Bland feels like a temptation to write about something very definitely not bland and then slip the word in almost as a counterpoint. And... I think I might be able to do something like that since we're in Death's house at the moment :)
Bland “You can’t change the Accords!” A mostly-see through squid-like thing with eight large eyes set in a ring around its blobby, sac-like middle, waved its finger-thick, beige tentacles violently. It had no visible mouth, but its voice carried stridently. “You’re Death! You’ll change them in your favour!” There was a murmuring, an upswell of positive noise, which was then silenced by a tall ebony-skinned woman with silver eyes and a forked tongue that flickered constantly in and out of her mouth, tasting the air around her. She had four arms, two in the normal place and two slightly below, and each hand carried a primitive weapon. She tilted her head back so that her mouth was aimed at the ceiling and a stream of light shot upwards, into and through the roof. The stream vibrated as it did, and the vibrations produced sound. “There are other things in the Accords that need updating,” said the stream of light. “This might be an opportunity for… negotiation.” “Death may not negotiate!” The squid-like thing sounded frantic. “He has only one desire, and that’s the end of us all!” “We could write into the Accords that he cannot come for us,” said Mercy. “Then we would all be safe.” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The squid-like thing bounced up and down, wobbling its sac like a freshly-set jelly. “Death must come for all things,” said Cernunnos, though he sounded a little uncertain. “Life without Death is stasis. Without change, we would grow bored. And then what? Rewrite the Accords again, to address our new fears?” “But this is what we’re being asked to do now,” said the silver stream of light, bending this way and that. The entities near it drew back, pulling in arms, legs and other appendages to avoid it. “Death would not be commanded by the Infanta of Castile and asks us to revoke her permission to do so.” “That’s not true,” said Death blandly, and his words flattened out the room, damping sound and killing echoes. The stream of light wavered, and the squid-like thing trembled. “I’m telling you what is happening and asking you if you want to do something about it.” “Why should we care who commands you?” said Mercy. She pouted. “Why do you care? You come for everyone, like my deer-headed friend here pointed out. Just do as you are told!” “The Infanta may command me to come for each and any of you,” said Death. “It’s written in the Accords. But since you are all uninterested, I shall leave.” “As you should,” said Mercy, and there was a taste of spite in her words. But then a bull-headed woman wearing heavy leather armour and carrying an amphora, stamped a foot. “What do you mean? The Infanta may command you to come for us?” “The Infanta may command me to her service unrestricted by the Accords,” said Death. “For five hours per incarnation, no more.” A hubbub of noise rose up around the room as the gathered entities considered what that meant and Death sat on his not-throne and watched with unblinking, empty eye-sockets. After a moment there was an itching inside his skull, and he relaxed just a touch, to let Cernunnos talk to him without words. Who are the other four, and of them, which is alive in your terms? asked Cernunnos. Death permitted himself a smile.
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Bland feels like a temptation to write about something very definitely not bland and then slip the word in almost as a counterpoint. And... I think I might be able to do something like that since we're in Death's house at the moment :)
Bland
“You can’t change the Accords!” A mostly-see through squid-like thing with eight large eyes set in a ring around its blobby, sac-like middle, waved its finger-thick, beige tentacles violently. It had no visible mouth, but its voice carried stridently. “You’re Death! You’ll change them in your favour!” There was a murmuring, an upswell of positive noise, which was then silenced by a tall ebony-skinned woman with silver eyes and a forked tongue that flickered constantly in and out of her mouth, tasting the air around her. She had four arms, two in the normal place and two slightly below, and each hand carried a primitive weapon. She tilted her head back so that her mouth was aimed at the ceiling and a stream of light shot upwards, into and through the roof. The stream vibrated as it did, and the vibrations produced sound.
“There are other things in the Accords that need updating,” said the stream of light. “This might be an opportunity for… negotiation.”
“Death may not negotiate!” The squid-like thing sounded frantic. “He has only one desire, and that’s the end of us all!”
“We could write into the Accords that he cannot come for us,” said Mercy. “Then we would all be safe.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The squid-like thing bounced up and down, wobbling its sac like a freshly-set jelly.
“Death must come for all things,” said Cernunnos, though he sounded a little uncertain. “Life without Death is stasis. Without change, we would grow bored. And then what? Rewrite the Accords again, to address our new fears?”
“But this is what we’re being asked to do now,” said the silver stream of light, bending this way and that. The entities near it drew back, pulling in arms, legs and other appendages to avoid it. “Death would not be commanded by the Infanta of Castile and asks us to revoke her permission to do so.”
“That’s not true,” said Death blandly, and his words flattened out the room, damping sound and killing echoes. The stream of light wavered, and the squid-like thing trembled. “I’m telling you what is happening and asking you if you want to do something about it.”
“Why should we care who commands you?” said Mercy. She pouted. “Why do you care? You come for everyone, like my deer-headed friend here pointed out. Just do as you are told!”
“The Infanta may command me to come for each and any of you,” said Death. “It’s written in the Accords. But since you are all uninterested, I shall leave.”
“As you should,” said Mercy, and there was a taste of spite in her words. But then a bull-headed woman wearing heavy leather armour and carrying an amphora, stamped a foot. “What do you mean? The Infanta may command you to come for us?”
“The Infanta may command me to her service unrestricted by the Accords,” said Death. “For five hours per incarnation, no more.”
A hubbub of noise rose up around the room as the gathered entities considered what that meant and Death sat on his not-throne and watched with unblinking, empty eye-sockets. After a moment there was an itching inside his skull, and he relaxed just a touch, to let Cernunnos talk to him without words.
Who are the other four, and of them, which is alive in your terms? asked Cernunnos.
Death permitted himself a smile.
Greg - yeah, you'd do that, wouldn't you? :P
This tale continues to fascinate. Love the light talker.
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