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picowrimo2015-07-17 01:06 am
elmey.livejournal.com) wrote in picowrimo2015-07-17 01:06 am
Pico, Day 17
Here's today's post for your snippets, comments, thoughts.
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I think I may have come to the end of Mission Day 12! Yay! At least, I managed to explain some stuff, and calm everybody down, and reach a stopping point. I think. I hope.
Here it is, the last bit of Day 12:
Here it is, the last bit of Day 12:
Noah's Ghost, Personal Log, Mission Day: 12 - continued
I holstered my blaster then, since it seemed pointless to threaten someone who honestly didn't care if she lived or died.
"What are you?"
"Time Lord," she said.
"Time Lords are a myth," I said.
"Oh please." She rolled her eyes. "Dalek ship, Dalek doomsday device, and you're quibbling about Time Lords? Really, Jay, I thought you were more intelligent than that."
"Doomsday device? What makes you think it was a doomsday device?"
She counted the points on her fingers. "It was leaking Time. It reacted to the presence of a Time Lord. And I'd seen something similar before, in the War. The worst thing is, I wasn't able to destroy it before it sounded the alarm."
"The alarm to what or who?"
"Any other remnants of Dalek technology that survived. Other doomsday devices. Daleks in hiding. That thing sent a signal through time and space. It sent it to anything that's listening."
Her certainty sent a shiver down my spine. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't," she said flatly. "I can't imagine what I could do do convince you." She leaned back against the wall. "But it doesn't matter, since the universe is doomed anyway."
"You destroyed the device."
"There will be others," she said. "Ours, theirs, it doesn't matter."
"Ours?"
"The Daleks invented a weapon that destroys matter. The Time Lords weren't going to be outdone; we invented something that destroys Time itself. Neither side was ever going to surrender. We would rather destroy the universe."
"Well, you're obviously wrong, since the universe is still here."
"A universe with myths about the Time War, about Time Lords and Daleks. Echoes of things that didn't happen. Shockwaves of a paradox which caused both sides to un-exist, almost. The key word is 'almost'. I exist. That Dalek ship exists. And if we exist, the war is not over. Just paused. A breath before the end of everything."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine!" I said sarcastically. "What you need is rest, therapy, and a good shag. Not necessarily in that order."
She laughed weakly. "My sexual orientation is still celibate, Jay."
Somewhere between her laugh and her despair. I had come to believe her. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Romanadvoratrelundartetikelpresodiagaliacha... though I suppose it's just Romanadvoratrelundartetik now. Or just Romana. I used to hate being called Romana; as if they were treating me like a child. But Romana is much more practical if one is adventuring; much easier to yell if one is in need of help."
"Well, Romana, welcome aboard Noah's Ghost. I think we both need to sleep." I waved her out of the room. "As my mother used to say, it will all look better in the morning." I hoped I was right about that.
Edited 2015-07-17 11:39 (UTC)
Oh, so it is Romana, after all! Which one? And has the difference between the names any meaning? Sorry, the only Romana episode i've seen is Shada.
I got sideswiped by work yesterday, but am back on track this morning. Snippet is once again Angelique, though I guess at this point I should tell you (if you haven't noticed already) that she's what you might call an unreliable narrator ;)
"I believe we decided we never met like that."
I ignored the interruption. "I took you to Anouk's." I thought back, it was there that everything changed. I looked at him, he was watching me, something almost kind in his eyes. I took a deep breath. No, the change wasn't there: from the beginning; he wasn't real from the very beginning, just an actor all along.
"Why?"
"You know why, it was a job."
"What's real about you Illya? Are you just a shell filled with whatever your Uncle needs? What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"Oh Madeleine, I don't need to look in the mirror to know who I am." He leaned over and drew his thumb across my cheek; it felt like a sigh and I was too surprised to pull away.
"I believe we decided we never met like that."
I ignored the interruption. "I took you to Anouk's." I thought back, it was there that everything changed. I looked at him, he was watching me, something almost kind in his eyes. I took a deep breath. No, the change wasn't there: from the beginning; he wasn't real from the very beginning, just an actor all along.
