When the Gods are Mortal IC

[Erodios]

Francis followed the man leading him through this place. The sickly, pale looking man's eyes darted around the building that he was in, he was impressed with it. Still, worry crept within him, would this novel be accepted? That was sometging that he had to know.

The door was opened and Francis came face to face with the man decising his future, a Mr. Lamont.... Francis smiled. Perhaps he could convinse him otherwise if he did choose not to accept the book. Francis held out his hand to Alexander. "Hello good sir, My name is Francis Miedo, I am here to show you a novel I have been working on." the rather frightening looking man spoke. Francis was a sight that had a frightening look to him. His filthy black ahir and piercing blue eyes, all on that corpse pale face of his. And the clothes...they certainly didn't help.

[SilverRain]

Alexander turned to face Francis and froze for a moment as he came face to face with the... dishevelled man introducing himself. Alexander shook his hand firmly, but it was just out of coutesy more than anything else. There was a slight pause as Alexander went over his thoughts.

His first thought was to simply reject the man. He didn't have the air of an author around him. He didn't even know the common protocol of at least dressing up before an important meeting. He was atrocious, hideous. If the company ever held a book sighing event, it would lead to a horrified audience, book sales would drop, the company's image would be destroyed and the share price would plummet. This was not a freak show. The signs of rejection could be seen in Alexander's eyes and he was about to say something before a stray thought hit him...

Dreams. Everyone had them. Even the slaves in 3rd world countries, even the beggars on the road, a country bumpkin, a person in a coma, even criminals and serial killers. Dreams existed as a form of hope for a world seeked. There were no limits. The more common dreams were for riches, fame, love, power. But there were other dreams too... to be able to walk again, to see a person who once died. Everyone had a right to dream. And it was Alexander's company - DREAMWEAVER, which sought to bring those dreams to life in the minds of others. Maybe there would be something different with this... writer.

Francis Miedo had enough guts and determination to appear in the office, even though he was not of the right material, so he must have been pretty determined. Everyone deserved a chance and if they failed, then it was justified. Alexander walked to an empty space in front of a large sofa set and coffee table. He did not believe in the explaining of stories over a boring desk. Alexander looked towards Francis.

"Tell me your story. There is no time limit. Captivate me"

[Erodios]

Francis saw the look in Alexander's eyes, and in that moment he knew that he h make this count. He knew that he had to make this worth taking the time to have step forth and put himself out there and share his brainchild. "Excellent, I assure that you will enjoy it." he said as he began his explanation.

"The fear of the unknown, that is the greatest fear that anyone could experience. Time and time again throughout the course of history, man kind has proven this little fact. They destroy anything that is of unnaturality to them. That little theme is were my story begins, in a little town in southern Greece. Things begin to happen, and they are harmless enough at first, just some lights and odd sights. But soon psychology takes over, and the little town collapses in panic." Francis told him. It was a simplification of his story, so he would need to read him a section of the book to actually give him the full tone of his story.

The fifth chapter would be more than enough, so he reached back into his grungy bag and pulled out the manuscript. With a quick clearing of his throat, he began to read the first part of the major plot of the story, how their own fear turns a once quiet and loving community against itself. How even a slight abnormality turned this place into an absolute hell. He made great use of his words to convey the suffering of the people, and expressed their fear in a way that could make even the hardest of hardened men shake in fear themselves. He brought forth the collapsing, fear torn city in a way that made is so clear to the reader.

As he finished the chapter, Francis wondered what Alexander would think of this work. He seemed put off by him earlier, but he was certain that his story would make the deal. He wondered if the book had caused too much of a shock...

[yesterday]

Aimee was caught in a whirlwind for the umpteenth time. Pick up Mr. Lamont's espresso with exactly two lumps of sugar and a teaspoon of creamer at the Starbucks across the street, take Ms. Adam's new article on 'The Absence of Symbolism' to the news wing of the publishing building on the fourth floor, run over to Mr. Oliver's office on the exact opposite end of the building to pick up his prescription and deliver that to the CVS next door, Fax Mr. Barns' memo to his other office in Quincey, and don't forget to bring the coffee to Mr. Lamont on the top floor. At last, she found herself back in the little chrome room, slamming her thumb into button 27 frantically and wishing that there was a 'doors shut' button.
As she watched the distance grow more and more vast on the other side of the glass walls of the elevator, she fixed her deep blue skirt with the uniform red blossom pattern and straightened the collar of her white shirt. With one hand she rearranged her raven black hair into its bun and stuck her grandmother's comb into it tightly, all the while balancing one of her many bosses' drink in the palm of her other hand. She couldn't help thinking about Beatrice Buckley's children who she was supposed to be watching precisely at six until nine and wondering how she was ever going to make the two hour drive home in time for the final episode of Coffee Prince which she had been hanging off the end of her couch cushion watching for about a month now and couldn't possibly miss the ending.
When at last the doors opened she practically already had her stiletto on the landing. She bolted down the silent hallway, nearly bumping into Vice-President Holbert's young secretary who was carrying an enormous stack of papers. "Sorry Steven!" She called back to him as she hurtled toward the door with the golden plaque on it.
She turned the handle and stuck her head in to see if the new President-to-be was in a meeting. "Mr. Lamont? I have your coffee." Without thinking she crossed the threshold and strode across the hardwood floor toward the desk by the window, disregarding the client who was sitting in front of it. As she got nearer, she tripped on the oriental rug and was sent sprawling through the air, the coffee in her hands flew from her grasp, the lid of which was clearly not on tight enough and came off and sent the steaming hot beverage raining down on the client!

