I had a dream last week that some odd woman told me that she couldn't share her face with me because I wouldn't open my heart. Then I told her that she seemed like a cool enough lady, but I had no idea what on earth she was talking about. Then she went into a corner and cried, and all of our other roommates started yelling at me for being insensitive while I tried to explain that I was just being honest and didn't anything by it.
And the weird thing is that I haven't watched any Real World in almost a year.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Revisionist History: Part 2c
(The final chapter, wherein we actually go back to earlier in the story to see how Edith and Lake socialize and interact. They're really the best of friends, they are. Here in one of the opening stanzas, we get a look into the inner workings of what a clan meeting for the city's Hunter's Guild looks like. Although arguably, you probably wouldn't call this meeting typical...)
“Abernathy.”
“Here.”
“Anderson.”
“Here.”
“Andrews.”
“Present.”
Roll call. Arguably one of the single most annoying periods of time in the history of creation. It begins at childhood, and proceeds to be a nuisance until death. Or at least that’s how some would view it.
“Barnard.”
“Here.”
“Laraby.”
“Yeah, I’m here...”
“Kendricks”
“Here.”
“Montayo.”
“Uh, he’s dead.”
“Really. Cripes, that’s a shame. I already wired his pay for this week. That’s gonna be a pain to get recalled.” Edith Fortunado was always the first to display her own special brand of sympathy. If she remembered, she’d probably use part of the recalled wages to send a wreath or something else fitting. Roll call continued for the ragged bunch, missing names being skipped over and recalled again until the wary midget of a woman just couldn’t stand to do it anymore. “Aw, screw ‘em. Let’s get the meeting started. Any old business to resolve?”
Barnard was always the first to chime in like the teacher’s pet he most assuredly must have been throughout most of his life. He caught himself just short of raising his hand for attention before coughing it up, “Well, Montayo had that one thing you were supposed to look into, but uh ... well, he isn’t here.” His shoulders bobbed in a brief shrug before glancing back over his contact sheet.
Edith gritted her teeth at the smattering of murmurs and chuckles that protruded from the crew. If nothing else, she hated the lack of order that always presented itself during these meetings. Heck, she hated the meetings altogether. But they were a necessary evil if she wanted to keep the guild in a state that remotely resembled solvent. Not that she always cared about that, but like most people she appreciated when the lights and appliances worked. Edith waved a hand dismissively. “All right, pipe down you yahoos. Anything else?”
She took the momentary lapse of comments as reason enough to move on. “Okay, then. We can move on to new business. We’ve had a drop in our capture rate over the past quarter. This coincides, surprisingly enough, with an increase in our hunter injuries and fatalities. I don’t have to explain this to any of you, do I? Now I know there have been things going on in the guild, and far be it from me to get bent out of shape by a few of you bums getting put into the ground, but it’s affecting business. The bottom line is the bottom line, and right now we’re leaning more towards red no matter how you look at it.”
Edith gave her small play on words time to hit some of the slower witted members over the head a few times before continuing. “The important thing to remember is to be careful. I know half the city thinks that we’re expendable, but we are actually providing a service here. Contrary to popular belief, if we don’t do our jobs right, the city does suffer. But enough with the pep talk…” The woman had to resist the urge to smirk at the notion before continuing, “On to other business. We have a walkabout today.”
The statement drew more attention than any other one in the morning had. Just about every head in the assemblage perked up and directed its attention to the front. Even a few of the sleeping folks snapped awake at the word. It had been a while since there had been a walkabout in the guild. It had been long enough that some people had never encountered one in their entire career. For anyone familiar with the process, there was the usual mix of emotions flowing through the room. There was the standard order of idle curiosity. There was a sprinkle of novelty. But mostly, there was the fear. The horrible, all enclosing fear of the words that would next be spoken.
“I need a volunteer.” Edith timed the comment for the appropriate mix of drama and amusement. The amusement was mostly hers, of course, but there were a handful of people masochistic enough to find potential joy in the outcome. She brushed her hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aw, don’t cry, ya bunch of babies! I’m not stupid enough to expect any of you putzes to actually volunteer. In fact, I’ve come up with a method that’s more than fair. I think I’ll just consider the lucky victim to be the next person to walk through the door. Yep, that’ll do it. The very next person to walk through that door will be our lucky volunteer.”
There was a certain anticipation in her proclamation that had eluded some of the guild, but like a wave the realization of what was happening was starting to become apparent. A low-based murmuring linked itself to a pattern of individuals checking the clock that hung over the door. Anyone that checked saw that it was clearly twelve minutes after their meeting start time. Anyone with even a trace of sense knew that it was Wednesday. And everyone that knew a certain individual knew that by some manner of habit or heavenly decree, a certain member of their guild almost certainly showed up exactly thirteen minutes late for any Wednesday meeting. So it was with great revelry and a modicum of satisfaction that the group welcomed its tardy compatriot into the room.
Lake O’Bannon strolled into the room in matter of fact fashion. Neither his demeanor nor his appearance would indicate that he was in any rush to get inside. On the contrary, nothing that Lake did gave faintest hint that he was on the verge of either sneaking to his seat or apologizing for being late. It had already been well established that the time that Lake reported in on Wednesday was pretty much his own prerogative.
The popular theory was that Lake had some mystery rendezvous on Tuesday nights that kept him preoccupied, but his general lack of a good mood on Wednesday precluded them from associating him with the usual pleasantries that a “secret rendezvous” would entail. Others carried the popular theory that Lake had some early morning regimen on Wednesday that made him late, but again there were no outward signs that he was exhausted from workout, peaceful from meditation, or (as previously mentioned) in a pleasant mood from any other unsavory activity. A few guild members had bothered to attempt to track him on Wednesday morning to see just what the deal was. The few that remained intact long enough to report to anyone else brought the dismal news that Lake was late simply because he was, and it seemed to just be a matter of fate conspiring to make sure he was never on time on Wednesday. Whatever the reason, today it was bound to provide some much needed entertainment for the meeting.
Lake paused after entering the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his leather jacket as he mumbled something best left incoherent under his breath. It took him a handful of seconds to notice that something was out of sorts… more out of sorts than usual in the group. Too many people seemed pleased to see him. He had found in general practice that too many people happy to see him was rarely a good thing.
“Mr. O’Bannon. So lovely to see you today. And at such an appropriate time, too. “ Edith Fortunado grinned an impish smile that her lack of stature made appear even more so. A few of the guild members reflected the same mock enthusiasm that Edith did, and that was when Lake truly grasped how screwed he was.
Lake let a short huff of air slip out of his lips before starting his query. “What? Am I getting docked? Am I getting written up for that ganger I cracked last week? Am I getting docked for cracking that ganger last week? Am I getting cracked for docking that ganger last week?”
The room hung in silence for the reply of their leader. They knew this was just the opening volley in a classic exchange. Edith debated letting the noose tighten a little more before the big reveal, but decided that there was really no reason to drag it out too far. Besides, all of this pleasantry was wearing on her own nerves. Edith propped a hand against her podium. “I was just informing everyone about the walkabout we just acquired.”
Lake fought back a grimace at the mention of the word, a successful effort that he managed to bend into a small smirk. “Walkabout, huh? Haven’t we got enough crap floating around here without one of those making it worse?” Lake had absolutely no qualms about tossing a general insult out in a room of what should be his allies. Heaven knows they would be more than willing to do the same should the opportunity arise. Still, the comment seemed to raise the dander of at least a few of the assembled, many of whom showed their disapproval by shifting in their seats and glaring.
Edith coughed out a monosyllable of disapproval to the question. “Could be.” Edith had the same lack of regard as Lake did in the matter, but at least she had the pull to not be worried about reprisals, “But for better or worse, we’ve got one. And now that I have a volunteer for walkabout duty, I don’t have to worry about it all that much.
“Volunteer?” Lake’s smirk gathered a hint of actual amusement. “What poor fool would be insane enough to volunteer for walkabout du…” It was about that time that he managed to piece it all together. The pleasantries, the general joy he seemed to be bringing part of the room, the fact that he hadn’t been docked yet… there had to be a payoff somewhere for Edith, and there it was. His entire demeanor shifted to one of annoyance. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not shackling me with one of those... things for the week. I did my time two years ago and I was done. Find some other sucker with a death wish to do your dirty work for you.”
Edith’s tone took an abrupt shift of its own, “Now you wait just a minute! You think fair play applies in all guild matters? The truth is this has been coming for a long time. Breaking rules, not following protocols, damage tallies way beyond your class level allowance… and every time I try to call you on it, you have some half-cocked excuse or some convenient break of fortune that keeps my hands tied. You’ve slipped through more loopholes and backdoors than I can count, but not today, bucko! I’ve been waiting to screw you over for a long time now, and now you're gonna get what’s coming to you!”
For a brief moment, Lake seemed genuinely taken aback by Edith’s diatribe. His left eyebrow arched upward as he perused his employer’s face. His lips parted calmly as he carefully sorted out his response.
“Say… are you coming on to me?”
