Hmm, this is a useful prompt as Fabian is about to discover something that's locked and might just be another secret of the Empire. Of which there seem to be a lot....
Locked Fabian settled down into his second favourite armchair -- his favourite armchair had been a victim of his divorce and, at least according to the video recording she'd sent him, had been burned by his ex-wife with an effigy of him sat in it. He'd sent the recording to secure storage just in case she came after him for anything else and resigned himself to a chair that wasn't quite as comfortable as he remember the old one being. Thinking about now, he shifted slightly, hearing the chair squeak a little, and decided that his favourite would never have complained like that. There was a faint smell of lavender drifting through the house from where he'd done some polishing and cleaning on his return from the restaurant. The house had needed it and he suspected that he needed to do something to let the alcohol digest, or whatever his liver did with it. Now though his hands were slightly red from rubbing things with damp cloths and wondering why dust never seemed to stop settling and he was feeling like a sit-down was in order. He picked the blue-covered book back up again and flipped it open to his bookmark and continued reading. His reading was only interrupted by the need to turn a lamp on when it got dark and when he finally closed the book on the last page he realised, with a start, that it was almost midnight. "Bedtime," he murmured as his stomach grumbled. He considered food but felt too lazy to make an effort; he could fall asleep quickly enough that the hunger wouldn't keep him awake and there was always breakfast tomorrow. But before then.... He picked up his tablet from the coffee table, noted absently that there were several work-related messages pending, and tapped Dread's icon. It was, he felt, a little late to call, so he selected text message and tapped out, "This book says there are four main uses for an Umber Hulk's heart. Three seem pretty arcane, but what's a Staff of Five Elements?". He paused for a moment wondering if he should be clearer and then remembered it was Dread he was talking to. He tapped Send and took himself off to bed.
When he woke there was sunlight shining in through badly-drawn curtains and he rolled over to get it out of his eyes and fell out of bed. He groaned and wondered why he was right on the edge of the bed, and then discovered he'd apparently gone to bed sideways. He sat up, untangling himself from the bedsheets and tossing them back onto the mattress and wondered how tired he'd actually been last night. He didn't actually remember going to bed when he thought about it. His tablet was on the bedside table -- the one with the slightly wobbly leg as his ex-wife had taken all the rest of the bedroom furniture save that and the bed -- and he noted that there were nearly fifteen messages pending. Frowning, he remembered he'd been reading the night before and clearly hadn't checked messages before going to bed. He glanced at them to see if there was anything urgent he'd missed and saw one from Dread: "Do NOT try researching the Staff of Five Elements." "Why not?" he sent back and then his bladder demanded his urgent and immediate attention.
When he returned to the bedroom showered and refreshed he saw another message from Dread. "Staff is locked," it said. "Its only use in the Empire is to access the Halls of Sunset. Stop asking." Fabian dressed slowly, picking out comfortable, casual clothes suitable for a Sunday where he intended to see no-one and do as little as possible. The Halls of Sunset were an oddity: they had once fallen under the administration of the New Imperial Museum and so he knew about them, but that had changed about fifteen years ago -- shortly before the Day of no Sun if he thought about it, and it was odd that that had come up recently as well -- but now they were administered by the Assessors and no-one, not even the Assessors, were reportedly allowed in. The Halls of Sunset where were historical magical artefacts were stored, though the Museum had plenty of small, magical artefacts of its own. Fabian picked a grey hoodie with a popular cartoon character on the back and put it on. He couldn't think of any time while he'd been Director when they'd sent anything to the Halls of Sunset for storage but it was entirely possible that the Maestro did it without telling him. That earned a sigh, which he felt slightly annoyed with himself for not catching. However, the Maestro would be coming into his office for his book back tomorrow, so he could ask him about it then. Discretely, of course, since Dread seemed to think there was as issue. He picked his tablet up and realised that he'd have to deal with the work-related messages, but his stomach was insisting he eat.... "Technically the Halls of Sunset are my remit," he messaged back to Dread. "They're officially part of the Directorate of Museums, though they're administered by the Assessors." The reply was so fast Fabian suspected that Dread had been waiting for a statement rather like the one he'd sent. "And you want the Assessors back visiting you again?"
Greg - the second favorite chair is a great opening detail. The wobbly bedside table later on is equally nicely done. Stuff like that really brings this story to life.
The Halls of Sunset sound interesting! I wonder if we'll get to have a visit before all is said and done...
