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sparkindarknessI'm back and with plot no less. This is taking a lot longer than I imagined, i feel like I'm pulling teeth. Wretched uncooperative muses
“What the fuck have I just stepped in?!”
I struggled awake at the horrendous noise that seemed to hammer at my head. I tried to look for the source of the awful racket but my vision was too blurred.
“There’s a fucking pool of rotting flesh in my doorway! ROTTING FLESH?! Ahrimadan!!! Stop leaving bits of people all over the fucking place!”
I groaned and tried to martial my thoughts. I suddenly had an insight into how Rick felt every morning before coffee. “Rick, keep it down and put the coffee on.” I pulled the covers over my head, the morning sun seemed to be utterly excessive. I must make a note if I ever end up in Camaalis’ good books - mornings should be darker.
“There is a squishy dead thing decomposing on my fucking carpet and all you can do is ask for coffee?”
“And for you to lower the volume.” I groaned, trying to burrow deeper. “And only because you don’t keep any whisky in the flat. Anyway, I warned you that a white carpet was a bad idea - you‘ll never get rotten flesh stains out.”
“And you know so much about cleaning up body parts?”
I parted the covers just enough to glare. Well, squint, perhaps. The sun was really obnoxiously bright. “I’ll spare you some nightmares and treat that question as rhetorical. Make coffee. And get yourself something, you’re insufferable in the morning before coffee to wake you up.”
Rick grinned lasciviously and began to glide towards the bed. “There’s other things that wake me up far better...”
I burrowed back under the covers. “Well you’re going to have to settle for coffee. Rotting corpses destroying the soft furnishings completely ruin the mood for me. You’ve stepped in it again, by the way.”
I heard his cursing rumble back towards the kitchen. I needed to get some doors on this place - the open plan style Americans seemed to favour is beginning to annoy me. Strange, really. I’ve been here for such a long time now and I still haven’t fully redecorated. Perhaps a part of me still rebels against the idea of putting down roots.
Or perhaps the soil here isn’t suited to me.
“Sweet coffee, how did our ancestors exist without thee?” Rick crooned happily.
I parted the covers with infinite reluctance. The sun was still a searing lance into my eyes. “You made coffee already?”
“Nah, last night’s pot. New coffee’s brewing. Breakfast?” I heard the fridge open.
“That depends,” I said with all due suspicion. “What is for breakfast?”
“Cold pizza. Pepperoni, I think. Oh, and some of that anchovy muck you like.”
“Anchovies are nice, heathen, but not in the morning.” I corrected. “I don’t suppose I could prevail on you to at least microwave the pizza?”
“Before coffee? No.”
“Throw some bread in the toaster, then.” I growled. Cold anchovies did not a breakfast make.
“It’s not a toaster, it’s a toaster oven.”
I sighed irritably. “And the difference is?”
A lot more money, a lot more complexity and a lot less efficiency.
“Ah, the joys of progress. Good morning, Ghost.” I said.
“Anyway, we’re out of bread.” Rick said after investigating various cupboards. “And milk, so you’ll have to have your coffee black. We have couscous and ready made stuffed vine leaves, though.”
This is why Rick should never do the shopping. I also remembered now why I didn’t usually eat breakfast. Ok, at one point it was because I was too hungover to eat anything but it’s a habit that seems to have stuck with me.
I felt the bed rock as he climbed in next to me. After much cajoling and much proferring of an oversized coffee mug I was persuaded to emerge from the cocoon of blankets I’d managed to make. I accepted the mug and grudgingly took a slice of slightly congealed pizza.
“There should be another rotting corpse in the living room. Or maybe two. I forget.” I mused.
“No rotting corpses, demons, black magic or telemarketers before coffee. You know the house rules.”
“There’s another one in your car.” I added, ignoring him.
“My car was locked. Hey, you found my car keys! I‘ve been using spirits to open it for days!” He gasped around a mouthful of pizza.
“I didn’t. It fell through the roof.” I sipped the coffee, wincing slightly. Rick made his coffee far too strong, but it seemed to be helping.
“Darren, you have ten minutes to tell me that was a fucking bad joke.” He always sounds funny when he tries for menacing.
“Amazingly enough, no. You’d be surprised to find that when under attack by demon-possessed undead that I do not devote too much thought to the condition of your convertible. Which is inappropriate for New York anyway - why drive a convertible in heavy traffic?” I replied calmly, taking a second slice of pizza.
Rick’s sudden questions were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. He glared irritably. “Someone get the door!” He growled.
I heard the door open - it occurred to me that anyone not raised by Camaalis would probably find living with Rick quite unnerving. A few minutes later Liam staggered through looking for us. He looked his standard lascivious self, all heavy eyebrows, black leather, unruly hair and smouldering look, but he definitely looked slightly rumpled. He yawed hugely before he spoke. “So, what are you going to do, Darren?”
Rick looked at me, frowning, neurones finally managing to fire. Coffee works wonders. “You were attacked?”
