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A Good-Luck Kiss, A Bit of Sa'id's Past, Melani Departs

From: Karl

Subject: Re: Two Wizards about town; The Sunmaster's Decision

Thanks, and I really like your use of the word "organic" in that sentence. It's not often I encounter a word I know and use often being used (correctly) in a sense I don't normally see.



From: Scott

Subject: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

"You're the cleric's boy, right?" says the old woman, holding her wrist gingerly toward Pensive. "His, whatchacallit, his acolyte? Right?"

Pensive gives her a smile and takes her hand. "Yes. That's right."

"Hmmph. Big 'un, he is, for a priest. Lookit him stride 'round. . . don't have none like him 'round Overlook, they's all scrawny. Mealy-like."

"Does it hurt much when I move your wrist like--"

"OW! Dammit, yes, boy!"

"I apologize. You've got a sprain, that's all."

"'That's all?' Hurts like hell, it does."

"Let me see what I can do for you."

"You gonna pray over me?" She closes her eyes and bows her head.

Pensive says, "No, I'm going to wrap your hand and wrist tightly to keep it from moving."

"Your priest over there prayed over Mac Thorenwald's broken hand, and it mended right up."

Pensive laughs, "Well, I am just an acolyte, and this is just a minor sprain. The favor of the gods is given to men wiser than me, and should be used for wounds more greivous than this."

She pouts for a moment, staring longingly at Osred. "He is a big 'un, ain't he?"

Pensive nods, and wraps a length of cloth around the old woman's wrist and arm and hand. "I'm going to make you a sling to wear tomorrow while we march-- you don't have to wear it tonight, but you should keep it on all day tomorrow. Try not to use this arm at all-- moving it will aggravate the--"

"'Aggravate?' Where'd a baby like you learn to speak so high?" She reaches out to poke him in the stomach and winces when her finger meets hard muscle. "Damn, boy, but you ain't soft not a bit! Looking to get big like your Lord, are you?" She laughs and shakes her finger.

Pensive smiles along with her. "Don't move your arm. Keep it still and elevated as much as you can. The sling will help with that."

"You don't talk like no boy I ever heard." The old woman is studying him now-- Pensive bows his head over another strip of cloth and ties it quickly into a sling. When he looks up at her again, her eyes are filled with tears.

"You ain't no boy a'tall, are you," she says, her voice soft. "You are. . . you're one of them elves, right?"

Uncertain, Pensive nods. "I am."

She kisses the first two fingers of her good hand, and then presses them against Pensive's lips. "Oh, Pelor and Hieronius and Silvanus, and the Blessed Pig of Saint Robbie. Oh, I never thought to speak to one of your kind again."

Her fingers are still pressed against his lips. Pensive takes her hand in his and moves them away, patting her hand gently. She says, quickly in a burst, "Will you kiss me, Master Elf?"

"What?" Pensive is hard pressed to keep the shock out of his voice. No one had heard her-- Blood and Stone, please make it so no one heard her.

She looks at him, a little indignantly, "Will you kiss me? A kiss of an elf is good luck, they say, and we need all the luck we can get, don't we."

Alarmed, Pensive feels a wave of heat rush up his face. He bows to her good hand, and places a quick peck on the back there.

"What? That's not a kiss!" The old woman leans into him, her mouth perilously wide open, her eyes closing, her head tilted to the side--

Pensive places his hands on either side of her head and slows her approach. His voice is boyish, but steady, "A lucky kiss must be given, not taken, or forced." He presses his lips to her forehead, and then draws them away slowly.

She is quiet for a moment, as he gathers his things together. "Damn, but you are young, even for an elf," she says. There is a measure of wonder in it. "You ain't never kissed a girl, have you. Don't you deny it, elf-boy; I've been lied to by four generations of Tuckers. That's me, by the way, Elvira Tucker." She pauses. "So I'll know if you lie to me. You ever kiss a girl?"

"No."

"I'm the first."

Pensive nods. "Lucky you."

Elvira Tucker shrieks with laughter, and slaps her good hand against her thigh. "I ain't gonna tell no one 'bout you, little elf-boy! That way, my luck will run straight and pure, without getting so spread around 'mongst all these wrens and hallies."

