Life in Plastic: an attack
Episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
Episode Two: In which Will falls in love, gets attacked by a huge spider, and is in general terribly manly.
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As time has passed, our situation has grown increasingly less intolerable. The room in which we reside is now wholly clean and free of both dust and animal life (or at least, so I thought until this day, but more of that later). Tara is good company, being a clever conversationalist when she puts her mind to it. There is, however, much to be desired in my present situation.
Despite being grateful for her companionship, I am baffled by the Lady Maclay's resistance to my charms. While perfectly willing to listen to pretty words, she has yet to allow any outright advances on my part. What is more, she seems to find a double entendre distinctly unfunny. This is a grave flaw in any friend or prospective lover, as I myself can think of nothing more amusing than a quip about a man's spear, unless it be a pie to a clown's face (unfortunately, we have no pies). Still, we are grateful for our improved circumstances.
Even our private residence is rather more impressive than was previously the case.
Still, perhaps Tara tires of having no female company, as she was the one to suggest exploring the room anew on the chance that all of this movement had shaken loose any previously unknown company. This I essayed with her most willingly.
The surface upon which our residence lies plays host to several gargoyles, but they have proved to be no more than they appear: rock, which although it has been given a mouth, has no words.
At the next shelf we investigated, Tara insisted upon taking the upper reaches herself with such vehemence that I judged it unwise to argue with her. She is rarely so unyielding, but I have long found that such women are most to be feared when their ire is roused. I shall find her out eventually; for now, I allow her to play her games. For my part, I encountered several wondrous small buildings (one of which seemed passing familiar, although I cannot think why) and a fearsome likeness of a cat, but again nothing living.
Tara also insisted that we not explore one shelf at all, saying that she knew well enough what was on it, and that things would be easier if I allowed her to relate to me its contents in her own time.
But then, dear reader, upon that same shelf, I did espy a woman who has changed my heart for all of eternity.
True, she is naught but a portrait, but even on paper her eyes have scorched my very soul. She is like unto a fevered dream, something conjured from the depths of desire. I stood stunned before her image for so long a time that the lady Tara joined me and asked if something was the matter.
I asked whether she knew of this woman. Tara answered that she did not, not having seen this picture before. I bemoaned that I should not know her name, and Tara, sounding a great deal more amused than she had by my witty jests, proposed that it might be Morgan le Fay, given that this was written under the hem of her dress and plain to see. I replied stiffly that I had not been looking at the hem of her dress, and Tara said, "I'll bet."
In order to keep the peace (women being jealous creatures), I proposed that we continue, to which suggestion she agreed with good will. The following shelf yielded several likely-looking figures, but again we were disappointed in our hopes for sentient company.
It was during our last act of exploration that we found life, although unfortunately it was of a most despicable kind. We were resting our legs and admiring some portraiture when, to my horror, I saw behind Tara, creeping toward her with pincers agape, a most huge and loathsome insect.
Naturally, I did as was my duty in the face of danger and defended the lady, although a lesser man might have quailed in my position. Seizing the nearest likely weapon, I set to beating the monstrous creature back.
Through furious battle I convinced the beast to turn tail in the face of my wrath, whereupon I dropped the spear and turned to ask after Tara's wellbeing. She had in the meantime taken up a strange cup nearby and filled it with something which shimmered just from the corner of my eye, and which I was sure she had not had moments before. "Throw this at it!" she exclaimed, and I gave chase to do so.
The result was gruesome to behold: the spider seemed to melt, skin eaten away so that the room stank with the oily, slick smell of burnt flesh for the rest of the night.
In view of this circumstance, I did not feel well in myself until I had convinced Tara to aid me in one last endeavor before we retired.
