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17 months OOM
Summer ( Read more... ) -
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Just like last month and the month before that, in fact for the best part of a year now, Gil trips silently from the bar early in the morning and runs down to the lake with the long fluid stride of a faun ( Read more... ) -
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For the past year and a half Gil had observed this little ritual scrupulously. He always picked a time when he was sure of being alone - today Suti was still deeply asleep and even the sun was still in bed - and positive that he would be unobserved ( Read more... ) -
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It's the usual controlled mayhem in the kitchen. To an outsider the dashing of cook-rats, the squeaks of the wait-rats, the clash of pans, the bubbling of pots and the flash and clatter of knives might look like chaos but to those in the know everything is under control ( Read more... ) -
OOM - in the kitchen
Dinner times were always bedlam in the kitchen. Everyone was used to that and expected it. The rats scampered, the pitbosses - Ratty for the cooks and Everard for the waitrats - squeaked and waved their paws and ensured everything ran smoothly. And it did. To an outside observer it may have looked like chaos but to those used to the manic quality ( Read more... ) -
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Asar-Suti comes into the kitchen, his face positively pale lavender with shock, clutching something that looks suspiciously like a page from a newspaper. "Gil!" he calls, looking about with something like desperation ( Read more... ) -
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Down at the edge of the forest, Gil practices his spells and charms. Finely tuned destruction a leaf at a time. No big bangs today.
It hurts as the leaves shrivel and die, crumple to dust or burst into flames. But he is only using dead ones to practice with.
Gods help any demon bunny that tries to pounce today. -
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The problem with having a skill of very limited use is that it soon atrophies if not used regularly. Being a dutiful faun, if no longer actually honour bound to practice, Gil feels he ought to practice his ( Read more... ) -
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They were at his heels again, as usual at this time of evening. Braying laughter and beer-smelling breath. Still there was no help for it. His way home took him past the Warlock's Rest and if he was stupid enough to work until closing time, what could he expect.
"We know what you are, Whimple," one of them said. "Go on - show us yer tail."
I know ( Read more... ) -
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Gil has been baking for most of the day. He has made cookies and jam tarts and several swiss rolls and brownies that just melt in the mouth but these were just because the ovens were hot and he was in the mood. No, the real baking was a cake and not just any cake but a wedding cake and not just any wedding cake but the wedding cake for dear Tonks ( Read more... )