The exercise:
Write about something that is: all-knowing.
Made it through the long weekend. Was feeling pretty tired this afternoon but having the end in sight helped a lot.
Looking forward to not waking up at 5 tomorrow morning.
Mine:
Miles has many nicknames around the house. Smiles, Monkey, Babykins... plenty more that I can't think of at the moment. Yesterday he got his latest: Miles the All-Knowing.
I guess when he's upset Kat has a tendency to say 'I know' to him, usually two or three times in a row. It would seem he has picked up on it.
He likes walking around the house saying I know, I know, I know. Often prompted by a careless I know on our part. Or Max saying 'Miles! I know! I know, Miles! I know!" until he sets him off. Because he thinks it's hilarious.
Miles also likes to combine it. If he wants up he'll say 'Up I know'. Only it usually comes out more like Upiknow. Down is Downiknow. He'll even occasionally say Alldoneiknow when he's finished with something (usually whatever he's eating).
Anyway, he was doing his usual circuit of the house yesterday, with I know on repeat, when I told Kat that he's Miles the All-Knowing.
I like it and I hope it sticks.
5am is one of the best times of the day! So many other people are still asleep and the world is fresh from the night and quiet still... it's lovely :) But I guess if you're getting less sleep than you're happy with by getting up then that might be the reason :)
ReplyDeleteSmiles is the nickname I'd have been able to guess I think. I like Miles the All-knowing though from where it's come from -- I have the same tendency to say "I know" to the dogs when they're upset (usually at the vet's obviously enough) but they can't mimic me :-D I wonder what he thinks "I know" means though?
[sorry, looks like I have to double-post again.]
The all-knowing
The coastline of Mostlybony was... mostly bony. Over fifteen thousand years of struggle and warfare on rocky land too high for the waves to wash over often had left mountains of bones that in turn had raised the overall level of the land. Rain had softened and dissolved the lower layers into something like chalk but the never-ending rage of humans and animals kept replacing them, so jagged bone-ends jutted out of the ground and made walking treacherous and fighting more a case of seeing who fell over in the wrong place first. Further inland there was soil, grass, trees and poisonous vermin, but here on the coast the land earned its name.
Melric, Prince of Mostlybony, was perched on the three-metre long skull of a Pterodont, the grey javelin Deathguard in his hand but resting its point on the skull, looking at Yammasta the All-Knowing. Melric was wearing mail armour, silver and shimmering like fish-skin, and iron-reinforced boots that were safest in this territory. On his head was a platinum circlet inset with six emeralds that he'd plucked from the walls of the Temple of Bask after killing eighteen guards.
Yammasta, high priest of the Temple of Bask, was wearing enough leather to start a protest movement amongst cows and holding a leash in one hand and a dull grey dagger in the other. The dagger was called Plaguefire and its blade was depleted uranium edged with glass, and the leash was connected to a beast, a Squirrog, that was squatting down and relieving itself.
"Give me my bloody jewels back," said Yammasta. Brown teeth bit down on blue lips and he gazed balefully at Melric. "I know your mother, you know."
"You're all-knowing," said Melric, watching the Squirrog carefully. "You should know my mother. And even if you weren't you probably should: she's unashamed and she gets about. But, and here's the puzzle for me, since you're all-knowing you must know that I'm not going to give them back. So why are you here?"
ReplyDeleteYammasta screwed up his face, his eyes disappearing into a scrunch of grey-ish skin and the Squirrog trembled. Melric half-rose, lifting the javelin's point.
"I see everything," said Yammasta, his voice thick and pained. "Absolutely bloody everything. I see you keeping the jewels, I see you giving them back, I see you pushing them into the dead flesh of a courtesan of the Ragged King and summoning the Yinkwe -- that's not such a good idea, by the way -- and I know that all of these happen somewhere. Finding out which of them happens here takes months, and usually what I find is that I spent too long trying to find out what would happen and it would be quicker if I read a newspaper. So here I am. I want my bloody jewels back."
"No," said Melric.
Yammasta kicked the Squirrog and it squealed like a pig. A ripple ran through its muscles and it spasmed, releasing a burst of raw magic. Melric and Yammasta both reached for the magic; Yammasta seized the majority of it. Plaguefire glittered malevolently.
"I know I cannot be killed," said Yammasta. He stepped forward, the dagger tracing circles in the air, humming with magical potential.
Melric lifted the javelin high: the lesser amount of magic he'd been able to seize was enough to pull lightning from the sky and it jumped from Deathguard to the ground, which shuddered and heaved.
"Do you know how long you'll have to wait for someone to dig you out?" he asked.
Greg - on a good night's sleep, 5 am is quite enjoyable. I just don't get a good night's sleep very often :)
ReplyDeleteHeh, if your dogs start mimicking you I want video proof!
Mostlybony! It has been two long. This is a fantastic scene with brilliant dialogue. Love the descriptions and I'm just so pleased you've brought us back here :D