Anecdotes

Anecdote XLVI. The Fog of Doubt

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At first, Lask did not want to hope for his wings– he dared not indulge in the excitement of “if it works…” and instead, busied himself with the science and magic of what it would take to resurrect the decades-dead flesh and reattach it in working order. He consulted his friends and allies, the Library, his contacts in the city, and eventually found the concoction he needed. It was the ingredients that would prove tricky. Some, he had on hand, some could be made for him, others would prove more difficult: the poison used on him, grown from a black more »

Anecdotes

Anecdote XXXVII. Humanity is Contagious

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Before I turned 26, Lask killed an Ancient Demon. It was the end of January 2016, and the culmination of many months of careful planning, recon, and ally-wrangling. I imagine I’ll post the prose of their exploits at some point, so you can read for yourself how the island came to be under siege, how Stefin raised a mighty army of converted Demons, and how Lask stole the fire of an Ancient Demon from Times Before. It’s all very exciting, but there’s two things that stick out to me as personal, lasting, implications: One, in stealing the Demon’s fire, Lask more »

Anecdotes

Anecdote XXXV. A Hall of Mirrors

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Many things were said recently that struck me, making panes of reflective glass vibrate in my head. “Can we do Monday instead?” “Why do you do that?” “Nothing I say is going to matter.” “That’s toxic.” “I don’t NEED you!” “Do you think she needs hospitalization?” “I guess we should sleep.” “She’s very unusual.” “See you Tuesday, then.” Spoken by various people, not all directly about me, but all things that somehow caused me to pause. I’ve realized what it’s like: it’s like living in a hall of mirrors. I, for some reason, pour my effort into reflections– giving people more »

Anecdotes

Anecdote XXXIV. Just a Dream

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August 1st, 2016  It was dark as an inkwell when I woke to the sound of labored breathing. Something struggled nearby, shaking my bed. As I came to, I realized it was Lask beside me. He was asleep on his side with his bare back to me, twitching and tensing in his sleep. A low, plaintive sound escaped him as he curled himself, hauling on the covers. I turned to face him, realizing he was in the grip of a nightmare, and reached out to touch him. I had only brushed my fingers along his shoulder blade when he cried more »

Anecdotes

Anecdotes XXXII. They Followed Me Home

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November 5th, 2014 • Avigdell  Giemm glowered through the bars of the gate at the gunslinger. Wyatt had one of his guns drawn and trained on the bird’s feathered brow. Behind the newcomer, two warmongers milled nearer the tree line, watching with bared teeth. “Where is he?” Giemm pressed. “He’s here,” Wyatt answered. “I’ve called for Lask. He’ll decide what to do with you. Don’t know about lettin’ in Demon cronies.” “Crony!” Giemm squawked, hackles bristling. “I am his Key Keeper, his right hand–” “Can it, Feathers,” growled Wyatt, hand staying toward his other gun. “Don’t shoot him!” bellowed a more »