Ok, getting there with the comments. In case you're curious, you're officially a month behind as of today, which I believe is your record :)
Brewing Scuffles shuddered. “Their cries bounce around,” he said. “They’re bouncing off the walls. The chanting isn’t about the Infanta, it’s about the walls. They’re turning them into something else.” War sat down on the floor, cross-legged which made his calves bulge and drew everyone’s attention to the fact that they were bigger than anyone else’s arms, and Hilda promptly wriggled free from Pestilence’s arms and sat in his lap. He stroked her head, a little absent-mindedly. “Right,” he said. “Strategic thinking time.” “Is that like teatime, sis?” “Shut up, Famine. We’re here, and we’ve walked into this without really paying a lot of attention, right? We’ve assumed that whatever’s going on is all mortals, and that we can just squash whoever’s causing the problem, put the Infanta back to bed, and tell the boss that we’re done. Right?” “Sure,” said Famine. “It’s always mortals though, and they don’t even know how they create and empower us, let alone how they’d go about actively fighting back against us. Even when they try and come up with new ways to increase the amount of food they distribute it so unevenly that they just give me more power.” “Exactly, that’s what we all thought. But now we’re in Mercy’s shrine and the kid here is telling us that Mercy might not know what’s going on, and the Infanta’s down there and might not even be being resurrected, and the boss always knows more than he’s telling… I don’t think we’ve done enough thinking.” Pestilence sat down on the floor now as well, and Hilda cocked her head to the side, wondering if his lap might be more comfortable. Scuffles shuddered and started sweating. “Ok,” said Pestilence. “SALT then, right?” “Is that like tea?” “Shut up Fam, fam. Strategic things talks. War’s got a point. This is all wrong for mortals, they would have a choir of idiots down here chanting and they’d probably have murdered everyone up above in Ezcaray just so that no-one could miss what they were doing. This is subtle. Strategic sounds like a good plan to me.” “Brew me a cup then, sis,” said Famine. He finally sat down on the floor, forming a triangle with War and Pestilence, and they reached out and took his hands. For a moment there was just the warbling chanting, and then the world seemed to invert, colours washing out to nothingness and unpleasant shapes that seemed formed from barbed wire becoming just visible on the edges of perception. Famine shook his head. “Thanks,” he said, sounding more normal. “That chanting is definitely doing something down there; it’s locking me more tightly into the mortal world. It might be a good idea to figure out how to get one of the mortal to go and accidentally destroy the generator.” “Not until we know more,” said War. “This is now a war-room; first things first is gather information. Second thing is to decide what to do with Scuffles; he’s turning into a liability.” “He’s our best source of information at the moment,” said Famine. “I think he’s going to have to tough it out. Whatever the trouble brewing is, he’s in hot water.” Pestilence gave him a side-long glance, and Famine winked.
2 comments:
Ok, getting there with the comments. In case you're curious, you're officially a month behind as of today, which I believe is your record :)
Brewing
Scuffles shuddered. “Their cries bounce around,” he said. “They’re bouncing off the walls. The chanting isn’t about the Infanta, it’s about the walls. They’re turning them into something else.”
War sat down on the floor, cross-legged which made his calves bulge and drew everyone’s attention to the fact that they were bigger than anyone else’s arms, and Hilda promptly wriggled free from Pestilence’s arms and sat in his lap. He stroked her head, a little absent-mindedly. “Right,” he said. “Strategic thinking time.”
“Is that like teatime, sis?”
“Shut up, Famine. We’re here, and we’ve walked into this without really paying a lot of attention, right? We’ve assumed that whatever’s going on is all mortals, and that we can just squash whoever’s causing the problem, put the Infanta back to bed, and tell the boss that we’re done. Right?”
“Sure,” said Famine. “It’s always mortals though, and they don’t even know how they create and empower us, let alone how they’d go about actively fighting back against us. Even when they try and come up with new ways to increase the amount of food they distribute it so unevenly that they just give me more power.”
“Exactly, that’s what we all thought. But now we’re in Mercy’s shrine and the kid here is telling us that Mercy might not know what’s going on, and the Infanta’s down there and might not even be being resurrected, and the boss always knows more than he’s telling… I don’t think we’ve done enough thinking.”
Pestilence sat down on the floor now as well, and Hilda cocked her head to the side, wondering if his lap might be more comfortable. Scuffles shuddered and started sweating.
“Ok,” said Pestilence. “SALT then, right?”
“Is that like tea?”
“Shut up Fam, fam. Strategic things talks. War’s got a point. This is all wrong for mortals, they would have a choir of idiots down here chanting and they’d probably have murdered everyone up above in Ezcaray just so that no-one could miss what they were doing. This is subtle. Strategic sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Brew me a cup then, sis,” said Famine. He finally sat down on the floor, forming a triangle with War and Pestilence, and they reached out and took his hands. For a moment there was just the warbling chanting, and then the world seemed to invert, colours washing out to nothingness and unpleasant shapes that seemed formed from barbed wire becoming just visible on the edges of perception.
Famine shook his head. “Thanks,” he said, sounding more normal. “That chanting is definitely doing something down there; it’s locking me more tightly into the mortal world. It might be a good idea to figure out how to get one of the mortal to go and accidentally destroy the generator.”
“Not until we know more,” said War. “This is now a war-room; first things first is gather information. Second thing is to decide what to do with Scuffles; he’s turning into a liability.”
“He’s our best source of information at the moment,” said Famine. “I think he’s going to have to tough it out. Whatever the trouble brewing is, he’s in hot water.”
Pestilence gave him a side-long glance, and Famine winked.
Greg - oh, I'm sure I've fallen further behind than that before.
Ah, more developments. Layers upon layers. I continue to be impressed by this tale. Whilst also enjoying the hell out of it, obviously.
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