Having seen how hot it's getting over there, and that Prince Rupert seems to be the only place with sensible temperatures, I don't blame you. I think being near water is a very good idea! I would also advise staying away from my beach today, but for other reasons :)
The beach The sand is grey and stretches into the distance in either direction. The sea washes at it feebly, tiny white-crested waves slapping down onto the beach with effort but little impact as though trying to wash it clean again, but there's no success. The sun is low and the clouds on the horizon are striated, layered up so that only slices of the sun can peek through at any time. A little like peering at through venetian blinds only without the control.
The wind picks up a little, going from a barely noticeable tug at War's jacket to a slightly stronger fluttering of the tails of it. It brings with it a salty smell and something else, something more organic and ammoniac, as though something of the sea has died nearby. He shrugs and fastens the lowest button of his jacket to stop it flapping around, and stares around. Behind him, inland, the beach recedes into grey sand-dunes. They are bare; grass refuses to grow here still. Along the beach there is nothing save the occasional silhouette of a seagull; they wheel and turn but don't linger, soon returning inland again to somewhere healthier. And out to sea there is just the nearly-flat surface, tiny waves rippling across it with the wind, and the occluded horizon.
"Why are we meeting here?" A young girl, blonde hair in pigtails and a red summer dress that is oddly jarring against the grey sand, steps out of thin air and looks around her with the air of someone who feels that it is difficult to get good staff these days. "I don't recognise this place."
"Antigon beach," says War. His voice is deep and sonorous and seems to come from all around although there's nothing for sound to bounce off and echo from. He lifts an arm and waves a hand. "Nuclear testing facility, if you prefer."
The girl's mouth hardens as she presses her lips together. She holds a hand out and a grey box with a white screen falls into it and starts clicking. She watches the screen, seeing the little needle flick back and forth across the graded scale. "Rather more background radiation than I tend to summer in," she says. "Are you just trying to prove a point? If you want to demonstrate you can't get cancer you could just ask Pestilence to do his best."
The wind stirs a little more and tugs at hairs that have come lose from her pigtails. She smooths a hand over her head and looks around some more, looking disappointed that there's so little to see.
"It's a reminder," says War. "A memento mori, if you like. That even War can come to an end if the weapons used are savage enough."
The little girl, also known as Friendly Fire, sighs. "You're getting maudlin," she says. "Where one war ends, another starts. There's no such thing as a Mediated Outcome or Amicable Settlement, and you ought to know that."
War laughs, and it's oddly hollow. "You killed both of them, didn't you?" he says, but it's not really a question. "I never like Amicable anyway, she was pretentious."
"She was a stuck-up bitch," says Friendly Fire. "Can we go somewhere a bit less... radioactive now?"
2 comments:
Having seen how hot it's getting over there, and that Prince Rupert seems to be the only place with sensible temperatures, I don't blame you. I think being near water is a very good idea! I would also advise staying away from my beach today, but for other reasons :)
The beach
The sand is grey and stretches into the distance in either direction. The sea washes at it feebly, tiny white-crested waves slapping down onto the beach with effort but little impact as though trying to wash it clean again, but there's no success. The sun is low and the clouds on the horizon are striated, layered up so that only slices of the sun can peek through at any time. A little like peering at through venetian blinds only without the control.
The wind picks up a little, going from a barely noticeable tug at War's jacket to a slightly stronger fluttering of the tails of it. It brings with it a salty smell and something else, something more organic and ammoniac, as though something of the sea has died nearby. He shrugs and fastens the lowest button of his jacket to stop it flapping around, and stares around. Behind him, inland, the beach recedes into grey sand-dunes. They are bare; grass refuses to grow here still. Along the beach there is nothing save the occasional silhouette of a seagull; they wheel and turn but don't linger, soon returning inland again to somewhere healthier. And out to sea there is just the nearly-flat surface, tiny waves rippling across it with the wind, and the occluded horizon.
"Why are we meeting here?" A young girl, blonde hair in pigtails and a red summer dress that is oddly jarring against the grey sand, steps out of thin air and looks around her with the air of someone who feels that it is difficult to get good staff these days. "I don't recognise this place."
"Antigon beach," says War. His voice is deep and sonorous and seems to come from all around although there's nothing for sound to bounce off and echo from. He lifts an arm and waves a hand. "Nuclear testing facility, if you prefer."
The girl's mouth hardens as she presses her lips together. She holds a hand out and a grey box with a white screen falls into it and starts clicking. She watches the screen, seeing the little needle flick back and forth across the graded scale. "Rather more background radiation than I tend to summer in," she says. "Are you just trying to prove a point? If you want to demonstrate you can't get cancer you could just ask Pestilence to do his best."
The wind stirs a little more and tugs at hairs that have come lose from her pigtails. She smooths a hand over her head and looks around some more, looking disappointed that there's so little to see.
"It's a reminder," says War. "A memento mori, if you like. That even War can come to an end if the weapons used are savage enough."
The little girl, also known as Friendly Fire, sighs. "You're getting maudlin," she says. "Where one war ends, another starts. There's no such thing as a Mediated Outcome or Amicable Settlement, and you ought to know that."
War laughs, and it's oddly hollow. "You killed both of them, didn't you?" he says, but it's not really a question. "I never like Amicable anyway, she was pretentious."
"She was a stuck-up bitch," says Friendly Fire. "Can we go somewhere a bit less... radioactive now?"
Greg - does that mean I shouldn't read this? I feel like it means I shouldn't read this...
Oh, well, I'm certainly glad that I did! Is Friendly Fire new? I don't remember meeting her before. And she seems rather memorable :)
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