The smattering of chuckles from the audience was more than enough to break the tension for most of them. Some of the guild had gotten a bit restless in the brief pause that preceded Lake’s comment. A few foolish souls actually dared to assume it possible that Lake was honestly repentant and on the verge of apologizing for his past actions. They were more than pleased to see that that was not the case.
Edith Fortunado, on the other hand, was anything but amused. Her face began to flare an almost trademark shade of red, and it was abundantly clear to any of the guild members who had seen it occur before that it was not a blush of embarrassment.
“Do you think…” Edith fought to maintain anything that resembled civility as her temper railed against her better judgment, “… for one second… that I would ever… within the confines of my mind… “ Edith pointed towards Barnard, who flinched at the motion despite the lack of flames shooting from her fingertip, “… his mind… or within the very depths of hell itself even remotely consider coming onto you? In what bizarre freakshow of a world does my utter contempt and rage for you possibly translate into anything that even resembles attraction? You… you… you’re lucky I don’t leap off of here and throttle the life out you with my bare hands!” Her body began to slowly tremble, making some fear that she might actually leap from her podium in some kind of suicidal plunge at her contemptuous employee.
Lake, for his part, seemed unfazed by this new found rage. In fact his own demeanor had improved a good deal, though an apt observer could clearly see that he was by no means happy. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he mused aloud to no one in particular, “Well, I can’t say where it came from, exactly. It was just the wording there. ‘Half-cocked,’ ‘loophole,’ ‘backdoor.’ You know in some circles, even the word 'throttle'…”
Edith banged her fist on the top of her podium and pointed an aged finger at Lake. “All right! Not another word out of you! You’re taking the walkabout, and so help me if I hear anything other than rave reviews about your behavior, I'll bounce you out of here on your smug little backside!”
Lake clearly had something else to say on the matter, but he remained silent. Of his many social skills, the ability to know just how far he could push someone before he had crossed the point of no return was probably the most finely honed. It was clear he didn’t love this particular turn of events, but it was also clear that short of getting himself removed from the guild there wasn’t much else he could do to get out of this. With a certain sense of resignation, he turned and headed back towards the door he had so recently entered.
“And just where do you think you’re going, hot shot?” Edith queried to his back.
Lake didn’t bother to turn around, stopping as he reached the door. “In accordance with Article 4, Paragraph 8 of the Provisional Guild Agreement with the Free States, any member enacted into volunteer duty with a walkabout may, at their discretion, forgo standard guild protocols when interacting with said walkabout. Pursuant with this, I’m enacting a special preparatory meeting to prepare for said walkabout. This meeting, coincidentally enough, will force me to miss the rest of this one. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
As the door shut with Lake on the opposite side of it, Edith Fortunado quietly grinded her teeth together. “I am so docking him for cracking that ganger last week…”
...
(Now the one thing that occurs to me as I reviewed this was a rather obvious error I made in the storytelling. Because this is supposed to be the first time that you meet either Edith or Lake, and neither is particularly described in detail. That's a terrible throwback to the fact that I just didn't care about that particular detail when I started writing.
In fact, one of the things I have a bad habit of being deficient about is writing character and location details. If I'm not in the proper zone, I tend to skim over them and revisit them later, focusing more on advancing the story. But both do get described in more detail later, so I suppose I should just go back and drop some in here.)
“Abernathy.”
“Here.”
“Anderson.”
“Here.”
“Andrews.”
“Present.”
Roll call. Arguably one of the single most annoying periods of time in the history of creation. It begins at childhood, and proceeds to be a nuisance until death. Or at least that’s how some would view it.
“Barnard.”
“Here.”
“Laraby.”
“Yeah, I’m here...”
“Kendricks”
“Here.”
“Montayo.”
“Uh, he’s dead.”
“Really. Cripes, that’s a shame. I already wired his pay for this week. That’s gonna be a pain to get recalled.” Edith Fortunado was always the first to display her own special brand of sympathy. If she remembered, she’d probably use part of the recalled wages to send a wreath or something else fitting. Roll call continued for the ragged bunch, missing names being skipped over and recalled again until the wary midget of a woman just couldn’t stand to do it anymore. “Aw, screw ‘em. Let’s get the meeting started. Any old business to resolve?”
Barnard was always the first to chime in like the teacher’s pet he most assuredly must have been throughout most of his life. He caught himself just short of raising his hand for attention before coughing it up, “Well, Montayo had that one thing you were supposed to look into, but uh ... well, he isn’t here.” His shoulders bobbed in a brief shrug before glancing back over his contact sheet.
Edith gritted her teeth at the smattering of murmurs and chuckles that protruded from the crew. If nothing else, she hated the lack of order that always presented itself during these meetings. Heck, she hated the meetings altogether. But they were a necessary evil if she wanted to keep the guild in a state that remotely resembled solvent. Not that she always cared about that, but like most people she appreciated when the lights and appliances worked. Edith waved a hand dismissively. “All right, pipe down you yahoos. Anything else?”
She took the momentary lapse of comments as reason enough to move on. “Okay, then. We can move on to new business. We’ve had a drop in our capture rate over the past quarter. This coincides, surprisingly enough, with an increase in our hunter injuries and fatalities. I don’t have to explain this to any of you, do I? Now I know there have been things going on in the guild, and far be it from me to get bent out of shape by a few of you bums getting put into the ground, but it’s affecting business. The bottom line is the bottom line, and right now we’re leaning more towards red no matter how you look at it.”
Edith gave her small play on words time to hit some of the slower witted members over the head a few times before continuing. “The important thing to remember is to be careful. I know half the city thinks that we’re expendable, but we are actually providing a service here. Contrary to popular belief, if we don’t do our jobs right, the city does suffer. But enough with the pep talk…” The woman had to resist the urge to smirk at the notion before continuing, “On to other business. We have a walkabout today.”
The statement drew more attention than any other one in the morning had. Just about every head in the assemblage perked up and directed its attention to the front. Even a few of the sleeping folks snapped awake at the word. It had been a while since there had been a walkabout in the guild. It had been long enough that some people had never encountered one in their entire career. For anyone familiar with the process, there was the usual mix of emotions flowing through the room. There was the standard order of idle curiosity. There was a sprinkle of novelty. But mostly, there was the fear. The horrible, all enclosing fear of the words that would next be spoken.
“I need a volunteer.” Edith timed the comment for the appropriate mix of drama and amusement. The amusement was mostly hers, of course, but there were a handful of people masochistic enough to find potential joy in the outcome. She brushed her hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aw, don’t cry, ya bunch of babies! I’m not stupid enough to expect any of you putzes to actually volunteer. In fact, I’ve come up with a method that’s more than fair. I think I’ll just consider the lucky victim to be the next person to walk through the door. Yep, that’ll do it. The very next person to walk through that door will be our lucky volunteer.”
There was a certain anticipation in her proclamation that had eluded some of the guild, but like a wave the realization of what was happening was starting to become apparent. A low-based murmuring linked itself to a pattern of individuals checking the clock that hung over the door. Anyone that checked saw that it was clearly twelve minutes after their meeting start time. Anyone with even a trace of sense knew that it was Wednesday. And everyone that knew a certain individual knew that by some manner of habit or heavenly decree, a certain member of their guild almost certainly showed up exactly thirteen minutes late for any Wednesday meeting. So it was with great revelry and a modicum of satisfaction that the group welcomed its tardy compatriot into the room.
Lake O’Bannon strolled into the room in matter of fact fashion. Neither his demeanor nor his appearance would indicate that he was in any rush to get inside. On the contrary, nothing that Lake did gave faintest hint that he was on the verge of either sneaking to his seat or apologizing for being late. It had already been well established that the time that Lake reported in on Wednesday was pretty much his own prerogative.
The popular theory was that Lake had some mystery rendezvous on Tuesday nights that kept him preoccupied, but his general lack of a good mood on Wednesday precluded them from associating him with the usual pleasantries that a “secret rendezvous” would entail. Others carried the popular theory that Lake had some early morning regimen on Wednesday that made him late, but again there were no outward signs that he was exhausted from workout, peaceful from meditation, or (as previously mentioned) in a pleasant mood from any other unsavory activity. A few guild members had bothered to attempt to track him on Wednesday morning to see just what the deal was. The few that remained intact long enough to report to anyone else brought the dismal news that Lake was late simply because he was, and it seemed to just be a matter of fate conspiring to make sure he was never on time on Wednesday. Whatever the reason, today it was bound to provide some much needed entertainment for the meeting.
Lake paused after entering the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his leather jacket as he mumbled something best left incoherent under his breath. It took him a handful of seconds to notice that something was out of sorts… more out of sorts than usual in the group. Too many people seemed pleased to see him. He had found in general practice that too many people happy to see him was rarely a good thing.
“Mr. O’Bannon. So lovely to see you today. And at such an appropriate time, too. “ Edith Fortunado grinned an impish smile that her lack of stature made appear even more so. A few of the guild members reflected the same mock enthusiasm that Edith did, and that was when Lake truly grasped how screwed he was.
