Yay! It's my first ficcy! *does little happy-dance* Anywho, I'm kinda new
at this (me has never ever posted anything before, EVER), so please be
gentle. So, now, onto the ficcy! (yes, I have very short author's notes, I
know.)
~~~~
Chapter One: Reunions
Alanna of Trebond, Olau, and Pirate's Swoop blinked bemusedly, trying to get her bearings. One minute, she had been in the middle of a battle, trying to fight what seemed like an entire regiment on her own, and the next, she was standing in a murky, musky forest, next to an old, mossy well.
It smelled funny.
"Now, how...? Hey! What happened to my voi-AAH! Oh, hi, Black God. Do you... you..." Alanna stared up and up and up at the towering god, suddenly realizing who she'd just identified him as. "...!!??!?!!"
"..." said the Black God.
"Don't feel like talking today?" asked Alanna. "Oh, alright. That's okay." She paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, since when did you ever talk to a mortal?" she mused, thinking back to the few times that she had met him before. He hadn't said much back then, either.
"Hello," greeted the Black God in a bland, expressionless voice, putting on a bland, expressionless grin. It was the kind of smile people always wore when they took photos for a school yearbook, or driver's license, or passport... not that Alanna was aware of this, of course.
"...Hi," replied Alanna when she finally got over her surprise. "...I take it I'm dead?"
The Black God continued to grin blandly.
"...Oh, okay. I'll take that as a yes, then."
The god nodded twice and gestured at the well. Alanna looked at him oddly.
"Huh? It's a well."
He still continued to grin blandly and pointed his staff down the well. Grin. Smile. Nod, nod.
"You want me to go down the well?" guessed Alanna. This was like playing charades. Alanna never liked charades. Numair always won. She suspected he took advantage of his magely powers. The Authoress is speaking in very choppy sentences. Choppy sentences are bad.
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. One eye glaring at digressing Authoress. ...Hey! (Wait, how can he see through the fourth wall, anyway?)
Alanna, not noticing the Authoress' mumbling, glanced from the god to the well.
"Uh... alright, then. Down the well it is, then."
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. Glare at Authoress for using the same three words to describe him all the time. (Nyaaaa! *blows raspberry*)
Alanna hopped down the well AAAAAAAAAAA-
~~~~
-AAAAAAND landed at the feet of someone with a clipboard and blue ballpoint (which is odd, seeing as clipboards and ballpoints had yet to be invented).
"Good day to you and welcome to the Realms of the Dead," droned a vaguely familiar voice. "I will be your guide from here on, as I'm sure the Black God has much more interesting things to do right now. We shall soon be proceeding to the Waiting Room, in which you shall sit and wait to be judged. You are welcome to the refreshments, but please be courteous to those around you. When it comes to your turn, please follow the lesser spirit..."
Alanna looked up to see a pair of sneakers, followed by a pair of faded jeans, followed by a black t-shirt with the word "VOLUNTEER" printed in glaringly white letters on the front (none of which, might I add, had been invented yet, either). But the face...
"THOM!?"
"...will balance your v-Alanna! I was wondering how long it would take you to get here!" Thom exclaimed, pulling his twin to her feet. "It's been so long! How long have I been dead, anyway? It doesn't feel like that long, but time passes differently, when you're dead. Oh, you'll enjoy it, being dead, that is, there aren't any stupid rules about what happens to you when you get hurt and things, and..."
"Thom?"
"...expect you'll have no trouble getting cleared, what with being one of the Goddess' favored, and all. I..."
"THOM!"
"Hm?" asked Thom, getting out of chatter-mode and into attentive-listening- mode. "Yes?"
"What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that." Thom waved a hand in the air. "Minos decided that I was bad in my lifetime, but not bad enough to deserve being sent to damnation for the rest of eternity, so I've been sentenced to doing 'volunteer work' for the Realm until the World Serpent lets go of her tail, or something bizarre like that. It's not that bad, really. But that's what I'm doing here, and why I'm in this ridiculous getup."
It occurred to Alanna that his clothing was not as ridiculous as it had been in his lifetime, but she kept this thought to herself.
"Okay, so... all you get to do now is spend Goddess knows how long guiding the dead to Minos?" she asked instead.
"Well, no," amended Thom. "I also have to look after..."
"DARLING!!!"
