You know, you can always come back to the year-long revisits later (well, just before the next one, anyway) so that they don't hold up your reading of comments :) But it's nice to see you catching back up again, probably in time for the next year-long revisit!
Snapping What’s going on? Cernunnos’s thought was quiet, if thoughts really had a volume to them. Why is Narusheteli here? Because Moros invited it, replied Death. And, just so you know, he can listen in. Thanks, thought Cernunnos, and his thoughts vanished. Death looked casually around, but still managed to watch Cernunnos partially fade into the shadows, shrinking down from a stag-sized god to something more like an angry hedgehog. Turning away, he noticed that Moros was grinning. “That—” began Moros, but shouting broke out amongst the Incarnates, and he paused. Both he and Death looked to the Long Hall, and where the blob-god was vibrating wildly in the middle of it. He quivered like an electrocuted amoeba, shivering and jittering, becoming pointy and then collapsing into something ovoid, snapping from one shape to another and pulsing with light. “This isn’t right!” screeched the blob-god. Incarnates near it backed away slightly; enough to not get hurt but not far enough to miss any of the action. They formed a loose circle, with one arc cut away so that Death and Moros could see the blob… or have easy access to it. They’re very pragmatic thought Death, and Moros laughed. “This isn’t right at all! You can’t close the doors to Death’s house! You can’t suspend the Accords! We haven’t agreed to any of this! This is a bouncy-rabbit court!” There was silence for a moment after that, then a murmur of voices. “Do you mean kangaroo court?” asked Moros, his face a picture of concentrated thought. “It most certainly isn’t.” “Who gives you authority to do these things? All Authority derives from the Accords, it’s written in there. If you are suspending the Accords then you need a vote. We get to make that decision, not some random Incarnate you’ve brought in from nowhere.” Moros’s smile would have given the Cheshire Cat pause for thought. “Narusheteli,” said Death, and his voice was flat and cold and brought to mind a north wind blowing across ice floes, carrying frost to a man lying paralysed in the snow, feeling the last of his body heat drain away into unforgiving ground. “Narusheteli is the Oath-breaker, but its name can also be translated as the Trespasser. Narusheteli is not of this universe; it is the action on this universe of an external force whose intents are unclear to me. Narusheteli is not subject to me, nor is it subject to the Accords, and if it chooses to suspend the Accords in its presence, there is nothing I can do about it. And in turn, therefore, there is nothing you can do about it.” “Because your ultimate sanction,” said Moros, “is to send Death to end the existence of anyone or anything breaking the Accords.” “Why have you brought it here then?” The blob-god was vibrating more gently now, fewer spikes and softer edges. Its light had decreased and become lemony. “What is the point of a Trespasser here?” Death sighed, and everyone shivered. “Because,” said Moros. “Now that the Accords are in abeyance, I may command Death. And I wish to punish Mercy.”
It felt like claws were scratching down her throat, tearing the living tissue away and leaving only blood. Her lungs chest heavy, aching with each breath as another rattled cough shook through her. Her nostrils were faucets with broken handles. “Please, Mom,” Kellie cried. “Can I get the new iPhone? I need the new iPhone. Everyone at school already has it in their hands or in the mail. I’ll be the only one without it.” But Debbie couldn’t hear much of her daughter’s whines through the thick fog rolling through her head. “But your phone still works.” Kellie scoffed. “Barely. I have to swipe twice for half the apps on my phone and the battery only lasts me four hours. That’s not even enough to get me through school.” “Maybe if you paid attention to class instead of—” Debbie began. “That’s so not the point, Mom. I’ll be made fun of by all the popular girls. They’ll treat me like I’m poor and underprivileged. “Enough!” Debbie shouted. “Stop acting like an entitled brat, Kellie. Your phone is fine and you’ll keep ib until your plan is up. Now I don’t want to hear another word about that iPhone, you hear me? Let’s just get the decorations for your brother’s party and leave.” She continued away from the electronics to the aisle with the wrapping paper. As the fog turned into heavy pounding, Debbie didn’t care that she left Kellie standing in the middle of the Target aisle gaping and near tears, her cheeks reddening as everyone around them stared. She didn’t care that everyone would think her a bad mom for snapping at Kellie that way. At least not then she didn’t.
Greg - I know, I just feel like if I skip over it I'll never come back to it. Also: the mounting pressure as I get more and more behind on replying to comments helps me to actually sit my butt down and do it.
Hooo boy. This is another excellent entry. And that final line is, quite appropriately, chilling.
Ivy - I would be interested in reading more of this, as you're hinting at things I'd like to hear more about. Particularly with that ending!