"Why?"
"You know why, it was a job."
"What's real about you Illya? Are you just a shell filled with whatever your Uncle needs? What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"Oh Madeleine, I don't need to look in the mirror to know who I am." He leaned over and drew his thumb across my cheek; it felt like a sigh and I was too surprised to pull away.
Romana! that's quite nice :) things are starting to become clearer. And very worrying too.
Unreliable is such a harsh word! She is creative!
Last full day in Linz. Brain half-boiled, but still alive. Today's adventures, as always, posted to my journal.
A busy day, involving lots of travelling followed by a long walk with a break for pizza in the middle, but I did manage to read over the next scene (still not sure whether it merits a chapter all to itself). Rupert is on his way back and it's raining again:
Within minutes Rupert's jacket was as wet as it had been before their stop, but Quinn seemed to be picking his feet up a little higher. Rupert was unsure whether that was because of his rest, an increase in energy from the time he'd spent cropping the coarse moorland grass, or because he knew they were heading back towards their camp site. Whatever the reason, the horse's determination kept his rider from sinking into despair at the cold, or at the partial failure of his mission.
Although he had found that grave, Rupert reminded himself. Nowhere in his reading had he come across any reference to it, or even a hint that any member of his family had been buried up at Derwentdale Hall rather than in the churchyards of Lower and Upper Pemberley. His sketchbook was safely stowed in a waterproof compartment of his rucksack, and he was certain Papa would want to visit the site for himself once he'd seen the evidence and heard the tale of how Rupert had discovered it.
Within minutes Rupert's jacket was as wet as it had been before their stop, but Quinn seemed to be picking his feet up a little higher. Rupert was unsure whether that was because of his rest, an increase in energy from the time he'd spent cropping the coarse moorland grass, or because he knew they were heading back towards their camp site. Whatever the reason, the horse's determination kept his rider from sinking into despair at the cold, or at the partial failure of his mission.
Although he had found that grave, Rupert reminded himself. Nowhere in his reading had he come across any reference to it, or even a hint that any member of his family had been buried up at Derwentdale Hall rather than in the churchyards of Lower and Upper Pemberley. His sketchbook was safely stowed in a waterproof compartment of his rucksack, and he was certain Papa would want to visit the site for himself once he'd seen the evidence and heard the tale of how Rupert had discovered it.
Edited 2015-07-17 20:54 (UTC)
Your mother is intrepid to be doing all this hiking! And so are you :) It's not usually that hot there is it? Good thing you found that bakery!
I see Rupert has no clue what consternation he's causing at home. I'm curious what Edward's reaction to Rupert's find will be.
Aha, so my stab in the dark was right! Jack & Romana make an excellent duo, such different personalities.
Hurrah for back on trackness! "Are you just a shell filled with whatever your Uncle needs? What do you see when you look in the mirror?" / "...I don't need to look in the mirror to know who I am." is a wonderful exchange.
Kudos for keep checking back with us wordslaves, in the midst of all this enjoying yourself :)
Kudos for keeping some time for writing, under difficult circumstances. The contrast between Rupert quietly returning and the ongoing efforts to locate him is probably going to make for fireworks when the two parties coincide!
I have to admit that this is a leading conversation to set up my ending--if things work out the way I planned.
I really like writing dialogue, probably too much. That's the area where I really have to cut & slash in the final edit.
I really like writing dialogue, probably too much. That's the area where I really have to cut & slash in the final edit.
Yes, in her own way, she certainly is :)
I had a good night last night, after posting -- 750 words! Plus a bit of thinking about the upcoming scene; I'd earlier decided to change around how it will play out so I can fit in the scene I'm now writing. This evening has been a write-off, we were invited out for drinks and now I'm feeling tired, but hopefully I can refind the momentum tomorrow. Most of the good new words are spoilerific, but have a carefully snipped bit...
