(no subject)
Cinnamon Swirl #15, Finders Keepers and
FotD 7/8/2010 - Sibylline with Hot Fudge and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1261 (after Out in the Open, Two Wrongs, and Apology)
Word Count : 1516
Malt Prompt : (summer challenge) Yes, I want Armageddon. But I want my kind of Armageddon.
Word of the Day : Sibylline - Prophetic; oracular.
So, I've decided these two merit hot fudge (I know, like I need any more hot fudge characters?) And while I haven't posted much of either of them yet I do intend to remedy that, so no sprinkles. I think one of the things that keeps the story fun for me is that everyone has different ideas about this whole prophecy business, and not all of them are right.
“Afternoon, Roul.”
Roul lifted his head from the mountain of papers he was currently sorting on the headmistress’s desk. “My, you’re chipper today? Visitor last night?”
Kinari gave him the disdainful shake of her head he’d come to expect in response to such a question as she swept past. “This morning.” She plucked the top page from one of his precariously leaning stacks and frowned at it for a moment. “Visitors to be exact.”
“Oh, oh, oh?” Futile to hope for anything juicy, he knew, but it was still fun to ask.
She glared at him, silvery brows knitting over eyes nearly as pale. “Not of the sort you are
thinking,” she said, sternly returning the paper to its pile.
“Oh,” said Roul. “Pity.” He made a show of retrieving his pen and returning all his attentions to the monotonous marking off of various forms.
“The Burnoire girls turned up this morning.” The was a heavy pause, as if she were expecting him to leap out of his chair.
“Did they now?” said Roul, not so much as lifting his pen from the line into which he was scribbling her signature.
He figured the rustle of cloth that came next meant the woman had her hands on her hips. “You could at least feign a bit of enthusiasm for something other than debauchery now and then, you know,” she said.
“I could,” he said, “but it requires such an effort.” He dropped the pen and any pretense of working and leaned back in his chair, hands folded behing his head. Yes, she was standing there, hands on her hips, scowling at him like he was some ill-behaved child. He kicked his feet up onto the desk. The heel of one boot caught the top of a stack of papers ad nearly sent it toppling, the other came to rest atop the first. “Besides, why are you so surprised? I told you they would live. The whole affair would have been pointless if we’d offed them in the process.”
“Ah,” said Kinari, and she puffed up now, like it was clear she was a step ahead of him in this. “But you did not tell me the younger would come crawling back with a babe on her breast.”
“The younger-” His feet lost their hold on the desk as he jolted up in his seat.
“Yes.” He was quite sure he’d never seen her look so smug. “Lyssa has a child. Which means that Rune has a child. ‘The seed of the hand that defies death.’ We’re one step closer now.”
He was only half listening. The younger? But it was the elder that was supposed to have the child. Though, of course, there wasn’t anything that said the younger couldn’t also have one, and that would make her nothing of importance, and he would just have to wait, unless…Kinari was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He wet his lips. “I did tell you the destruction at Kalas was the harbinger for the child’s arrival, did I not?”
“Yes, well, it seems you were right.“ She grabbed a chunk off the top of one of the stacks and tapped it into shape as she went on. “Now all we have to do is keep this from Branimir and the alliance-”
He nearly laughed. “I don’t see that being a problem.”
Kinari paused in her straightening to stare at him solemnly over the top of the papers in her hand. “No?”
No, he’s busy chasing the right baby. “No, he’s, well, he’s rather hung up on the notion of it being a boy he’s looking for.”
“Oh, he is, is he?” she said over the rap of another stack of sheets against the desktop. She had a whole corner neatly sorted now.
Roul shook his head and settled back with his feet under the desk as if he might get back to work. “At any rate,” he said, fumbling about for the pen, “Guilford’s the least of your worries. You’ll need to find the gate, and get the child and her mother to it. And you know you can’t have a goddess without a body to host it. And then, then it’s on with your little revolution.”
“Yes, yes.” Her papers joined a pile with a sharp smack. “I’ve been looking for your blasted gateway for years. You needn’t keep reminding me.”
The pen found, he dipped it in the well and carried on with his forgeries of her name. “Ah, but what else am I here for but to point out the obvious?”
“I would appreciate it if you would give me a hint or two as to where the damned thing is.”
“You know I would if I had any, but I’ve never seen it.”
“Wasn’t it once under the palace?” She shifted to the other side of the desk and started suffling papers there
Roul shrugged. “Once.” He shoved a paper her way. “You might want to look at a few of these. Some have been sitting here a month or more.”
She frowned at him a moment as she took the paper, but she had more important things to discuss than his timeliness in handing over paperwork. He’d found that was always the best time to bring up such things. “And you’ve never once…?” She made a sweeping gesture at her temple that sufficed for a sign for having a vision.
He had. In shambles, but she didn’t want to hear that. “Nope.” He shoved another overdue form into her hand.
Kinari shook her head at the new paper and slapped down on top of a stack. “At times I think your visions are completely useless,” she said. “I never told you the child was a girl. You knew that, but you cannot tell me what corner of the earth I should begin to comb in search of this gate of yours.”