"AAAH!" cried Alanna as she was smothered in a big ole' bear hug by one very enthusiastic Duke of Conté.
"I'VE MISSED YOU SO! HOW HAS LIFE SUITED YOU IN THE TIME THAT I WAS AWAY? HOW HAS DEATH SUITED YOU SO FAR? HOW IS MY DEAR LITTLE COUSIN? DOES HE STILL WET HIS BED WHEN YOU PUT HIS HAND IN WARM WATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? HAS DELIA GOTTEN OVER THE BANANA SLUG INCIDENT YET? HOW IS ALEX'S 'LITTLE PROBLEM' DOING?"
"...ghhhhhh...." wheezed Alanna. Some tiny part of her registered that Roger must not realize that both of the people he had just mentioned had died a long time ago.
"...look after our smiling friend here," Thom finished calmly as the Duke started fawning and cooing over a very disturbed Alanna. "I don't think death suits him well. He lost the last vestiges of his sanity the second time he died, you know. 'S been disturbing the peace ever since. Once, he somehow got into Minos' study while he wasn't there and wrote 'I AM PUFF THE MAGIC WAGON' all over it in bright pink ink. And, before you ask, no, I don't know what 'puff the magic wagon' means. Nor do I have any idea how he got his hands on bright pink ink."
Alanna, who had, indeed, opened her mouth to ask precisely those two questions, closed it and sighed.
"Oh, okay. In that case... HOW DO I GET THIS SIMPERING LOON OFF OF ME?"
Thom frowned at the duke for a moment. Then-
"ROGER! DOWN! SIT! HEEL!"
Roger stopped immediately and looked at Thom, his expression grim. Alanna felt apprehension well up in her chest; Roger looked just as he had forty- odd years ago in Corus, when he was the formidable and untouchable enemy that had cost her four years of her life...
"Do you prefer regular or decaf?" Roger asked cheerfully with a broad, silly grin, breaking the mood. Alanna almost fell over in the unexpected release of tension. Thom, meanwhile, just shook his head sadly.
"Alas, he was once a genius. Now his is reduced to this. Come, Roger, Alanna. We must proceed to the Waiting Room."
~~~~
Good? Bad? Ugly? (Stupid, stupid joke, me knows) Authoress wants know your opinion. R&R, please!
~~~~
Chapter One: Reunions
Alanna of Trebond, Olau, and Pirate's Swoop blinked bemusedly, trying to get her bearings. One minute, she had been in the middle of a battle, trying to fight what seemed like an entire regiment on her own, and the next, she was standing in a murky, musky forest, next to an old, mossy well.
It smelled funny.
"Now, how...? Hey! What happened to my voi-AAH! Oh, hi, Black God. Do you... you..." Alanna stared up and up and up at the towering god, suddenly realizing who she'd just identified him as. "...!!??!?!!"
"..." said the Black God.
"Don't feel like talking today?" asked Alanna. "Oh, alright. That's okay." She paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, since when did you ever talk to a mortal?" she mused, thinking back to the few times that she had met him before. He hadn't said much back then, either.
"Hello," greeted the Black God in a bland, expressionless voice, putting on a bland, expressionless grin. It was the kind of smile people always wore when they took photos for a school yearbook, or driver's license, or passport... not that Alanna was aware of this, of course.
"...Hi," replied Alanna when she finally got over her surprise. "...I take it I'm dead?"
The Black God continued to grin blandly.
"...Oh, okay. I'll take that as a yes, then."
The god nodded twice and gestured at the well. Alanna looked at him oddly.
"Huh? It's a well."
He still continued to grin blandly and pointed his staff down the well. Grin. Smile. Nod, nod.
"You want me to go down the well?" guessed Alanna. This was like playing charades. Alanna never liked charades. Numair always won. She suspected he took advantage of his magely powers. The Authoress is speaking in very choppy sentences. Choppy sentences are bad.
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. One eye glaring at digressing Authoress. ...Hey! (Wait, how can he see through the fourth wall, anyway?)
Alanna, not noticing the Authoress' mumbling, glanced from the god to the well.
"Uh... alright, then. Down the well it is, then."
Grin. Smile. Nod, nod. Glare at Authoress for using the same three words to describe him all the time. (Nyaaaa! *blows raspberry*)
Alanna hopped down the well AAAAAAAAAAA-
~~~~
-AAAAAAND landed at the feet of someone with a clipboard and blue ballpoint (which is odd, seeing as clipboards and ballpoints had yet to be invented).
