Hello, this is your author, Moira speaking. I would like to share this bit
of communication with you because I think it will be entertaining. In this
story, I am very silly (obvious, obviously, as I take my friends into a
fictional world), and make fun of my friends in fiction. What could be
better!
Welcome to Moira's world. When they come, Tamora Pierce's world and characters are hers. The magic blue sieve belongs to someone who's name I never caught. Thank you.
One night something very dangerous happened, Moira the unpredictable read a story about a magic blue sieve, and she got an idea. The idea sat like a bit of something that festers, and festered in her head. It grew until Moira got THAT GLEAM in her eye, and THAT GRIN on her face. Unfortunately, there were no sane friends there to stop her, so she got a very crafty idea.
By the next morning, we are sorry to say, she was too deep in to be dissuaded. In fact to her friends, acquaintances, and just about everyone else, she looked completely normal (that is to say very sleepy). The only person in the entire world that noticed anything different about her was her bus driver, who thought she ran quicker than usual to catch the bus (to which she was, normally may I add, late). Thus the idea, evil as it was, was not got rid of in the normal fashion. In fact, it was not got rid of at all, and it was so terribly evil that it manifested itself that very day.
The manifestation came in the packing of a bag. Yes, I as the author know that the moment Moira returned to her abode from the necessary time spent pretending to learn, she went deep into the depths of her closet and did some excavating. ( This is in itself deceiving as Moira's closet was really one of those wide shallow ones and very little depth was actually involved.) From the depths (actually shallows) of her closet Moira surfaced, triumphant, with a pack basket. ( A very well made pack basket, may I add, seeing as I was the one to weave the darn thing anyway) Into this basket Moira threw very neatly the things needed for her plan to continue. These included but were not limited to, a knife, flint (taken from a cool little clicker/sparker of her brother's), a comb, soap, a tin whistle, earthenware mug, and a small army style canvas tent. She covered the entire mess with a bit of waterproof that was rolled next to the tent when she found it.
Then she did her little ape-dance-walk out to the kitchen, which was mercifully empty of other humans (mainly her family who would not be home for several hours due to this and that), and got out of the refrigerator the carton of two percent milk. On the side of the milk was a recipe for granola bars, and it was this recipe that Moira commenced to follow. While the butter was melting on the stove, she gathered together dried fruit, some unshelled (that means still in the shell) nuts, and a bag of granola bars. Then she followed the next step on the carton, and while that was simmering nicely(if evilly) she did something very un-Moiraish, she called her friends.
Moira never calls people if she can help it. So when Ilanna, and Fae got her summons on the phone they both agreed to come over right away. (seeing as this was in the heart of finals season, this was not a very normal or sane thing to do, but perhaps some of the magic of the blue sieve had rubbed off on Moira.)
Anyway, by the time they arrived, the so called granola mixture from the milk carton was almost done. Moira heard them at the door, grabbed her pack, and then threw the last ingredient in the pot on the stove. Ilanna and Fae opened the door just in time to see Moira, then nothing but a large cloud of smoke.
The smoke made them cough. I know this is not a normal or very romantic way of describing something that is not scientifically possible, but that's what happened. They coughed. Moira kept coughing, and so did Ilanna, because even though she had a cool unusual name most of you have already judged me as one of those hopelessly romantic \ unrealistic writers for giving her, she also had asthma. Fae, on the other hand did not have asthma even though she too had a cool unusual name, so she stopped coughing and started to chew out Moira. This chewing out consisted of many "what the heck"s and "MOIRA"s. Eventually (and here I will use the normal phrase you hate me for not using before) the smoke cleared.
Now I would like to intervene and explain to you what would now happen if this were another one of those fics by another one those people who like to use phrases like "and then the smoke cleared" right off the bat, and who don't apologize for using romantic \ unusual names. If this were like that, all three girls would now fall silent because they would be on a hilltop that over looked Corus, and they would all know exactly where they were. They would then stand up just in time to meet Kel or even more likely the author's favorite Knight or squire. But alas for the three parties involved in this story, I am writing this, so when the smoke cleared they had no idea where they were and Ilanna just joined in the chewing out of Moira instead of falling silent (and I ,as author, happen to know that they did not meet any one, known or not, for some time). And now I will continue with the dialogue that you all must be waiting for.
