wanderlust--v2.out there

I used to have this rule, where I wasn't going to use anything for prompt!fic that I hadn't "unlocked" by getting to it in the main arc. Yeah, I run my life like an RPG, or I would if I had any will power.

008. Weeks
Drink My Water, Smoke My Cigarettes
In which there are other charachters in -9r, who have nothing to do with the Ratatosk.

He worries about Grier sometimes, because Grier thinks he's lucky, but Esea thinks that what Grier calls luck is more Grier being too dumb to stay out of trouble, and just quick enough on his feet and the up-take to slip, weasel or fight his way back out of it.

And Grier doesn't want his help, because Grier's a fucking one man show, and when he says that it's always with that arrogant almost-hostility that makes Esea want to punch him in his damn face.

Except that he's not really all that sure that Grier might not just be trying to keep him out of harm's way, because offering help was a good way to get pulled into affairs that one had no business getting involved in. And while that might be giving Grier more credit than he probably deserved, Esea tended to think that whatever it was Marr had him doing, it damn sure wasn't the big game Grier played it off as. Wasn't the cake walk he sure as hell wanted Esea to think it was. There was just too much hesitation sometimes, between Grier's comm going off and his reaching for it. Between Esea holding out a package or a letter from Marr, and Grier actually taking it from him.

Grier still drinks with him and exchanges jokes like when Esea was new to ships and so green a captain that the only reason anyone took his orders at all was because Grier did. Because Grier was all fierce, steady assurance, and a coveted crewman when Esea was struggling to prove to himself that he wasn't just a burnt out soldier. That buying a ship hadn't been the worst of foolishness, when he was young enough to start over but maybe too old to learn.

Grier still drinks with him and gives him that tolerant amused look he used to give him when he gave a bad order--letting him know it's a mistake, but following it anyway, and Esea appreciates it still--but there's a tired wariness to it that never used to be there before.

No explanation Grier gives can quite account for that, and there aren't enough accidents in the world to explain the frequency with which Grier shows up--when he shows up at all--bruised or bandaged or moving stiff and cautious, vaguely citing some fall or collision when Esea asks after it.

But still, better that than the nights that he sits in the bar alone and late into the night, trying not to wonder if it's just another missed rendezvous, or if he's seen the last of his friend.

This time, he's more than a month late, and while that’s not the longest he's been overdue, it's up there. And unlike the last time he was this late, Esea has ship preparations that demand his time. He can't spend his evenings and nights hanging about in a bar, just on the off chance that Grier might saunter in, his feathers ruffled that he should have to check in with anyone at all, ever, because of course he got his job done, and of course he's okay.

He tells himself there are reasons for Grier to be late--even this late--because he knows he's not the only ship captain on Marr's roster that Grier uses as a safe contact. The same way Grier's not the only one of Marr's . . . agents, that Esea transmits messages for, or hands out letters, packages, and medical care to. Mix-ups are rare, but not unheard of. Could be Grier's been and gone and the word is slow to bounce back from Celza.

Except that Grier doesn't mix-up, just messes up, and when he's late it's usually because he's needed stitching back together, or still in need of it and struggling to limp back.

The bar's quiet. It's upscale--the sort Esea wouldn't regularly drink in, except that it's on Marr's penny, and the place is secure. He's spent three nights out of five in it for the last three weeks, and stayed longer and longer hours. Any day now--any minute--his crew will start asking about it, making jokes about how he's turning into of those old men, or asking if he's fit to steer.

It's not like they don't know what's going on. It's not like they don't know Marr sends his people into shit a mile deep and doesn't much care if they manage to wade back out of it or not. They've been on the receiving end of that bargain enough times themselves.

It's raining outside, a slow, gentle drizzle that hangs in the air more than it falls. The sort of damp that gets into everything, and makes it seem much colder than it really is, the world all watery light and thick, gray, mist. Even the streetlights seem dim, muted to a dull glow through the rain. A lousy night, and when he's done here he'll have to ride the elevator back up to station, which is a ride he--inexplicably--hates.