"Good day to you and welcome to the Realms of the Dead," droned a vaguely familiar voice. "I will be your guide from here on, as I'm sure the Black God has much more interesting things to do right now. We shall soon be proceeding to the Waiting Room, in which you shall sit and wait to be judged. You are welcome to the refreshments, but please be courteous to those around you. When it comes to your turn, please follow the lesser spirit..."
Alanna looked up to see a pair of sneakers, followed by a pair of faded jeans, followed by a black t-shirt with the word "VOLUNTEER" printed in glaringly white letters on the front (none of which, might I add, had been invented yet, either). But the face...
"THOM!?"
"...will balance your v-Alanna! I was wondering how long it would take you to get here!" Thom exclaimed, pulling his twin to her feet. "It's been so long! How long have I been dead, anyway? It doesn't feel like that long, but time passes differently, when you're dead. Oh, you'll enjoy it, being dead, that is, there aren't any stupid rules about what happens to you when you get hurt and things, and..."
"Thom?"
"...expect you'll have no trouble getting cleared, what with being one of the Goddess' favored, and all. I..."
"THOM!"
"Hm?" asked Thom, getting out of chatter-mode and into attentive-listening- mode. "Yes?"
"What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that." Thom waved a hand in the air. "Minos decided that I was bad in my lifetime, but not bad enough to deserve being sent to damnation for the rest of eternity, so I've been sentenced to doing 'volunteer work' for the Realm until the World Serpent lets go of her tail, or something bizarre like that. It's not that bad, really. But that's what I'm doing here, and why I'm in this ridiculous getup."
It occurred to Alanna that his clothing was not as ridiculous as it had been in his lifetime, but she kept this thought to herself.
"Okay, so... all you get to do now is spend Goddess knows how long guiding the dead to Minos?" she asked instead.
"Well, no," amended Thom. "I also have to look after..."
"DARLING!!!"
"AAAH!" cried Alanna as she was smothered in a big ole' bear hug by one very enthusiastic Duke of Conté.
"I'VE MISSED YOU SO! HOW HAS LIFE SUITED YOU IN THE TIME THAT I WAS AWAY? HOW HAS DEATH SUITED YOU SO FAR? HOW IS MY DEAR LITTLE COUSIN? DOES HE STILL WET HIS BED WHEN YOU PUT HIS HAND IN WARM WATER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? HAS DELIA GOTTEN OVER THE BANANA SLUG INCIDENT YET? HOW IS ALEX'S 'LITTLE PROBLEM' DOING?"
"...ghhhhhh...." wheezed Alanna. Some tiny part of her registered that Roger must not realize that both of the people he had just mentioned had died a long time ago.
"...look after our smiling friend here," Thom finished calmly as the Duke started fawning and cooing over a very disturbed Alanna. "I don't think death suits him well. He lost the last vestiges of his sanity the second time he died, you know. 'S been disturbing the peace ever since. Once, he somehow got into Minos' study while he wasn't there and wrote 'I AM PUFF THE MAGIC WAGON' all over it in bright pink ink. And, before you ask, no, I don't know what 'puff the magic wagon' means. Nor do I have any idea how he got his hands on bright pink ink."
Alanna, who had, indeed, opened her mouth to ask precisely those two questions, closed it and sighed.
"Oh, okay. In that case... HOW DO I GET THIS SIMPERING LOON OFF OF ME?"
Thom frowned at the duke for a moment. Then-
"ROGER! DOWN! SIT! HEEL!"
Roger stopped immediately and looked at Thom, his expression grim. Alanna felt apprehension well up in her chest; Roger looked just as he had forty- odd years ago in Corus, when he was the formidable and untouchable enemy that had cost her four years of her life...
"Do you prefer regular or decaf?" Roger asked cheerfully with a broad, silly grin, breaking the mood. Alanna almost fell over in the unexpected release of tension. Thom, meanwhile, just shook his head sadly.
"Alas, he was once a genius. Now his is reduced to this. Come, Roger, Alanna. We must proceed to the Waiting Room."
~~~~
Good? Bad? Ugly? (Stupid, stupid joke, me knows) Authoress wants know your opinion. R&R, please!