I gave him a scathing look, backed and mirrored perfectly by Liam. Rick squirmed in the face of double Camaalis glares. “No, Rick.” I said lightly, sarcasm dancing happily in my voice. “I decided to wreck your car, the window and the carpet because I was bored and there was nothing on television.”
“But... none of my wards have tripped...” Rick’s eyes glazed in a way that told me he wasn’t looking at the same world as we were any more. Or that he was drunk. I imagined it was the former.
“Regardless, what are you going to do?” Liam persisted.
“Why don’t you tell me, Seer? You may have more ideas than I do at the moment.” I snapped, irritably. It was early, the coffee wasn’t perfect and my head and body still throbbed painfully.
“Too many variables and too much magic. There’s about a dozen things you could do. If you want me to actually be able to look forwards and see something that might actually HELP you then you might want to cut the attitude and narrow down the field for me.” He snapped back, equally irritated.
I briefly considered reducing him to a puddle of rotten flesh on the carpet - it was already ruined, after all. It seemed rather too much effort, though. Maybe after the coffee kicked in. I sighed and tried to straighten my hair after the ravages of the night. “I’m going to try and find Kyernath. I don’t think I have much choice.”
Liam’s face twisted with doubt. “There’s always a choice... why choose that one? You’re going to take him on? A direct challenge? Sorcerer on Sorcerer?”
Rick blinked and seemed to pull himself briefly back to reality. “I don’t like the sound of that. Is Fox putting you up to this? have you signed a contract with Murdock for exclusive television rights or something?”
I sighed again and continued to untwine the knots in my hair. “Please Rick, I deal with daemons but there are limits.” I slumped. “Think about it, people. Either I find him or I wait here while he throws pot shots at me - he’s already tried twice and neither was fun.”
“So you will oppose him directly?” Liam’s voice was very carefully neutral, stepping delicately on the edge of Camaalis propriety.
“I was going to track him down then consider my options - I think I will see who of Rick’s friends will lend their diverse skills to mine.” I answered, equally carefully.
“You think you can beat this guy one on one?” Rick added, bluntly trampling over our delicate manoeuvrings.
We both treated him to a flaying glare (somewhat wasted since he was still largely looking into the spirit world). I growled an answer to him “I’m not going to fight him, just to investigate. As soon as you tell me how many of your friends are willing to come with us.”
Rick snapped back into reality and frowned. “I don’t know, you’ve freaked them out pretty bad but they’re not going to be happy with another Sorcerer running around either. They’re not going to want to go as extra-cast members to an epic Sorcerer battle either. One way to find out.” He reached for the phone beside his bed and started dialling.
I sipped coffee and started to plan, avoiding Liam’s eyes and all the doubts resting in them.
“What the fuck have I just stepped in?!”
I struggled awake at the horrendous noise that seemed to hammer at my head. I tried to look for the source of the awful racket but my vision was too blurred.
“There’s a fucking pool of rotting flesh in my doorway! ROTTING FLESH?! Ahrimadan!!! Stop leaving bits of people all over the fucking place!”
I groaned and tried to martial my thoughts. I suddenly had an insight into how Rick felt every morning before coffee. “Rick, keep it down and put the coffee on.” I pulled the covers over my head, the morning sun seemed to be utterly excessive. I must make a note if I ever end up in Camaalis’ good books - mornings should be darker.
“There is a squishy dead thing decomposing on my fucking carpet and all you can do is ask for coffee?”
“And for you to lower the volume.” I groaned, trying to burrow deeper. “And only because you don’t keep any whisky in the flat. Anyway, I warned you that a white carpet was a bad idea - you‘ll never get rotten flesh stains out.”
“And you know so much about cleaning up body parts?”
I parted the covers just enough to glare. Well, squint, perhaps. The sun was really obnoxiously bright. “I’ll spare you some nightmares and treat that question as rhetorical. Make coffee. And get yourself something, you’re insufferable in the morning before coffee to wake you up.”
Rick grinned lasciviously and began to glide towards the bed. “There’s other things that wake me up far better...”
I burrowed back under the covers. “Well you’re going to have to settle for coffee. Rotting corpses destroying the soft furnishings completely ruin the mood for me. You’ve stepped in it again, by the way.”
I heard his cursing rumble back towards the kitchen. I needed to get some doors on this place - the open plan style Americans seemed to favour is beginning to annoy me. Strange, really. I’ve been here for such a long time now and I still haven’t fully redecorated. Perhaps a part of me still rebels against the idea of putting down roots.
Or perhaps the soil here isn’t suited to me.
“Sweet coffee, how did our ancestors exist without thee?” Rick crooned happily.
I parted the covers with infinite reluctance. The sun was still a searing lance into my eyes. “You made coffee already?”
“Nah, last night’s pot. New coffee’s brewing. Breakfast?” I heard the fridge open.
“That depends,” I said with all due suspicion. “What is for breakfast?”
“Cold pizza. Pepperoni, I think. Oh, and some of that anchovy muck you like.”
“Anchovies are nice, heathen, but not in the morning.” I corrected. “I don’t suppose I could prevail on you to at least microwave the pizza?”
“Before coffee? No.”
