After spinning in circles, clarity seems like it would be welcome :) The weather has cooled a little here in Malta, which is extremely welcome; and my landlord will be installing A/C in the flat today which will also be extremely welcome.
Clarity "Clarity," said Famine, "is much sought after by mystics and holy men. For some reason they think I can help them with that." "You don't delegate much, do you Fam?" said Pestilence. The pair of them, both stick-thin, tall and gaunt, were standing in War's kitchen. Famine was holding an empty plate in pale, bony fingers and Pestilence was leaning against the fridge. "Not really, bro," said Famine. "My dad used to when he was Famine, he was very keen on teaching. My mum reckoned he was just lazy though. She was always yelling at him to get out of the house and starve some kids in Ethiopia or Malawi or somewhere. He'd just put his feet up on the ottoman and turn the TV on. He liked MTV a lot." Pestilence, who was wearing brown-stained blue overalls (but had taken his wellington boots off since he was indoors) and looked a little like he had a part-time job as a scarecrow, frowned. "You were posh," he said. "You had an ottoman? We just had a dead possum." Famine giggled, a high-pitched sound as pleasant a wet finger running round the rim of a wine glass. "No fam," he said, "the ottoman was an actual Ottoman. Some sorcerer back in the 1700s tried summoning grandad and succeeded. As dad told it grandad was shooketh, but the sorceror was snatching wigs and messed up the invocations, so grandad served him while he was white knuckling it and trying to get out the window." Pestilence smiled. "I've no clue what you've just said," he said. "I thought you were easier to understand out of the real world?" Famine grinned back. "I have to stay in practice, hunty," he said. "And... well, this is one of those transition zones, innit? Thin places, amirite?" "QTNA, fam," said Pestilence. He paused, playing back what he'd just said in his head, and then laughed. "I got that right, amirite?" "I'm shook, fam," said Famine. "You're on fleek. But yeah, I do a lot of it myself. Anna helps out with the teenagers though." "Anna?" "Yeah, she does all the diet stuff. She's like Famine-lite. So back to where we came in, she's doing the clarity stuff for me too and that's what's causing the complaints. Seems like the mystics and the holy men don't want to get classified in with the thinorexics." "So take it back off her?" "Nah fam. they all like hanging out in high places. I can't be bothered with the altitude sickness." War opened the kitchen door with one blond-furred arm and looked in. "You two," he said, his voice making the cups on the counter dance. "Quit pretending this is a party and get in here. The boss wants to talk to us." The door swung shut again, and Pestilence looked at Famine, who looked back at him. After a few seconds Pestilence said, "Jona Lewie?" "Send in the cavalry, fam," said Famine.
2 comments:
After spinning in circles, clarity seems like it would be welcome :) The weather has cooled a little here in Malta, which is extremely welcome; and my landlord will be installing A/C in the flat today which will also be extremely welcome.
Clarity
"Clarity," said Famine, "is much sought after by mystics and holy men. For some reason they think I can help them with that."
"You don't delegate much, do you Fam?" said Pestilence.
The pair of them, both stick-thin, tall and gaunt, were standing in War's kitchen. Famine was holding an empty plate in pale, bony fingers and Pestilence was leaning against the fridge.
"Not really, bro," said Famine. "My dad used to when he was Famine, he was very keen on teaching. My mum reckoned he was just lazy though. She was always yelling at him to get out of the house and starve some kids in Ethiopia or Malawi or somewhere. He'd just put his feet up on the ottoman and turn the TV on. He liked MTV a lot."
Pestilence, who was wearing brown-stained blue overalls (but had taken his wellington boots off since he was indoors) and looked a little like he had a part-time job as a scarecrow, frowned. "You were posh," he said. "You had an ottoman? We just had a dead possum."
Famine giggled, a high-pitched sound as pleasant a wet finger running round the rim of a wine glass. "No fam," he said, "the ottoman was an actual Ottoman. Some sorcerer back in the 1700s tried summoning grandad and succeeded. As dad told it grandad was shooketh, but the sorceror was snatching wigs and messed up the invocations, so grandad served him while he was white knuckling it and trying to get out the window."
Pestilence smiled. "I've no clue what you've just said," he said. "I thought you were easier to understand out of the real world?"
Famine grinned back. "I have to stay in practice, hunty," he said. "And... well, this is one of those transition zones, innit? Thin places, amirite?"
"QTNA, fam," said Pestilence. He paused, playing back what he'd just said in his head, and then laughed. "I got that right, amirite?"
"I'm shook, fam," said Famine. "You're on fleek. But yeah, I do a lot of it myself. Anna helps out with the teenagers though."
"Anna?"
"Yeah, she does all the diet stuff. She's like Famine-lite. So back to where we came in, she's doing the clarity stuff for me too and that's what's causing the complaints. Seems like the mystics and the holy men don't want to get classified in with the thinorexics."
"So take it back off her?"
"Nah fam. they all like hanging out in high places. I can't be bothered with the altitude sickness."
War opened the kitchen door with one blond-furred arm and looked in. "You two," he said, his voice making the cups on the counter dance. "Quit pretending this is a party and get in here. The boss wants to talk to us."
The door swung shut again, and Pestilence looked at Famine, who looked back at him. After a few seconds Pestilence said, "Jona Lewie?"
"Send in the cavalry, fam," said Famine.
Greg - it seemed like a fitting followup prompt :)
I'm reasonably certain that Fame and Pest are legitimately insane. But that just makes their scenes all the more enjoyable!
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