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rainbowfic2012-09-19 02:11 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2012-09-19 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
Bone Black 2
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Colors: Bone Black 2. Skull
Word Count: 922
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Mitchell just wants to get this article done.
Mitchell nodded at the security guard who waved him through. He didn't much see the point of one when the building didn't have so much as an entrance ward, but most mundane buildings were like that. It was nice that they weren't afraid of imminent magical attack, but a little paranoia wouldn't hurt.
The elevator groaned. One of these days it was going to fall through the floor. A safety ward wouldn't have hurt, either -- or at least an elevator that had been serviced in the past decade. Maybe he could convince Hayman to move to the first floor. It would cut a few minutes off their coffee runs.
The elevator opened across the hallway from the Paranormal Tribune's offices - a bit of a misnomer, as it was actually three surprisingly spacious cubicles and Hayman's enormous office in the back. Half of their material came in freelance - Mitchell himself was in a weird spot between freelance and contract. Hayman had signed him on an exclusivity agreement, but he didn't get shunted with the dailies and the crazies. His abilities would have been wasted, chasing horseshit leads and listening to racist diatribes about those people.
Then again, the bigots would run away from him.
Fuad raised one of his huge hands in greeting, leaning out of his cubicle and tipping the chair until it was almost vertical. "I didn't think you'd be in today. Didn't Hayman okay the holiday?"
Mitchell shrugged. "I'm not very religious."
Fuad shrugged back. "Me neither, but I still take every opportunity to eat too much and drink until I fall over."
Mitchell smiled. "And your wife is okay with that?"
"Hell, Anna's even better at it than I am. Woman can drink a camel under the table. It's true! Happened when we went to Cairo to visit my parents."
Mitchell wondered if he should have stayed home after all. He'd already endured three well-meaning neighbors at his door, wishing him a Grand Lady's Awakening. He could have holed himself in his room and ignored the doorbell. It wold have worked on the mundanes, at least.
Pixies Cup had been right out. The cafe was full up of wizards -- independents like himself, mostly -- and he didn't want to deal with them, either. He'd figured Fuad and Mei Lin would be out hunting leads -- unfortunately he'd only been half right. He could have gone to Cagri's but Cag sometimes asked questions Mitchell didn't want to answer, and things got awkward. Also, Cagri was deterrent to getting work done.
Fuad cocked his head. "You okay?"
Mitchell shrugged. "Just need to finish this article."
Mitchell ignored the aging beast of a computer that Hayman had provided and set up his laptop. It was slow to boot -- he'd have to bring it by Len's when he had a chance, see if she could take a look at it -- and he'd barely opened the word processor when a gleaming white skull popped up over his cubicle wall, gripped by huge black hands. "Hello Mitchell Pathing," Fuad's disembodied voice said. He spoke in a waver, because apparently skeletons sounded like they were underwater. "Tell Señor Castillo what is wrong."
Mitchell cradled his head. "You named your skull?" He felt for it on instinct, but it had no more life left to it than it had the other dozen times he'd checked. No way to tell if it was actually from Spain.
"I am a dead person and therefore your friend. You can talk to me. Wooooo."
Mitchell sighed. "Fuad."
"Señor Castillo."
"Señor Sapo."
Fuad peaked over the wall. "You can't even."
"I'll try real hard. Just for you."
Fuad leaned over the wall, unconcerned at the sudden sharp crack. "So why aren't you out partying with all the other young wizards, imbibing strange glowing drinks and producing a series of bastards?"
Mitchell stared at his computer screen. "It's... personal. And complicated."
"It always is," Fuad sing-songed. He clacked the skull's teeth together. "You don't talk about your family much."
Mitchell mumbled, "I don't have one."
Fuad frowned. "Don't you have a sister?"
Mitchell typed out a 'no'. "Remember when I switched mobile carriers, and I had to get a new number and Hayman threw a hissy fit because he didn't want to order me new business cards?"
Fuad dragged out a, "yeah."
"So that was around the three year mark." Fuad just looked at him. Right. Obsession with numbers was mainly a wizard thing. "Since we've spoken."
"Ooh. Gotcha. Radio silence from the sibling. So you called to give her the new number and things got hairy? Big fight?"
Mitchell shook his head. "No. I just didn't call. Didn't see the point."
Fuad tapped the top of the cubicle wall. "Man, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have dug into it, you know, nosy reporter." He fiddled with the skull, putting his fingers through the eye sockets. "Are you worried you'll see her? Or that you won't?"
Mitchell sighed. "I don't know. Her Grand Awakening is all tied up in family and tradition and..." He deleted the 'no'. "I just don't feel like it this year."
Or the year before.
"Hey, I get that. Listen, let me know if you want to get lunch. Ana's set on this no grains business and I am ready to kill someone for a bagel. Or a sandwich. The kind with bread."
Mitchell snorted. "All right." Fuad left him to his empty screen.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Colors: Bone Black 2. Skull
Word Count: 922
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Mitchell just wants to get this article done.
