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sparkindarknessOh
This was supposed to be a nice, easy story.
It was supposed to be a simple look into the daily lives of the vassal families.
I smell epicness. It can stop this right now. We will not have any more of the epicness. I have too much epicness already. No drama. And most certianly NO ANGST
Are you eharing me story?! *prods*
It was pretty depressing really, watching grown men behave like children. It was even more depressing when you realised that these men were supposed to be politicians and businessmen of some standing. I bet they don’t list “prone to childish tantrums” on their CV or to their constituents. Then again, I’m pretty certain most constituents around the country expect the odd childish tantrum from government.
Damn it, it should have worked. The local council was in a complete and utter steaming fury about the land grab, that was to be expected. I didn’t even blame them for it, it must be pretty bloody annoying to work for years at something, fighting every step of the way then having someone take the finish product and use it for themselves.
But we’d patched it up. I contacted a landscaping company about turning the wasteland around the wind farms into a new wild garden and park for the local residences and had it paid for by a variety of local charities – they should be able to pick up plenty of support from the local people with that. I even managed to pull them some extra funding from central government so they won’t have to put up their council tax this year – that’s going to get them some severe kudos. I even got central government to pick up the tab to pay a law firm (my law firm, as it happens) to do the full investigation and legal battle over a new site for the incinerator AND I completely abused and misused my magic to dissuade opposition on that site.
So what is their problem? Why do they want THIS piece of land? Gods, how can people be such children?!
Of course it could be, as a little bird tells me (well, as my new reporter friend tells me now having full access to the British Post’s resources and networks) that there seems to be a nice company that would love to dispose of toxic waste and was very interested in the site. Of course, the council had assured everyone that they would never be disposing of toxic waste – but after the incinerator had been built how likely were people to notice? Ok, my bad, I really should have spoken to the council members and felt them out for any lies or deception. Damn, are there no honest people left in the world? I’ll just leave it out of my report to my grandfather. What? Like one more act of dishonesty is really going to make a difference.
The problem is what to do now. I looked down from my little perch on a rise at the construction site. Three senior members of the council were now arguing over some schematics with some official from central government and his architect. Or possibly foreman. Did you still have architects around once the scaffolding had gone up? Either way, they were having a blazing row. The Councillors had arrived screaming, they hadn’t even paused to put on hard hats. By arranging all this landscaping and new site and everything I had probably secured this bitchy, pissed off council an easy win at the next election. Great. Just great. Maybe I could try and severely screw things up? That would be pretty hard to do without us getting in trouble now. Even better. Bloody brilliant in fact.
I sat brooding about how I was going to report this to Grandfather. Maybe I could just go straight to Camaalis? The Crowley family was one of the more influential vassal families, they may listen to me. Then again, Camaalis is really impatient with people who screw up. Doubly so when we bother them with our own little internal squabbles. Grandfather would skin me alive, and the rest of the family with him, if we ever did anything to reduce our standing with Camaalis. On the plus side it’s not like it really matters, it’s just going to look pretty bad for me – and wouldn’t grandfather love that.
It was then, at that low point that it happened. From the top of the tallest scaffolding a long metal bar (presumably part of the structure still to be built) came loose somehow and fell. But it fell oddly. It didn’t fall straight down, it fell as if a huge hand was pushing it, like it was caught in a tiny hurricane. It rocketed across the site and fell among the squabbling men who didn’t see it until it was too late.
My hands flew to my mouth in shock as it scythed between them. The architect’s helmet was shattered, but at least he staggered groggily to his feet next to the central government official. All the councillors remained down on the ground. Even from this distance I could see blood. Lots of blood. Dear gods… My hands fumbled my mobile from my pocket and I swore at it as I tried to get a good enough signal in the middle of bloody nowhere to try and call for an ambulance.
“Work place accidents are so tragic. Health and safety should be more careful.” A voice mused behind me, sounding more amused than shocked.