Roul laid out his hands in a gesture of helplessness and offered a smile. “What can I say? My mistress is selective in what she would impart to me. And she knows I share it with you. Do you think she truly wishes to see you bring Water or Fire to walk this earth?”
“So tell her she’s the one I would summon.”
“Are you suggesting I lie to the goddess of past and future? The one who writes the prophecies? Who’s privy to my most intimate thoughts? Yes, that sounds like a plan. Wait, I think I hear her laughing now.”
This seemed a good time to hand her a paper even older than the other two. She set it on top of them and started drumming her fingers on the pile.
“Perhaps if your thoughts spent a bit less time being intimate and a bit more pondering the location of the gateway…” Roul laughed. “Three hundred years and you’ve found nothing better to do with yourself.”
“Ah ah,” he said, waggling his pen at her, “three hundred years in the body of, what was I… eighteen, nineteen?” He made a broad sweep of his hand in front of himself. “Anyway, don’t tell me you have found something better.”
Kinari sniffed. Little chance she was answering that. Which was just what kept him baiting her about her love life. He swore one of these days the vein in her forhead was going to pop when he did. “No mind,” she said, stiffly. “I am well accustomed to doing everything myself. There are times I am quite certain you are as useless as your visions.”
Roul eyed the papers tossed about the desk with her name in his hand, all the i’s dotted, t’s crossed, boxes checked. Some a month or more late, if one wanted to get picky, but still, one couldn’t argue he hadn’t done the work. “Yet you keep me.” He tucked the pen back into its well and gave his chair a shove back from the desk. “You know I shall have to remember that when you’re on trial for your part in what happened at Kalas,” he said, rising to his feet.
Kinari went a shade paler than her already alabaster self. “What did you just-”
Roul made a point of ignoring her as he gathered his cloak from the back of the chair. “Who, me?” he addressed the invisible inquisition. “No, no, I’m useless. She did it all herself.”
“Surely you do not mean to imply- Where are you going?”
“Oh,” said Roul, flipping the cloak over his shoulder, “I am sure there is some useless debauchery about that I can amuse myself with, and if not, I’m more than capable of creating my own. You,” he added with a grin, “have a gateway to find.”
“But about the trial-”
He waved off her protest as he made his way for the door. “No one will know you had a hand in it while either of us breathes.” There was that look of the matron about to scold again. “Happy searching,” he called cheerfully over his shoulder as he shrugged into the sleeves.
FotD 7/8/2010 - Sibylline with Hot Fudge and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1261 (after Out in the Open, Two Wrongs, and Apology)
Word Count : 1516
Malt Prompt : (summer challenge) Yes, I want Armageddon. But I want my kind of Armageddon.
Word of the Day : Sibylline - Prophetic; oracular.
So, I've decided these two merit hot fudge (I know, like I need any more hot fudge characters?) And while I haven't posted much of either of them yet I do intend to remedy that, so no sprinkles. I think one of the things that keeps the story fun for me is that everyone has different ideas about this whole prophecy business, and not all of them are right.
“Afternoon, Roul.”
Roul lifted his head from the mountain of papers he was currently sorting on the headmistress’s desk. “My, you’re chipper today? Visitor last night?”
Kinari gave him the disdainful shake of her head he’d come to expect in response to such a question as she swept past. “This morning.” She plucked the top page from one of his precariously leaning stacks and frowned at it for a moment. “Visitors to be exact.”
“Oh, oh, oh?” Futile to hope for anything juicy, he knew, but it was still fun to ask.
She glared at him, silvery brows knitting over eyes nearly as pale. “Not of the sort you are
thinking,” she said, sternly returning the paper to its pile.
“Oh,” said Roul. “Pity.” He made a show of retrieving his pen and returning all his attentions to the monotonous marking off of various forms.
“The Burnoire girls turned up this morning.” The was a heavy pause, as if she were expecting him to leap out of his chair.
“Did they now?” said Roul, not so much as lifting his pen from the line into which he was scribbling her signature.
He figured the rustle of cloth that came next meant the woman had her hands on her hips. “You could at least feign a bit of enthusiasm for something other than debauchery now and then, you know,” she said.
“I could,” he said, “but it requires such an effort.” He dropped the pen and any pretense of working and leaned back in his chair, hands folded behing his head. Yes, she was standing there, hands on her hips, scowling at him like he was some ill-behaved child. He kicked his feet up onto the desk. The heel of one boot caught the top of a stack of papers ad nearly sent it toppling, the other came to rest atop the first. “Besides, why are you so surprised? I told you they would live. The whole affair would have been pointless if we’d offed them in the process.”
“Ah,” said Kinari, and she puffed up now, like it was clear she was a step ahead of him in this. “But you did not tell me the younger would come crawling back with a babe on her breast.”
“The younger-” His feet lost their hold on the desk as he jolted up in his seat.
