Clumsywordsmith

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

And here I thought I'd just learned a groovy new way to spell it.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

The Demonspawn appears so taken off guard by Veti's (well meaning) assault, that for a moment he simply stands in something akin to a state of shock – his head tilts to the side, his mouth opens a hair as though he might speak – and it is the Demoness who saves him the awkwardness of the moment, revealing herself just in time to offer the hapless man a devilish smirk, and then a wink toward Veti before exclaiming with a delighted clap of icy hands:

“Questions, questions – oooh how Nestor loves questions; he may be jealous, you know, that this one is for me?” Here she peers sidelong at her discomfited partner, the corners of her lips quirking diagonally once again; he glares right back in return. “But you have the answer, of course!” She gives a sly grin at this, a mouthful of crystalline fangs gleaning for an instant before her features morph into something more approachable, more human... softer, different, and with it – if only for the space of a few moments – her demeanour as well:

“But I am he and he is me, and together we are one; but all he lacks I stand to gain, and all I am he bears with shame...” Here Nestor, seeming to have regained a little of his composure, gives a brusque wave of dismissal in the direction of the Demoness, offering instead to Veti:

“No, no... but rather imagine for a moment, Mistress Veti – imagine for a moment what might occur, were a man to name first his Soul over Himself. I” – here he gestures pointedly to himself – a useless motion, but apparently he seems caught up in the moment – “ Am Nestor Grimsley; She” – again, this time his right finger, almost accusatory, thrust out toward the bristling Demoness – “Is no one. Nothing. Emptiness. Just as I would be were it to be the other way around.” An ominous – if muted – snarl follows his words, along with the exclamation:

"See, jealous! Nothing indeed... I see how it is, Nestor..." and quite suddenly the Demoness is nowhere to be seen. With her departure, Nestor frowns – seeming troubled for the briefest of moments, before giving a relieved sigh and remarking – almost as though his words of a moment ago had never been spoken at all – “Yet it would do me well, to see the both of you as one again; and don't mind her – Demons have their time of the month too...”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

*Points to his avatar's face*

I always knew he'd be useful for something...

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Mmmm... Women in black and white. Undeniably alluring.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Distraction offered. Attention caught. I had been just upon the verge of working up a few more words to add to the conversation when Atticus' whistle went screaming through the air, scattered my thoughts and left me making a hasty apology and polite nod to the Dryad and Druid before I turned and made my way a little more toward the centre of the circle; words, emotions – the delicacy of the moment flowed around me in a different way, memories brought forth all in an instant as the world morphed and swirled inward.

“Squeeze, Nestor dear... just a little harder...” I growl beneath my breath. Release the tension in my hand. And suddenly find my fingers refusing to move – rather, one by one they tighten their hold. My eyes narrow. My breath holds. A single digit begins the agonizing push toward the cocked hair trigger...

Nestor starts, eyes blinking rapidly several times as he darts a furtive glance to either side. He mouths a few words under his breath – quietly, barely audible even to those standing nearby.

“Stop that!”

“But don't you remember...? Mmm – He was alone, Nestor Dear: no one would have known. A strong soul. A beautiful soul.” There is something disturbing in the way she pronounces the word 'beautiful'; each syllable stressed as though it were a word in and of itself. My vision begins to darken again. I clench both fists, set my jaw – my gaze darts toward Veti, gauging the Werewolf's response: reasonably restrained, in light of the circumstances. Another whisper in my ear:

“The Giant is lucky, don't you think? Considering the moon is in his favour tonight...” I can't help but offer a marginal smirk in response, one swiftly cut short in annoyance as her own chuckling overwhelms my amusement; like the shattering of glass in a quiet room, I scowl into the empty space of air just in front of me until the noise goes silent. And then I look toward Veti again, just in time to see her – no, not her, but me!– remove the mask, speak words I cannot hear but already know far too well.

Nestor passes a hand before his eyes, looks toward Atticus and announces:

“I keep my promises, Atticus – you might doubtless guess the answer before I give it. I will seek with the others for Max.” Though in the brief silence following his words, a quiet remark fills the space where Veti – and those nearest her – might hear.

“I warned you once, Wolf Girl – for his friends it never ends well; history repeats itself many times, lesson never learnt. One eye always opened...” Here the words trail off into an inconspicuous whisper: “...There are always those who keep enemies closer than friends...”

But Nestor falls quiet after this, not seeking to interrupt – brow furrowed and curiosity piqued with the arrival of the being calling herself 'Isis'. Whatever thoughts or opinions he might have on her words, he appears perfectly content to keep to himself at present.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I see I have quite a bit of reading to do. Excellent work people. Busy at the moment, but I'll be in a writing mood Sunday evening for sure.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Damn, son -- you nerd so hard. At the last LAN I attended I had to inform my girlfriend that, no, I wouldn't be entering the Starcraft II tournament... too embarrassed to admit that I sucked too much.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Igraine said
It took me waaaaaaaaaay too long to figure out, if you meant ten to four in the morning or at night, four to twelve the same and... If I'm going to be completely honest *mumbles under breath* Wordsmith, I beg of thee. I'm way too easy to confuse of late, so have mercy! XD

You know, the irony of it is that I actually thought to myself whilst writing the post "I wonder if I'll confuse anyone by this... ahh, to hell with it, lunch break is almost over anyway -- if I don't get these louts moving again soon enough, they're bound to just fall asleep where they sit."

Crack the whip and keep the slaves moving!

Zulu time it is, then. Though I lived in Zulu country for a while, and had to do mental acrobatics just to figure the time. Twenty-two to four best spent writing, four to twelve best spent sleeping, eighteen to twenty-two best spent in the company of a bottle of scotch...

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Morning, afternoon... Wish I could have spent it sleeping. Ten to four is best spent writing. Four to twelve best spent dreaming.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Sorry folks, tried to cut that short for the sake of brevity. But what can I say... this crew gets me eager to write. I usually try to keep posts shorter.