I was jokin' witchu, I already bought it.
You pick up the phone. You know he's twitchy so you call out to him as generically as possible even though a few seconds of looking clears that his name is Almond McKissinger, no seriously, that's what it says. He's also probably from somewhere in the Bible Belt from his accent. He turns and you hold out his phone. He dropped this. He reaches for it and you retract your hand slightly. He wouldn't have dropped it if her hadn't bumped into you so this must be God's way of saying that he should apologize. Almond isn't amused and snatches back his phone anyway. Jeez, his hands are quick. You tell him that divine justice will lay him low as it did the Egyptians for his trespasses. He tells you that he'll shoot you if you spout about religious shit anymore. Temper, temper. You can't just go shooting people for returning things to you, that's sinful behavior. You don't see him draw his gun, but you didn't have to, he's not gonna shoot. You frown and stare at him. Is that supposed to be a threat? More like an insult to his own intelligence. No one's stupid enough to shoot someone in broad daylight with people walking by. Especially not in a foreign country. Does he know how much trouble that will get him into? He draws closer. Oh. He thinks that will make it scary. If he wants to shoot he should do so now before they call the cops on him, or worse the local gangsters think he's muscling in on their turf. This gives the little nut some pause. Clearly. He doesn't want to lose face, but you put your forehead up to the gun and ask him to pull the trigger. You ask him to drive the nail into his own coffin. He withdraws the pistol and apologizes. You tell him you were only fooling and give him a pat on the back. Standing out so much usually isn't a good thing, but this time you're pretty sure you know what's going to happen to the little nut anyway. Now for the drop. It's about 25 meters away from your current position. When that number reduces itself to zero you get a text message. It's from Thorsen again. Hmm. That's interesting. It says good job making it on time and try to stay out of trouble. Figures he's watching. Could be a satellite passing overhead given his resources. Well, regardless, you look for the drop for a few seconds. There it is, in the garbage, wonderful. You pull out the new briefcase and take it to a sit down restaurant to clean off and read through the next case file. A man named Ricardo Guerra. Currently in Vietnam. Expert in field tactics and frontline combat. Sound scary. The picture is of a goofball with a helmet reading, "Safety First" pulled over his eyes. Another nutter. Whatever, assassins are always weird folk. At least this guy isn't going to have you on the verge of a heart attack every time he talks. All that's left to do is make the drop for Eff Bee and head over to the airport for the 5:00pm flight Thorsen booked for you. How nice of him. How do you proceed?
You decide to stalk him for a bit. You're not a spy by trade and you'd never take it as a job, but you like spying on people for voyeuristic reasons. You like that when you're following someone, you're the one with the informational advantage and they're none the wiser. It's the same as arguing with children, it's just so easy. You need to find a non-creepy hobby sometime. Well, nothing to it but to do it. You take a look at his path and make a guess at where he's going. You won't be able to follow him for long but he might be interesting to check out for a bit. You descend the building in the elevator and find yourself crossing paths with him just as planned on the streets below. He's moving west and you're facing north. Looking closer shows that he's a little more substantial than you'd thought from the initial view you had of him but he still looks like he's far from a close combat type. He's in his early thirties, has three pistols on him and is a quick draw. He's still looking for something even though he left the drop zone. You've got time so you observe him from a cafe for a while. He's a complete moron. Whatever he's been sent to do he's making a hash of it. You almost want to go over and help him i's so pathetic. But you don't, no money in charity cases. Haha. You get up and start to turn towards the drop zone when you hear him shouting over the phone at someone. Something about it not being here. Something else about this being a wild goose chase. Something else about the caller's mother. When he's done he walks back your way. You walk slower than him so he'll pass you before you reach the drop. No use getting tangled up in his business. He bumps into you rather roughly and doesn't apologize, he just tells you to look out. He drops his phone. It looks undamaged, what do you do?
He actually fixed it already.
Timecheck says you've got four hours to make the drop site. Public transit should take you only half that time, but since you're unfamiliar with the city, you just go ahead and start. The train is running late. Perfect. The bus broke down. Perfect. The cab smelled bad. Perfect. You get to location with an hour to spare. Well, within a few blocks. Showing up to actual sites for these things early is a huge faux paz. So you look for the tallest building you can see and then look for the second tallest and third tallest. Tallest usually offers the best view of who's dropping it or if any traps are in store, but it's also predictable and could ahve something between it and your site. That's why you try to go second or third just so people don't try to predict your actions and spy. You hate being spied on in spite of liking to do it yourself. Whatever, no one knows you, no one can judge. Not like it matters what a bunch of idiots think. Oh, now that's interesting. You use the AR application to zoom in a bit. Eff Bee is gonna love this. It's a man, American looking by his posture and general air. Tall, skinny and kind of twitchy. Probably a merc. He seems to be looking around for something. Hmm. What do you do?