Pensive didn't know what a wren or a hallie was, but he was hopeful that Elivira wouldn't spread it around that there was an elf in camp. Especially if everyone wanted a kiss.

"What's your name?" she asks.

Something about the way the wind blows. . . right out from the center of the island. Pensive blinks, and swallows. "Thistle," he says, but there is a catch in his throat. He clears his voice, and says more clearly, his heart pounding, "Thistle."

"Well, Thistle, you're a fine boy. Get along now, with you-- there's lots more people to tend to, you don't want to get a smack from your Lord, there, do you? Get on now, let an old woman have a bit of peace."

Pensive moves off. When he has moved away from her a bit, he forces himself to be still. To listen, and to feel his way toward the moutain of sand and shadow.

But all is silence there.



From: Raja

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Wow.



From: Karl

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Wow is right. Impressive.



From: Mark

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

I agree.

Mark



From: Scott

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Thanks! :embarassed:

The problem I've been having with Pensive is that there's no real reason for him to be in the game. It's something Ty pointed out to me when I was lobbying to have the elf replace Mission-- and in retrospect, I should have listened better to his concerns. Pensive has no emotional ties to anyone on the island; no tie beyond the philosophical intention to 'do good.' (Ty wanted me to play a paladin, if I remember correctly)

It's been difficult plugging a motivation to Pensive's actions other than the philosophical. So, I needed to give him an emotional reason to stay. And that's what I'm trying to do while the party is on the road.

I don't know how far I'll get-- it really depends on Ty's marauding hordes of undead-- but I certainly got a kick out of writing the turn below. (I like the image of this old woman opening her mouth to french kiss Pensive. . . I'm perverse like that)



From: Raja

Subject: Re: Two Wizards about town; The Sunmaster's Decision

Sa'id bows his head at the Sunmaster's references to Pelor and Cadfael. Fellus had not seen the destruction that he and Cadfael had both unleashed at the lodge. Cadfael redeemed himself but paid for it with his life, and -- possibly -- his soul. But -I- have yet to redeem myself, Sa'id thinks. If we can succeed in sealing the Devourer's prison, then maybe... his thoughts trail off. Cadfael's faith was restored, his spirit renewed, by rescuing Promise.

He is crouched by his mother's bed, one of her hands clasped between his own. Candlelight flickers. She is pathetically weak, unable even to squeeze his hand. He begins to pray quietly, begging a god, any god, to spare her life. Pelor -- just, yet merciful -- surely Pelor would intervene where his priests had failed. His priests... who had still taken their fees, their due, despite their failure to save her. Her breathing is merely a faint rattle in her throat, now. There are tears on his cheeks but he stifles his sobs, not wanting to disturb her final moments.

Her hand is cold. So cold. Cold like the dozen embalmed corpses in the basement of father's mortuary. Father, who just now is opening the door, just now seeing his wife, just now asking "why didn't you call me? Why didn't you wake me? Answer me, Sa'id!"

Pelor did not save her. Pelor did not save Cadfael. Will Pelor save -me?-

Pause. Breathe.

"That may be too much for one message," Sa'id says. "Just tell them to meet us at Gully's lodge."



From: Mark

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

MILF



From: Scott

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Huh?

What does that mean?



From: Mike

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

I think the Mormon version would be something like: Mom I'd Like to be Friends with.



From: Scott

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

OH!

I got it. That actually made me squeak.

;-)



From: Karl

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Ewwww!



From: Mark

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Sorry I keep forgetting that not every one here is a corrupt Catholic. ;)



From: Karl

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Scott must have a really good spam filter to not have known what that meant. ;)



From: Scott

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

Now if only I could get it to weed out all these duplicate emails. . .

:)



From: Mark

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

How about FILF?



From: Mark

Subject: Off to find the little people

Melani nods at Renniks comment. " I will go by the fastest path I can find, not the easiest. I will find my people and plead our case." With that she heads out at a swift trot.

OOC: I assume that she is on foot.

Mark



From: Jake

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

I'll second that. Great turn Scott.



From: Jake

Subject: Re: Pensive: Good-luck kiss

:D That's the truth.