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bear by san

March 2017



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problem cat

there's no such thing as an original sin.

Well, since the first chapter of Dust mugged me at the gym yesterday, and I have to start revising New Amsterdam tomorrow in an absolute screaming hurry (due Christmas Eve). I'm trying to get the first scene written.

Do you realize that I am trying to write hardcore s1ngularity-fic in High Fantasy cod-medieval idiom?

Whose fucken idea was this?

Oh, right.


...pass the sherry.


Do you realize that I am trying to write hardcore s1ngularity-fic in High Fantasy cod-medieval idiom?

That Line Right There is like an IV-full of everything I like. Wee!

Whose fucken idea was this?

Oh, right.


*mocks you intensely in the most affectionate way imaginable*
Here, have a taste of the very rough cut.

Rien knew the naked girl was of noble blood by her chains. They writhed at her wrists, quicksilver loops of nanotech costlier than rubies and more rare, forestalling any untoward transformations.

The girl was tall, almost sexless in her slenderness and anything but sensual. Her bony face was square, and tired sweat stuck her dirt-brown hair to her cheeks and shoulders. Her bare feet were narrow and elegant.

Rien could not see her hands through the twisting chains, but judged they must be the same. Nobody would waste chains like that on a Mean, when mere plastic would serve for the task. And then there the way she bore herself, strong shameless steps that swept the nanotech across the floor behind her like silken swags.

Furthermore, the prisoner was escorted in by a half-dozen soldiers with beam weapons slung across ablative armor carapaces, faces concealed under closed and tinted masks.

The girl--no older than Rien, though far more beautiful--was Family, and when Rien drew back among the other upstairs maids, twisting her polishing cloth between her hands, she felt Head's hand on her left shoulder. She turned and whispered. "Will there be war?"

Head squeezed, and the pain was a comfort. "When isn't there? Don’t worry, girl. We're beneath soldiers. It never touches us."

Rien's mouth made an O. "Who's she then?"

Head's hand slid down Rein's sloping shoulder and brushed her elbow when it dropped. "Percival. They'll want her well-fed once she's in her cell."

The chained girl's eyes swept over the room like search lights. Rien dropped her gaze when that stare seared over her.

Head cleared her throat. "You can do it."

Care for the prisoner. Not a job for an upstairs maid. Not a job for a mere girl. "But--"

"Hush," said Head.

And Rien had run clear of words, anyway. For when the girl Percival passed, back still straight as a dangled rope, chin lifted and eyes wide, Rien saw what she had not before.

From the gashes between her shoulder blades, two golden ropes of blood groped down her back, across her spine. They writhed when they touched each other, twisted and retracted and groped in different directions, like hungry searching ants.

Fruitlessly. The wings they sought had been severed. Permanently, judging by the way the Lord's daughter Ariane strode beside the captive, her unblade bumping her thigh.

Its name was Innocence, and it was very old.

Rien raised her hand to her mouth and bit at the skin across the bones as the mutilated angel was led through the hall, down the stair, and away.

Mmmmmmmm, yes.
Allow me to clarify:

Mmmmmmm, yesyesyes. Yessss.

Something like that.
Hee. baby, you know what I like....

Oh...the potential for doom.

Happy, happy doom...
*passes you the sherry*

(*hug* THANK YOU!)
Absolutely my pleasure, I assure you.
Well, I don't have any sherry, but if you are interested, I've got something in excess of 30,000 calories of not-quite assembled peanutbutter and chocolate candies on my kitchen table. Maybe I should go somewhere where they have sherry and not so much candy.
Alas. Sherry has a great many calories too.
yes, but it isn't two big icecream tubs full of proto-buuckeyes.
From a user interface design perspective, using high fantasy tropes with extremely high tech makes sense. A sufficiently good design making use of vivid, memorable imagery and exploiting the human capacity for magical thinking could be quite effective.