"Moira did you burn something?" "What the heck!" "Moira, MOIRA!" "FAE, we're in a forest!!!" "'lannie, Moira, where are we?!?" "I didn't do anything!" "Moira did it!" "MOIRA!!!!"
"Yeeess."
"Moira, WHERE ARE WE?"
"Ummmm, in a foressstt, Maaaybeee?"
"MOIRA"
"We not be home any morses"
"Duh..."
"Moira, you did this didn't you? You know where we are don't you?" Asked Ilanna who was sick of unlabeled dialogue as I am sure you are too by now.
Moira stood up ( they were lying down before) and said grandly, "Friends and Romans, I, with the help of a milk carton, have succeeded in transporting us to a lovely vacation destination. One day, you will thank me, as will all Tortall ficsters once we get home and document it."
Fae, however, was fond of unlabeled dialogue, "Are you trying to tell us we have been transported to Tortall?"
"Beats me, How should I know?"
"MOIRA"
"As I was saying, perhaps we are in Tortall, perhaps we are in Galla or Tyra, anyway, you get the idea. Now we must get down to business. We can't stand around all day." And with this statement, which was a much over used expression, she knelt down to poke around in her pack.
The other two were stunned. They conveniently stayed stunned until Moira had finished poking in the basket. They were brought out of their stunned state by having masses of cloth shoved at them. "what the heck?" said Fae for about the eighth time that day. "I second that," said Ilanna. "What the heck are these?"
"SCA costumes" answered Moira.
Now I, the author, would like to interject to explain the SCA. SCA stands for the Society of Creative Anachronism. (it also stands for a lovely college, the Sage College of Albany, but to this story that is irrelevant) The SCA is a wonderful organization in which people dress up from the middle ages and do cool and interesting things like sword fight and sample homemade wine. Now the three girls in this story were seriously considering joining the SCA. In fact Moira and Ilanna already had, and Moira had taken it on to make them better costumes. Very convenient isn't it. Heh Heh, it's great to be the author.
Well, when Moira says "better costumes", she means better costumes. The things were hand woven, hand sewn, hand hemmed, hand dyed, hand washed, and pre full of fleas, thanks to Moira's cat. (And boy do I know how full of handwork these were, seeing as I made them, because I am Moira as well as the author here.) (And I was just kidding about the fleas, there were no fleas. Are you happy Ilanna?)
Moira was well pleased with the costumes, she wriggled with delight as the other two girls held them up. "Beautiful, beautiful, now put them on."
Ilanna didn't want to. Moira made her.
After much ______, (I'm leaving it up to you what to put in the blank, because there are many really good words to put there and I like mad libs.) they were all dressed. ( this means down to medieval underwear too you purists who wonder when characters go to the bathroom and other rot usually, and tactfully, left out of the story.) Then Moira made them take out their elastic hair ties and spit out their gum. Actually it was only Fae who had gum, but Moira made her spit it out.
It was at this point that Ilanna and Fae finally protested. "Why are we doing this," they asked.
It is that this time that Moira went in to a quite serious explanation \ lecture. I will not go into it here for several reasons. One; this is supposed to be silly ( I said it would be in the beginning) and serious lectures do not belong in a silly lighthearted story. Two; I'm too lazy to type it. And three; I'm also too lazy to make it up. The gist of it was that they must not have things from their time here because it would cause a lot of complications, (except Moira couldn't seem to remember the word 'complications' so she had to use several other not quite so relevant words instead).
Then Moira took a plastic bag out of her pack basket and put all of their old clothing in it, along with the hairties and Ilanna's pursie-baggie thingy, (she left out the gum) and buried it in a big hole they dug in the ground.
Then they left.
They spent a long time walking and actually, to the surprise of the author, covered some great distance. They, however, did not know this, as they had no map or blimp, or Doppler radar or sat nav (which stands for satellite navigation system, and is a very nice handy thing used on boats) or anything else to tell.
It is at this point that the author hesitates, because it is the sad fact that she has not really thought up any plot. She was able to fudge her way along until now, but now plot is necessary, and the author is having a lack of ideas. Disappointing, ya?
OK, because I am officially out of ideas (or at least am pretending to be officially out of ideas for reasons unfathomable), and I think it would be cool, and I think it may get me more reviews (which seems to be the sole purpose of some ficsters) and I want to see if it will work. I am going to stop here and let you put in the reviews which you will write when you finish reading this, what you think should happen now.
