![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessAh, my muses are talking again, I have fic and thinsg are coming together. Life is good again.
And Darren's developing a sense of humour - a better one. This is worrisome, I'm sure.
So is Ahrimadan. I have not the words.
I stared. It was almost impossible not to, no matter how rude it was. That being said, I’m not sure I cared how rude I was being to these people. It really was astounding - not unprecedented, certainly, but surprising nonetheless.
“Admiring your handiwork, cousin?” The ghostly voice still managed to carry a full
load of acid.
“If I were a newly initiated member of the Undead, Rhiannon, I’d be more polite to any Necromancers I met.” I snapped back. No, I really wasn’t going to waste any effort on good manners with these people.
“Conscience pricking you, Darren?” I couldn’t tell any emotion or acid from this voice. It was too broken to carry any kind of inflection - just lots of really nauseating bubbling. I swallowed carefully. I was a Sorcerer. Master of the dark and terrible, bringer of corruption, death and suffering.
“My conscience? My conscience bides as well as it ever has,” which is sadly very true. I forced my conscience back down again. I have no time to wallow in guilt and self-indulgent self-pity. Self-hate is almost as Narcissistic as self-love. “I acted in self-defence, sister. What about you? Many would call your crimes far worse than mine.”
Did I imagine the discomfort on her ruined face? “I did not do this… it was another who acted.”
“You consented, sister, or it wouldn’t have worked. Tell me, now you’re a tainted abomination as well, does mother no longer acknowledge you when you speak?” It was harsh, but amazingly I wasn’t feeling charitable.
“Caoimhe helped in the… process.” Rhiannon’s voice echoed defensively.
“Really? Nice to see her so-vaunted principles have gained… flexibility. Or is it just embarrassing her so much that both her children turned out to be monsters? That must have hit her holiness pretty hard.”
“It was considered to be lesser of two evils. Resurrection - especially such imperfect resurrection was better than leaving their souls to whatever you had planned.” Liam put in, trying to make soothing gestures.
“’What I had planned?’” I raised my eyebrows at him. Resurrection was on of our greatest taboos, after all.
“You are a Necromancer and an Infernalist, Darren. Be fair, I’m sure you can do lots of really unpleasant things to souls if you put your mind to it.”
“I haven’t really thought about it, to be perfectly honest. Torturing the souls of dead relatives is not my idea of fun, Liam.”
“It is mine.” Ahrimadan agilely leaped onto my lap. “Thou must try it, Master Darren. Be assured, it is most pleasing.”
“No, Ahrimadan, I refuse to experiment on souls for pleasure, nor am I inclined to experiment.” The cat managed to look disappointed, an amusing echo to the exaggerated relief on Liam’s face. “However, that may change if we do not find Rick.” Ahrimadan grinned. People say cats do not have facial expressions. They lie. Nothing can grin like a cat. No other creature can stare at you and make you feel so insignificant.
Liam shifted nervously. Even the ruined form of Katherine and Rhiannon’s ghostly shell trembled. “I’ve spoken to Donald, he’s agreed to come here and help.” I wondered vaguely how he managed that - somehow I doubt Camaalis is willing to devote resources to track down an abomination’s boyfriend. “But he says it will be nearly impossible…”
“Let the experiments begin.” Ahrimadan hissed, ending in a deep feline growl.
“Look, we’ll do the best we can!” Liam was beginning to sweat. Just a little. “But he could be anywhere in the spirit world - it’s nearly impossible to See there, nearly impossible to track him if he doesn’t want to be tracked. Donald said your boy’s good at hiding his tracks. If he doesn’t want to be found we’re going to have a hell of a job tracking him. And he uses techno-spirits, so it’s not like we can even interrogate the spirits he used.”
“Donald refuses to deal with techno-spirits - not after he spent a week trying to communicate with a Most Elite spirit of L337 H4x0ring.” Rhiannon added, helpfully.
I glared at them, trying to catch them in a lie. Which was pretty pointless since I pretty much agree with them… they simply may not be able to do it. After all, it’s not like we Camaalis admit to less than utter omnipotence casually or willingly. Doubly so under threat of eternal damnation as Ahrimadan’s furry toy. Impossible… unless…
“What if you had Rick’s spirit guide?” I held hope carefully, like a delicate vase that will break at the slightest pressure.
Liam exchanged glances with his undead cousins. They nodded, cautiously. “Possible. It depends. If he doesn’t want to be found or is still a mess, then the guide might not co-operate. It might want to leave him in peace, at least for a while… But it’s worth a try, I might even convince Donald to speak to it and convince it.”
