hobgoblinn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hobgoblinn) wrote2007-08-31 09:22 pm
hobgoblinn) wrote2007-08-31 09:22 pm
Entry tags:
Two fragments, and Beta request
I'm posting two fragments behind the cut, mostly so they're easy to link to as backstory when I post my Ethan story for the Antique Roman ficathon. These are the two brief scenes featuring Ethan from last year's nano novel-- they hold up surprisingly well, even without the rest of the tale around them. I'm having fun taking my story from a whole new angle now; oddly, having to make it stand on its own has done wonders to the diction and pacing and everything else. I don't feel so bogged down following Everybody I've dragged in-- no documentary here, thanks-- or explaining everything endlessly.
Though maybe I got that out of my system last night....
Anyway, here they are. I'm also taking volunteers to beta this ficathon story-- should have a good completed Part 1 of 3 available on google documents by tomorrow. Send me your e-mail if I don't already have it and I'll add you to the list of people who can see, and mock, said document.
These fragments are fair game for mockery, of course, whether you choose to beta the other or not. Have at.
I'll screen this entry's comments to protect your email address privacy. If I figure out how.
Two Fragments:
The entry corridor to the mansion was impressive, in a dark, dank sort of way. As the man followed a demon butler through the maze of corridors, he wondered what it was about demons, that they preferred the dark? Bloody pretentious is what it was, the man thought. But a job was a job, and the man-- demon-- he’d come here to meet was reputed to be a major player in the transdimensional transportation industry. Not to mention the de facto ruler of the demon underworld from Wales to the Carpathian Mountains.
They emerged into an audience chamber lit by dozens of torches and two roaring fires in the humongous fireplaces at either end of the room. It once might have been a formal ballroom, the man thought, though now it looked like nothing so much as the old mead hall of Heorot, complete with a rather large fellow at one end, seated on a raised dais, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Grendel of legend. The man schooled his expression into one of impassive disdain.
The demon frowned dubiously at him as he approached the throne and stopped, well outside the reach of the black clawed hands. The man was surprised when the thing began to speak in a soft, surprisingly articulate voice. “I understand you are quite the sorcerer, Sir.”
The man shrugged. “I have enough power to suit my simple needs,” he replied with false modesty.
“Indeed. Perhaps you will have enough to suit mine, as well. You see, I have a certain delicate situation. There’s a certain girl I... want.”
The man gave an oily grin. “A demon of your obvious charms should not have any difficulty with that.”
The demon grinned himself, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth, like a piranha’s. The man’s grin faded ever so slightly. “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true, Mage. But this girl is somewhat... younger. And she has a Destiny.”
Destiny. Possibly the man’s least favorite word. One of the many reasons he’d chosen the life he had, and worshiped the god he did.
He pursed his lips. “Younger, eh? And what would you be wanting with a little girl?” Pedophiles were also low on his list of favorite things.
“Nothing so crass as what you’re imagining,” the demon replied, amused. “No, this girl’s destiny is such that it might cause me some... inconvenience. I’m a business-demon, you know. I’ve gotten where I am today by anticipating such difficulties, and overcoming them.”
The man nodded. “I see. So I’ll be killing the little chit then, will I?” Oddly, murder didn’t bother him nearly so much. But, “I’m not sure why you would need me for that. And, to be honest, it doesn’t sound terribly... fun.”
“Ah yes. I had heard you take assignments more for their entertainment value, these days. But no, I don’t want the dear child harmed. Quite the contrary. I wish to adopt her, lavish gifts and perfectly appropriate affection on her....”
“And keep her under your control, so as to circumvent that bothersome destiny of hers,” the man finished, studying his fingernails in a bored sort of way. He glanced up and gave a wolfish grin. “You’re a regular Daddy Warbucks aren’t you? But I’m still not seeing the entertainment value here. I hate ‘Tomorrow’.”
The demon chuckled appreciatively. “A man after my own heart,” he growled, still grinning in an unsettling way. “Here’s the bit that might interest you. She seems to have either powerful magical protection from an unknown source, or extraordinary good luck. Two attempts to... um, invite her here have failed. And now, she and her mother have gone and put themselves under the protection of the Watchers Council.”
The man’s eyes showed a flicker of interest then, quickly hidden. “Well, that is a bit inconvenient... for you,” he said with studied indifference.
“I understand, in fact,” the demon pressed his advantage, “that none other than the great Rupert Giles himself has taken a personal interest in their welfare.”
The man blinked. His eyes narrowed. This demon was either not as jovially stupid as he looked, or else he was remarkably well informed. He said casually, “Has he indeed? What has that to do with me?”
The demon grinned, knowing the hook was well and truly set. “I think you know exactly what it means to you, Mr. Rayne. I want this girl, and I want her fast. All my resources will be at your disposal.” The demon pulled a cigar from the box on the table beside him and a minion standing nearby rushed forward to light it. He puffed reflectively, then said, “All I ask is that you do something-- artistic.”
****
Ethan Rayne gazed around the chaos which was his study-- books piled haphazardly on the desk, the couch, the coffee table-- along with several parchment scrolls, and even some ancient clay tablets with cuneiform markings on them. He sniffed disdainfully. Research, as far as he was concerned, was at best a necessary evil. But it did have occasional rewards. He glanced down at the acid burn on his arm, where he had once borne the Mark of Eyghon. He wasn’t sure that had been a reward, exactly, though it had had its moments. But all the unpredictable chaos which had come from those late nights doing research, and other things, with Ripper-- well, it had pleased his eventual deity, at any rate. Just as he hoped this new venture woulld.
He let his eyes wander over the various surfaces and shelves, making an automatic invocation to Janus not unlike the “St. Anthony” prayer he’d learned in childhood for finding lost objects, but without the annoying doggerel.
