[Deaths] on campaign
Title: a bit of creative plumbing later . .
'Verse/characters: Death be Not Proud; Eduard De'Ath, Julian De'Ath, First of China, Azrael, the Morrigan
Prompt: 87A "beneath these hands", klgaffney: "leaking copper pipe"
Word Count: 340
Notes: mid-stages campaign, not sure what's going on, though.
The underside of the keep was riddled with old tunnels, put to new uses by the council holding it, but still matching the dusty, tattered map a dig through the archives of Vienna had produced.
The air was wet and cool, condensate forming on stone and the pipes running everywhere, but it wasn't until Juliane inquired "Is that supposed to be doing that?" that he bothered to consider the fact.
Everyone's heads tilted back to contemplate the ceiling, and the old copper pipe she was indicating.
The First of China squinted upwards, then ventured "I doubt it."
"Anyone particularly sensitive to lightning?" she inquired further, still staring at the steadily-dripping pipe, gaze sharpened with a nasty glint in her eye to anyone who knew her.
Which, at the moment, was the Morrigan, who looked intrigued, and he himself, who was wondering what in God's name she was up to.
"It's not comfortable," the Morrigan said, "But no, no problem."
The First looked smug--but then he still hadn't quite stopped glowing from the last time he'd fought, so lightning was probably a moot point at the moment.
Eduard found himself and Azrael both shrugging at roughly the same time.
"Oh, good," his niece murmered, then looked at Azrael, who looked back, like he'd have considered retreating a pace or two even a hundred-odd years ago.
"Would you give me a leg up?" she pointed at the pipe.
Azrael had the good grace not to look at anyone else for permission, just made a step with his hands and heaved as she set a boot in it.
He and Eduard did exchange a look once she was focused on beating the pipe with the hilt of a knife she'd taken off a man at the last field, though.
Metal joinery eventually gave under determined fingers, and water started pouring down onto the floor.
It wasn't until she started prizing at a separate pipe, this one newer and more decorated, that Eduard realised what she was planning, and felt a slow, evil smile spread across his face.
He hadn't noticed they were running power down here, too, along with their communicator lines and plumbing.
'Verse/characters: Death be Not Proud; Eduard De'Ath, Julian De'Ath, First of China, Azrael, the Morrigan
Prompt: 87A "beneath these hands", klgaffney: "leaking copper pipe"
Word Count: 340
Notes: mid-stages campaign, not sure what's going on, though.
The underside of the keep was riddled with old tunnels, put to new uses by the council holding it, but still matching the dusty, tattered map a dig through the archives of Vienna had produced.
The air was wet and cool, condensate forming on stone and the pipes running everywhere, but it wasn't until Juliane inquired "Is that supposed to be doing that?" that he bothered to consider the fact.
Everyone's heads tilted back to contemplate the ceiling, and the old copper pipe she was indicating.
The First of China squinted upwards, then ventured "I doubt it."
"Anyone particularly sensitive to lightning?" she inquired further, still staring at the steadily-dripping pipe, gaze sharpened with a nasty glint in her eye to anyone who knew her.
Which, at the moment, was the Morrigan, who looked intrigued, and he himself, who was wondering what in God's name she was up to.
"It's not comfortable," the Morrigan said, "But no, no problem."
The First looked smug--but then he still hadn't quite stopped glowing from the last time he'd fought, so lightning was probably a moot point at the moment.
Eduard found himself and Azrael both shrugging at roughly the same time.
"Oh, good," his niece murmered, then looked at Azrael, who looked back, like he'd have considered retreating a pace or two even a hundred-odd years ago.
"Would you give me a leg up?" she pointed at the pipe.
Azrael had the good grace not to look at anyone else for permission, just made a step with his hands and heaved as she set a boot in it.
He and Eduard did exchange a look once she was focused on beating the pipe with the hilt of a knife she'd taken off a man at the last field, though.
Metal joinery eventually gave under determined fingers, and water started pouring down onto the floor.
It wasn't until she started prizing at a separate pipe, this one newer and more decorated, that Eduard realised what she was planning, and felt a slow, evil smile spread across his face.
He hadn't noticed they were running power down here, too, along with their communicator lines and plumbing.