Lake let a short huff of air slip out of his lips before starting his query. “What? Am I getting docked? Am I getting written up for that ganger I cracked last week? Am I getting docked for cracking that ganger last week? Am I getting cracked for docking that ganger last week?”
The room hung in silence for the reply of their leader. They knew this was just the opening volley in a classic exchange. Edith debated letting the noose tighten a little more before the big reveal, but decided that there was really no reason to drag it out too far. Besides, all of this pleasantry was wearing on her own nerves. Edith propped a hand against her podium. “I was just informing everyone about the walkabout we just acquired.”
Lake fought back a grimace at the mention of the word, a successful effort that he managed to bend into a small smirk. “Walkabout, huh? Haven’t we got enough crap floating around here without one of those making it worse?” Lake had absolutely no qualms about tossing a general insult out in a room of what should be his allies. Heaven knows they would be more than willing to do the same should the opportunity arise. Still, the comment seemed to raise the dander of at least a few of the assembled, many of whom showed their disapproval by shifting in their seats and glaring.
Edith coughed out a monosyllable of disapproval to the question. “Could be.” Edith had the same lack of regard as Lake did in the matter, but at least she had the pull to not be worried about reprisals, “But for better or worse, we’ve got one. And now that I have a volunteer for walkabout duty, I don’t have to worry about it all that much.
“Volunteer?” Lake’s smirk gathered a hint of actual amusement. “What poor fool would be insane enough to volunteer for walkabout du…” It was about that time that he managed to piece it all together. The pleasantries, the general joy he seemed to be bringing part of the room, the fact that he hadn’t been docked yet… there had to be a payoff somewhere for Edith, and there it was. His entire demeanor shifted to one of annoyance. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not shackling me with one of those... things for the week. I did my time two years ago and I was done. Find some other sucker with a death wish to do your dirty work for you.”
Edith’s tone took an abrupt shift of its own, “Now you wait just a minute! You think fair play applies in all guild matters? The truth is this has been coming for a long time. Breaking rules, not following protocols, damage tallies way beyond your class level allowance… and every time I try to call you on it, you have some half-cocked excuse or some convenient break of fortune that keeps my hands tied. You’ve slipped through more loopholes and backdoors than I can count, but not today, bucko! I’ve been waiting to screw you over for a long time now, and now you're gonna get what’s coming to you!”
For a brief moment, Lake seemed genuinely taken aback by Edith’s diatribe. His left eyebrow arched upward as he perused his employer’s face. His lips parted calmly as he carefully sorted out his response.
“Say… are you coming on to me?”
The smattering of chuckles from the audience was more than enough to break the tension for most of them. Some of the guild had gotten a bit restless in the brief pause that preceded Lake’s comment. A few foolish souls actually dared to assume it possible that Lake was honestly repentant and on the verge of apologizing for his past actions. They were more than pleased to see that that was not the case.
Edith Fortunado, on the other hand, was anything but amused. Her face began to flare an almost trademark shade of red, and it was abundantly clear to any of the guild members who had seen it occur before that it was not a blush of embarrassment.
“Do you think…” Edith fought to maintain anything that resembled civility as her temper railed against her better judgment, “… for one second… that I would ever… within the confines of my mind… “ Edith pointed towards Barnard, who flinched at the motion despite the lack of flames shooting from her fingertip, “… his mind… or within the very depths of hell itself even remotely consider coming onto you? In what bizarre freakshow of a world does my utter contempt and rage for you possibly translate into anything that even resembles attraction? You… you… you’re lucky I don’t leap off of here and throttle the life out you with my bare hands!” Her body began to slowly tremble, making some fear that she might actually leap from her podium in some kind of suicidal plunge at her contemptuous employee.
Lake, for his part, seemed unfazed by this new found rage. In fact his own demeanor had improved a good deal, though an apt observer could clearly see that he was by no means happy. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he mused aloud to no one in particular, “Well, I can’t say where it came from, exactly. It was just the wording there. ‘Half-cocked,’ ‘loophole,’ ‘backdoor.’ You know in some circles, even the word 'throttle'…”
Edith banged her fist on the top of her podium and pointed an aged finger at Lake. “All right! Not another word out of you! You’re taking the walkabout, and so help me if I hear anything other than rave reviews about your behavior, I'll bounce you out of here on your smug little backside!”
Lake clearly had something else to say on the matter, but he remained silent. Of his many social skills, the ability to know just how far he could push someone before he had crossed the point of no return was probably the most finely honed. It was clear he didn’t love this particular turn of events, but it was also clear that short of getting himself removed from the guild there wasn’t much else he could do to get out of this. With a certain sense of resignation, he turned and headed back towards the door he had so recently entered.
“And just where do you think you’re going, hot shot?” Edith queried to his back.
Lake didn’t bother to turn around, stopping as he reached the door. “In accordance with Article 4, Paragraph 8 of the Provisional Guild Agreement with the Free States, any member enacted into volunteer duty with a walkabout may, at their discretion, forgo standard guild protocols when interacting with said walkabout. Pursuant with this, I’m enacting a special preparatory meeting to prepare for said walkabout. This meeting, coincidentally enough, will force me to miss the rest of this one. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
As the door shut with Lake on the opposite side of it, Edith Fortunado quietly grinded her teeth together. “I am so docking him for cracking that ganger last week…”
...
(Now the one thing that occurs to me as I reviewed this was a rather obvious error I made in the storytelling. Because this is supposed to be the first time that you meet either Edith or Lake, and neither is particularly described in detail. That's a terrible throwback to the fact that I just didn't care about that particular detail when I started writing.
In fact, one of the things I have a bad habit of being deficient about is writing character and location details. If I'm not in the proper zone, I tend to skim over them and revisit them later, focusing more on advancing the story. But both do get described in more detail later, so I suppose I should just go back and drop some in here.)
Saturday, July 25, 2009
First Look: Wolverine and Iron Man Anime Trailers
So finally we get some sweet trailers for Madhouse's upcoming Marvel Comics based anime projects. And they're... well, interesting is the word I'm going to go with.
Wolverine is definitely getting some interesting treatment here...
Iron Man seems to be more in line with the hero we know and love, even if it's not clear what the heck is going on here...
But as always, I'll say that I'm facing both projects with "guarded optimism." They are a good year away, after all, and until we see the complete project, I'd be hard pressed to call either one a failure just yet.
Wolverine is definitely getting some interesting treatment here...
Iron Man seems to be more in line with the hero we know and love, even if it's not clear what the heck is going on here...
But as always, I'll say that I'm facing both projects with "guarded optimism." They are a good year away, after all, and until we see the complete project, I'd be hard pressed to call either one a failure just yet.
Revisionist History: Part 2b
(This is the second part of an excerpt of the major huge deal writing project I took on last year. I went back to edit it, but was surprised at how solid the thing was untouched. I still touched it up a bit, though. When we last left our fateful pair, youthful Hunter newbie Dani Brightstar was taking a measure of abuse at the hands of clan sponsor Edith Fortunado. Of course, we have yet to hear Dani's side of things...)
"Mrs. Fortunado," Danielle tried to give her response a tone of civility. "I come from a long line of tribal people. I don't expect many people that live outside of that world to understand what it's like, and I'm sure that given your last comment you certainly wouldn’t fall into the category of the understanding type..."
"Now wait..." Edith started, but was stopped short by a brief hand raised by the still speaking Danielle.
"But what I would expect you to understand," Danielle continued, "Is that in that place, among my people, we have a certain set of beliefs. And among those is the belief that you're chosen for a task, but not necessarily the task that you choose. Now, I'm hardly the first one to say that I believe each and every thing that has been taught to me over the years..." She paused for a brief moment of self-reflection before continuing, "But I certainly do believe that the task that I was given was to come here and attempt to help out to the best of my ability. Frankly, if you didn't think it was at least worth the time to have me here, you could've refused my request like many others did."
"Hmmph..." Edith puffed on her tiny cigar, which now had become all but a useless flickering stub. If she was offended by the last part of Danielle's comment, she didn't show it. Instead, she just spat the nub of half dead leaves in her mouth into the trash can next to her desk and smiled. "Fair enough, lady." She leaned forward into her seat again, the elevated chair creaking slightly as she pressed her weight against the edge of the desk. "Now then, as far as your 'mentor' goes..."
The moment of relief that Danielle had was short lived. She had half expected to be tossed out of the office after the little speech she had made, but even after having gotten away with that, she was about to hear about her least favorite subject of the time. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much she could say about the man. The little that she knew about him had already been covered. He was a bit odd, and he had apparently ditched her. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but frown at the mention of him.
Edith noted the frown and responded with a short, gruff smirk of her own. "Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. Lake O'Bannon... well, the guy's not the cheeriest of sorts. And he's kind of rude at times. And inconsiderate. And he's just as likely to blow your head off as he is to shake your hand some days. And I realize that I'm not making much of a pitch for him right now, but hear me out....
"There's really only two things you need to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first thing is that it's all an act. The rudeness, the not seeming to care who lives or dies... It's all just a big show he puts on so he won't be bothered as much. Somewhere along the way, he figured out that that's how he can get by in life, so that's what he does. Deep down, he's really just a sensitive guy that wants to do the right thing. I know what I told the other guys, but I wouldn't have put you with him if I didn't think he would give you a fair shake."
