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Oh, was that where I was Going With That, then? - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
robling_t
robling_t
Oh, was that where I was Going With That, then?
Muse pulled this bit back at the last minute for a near-total rethink and then suddenly decided to finish it up just now instead of letting me find my trousers for knitting-group, hence the absence of an installment last week and the rather random timing of this one; maybe it'll be more congenial for the Readers than her recent attempts at Monday-posting, at any rate. God only knows what she has in mind for the next bit in the queue, which is The Bit I've Been Hiding Behind The Sofa From Writing... {shudder}

I'm not sure if there's another gap here, BTW -- how is this thing looking when y'all step back from what's been posted so far, is there a sense developing of reasonably intact and developing character throughlines?


***
Jill's a low-level art something at an advert firm. She's sketching a face on a napkin when I sit down.

It's you, she says when I ask.

Still a reflex, to glance over at the darkened window reflecting a woman sitting alone at this table. Where the women are gorgeous and the men are short and rat-faced, as Jason says, I remark.

The face isn't ringing any bells at all.

I know the hair, at least. It's in my eyes again, bastard offspring of a haystack and a hedge. Her few dark slashes of graphite capture it too well. I'll have to ask Jason to take the shears to it soon.

(I'm obviously not mad about barbershops.)

She's intrigued by the story of how Jason and I had quietly gone out and solved the neighbourhood's issue with the rooster, although I wonder if she isn't rather missing the moral. "Wish I had a roommate who'd bring me home chickens."

"It's not nearly as glamourous as I may have made it out to be," I say, stirring more sugar into my tea.

"He worries about you." I shrug. Jason is Jason, whatever his shape, but sometimes life does seem simpler to him. Particularly my life. "It's sweet."

"Not for the chicken."

Jill shifts restlessly, shoulders hunching the neat line of her arterial-red jacket. "It's a little different for you, though. People think it's a little weird when you only take a bite out of their arm."

Desultory mentions of her frustrations at work suddenly snap into a new focus. "Our sort of a 'rough day', then."

Jill stirs at the remains of her coffee, then lays the spoon down on the tray again without taking a sip. "I guess I need a distraction," she admits. "Do you want to..." She trails off, cocking her head. "Well, damn it. I was going to say 'go for a drink or something', but I guess we can't exactly do anything that normal, can we."

The last time I'd seen the inside of a club here I'd had to submit to the indignity of having a black X scrawled on the back of my hand so I couldn't try to buy alcohol. I fed from someone who could prove their age, and ended up trying to cuddle strangers for the better part of three days. Since then I've been rather off the idea of even trying. "There are deer," I find myself saying to her. "Erm, at the nature centre? Maybe we could..."

She's game.

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Comments
ljgeoff From: ljgeoff Date: March 17th, 2011 03:26 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
She's game.

::groans::

I love where this is going. I think. I wish that you would give us more information; I think that you know your characters so well that you forget we don't know them. There's a richness to the story that I'm missing because it's still stuck in your head.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: March 17th, 2011 05:43 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
There's a definite overall style that Muse has been insisting on with this, yeah; it just doesn't flow until it's pared down to a very minimalist take on things. Not sure if this is some subconscious reaction to how florid "Vampire Lit" tends to run, or if Muse just thinks Trevor's a weirdo. :) This story's wanting to layer so much of the information into context and subtext that it's a struggle just wringing out text, at times...
ashnistrike From: ashnistrike Date: March 20th, 2011 07:12 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I actually like having this much done in inference - in longer chunks it would probably get exhausting, but for vingettes it's rather lovely.

(It also gives the whole thing a fantasy-of-manners vibe, which I'm a sucker for.)

-Nameseeker
robling_t From: robling_t Date: March 22nd, 2011 12:39 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
And which is probably rather weird for the contemporary-urban setting, but then I suppose Trevor's not exactly 100% contemporary, which might explain quite a lot come to think of it...
the_failed_poet From: the_failed_poet Date: February 3rd, 2012 04:32 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I find myself agreeing in equal parts with ljgeoff and ashnistrike. I keep wanting to know more than I know, but there's something about the very minimalist nature of this vignettes that's actually quite sweet.

I think it works really well with Trevor being the narrator, for the very reason mentioned above: fantasy-of-manners vibe largely because Trevor just has so much history.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: February 3rd, 2012 05:28 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
It's always hard to strike that balance between teasing the reader to read on with the feeling that there's more under the surface, and frustrating them that there isn't enough on it, yeah...

(And hm, come to think of it, it would be interesting to know just how old people think Trevor really is...)
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