Well, I guess if you have slippery slopes then a reconfiguration is just a good plan :)
Reconfiguration Fabian was delighted to get through the rest of the day with few interruptions and delivered the stack of paperwork to the admin office with a feeling of pride a few minutes after 4: early enough that they had time to sort it before going home themselves, but late enough that he was unlikely to get questioned about any of it until the following day. Then he left the Museum, slightly nervous that if Cass saw him she might question him arriving late and leaving early on the same day, but confident that there was nothing that actually needed his attention at that moment. Provided you ignored Cass's desire to annex the Halls of Sunset and inspect them. The afternoon was warm and though the sun was low in the sky the light was pleasantly golden and Fabian decided that he would walk along the river to get home. It took slightly longer but he enjoyed the noise of the water and the scattering of children playing there provided they didn't hit him with anything or run under his feet. There was a broad boulevard that ran along the embankment with trees dotted here and there; some reaching aspirationally to the sky and others dipping their branches in the water as though trawling for something lost. He walked along and noticed that there was, unusually, a bench with no-one else sitting on it. It was set at the back of the boulevard with a good view of the river and the ruins of a Wisp-elf church in a meadow on the other side, out of the way of pedestrians and running, laughing children alike. Seized by a sudden urge to sit and ponder, he detoured to it.
The bench was half in sunlight and half out and he elected to sit on the shadier side. He leaned back against polished wood, wondering which Imperial department looked after it, and contemplated the river. Across the way the meadow-grass stirred lightly, caressed by a breeze that didn't make it to Fabian's side of the river, and he wondered if the church ruins were protected by Imperial decree or if no-one had got round to demolishing them and building something else yet. His eyes felt curiously drawn to the ruins and he found himself staring at it. He knew little about Wisp-elves; they and Otter-elves had been the smallest groups of Elven communities even before the Empire had decided they were vermin. The stones of the church seemed dark against the grass, somehow reconfigured, and he felt slightly dizzy. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes and the dizziness dissipated like early morning mist as the sun rises. He looked about him; children still played and laughed and a few people strolled past, but no-one seemed inclined to invade his bench so he remained sitting. After a few more seconds he found himself staring at the ruins again; the Wisp-elves, he remembered, were considered the most mystical of the Elf-clans. Rust-elves were artificers and artisans and Spider-elves were the warrior clan. Dizziness swept up from his neck and he caught his breath. He shook his head again, but it was harder now to look away from the ruins and he looked back, his vision beginning to swim. He wanted to rub his eyes, but it was hard to lift his hands, so he pressed them again the bench and forced himself to stand up, where he swayed. "Everything alright, Sir?" asked a reedy voice, high-pitched and almost musical. The words seemed to lilt and then a hand took his and the dizziness vanished, sweeping up and out of his head. Blood pounded in his ears for a moment and his vision seemed to fill with sparkling motes of light, and then it reconfigured into sharply defined normalcy. "I think so," said Fabian, looking down. He expected to see a child and was startled to see the sharp, angular, pixy-like features of an elven face. He squinted, wondering if his vision was still funny, but it was an elf -- a rust elf, he thought -- and not a child with unusually strong rust-elf heritage. "Uh," he said, and decided to sit down. "Is it safe for you to be out here like this?" "No," said the elf. "But you looked like you needed help." "Thank-you," said Fabian reflexively. He looked at the elf and then over at the church. The ruins seemed quite boring now. "I was looking at the church, I think my mind wandered." "Something like that," said the rust elf. It looked about; while the adults seemed not to be noticing it one or two children has spotted it and were staring. It was clearly only a matter of time before they started pointing. "I should go. But... if you need help again, my name's Rystin." "Rystin," said Fabian. He rubbed his eyes. "Rystin." But Rystin was gone.
Greg - yeah, mostly planning a route with no hills...
I do enjoy a day that ends with the work finished and no time for new work to arrive on my desk. Good for Fabian!
Hmm, more elf backstory. I like it! And Rystin is an intriguing addition to Fabian's tale. Really looking forward to seeing how everything comes together.