Mitchell nodded at the security guard who waved him through. He didn't much see the point of one when the building didn't have so much as an entrance ward, but most mundane buildings were like that. It was nice that they weren't afraid of imminent magical attack, but a little paranoia wouldn't hurt.
The elevator groaned. One of these days it was going to fall through the floor. A safety ward wouldn't have hurt, either -- or at least an elevator that had been serviced in the past decade. Maybe he could convince Hayman to move to the first floor. It would cut a few minutes off their coffee runs.
The elevator opened across the hallway from the Paranormal Tribune's offices - a bit of a misnomer, as it was actually three surprisingly spacious cubicles and Hayman's enormous office in the back. Half of their material came in freelance - Mitchell himself was in a weird spot between freelance and contract. Hayman had signed him on an exclusivity agreement, but he didn't get shunted with the dailies and the crazies. His abilities would have been wasted, chasing horseshit leads and listening to racist diatribes about those people.
Then again, the bigots would run away from him.
Fuad raised one of his huge hands in greeting, leaning out of his cubicle and tipping the chair until it was almost vertical. "I didn't think you'd be in today. Didn't Hayman okay the holiday?"
Mitchell shrugged. "I'm not very religious."
Fuad shrugged back. "Me neither, but I still take every opportunity to eat too much and drink until I fall over."
Mitchell smiled. "And your wife is okay with that?"
"Hell, Anna's even better at it than I am. Woman can drink a camel under the table. It's true! Happened when we went to Cairo to visit my parents."
Mitchell wondered if he should have stayed home after all. He'd already endured three well-meaning neighbors at his door, wishing him a Grand Lady's Awakening. He could have holed himself in his room and ignored the doorbell. It wold have worked on the mundanes, at least.
Pixies Cup had been right out. The cafe was full up of wizards -- independents like himself, mostly -- and he didn't want to deal with them, either. He'd figured Fuad and Mei Lin would be out hunting leads -- unfortunately he'd only been half right. He could have gone to Cagri's but Cag sometimes asked questions Mitchell didn't want to answer, and things got awkward. Also, Cagri was deterrent to getting work done.
Fuad cocked his head. "You okay?"
Mitchell shrugged. "Just need to finish this article."
Mitchell ignored the aging beast of a computer that Hayman had provided and set up his laptop. It was slow to boot -- he'd have to bring it by Len's when he had a chance, see if she could take a look at it -- and he'd barely opened the word processor when a gleaming white skull popped up over his cubicle wall, gripped by huge black hands. "Hello Mitchell Pathing," Fuad's disembodied voice said. He spoke in a waver, because apparently skeletons sounded like they were underwater. "Tell Señor Castillo what is wrong."
Mitchell cradled his head. "You named your skull?" He felt for it on instinct, but it had no more life left to it than it had the other dozen times he'd checked. No way to tell if it was actually from Spain.
"I am a dead person and therefore your friend. You can talk to me. Wooooo."
Mitchell sighed. "Fuad."
"Señor Castillo."
"Señor Sapo."
Fuad peaked over the wall. "You can't even."
"I'll try real hard. Just for you."
Fuad leaned over the wall, unconcerned at the sudden sharp crack. "So why aren't you out partying with all the other young wizards, imbibing strange glowing drinks and producing a series of bastards?"
Mitchell stared at his computer screen. "It's... personal. And complicated."
"It always is," Fuad sing-songed. He clacked the skull's teeth together. "You don't talk about your family much."
Mitchell mumbled, "I don't have one."
Fuad frowned. "Don't you have a sister?"
Mitchell typed out a 'no'. "Remember when I switched mobile carriers, and I had to get a new number and Hayman threw a hissy fit because he didn't want to order me new business cards?"
Fuad dragged out a, "yeah."
"So that was around the three year mark." Fuad just looked at him. Right. Obsession with numbers was mainly a wizard thing. "Since we've spoken."
"Ooh. Gotcha. Radio silence from the sibling. So you called to give her the new number and things got hairy? Big fight?"
Mitchell shook his head. "No. I just didn't call. Didn't see the point."
Fuad tapped the top of the cubicle wall. "Man, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have dug into it, you know, nosy reporter." He fiddled with the skull, putting his fingers through the eye sockets. "Are you worried you'll see her? Or that you won't?"
Mitchell sighed. "I don't know. Her Grand Awakening is all tied up in family and tradition and..." He deleted the 'no'. "I just don't feel like it this year."
Or the year before.
"Hey, I get that. Listen, let me know if you want to get lunch. Ana's set on this no grains business and I am ready to kill someone for a bagel. Or a sandwich. The kind with bread."
Mitchell snorted. "All right." Fuad left him to his empty screen.
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F: So you talk to dead people?
M: Pretty much.
F: And you make friends with them?
M: Uh...
F: And they tell you all their hopes and dreams?
M: No, it's--
F: You're like a psychologist for poltergeists! You love them!
M: What