Your message from Thorsen is in your normal inbox, so you look at it first. It's not directly fro him, clearly, but you know what a message from him looks like. The orders are simple. Pick up will be at noon today on the other side of town. Then you'll have to book it to Vietnam or something. Easy. You take a marker and put a T on that phone. This phone will only be used for contact with Thorsen from now on. Everything else will be done from the backup phone. You're certain he's got some form of bug program infecting it by now. Eff Bee now. On your backup phone you access the AR application and start looking around for the message. Oh, how convenient, it's right-- On. Her. Breasts. You're going to have someone kill Eff Bee for mocking you like this. The cute girl, whose name you still don't know, just walked in with naught but her towel hanging loosely over her petit frame. The AR app however seems to prefer showing her with a nekomimi outfit. Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng. You swear you saw the other side that time. She asks you if you've seen her hairbands. You hand one to her from the nearest table while trying to keep your eyes respectfully averted. She tells you it's fine to look after you put up with her sleeping habits last night. Bless her and all, but you take the opportunity to open the message and then ask her to show a little modesty. It's unfitting for a woman to behave so nonchalantly around a near perfect stranger. She grins pulls the towel up slightly before returning to her room. Too close. Message is simple. Says to relay all information you can gather regarding the assassins to Eff Bee through geotag dead drops each time you meet with them. The location is immaterial, you just need to use the chest feature they added to your account. Basically, only people that they want to communicate with can open chests. Okay, cool. If you refuse to comply you'll get iced. Really, iced? Who wrote this? Whatever, it's not like you've got a choice in the matter. You decide to wait for the girl to leave for work, you ask her one final thing though. What's her name? Well, what would she like to be called more like? Aria. Oh, that's... pretty. She smiles and says that she'll ask for your name when you next meet. How sweet. You leave her apartment with her and make ready to... [] Pick up the dead drop. [] Leave the dead drop.
You're roused from dreams of eating veal when you feel something on your arm move. You're greeted once again with that staring face. An instant later she's pulling on your cheeks and laughing at you. How can she act like this at her age? She's going to act like she's 12 right before she goes to perform delicate surgery on which lives depend? Yuppers, cowboy. Hnng. That pain again. You think her method of killing might literally be just comprise talking and winking at certain intervals. You ask her if she dreamt well. She says she had a dream about driving a tire with small cars for wheels. The funny part apparently is that she's not a licensed driver. She asks you what your dream was about. You said you were on a farm and the farmer's served you veal, your favorite animal. She tells you that cows are cute and you shouldn't kill them. Nothing that wants to live tastes that delicious. She pouts. Hnng. While you're recovering from her most recent assault, she heads for the shower. Tricky girl. You decide to use the other bathroom to get cleaned up and ready to go. It's a very sparingly stocked little place. Also, very clean. She doesn't use it at all, it seems. In fact, she seems not to use her apartment for much but eating an sleeping. So why'd she go and buy all that shit... Probably to get at you. You're not sure how to manipulate her, but you know that she won't manipulate you. You finish showering well before her and look through your phone. Two messages arrive. One from Thorsen and the other from Eff Bee. Which do you look at first?
You tell her that you haven't been told enough to be certain. Your collective employer is a mysterious man, you tell her. She nods and says that she'd be much more comfortable if she knew more. You tell her that she already signed. Still, there are jitters, misgivings, general things. Oh, those aren't something you're used to. She smiles kind of emptily. Never knew she had a setting that wasn't 'cute'. You tell her that it's probably just a normal long term contract, nothing that bad. She looks at you for a while and tells you that she's going to bed. She has work in the morning. You tell her that you'd best be getting off as soon as possible to move onto the next mark. She smiles and invites you into her room. When you're lying there with her you can feel the hot of her breath on your neck and the softness of her skin on your arm. It's awkward. She really did mean you were like a teddy bear to her. She's tangled herself around your arm and rests her head inches from your face. She fell asleep almost immediately. You can tell because you've been watching her face for an hour now and she's in REM sleep. Dreaming of something nice from the occasional sounds she makes. Stay strong, she's a murderer and a co-worker, two things that will prevent you from acting against her in such a crude way for now. Though, since she's taken a shine to you, you'll probably be able to leverage that later. After a while you manage to get to sleep. [] Wake. [] Dream.