The bar empties early. It's good drinking weather, and while this isn't the sort of establishment that caters to the unemployed drunks depressing weather usually inspires, there's usually at least a handful of older men, polished and urbane and putting off going home to sprawling, lonesome homes for as long as they can. It's unusual for the place to be this empty.

After dinner hours, a meager wave of people filter in, then back out, and another after the shows let out. There's almost patterns in the way the low murmur of conversation and gossip pick up, then die away again as the drinkers filter back out into now-dark street. Esea's spent enough nights and evenings there now that the rhythm of it is troublingly familiar.

Grier doesn't show, and Esea's no longer really expects him to. The elevator ride is long and boring and uncomfortable with his coat damp and his hair wet and dripping down his collar.

It's not exactly like Grier's dead, but it sort of is, because even though Esea dutifully goes and waits for him and leaves messages for Marr that never get answered, he's starting to think that he's seen the end of it. That he'll probably get no more word other than a new name, a new contact to wait for and send word back and forth to Celza for.

He rides the elevator up and down and learns more than he ever meant to about what's fashionable at the theatre these days. Drinks more than he probably should. Marr wants confirmation about his departure dates and preparation time, but ignores all of his questions.

He takes that to mean that he's not supposed to wait for Grier any more, but he doesn't have the heart to stop.

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Jeffster83

Comment posted on June 17th, 2008 at 09:33 PM

Another pleasant story showing the internal musings of a character who wants more than anything not to appear pathetic and lame. I don't know why these stories, and the similar parts of your novel that I have read, appeal to me so much.

You are known to have strong opinions on matters artistic: Do you have an opinion on whether writers ought to be careful to use only figures of speech that are appropriate to their characters? For example, a station-dweller would have little reason to say, or to understand the meaning of, phrases like "the sky's the limit" or "there are other fish in the sea" or "well-grounded" or "don't spit into the wind". Could a person who had never been to Earth and never known terrestrial creatures credibly say things like "sly as a fox" or "weasel out of it" or "stubborn as a mule"? And it requires a knowledge of the customs of some lost or obscure Earth cultures to make sense of the phrases "easy as a cake walk" or "bring home the bacon" or "shotgun wedding."

I can't think of the correct term for this sort of written phenomenon. An anachronism is a thing out of its time, but what is the word for a thing out of its place?

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rurounibug

Comment posted on June 18th, 2008 at 12:47 AM

I guess it would depend. If one is assuming the culture grew out of earth-culture, or at least an earth-like culture, then those things could easily just be accepted expressions, whether or not one has personal experience of them.

An example would be like blind people who use 'sighted' terms like "can't see beyond the end of their own nose". It's just a phrase liked to an accepted meaning.

Or maybe like how we still bless sneezers, even though we know it won't guard anyone against plague. Or atheists who still say "goodbye" (god be with you).

I like the 'pop' feel of using regular, modern english in an unrelated setting. I also think it helps relieve the alternate universe "bubble" effect (Where you loose a lot of depth because you eliminate modern popular refferences that might not fit, but there's no way in hell you can <i>make up</i> as rich a vocabulary, so it all ends up kind of sterile.)

And:
-9r assumes an earth or earth-like origin, but its a sort of 'shadow earth'. Mostly because I don't want to deal with the logistics of it (aka. the astronomy and physics of known celestial bodies and phenomena.)

But yeah, I think it's ok, as long one's logic for the world can back it up. (Though sometimes I only care that it reads OK, like in the manga Blade of the Immortal, where several charachters speak in a modern-day way, even though the story is set in old Japan, or an old Japan derived universe.)

I had to think about all that before replying, though. If something feels ok to me in the re-read, I just go with it. I don't worry too much about particular phrases as long as they don't seem too specific. (No disco jokes, or movie/literature refferences, because shadow!earth is not actual!earth.)

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June 16th, 2008

[original][-9r; original_100 #8] Drink My Water, Smoke My Cigarettes [1/??][PG13]

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