"Some fair shake..." Danielle mumbled.
Edith smiled again. "Well, see... that's just the thing. You hang around him long enough, and you'll start to understand how he thinks. For example, he acts like he doesn't care about his job, but that doesn't mean that he'd go out of his way to do something that would get him fired. Especially when he could just half-step it and get away with it."
Danielle blinked. "I don't get what you mean."
Edith sighed softly. "Take this little 'test' he's giving you. He called it a 'test', didn't he?" She took Danielle's nod as confirmation and continued, "Now see, he probably laid out what seemed like an impossible task for you, but he knows full well that I'd chew him to pieces if he really did that, so he's probably already got an out. So no matter how impossible whatever he gave you to do might sound, they'll be some way to accomplish it."
Danielle went over it again in her head, thinking aloud, "I don't really think so. I mean, all he said was I had to find him in three hours..."
"Three hours? That's all he said?"
"Yeah, three hours. He said that I had three hours to find him, or else..." Danielle stopped as a thought slowly started to slip into her head. "That's not... that's not all he said."
"It's not, is it?"
"No. He said that pass or fail, I should meet him at Celestial Park at noon. In the food court." Danielle still felt like she was forgetting something, but she also felt like she was right on the verge of figuring something out.
Edith glanced at the ceiling for a second, then smirked as she leaned back in her chair. "I think this might be the most retarded thing he's ever pulled." She paused for moment to glance towards Danielle and offer, "No offense to you, mind you. I might have fallen for it, too, if I didn't have on a watch..."
"A watch..." Danielle parroted. It hadn't even occurred to her before that she wasn't wearing a timepiece. It wasn't the kind of thing that she'd find terribly useful with her tribe, and it hadn't occurred to her to purchase one before she got into town. Come to think of it, she hadn't really concerned herself with time at all until she was given a deadline by... Her face flushed as the last bit of realization sank it.
"Ah," Edith moaned. "I think you get it now, don't you?"
"I didn't even think about it... I never would have thought about it..." Danielle stammered. It hadn't once occurred to her to think about what time it was since she went past the checkpoint at the gate. Once the meeting location got moved to the Gold Harpy, she hadn't worried about being on time. And she had spent so much time running around and checking to see where Lake might have gone off to after he disappeared that by the time she thought to check on the time, it had been a good 10-15 minutes, at least. "Nine twenty..." She mumbled, almost to herself.
"What's that?" Edith asked, seeming to have a good idea of the answer already.
"All the running around I did... it was 9:20 before I checked what time it was. But I couldn't have been looking for more than 15 minutes or so..."
Edith chuckled. "If I had to guess, knowing the man like I do, he disappeared around 9:02."
"9:02..." Danielle repeated again. Which meant, she finally realized, that Lake never had any intention of her being able to find him. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had set the stage so that his "test" would end at 12:02, exactly two minutes after noon. If she had been paying attention, and if she had been patient, it would have occurred to her that all she had to do was meet him at the food court on time and she would "pass". Danielle stared at the floor as she mumbled, "But that's... that's just..."
"Crazy?" Edith shook her head. "Yeah, pretty much. But it's the kind of crap I'd expect from him. He's probably been there the whole time. If you quit, and I made a big fuss about it, he'd just point out how you could have figured it out if you had thought about it. Or if you had even had the guts to face him at the food court." She clucked her tongue a few times before adding, "Of course, the decision is yours now."
"Decision?"
"Yeah. Decision." Edith was the parrot this time. "You've managed to figure out what he was up to, but it's still up to you to figure out what to do about it. It's not like he can actually fail you over a lame stunt like this, but he is one of the people assigned to assess you. It’s probably in your best interest to show up at the food court on time. Assuming, that is, that you weren't just blowing smoke up my ass with all of that 'task I was given' crap before."
Danielle pressed her leg against the edge of her staff. If it hadn't before, it was bound to leave an impression when she finally went to stand up. She truly had meant every word she had said to Edith earlier. Danielle had her reasons for being here, and it wasn't part of her plan at all to give up. She could imagine that someone would look at her and think that she wasn't cut out for the job, but that didn't necessarily mean that she shouldn't do it. On top of that, she had felt more reassured than discouraged by the conversation she had here. She wasn't sure that was what Edith intended, but it made her feel better all the same.
"Yeah," Danielle said. "Yeah, I think I'll go there."
"Good," Edith replied. "Good for you. Now, you better haul butt over there. You don't have a lot of time to make it."
Danielle glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that there were roughly fifteen minutes left before noon. "Right," she uttered as she stood up and picked up her staff. She smiled and nodded politely as she turned to walk out of the room. She opened the door, then paused and turned back towards Edith. "What was the other thing?"
Edith, who had started to relax a hair as Danielle was leaving, perked up her eyebrows. "Huh? What that?"
Danielle turned on a heel so that she could better face Edith at the doorway. "You said before that there were two things I needed to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first was that the whole insensitive thing as an act. What's the second thing?"
"Oh, that." Edith smiled. "The second thing you need to know about Lake O'Bannon... is that he's a very good actor."
Danielle found herself inexplicably smiling after the comment. She turned to head out of the door.
"Brightstar?"
"Yes."
"Do yourself a favor and buy a watch, will ya?"
"Right. Right. Thanks."
...
(One of the things that I wanted to establish after having Dani take the brunt of first Lake's attitude, then Edith's is that Dani isn't exactly a pushover. Yes, her inclination is to approach new things timidly, but she's more than willing to stand her ground when need be. It doesn't hurt that Edith pushed a specific set of hot buttons for Dani, which inclined Dani to snap back a little.
As for Lake's little "test"... sure, it's actually a stupid trick, but it's the kind of thing that I'd be inclined to do in a roleplaying session to see if anyone was paying attention to detail. Dani in this unfortunately represents a large chunk of roleplayers who so readily dive into a task or challenge that they ignore the relevant details.
In this case, though, Edith tosses Dani a clue. This is, quite possibly the nicest thing you will ever see Edith do. She not only steers Dani in the right direction, but gives her a little insight into the nature of would-be mentor Lake O'Bannon. Not that said insight will necessarily help her.
It should be noted, though, that I consider Edith's "two things" comment to be a quintessential definition of Lake's character. That I let Edith say it is a testament to how well she knows the man, despite the fact that she would never admit any of that to him in public.
Which brings us back to Lake. Despite my love for one of my creations, he did need to step back at points in time in this story. And even though it was supposed to be his story, Dani ends up taking most of the spotlight. The story just worked better that way. But that doesn't mean that I won't get back to him very shortly...)
"Mrs. Fortunado," Danielle tried to give her response a tone of civility. "I come from a long line of tribal people. I don't expect many people that live outside of that world to understand what it's like, and I'm sure that given your last comment you certainly wouldn’t fall into the category of the understanding type..."
"Now wait..." Edith started, but was stopped short by a brief hand raised by the still speaking Danielle.
"But what I would expect you to understand," Danielle continued, "Is that in that place, among my people, we have a certain set of beliefs. And among those is the belief that you're chosen for a task, but not necessarily the task that you choose. Now, I'm hardly the first one to say that I believe each and every thing that has been taught to me over the years..." She paused for a brief moment of self-reflection before continuing, "But I certainly do believe that the task that I was given was to come here and attempt to help out to the best of my ability. Frankly, if you didn't think it was at least worth the time to have me here, you could've refused my request like many others did."
"Hmmph..." Edith puffed on her tiny cigar, which now had become all but a useless flickering stub. If she was offended by the last part of Danielle's comment, she didn't show it. Instead, she just spat the nub of half dead leaves in her mouth into the trash can next to her desk and smiled. "Fair enough, lady." She leaned forward into her seat again, the elevated chair creaking slightly as she pressed her weight against the edge of the desk. "Now then, as far as your 'mentor' goes..."
The moment of relief that Danielle had was short lived. She had half expected to be tossed out of the office after the little speech she had made, but even after having gotten away with that, she was about to hear about her least favorite subject of the time. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much she could say about the man. The little that she knew about him had already been covered. He was a bit odd, and he had apparently ditched her. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but frown at the mention of him.
Edith noted the frown and responded with a short, gruff smirk of her own. "Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. Lake O'Bannon... well, the guy's not the cheeriest of sorts. And he's kind of rude at times. And inconsiderate. And he's just as likely to blow your head off as he is to shake your hand some days. And I realize that I'm not making much of a pitch for him right now, but hear me out....
"There's really only two things you need to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first thing is that it's all an act. The rudeness, the not seeming to care who lives or dies... It's all just a big show he puts on so he won't be bothered as much. Somewhere along the way, he figured out that that's how he can get by in life, so that's what he does. Deep down, he's really just a sensitive guy that wants to do the right thing. I know what I told the other guys, but I wouldn't have put you with him if I didn't think he would give you a fair shake."
"Some fair shake..." Danielle mumbled.
