The Characters Conversations - I
Where the author meets Ren and Kittin face to face to discuss their future. Damn characters who can never stay quiet, and always need to rant, argue, and demand me to take them to other directions than planned at first! (I honestly didn't think Ren would become that spunky. No kidding.)
Kittin: Author, we need to talk.
Ren: I second that.
Yzabel: Right.
Ren: We're fed up with the weird stuff you make us do.
Yzabel: What weird stuff?
Kittin: Lemme recap... Snatching a 'thopter prototype from the Army's hands, crashing against this odd wall around our continent, remaining alive, meeting these three guys who say they can read thoughts and...
Yzabel: What, you complain that you're alive?
Kittin: No, we complain that we have to go through tons of crap just to remain alive anyway in the end. Can't we stay home and obtain the same result for a change?
Yzabel: * mutters * You, I should've left you dead.
Kittin: 'Beg your pardon?
Yzabel: No, nothing.
Ren: We still need to talk.
Yzabel: Isn't it what we're doing?
Ren: I mean, we must settle this down.
Kittin: Oh, screw that. Let's get outta here.
Yzabel: Well, no.
Kittin: Why no?
Yzabel: Because you've been a pain in the ass for weeks demanding to be put in this story, so now you stay in.
Kittin: Aw, shit.
Ren: Looks like we don't have many options, eh?
Yzabel: Well, you could go with these three strangers you've met.
Ren: What for?
Yzabel: They saved your sorry lives.
Ren: Oh, sure. Shall I bring flowers, too?
Yzabel: I didn't create you to have such a 'tude, you know.
Ren: Too bad you put me through enough crap in the span of two chapters to make me reconsider being a nice guy.
Yzabel: One more word, and I-
Ren: You what? Will kill me? Hurt me? I took a fork in the chest, I'm a traitor in my country, my family's probably been brought to trial because of that, and I saw our co-pilot's head severed by a frigging ornithopter wing in front of my eyes. See, I still have his blood on my shirt with everyone else's. What can go worse?
Yzabel: I could make you a telepath, too.
Ren: You wouldn't dare.
Yzabel: Okay, that's set.
Ren: Mothaf...
Kittin: She's only doing that to annoy you.
Yzabel: I could do worse. Be thankful.
Ren: Worse like what?
Yzabel: Like making you angst over all the lives you've already killed just because you've been building missiles for the Army for the past five years. Then you'd be brooding for the whole duration of the story, and all the readers would hate you in the end. Or wanting to smack you with a shovel to shake you up. Or both.
Ren: Okay, I shut up.
Yzabel: Good.
Ren: Toughie.
Yzabel: Nope, Storyteller for White Wolf role-playing games. You can't beat that.
Ren: I'm sure I could.
Yzabel: Try me.
Ren: I ain't without resources. I still have... uhm... my brains!
Kittin: Everybody run.
Yzabel: I can find a solution for this, too.
Ren: WHAT?
Yzabel: Just kidding. I don't want a stupid hero. Go on.
Ren: Nope. If I do, you'll steal my plan and pervert it. I know you.
Yzabel: Don't tell me, and it's something else I'll pervert.
Ren: Roger that. Well, I could try and take this continent's Church down? They're annoying control-freaks. And they don't like strangers nor women.
Kittin: Hey! That's MY line!
Ren: Oops, sorry. Okay. What about... err... bringing technology to this stupid medieval-like continent! They sure could do with a printing press.
Yzabel: You can't be serious. You don't even know how to build a printing press. Besides, they're frightened by everything that is too scientific. Hell, they're already frightened by people who can read thoughts.
Kittin: Everybody's frightened by people who can read thoughts.
Ren: Except people who can read thoughts.
Kittin: Yeah. Don't even try it on me, or I'll show you what I can do with a monkey wrench.
Ren: No worries. I'll just build firearms and teach the guards how to use them. This I know how to do.
Yzabel: You can't. I made you a telepath. Their rules forbid you to use weapons.
Ren: Their rules forbid me to use weapons longer than a dagger. A gun is shorter.
Yzabel: You, I forgot to remove the "wits" attribute from your character sheet.
Ren: Seriously, you really want to make me a telepath? Isn't it a bit...
Yzabel: Twisted? Yeah. That's why I like the idea.
Ren: Crap. Make me one that'll be a problem, then. At least I may have some fun trying to save my hide. Again.
Yzabel: It's already planned.
Ren: * shakes head * No spontaneity in this novel at all.
Kittin: We should've known better, huh.
Yzabel: Don't complain. There's plenty in store for you as well.
Kittin: What if I complain?
Yzabel: I'll turn you into a Sue.
Kittin: Eeew. No way. My chest is too flat for this, anyway. I wouldn't be stunningly beautiful.
Yzabel: It's still the first draft. I can change that.
Kittin: Oh, no. No, no, no. I like being the local tomboy.
Yzabel: Yeah, that's what you haven't stopped telling me for two weeks.
Kittin: * sighs * Alright. Let me remain the feisty girl for a little more longer, and I... lessee... I can become a real pain for the antagonists in the novel!
Yzabel: Good idea. You'll be friends with some of the other women in there, then.
Kittin: Only women?
Yzabel: 'Course not, but there are some you'd get along with, I'm sure.
Kittin: As long as they don't spend their days talking of make-up and of bringing up kids, I'm alright.
Yzabel: No, they spend their days trying to figure out how to bring electricity to all the room of a house. They don't even have make-up.
Kittin: Wow. How come you're so kind with me all of a sudden?
Ren: It's a trap.
Yzabel: * glares at Ren * Because I like you no matter what.
Kittin: One thing, though.
Yzabel: Sure?
Kittin: Don't put me in Ren's bed.
Ren: * chokes *
Yzabel: * snickers *
Kittin: I mean, I like him and all, and we're good friends, but really, I think there's more to me than just being the hero's fuck.
Ren: What makes you think I would want you in my bed!
Kittin: Bit on the touchy side today, eh?
Ren: Nope. We just have an agreement.
Kittin: And it'd better stay this way.
Ren: Friends?
Kittin: Friends.
Yzabel: * mutters * Can't we get to the point....
Kheril: Author, we need to talk.
Yzabel: Oh, shit...
[To be continued... No doubt]