Darren smiled. The first almost real smile since he had returned from the grave - there was only a hint of evil in it. “We don’t need Donald to talk to it and I’m pretty certain I can get it to co-operate.”
A ludicrously complicated personal organiser combination IPOD thing on the coffee table pinged to life. I picked it up curiously. Across the screen was emblazoned the word “BETS?” in flashing colours.
I grinned a little wider. “Ah, Ghost, I hoped you’d be around. We need to find Rick.”
I know. Question is, does he want to be found? He’s a mess, he’s hurting and he really wants to be left the fuck alone.
“I’m not dead. Let me go to him and he won’t be such a mess.”
Like you’re so good at fixing things, daemon boy. Would you drop someone who’s suffering from a rattlesnake bite back into the snake pit?
“Yes.” Ahrimadan rumbled. “After selling him a cure for the price of his soul.”
You stay out of it, kitty. Though he makes my point. Rick needs to get out of this, go get himself laid a couple of thousand times, go get riotously drunk and party like a mad man - y’know return to his old, normal life before you dropped a war zone on him.
“Surely that is Rick’s choice?” I ignored my own doubts that screamed Ghost was right. Angst later - now is for Rick.
Crap. The man needs three wise men, an aged old crone and a big guy with a stick before he can be trusted to open his own front door or not. Thankfully, he has been blessed with me to make his decisions otherwise we’d have to lock him up as a danger to himself and others.
“I will have your co-operation, Ghost.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to look as menacing as possible. I felt my family pull back. The IPOD giggled. “I mean it, Ghost, you do not know what terrible things I’m willing to do to get Rick back.”
Bring it Sorcerer boy, I’ve faced down spirits of computer viruses, the IRS and children’s television - the world holds no fear for me after I defeated Barney.
“Let it begin, then…” I felt my eyes begin to glow with power. Ahrimadan’s golden gaze shone brightly, his laugh a sure and certain promise of pain beyond measure and torture beyond imagining.
And Darren's developing a sense of humour - a better one. This is worrisome, I'm sure.
So is Ahrimadan. I have not the words.
I stared. It was almost impossible not to, no matter how rude it was. That being said, I’m not sure I cared how rude I was being to these people. It really was astounding - not unprecedented, certainly, but surprising nonetheless.
“Admiring your handiwork, cousin?” The ghostly voice still managed to carry a full
load of acid.
“If I were a newly initiated member of the Undead, Rhiannon, I’d be more polite to any Necromancers I met.” I snapped back. No, I really wasn’t going to waste any effort on good manners with these people.
“Conscience pricking you, Darren?” I couldn’t tell any emotion or acid from this voice. It was too broken to carry any kind of inflection - just lots of really nauseating bubbling. I swallowed carefully. I was a Sorcerer. Master of the dark and terrible, bringer of corruption, death and suffering.
“My conscience? My conscience bides as well as it ever has,” which is sadly very true. I forced my conscience back down again. I have no time to wallow in guilt and self-indulgent self-pity. Self-hate is almost as Narcissistic as self-love. “I acted in self-defence, sister. What about you? Many would call your crimes far worse than mine.”
Did I imagine the discomfort on her ruined face? “I did not do this… it was another who acted.”
“You consented, sister, or it wouldn’t have worked. Tell me, now you’re a tainted abomination as well, does mother no longer acknowledge you when you speak?” It was harsh, but amazingly I wasn’t feeling charitable.
“Caoimhe helped in the… process.” Rhiannon’s voice echoed defensively.
“Really? Nice to see her so-vaunted principles have gained… flexibility. Or is it just embarrassing her so much that both her children turned out to be monsters? That must have hit her holiness pretty hard.”
“It was considered to be lesser of two evils. Resurrection - especially such imperfect resurrection was better than leaving their souls to whatever you had planned.” Liam put in, trying to make soothing gestures.
“’What I had planned?’” I raised my eyebrows at him. Resurrection was on of our greatest taboos, after all.
“You are a Necromancer and an Infernalist, Darren. Be fair, I’m sure you can do lots of really unpleasant things to souls if you put your mind to it.”
“I haven’t really thought about it, to be perfectly honest. Torturing the souls of dead relatives is not my idea of fun, Liam.”
“It is mine.” Ahrimadan agilely leaped onto my lap. “Thou must try it, Master Darren. Be assured, it is most pleasing.”
“No, Ahrimadan, I refuse to experiment on souls for pleasure, nor am I inclined to experiment.” The cat managed to look disappointed, an amusing echo to the exaggerated relief on Liam’s face. “However, that may change if we do not find Rick.” Ahrimadan grinned. People say cats do not have facial expressions. They lie. Nothing can grin like a cat. No other creature can stare at you and make you feel so insignificant.