Edith smiled again. "Well, see... that's just the thing. You hang around him long enough, and you'll start to understand how he thinks. For example, he acts like he doesn't care about his job, but that doesn't mean that he'd go out of his way to do something that would get him fired. Especially when he could just half-step it and get away with it."
Danielle blinked. "I don't get what you mean."
Edith sighed softly. "Take this little 'test' he's giving you. He called it a 'test', didn't he?" She took Danielle's nod as confirmation and continued, "Now see, he probably laid out what seemed like an impossible task for you, but he knows full well that I'd chew him to pieces if he really did that, so he's probably already got an out. So no matter how impossible whatever he gave you to do might sound, they'll be some way to accomplish it."
Danielle went over it again in her head, thinking aloud, "I don't really think so. I mean, all he said was I had to find him in three hours..."
"Three hours? That's all he said?"
"Yeah, three hours. He said that I had three hours to find him, or else..." Danielle stopped as a thought slowly started to slip into her head. "That's not... that's not all he said."
"It's not, is it?"
"No. He said that pass or fail, I should meet him at Celestial Park at noon. In the food court." Danielle still felt like she was forgetting something, but she also felt like she was right on the verge of figuring something out.
Edith glanced at the ceiling for a second, then smirked as she leaned back in her chair. "I think this might be the most retarded thing he's ever pulled." She paused for moment to glance towards Danielle and offer, "No offense to you, mind you. I might have fallen for it, too, if I didn't have on a watch..."
"A watch..." Danielle parroted. It hadn't even occurred to her before that she wasn't wearing a timepiece. It wasn't the kind of thing that she'd find terribly useful with her tribe, and it hadn't occurred to her to purchase one before she got into town. Come to think of it, she hadn't really concerned herself with time at all until she was given a deadline by... Her face flushed as the last bit of realization sank it.
"Ah," Edith moaned. "I think you get it now, don't you?"
"I didn't even think about it... I never would have thought about it..." Danielle stammered. It hadn't once occurred to her to think about what time it was since she went past the checkpoint at the gate. Once the meeting location got moved to the Gold Harpy, she hadn't worried about being on time. And she had spent so much time running around and checking to see where Lake might have gone off to after he disappeared that by the time she thought to check on the time, it had been a good 10-15 minutes, at least. "Nine twenty..." She mumbled, almost to herself.
"What's that?" Edith asked, seeming to have a good idea of the answer already.
"All the running around I did... it was 9:20 before I checked what time it was. But I couldn't have been looking for more than 15 minutes or so..."
Edith chuckled. "If I had to guess, knowing the man like I do, he disappeared around 9:02."
"9:02..." Danielle repeated again. Which meant, she finally realized, that Lake never had any intention of her being able to find him. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had set the stage so that his "test" would end at 12:02, exactly two minutes after noon. If she had been paying attention, and if she had been patient, it would have occurred to her that all she had to do was meet him at the food court on time and she would "pass". Danielle stared at the floor as she mumbled, "But that's... that's just..."
"Crazy?" Edith shook her head. "Yeah, pretty much. But it's the kind of crap I'd expect from him. He's probably been there the whole time. If you quit, and I made a big fuss about it, he'd just point out how you could have figured it out if you had thought about it. Or if you had even had the guts to face him at the food court." She clucked her tongue a few times before adding, "Of course, the decision is yours now."
"Decision?"
"Yeah. Decision." Edith was the parrot this time. "You've managed to figure out what he was up to, but it's still up to you to figure out what to do about it. It's not like he can actually fail you over a lame stunt like this, but he is one of the people assigned to assess you. It’s probably in your best interest to show up at the food court on time. Assuming, that is, that you weren't just blowing smoke up my ass with all of that 'task I was given' crap before."
Danielle pressed her leg against the edge of her staff. If it hadn't before, it was bound to leave an impression when she finally went to stand up. She truly had meant every word she had said to Edith earlier. Danielle had her reasons for being here, and it wasn't part of her plan at all to give up. She could imagine that someone would look at her and think that she wasn't cut out for the job, but that didn't necessarily mean that she shouldn't do it. On top of that, she had felt more reassured than discouraged by the conversation she had here. She wasn't sure that was what Edith intended, but it made her feel better all the same.
"Yeah," Danielle said. "Yeah, I think I'll go there."
"Good," Edith replied. "Good for you. Now, you better haul butt over there. You don't have a lot of time to make it."
Danielle glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that there were roughly fifteen minutes left before noon. "Right," she uttered as she stood up and picked up her staff. She smiled and nodded politely as she turned to walk out of the room. She opened the door, then paused and turned back towards Edith. "What was the other thing?"
Edith, who had started to relax a hair as Danielle was leaving, perked up her eyebrows. "Huh? What that?"
Danielle turned on a heel so that she could better face Edith at the doorway. "You said before that there were two things I needed to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first was that the whole insensitive thing as an act. What's the second thing?"
"Oh, that." Edith smiled. "The second thing you need to know about Lake O'Bannon... is that he's a very good actor."
Danielle found herself inexplicably smiling after the comment. She turned to head out of the door.
"Brightstar?"
"Yes."
"Do yourself a favor and buy a watch, will ya?"
"Right. Right. Thanks."
...
(One of the things that I wanted to establish after having Dani take the brunt of first Lake's attitude, then Edith's is that Dani isn't exactly a pushover. Yes, her inclination is to approach new things timidly, but she's more than willing to stand her ground when need be. It doesn't hurt that Edith pushed a specific set of hot buttons for Dani, which inclined Dani to snap back a little.
As for Lake's little "test"... sure, it's actually a stupid trick, but it's the kind of thing that I'd be inclined to do in a roleplaying session to see if anyone was paying attention to detail. Dani in this unfortunately represents a large chunk of roleplayers who so readily dive into a task or challenge that they ignore the relevant details.
In this case, though, Edith tosses Dani a clue. This is, quite possibly the nicest thing you will ever see Edith do. She not only steers Dani in the right direction, but gives her a little insight into the nature of would-be mentor Lake O'Bannon. Not that said insight will necessarily help her.
It should be noted, though, that I consider Edith's "two things" comment to be a quintessential definition of Lake's character. That I let Edith say it is a testament to how well she knows the man, despite the fact that she would never admit any of that to him in public.
Which brings us back to Lake. Despite my love for one of my creations, he did need to step back at points in time in this story. And even though it was supposed to be his story, Dani ends up taking most of the spotlight. The story just worked better that way. But that doesn't mean that I won't get back to him very shortly...)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Revisionist History: Part 2a
(So I've decided to revisit my much ballyhooed NaNoWriMo project, and since I can't manage to find a more reasonable chunk of this particular passage to use, I've decided to break it into parts. In this first part, clan sponsor Edith Fortunado meets for the first time with potential trainee hunter Danielle Brightstar...)
Edith Fortunado settled into the worn seat behind her desk. Having spent the better part of the morning following the weekly meeting completing forms, reports and other assorted business minutiae, she was looking forward to spending the better part of the next few hours sitting in her locked office and acting like she was busy working. It was one of the few perks that her position as clan sponsor allowed her. She was right on the verge of finding a nice section of newspaper to read through when she heard the knock on her door.
"Oh, for the love of..." she mumbled to herself before shouting annoyedly, "What?"
"Um, sorry ma'am." Barnard's weasely voice strained through the wooden frame of the door. "I know you didn't want to be bothered, but... she's here."
"She?" Edith asked through clenched teeth. "Who on earth is 'she'?"
"The blacko... ahem... the, er, walkabout, ma'am," Barnard answered with a bit of a stammer. "I could tell her you're busy if you'd like. She doesn't have an appointment..."
Edith pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. I might as well get this out of the way now. Tell her to come in." Edith leaned forward in her seat with a bit of a scowl. She took a few moments to scatter enough of the items on her desk to make it look like she was busier than she ever could have been before taking a deep breath and forcing a faint smile. Sociable enough, she thought to herself as the door opened.
The woman Edith saw enter the room wasn't unpleasant on the eyes. She wasn't very remarkable either, but such is the case with some people. The short cut crop of dark brown hair on top of the woman's head wasn't helping her to look any more feminine, but at least she did have some sort of shape to her. The ensemble of a top and skirt, both made of animal skins, was only bound to make the woman stand out in the city in the long run. But truth be told, Edith thought through her assessment, that can be just as big a plus as it could be a minus.
The first thing Danielle noticed as she turned the knob and opened the door was how old the office looked. She understood more than anyone that in this day and age almost any given person could have his or her own sense of style or culture. She herself came from a place where many of the modern conveniences of the world were ignored in lieu of simpler things. But still, she really expected something less... vintage than the room that she was entering.
Maybe it was just that she expected something different from the leader of the clan she had applied for a permit from. She's not sure why she felt that way, considering the reception she had met earlier in the day in her "mentor". Appearances could obviously be deceiving in cases like this. The leader in question, Danielle assessed, certainly had to have something up her sleeve.