I shall sleep the better for knowing that she is safe nearby, and also for having had an opportunity to release my manly vigor. Tara said that, in case of another attack, we shall have to gather more ingredients for her weapon upon the morrow, and I look forward both to the experience and to relating it to you, dear reader - always provided that we survive it whole and entire.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Life in Plastic Masterlist
Fanfic Masterlist
Episode Two: In which Will falls in love, gets attacked by a huge spider, and is in general terribly manly.
or on tumblr
As time has passed, our situation has grown increasingly less intolerable. The room in which we reside is now wholly clean and free of both dust and animal life (or at least, so I thought until this day, but more of that later). Tara is good company, being a clever conversationalist when she puts her mind to it. There is, however, much to be desired in my present situation.
Despite being grateful for her companionship, I am baffled by the Lady Maclay's resistance to my charms. While perfectly willing to listen to pretty words, she has yet to allow any outright advances on my part. What is more, she seems to find a double entendre distinctly unfunny. This is a grave flaw in any friend or prospective lover, as I myself can think of nothing more amusing than a quip about a man's spear, unless it be a pie to a clown's face (unfortunately, we have no pies). Still, we are grateful for our improved circumstances.
Even our private residence is rather more impressive than was previously the case.
Still, perhaps Tara tires of having no female company, as she was the one to suggest exploring the room anew on the chance that all of this movement had shaken loose any previously unknown company. This I essayed with her most willingly.
The surface upon which our residence lies plays host to several gargoyles, but they have proved to be no more than they appear: rock, which although it has been given a mouth, has no words.
At the next shelf we investigated, Tara insisted upon taking the upper reaches herself with such vehemence that I judged it unwise to argue with her. She is rarely so unyielding, but I have long found that such women are most to be feared when their ire is roused. I shall find her out eventually; for now, I allow her to play her games. For my part, I encountered several wondrous small buildings (one of which seemed passing familiar, although I cannot think why) and a fearsome likeness of a cat, but again nothing living.
Tara also insisted that we not explore one shelf at all, saying that she knew well enough what was on it, and that things would be easier if I allowed her to relate to me its contents in her own time.
But then, dear reader, upon that same shelf, I did espy a woman who has changed my heart for all of eternity.
True, she is naught but a portrait, but even on paper her eyes have scorched my very soul. She is like unto a fevered dream, something conjured from the depths of desire. I stood stunned before her image for so long a time that the lady Tara joined me and asked if something was the matter.
I asked whether she knew of this woman. Tara answered that she did not, not having seen this picture before. I bemoaned that I should not know her name, and Tara, sounding a great deal more amused than she had by my witty jests, proposed that it might be Morgan le Fay, given that this was written under the hem of her dress and plain to see. I replied stiffly that I had not been looking at the hem of her dress, and Tara said, "I'll bet."
In order to keep the peace (women being jealous creatures), I proposed that we continue, to which suggestion she agreed with good will. The following shelf yielded several likely-looking figures, but again we were disappointed in our hopes for sentient company.
It was during our last act of exploration that we found life, although unfortunately it was of a most despicable kind. We were resting our legs and admiring some portraiture when, to my horror, I saw behind Tara, creeping toward her with pincers agape, a most huge and loathsome insect.
Naturally, I did as was my duty in the face of danger and defended the lady, although a lesser man might have quailed in my position. Seizing the nearest likely weapon, I set to beating the monstrous creature back.
Through furious battle I convinced the beast to turn tail in the face of my wrath, whereupon I dropped the spear and turned to ask after Tara's wellbeing. She had in the meantime taken up a strange cup nearby and filled it with something which shimmered just from the corner of my eye, and which I was sure she had not had moments before. "Throw this at it!" she exclaimed, and I gave chase to do so.
The result was gruesome to behold: the spider seemed to melt, skin eaten away so that the room stank with the oily, slick smell of burnt flesh for the rest of the night.
In view of this circumstance, I did not feel well in myself until I had convinced Tara to aid me in one last endeavor before we retired.
I shall sleep the better for knowing that she is safe nearby, and also for having had an opportunity to release my manly vigor. Tara said that, in case of another attack, we shall have to gather more ingredients for her weapon upon the morrow, and I look forward both to the experience and to relating it to you, dear reader - always provided that we survive it whole and entire.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Life in Plastic Masterlist
Fanfic Masterlist