Lost Hand: Disappointment
Note : Hi. Yeah so I've fallen way behind but maybe tomorrow I'll be able to put more than one piece up.
Nature of the Piece: theater
Characters: Master, Hand
Universe: the metaverse
World: An unnamed world, probably one of Hand's haunts
Chronology: The action of this piece occurs 29+ years after that of all the pieces in which Master is a child ( Distinction, Summons ( part 1 and part 2), Building and Tunneling, Shadows and Reality). It is not fixed canon at this point --- more in the realm of plot/character experimentation.
Summary of previous action: When Master was a child, he created a means of summoning his oldest and most peculiar imaginary friend (Hand) at will, thereby binding Hand to him as a servant of sorts. Great fun was had by all UNTIL, at the age of thirteen, Master (accidentally) triggered an Event that severely disabled his mind and tore him from his world as he knew it. The Hand had more or less set him up to do as much, and subsequently vanished. Over the next 29 years Master slowly pieced together some semblance of a life, the which he devoted exclusively it to hunting down the Hand. When he finally finds it, however, the fantasy of exacting sweet, sweet vengeance is dashed by several unexpected realizations. Due angst ensues.
~'.'~|=|:~O~:|=|~'.'~
(A cavern. MASTER lies on his back beside a pool, staring despondently at the stalactites overhead. He is the portrait of existential despair. HAND approaches said portrait cautiously.)
HAND: Have I . . . disappointed you? (Pause.) Master?
MASTER (quietly): Liar.
HAND: What?
MASTER (exploding): Liar!
(The HAND retreats, and MASTER re-assumes his posture of dispirited calm.)
MASTER: I came here to kill you, you know? (Pause.) Yes, of course you know. But it turns out you are even more disappointing as an enemy than you were as a friend. Even your lies are disappointments: you haven't changed at all. You are exactly as I remember you, and for that very reason, because I have changed, you are nothing like the threat I imagined. I know what you are, so save us both the farce and don't call me that again.
HAND: Call you . . . ?
MASTER (jumping up impatiently): Call me Master! (Pause.) Look at you. You don't even mean it as an insult! It's just a game you like to play --- not to win, not to lose, not even to manipulate. Just to play. But it was a game you let me believe was my life, and if it's all the same to you I would rather not play anymore. If you want a formal ending, consider this my last command: never call me that again.
~'.'~|=|:~O~:|=|~'.'~
Nature of the Piece: theater
Characters: Master, Hand
Universe: the metaverse
World: An unnamed world, probably one of Hand's haunts
Chronology: The action of this piece occurs 29+ years after that of all the pieces in which Master is a child ( Distinction, Summons ( part 1 and part 2), Building and Tunneling, Shadows and Reality). It is not fixed canon at this point --- more in the realm of plot/character experimentation.
Summary of previous action: When Master was a child, he created a means of summoning his oldest and most peculiar imaginary friend (Hand) at will, thereby binding Hand to him as a servant of sorts. Great fun was had by all UNTIL, at the age of thirteen, Master (accidentally) triggered an Event that severely disabled his mind and tore him from his world as he knew it. The Hand had more or less set him up to do as much, and subsequently vanished. Over the next 29 years Master slowly pieced together some semblance of a life, the which he devoted exclusively it to hunting down the Hand. When he finally finds it, however, the fantasy of exacting sweet, sweet vengeance is dashed by several unexpected realizations. Due angst ensues.
~'.'~|=|:~O~:|=|~'.'~
(A cavern. MASTER lies on his back beside a pool, staring despondently at the stalactites overhead. He is the portrait of existential despair. HAND approaches said portrait cautiously.)
HAND: Have I . . . disappointed you? (Pause.) Master?
MASTER (quietly): Liar.
HAND: What?
MASTER (exploding): Liar!
(The HAND retreats, and MASTER re-assumes his posture of dispirited calm.)
MASTER: I came here to kill you, you know? (Pause.) Yes, of course you know. But it turns out you are even more disappointing as an enemy than you were as a friend. Even your lies are disappointments: you haven't changed at all. You are exactly as I remember you, and for that very reason, because I have changed, you are nothing like the threat I imagined. I know what you are, so save us both the farce and don't call me that again.
HAND: Call you . . . ?
MASTER (jumping up impatiently): Call me Master! (Pause.) Look at you. You don't even mean it as an insult! It's just a game you like to play --- not to win, not to lose, not even to manipulate. Just to play. But it was a game you let me believe was my life, and if it's all the same to you I would rather not play anymore. If you want a formal ending, consider this my last command: never call me that again.
~'.'~|=|:~O~:|=|~'.'~