You have a conference in the buildings where you work? You're being on one? Or you had to sit down and have a family conference about how assassination is paying the bills and people ought to stop complaining when you have to be away in exotic locations for weeks on end? ;-)
Conference “Valkyries are not for scuffles,” said War, though it was more of a shout really. His words echoed, bouncing back from the mountains a little under 20km away, and the ground beneath their feet shuddered a little, as though tanks were rolling across it nearby. “They are for taking heroes of significant conflicts to Valhalla! And they are definitely not a taxi service!” There was a distant groan, as though the mountains were considering a landslide. “Yes boss,” said Scuffles, trying to hide a cheeky grin and not succeeding very well. The two Valkyries who had carried him down stood either side of him, eyes forward, faces motionless, standing at attention. “And you two,” said War. Smoke curled up from around his feet, and Scuffles heard Pestilence’s voice inside his head pointing it out. When he gets really angry we get shelling; this is just irritation. Though it does mean we have to take care not to wind him up too much if we’re staying in a hotel. Carpets are a bugger to pay for. “I expected better of you, Susan, than to come running just because Scuffles has wet his pants.” Pestilence burst into laughter, and Scuffles glared at him, just a touch hurt. The Valkyrie turned to Pestilence. “That had better be because of Scuffles wetting his pants,” she said, in a voice as rich and resonant as a bass opera-singer. Her chest rose and fell like the Roman Empire. “And not because of my name.” “I’m called Dorothea,” said the other Valkyrie. Both of them stared hard at Pestilence, who stared back for a moment, then stuck out his hand. “Pest,” he said cheerfully. “Though Fam calls me fam a lot, and sometimes sis so you can use them if it suits you.” “Quiet!” War stamped a smoking foot and left a blackened footprint in the turf. “Enough. Valkyries: dismissed. Get back to your other duties. Scuffles: do not summon Valkyries without a good reason. Pest – where the hell is Famine anyway? How long does it take to read a document?” “Depends how long the words are,” said Pestilence. “Is this a ski resort, by the way?” “Can’t be,” said War. “There’s no snow.” “It’s not winter.” “Easy enough to check,” said War. There was a shimmer in the air around them and they all felt a gentle push as though the world were trying to rotate them. They resisted, letting the otherworld push past them and through them and as it reached the peak of interpenetration the seasons seemed to happen in a matter of seconds. Trees lost their leaves, a nearby river, over which was a mossy stone bridge, waxed and waned in flow, and the buildings filled and emptied with off-season conference goers. Snow fell, blanketing everything, and skiers appeared, sailing up the mountainside on a ski-lift. “Huh,” said War, letting go and watching the world return to normal. “Perhaps it is.” “Does it matter?” said Scuffles. “It’s not like we can go skiing.” “Mountains,” said Pestilence. “They’re very good for burying things under when you don’t want them found again. Unless you get an infestation of dwarves, then you have problems. But I think I might know where they’re trying to wake up the Infanta now.”
Greg - hah. I think... this was inspired by the conference the mayor and councillors and CAO went to. I got stuck with helping on the final prep, as the woman who usually does that was away visiting her new grandson. Turned out okay, just was more work than I needed.
I like Susan and Dorothea. A lot. I hope they come back for a visit, whatever War may think of that.
2 comments:
You have a conference in the buildings where you work? You're being on one? Or you had to sit down and have a family conference about how assassination is paying the bills and people ought to stop complaining when you have to be away in exotic locations for weeks on end? ;-)
Conference
“Valkyries are not for scuffles,” said War, though it was more of a shout really. His words echoed, bouncing back from the mountains a little under 20km away, and the ground beneath their feet shuddered a little, as though tanks were rolling across it nearby. “They are for taking heroes of significant conflicts to Valhalla! And they are definitely not a taxi service!” There was a distant groan, as though the mountains were considering a landslide.
“Yes boss,” said Scuffles, trying to hide a cheeky grin and not succeeding very well. The two Valkyries who had carried him down stood either side of him, eyes forward, faces motionless, standing at attention.
“And you two,” said War. Smoke curled up from around his feet, and Scuffles heard Pestilence’s voice inside his head pointing it out. When he gets really angry we get shelling; this is just irritation. Though it does mean we have to take care not to wind him up too much if we’re staying in a hotel. Carpets are a bugger to pay for. “I expected better of you, Susan, than to come running just because Scuffles has wet his pants.” Pestilence burst into laughter, and Scuffles glared at him, just a touch hurt. The Valkyrie turned to Pestilence.
“That had better be because of Scuffles wetting his pants,” she said, in a voice as rich and resonant as a bass opera-singer. Her chest rose and fell like the Roman Empire. “And not because of my name.”
“I’m called Dorothea,” said the other Valkyrie. Both of them stared hard at Pestilence, who stared back for a moment, then stuck out his hand. “Pest,” he said cheerfully. “Though Fam calls me fam a lot, and sometimes sis so you can use them if it suits you.”
“Quiet!” War stamped a smoking foot and left a blackened footprint in the turf. “Enough. Valkyries: dismissed. Get back to your other duties. Scuffles: do not summon Valkyries without a good reason. Pest – where the hell is Famine anyway? How long does it take to read a document?”
“Depends how long the words are,” said Pestilence. “Is this a ski resort, by the way?”
“Can’t be,” said War. “There’s no snow.”
“It’s not winter.”
“Easy enough to check,” said War. There was a shimmer in the air around them and they all felt a gentle push as though the world were trying to rotate them. They resisted, letting the otherworld push past them and through them and as it reached the peak of interpenetration the seasons seemed to happen in a matter of seconds. Trees lost their leaves, a nearby river, over which was a mossy stone bridge, waxed and waned in flow, and the buildings filled and emptied with off-season conference goers. Snow fell, blanketing everything, and skiers appeared, sailing up the mountainside on a ski-lift. “Huh,” said War, letting go and watching the world return to normal. “Perhaps it is.”
“Does it matter?” said Scuffles. “It’s not like we can go skiing.”
“Mountains,” said Pestilence. “They’re very good for burying things under when you don’t want them found again. Unless you get an infestation of dwarves, then you have problems. But I think I might know where they’re trying to wake up the Infanta now.”
Greg - hah. I think... this was inspired by the conference the mayor and councillors and CAO went to. I got stuck with helping on the final prep, as the woman who usually does that was away visiting her new grandson. Turned out okay, just was more work than I needed.
I like Susan and Dorothea. A lot. I hope they come back for a visit, whatever War may think of that.
Post a Comment