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I'm going to go have a nice lie-down now... - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
I'm going to go have a nice lie-down now...
Uh... yeeeeah. I'm having a little trouble even telling if this scene works on the technical level because I keep having to stop and go look at pictures of kittens for an hour when I try to read over it...

There still isn't anyone on watch in the guard-station. Jill drives past, cool as brass. It's a warm evening, finally feeling properly spring now. (Life is skittles, life is beer, I can hear Jason singing. I dread the point where his course gets to squab.) The goslings aren't cute anymore, ungainly brown dinosaurs stomping across the tarmac. Not a night where the parks department have set up for an outdoor film, thankfully, but the grounds are still dotted with pensioners, ambling about in the gathering dusk.

(Max will have seen to it that the forms were observed for Doris. He knows me.)

Jill finally parks in a corner of the lot. She takes a few moments to plait her dark hair back, out of the way; I step out of the car and poise myself to open her door for her when she's finished, which makes her smile.

The nature centre and its woods are hemmed in by cordons intended to at least discourage the deer from wandering out into traffic. Jill and I stroll along the perimeter, hand in hand, trying to look more like young lovers courting than as if we're searching for a secluded spot to scramble over the fence. We finally find a stretch where we won't be over-looked by anyone thinking to try to do us for hunting without a licence. Chivalry be buggered here, she's still taller than I am in trainers; Jill gives me the leg-up before taking a run herself and pulling over the top to thump down on the other side all but in my lap. She laughs, edge of something more than wild-night-out nerves under it.

Even in the cover of these fair-sized trees it's never truly dark in the city, lights on the streets outside the small wood's perimeter coming on ahead of the failure of day. Easy for us to slip off the trails into the brush, following a heavy animal pong both of us can scent over the rising damp of evening. (Arguable, that we're made for this.)

A buck has come to the water to drink. It looks up, sensing us; a mistake. It meets my eyes. My heart quickens as the animal melts trustingly into my gaze. It takes a step forward, another, until it's close enough to touch. (Jill is absolutely still.) I raise my hand, lay it over the beat at the corner of the buck's jaw. Try to shape a whisper that might be an apology.

And strike.

It's quick, at least, merciful, the blood spurting faster than I can drink before the buck's knees give way and it sinks to the ground. Jill steps forward, now. Grins, teeth as sharp as mine. And kneels to feast on this glorious meat still warm with life.

It should be disturbing. More disturbing. Riding the shuddering joy of a third kill in a handful of weeks I'm finding it difficult to question. Even when Jill sits back on her heels and turns upon me a look to give me an instant's pause to wonder if I'm next on the menu.

But one raw hunger has been sated, for the moment, and her attention has turned to another. Jill rises, too gracefully, and begins to lick the blood from my chin, precise as a cat. Teeth raking the surface of skin as she works her way down my neck, tearing at my buttons to savour every precious drop -- Soon we're fumbling with blood-sticky fingers for a condom, which is probably ridiculous considering what we've just done but some cautions are second nature by now. Not so little brown bat. We couple in the wreckage, frantic, desperate.

(A young man's fancy.)

We do our best to tidy ourselves up, after, trying to look at the gory remains of the buck instead of each other as we collect our separate thoughts. Even in her frenzy Jill had fastidiously avoided certain organs and the central nervous system tissues; I feel a sudden stab of pity for the true predators like her and Jason, adrift in this world of modern taboos. Questionable enough to be me.

It's a mess to be leaving behind us, to be sure. If anyone finds the carcass... Well, we do have coyotes. Jill chuckles, suddenly: hell of a second date.

Jason's been waiting up again. "Somebody got lucky." I try to scowl at him. It must not be working: "Yeah, you did, you got laid, didn't you. Or, what's that thing you say, 'got your leg over'?"

"If anyone was 'getting a leg over' here, it was her," I say.

"Told you you'd be great for each other." His nostrils are still flaring. "So, um, I'm noticing you're a little rank there, bro."

Impossible to hide any of what we'd been about tonight from this flatmate. "We went over and brought down a deer."

Jason grasps immediately what this implies. And cocks an eyebrow. "All glory to the hypnotoad, man."

"Sod off."


6 responses | moved to respond?
morgynleri_fic From: morgynleri_fic Date: March 31st, 2011 04:46 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
It mostly works from a technical stand-point - there are a couple places where it reads a little awkwardly to me, but not so much as they can't be glossed over as stylistic choices.

And as someone who is probably a bit too fond of the bloody reading... it works quite nicely as part of the over all arc so far as well. And makes for an interesting glimpse into the characters involved.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: March 31st, 2011 04:57 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
It's weird, because Writer-Brain is going, "yeah, this is what they'd do, and then they'd..." at the exact same time that Reader-Brain is going OMG KILL IT KILL IT WITH FIIIIIRE 'cos I'm way too impressionable... Ah, well, at least now I can set it aside and move on to the chapter with the bestiality jokes... Wait.

Edited at 2011-03-31 04:59 pm (UTC)
ashnistrike From: ashnistrike Date: March 31st, 2011 05:59 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
It works for me. Although, speaking as someone who's eaten raw venison, it sounds like a perfectly reasonable date to me. Then again, I know rather a lot of people who, if they had hypnotoad powers, would use them for this and just be a bit disappointed at not having gotten to chase the thing down. What can I say--most Neopagans who aren't vegetarian find fresh game a lot less disturbing than what you find in the grocery store.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: March 31st, 2011 06:10 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
It's... certainly a wendigo's idea of a dinner-date, I suppose...
tintop_lizzy From: tintop_lizzy Date: April 1st, 2011 10:08 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I just like the fact you can use the word hiraeth correctly. Just sayin'.

Unhelpful comment is unhelpful.
robling_t From: robling_t Date: April 1st, 2011 11:20 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
I swear, getting to give it that title is at least half of why Muse decided to make Trevor Welsh. At least. It's pretty much his untranslatable experience of everything in a nutshell...
6 responses | moved to respond?