3 comments:
Well, I guess if you have slippery slopes then a reconfiguration is just a good plan :)
Reconfiguration
Fabian was delighted to get through the rest of the day with few interruptions and delivered the stack of paperwork to the admin office with a feeling of pride a few minutes after 4: early enough that they had time to sort it before going home themselves, but late enough that he was unlikely to get questioned about any of it until the following day. Then he left the Museum, slightly nervous that if Cass saw him she might question him arriving late and leaving early on the same day, but confident that there was nothing that actually needed his attention at that moment. Provided you ignored Cass's desire to annex the Halls of Sunset and inspect them.
The afternoon was warm and though the sun was low in the sky the light was pleasantly golden and Fabian decided that he would walk along the river to get home. It took slightly longer but he enjoyed the noise of the water and the scattering of children playing there provided they didn't hit him with anything or run under his feet. There was a broad boulevard that ran along the embankment with trees dotted here and there; some reaching aspirationally to the sky and others dipping their branches in the water as though trawling for something lost. He walked along and noticed that there was, unusually, a bench with no-one else sitting on it. It was set at the back of the boulevard with a good view of the river and the ruins of a Wisp-elf church in a meadow on the other side, out of the way of pedestrians and running, laughing children alike. Seized by a sudden urge to sit and ponder, he detoured to it.
The bench was half in sunlight and half out and he elected to sit on the shadier side. He leaned back against polished wood, wondering which Imperial department looked after it, and contemplated the river. Across the way the meadow-grass stirred lightly, caressed by a breeze that didn't make it to Fabian's side of the river, and he wondered if the church ruins were protected by Imperial decree or if no-one had got round to demolishing them and building something else yet. His eyes felt curiously drawn to the ruins and he found himself staring at it. He knew little about Wisp-elves; they and Otter-elves had been the smallest groups of Elven communities even before the Empire had decided they were vermin. The stones of the church seemed dark against the grass, somehow reconfigured, and he felt slightly dizzy.
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes and the dizziness dissipated like early morning mist as the sun rises. He looked about him; children still played and laughed and a few people strolled past, but no-one seemed inclined to invade his bench so he remained sitting. After a few more seconds he found himself staring at the ruins again; the Wisp-elves, he remembered, were considered the most mystical of the Elf-clans. Rust-elves were artificers and artisans and Spider-elves were the warrior clan.
Dizziness swept up from his neck and he caught his breath. He shook his head again, but it was harder now to look away from the ruins and he looked back, his vision beginning to swim. He wanted to rub his eyes, but it was hard to lift his hands, so he pressed them again the bench and forced himself to stand up, where he swayed.
"Everything alright, Sir?" asked a reedy voice, high-pitched and almost musical. The words seemed to lilt and then a hand took his and the dizziness vanished, sweeping up and out of his head. Blood pounded in his ears for a moment and his vision seemed to fill with sparkling motes of light, and then it reconfigured into sharply defined normalcy.
"I think so," said Fabian, looking down. He expected to see a child and was startled to see the sharp, angular, pixy-like features of an elven face. He squinted, wondering if his vision was still funny, but it was an elf -- a rust elf, he thought -- and not a child with unusually strong rust-elf heritage.
"Uh," he said, and decided to sit down. "Is it safe for you to be out here like this?"
"No," said the elf. "But you looked like you needed help."
"Thank-you," said Fabian reflexively. He looked at the elf and then over at the church. The ruins seemed quite boring now. "I was looking at the church, I think my mind wandered."
"Something like that," said the rust elf. It looked about; while the adults seemed not to be noticing it one or two children has spotted it and were staring. It was clearly only a matter of time before they started pointing. "I should go. But... if you need help again, my name's Rystin."
"Rystin," said Fabian. He rubbed his eyes. "Rystin."
But Rystin was gone.
Greg - yeah, mostly planning a route with no hills...
I do enjoy a day that ends with the work finished and no time for new work to arrive on my desk. Good for Fabian!
Hmm, more elf backstory. I like it! And Rystin is an intriguing addition to Fabian's tale. Really looking forward to seeing how everything comes together.
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