Ready, Set, Review!
Welcome to Moira's world. When they come, Tamora Pierce's world and characters are hers. The magic blue sieve belongs to someone who's name I never caught. Thank you.
One night something very dangerous happened, Moira the unpredictable read a story about a magic blue sieve, and she got an idea. The idea sat like a bit of something that festers, and festered in her head. It grew until Moira got THAT GLEAM in her eye, and THAT GRIN on her face. Unfortunately, there were no sane friends there to stop her, so she got a very crafty idea.
By the next morning, we are sorry to say, she was too deep in to be dissuaded. In fact to her friends, acquaintances, and just about everyone else, she looked completely normal (that is to say very sleepy). The only person in the entire world that noticed anything different about her was her bus driver, who thought she ran quicker than usual to catch the bus (to which she was, normally may I add, late). Thus the idea, evil as it was, was not got rid of in the normal fashion. In fact, it was not got rid of at all, and it was so terribly evil that it manifested itself that very day.
The manifestation came in the packing of a bag. Yes, I as the author know that the moment Moira returned to her abode from the necessary time spent pretending to learn, she went deep into the depths of her closet and did some excavating. ( This is in itself deceiving as Moira's closet was really one of those wide shallow ones and very little depth was actually involved.) From the depths (actually shallows) of her closet Moira surfaced, triumphant, with a pack basket. ( A very well made pack basket, may I add, seeing as I was the one to weave the darn thing anyway) Into this basket Moira threw very neatly the things needed for her plan to continue. These included but were not limited to, a knife, flint (taken from a cool little clicker/sparker of her brother's), a comb, soap, a tin whistle, earthenware mug, and a small army style canvas tent. She covered the entire mess with a bit of waterproof that was rolled next to the tent when she found it.
Then she did her little ape-dance-walk out to the kitchen, which was mercifully empty of other humans (mainly her family who would not be home for several hours due to this and that), and got out of the refrigerator the carton of two percent milk. On the side of the milk was a recipe for granola bars, and it was this recipe that Moira commenced to follow. While the butter was melting on the stove, she gathered together dried fruit, some unshelled (that means still in the shell) nuts, and a bag of granola bars. Then she followed the next step on the carton, and while that was simmering nicely(if evilly) she did something very un-Moiraish, she called her friends.
Moira never calls people if she can help it. So when Ilanna, and Fae got her summons on the phone they both agreed to come over right away. (seeing as this was in the heart of finals season, this was not a very normal or sane thing to do, but perhaps some of the magic of the blue sieve had rubbed off on Moira.)
Anyway, by the time they arrived, the so called granola mixture from the milk carton was almost done. Moira heard them at the door, grabbed her pack, and then threw the last ingredient in the pot on the stove. Ilanna and Fae opened the door just in time to see Moira, then nothing but a large cloud of smoke.
The smoke made them cough. I know this is not a normal or very romantic way of describing something that is not scientifically possible, but that's what happened. They coughed. Moira kept coughing, and so did Ilanna, because even though she had a cool unusual name most of you have already judged me as one of those hopelessly romantic \ unrealistic writers for giving her, she also had asthma. Fae, on the other hand did not have asthma even though she too had a cool unusual name, so she stopped coughing and started to chew out Moira. This chewing out consisted of many "what the heck"s and "MOIRA"s. Eventually (and here I will use the normal phrase you hate me for not using before) the smoke cleared.
Now I would like to intervene and explain to you what would now happen if this were another one of those fics by another one those people who like to use phrases like "and then the smoke cleared" right off the bat, and who don't apologize for using romantic \ unusual names. If this were like that, all three girls would now fall silent because they would be on a hilltop that over looked Corus, and they would all know exactly where they were. They would then stand up just in time to meet Kel or even more likely the author's favorite Knight or squire. But alas for the three parties involved in this story, I am writing this, so when the smoke cleared they had no idea where they were and Ilanna just joined in the chewing out of Moira instead of falling silent (and I ,as author, happen to know that they did not meet any one, known or not, for some time). And now I will continue with the dialogue that you all must be waiting for.
"Moira did you burn something?" "What the heck!" "Moira, MOIRA!" "FAE, we're in a forest!!!" "'lannie, Moira, where are we?!?" "I didn't do anything!" "Moira did it!" "MOIRA!!!!"
