You're getting Kat a new vacuum cleaner for Christmas, but all she knows is that you'll be dropping hints about the gift through your blog prompts? Or you've discovered a bubble of vacuum under the house, left over from some Marvel Superhero action, and you're worried that Max is going to try and do something with it?
:)
Vacuum As they were leaving, Rashid appeared, or at his head did around the edge of the tunnel. “Can you clean up the guard you liquified as you leave?” he said. His head bobbed, nodding yes to his own question. “Only it’s a bit of a health hazard.” “No,” said War, and ushered the rest of the Incarnates back through the caves they had come from. “Was that really necessary?” asked Famine as they floated over what was left of the guard: largely a sticky, ominous-looking puddle with some blood-stained bones and a rib-cage. “No,” said War. “But I enjoyed it.” They reached the point they’d rappelled down, and Scuffles looked on edge. Tiny little sparks of static electricity snapped and crackled around his head, arcing across to rock, the rope, and even Hilda’s nose at one point, which resulting in more snapping and growling. “We have to climb?” he said. “Yes,” said War, just as Famine said, “No sis, the ascension’s on the down-low this time, the crime would be in the hiatus and then everything that’s not teapot will be totally boot.” Pestilence looked morose. “What?” asked Scuffles. The static electricity started to form a blue nimbus around his head. “He means no,” said Pestilence, and there was a hint of mothers weeping for their sickly children in his voice, like background hiss on a radio. “We’re far enough away from everything going on down there that we can move freely again, and he’s not shielded from the world so much any more. He’s—” “back to normal,” said War. “—reverting to the mean,” said Pestilence. “But basically, li’l bro, find us a scuffle and show us, and me and War will do the heavy lifting and take us there.” “Any scuffle?” Scuffles was watching Famine in case he started doing things as strange as his speech. “Major would be good,” said Pestilence. “Something to do with oath-breaking, obviously.” Scuffles closed his eyes to help him concentrate and tried to ignore Famine murmuring, “Not so much slippery when wet as greasy when excited, amirite?” He tried to relax, tried to forget about the rope and the heights – or depths – of this cave, and to his surprise found himself remembering the hippos. He smiled, oddly happy for a moment, and then his senses extended and he felt the world around him spill outwards like a water-filled bubble bursting into vacuum. Here and there were tiny vortices, tight pockets of conflict, coloured to distinguish the kind of underlying problem. Green whorls were born of jealousy, yellow whirlpools where were melancholy and sadness tore at happy and content, and a rainbow of other shades and hues danced across the map, growing and shrinking. Some correlated, both positively and negatively, and others lived lives of their own. He searched, and then found a glossy ivory whorl. He started to speak, to point it out, but he felt Pestilence somewhere near him, looking at the map, so he pointed instead. “Right li’l bro,” said Pestilence in his ear, and there was a sensation of falling that made him scream and grab for the nearest solid object, and then he opened his eyes and they were standing on a greasy pavement outside a kebab shop and a brothel and he was clutching a terrified looking man in a cheap suit who was wearing thick glasses and a Barcelona supporter’s scarf. “Don’t mind him, sis,” said Famine. “He doesn’t get out much.”
Greg - the latter possibility seems the most likely, to be honest.
This whole thing is delightful. Pest in particular, but the description of what Scuffles was seeing was excellent. And... where have they found themselves now?
Morganna - nicely done with so few words. Impressive, as usual.
3 comments:
You're getting Kat a new vacuum cleaner for Christmas, but all she knows is that you'll be dropping hints about the gift through your blog prompts? Or you've discovered a bubble of vacuum under the house, left over from some Marvel Superhero action, and you're worried that Max is going to try and do something with it?
:)
Vacuum
As they were leaving, Rashid appeared, or at his head did around the edge of the tunnel. “Can you clean up the guard you liquified as you leave?” he said. His head bobbed, nodding yes to his own question. “Only it’s a bit of a health hazard.”
“No,” said War, and ushered the rest of the Incarnates back through the caves they had come from.
“Was that really necessary?” asked Famine as they floated over what was left of the guard: largely a sticky, ominous-looking puddle with some blood-stained bones and a rib-cage.
“No,” said War. “But I enjoyed it.”
They reached the point they’d rappelled down, and Scuffles looked on edge. Tiny little sparks of static electricity snapped and crackled around his head, arcing across to rock, the rope, and even Hilda’s nose at one point, which resulting in more snapping and growling. “We have to climb?” he said.
“Yes,” said War, just as Famine said, “No sis, the ascension’s on the down-low this time, the crime would be in the hiatus and then everything that’s not teapot will be totally boot.”
Pestilence looked morose.
“What?” asked Scuffles. The static electricity started to form a blue nimbus around his head.
“He means no,” said Pestilence, and there was a hint of mothers weeping for their sickly children in his voice, like background hiss on a radio. “We’re far enough away from everything going on down there that we can move freely again, and he’s not shielded from the world so much any more. He’s—”
“back to normal,” said War.
“—reverting to the mean,” said Pestilence. “But basically, li’l bro, find us a scuffle and show us, and me and War will do the heavy lifting and take us there.”
“Any scuffle?” Scuffles was watching Famine in case he started doing things as strange as his speech.
“Major would be good,” said Pestilence. “Something to do with oath-breaking, obviously.”
Scuffles closed his eyes to help him concentrate and tried to ignore Famine murmuring, “Not so much slippery when wet as greasy when excited, amirite?” He tried to relax, tried to forget about the rope and the heights – or depths – of this cave, and to his surprise found himself remembering the hippos. He smiled, oddly happy for a moment, and then his senses extended and he felt the world around him spill outwards like a water-filled bubble bursting into vacuum. Here and there were tiny vortices, tight pockets of conflict, coloured to distinguish the kind of underlying problem. Green whorls were born of jealousy, yellow whirlpools where were melancholy and sadness tore at happy and content, and a rainbow of other shades and hues danced across the map, growing and shrinking. Some correlated, both positively and negatively, and others lived lives of their own. He searched, and then found a glossy ivory whorl. He started to speak, to point it out, but he felt Pestilence somewhere near him, looking at the map, so he pointed instead.
“Right li’l bro,” said Pestilence in his ear, and there was a sensation of falling that made him scream and grab for the nearest solid object, and then he opened his eyes and they were standing on a greasy pavement outside a kebab shop and a brothel and he was clutching a terrified looking man in a cheap suit who was wearing thick glasses and a Barcelona supporter’s scarf.
“Don’t mind him, sis,” said Famine. “He doesn’t get out much.”
Sucked dry
Empty
Waiting to be filled
Greg - the latter possibility seems the most likely, to be honest.
This whole thing is delightful. Pest in particular, but the description of what Scuffles was seeing was excellent. And... where have they found themselves now?
Morganna - nicely done with so few words. Impressive, as usual.
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