TM Prompt #330: I.O.U.
There are shadows that stretch long. Far into the future.
There's other shamans. (Twins? Shadows again? Another question for another time. Something to ask the skull kept hidden in a box - grisly heirloom, sacred remains. The dead have always been rather vocal.)
Also. The goddess.
(Or at least half of one.)
The shrouding of light does not go unnoticed. There are echoes everywhere of past/future/present and the damage being done.
None of which seems relevant to the tiny office in Ottawa, with it's venetian blinds in need of a good dust and the novelty mug leaving coffee rings on the desk. The overhead florescents buzz like drugged wasps, keeping any darkness at bay. (So it seems.)
"...yes, but the fact remains that these disturbances have yet to be explained. Look, I just got on of my operatives back-- no, it doesn't concern you WHY he was off duty."
Hudson sighs, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. In the doorway Puck waits, shaking his head. When she finally hangs up she gives him a rueful grin.
"Sorry."
"Happens."
"Is Anne back?"
"Nope. Haven't had any contact with her since she talked to Wildchild. Feels like something is up, eh?"
"Tell me she didn't leave any cryptic notes on the lunchroom whiteboard."
A rich chuckle. "No. Speaking of which... you look starved, eh. You wanna get dinner? My treat."
Of course it would be.
(It's just dinner.
With another man.
What would
but he
shhh he'll hear you)
Hudson smiles. "Thanks, but no. I need to call a few more people, do some more research."
Puck nods and turns to go, but she halts him.
"Hey. I.O.U., 'kay?"
"Sure thing."
There's other shamans. (Twins? Shadows again? Another question for another time. Something to ask the skull kept hidden in a box - grisly heirloom, sacred remains. The dead have always been rather vocal.)
Also. The goddess.
(Or at least half of one.)
The shrouding of light does not go unnoticed. There are echoes everywhere of past/future/present and the damage being done.
None of which seems relevant to the tiny office in Ottawa, with it's venetian blinds in need of a good dust and the novelty mug leaving coffee rings on the desk. The overhead florescents buzz like drugged wasps, keeping any darkness at bay. (So it seems.)
"...yes, but the fact remains that these disturbances have yet to be explained. Look, I just got on of my operatives back-- no, it doesn't concern you WHY he was off duty."
Hudson sighs, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. In the doorway Puck waits, shaking his head. When she finally hangs up she gives him a rueful grin.
"Sorry."
"Happens."
"Is Anne back?"
"Nope. Haven't had any contact with her since she talked to Wildchild. Feels like something is up, eh?"
"Tell me she didn't leave any cryptic notes on the lunchroom whiteboard."
A rich chuckle. "No. Speaking of which... you look starved, eh. You wanna get dinner? My treat."
Of course it would be.
(It's just dinner.
With another man.
What would
but he
shhh he'll hear you)
Hudson smiles. "Thanks, but no. I need to call a few more people, do some more research."
Puck nods and turns to go, but she halts him.
"Hey. I.O.U., 'kay?"
"Sure thing."