(Untitled)

Jul 29, 2010 05:23

Sam Vimes had just wanted a walk.

A real walk, at that turning point between late night and early morning, when all the heat and most of the light had fled and anybody awake was automatically a suspicious figure. A real walk in real boots. He'd found a pair recently that were perfect, just the right size with soles so thin he'd probably have to ( Read more... )

*discworld, *eddings, *mythology, *deities, } agora

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Comments 47

errantknights July 29 2010, 10:52:28 UTC

Martel doesn't look like a wizard.

He looks all sorts of things - a competent warrior, a charismatic swine, a well-dressed nobleman, openly armed - but he doesn't look much like a wizard. No, even if the sword weren't a dead give away, he's far too fit, and too world-weary in the way of someone whose mind actually does generally occupy the world he's standing in as opposed to one seven dimensions away and full of cheese.

Right now, he looks like someone who has done this a few times before.

"New," he surmises, glancing behind Vimes as well; had there been a door? It doesn't look it, but it doesn't always.

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badge_177 July 29 2010, 11:04:34 UTC
Vimes turned towards the voice, glaring. A nob, it looks like, but one who carries himself like knows how to use the sword he's wearing. One of the smart ones, then. That's either good news, or really, really bad news. Probably the second one.

Still, the man is more familiar than anything else here. "New?" Vimes' tone is flat and cold.

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errantknights July 29 2010, 11:11:48 UTC

Probably.

"To the nexus- Xanadu, I beg your pardon." He's still not used to the more organized approach that the place has decided to take; it's odd, but in an interesting sort of a way that he finds more or less tolerable. Martel doesn't dislike the nexus, most of the time, but it's given him some really spectacular headaches over the past couple of years.

Vimes is then on the receiving end of a measuring look, on the end of which he says, "It's not a dream, you're not dead, and it's vastly unlikely that you're trapped here."

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badge_177 July 29 2010, 12:21:03 UTC
So either Vimes is still sane, or he's really snapped.

"Only 'unlikely'?" Vimes asks while he surveys the man and his surroundings again, his tone carefully neutral. 'Vastly unlikely' still sounded likely to him.

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at_thy_hearth July 29 2010, 12:42:35 UTC
"Oh, dear," a woman says. "Lost your way again?"

'Again,' as if she knows him. She doesn't personally, but as is the way of the divine, they like to think they know everyone so intimately, even when the poor person does not belong to their congregation. Hestia is, clearly, no exception; in fact, she is probably the worse offender there is. (How lucky for dear Samuel.)

None the less, she smiles at him gently, her face partly hidden by a white veil. Her incredibly red hair can't be hidden, though, nor can the warmth of her domain be extinguished. Would you like to listen to Homer? He has rather fantastic metaphors about fire and Her Florid Majesty.

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badge_177 July 29 2010, 12:52:38 UTC
"What?" Vimes snaps. He hadn't lost his way, the damn way had gotten lost.

The voice isn't familiar, nothing that he can see of the woman is. Does that color red ever occur naturally? She seems friendly. Kind, even. But what her words had said 'power.' Power over other people, causally used. He grits his teeth together before forcing something like a smile. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met."

Yeah, he's pissed.

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at_thy_hearth July 29 2010, 13:06:54 UTC
See, this type of reaction just amuses her. Hestia is unrecognizable to many, even those that worship her, and what tickles her fancy about mortal reactions is not bowing at her feet (she appreciates it, though); it's more like a game to her. Who pieces the puzzle together the quickest? Who, at least, makes her laugh the loudest when they do? Who just makes it endlessly fun to dance around during that time?

...Hestia is, essentially, a troll.

"I'm afraid not," she replies. Then, "Amy." Now, she's just making it difficult to pinpoint her power. "And you, sir?" Please, she loves your full name; it makes her giggle.

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badge_177 July 29 2010, 13:31:11 UTC
Vimes is getting the sense he's being toyed with, poked and tested for the sake of someone else's amusement.

He really, really hates that.

"Commander Vimes, ma'am," he says, making the smile less forced and more goofy. Yeah, he's just the big, dumb copper, isn't he? Go on, just try to say that to his face.

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standsbehind August 5 2010, 14:40:32 UTC

A harried young man emerges from a side street nearby, frowning around- when his gaze falls on Vimes, his expression clears momentarily. "Sir?" he calls, in a tone of resigned hopefulness, "Can I bother you a moment, sir?"

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sob, finally. so terribly late. badge_177 August 19 2010, 18:41:37 UTC
That tone. It's the tone of put-upon people everywhere. Vimes sighs, wishing he could ignore it. "What is it?"

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BUT ALWAYS WELCOME standsbehind August 20 2010, 06:45:21 UTC

"I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to hold my ladder still for me, sir; I can't keep it steady and get the little beast down at once." Ewar looks slightly pained at being forced to ask assistance in getting a bloody kitten down from a ledge, as would indeed any man.

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ILU badge_177 August 25 2010, 04:02:08 UTC
Vimes glanced upwards, and then back at the young man with a raised eyebrow. A kitten?

Saving kittens was Carrot's kind of "community-outreach" thing. Though, Vimes recalled with some embarrassment, pretty much everyone in the Watch had been drafted into it at one point. Or three.

He held out a hand. "Sure."

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