"Yeeess."
"Moira, WHERE ARE WE?"
"Ummmm, in a foressstt, Maaaybeee?"
"MOIRA"
"We not be home any morses"
"Duh..."
"Moira, you did this didn't you? You know where we are don't you?" Asked Ilanna who was sick of unlabeled dialogue as I am sure you are too by now.
Moira stood up ( they were lying down before) and said grandly, "Friends and Romans, I, with the help of a milk carton, have succeeded in transporting us to a lovely vacation destination. One day, you will thank me, as will all Tortall ficsters once we get home and document it."
Fae, however, was fond of unlabeled dialogue, "Are you trying to tell us we have been transported to Tortall?"
"Beats me, How should I know?"
"MOIRA"
"As I was saying, perhaps we are in Tortall, perhaps we are in Galla or Tyra, anyway, you get the idea. Now we must get down to business. We can't stand around all day." And with this statement, which was a much over used expression, she knelt down to poke around in her pack.
The other two were stunned. They conveniently stayed stunned until Moira had finished poking in the basket. They were brought out of their stunned state by having masses of cloth shoved at them. "what the heck?" said Fae for about the eighth time that day. "I second that," said Ilanna. "What the heck are these?"
"SCA costumes" answered Moira.
Now I, the author, would like to interject to explain the SCA. SCA stands for the Society of Creative Anachronism. (it also stands for a lovely college, the Sage College of Albany, but to this story that is irrelevant) The SCA is a wonderful organization in which people dress up from the middle ages and do cool and interesting things like sword fight and sample homemade wine. Now the three girls in this story were seriously considering joining the SCA. In fact Moira and Ilanna already had, and Moira had taken it on to make them better costumes. Very convenient isn't it. Heh Heh, it's great to be the author.
Well, when Moira says "better costumes", she means better costumes. The things were hand woven, hand sewn, hand hemmed, hand dyed, hand washed, and pre full of fleas, thanks to Moira's cat. (And boy do I know how full of handwork these were, seeing as I made them, because I am Moira as well as the author here.) (And I was just kidding about the fleas, there were no fleas. Are you happy Ilanna?)
Moira was well pleased with the costumes, she wriggled with delight as the other two girls held them up. "Beautiful, beautiful, now put them on."
Ilanna didn't want to. Moira made her.
After much ______, (I'm leaving it up to you what to put in the blank, because there are many really good words to put there and I like mad libs.) they were all dressed. ( this means down to medieval underwear too you purists who wonder when characters go to the bathroom and other rot usually, and tactfully, left out of the story.) Then Moira made them take out their elastic hair ties and spit out their gum. Actually it was only Fae who had gum, but Moira made her spit it out.
It was at this point that Ilanna and Fae finally protested. "Why are we doing this," they asked.
It is that this time that Moira went in to a quite serious explanation \ lecture. I will not go into it here for several reasons. One; this is supposed to be silly ( I said it would be in the beginning) and serious lectures do not belong in a silly lighthearted story. Two; I'm too lazy to type it. And three; I'm also too lazy to make it up. The gist of it was that they must not have things from their time here because it would cause a lot of complications, (except Moira couldn't seem to remember the word 'complications' so she had to use several other not quite so relevant words instead).
Then Moira took a plastic bag out of her pack basket and put all of their old clothing in it, along with the hairties and Ilanna's pursie-baggie thingy, (she left out the gum) and buried it in a big hole they dug in the ground.
Then they left.
They spent a long time walking and actually, to the surprise of the author, covered some great distance. They, however, did not know this, as they had no map or blimp, or Doppler radar or sat nav (which stands for satellite navigation system, and is a very nice handy thing used on boats) or anything else to tell.
It is at this point that the author hesitates, because it is the sad fact that she has not really thought up any plot. She was able to fudge her way along until now, but now plot is necessary, and the author is having a lack of ideas. Disappointing, ya?
OK, because I am officially out of ideas (or at least am pretending to be officially out of ideas for reasons unfathomable), and I think it would be cool, and I think it may get me more reviews (which seems to be the sole purpose of some ficsters) and I want to see if it will work. I am going to stop here and let you put in the reviews which you will write when you finish reading this, what you think should happen now.
Ready, Set, Review!