“Yes.” He was quite sure he’d never seen her look so smug. “Lyssa has a child. Which means that Rune has a child. ‘The seed of the hand that defies death.’ We’re one step closer now.”
He was only half listening. The younger? But it was the elder that was supposed to have the child. Though, of course, there wasn’t anything that said the younger couldn’t also have one, and that would make her nothing of importance, and he would just have to wait, unless…Kinari was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He wet his lips. “I did tell you the destruction at Kalas was the harbinger for the child’s arrival, did I not?”
“Yes, well, it seems you were right.“ She grabbed a chunk off the top of one of the stacks and tapped it into shape as she went on. “Now all we have to do is keep this from Branimir and the alliance-”
He nearly laughed. “I don’t see that being a problem.”
Kinari paused in her straightening to stare at him solemnly over the top of the papers in her hand. “No?”
No, he’s busy chasing the right baby. “No, he’s, well, he’s rather hung up on the notion of it being a boy he’s looking for.”
“Oh, he is, is he?” she said over the rap of another stack of sheets against the desktop. She had a whole corner neatly sorted now.
Roul shook his head and settled back with his feet under the desk as if he might get back to work. “At any rate,” he said, fumbling about for the pen, “Guilford’s the least of your worries. You’ll need to find the gate, and get the child and her mother to it. And you know you can’t have a goddess without a body to host it. And then, then it’s on with your little revolution.”
“Yes, yes.” Her papers joined a pile with a sharp smack. “I’ve been looking for your blasted gateway for years. You needn’t keep reminding me.”
The pen found, he dipped it in the well and carried on with his forgeries of her name. “Ah, but what else am I here for but to point out the obvious?”
“I would appreciate it if you would give me a hint or two as to where the damned thing is.”
“You know I would if I had any, but I’ve never seen it.”
“Wasn’t it once under the palace?” She shifted to the other side of the desk and started suffling papers there
Roul shrugged. “Once.” He shoved a paper her way. “You might want to look at a few of these. Some have been sitting here a month or more.”
She frowned at him a moment as she took the paper, but she had more important things to discuss than his timeliness in handing over paperwork. He’d found that was always the best time to bring up such things. “And you’ve never once…?” She made a sweeping gesture at her temple that sufficed for a sign for having a vision.
He had. In shambles, but she didn’t want to hear that. “Nope.” He shoved another overdue form into her hand.
Kinari shook her head at the new paper and slapped down on top of a stack. “At times I think your visions are completely useless,” she said. “I never told you the child was a girl. You knew that, but you cannot tell me what corner of the earth I should begin to comb in search of this gate of yours.”
Roul laid out his hands in a gesture of helplessness and offered a smile. “What can I say? My mistress is selective in what she would impart to me. And she knows I share it with you. Do you think she truly wishes to see you bring Water or Fire to walk this earth?”
“So tell her she’s the one I would summon.”
“Are you suggesting I lie to the goddess of past and future? The one who writes the prophecies? Who’s privy to my most intimate thoughts? Yes, that sounds like a plan. Wait, I think I hear her laughing now.”
This seemed a good time to hand her a paper even older than the other two. She set it on top of them and started drumming her fingers on the pile.
“Perhaps if your thoughts spent a bit less time being intimate and a bit more pondering the location of the gateway…” Roul laughed. “Three hundred years and you’ve found nothing better to do with yourself.”
“Ah ah,” he said, waggling his pen at her, “three hundred years in the body of, what was I… eighteen, nineteen?” He made a broad sweep of his hand in front of himself. “Anyway, don’t tell me you have found something better.”
Kinari sniffed. Little chance she was answering that. Which was just what kept him baiting her about her love life. He swore one of these days the vein in her forhead was going to pop when he did. “No mind,” she said, stiffly. “I am well accustomed to doing everything myself. There are times I am quite certain you are as useless as your visions.”
Roul eyed the papers tossed about the desk with her name in his hand, all the i’s dotted, t’s crossed, boxes checked. Some a month or more late, if one wanted to get picky, but still, one couldn’t argue he hadn’t done the work. “Yet you keep me.” He tucked the pen back into its well and gave his chair a shove back from the desk. “You know I shall have to remember that when you’re on trial for your part in what happened at Kalas,” he said, rising to his feet.
Kinari went a shade paler than her already alabaster self. “What did you just-”
Roul made a point of ignoring her as he gathered his cloak from the back of the chair. “Who, me?” he addressed the invisible inquisition. “No, no, I’m useless. She did it all herself.”
“Surely you do not mean to imply- Where are you going?”
“Oh,” said Roul, flipping the cloak over his shoulder, “I am sure there is some useless debauchery about that I can amuse myself with, and if not, I’m more than capable of creating my own. You,” he added with a grin, “have a gateway to find.”
“But about the trial-”
He waved off her protest as he made his way for the door. “No one will know you had a hand in it while either of us breathes.” There was that look of the matron about to scold again. “Happy searching,” he called cheerfully over his shoulder as he shrugged into the sleeves.