...‘Yesterday,’ I went. ‘I should have…’ but before I could strain the usual words through my teeth, Cobweb started to sob. They were like last night’s tears as much as a sunfish is like a starfish, and they went on for another of those centuries that probably wasn’t.
‘He never told me,’ she howled. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. She snivelled a bit and pulled out a hankie with a wide border of scalloped lace that put me in mind of Pebble’s and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. She scrumpled the fancy linen in her fist then thought better of it and straightened it out a little. ‘I thought you might know.’
...‘Yesterday,’ I went. ‘I should have…’ but before I could strain the usual words through my teeth, Cobweb started to sob. They were like last night’s tears as much as a sunfish is like a starfish, and they went on for another of those centuries that probably wasn’t.
‘He never told me,’ she howled. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. She snivelled a bit and pulled out a hankie with a wide border of scalloped lace that put me in mind of Pebble’s and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. She scrumpled the fancy linen in her fist then thought better of it and straightened it out a little. ‘I thought you might know.’
Edited 2015-07-17 23:18 (UTC)
That sounds like you are making good progress with your structuring work. It shows that you like writing dialogue -- your dialogue really shines.
260 words on the pub scene I had hoped to finish last night. It's not quite done yet. There needs to be revelations.
***
The throng at the bar was thinning. Most were outside again, laughter a little louder, balance less steady. John reached across the table and poured half of Sherlock’s bitter into his glass. When he set it down again, Sherlock was at the bar, just behind the man who had been there when they first came in. John wondered if he was dating the barman.
Sherlock popped a few peanuts in his mouth as he sauntered towards the table and sat down. “They play poker together,” he said, leaning across the table to give John the rest of the packet.
“I see,” John said, but he did not see, except that Sherlock had understood what he was thinking from across the room. John pictured the most lascivious thing he could imagine and stared straight at Sherlock.
Sherlock didn’t look away. “We could skip the kebab,” he said.
“I’ll pass out if I don’t eat some actual food soon,” John replied, thinking that that manoeuvre had back-fired.
“We’ll get it to go,” Sherlock said, standing. “But keep that position in mind.”
John finished his ale and wondered how Sherlock could possibly know that.
Sherlock winked at John from the open door before he swirled out. John banged his glass down and followed.
***
The throng at the bar was thinning. Most were outside again, laughter a little louder, balance less steady. John reached across the table and poured half of Sherlock’s bitter into his glass. When he set it down again, Sherlock was at the bar, just behind the man who had been there when they first came in. John wondered if he was dating the barman.
Sherlock popped a few peanuts in his mouth as he sauntered towards the table and sat down. “They play poker together,” he said, leaning across the table to give John the rest of the packet.
“I see,” John said, but he did not see, except that Sherlock had understood what he was thinking from across the room. John pictured the most lascivious thing he could imagine and stared straight at Sherlock.
Sherlock didn’t look away. “We could skip the kebab,” he said.
“I’ll pass out if I don’t eat some actual food soon,” John replied, thinking that that manoeuvre had back-fired.
“We’ll get it to go,” Sherlock said, standing. “But keep that position in mind.”
John finished his ale and wondered how Sherlock could possibly know that.
Sherlock winked at John from the open door before he swirled out. John banged his glass down and followed.
And if we exist, the war is not over. Just paused. A breath before the end of everything."
That's beautifully-phrased.
That's beautifully-phrased.
It's another great exchange. Is she really trying to figure him out or make him doubt himself?
I'm glad you survived. You have to be careful in the heat!
It doesn't sound like Rupert thinks he's causing anyone any worry. Did he leave a message about his plans that didn't reach Edward?
That's terrific progress! And drinks of a Friday night are nice, too.
After 750 more words yesterday, you deserve drinks out tonight, I hope you had a good time :)
Tears and a hankie, the PI's worst nightmare!
Tears and a hankie, the PI's worst nightmare!
John's not the only one who's wondering :) And he'd better watch himself or he'll never get to that kebab . You're going in an unexpected direction. Are you thinking this may become part of the Experiments series?
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