Happy thanksgiving! Is it a public holiday in Canada, or is it something you fit in around everything else? I know the Americans make a big deal out of there's (I think we talk about some element of this every year on here!) but the Canadians are much more reserved :)
Yeah, I couldn't work "breaking bread" into the continuing story this time round, so you're getting one of my very rare "sorry, the prompt didn't work for me" entries :) I can, sort of, link it to thanksgiving since War et al are currently in search of Mercy though!
In search of Mercy There was a noise like aluminium cans been torn apart; a metallic screeching and crunching sound. The three Incarnates unjoined their hands and the war room inverted around them, spilling them back out into the real world. The weight of the green and black stone around them seemed oppressive now after the freedom of the world on the other side, and the smells of decay and diesel fumes mingled uneasily in their nostrils. On the floor Scuffles trembled, now as white as milk and as sweaty as old cheese, and Hilda had taken it upon herself to sit on his head. “What?” said Pestilence, looking around. “Something was trying to eavesdrop.” Famine swept a hand along the rock floor and looked disappointed when it came up clean. “No bugs,” he said. “I was expecting Mercy to be trying something like that at least.” War looked over the edge of their ledge, and pointed downwards. The screeching started again, and the other two looked as well. Below four humans swaddled in thick robes that concealed everything but their height were dragging a procrustean bed across the rock floor. It was a four-poster, made of rusted metal that looked like it had some interesting organic stains as well, and was clearly heavy. Attachment points on the sides looked like it was intended to be connected up to a power source. “Waking something up, or torturing someone?” asked Pestilence, his voice oddly light and almost cheerful. “Is it just me, or is there a feeling of inevitability here at the moment?” “It’s not just you, sis.” Scuffles screamed, but it was mostly muffled by Hilda. She cocked her head to the side as though listening to him, and then she stood up and walked off him, her paws carefully picking the softest spots on his torso to stand on. Scuffles gasped and wheezed as he was pummeled, and then she was stood on the rocky ground, and sniffing the air. “What is it, Hilda?” War’s voice was as soft and gentle as the others had ever heard it. She barked, a sharp, anechoic noise, and Pestilence glanced over the ledge to see if anyone below had heard it. If they had they didn’t react, and when he looked back Hilda had vanished and War and Famine were moving swiftly, clearly following her. He thought for a moment, then shrugged and sat back down on the floor. “Looks like it’s you and me kiddo,” he said. “Let’s see how you’re doing in there, shall we?”
Greg - it's a holiday, so that means I got the day off work. We got together with Kat's family and ate turkey and pumpkin pie and all that good stuff too.
2 comments:
Happy thanksgiving! Is it a public holiday in Canada, or is it something you fit in around everything else? I know the Americans make a big deal out of there's (I think we talk about some element of this every year on here!) but the Canadians are much more reserved :)
Yeah, I couldn't work "breaking bread" into the continuing story this time round, so you're getting one of my very rare "sorry, the prompt didn't work for me" entries :) I can, sort of, link it to thanksgiving since War et al are currently in search of Mercy though!
In search of Mercy
There was a noise like aluminium cans been torn apart; a metallic screeching and crunching sound. The three Incarnates unjoined their hands and the war room inverted around them, spilling them back out into the real world. The weight of the green and black stone around them seemed oppressive now after the freedom of the world on the other side, and the smells of decay and diesel fumes mingled uneasily in their nostrils. On the floor Scuffles trembled, now as white as milk and as sweaty as old cheese, and Hilda had taken it upon herself to sit on his head.
“What?” said Pestilence, looking around. “Something was trying to eavesdrop.”
Famine swept a hand along the rock floor and looked disappointed when it came up clean. “No bugs,” he said. “I was expecting Mercy to be trying something like that at least.”
War looked over the edge of their ledge, and pointed downwards. The screeching started again, and the other two looked as well. Below four humans swaddled in thick robes that concealed everything but their height were dragging a procrustean bed across the rock floor. It was a four-poster, made of rusted metal that looked like it had some interesting organic stains as well, and was clearly heavy. Attachment points on the sides looked like it was intended to be connected up to a power source.
“Waking something up, or torturing someone?” asked Pestilence, his voice oddly light and almost cheerful. “Is it just me, or is there a feeling of inevitability here at the moment?”
“It’s not just you, sis.”
Scuffles screamed, but it was mostly muffled by Hilda. She cocked her head to the side as though listening to him, and then she stood up and walked off him, her paws carefully picking the softest spots on his torso to stand on. Scuffles gasped and wheezed as he was pummeled, and then she was stood on the rocky ground, and sniffing the air.
“What is it, Hilda?” War’s voice was as soft and gentle as the others had ever heard it.
She barked, a sharp, anechoic noise, and Pestilence glanced over the ledge to see if anyone below had heard it. If they had they didn’t react, and when he looked back Hilda had vanished and War and Famine were moving swiftly, clearly following her. He thought for a moment, then shrugged and sat back down on the floor.
“Looks like it’s you and me kiddo,” he said. “Let’s see how you’re doing in there, shall we?”
Greg - it's a holiday, so that means I got the day off work. We got together with Kat's family and ate turkey and pumpkin pie and all that good stuff too.
Hah, you're forgiven. This time.
Scuffles better be okay though.
Curious to see where War and co have run off to.
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