(no subject)

[inthebones]

[phone]
Oh, marvelous, it's August again.  My favorite time of the year.

Students, I hope you've been working on your summer assignments.  Adult men, I hope you're prepared to be perfect gentlemen when we all find ourselves floundering in that ghastly hotel.  Anything else to expect this month?  No?  On to business, then.

I'm sure we're all very distracted by talking pony parties and pool parties and platter parties and inpourings of perpetually perplexed new populations, but has anyone made any effort whatsoever to sort out that business from last month or are we still playing the game where we ignore all interesting information in favor of smashing random objects we find in the dairy?  I don't mind that game; of course, quite invigorating, good for the vasculature, but it might be worth trying a different approach at some point in time.  I venture to suggest today, if no one's too busy holding competitions to see who looks the most absurd absent their clothing.

[action, 726 Anderson Lane]
[Susan can be found hanging up black cloaks and other assorted clothing in uniform crepuscular shades around the house where garish green was all there was formerly to see.  A welcome change, in her opinion; she'd missed her wardrobe from home, even if everything looked exactly the same as the black cloak she had commissioned here in Mayfield.

Still, she pauses for a moment as she handles an emerald-green cloak, never worn, hanging in the hall closet since the previous Christmas.  ...It goes back on the rack after a bit.  And she'll only push it back behind the others an inch or two.]

[action, park]
[A rather unusual sight in the park later on that week.  Somehow, Miss Susan the English teacher has been cajoled into reading a nice story for a small group of drones.]

And so, adding conspiracy and first-degree murder to their trespass and property damage charges, Hansel and Gretel pushed the old woman into the oven and ignored her anguished screams as they left the house of gingerbread, naturally taking all of her valuables with them as they went.  With these illicit goods, they reunited with their criminally negligent father, but not, surprisingly, their 'wicked' stepmother, who had mysteriously vanished in the space of the two nights in which the children were gone, leaving the father sole keeper of his property and remaining funds and raising suspicion as to who it was had devised the plan to leave the children in the forest in the first place.

But it doesn't matter, because they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

[The drones seem quite pleased with her recitation, at any rate.]

Comments

[inthebones]

I assure you it's quite natural for the both of us. To state the obvious, your soul is perfectly intact. If you need more convincing, I can remove it for you if you'd like, so you can see what actually happens when you're dead first-hand.

And yes, he did, several times, but the important thing is that he's dead back in the Disc.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

If 'soul' is connected to the 'heart' - I've been informed I don't have one.

[He's not trying to be argumentative. This is just too close to religion for his taste. But her last comment gets him thinking.]

So if you die here you can still live at home, but if you die at home you die here... interesting.

[inthebones]

No, that's not it at all. Mayfield isn't connected to our worlds temporally - Teatime came here from a time before he was killed.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock tilts his head, considering the information.]

So, even if someone from my reality were to come here, it could from any point in their time-line. So, they might come here and though I know them, they may not know me.

[Interesting, but depressing.]

[inthebones]

Or the other way around. They could come from your future and tell you all sorts of unpleasant things you'd really prefer not to know.

Bearing in mind, of course, that it might not be your future.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock rubs his temples.]

Okay, that might be a bit too much, even for my brain. How do normal people survive here, knowing all of that?

[Because he's starting to wonder if maybe being dim would be better in this world.]

[inthebones]

That's the second thing humans are rather prodigious at. Surviving. We're more like cockroaches than cockroaches, or so I hear Grandfather say.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Well, most humans certainly have the intelligence of a cockroach.

[Which isn't saying much.]

[inthebones]

((You've responded to this twice with different comments! I'm going to assume you meant to delete your first one; let me know if you wanted something different.))

No, cockroaches have enough sense not to push big red buttons that say 'end of the world switch'.

Ugh! I usually delete emails once I've responded, didn't this time :S

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock smirks at that.]

You have big red buttons that are labeled "End of the World Switch"... Interesting. And your cockroaches can apparently read and see in color. Most interesting.

[He might be mocking her now, just a bit.]

[inthebones]

You'd be surprised how many they leave lying around.

[Susan responds with perfect dignity.]

You'd be equally surprised what animals can be capable of when you're not paying close attention.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

It is.... not a matter of paying attention or not. It's a matter of cogitative and biological abilities.

[inthebones]

Shall I repeat the part where I'm related to Death, and my world is a flat disc carried on the back of four elephants?

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Fine. Your cockroaches might be somewhat intelligent. The one's I'm used to seeing are not.

[Yes, that's totally a pout.]

[inthebones]

Oh, no, I'm just making fun. Sentient cockroaches, goodness. What a peculiar thought.

[Susan responds without a trace of a smile.]

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Not cool, Susan. Sherlock doesn't like his lack of emotions toyed with like that.]

Yes well,I've seen all sorts of 'peculiar' things here.

[inthebones]

Peculiar talking ponies, anyway.

...Returning to the original subject, shall I tell Grandfather he ought to expect you?

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[He looks thoughtful.]

Can he tell me the future? Nothing big, just if my plan works or not? If I survive the jump if I'm not dead...

[inthebones]

He's not the Death of your world. I'm afraid you'll simply have to trust in yourself.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[He looks smug now. He got her.]

Precisely. So, if you're not from my world, how can you be so sure I'm not dead?

[inthebones]

Simply because I'm not in charge of your lifetimer doesn't mean I can't tell if your soul is still attached or not.

I suppose you might come from a world where departed souls can be reattached to the wrong bodies, but I doubt it.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[He... isn't sure.]

What would Death offer that you haven't?

[Other than meeting the other death. Other than doing what his housemate suggested.]

[inthebones]

Appearances are important. Meeting the real thing is much more impressive than a schoolteacher who wears a lot of black.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock smiles.]

I can't argue with that logic.

[Well, the appearances being important, anyway.]

[inthebones]

That, and Didi might have some more insights to offer. I don't know quite how she does it.