As diminutive as Edith Fortunado was (was midget the correct term?), she must have had some interesting history to end up the head of a clan of Hunters. Her lightly wrinkled face gave way to her age, and her black hair had a thick streak of gray along the left side. The staunch little woman couldn't really do much in the line of intimidating someone in a confrontation, but that, Danielle imagined, could have its positives, too.
Edith decided to get the ball rolling by offering a seat to the entering Danielle. "Welcome. Please sit down." Upon noticing the woman's walking stick she added, "Nice staff."
Danielle started to say something with regards to the comment, but decided instead to just simply sit in the seat offered to her across from Edith. The desk itself was a solid oak, worn by time and buckled gently by what had to be the weight of various files and other items. She sat her staff so it rested between the armrest and her leg, then tried her best to get comfortable in the seating. It was an uphill battle.
"So..." Edith shuffled through a pair of files on her desk before finding the sheet that she was looking for. "Danielle, is it? You mind if I call you Dani?"
"... fine."
Edith wasn't sure why the young woman would agree to something in such low spirits, but it's not like Edith really cared that much about it. "So, Dani... how was your trip? It looks like you made it to the city all right."
"Oh, yes. Not much to say about the trip. It was pretty... peaceful." Danielle's answer was guarded but optimistic.
"Get through the checkpoint okay? No hangups with getting your travel passes or anything?"
"Oh, no. That was just fine, too."
"And how was your meeting? I heard it got moved..."
"Oh, that?" Danielle hedged gently as she leaned to the right in her chair. "I guess I'd say that went fine, too."
"Uh huh..." Edith pressed on, "And your 'mentor'? Everything going fine with him?"
"Mr. O'Ban...er, Lake? He's a little... well, he's not what I'd expe... what I mean to say is that I'm sure that he's a nice enough guy, but...."
Edith's face bent into a wrinkled little smile, "He ditched you, didn't he?"
Danielle all but fell out of her chair at the sudden interjection. "Wha? He... I wouldn't say that...I mean, I don't think that he...” Why exactly was it that she was trying to defend the man, again? Danielle let out a small huff. "Yes. He ditched me."
Edith smiled in earnest, leaning back in her seat. "Yeah, he tends to do that. I'm surprised you actually thought to come here first. Most people would have run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off for a few hours."
Danielle forced out a broken chuckle. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that she had, in fact, spent the better part of two hours running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off. She had checked every business along the stretch of Main Street where Lake had disappeared. She was halfway through the city gate before she figured that there was no real way that he could have or would have gone to the outside. And she had even resorted to going person to person and asking random strangers if they had seen the man. Which, she mused to herself, was fairly deserving of the laughter that she had received from most of the people she ran into.
Edith stared at the young woman in front of her. She could see on the girl's face that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation. Edith hadn't meant to strike a nerve, but at the same time she wasn’t going to pull her punches either. This was as much an assessment of Danielle's resilience as it was her capability, and before it would be over, there would be far worse in store for the potential trainee than a few hurt feelings
Edith leaned forward and opened a drawer on the left side of her desk. Reaching in, she retrieved a small, tight rolled cigar and popped the end into her mouth. Without so much as an ounce of consideration for whether or not it might disturb her office mate, Edith promptly lit the cigar with a match and took a few short puffs.
Danielle wasn't sure if she was supposed to be doing a better job with this interview. In reality, she hadn't figured out why she had even bothered coming to the guild office. Part of her desperately wanted to find a group of laughing comrades there just waiting to let her in on the fact that she had been the butt of an elaborate joke. 'I can't believe you'd fall for something like that!' they'd chuckle. 'Welcome to the Guild, newbie!' they'd smile. There would also be cake.
Having arrived and finding some of the pointing and laughing but none of the prank-worthy camaraderie she was looking for, Danielle had seriously considered giving up. If she couldn't hack the first few hours of the day, how could she hold up for a week? A month? How was she ever supposed to etch out a life for herself in a city full of mages, psychos, robots and everything in between if she couldn't handle the first few hours? This was only the twelfth time she had asked herself that, and it was starting to feel like a personal mantra. She hadn't exactly expected Edith Fortunado to be a heaping pile of consolation, but Danielle couldn't help but think that the woman could be a little more considerate if she wanted to.
Edith took another pair of puffs from her cigar before propping herself back up into her chair. She looked across the desk at Danielle and vented a stream of smoke from her nostrils.
"What you have to understand..." Edith started with a tinge of sincerity, "Is that a lot of the people around here are worthless. Scum, really. All that pomp and glamour they try to put on the jobs we do is just a spit shine on a crap cracker." She took a moment to assess if that was anywhere near a proper analogy before continuing. "What I mean to say is that this is a hard life choice. It's not for everyone, and it's certainly not for someone that can find work doing something safer. Taking this job will put your life in constant peril. Even when you're not on the job, someone... or something... might try to take a shot at you. Yes, you should be well protected, and once you're with a clan, they'll always have your back, but you have to accept the fact that just by signing up for this job, you're probably cutting your life span in half. There isn't much a of a retirement plan because frankly, not many people make it to retirement age."
"The reason that those guys out there probably treated you like crap is because... well, they generally view walkabouts as bad luck. ‘Blackouts’ is what they call them. Because for some reason, any time one of them shows up, it seems like someone ends up getting killed over it. And that's on top of the usual nonsense that gets people killed around here."
“What I guess I'm trying to say, Dani, is... have you really thought this through? I'm sure that you could make a nice living selling beaded necklaces or horn jewelry or whatever passes for a safe occupation around your neck of the woods."
...
(It should be noted at this point int he story, Dani shows opening frustration because she constantly runs into people who say, "Nice staff," to her (neither she nor the reader understands why at this point) and is almost always asked if she can be called Dani (which she really would prefer not to be called). And yes, Edith is in fact everyone's dream boss. But fear not. This section is specifically designed to spotlight Edith's edge against Dani's seemingly gentle nature, almost as much as the next section is designed to do the opposite.
And yes, Edith is a little person. Not a dwarf, gnome, leprechaun or any other interesting thing she could be. Don't ask me why I went with that choice. I think it was just simple aesthetics.)
Edith Fortunado settled into the worn seat behind her desk. Having spent the better part of the morning following the weekly meeting completing forms, reports and other assorted business minutiae, she was looking forward to spending the better part of the next few hours sitting in her locked office and acting like she was busy working. It was one of the few perks that her position as clan sponsor allowed her. She was right on the verge of finding a nice section of newspaper to read through when she heard the knock on her door.
"Oh, for the love of..." she mumbled to herself before shouting annoyedly, "What?"
"Um, sorry ma'am." Barnard's weasely voice strained through the wooden frame of the door. "I know you didn't want to be bothered, but... she's here."
"She?" Edith asked through clenched teeth. "Who on earth is 'she'?"
"The blacko... ahem... the, er, walkabout, ma'am," Barnard answered with a bit of a stammer. "I could tell her you're busy if you'd like. She doesn't have an appointment..."
Edith pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. I might as well get this out of the way now. Tell her to come in." Edith leaned forward in her seat with a bit of a scowl. She took a few moments to scatter enough of the items on her desk to make it look like she was busier than she ever could have been before taking a deep breath and forcing a faint smile. Sociable enough, she thought to herself as the door opened.
The woman Edith saw enter the room wasn't unpleasant on the eyes. She wasn't very remarkable either, but such is the case with some people. The short cut crop of dark brown hair on top of the woman's head wasn't helping her to look any more feminine, but at least she did have some sort of shape to her. The ensemble of a top and skirt, both made of animal skins, was only bound to make the woman stand out in the city in the long run. But truth be told, Edith thought through her assessment, that can be just as big a plus as it could be a minus.
The first thing Danielle noticed as she turned the knob and opened the door was how old the office looked. She understood more than anyone that in this day and age almost any given person could have his or her own sense of style or culture. She herself came from a place where many of the modern conveniences of the world were ignored in lieu of simpler things. But still, she really expected something less... vintage than the room that she was entering.
Maybe it was just that she expected something different from the leader of the clan she had applied for a permit from. She's not sure why she felt that way, considering the reception she had met earlier in the day in her "mentor". Appearances could obviously be deceiving in cases like this. The leader in question, Danielle assessed, certainly had to have something up her sleeve.
As diminutive as Edith Fortunado was (was midget the correct term?), she must have had some interesting history to end up the head of a clan of Hunters. Her lightly wrinkled face gave way to her age, and her black hair had a thick streak of gray along the left side. The staunch little woman couldn't really do much in the line of intimidating someone in a confrontation, but that, Danielle imagined, could have its positives, too.
Edith decided to get the ball rolling by offering a seat to the entering Danielle. "Welcome. Please sit down." Upon noticing the woman's walking stick she added, "Nice staff."
Danielle started to say something with regards to the comment, but decided instead to just simply sit in the seat offered to her across from Edith. The desk itself was a solid oak, worn by time and buckled gently by what had to be the weight of various files and other items. She sat her staff so it rested between the armrest and her leg, then tried her best to get comfortable in the seating. It was an uphill battle.
"So..." Edith shuffled through a pair of files on her desk before finding the sheet that she was looking for. "Danielle, is it? You mind if I call you Dani?"