3 comments:
Hmm, this is a useful prompt as Fabian is about to discover something that's locked and might just be another secret of the Empire. Of which there seem to be a lot....
Locked
Fabian settled down into his second favourite armchair -- his favourite armchair had been a victim of his divorce and, at least according to the video recording she'd sent him, had been burned by his ex-wife with an effigy of him sat in it. He'd sent the recording to secure storage just in case she came after him for anything else and resigned himself to a chair that wasn't quite as comfortable as he remember the old one being. Thinking about now, he shifted slightly, hearing the chair squeak a little, and decided that his favourite would never have complained like that.
There was a faint smell of lavender drifting through the house from where he'd done some polishing and cleaning on his return from the restaurant. The house had needed it and he suspected that he needed to do something to let the alcohol digest, or whatever his liver did with it. Now though his hands were slightly red from rubbing things with damp cloths and wondering why dust never seemed to stop settling and he was feeling like a sit-down was in order. He picked the blue-covered book back up again and flipped it open to his bookmark and continued reading. His reading was only interrupted by the need to turn a lamp on when it got dark and when he finally closed the book on the last page he realised, with a start, that it was almost midnight.
"Bedtime," he murmured as his stomach grumbled. He considered food but felt too lazy to make an effort; he could fall asleep quickly enough that the hunger wouldn't keep him awake and there was always breakfast tomorrow. But before then....
He picked up his tablet from the coffee table, noted absently that there were several work-related messages pending, and tapped Dread's icon. It was, he felt, a little late to call, so he selected text message and tapped out, "This book says there are four main uses for an Umber Hulk's heart. Three seem pretty arcane, but what's a Staff of Five Elements?". He paused for a moment wondering if he should be clearer and then remembered it was Dread he was talking to. He tapped Send and took himself off to bed.
When he woke there was sunlight shining in through badly-drawn curtains and he rolled over to get it out of his eyes and fell out of bed. He groaned and wondered why he was right on the edge of the bed, and then discovered he'd apparently gone to bed sideways. He sat up, untangling himself from the bedsheets and tossing them back onto the mattress and wondered how tired he'd actually been last night. He didn't actually remember going to bed when he thought about it.
His tablet was on the bedside table -- the one with the slightly wobbly leg as his ex-wife had taken all the rest of the bedroom furniture save that and the bed -- and he noted that there were nearly fifteen messages pending. Frowning, he remembered he'd been reading the night before and clearly hadn't checked messages before going to bed. He glanced at them to see if there was anything urgent he'd missed and saw one from Dread: "Do NOT try researching the Staff of Five Elements."
"Why not?" he sent back and then his bladder demanded his urgent and immediate attention.
When he returned to the bedroom showered and refreshed he saw another message from Dread. "Staff is locked," it said. "Its only use in the Empire is to access the Halls of Sunset. Stop asking."
Fabian dressed slowly, picking out comfortable, casual clothes suitable for a Sunday where he intended to see no-one and do as little as possible. The Halls of Sunset were an oddity: they had once fallen under the administration of the New Imperial Museum and so he knew about them, but that had changed about fifteen years ago -- shortly before the Day of no Sun if he thought about it, and it was odd that that had come up recently as well -- but now they were administered by the Assessors and no-one, not even the Assessors, were reportedly allowed in. The Halls of Sunset where were historical magical artefacts were stored, though the Museum had plenty of small, magical artefacts of its own.
Fabian picked a grey hoodie with a popular cartoon character on the back and put it on. He couldn't think of any time while he'd been Director when they'd sent anything to the Halls of Sunset for storage but it was entirely possible that the Maestro did it without telling him. That earned a sigh, which he felt slightly annoyed with himself for not catching. However, the Maestro would be coming into his office for his book back tomorrow, so he could ask him about it then. Discretely, of course, since Dread seemed to think there was as issue.
He picked his tablet up and realised that he'd have to deal with the work-related messages, but his stomach was insisting he eat....
"Technically the Halls of Sunset are my remit," he messaged back to Dread. "They're officially part of the Directorate of Museums, though they're administered by the Assessors."
The reply was so fast Fabian suspected that Dread had been waiting for a statement rather like the one he'd sent.
"And you want the Assessors back visiting you again?"
Greg - the second favorite chair is a great opening detail. The wobbly bedside table later on is equally nicely done. Stuff like that really brings this story to life.
The Halls of Sunset sound interesting! I wonder if we'll get to have a visit before all is said and done...
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