Alexi sat in his office, slogging through paperwork and keeping half an eye on Shira, whom he had chained to the wall so he could get written. She probably spent all her time off with that dammed assassin, writing about death and gay porn. Well, she could damn well write him now, caught as she was by the short chains of the law. He smiled grimly, pulled some paperwork in front of him and waited for someone to come talk to him, be it Myrissin (hopefully) politicians (who seemed to be rather necessary, though he could do without the headache) or (*wince*) Roderick.
Ayla nervously knocked on Delta's door. "Um, hello? I heard that you needed, um, money for your, um, thing?"
The revolution has begun! By which I mean, uh, math dorks and busy engineering students are designing weapons of mass destruction while everyone sits around and wonders about Dalmatians and cookies. This can't end well...( Meet Darya!Collapse )
Dear Lovely People,
The Storycircle seems rather dead. Thus, I am sad.
Would anyone like to add any plot ideas? Perhaps if we continue the student revolutionary thing? I plan to be around over Thanksgiving, so maybe we could have more stay-up-until-one-in-the-morning-poisoni
ng-your-friends logs. Thanks, guys!
*steals Zoe's hat and runs off*
Another day, another revolutionary cabal.
"I think," said Ilsa, dreamily, "that we should sell poisoned tarts in the name of revolution." She looked significantly at the larger revolutionaries.[Micheal? Delta? Zoe or Shira, in whatever incarnation? Knock yourselves out.]
"I don't like fish either," Delta explained to the decreasingly patient waiter. If she went on for another four minutes, the waiter's patience would have decreased to one-sixteenth of its original amount, which would leave her with just enough time to ask about the specials before she got kicked out of the restaurant. She looked over at Micheal– whom she was 98.2 percent certain she could rationally consider her date– and pointed down at the menu. "I also don't like anything I can't pronounce, which accounts for four-fifths of the rest of the stuff on the menu. And the remaining fifth looks like it's all fish. Don't you have any
sandwiches? Or, failing that, things with jellyfish?"
Um. It was late. (It is
late.) This is part one of a tour of Ilsarya, third month of the year that this whole rigamarole is set in. Featuring a description of the magical system, however brief, wardrobe choices, teahouse gods, and insulting of wine snobs.( You're standing in the middle of a fictional city.Collapse )