"... fine."
Edith wasn't sure why the young woman would agree to something in such low spirits, but it's not like Edith really cared that much about it. "So, Dani... how was your trip? It looks like you made it to the city all right."
"Oh, yes. Not much to say about the trip. It was pretty... peaceful." Danielle's answer was guarded but optimistic.
"Get through the checkpoint okay? No hangups with getting your travel passes or anything?"
"Oh, no. That was just fine, too."
"And how was your meeting? I heard it got moved..."
"Oh, that?" Danielle hedged gently as she leaned to the right in her chair. "I guess I'd say that went fine, too."
"Uh huh..." Edith pressed on, "And your 'mentor'? Everything going fine with him?"
"Mr. O'Ban...er, Lake? He's a little... well, he's not what I'd expe... what I mean to say is that I'm sure that he's a nice enough guy, but...."
Edith's face bent into a wrinkled little smile, "He ditched you, didn't he?"
Danielle all but fell out of her chair at the sudden interjection. "Wha? He... I wouldn't say that...I mean, I don't think that he...” Why exactly was it that she was trying to defend the man, again? Danielle let out a small huff. "Yes. He ditched me."
Edith smiled in earnest, leaning back in her seat. "Yeah, he tends to do that. I'm surprised you actually thought to come here first. Most people would have run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off for a few hours."
Danielle forced out a broken chuckle. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that she had, in fact, spent the better part of two hours running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off. She had checked every business along the stretch of Main Street where Lake had disappeared. She was halfway through the city gate before she figured that there was no real way that he could have or would have gone to the outside. And she had even resorted to going person to person and asking random strangers if they had seen the man. Which, she mused to herself, was fairly deserving of the laughter that she had received from most of the people she ran into.
Edith stared at the young woman in front of her. She could see on the girl's face that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation. Edith hadn't meant to strike a nerve, but at the same time she wasn’t going to pull her punches either. This was as much an assessment of Danielle's resilience as it was her capability, and before it would be over, there would be far worse in store for the potential trainee than a few hurt feelings
Edith leaned forward and opened a drawer on the left side of her desk. Reaching in, she retrieved a small, tight rolled cigar and popped the end into her mouth. Without so much as an ounce of consideration for whether or not it might disturb her office mate, Edith promptly lit the cigar with a match and took a few short puffs.
Danielle wasn't sure if she was supposed to be doing a better job with this interview. In reality, she hadn't figured out why she had even bothered coming to the guild office. Part of her desperately wanted to find a group of laughing comrades there just waiting to let her in on the fact that she had been the butt of an elaborate joke. 'I can't believe you'd fall for something like that!' they'd chuckle. 'Welcome to the Guild, newbie!' they'd smile. There would also be cake.
Having arrived and finding some of the pointing and laughing but none of the prank-worthy camaraderie she was looking for, Danielle had seriously considered giving up. If she couldn't hack the first few hours of the day, how could she hold up for a week? A month? How was she ever supposed to etch out a life for herself in a city full of mages, psychos, robots and everything in between if she couldn't handle the first few hours? This was only the twelfth time she had asked herself that, and it was starting to feel like a personal mantra. She hadn't exactly expected Edith Fortunado to be a heaping pile of consolation, but Danielle couldn't help but think that the woman could be a little more considerate if she wanted to.
Edith took another pair of puffs from her cigar before propping herself back up into her chair. She looked across the desk at Danielle and vented a stream of smoke from her nostrils.
"What you have to understand..." Edith started with a tinge of sincerity, "Is that a lot of the people around here are worthless. Scum, really. All that pomp and glamour they try to put on the jobs we do is just a spit shine on a crap cracker." She took a moment to assess if that was anywhere near a proper analogy before continuing. "What I mean to say is that this is a hard life choice. It's not for everyone, and it's certainly not for someone that can find work doing something safer. Taking this job will put your life in constant peril. Even when you're not on the job, someone... or something... might try to take a shot at you. Yes, you should be well protected, and once you're with a clan, they'll always have your back, but you have to accept the fact that just by signing up for this job, you're probably cutting your life span in half. There isn't much a of a retirement plan because frankly, not many people make it to retirement age."
"The reason that those guys out there probably treated you like crap is because... well, they generally view walkabouts as bad luck. ‘Blackouts’ is what they call them. Because for some reason, any time one of them shows up, it seems like someone ends up getting killed over it. And that's on top of the usual nonsense that gets people killed around here."
“What I guess I'm trying to say, Dani, is... have you really thought this through? I'm sure that you could make a nice living selling beaded necklaces or horn jewelry or whatever passes for a safe occupation around your neck of the woods."
...
(It should be noted at this point int he story, Dani shows opening frustration because she constantly runs into people who say, "Nice staff," to her (neither she nor the reader understands why at this point) and is almost always asked if she can be called Dani (which she really would prefer not to be called). And yes, Edith is in fact everyone's dream boss. But fear not. This section is specifically designed to spotlight Edith's edge against Dani's seemingly gentle nature, almost as much as the next section is designed to do the opposite.
And yes, Edith is a little person. Not a dwarf, gnome, leprechaun or any other interesting thing she could be. Don't ask me why I went with that choice. I think it was just simple aesthetics.)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Abstract Thought of the Day
Why is it that no matter what time they reach a corner, no matter how stopped traffic is in the direction they want to cross, and no matter how obviously placed all of the traffic signals may be, pedestrians always pick the half second before a light changes to green as the time to walk into the street and in front of the car(s) that are about to move?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Revisionist History: Part 1
Okay, so I'm allegedly still rehashing and editing some of the pilot I wrote earlier this year. It still remains the greatest pilot script I've ever written (ignore the fact that it's the only one I've ever written...), but it needs some serious cleaning to get anywhere close to presentable.
That's not entirely true. I could show you the whole thing right now, really. But I'd just as soon not, since my ego is fragile enough when I share complete works that I think are pretty solid.
So in an effort to make forward progress with revisions, to flesh out details that haven't yet been fleshed out, to present some insight into some of the plot and characters, and simply because I can count it as work on editing if I put it in writing, here is the first of several installments of post-first draft observations made by me on the pilot episode of Frak.
I've reread the entire script, and I already know that there are several plot holes that need feeling. Major filling. Perhaps a cream filling, but more on that some other time. The one thing that going back through it convinced me of was that a critical decision I made early on had to be revisited and revised.
Basically put: Chris needed to be more evil.
To explain, Chris is the lead character Charlie's alter ego. He is literally his alter ego, as they share the same thoughts and even the same body. But one thing I wanted to make sure of is that I didn't necessarily fall into the trap of making their relationship a Jekyll/Hyde one.
Chris should be incorrigible, rude, even have a mean streak, but he shouldn't be evil. In some respects he should be likable, but only as long as it takes him to open his mouth and remind you just why you hate him as a person.
The problem with that, though, is that it leaves Charlie out on a limb. He's the protagonist, but by no means is he the nicest guy on the planet. Which means that when Charlie shows his mean streak, the line between he and Chris starts to blur. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but as I expanded on the story, I started to realize just how much both characters started to ride that "middle of the road" area.
So the solution (or a solution) to that is to make sure that Chris' base personality starts far enough down the pipeline of despicable that it's obvious that he isn't on the same page as Charlie. The danger of Chris becoming a caricature (which he shouldn't be) is my main concern there, but I think it's something I can handle.
And on the plus side, making the move lets me fix one of the plot holes from early on in the script. Because it means that Chris isn't above eliminating a witness that might later cause him problems. Which sets up a whole other scene that I haven't written yet, but that helps establish a few extra character traits for a few other people. So double bonus.
I know, I know. You're all, "We want to know more about the plot!" And you will. But not this time. That comes after I make sure that I know just what the plot is myself. Which is probably the nature of Part 2.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
A Matter of Perspective
It's interesting just how different things can be when you look at them from a alternate point of view. Mind you, the first obstacle to this is that one tends to be trapped in their own personal sphere of perception. That sounds all fancy, but all I mean by that is that we tend to get stuck in our own heads.
Let's face it. In the big show that is life, we tend to cast ourselves as the star. And why wouldn't we? We spend every waking moment seeing the world through our own eyes, after all. And no matter how low your ego gets, I'd hope that no one qualifies their existence only through the life of someone else (undying affections to various offspring notwithstanding). Really, you don't have much choice but to put the world into your own sphere. Be it comedy, tragedy, musical, drama or some quirky mix of them all.
But it does have its down side. For one, it's easy to fall into the trappings of being self-absorbed. I'm as big a victim of this as anyone (as any good friend of mine can attest to), and while it can be good to be involved primarily in self for brief periods of time, you run the risk of shutting yourself off so far that you become blind to what's going on around you.
Which leads me back to point of view. One can attest to the principles of empathy and sympathy all they'd like, but they are poor substitutes for a true sense of stepping outside of oneself.
For example, I just recently had an interesting exchange with an old friend of mine (actually, I’ve had several interesting exchanges with several different old friends, but those are other stories…). Back in the olden days (Is high school really considered that now? Sheesh…), I always considered them someone that I enjoyed hanging out with. Of course, from my perspective, I was a burden to be around (which isn’t necessarily untrue), so I valued any time they’d actually break down and hang out with me at all.
