How's the house hunting going? I hope long distances isn't referring to how far away affordable ones are :)
Long distances “War’s not really talked about that,” said Scuffles. He looked around at the green countryside rising up out of orange-brown soil, the sparse tree cover and the occasional mound of rambling, spiky plant. “I mean, it sounds like it’s about stories though.” “Yes,” said Pestilence. “It’s one of the tricky ones: because we’re avatars of ourselves in a way, we get bound up by the stories told about us. As those stories change, so do we. And we don’t get much choice about it either, even if doesn’t make sense.” Scuffles scratched his head, and then used his knees to nudge his hippopotamus away from a stream off to the left. “Huh?” “So, Kwashiorkor,” said Pestilence. “I can cause an outbreak of it, but if you look at it properly it’s actually a malnutrition thing. So it shouldn’t be mine, it should be Fam’s. But for centuries it’s been seen as a disease so because the story about Pestilence is that it’s insect damage, disease and decay, it gets handed over to me. And if you look at Famine, you’d think he was mostly focused on food shortages, but the idea of Famine got abstractly extended a hundred years ago and now he can walk into an office and immediately all the printers are out of paper, or toner, and the managers are rushing to the toilets to start being bulimic. And his vocabulary… we’re all suffering with that one, but somehow he’s managed to get caught up in language peevery about the famine of good English. There’s no such thing, language is just evolving like it always does, but now Fam calls everyone fam, tells them they’re on fleek and thinks things are teapot.” “How does the deputy thing work then?” Pestilence stretched, his arms reaching up into the sky further and further until a flock of birds had to detour unexpectedly. Then he settled back down into his more usual shape. “War got the Valkyries over a thousand years ago,” he said. “Famine’s got Anna at the moment, and Marasmus but we don’t talk about her. I’ve got Rust, but he’s more like a pet. And… well, then there’s you.” Scuffles sniffed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” “You’re fine,” said Pestilence. “War likes you, and there are a lot more scuffles these days than there are outright wars. You’ve got a promising future ahead of you. You know, there doesn’t seem to be much out this way, shall we turn a bit to the east?” Scuffles nodded and did something with his knees again. Pestilence was watching him like a hawk, but still couldn’t see what he actually did, so while Scuffles turned gracefully to the right, Pestilence had to shout and beat on the back on his hippo before he got any movement at all. “You’re on fleek, alright,” said Scuffles grinning again. “Though you know no-one talks like that anymore, right?” “Sure daddio,” said Pestilence as dryly as he could manage. “Spill the tea, sis, it’s teapot. What was that?” The hippos halted as Scuffles and Pestilence scanned around them. They could feel a sensation of something terrible rising like a mushroom cloud on the horizon. To their right there was an odd tugging sensation, and behind them there was a moment of emptiness, as though they could lean back and fall out of the world altogether. Then things rushed together and there was just an overwhelming sensation of betrayal and long distances being somehow compressed.
2 comments:
How's the house hunting going? I hope long distances isn't referring to how far away affordable ones are :)
Long distances
“War’s not really talked about that,” said Scuffles. He looked around at the green countryside rising up out of orange-brown soil, the sparse tree cover and the occasional mound of rambling, spiky plant. “I mean, it sounds like it’s about stories though.”
“Yes,” said Pestilence. “It’s one of the tricky ones: because we’re avatars of ourselves in a way, we get bound up by the stories told about us. As those stories change, so do we. And we don’t get much choice about it either, even if doesn’t make sense.”
Scuffles scratched his head, and then used his knees to nudge his hippopotamus away from a stream off to the left. “Huh?”
“So, Kwashiorkor,” said Pestilence. “I can cause an outbreak of it, but if you look at it properly it’s actually a malnutrition thing. So it shouldn’t be mine, it should be Fam’s. But for centuries it’s been seen as a disease so because the story about Pestilence is that it’s insect damage, disease and decay, it gets handed over to me. And if you look at Famine, you’d think he was mostly focused on food shortages, but the idea of Famine got abstractly extended a hundred years ago and now he can walk into an office and immediately all the printers are out of paper, or toner, and the managers are rushing to the toilets to start being bulimic. And his vocabulary… we’re all suffering with that one, but somehow he’s managed to get caught up in language peevery about the famine of good English. There’s no such thing, language is just evolving like it always does, but now Fam calls everyone fam, tells them they’re on fleek and thinks things are teapot.”
“How does the deputy thing work then?”
Pestilence stretched, his arms reaching up into the sky further and further until a flock of birds had to detour unexpectedly. Then he settled back down into his more usual shape. “War got the Valkyries over a thousand years ago,” he said. “Famine’s got Anna at the moment, and Marasmus but we don’t talk about her. I’ve got Rust, but he’s more like a pet. And… well, then there’s you.”
Scuffles sniffed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
“You’re fine,” said Pestilence. “War likes you, and there are a lot more scuffles these days than there are outright wars. You’ve got a promising future ahead of you. You know, there doesn’t seem to be much out this way, shall we turn a bit to the east?”
Scuffles nodded and did something with his knees again. Pestilence was watching him like a hawk, but still couldn’t see what he actually did, so while Scuffles turned gracefully to the right, Pestilence had to shout and beat on the back on his hippo before he got any movement at all.
“You’re on fleek, alright,” said Scuffles grinning again. “Though you know no-one talks like that anymore, right?”
“Sure daddio,” said Pestilence as dryly as he could manage. “Spill the tea, sis, it’s teapot. What was that?”
The hippos halted as Scuffles and Pestilence scanned around them. They could feel a sensation of something terrible rising like a mushroom cloud on the horizon. To their right there was an odd tugging sensation, and behind them there was a moment of emptiness, as though they could lean back and fall out of the world altogether. Then things rushed together and there was just an overwhelming sensation of betrayal and long distances being somehow compressed.
Greg - house hunting is going slowly, but that's okay. No rush.
Thank you for the explanations. Scuffles and I are most appreciative :)
Also: fantastic descriptions in that final paragraph.
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