Downtime snippets
Oct. 2nd, 2007 04:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
castorlion.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsDear Diary,
Today was a good day, I think – no one died, we fought side by side against the werewolves again without too much overspill (although I do regret the redcaps), I got to use my models and make things that actually helped, and that bastard demon is finally dead.
And yet… it doesn’t help like I thought it would.
As the setting sun turned everything in the room scarlet, the man sitting alone stared down at a silver bracelet, turning it over and over in his hands, watching as the last gasp of the day’s sunlight turned it bloody, before picking up the diary and pen to continue writing, in a slanty messy hand.
Court tonight was so odd – for a start, most folks were off prepping for conclave, either that or finding a hole to hide themselves good and deep. Taught Kansas to play Rummie, which was fun. Also got to watch Kindred politics in action – it was well spun, but just how much of that bull do they expect us to buy? I’m irritated that the Prince is overseas at the moment; I could really do with talking to him about the Plan. Mind you, I still might be able to achieve something in the meantime.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, the somewhat heavy-set guy got up from the chair where he’d been sitting typing on his laptop. Shrugging on a leather jacket, he crossed the room in three strides and pulled open the door.
“Em? Can you get hold of George at Paddington and tell him I need a ticket to Reading?”
As a thought occurred to him, he turned back to the desk to finish what he’d been typing.
That’s twice I’ve been left holding the caern now – I wonder if I’m going to end up Warder? I’m not sure it’s the best use of my talents, on the whole, but if it needs doing then it needs doing properly – and honestly, I’d really like to feel included in something. Can’t do it right now though – I’m heading home, carrying a heavy burden as I go. I never thought I’d have to do this. Stupid man was worse fifty times anything else.
This man looked as if he had something of a genetic predisposition towards shagginess. It also, however, looked as if the man had spent quite some time in a personal grooming routine precisely in order to remove all traces of that fact. He was holding, oddly enough, a candle to supplement the fading twilight. He was staring down at the table, at a square of black velvet that had been carefully brushed clean. Lying precisely in the centre of the material was a sword, engraved and emblazoned with odd designs, almost like someone had stuck their fingers into the hot metal and made a grasping gesture with both hands.
The blade didn’t reflect the candlelight nearly as much as it should have.
I continue to question quite what I’m doing in this foolish city, what my place in this diocese is. I dislike playing the clown, yet that is the role that appears to suit in this case. A cruel jest, rightly fitted to a cruel world. At least I am not alone – soon our pack will expand, not that I wish to replace any of the others. Except possibly Loki, who I have yet to my frustration to get a proper grip on. Still, with the death of Pavel, Loki has lost his major opponent – Christian Benedict has yet to encounter him. And the death of Pavel has been beneficial for Akane – he has lost the major source of suspicion and distrust. Akane… has lost…
In a richly appointed house what looked vaguely like a man looked up, alabaster features creasing in a frown, before a brief moment of loss and pain flitted across them, and was rapidly chased away by pure, near-blind fury. And shortly after that the house was not so richly appointed as it previously was.
Date/time index 01100712:00
Processing Geographical data has uncovered 23,067 locations within the Greater London area which contain both a biological plant that is larger than a shrub and a moving body of water sufficiently large that it could be defined as a ‘river’. Subsequent filtering by distance has revealed the most appropriate location for experiment K01.
On a river bank in a small park to the north of London, something that wasn’t sure whether it was a man was sitting, staring fixedly at a willow tree that was overhanging the water. It would blink (with the same amount of time between each blink), and breathe (smoothly and evenly, as befitted non-exertion), but that was the limit of its movement. It appeared not to notice the curtain of dew that had been draped over it, or that the nearest spider had decided it would make a useful support for a web. All it did was sit, and stare.
I still do not understand what I am looking for.
Today was a good day, I think – no one died, we fought side by side against the werewolves again without too much overspill (although I do regret the redcaps), I got to use my models and make things that actually helped, and that bastard demon is finally dead.
And yet… it doesn’t help like I thought it would.
As the setting sun turned everything in the room scarlet, the man sitting alone stared down at a silver bracelet, turning it over and over in his hands, watching as the last gasp of the day’s sunlight turned it bloody, before picking up the diary and pen to continue writing, in a slanty messy hand.
Court tonight was so odd – for a start, most folks were off prepping for conclave, either that or finding a hole to hide themselves good and deep. Taught Kansas to play Rummie, which was fun. Also got to watch Kindred politics in action – it was well spun, but just how much of that bull do they expect us to buy? I’m irritated that the Prince is overseas at the moment; I could really do with talking to him about the Plan. Mind you, I still might be able to achieve something in the meantime.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, the somewhat heavy-set guy got up from the chair where he’d been sitting typing on his laptop. Shrugging on a leather jacket, he crossed the room in three strides and pulled open the door.
“Em? Can you get hold of George at Paddington and tell him I need a ticket to Reading?”
As a thought occurred to him, he turned back to the desk to finish what he’d been typing.
That’s twice I’ve been left holding the caern now – I wonder if I’m going to end up Warder? I’m not sure it’s the best use of my talents, on the whole, but if it needs doing then it needs doing properly – and honestly, I’d really like to feel included in something. Can’t do it right now though – I’m heading home, carrying a heavy burden as I go. I never thought I’d have to do this. Stupid man was worse fifty times anything else.
This man looked as if he had something of a genetic predisposition towards shagginess. It also, however, looked as if the man had spent quite some time in a personal grooming routine precisely in order to remove all traces of that fact. He was holding, oddly enough, a candle to supplement the fading twilight. He was staring down at the table, at a square of black velvet that had been carefully brushed clean. Lying precisely in the centre of the material was a sword, engraved and emblazoned with odd designs, almost like someone had stuck their fingers into the hot metal and made a grasping gesture with both hands.
The blade didn’t reflect the candlelight nearly as much as it should have.
I continue to question quite what I’m doing in this foolish city, what my place in this diocese is. I dislike playing the clown, yet that is the role that appears to suit in this case. A cruel jest, rightly fitted to a cruel world. At least I am not alone – soon our pack will expand, not that I wish to replace any of the others. Except possibly Loki, who I have yet to my frustration to get a proper grip on. Still, with the death of Pavel, Loki has lost his major opponent – Christian Benedict has yet to encounter him. And the death of Pavel has been beneficial for Akane – he has lost the major source of suspicion and distrust. Akane… has lost…
In a richly appointed house what looked vaguely like a man looked up, alabaster features creasing in a frown, before a brief moment of loss and pain flitted across them, and was rapidly chased away by pure, near-blind fury. And shortly after that the house was not so richly appointed as it previously was.
Date/time index 01100712:00
Processing Geographical data has uncovered 23,067 locations within the Greater London area which contain both a biological plant that is larger than a shrub and a moving body of water sufficiently large that it could be defined as a ‘river’. Subsequent filtering by distance has revealed the most appropriate location for experiment K01.
On a river bank in a small park to the north of London, something that wasn’t sure whether it was a man was sitting, staring fixedly at a willow tree that was overhanging the water. It would blink (with the same amount of time between each blink), and breathe (smoothly and evenly, as befitted non-exertion), but that was the limit of its movement. It appeared not to notice the curtain of dew that had been draped over it, or that the nearest spider had decided it would make a useful support for a web. All it did was sit, and stare.
I still do not understand what I am looking for.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-03 10:09 am (UTC)meeeeep!