Stupid Bears… Deline found her hands clenching into fists. “Don’t,” she warned Carrone. “Don’t. Don’t say that. Not the Bear, not the Fox, not the Lynx. Don’t.”
His head jerked up and his lips curled back in something that might have been meant to be a smile. “Is there anything else my lady would like to demand of me?”
“It’s not a demand, you bull-headed git. It’s advice. It might be – there are living bears and foxes, living lynx and elk, and sometimes those make us very angry. Or kill us,” she added more quietly. “But we don’t insult them. We don’t insult them because this is the county of the Bear, and because The Bear, The Fox, The Lynx, The Elk, all of them, they are here, and they listen.” Continue reading
“Are you there yet?”
The only things George was currently happy about could be listed on two clawed fingers: he was underground, and when he was not digging, he was getting tolerable and semi-regular meals.
“You started me five miles away. No, I’m not there yet. It’s only been three days and I’m not a miracle worker.”
He would have been politer – he HAD been politer the first sixteen times – but every time he had to answer, he had to stop digging.
“You’re an earth-Worker, though. A mole. Shouldn’t this go fast for you?” Continue reading
Ezer cleared his throat. “How likely is this to interfere with our business?”
“I think,” Senga admitted quietly, “that it’s already doing so. I think that whatever happened with that job the other day, it was probably family-related – my family. I mean, unless you or Allayne have come up with enemies lately that you haven’t told me about.”
“What about Chitter?” Erramun looked between the two of them, ignoring the staff for the moment.
Ezer snorted. “She just makes online enemies. They’d hack the house – one of them made the icemaker spew ice all over the kitchen once – but they don’t generally sink to attempted murder. They think it’s messy and sort of below them, I think.”
“Murder?” Candavish leaned forward. “You’re not speaking of Mirabella.” Continue reading
“I suggest,” Deline murmured, her voice as low and her body as still as she could manage,” that you try to stay relatively still until I move. Also, if you are prone to praying, now would be a good time for it.” Behind him, she move her hand very slowly towards the biggest cluster of berries. “And when I move – hold your breath. It would be a good idea to close your eyes, too.”
He grunted in the affirmative. She watched the bear, hungry and ponderous, shifting towards them as it sensed that they were actually prey. She could hear Carrone’s heartbeat, his breath that he was struggling to keep even. She got her hand as far as it would move under the cover of Carrone’s back.
Please, Mother Bear, she prayed again, and in one quick movement, she grabbed the berries, crushed them in her hand, and threw them at the bear’s eyes.
With her other hand she grabbed Carrone and hauled him backwards. They tumbled back together, running before they got turned around, and dove into the cave. Continue reading
“You think maybe Verve isn’t always going to be reading so maybe she can take a turn on dishes?”
“Afraid not,” Jenivere deadpanned back at him. “I am going to be reading until I die. That’s the problem with being a wizard — you literally can’t stop reading.”
She paused by the settee. One writer had spent a particularly long time describing this piece of furniture, in particular the way that is had cachobons set into the arms and three into the back of the piece. While the writer had not assumed they were magical in purpose or nature, such things had not been quite such common knowledge in the Harve i’s time.
She’d also ordered take-out from the one place willing to drive out to the middle of Nowhere and Cowsville, a pretty decent pizza-and-pub-food place in the nearest town. The pizza sat on the counter next to a soda; she wasn’t going to get pizza grease on Aunt Asta’s journals, even if she was subjecting them to heat, chemicals, and a light dabbing with distilled water.
The idea of OC-tober (here) is to create something featuring one of your OC’s as a listed creature. This is 6 of the first 7 days.
The alley hadn’t been any different from any other alley she’d found herself in: grubby, dark, lined with dumpsters, just out of sight of Leo and Zita doing… whatever it was they did.
When she’d turned around and seen a set of eyes that seemed to draw her in, her last conscious thought had been oh no, not again. Continue reading
It took them another fifteen minutes to calm Chitter down that time, during which the tea and coffee – and Chitter’s soda – arrived. The maid bringing the drinks made things either better or much worse by looking Chitter in the eye and apologizing for being late. “I had to feed the moat creature, you see.”
“Moat creature! Moat Creature! Wait…”
Five minutes later, Senga had managed to convince Chitter that there was no invisible moat and no moat creature. Five minutes after that, with Candavish’s amused help, they’d managed to calm her down.
“Honestly. You could have just told me that you were kidding,” she huffed.
“I believe I did. Twelve minutes ago. Although-” Continue reading
The Oalderapo had a tradition: If you indicated your intentions and nobody stopped you, you were free of any repercussions for those actions, unless the entire town suffered with you.
Over time, this had evolved: one could not, normally, simply say “I feel like killing the tzar” and have nobody stop you, but one could paint a very clear picture of one’s self killing said tzar and then wait twenty-four hours.
That had only happened once.
The next tzar had banned literal representations of crimes in paintings, sculptures, or drawings.
Three tzars later, interpretive dance and poetry of criminal act were banned.
One could go back to saying “I feel like killing the tzar tomorrow;” one could try to say it very sarcastically. One could write allegory, or plays.
Or one could run with idiom. For instance: Most ships where an Oalderapaline served had a ship painted on the starboard deck and a broom painted on the port. One could indicate by a simple game of hopscotch if one planned to jump ship or jump broom.
On the ship Epalanano, named for the tzar who had banned paintings, there was also a drawing of a grave, a nice one, and a piece of chalk, although the current Tzar’s name had taken up near-permanent residence.
Today, there was quite a bit of dancing.
Written to October 4th’s Thimbleful Thursday Prompt: https://thimblefulthursday.wordpress.com/2018/10/04/thimbleful-thursday-prompt-54/