The phone fell from my suddenly clumsy hands as I recognised the voice. I turned woodenly to face Michael. It had been years but I could still recognise him – a couple of inches taller than me, the same medium brown hair and the same light hazel eyes. The same wiry build. He still looked a lot like me, really.
“I thought you were dead.” It was clichéd but I had to say it, they were the first words that came to mind.
“And you sound so disappointed to learn that that’s not the case.” He quipped, giving me his merry, slightly silly grin. “You look good, Becca, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”
It all felt faintly unreal, the panicking below us, the memory of the blood, his smile… all like some kind of weird dream. “I went to law school, passed my exams. I’m a barrister now. What’ve you been doing?” I answered by rote. Just some social chit chat and catching up while people bled to death beneath you.
“Good for you! You always did have the brains.” He smiled, it seemed so genuine. “I’ve just been building on our old studies. Some old friends of mine took me to some really interesting places. I picked up a whole load of new things.” His fingers twitched back the end of his sleeve revealing the twists of a tattoo. I couldn’t see most of it. I didn’t need to, I had a good idea. I felt myself turn pale.
“I don’t do that stuff anymore.” I breathed, no more than a whisper.
He sighed. “I know.” He sounded sad, really sad. How could he possibly be sad about it?!
“You did it, didn’t you?” I gasped out. He looked at me quizzically, as if he didn’t understand. I nearly slapped him. “THAT!” I screamed, pointing angrily at the scene below. “That bar didn’t fall naturally, the wind pushed it.”
He shrugged. He didn’t even try and deny it. “We do what we have to, Becca. You know that.”
“Oh gods, Mike, what happened to you? Why didn’t you get out when you still could?” I cried.
“We couldn’t both leave, sister.” He whispered, sadly. He took a step back while I was still trying to figure that out and he suddenly faded away into nothing. I gaped and stood staring blankly at the spot where he had been before I realised he had stepped into the Ley Line.
Woodenly I picked up my phone and stumbled back to my car. My brother was alive.
It wasn’t a happy thought.
This was supposed to be a nice, easy story.
It was supposed to be a simple look into the daily lives of the vassal families.
I smell epicness. It can stop this right now. We will not have any more of the epicness. I have too much epicness already. No drama. And most certianly NO ANGST
Are you eharing me story?! *prods*
It was pretty depressing really, watching grown men behave like children. It was even more depressing when you realised that these men were supposed to be politicians and businessmen of some standing. I bet they don’t list “prone to childish tantrums” on their CV or to their constituents. Then again, I’m pretty certain most constituents around the country expect the odd childish tantrum from government.
Damn it, it should have worked. The local council was in a complete and utter steaming fury about the land grab, that was to be expected. I didn’t even blame them for it, it must be pretty bloody annoying to work for years at something, fighting every step of the way then having someone take the finish product and use it for themselves.
But we’d patched it up. I contacted a landscaping company about turning the wasteland around the wind farms into a new wild garden and park for the local residences and had it paid for by a variety of local charities – they should be able to pick up plenty of support from the local people with that. I even managed to pull them some extra funding from central government so they won’t have to put up their council tax this year – that’s going to get them some severe kudos. I even got central government to pick up the tab to pay a law firm (my law firm, as it happens) to do the full investigation and legal battle over a new site for the incinerator AND I completely abused and misused my magic to dissuade opposition on that site.
So what is their problem? Why do they want THIS piece of land? Gods, how can people be such children?!
Of course it could be, as a little bird tells me (well, as my new reporter friend tells me now having full access to the British Post’s resources and networks) that there seems to be a nice company that would love to dispose of toxic waste and was very interested in the site. Of course, the council had assured everyone that they would never be disposing of toxic waste – but after the incinerator had been built how likely were people to notice? Ok, my bad, I really should have spoken to the council members and felt them out for any lies or deception. Damn, are there no honest people left in the world? I’ll just leave it out of my report to my grandfather. What? Like one more act of dishonesty is really going to make a difference.