And then, his eyes just happened to light on a particular book on a low shelf. He crossed the room, knelt, and pulled it from its place, dislodging quite a large quantity of dust in the process. Housekeeping which involved any effort on his part didn’t even rate the necessary part of “necessary evil.” A slow smile spread across his angular features. Something artistic, was it? This had possibilities.
****
Though maybe I got that out of my system last night....
Anyway, here they are. I'm also taking volunteers to beta this ficathon story-- should have a good completed Part 1 of 3 available on google documents by tomorrow. Send me your e-mail if I don't already have it and I'll add you to the list of people who can see, and mock, said document.
These fragments are fair game for mockery, of course, whether you choose to beta the other or not. Have at.
I'll screen this entry's comments to protect your email address privacy. If I figure out how.
Two Fragments:
The entry corridor to the mansion was impressive, in a dark, dank sort of way. As the man followed a demon butler through the maze of corridors, he wondered what it was about demons, that they preferred the dark? Bloody pretentious is what it was, the man thought. But a job was a job, and the man-- demon-- he’d come here to meet was reputed to be a major player in the transdimensional transportation industry. Not to mention the de facto ruler of the demon underworld from Wales to the Carpathian Mountains.
They emerged into an audience chamber lit by dozens of torches and two roaring fires in the humongous fireplaces at either end of the room. It once might have been a formal ballroom, the man thought, though now it looked like nothing so much as the old mead hall of Heorot, complete with a rather large fellow at one end, seated on a raised dais, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Grendel of legend. The man schooled his expression into one of impassive disdain.
The demon frowned dubiously at him as he approached the throne and stopped, well outside the reach of the black clawed hands. The man was surprised when the thing began to speak in a soft, surprisingly articulate voice. “I understand you are quite the sorcerer, Sir.”
The man shrugged. “I have enough power to suit my simple needs,” he replied with false modesty.
“Indeed. Perhaps you will have enough to suit mine, as well. You see, I have a certain delicate situation. There’s a certain girl I... want.”
The man gave an oily grin. “A demon of your obvious charms should not have any difficulty with that.”
The demon grinned himself, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth, like a piranha’s. The man’s grin faded ever so slightly. “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true, Mage. But this girl is somewhat... younger. And she has a Destiny.”
Destiny. Possibly the man’s least favorite word. One of the many reasons he’d chosen the life he had, and worshiped the god he did.
He pursed his lips. “Younger, eh? And what would you be wanting with a little girl?” Pedophiles were also low on his list of favorite things.
“Nothing so crass as what you’re imagining,” the demon replied, amused. “No, this girl’s destiny is such that it might cause me some... inconvenience. I’m a business-demon, you know. I’ve gotten where I am today by anticipating such difficulties, and overcoming them.”
The man nodded. “I see. So I’ll be killing the little chit then, will I?” Oddly, murder didn’t bother him nearly so much. But, “I’m not sure why you would need me for that. And, to be honest, it doesn’t sound terribly... fun.”
“Ah yes. I had heard you take assignments more for their entertainment value, these days. But no, I don’t want the dear child harmed. Quite the contrary. I wish to adopt her, lavish gifts and perfectly appropriate affection on her....”
“And keep her under your control, so as to circumvent that bothersome destiny of hers,” the man finished, studying his fingernails in a bored sort of way. He glanced up and gave a wolfish grin. “You’re a regular Daddy Warbucks aren’t you? But I’m still not seeing the entertainment value here. I hate ‘Tomorrow’.”
The demon chuckled appreciatively. “A man after my own heart,” he growled, still grinning in an unsettling way. “Here’s the bit that might interest you. She seems to have either powerful magical protection from an unknown source, or extraordinary good luck. Two attempts to... um, invite her here have failed. And now, she and her mother have gone and put themselves under the protection of the Watchers Council.”
The man’s eyes showed a flicker of interest then, quickly hidden. “Well, that is a bit inconvenient... for you,” he said with studied indifference.
“I understand, in fact,” the demon pressed his advantage, “that none other than the great Rupert Giles himself has taken a personal interest in their welfare.”
The man blinked. His eyes narrowed. This demon was either not as jovially stupid as he looked, or else he was remarkably well informed. He said casually, “Has he indeed? What has that to do with me?”
The demon grinned, knowing the hook was well and truly set. “I think you know exactly what it means to you, Mr. Rayne. I want this girl, and I want her fast. All my resources will be at your disposal.” The demon pulled a cigar from the box on the table beside him and a minion standing nearby rushed forward to light it. He puffed reflectively, then said, “All I ask is that you do something-- artistic.”
****
Ethan Rayne gazed around the chaos which was his study-- books piled haphazardly on the desk, the couch, the coffee table-- along with several parchment scrolls, and even some ancient clay tablets with cuneiform markings on them. He sniffed disdainfully. Research, as far as he was concerned, was at best a necessary evil. But it did have occasional rewards. He glanced down at the acid burn on his arm, where he had once borne the Mark of Eyghon. He wasn’t sure that had been a reward, exactly, though it had had its moments. But all the unpredictable chaos which had come from those late nights doing research, and other things, with Ripper-- well, it had pleased his eventual deity, at any rate. Just as he hoped this new venture woulld.
He let his eyes wander over the various surfaces and shelves, making an automatic invocation to Janus not unlike the “St. Anthony” prayer he’d learned in childhood for finding lost objects, but without the annoying doggerel.
And then, his eyes just happened to light on a particular book on a low shelf. He crossed the room, knelt, and pulled it from its place, dislodging quite a large quantity of dust in the process. Housekeeping which involved any effort on his part didn’t even rate the necessary part of “necessary evil.” A slow smile spread across his angular features. Something artistic, was it? This had possibilities.
****