3 comments:
You know, you can always come back to the year-long revisits later (well, just before the next one, anyway) so that they don't hold up your reading of comments :) But it's nice to see you catching back up again, probably in time for the next year-long revisit!
Snapping
What’s going on? Cernunnos’s thought was quiet, if thoughts really had a volume to them. Why is Narusheteli here?
Because Moros invited it, replied Death. And, just so you know, he can listen in.
Thanks, thought Cernunnos, and his thoughts vanished. Death looked casually around, but still managed to watch Cernunnos partially fade into the shadows, shrinking down from a stag-sized god to something more like an angry hedgehog. Turning away, he noticed that Moros was grinning.
“That—” began Moros, but shouting broke out amongst the Incarnates, and he paused. Both he and Death looked to the Long Hall, and where the blob-god was vibrating wildly in the middle of it. He quivered like an electrocuted amoeba, shivering and jittering, becoming pointy and then collapsing into something ovoid, snapping from one shape to another and pulsing with light.
“This isn’t right!” screeched the blob-god. Incarnates near it backed away slightly; enough to not get hurt but not far enough to miss any of the action. They formed a loose circle, with one arc cut away so that Death and Moros could see the blob… or have easy access to it.
They’re very pragmatic thought Death, and Moros laughed.
“This isn’t right at all! You can’t close the doors to Death’s house! You can’t suspend the Accords! We haven’t agreed to any of this! This is a bouncy-rabbit court!”
There was silence for a moment after that, then a murmur of voices.
“Do you mean kangaroo court?” asked Moros, his face a picture of concentrated thought. “It most certainly isn’t.”
“Who gives you authority to do these things? All Authority derives from the Accords, it’s written in there. If you are suspending the Accords then you need a vote. We get to make that decision, not some random Incarnate you’ve brought in from nowhere.”
Moros’s smile would have given the Cheshire Cat pause for thought.
“Narusheteli,” said Death, and his voice was flat and cold and brought to mind a north wind blowing across ice floes, carrying frost to a man lying paralysed in the snow, feeling the last of his body heat drain away into unforgiving ground. “Narusheteli is the Oath-breaker, but its name can also be translated as the Trespasser. Narusheteli is not of this universe; it is the action on this universe of an external force whose intents are unclear to me. Narusheteli is not subject to me, nor is it subject to the Accords, and if it chooses to suspend the Accords in its presence, there is nothing I can do about it. And in turn, therefore, there is nothing you can do about it.”
“Because your ultimate sanction,” said Moros, “is to send Death to end the existence of anyone or anything breaking the Accords.”
“Why have you brought it here then?” The blob-god was vibrating more gently now, fewer spikes and softer edges. Its light had decreased and become lemony. “What is the point of a Trespasser here?”
Death sighed, and everyone shivered.
“Because,” said Moros. “Now that the Accords are in abeyance, I may command Death. And I wish to punish Mercy.”
It felt like claws were scratching down her throat, tearing the living tissue away and leaving only blood. Her lungs chest heavy, aching with each breath as another rattled cough shook through her. Her nostrils were faucets with broken handles.
“Please, Mom,” Kellie cried. “Can I get the new iPhone? I need the new iPhone. Everyone at school already has it in their hands or in the mail. I’ll be the only one without it.”
But Debbie couldn’t hear much of her daughter’s whines through the thick fog rolling through her head. “But your phone still works.”
Kellie scoffed. “Barely. I have to swipe twice for half the apps on my phone and the battery only lasts me four hours. That’s not even enough to get me through school.”
“Maybe if you paid attention to class instead of—” Debbie began.
“That’s so not the point, Mom. I’ll be made fun of by all the popular girls. They’ll treat me like I’m poor and underprivileged.
“Enough!” Debbie shouted. “Stop acting like an entitled brat, Kellie. Your phone is fine and you’ll keep ib until your plan is up. Now I don’t want to hear another word about that iPhone, you hear me? Let’s just get the decorations for your brother’s party and leave.”
She continued away from the electronics to the aisle with the wrapping paper. As the fog turned into heavy pounding, Debbie didn’t care that she left Kellie standing in the middle of the Target aisle gaping and near tears, her cheeks reddening as everyone around them stared. She didn’t care that everyone would think her a bad mom for snapping at Kellie that way.
At least not then she didn’t.
Greg - I know, I just feel like if I skip over it I'll never come back to it. Also: the mounting pressure as I get more and more behind on replying to comments helps me to actually sit my butt down and do it.
Hooo boy. This is another excellent entry. And that final line is, quite appropriately, chilling.
Ivy - I would be interested in reading more of this, as you're hinting at things I'd like to hear more about. Particularly with that ending!
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