Liam shifted nervously. Even the ruined form of Katherine and Rhiannon’s ghostly shell trembled. “I’ve spoken to Donald, he’s agreed to come here and help.” I wondered vaguely how he managed that - somehow I doubt Camaalis is willing to devote resources to track down an abomination’s boyfriend. “But he says it will be nearly impossible…”
“Let the experiments begin.” Ahrimadan hissed, ending in a deep feline growl.
“Look, we’ll do the best we can!” Liam was beginning to sweat. Just a little. “But he could be anywhere in the spirit world - it’s nearly impossible to See there, nearly impossible to track him if he doesn’t want to be tracked. Donald said your boy’s good at hiding his tracks. If he doesn’t want to be found we’re going to have a hell of a job tracking him. And he uses techno-spirits, so it’s not like we can even interrogate the spirits he used.”
“Donald refuses to deal with techno-spirits - not after he spent a week trying to communicate with a Most Elite spirit of L337 H4x0ring.” Rhiannon added, helpfully.
I glared at them, trying to catch them in a lie. Which was pretty pointless since I pretty much agree with them… they simply may not be able to do it. After all, it’s not like we Camaalis admit to less than utter omnipotence casually or willingly. Doubly so under threat of eternal damnation as Ahrimadan’s furry toy. Impossible… unless…
“What if you had Rick’s spirit guide?” I held hope carefully, like a delicate vase that will break at the slightest pressure.
Liam exchanged glances with his undead cousins. They nodded, cautiously. “Possible. It depends. If he doesn’t want to be found or is still a mess, then the guide might not co-operate. It might want to leave him in peace, at least for a while… But it’s worth a try, I might even convince Donald to speak to it and convince it.”
Darren smiled. The first almost real smile since he had returned from the grave - there was only a hint of evil in it. “We don’t need Donald to talk to it and I’m pretty certain I can get it to co-operate.”
A ludicrously complicated personal organiser combination IPOD thing on the coffee table pinged to life. I picked it up curiously. Across the screen was emblazoned the word “BETS?” in flashing colours.
I grinned a little wider. “Ah, Ghost, I hoped you’d be around. We need to find Rick.”
I know. Question is, does he want to be found? He’s a mess, he’s hurting and he really wants to be left the fuck alone.
“I’m not dead. Let me go to him and he won’t be such a mess.”
Like you’re so good at fixing things, daemon boy. Would you drop someone who’s suffering from a rattlesnake bite back into the snake pit?
“Yes.” Ahrimadan rumbled. “After selling him a cure for the price of his soul.”
You stay out of it, kitty. Though he makes my point. Rick needs to get out of this, go get himself laid a couple of thousand times, go get riotously drunk and party like a mad man - y’know return to his old, normal life before you dropped a war zone on him.
“Surely that is Rick’s choice?” I ignored my own doubts that screamed Ghost was right. Angst later - now is for Rick.
Crap. The man needs three wise men, an aged old crone and a big guy with a stick before he can be trusted to open his own front door or not. Thankfully, he has been blessed with me to make his decisions otherwise we’d have to lock him up as a danger to himself and others.
“I will have your co-operation, Ghost.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to look as menacing as possible. I felt my family pull back. The IPOD giggled. “I mean it, Ghost, you do not know what terrible things I’m willing to do to get Rick back.”
Bring it Sorcerer boy, I’ve faced down spirits of computer viruses, the IRS and children’s television - the world holds no fear for me after I defeated Barney.
“Let it begin, then…” I felt my eyes begin to glow with power. Ahrimadan’s golden gaze shone brightly, his laugh a sure and certain promise of pain beyond measure and torture beyond imagining.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-29 09:58 pm (UTC)*DEAD* ...i'd back off, honestly. that's really damned impressive. we all fear barney. possibly even more than the irs, because the irs has never once actually bothered us. =p
ahem. that was lovely. poooor darren. but i love the humor...is he merely cracking under the completely inanity, or has rick (ahem) rubbed off on him a bit?
and oh, this is such a disaster in the making. *hides*
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-30 04:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-30 05:40 pm (UTC)Thank you. I think part of it is rick's influence and part is *points* only wearing one set of wards... amazing how it has mellowed him
(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-30 05:42 pm (UTC)that should be in the memories.
Actually I think I may not have made something clear - Rick and co did actually repair his tattoo wards - the most powerful ones - just before Darren had heart surgery with a table leg.
And I suspect he still is very evil... just evil with a goal.