“Throw some bread in the toaster, then.” I growled. Cold anchovies did not a breakfast make.
“It’s not a toaster, it’s a toaster oven.”
I sighed irritably. “And the difference is?”
A lot more money, a lot more complexity and a lot less efficiency.
“Ah, the joys of progress. Good morning, Ghost.” I said.
“Anyway, we’re out of bread.” Rick said after investigating various cupboards. “And milk, so you’ll have to have your coffee black. We have couscous and ready made stuffed vine leaves, though.”
This is why Rick should never do the shopping. I also remembered now why I didn’t usually eat breakfast. Ok, at one point it was because I was too hungover to eat anything but it’s a habit that seems to have stuck with me.
I felt the bed rock as he climbed in next to me. After much cajoling and much proferring of an oversized coffee mug I was persuaded to emerge from the cocoon of blankets I’d managed to make. I accepted the mug and grudgingly took a slice of slightly congealed pizza.
“There should be another rotting corpse in the living room. Or maybe two. I forget.” I mused.
“No rotting corpses, demons, black magic or telemarketers before coffee. You know the house rules.”
“There’s another one in your car.” I added, ignoring him.
“My car was locked. Hey, you found my car keys! I‘ve been using spirits to open it for days!” He gasped around a mouthful of pizza.
“I didn’t. It fell through the roof.” I sipped the coffee, wincing slightly. Rick made his coffee far too strong, but it seemed to be helping.
“Darren, you have ten minutes to tell me that was a fucking bad joke.” He always sounds funny when he tries for menacing.
“Amazingly enough, no. You’d be surprised to find that when under attack by demon-possessed undead that I do not devote too much thought to the condition of your convertible. Which is inappropriate for New York anyway - why drive a convertible in heavy traffic?” I replied calmly, taking a second slice of pizza.
Rick’s sudden questions were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. He glared irritably. “Someone get the door!” He growled.
I heard the door open - it occurred to me that anyone not raised by Camaalis would probably find living with Rick quite unnerving. A few minutes later Liam staggered through looking for us. He looked his standard lascivious self, all heavy eyebrows, black leather, unruly hair and smouldering look, but he definitely looked slightly rumpled. He yawed hugely before he spoke. “So, what are you going to do, Darren?”
Rick looked at me, frowning, neurones finally managing to fire. Coffee works wonders. “You were attacked?”
I gave him a scathing look, backed and mirrored perfectly by Liam. Rick squirmed in the face of double Camaalis glares. “No, Rick.” I said lightly, sarcasm dancing happily in my voice. “I decided to wreck your car, the window and the carpet because I was bored and there was nothing on television.”
“But... none of my wards have tripped...” Rick’s eyes glazed in a way that told me he wasn’t looking at the same world as we were any more. Or that he was drunk. I imagined it was the former.
“Regardless, what are you going to do?” Liam persisted.
“Why don’t you tell me, Seer? You may have more ideas than I do at the moment.” I snapped, irritably. It was early, the coffee wasn’t perfect and my head and body still throbbed painfully.
“Too many variables and too much magic. There’s about a dozen things you could do. If you want me to actually be able to look forwards and see something that might actually HELP you then you might want to cut the attitude and narrow down the field for me.” He snapped back, equally irritated.
I briefly considered reducing him to a puddle of rotten flesh on the carpet - it was already ruined, after all. It seemed rather too much effort, though. Maybe after the coffee kicked in. I sighed and tried to straighten my hair after the ravages of the night. “I’m going to try and find Kyernath. I don’t think I have much choice.”
Liam’s face twisted with doubt. “There’s always a choice... why choose that one? You’re going to take him on? A direct challenge? Sorcerer on Sorcerer?”
Rick blinked and seemed to pull himself briefly back to reality. “I don’t like the sound of that. Is Fox putting you up to this? have you signed a contract with Murdock for exclusive television rights or something?”
I sighed again and continued to untwine the knots in my hair. “Please Rick, I deal with daemons but there are limits.” I slumped. “Think about it, people. Either I find him or I wait here while he throws pot shots at me - he’s already tried twice and neither was fun.”
“So you will oppose him directly?” Liam’s voice was very carefully neutral, stepping delicately on the edge of Camaalis propriety.
“I was going to track him down then consider my options - I think I will see who of Rick’s friends will lend their diverse skills to mine.” I answered, equally carefully.
“You think you can beat this guy one on one?” Rick added, bluntly trampling over our delicate manoeuvrings.
We both treated him to a flaying glare (somewhat wasted since he was still largely looking into the spirit world). I growled an answer to him “I’m not going to fight him, just to investigate. As soon as you tell me how many of your friends are willing to come with us.”
Rick snapped back into reality and frowned. “I don’t know, you’ve freaked them out pretty bad but they’re not going to be happy with another Sorcerer running around either. They’re not going to want to go as extra-cast members to an epic Sorcerer battle either. One way to find out.” He reached for the phone beside his bed and started dialling.
I sipped coffee and started to plan, avoiding Liam’s eyes and all the doubts resting in them.