The problem is what to do now. I looked down from my little perch on a rise at the construction site. Three senior members of the council were now arguing over some schematics with some official from central government and his architect. Or possibly foreman. Did you still have architects around once the scaffolding had gone up? Either way, they were having a blazing row. The Councillors had arrived screaming, they hadn’t even paused to put on hard hats. By arranging all this landscaping and new site and everything I had probably secured this bitchy, pissed off council an easy win at the next election. Great. Just great. Maybe I could try and severely screw things up? That would be pretty hard to do without us getting in trouble now. Even better. Bloody brilliant in fact.
I sat brooding about how I was going to report this to Grandfather. Maybe I could just go straight to Camaalis? The Crowley family was one of the more influential vassal families, they may listen to me. Then again, Camaalis is really impatient with people who screw up. Doubly so when we bother them with our own little internal squabbles. Grandfather would skin me alive, and the rest of the family with him, if we ever did anything to reduce our standing with Camaalis. On the plus side it’s not like it really matters, it’s just going to look pretty bad for me – and wouldn’t grandfather love that.
It was then, at that low point that it happened. From the top of the tallest scaffolding a long metal bar (presumably part of the structure still to be built) came loose somehow and fell. But it fell oddly. It didn’t fall straight down, it fell as if a huge hand was pushing it, like it was caught in a tiny hurricane. It rocketed across the site and fell among the squabbling men who didn’t see it until it was too late.
My hands flew to my mouth in shock as it scythed between them. The architect’s helmet was shattered, but at least he staggered groggily to his feet next to the central government official. All the councillors remained down on the ground. Even from this distance I could see blood. Lots of blood. Dear gods… My hands fumbled my mobile from my pocket and I swore at it as I tried to get a good enough signal in the middle of bloody nowhere to try and call for an ambulance.
“Work place accidents are so tragic. Health and safety should be more careful.” A voice mused behind me, sounding more amused than shocked.
The phone fell from my suddenly clumsy hands as I recognised the voice. I turned woodenly to face Michael. It had been years but I could still recognise him – a couple of inches taller than me, the same medium brown hair and the same light hazel eyes. The same wiry build. He still looked a lot like me, really.
“I thought you were dead.” It was clichéd but I had to say it, they were the first words that came to mind.
“And you sound so disappointed to learn that that’s not the case.” He quipped, giving me his merry, slightly silly grin. “You look good, Becca, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”
It all felt faintly unreal, the panicking below us, the memory of the blood, his smile… all like some kind of weird dream. “I went to law school, passed my exams. I’m a barrister now. What’ve you been doing?” I answered by rote. Just some social chit chat and catching up while people bled to death beneath you.
“Good for you! You always did have the brains.” He smiled, it seemed so genuine. “I’ve just been building on our old studies. Some old friends of mine took me to some really interesting places. I picked up a whole load of new things.” His fingers twitched back the end of his sleeve revealing the twists of a tattoo. I couldn’t see most of it. I didn’t need to, I had a good idea. I felt myself turn pale.
“I don’t do that stuff anymore.” I breathed, no more than a whisper.
He sighed. “I know.” He sounded sad, really sad. How could he possibly be sad about it?!
“You did it, didn’t you?” I gasped out. He looked at me quizzically, as if he didn’t understand. I nearly slapped him. “THAT!” I screamed, pointing angrily at the scene below. “That bar didn’t fall naturally, the wind pushed it.”
He shrugged. He didn’t even try and deny it. “We do what we have to, Becca. You know that.”
“Oh gods, Mike, what happened to you? Why didn’t you get out when you still could?” I cried.
“We couldn’t both leave, sister.” He whispered, sadly. He took a step back while I was still trying to figure that out and he suddenly faded away into nothing. I gaped and stood staring blankly at the spot where he had been before I realised he had stepped into the Ley Line.
Woodenly I picked up my phone and stumbled back to my car. My brother was alive.
It wasn’t a happy thought.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-15 06:35 pm (UTC)nope, epic-ness will not be encouraged
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-15 08:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-16 11:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-16 09:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-21 01:04 pm (UTC)