StV: Blackhand vs. Jade, part one

"Hey there," said the tall, athletic girl with the short brown hair as she joined him beside the door. He'd had no idea that this basement under the gymnasium even existed until he'd been invited to come down for a practice. "You ready to do this?"

Blackhand eyed her warily. She was an Anomaly, of course; he felt the shiver of recognition that filled him every time he checked anyone at Saint Vincent's School for Exceptional Youth. Well, anyone except the music teacher, which had startled him so much that he'd checked four times before giving up. "Do what, exactly?" 

"They didn't explain?" asked the girl, stopping far enough back that she didn't loom over him, then shaking her head with a sigh. "Possibly I wasn't clear enough. All right, well... you recently got a better handle on your power, right?"

"How did you know that?" Blackhand blurted. "Sorry. I just... didn't expect..."

"Harbinger told me about it, when he was asking me to help you explore it further."

"Ah," said Blackhand. "Okay, that makes more sense." Seeing as Harbinger had been the one who'd helped him figure it out, at least... And Harbinger really did seem to want to prove that he was a friend, or at least not an enemy.

"...Annnd, he didn't mention this to you either. Okay, then." She shook her head again. "Anyway, I talked to Ms. Brigham, and she set up a training time and sent the invitations. She'll be overseeing us. So if you don't want to do this, it's okay. Nobody's forcing you."

"Saint Vincent's is offering to help me improve my power, and you think nobody's forcing me?" He chuckled. "Hearne would never forgive me if I passed this up. Hell, I'd never forgive myself."

"All right," Jade said, and smiled. The expression was relaxed and easy on her face, and she tapped a code into the pad beside the door. "Come on inside, and let's take a look. I'm Jade."

"Blackhand," he said automatically, and followed her through the door. 

Music: Alibi

Dessa:

Week of Mondays...

So, somewhere in here -- hopefully today -- we're supposed to be getting some replacement equipment which I'll need to provision and get into place as quickly as possible. It should have come in yesterday -- Tuesday would have been better in some ways, worse in others -- but it didn't. So I'm kind of on hold, working on other things while waiting for this massive pile of work to drop on my desk. I'm also trying to catch up on some non-work things from back before Christmas, but progress has been... erratic. 

Current events are making me crazy; I need to stop looking at the news for a bit.  

Writing is keeping me sane.  

That's all for now. 

Music: Rockin' The Bronx

Black 47:

Music: Burning Man

Dierks Bentley:

Frazzled

I didn't take any vacation time off around Christmas or New Year's Day, which means that I had three days of mid-week vacation and my sense of time is absolutely scrambled; I spent half the Friday after New Year's think it was Monday, then went to Dad's Wife's house to celebrate my nephew's birthday. It went well, I think, but we're due to go inter my dad's ashes in two weeks and so that just hit me. Plus, a friend -- the father of Secondborn's closest friend -- is back in the hospital, so there's that. (He's been dying by inches for about three years now, but it looks like we're down to the final month or two; or maybe that's weeks.) Oh, and add to that the moral injury of "We're invading Venezuela under the transparent pretext of overthrowing a dictator so that we can grab their oil" along with, well, everything else the Republicans are doing and the Democrats are too busy being helpless to effectively oppose, and I'm just... tired, even after a solid night's sleep. 

Planning would be a whole lot easier if I weren't busy disassociating, basically. 

I have two writing projects that are... both coming along at their own speed, I think. One of them might be publishable when it's finished; the other one... I guess technically I could publish it, but I feel like I'd owe an apology to anyone who actually bought it. (Not because it's self-indulgent and the main character is a huge Mary Sue -- though both those things are true -- but because it's sloppy and I lack the dedication to go back and clean it up.) I'm okay with that; I'm writing them more for my own sanity than for any sort of readership or income stream. I've been replaying The Outer Worlds, which is... a good game, if not a great one, and fits neatly with the mood of the primary (publishable) writing project. 

The cat spent a portion of Friday night climbing around on top of the shelves in our bedroom, and didn't even have the grace to look guilty when I located him. Which was actually pretty cute; kitten is going to kitten, after all. The dog is keeping me company on the back couch while I'm writing this, and  I've still got most of Saturday and Sunday to recuperate -- even if this post won't go up until Monday. 

I am not looking forward to Monday. I expect work is going to be crazy-busy, and I've got to put a request for vacation time in for Dad's interment, and after all the work on the upgrades and whatnot I've just kind of bottomed out. Still love the new job, and I really like the people I'm working with, though. Even with the commute, it's a huge improvement. But yeah, I should have taken Friday off and just let myself crash out to get ready for this. 

It's a rough time for everybody right now, I think. Take care of yourselves, Gentle Readers, and do whatever you can to take care of each other.  

Azzazizz: An Ill-Considered Attack

Azzazizz -- Aziz for short -- looked down at the corpse of the infected succubus, and then at his hands and feet, which were tingling with something that felt like poison -- the same poison he'd felt when the rats in the sewers had bitten him. Possum, the druid, was already on her way over to him; she had a cure spell left. 

Okay, so that was a lesson learned, he decided. His contribution to the group would be skills -- stealth, lockpicking, negotiation, and like that -- plus his senses. His physical attacks weren't that strong -- not compared to some of the others -- and he had one good ranged attack and one weak one. Against these fungus-infected creatures, he didn't dare use the physical attacks anymore. Their infectious nature made that sort of attack as dangerous to him as he might possibly be to them. Were he just a little bit older... 

...But he was wasn't, and he wasn't trained to use the kind of mortal weapons that could hold creatures like these at bay. If the druid hadn't managed to paralyze the fungus-demon with magic, he would have been in serious danger. Like, getting himself killed kinds of danger. 

He thought about that a bit longer, then nodded to himself. That wasn't really a problem. He'd just have to consider carefully before he attacked anything with his claws and fangs... let alone his wings. He wasn't the strongest member of the party, but that was fine; he still had things to contribute. So... no jumping in, but no backing away, either. 

There were things he was better at than anyone else here, they just weren't quite what he'd expected. And, he reminded himself, that was exactly the sort of thing he'd come here to learn. I asked for this. He'd very likely saved Mac's life from the rats. He could do this.