The crazy thing is that from their perspective, almost the opposite was true. They were the younger, fish out of water in the group who ended up being grateful to me for letting them into my sphere. Believe me when I say that had I not heard such a thing, it would never occur to me that anyone would even think I could wield enough influence to be excluding, let alone be grateful that I’d accept them into the fold. Honestly, most social subsets I’ve ever been a part of by default have no restrictions. If they did, I wouldn’t be a part of them.
But my point here is just how one’s own perception of self can blind you to what the truth of what the world might be. Aside from bizarre truths like the fact that most people were far more popular in high school than they ever realized (which is incredibly useful to know after you’ve graduated, by the way…), what other things have you overlooked in life? How many times have you brushed off an opportunity to meet someone new, thinking in your head that there’s no way that someone would want to talk to you when the truth is that same person might see you from across the room and think that you’d never be bothered to give them the time of day? Have you ever been so busy trying to figure out the right thing to say to someone in a time of need that you miss out on the fact that someone may just need a sympathetic ear? A hand to hold? Another person in the room?
I’m getting a bit off track here, but my point is this. We will never be perfect people. By default, we will always have our flaws, hang-ups, and imperfections. And no matter how observant we try to be, our focus will almost certainly always be mostly on ourselves. We are, generally speaking, the most important people in our lives. But it’s probably not a bad idea, every now and again, to take a look at the world, and especially ourselves in the world, from another set of eyes. You never know what you'll see there.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Why I Hate Letting Stuff Go...
(And no, this still isn't the uncomfortable explanation of what exactly went wrong with me last week.)
I've lived in my current neighborhood for going on four years now. I'd like to think that I know the area somewhat well. At the very least, I know it well enough to expect certain things. For example, I know that despite being lined, draped, and otherwise covered with overhanging trees, at least one knucklehead is going to set off every single piece of fireworks they can on the fourth of July. Now even if every single item used was legal to fire off in the city limits (and actually, none of them are), it still wouldn't be legal to fire them off on my block, and for some reason ridiculously close to my side of the street.
But you have to understand, I really wasn't in the mood nor was I so driven insane last week that I would try to stick my head out the door and indicate to anyone that they shouldn't be doing that (especially near my house). And while I'm sure that the police would eventually come if I called them, I'm also sure that since they're probably getting about a thousand reports of fireworks, shots fired, etc. that night, by the time they spun by my block any of the offenders would be gone.
So I let it go. I figure that they probably won't set anything on fire (or at least nothing that can't be put out), and it's just not worth the effort. What's the harm, right?
Cut to this morning as I come home from work (and yes, this is me coming home from work at 7:30 in the morning in light to medium spurts of rain). Since it is trash pickup day, I decide to make sure I roll my trashcan (which I had recently been cited for leaving at the curb too long) to the curb. And since it's also a recycling pickup day, I decided to roll my recycling bin (which wasn't picked up two weeks ago) closer to the curb, since I want to make sure they pick it up. For some reason, I thought the bin felt a little light, and for some reason that prompted me to take a look inside. After all, no point in rolling it anywhere if it's empty.
So imagine my surprise when I open the lid and find an assortment of used and partially wet fireworks containers inside. Yes, the knuckleheads that fired off all of that illegal crap the week before apparently decided to use my recycle can as a trash bin. And what's worse, I'm more than positive that, despite the fact that I've seen people load all kinds of crap that they technically aren't supposed to into their recycling cans, mine would be the one can that someone checked, found all this junk in, and systematically reported to whoever it is that would come out and fine me for improper use of said can (and probably want to try to fine me for illegal fireworks while they were at it).
So I ended up spending a few minutes this morning outside the front of my house, in the rain, transferring fireworks garbage (which oddly also contained a bird carcass) to my garbage can. Not exactly the highlight to my day that I wanted.
Of course, I don't know why it bothered me that much. It's not like I could have done much about it even if I had known about it. But darned if I don't fine it irritating when people go the extra mile to be as ignorant as possible in a situation.
I've lived in my current neighborhood for going on four years now. I'd like to think that I know the area somewhat well. At the very least, I know it well enough to expect certain things. For example, I know that despite being lined, draped, and otherwise covered with overhanging trees, at least one knucklehead is going to set off every single piece of fireworks they can on the fourth of July. Now even if every single item used was legal to fire off in the city limits (and actually, none of them are), it still wouldn't be legal to fire them off on my block, and for some reason ridiculously close to my side of the street.
But you have to understand, I really wasn't in the mood nor was I so driven insane last week that I would try to stick my head out the door and indicate to anyone that they shouldn't be doing that (especially near my house). And while I'm sure that the police would eventually come if I called them, I'm also sure that since they're probably getting about a thousand reports of fireworks, shots fired, etc. that night, by the time they spun by my block any of the offenders would be gone.
So I let it go. I figure that they probably won't set anything on fire (or at least nothing that can't be put out), and it's just not worth the effort. What's the harm, right?
Cut to this morning as I come home from work (and yes, this is me coming home from work at 7:30 in the morning in light to medium spurts of rain). Since it is trash pickup day, I decide to make sure I roll my trashcan (which I had recently been cited for leaving at the curb too long) to the curb. And since it's also a recycling pickup day, I decided to roll my recycling bin (which wasn't picked up two weeks ago) closer to the curb, since I want to make sure they pick it up. For some reason, I thought the bin felt a little light, and for some reason that prompted me to take a look inside. After all, no point in rolling it anywhere if it's empty.
So imagine my surprise when I open the lid and find an assortment of used and partially wet fireworks containers inside. Yes, the knuckleheads that fired off all of that illegal crap the week before apparently decided to use my recycle can as a trash bin. And what's worse, I'm more than positive that, despite the fact that I've seen people load all kinds of crap that they technically aren't supposed to into their recycling cans, mine would be the one can that someone checked, found all this junk in, and systematically reported to whoever it is that would come out and fine me for improper use of said can (and probably want to try to fine me for illegal fireworks while they were at it).
So I ended up spending a few minutes this morning outside the front of my house, in the rain, transferring fireworks garbage (which oddly also contained a bird carcass) to my garbage can. Not exactly the highlight to my day that I wanted.
Of course, I don't know why it bothered me that much. It's not like I could have done much about it even if I had known about it. But darned if I don't fine it irritating when people go the extra mile to be as ignorant as possible in a situation.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Abstract Thought of the Day
Nothing's stupider than rambling about the small amount of sleep you got for the past week, and then spending the first half of your day wondering to yourself why you're so tired for no reason.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Story of My Week
Man, it's been a week.
Mind you, when I say that, I don't by any stretch of the imagination mean to imply that there was a terrible tragedy in my life this week. In fact, I can honestly say that one could consider themselves blessed to have only had to deal with the particular brand of crazy that I have over the past week.
There are highlights to the insanity. In particular, the odd adventure of the apparently deaf/mute man who first borrowed my lawnmower while only half asking, then managed to get 10 bucks out of me (and I'm still not clear on what it was for), then finished it all off by banging on my door at 3AM that same night looking for more money (which I did not provide).
This was one of many different side trips and distractions that somehow left me worn, sleep deprived, and wondering just how I got through an entire week's worth of work without pulling my hair out. It probably helped that I got my hair cut this week, preventing it from being anywhere near grasping length.
But even though I had a few minor additional stress factors, an abnormal amount of physical fatigue, and at one point I entered a state of emotional instability that I hadn't hit since high school (which is as glorious as it sounds like it might be), I really feel like I accomplished some things this week. What, you ask?
1) I learned that, despite what I may have convinced myself over the course of several years, I am still capable of feeling major emotions. Mind you, that sword swings both ways, but it's still kind of refreshing to know that.
2) I learned that I still have a pretty handy set of friends around that have my back. Mind you, some of my friends have an awful tendency to be unavailable when I sometimes think I need them, but I have a fairly stable corps of people of varying backgrounds and experience, and somehow the combination was just enough to get me through some stuff. But then really, sometimes you just need an ear to listen.
3) I think, but I'm not completely certain, that I may have become a better friend myself. Maybe getting more in tune with myself just makes me more likely to do the same with others, but I'd like to think... no really hope... that if I haven't returned the favor of being there to someone yet, that I will at some point in the future.
4) When you fall asleep with your lights on, strange people will see that as an invitation to knock on your door at 3AM. Although to be fair, the last time a weirdo did that, I'm pretty sure all of my lights were off. There shouldn't be a lot of people doing that, you know?
So what now? I couldn't say. Honestly, I feel fairly good for someone that had the week I did. And while I know that I'm always just one rogue event away from entering yet another cycle of self doubt and/or anxiety, I feel like I should have a better grip on it now. And it's very rare to say that in the course of a week, you can actually feel like you may have grown as a person.
(Although I'm inclined to note, strictly for gambling purposes, that the over/under for this new enlightened age of being is 14 days. Man, Vegas will take odds on anything...)
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