[Ayla]

John was glad that Qlint and Cora could come to his party; it was going to be the event of the season. "Man, this party is going to be one of my biggest yet. Oh, by the way, normally, I charge twenty dollars per person to cover the cost of drinks, and snacks and stuff, but just give this to the bouncer, and he'll let you through for free." He handed them a paper that said, "FREE" on it. John was getting super excided for the party. I can't wait until they see the surprise I've got in store for them at the party. He thought. "Oh! I almost forgot. Cora, do you know where I live?"

Cora took the paper and smiled warmly, “Of course I do, I’ve been to your house to drop off your paychecks a few times. I remember the way.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and folded the “FREE” pass up before sticking it into her back pocket. Today was turning out to be a strange day for Cora and she wondered if tonight was going to be any different. “What should I wear John, I’ve never been to one of your parties?” Cora wanted to know how formal the affair was, because if she could help it she would much rather wear jeans than a cocktail dress of anything of the like.

[power of music]

"It's pretty unformal. Whatever your most comfortable in. Jeans and a tee-shirt, skirt and a button up shirt. Whaver you want. But not anything that would make you "appealing" to guys. Some people can get pretty drunk at the parties." John said to Cora.

[Ayla]

She laughed a little. “Look at you, trying to be protective. Trust me John. I’m not going to wear anything provocative. You should have worked with me long enough to know that now.” Cora was glad to know that she didn’t have to wear anything specific. Or uncomfortable. She looked at Qlint and then at John before saying. “Well, I guess I must be off then. It’s a long hike back to my car. I’ll see you two at the party then?”

[power of music]

"Sure thing." John was glad that his two friends had decided to come to his party. Any party can be fun with strangers, but a party with friends? Nothing better. "Well, see you later Qlint," John said walking back toward his car. After about an hour, he got to the car, and later arrived at his house. I've got to start preparing for the party he thought.

[Rumiko]

Esmeralda was working with the lead guitarist and drummer of ISDP (I See Dead People) on a dark version of the old Blondie tune Call Me the latest attemp at pleasing some Rec Exec.
”I still say it need the synth replaced with at least three violins and unless we get them I'm not resurecting that old crude I don't care how much money that smiling bag of snakes says we could make”
Says Esmeralda fuming more threateningly than Mount St. Helens.
”What do you really want to keep playing small venues?”
Yelled Drakon the lead guitarist glaring at her.
”Guys, please, please, come on. We need to work on this”
Pleaded Ray the drummer
”Ezzy come on you agreed to give this a try, just for once drop the Primadonna act an be a team player”
Says Darkon trying to reign in his bands core.
:::SMACK!::::::!!!!
”Call me Ezzy again and I'l cut your eyes out with my finger nails Toodd (Tod)
Says Ezmeralda before spinning on a heel and stalking out while lighting a cigarette.
”You shouldn't of called her Ezzy Tod you know it sets her off”
Said Ray laughing softly as he twrilled his drumsticks
”My names Darkon, I had it legally changed”
Snapped Darkon
”What ever Tod but she's right if we gotta play this crude violins would give it that ISDP feel”
Said Ray just before he began practicing his drum riff from Back ftom the grave

[RoboticOwlie]

Naomi slammed her file cabinet closed and locked it with a sigh before slipping the key into her bag. She was definitely ready to get this day over with - nothing was going right for her. Naomi was the head lawyer of the branch, and she loved reminding herself of that; it made her head lift a bit higher in pride. However, it also meant she was stuck with most of the work. She was almost always the last one to leave at the end of the day.

As she left her office, she listened to the click-clack of her heels echo through the empty halls. Now to go home, see her beloved cat Cleopatra, go through some late paperwork, and...and well, what? She pressed the button to call the elevator and pouted at her lack of plans. As the doors dinged open, she was still pouting and lost in thought when she heard a snap and suddenly met the shiny floor of the open elevator. Her shoe had caught the gap where the elevator doors slide and snapped off the heel of her favorite pair. She let out a small whine. Stepping in, unbalanced with one shoe, she clung to the broken black heel with the cute buckle on the side and again pitied herself on the horrible day she had experienced and the lifeless night that laid ahead of her.

As she stepped out onto the ground floor, Naomi felt her bag softly vibrate with the promise of a call/text. Putting the shoe beneath her arm, she dug through the bag to pull out her keys and phone. She had a text letting her know that a friend of a friend heard about a party going on later. She preferred parties that way, little to no people she knew personally, hearing about them through a long line of rumors. As she sat down in her car and checked her lipstick in the mirror, she smiled at herself. Perhaps the night was looking up after all.