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Your head is hurting something awful right now. This must be hangover related. You ask her if she's got any water for you. She shrugs and says she's got tons of water, but not for you. What? Then she walks out of the bedroom and comes back with a bottle of water, which she chucks at your face. You manage to catch it with the bridge of your nose and inspire a fit of giggles from the woman. Jeez, she throws like a Cuban immigrant. She's looking at you expectantly, like she's very interested in seeing what you do next. Now, you've dealt with a lot of girls in your time, but over the last 48 hours you've met the three weirdest ones that you can remember. Not that you wouldn't. Especially this one. She may be creepy and somewhat menacing all the time but she's got that statutory look despite being your age. You've gotta that. She sees you smiling and says you look creepy. You bring yourself back to reality and offer her a drink. She downs some and hands it back. Not poisoned, probably. You finish what's left and tell her that you were born with this face. She says that's unfortunate. You say that you've made it work for you. She moves in closer and asks how. You tell her that it's all classified information. She pouts a little before asking if you want anything else. Hnng. You might just die if she does that again. More water is all, though. So, what's she doing for the rest of the day, looking after you? She wants to go shopping but needs someone to carry everything. How does she normally shop? No response. Fine, it's the least you can do for her letting you stay. That's the spirit! Your headache is subsiding as you walk into the mall. It's amazing how westernized it is actually. If you were a casual observer, you might confuse this for somewhere in the States. She's doing cute things again, humming a silly tune this time. You know now isn't the time, but you want to commit a crime so badly. You ask her what you're going to be carrying. She says stuff. Lot's of stuff. Okay then. You really don't like the sound of that. Your headache is returning as you walk out of the mall. It's amazing how dark it is, you must've been in there for hours. If you were doing this on your own you've have been in and out inside of thirty minutes. You'd also not being carrying a metric ton of clothes and knick knacks, but hey, anything to please your gracious host. She's flashing that gormless grin of hers at you. You ask what her job is that she can afford this stuff. She says she's a surgeon mostly. There are other things that you probably have heard about, but she mostly just stitches people back together. That's admirable. She asks what you do. You're a hostage negotiator. You tell people what to do and they do it. Ooh. That's sounds cool. She asks if you'd like to try it on her. What is this situation? You can't tell if she wants you or if she's just playing around. It's like talking to a child. You can distinguish between a lie and a fickle change of heart with her. This sucks. Back at her apartment you unload all of her stuff and she sets to putting it away. She asks if you know how to cook. No. That's okay, you can just order out. Wait, can she not cook either? No, she just hates it. Why? Personal problem. Okay. So, what's around to order. Chinese. Really? In India, all there is to order is Chinese? Yup. Whatever. Yay. Her flat is abnormally large you've noticed. It's not exactly a penthouse but it's got a kitchen, dining area, living room, master bedroom, guest room and 2 full baths. You supposed that most people with money prefer to keep in nicer places, but it's a lot for just one person isn't it. At dinner you ask if you should sleep in the guest room tonight. She tells you that she prefers company, like a teddy bear. Was that a no, or a yes? After dinner she asks a little more about you. Simple stuff related to the job. You tell her that you're not supposed to say anything more than the contract indicates. She seems a little disappointed. Are you going to be coming on the job or are you just a recruiter? That one you can answer, but... [] but what? Answer her. [] you don't want to give her too much to go on, she's too smart for that. Don't answer.
Doesn't mean my mind was on it at the time. Jeez, learn some consideration.
Thank you. We all wanted to think about that.
This just makes me uncomfortable.
Styx has reminded me of the drive I once had to help writers more dedicated than I achieve their goals. So I've written everyone a short critique and my final opinion of your current state of writing. It's not perfect by a long shot and my opinion is far from law, but I'm doing my part to help you where no one helped me while I was trying to improve all those years ago. Spoiler: Plums Beachbound I want to start with the brass tacks and move into the finer subtleties later. First, you need to spell check. I found no fewer than four typographical errors in this piece, all of which were also caught by the spelling grammar check on LibreOffice. So look over things more carefully in the future. Second, you make use of present tense for a lot of the beginning but shift into a hypothetical voice part way through. No big, except you phase in and out of it. You need to work towards consistency. Something that should have been done doesn't elicit a real reaction. This might be a literary device you're trying to get at but in the end it just looks like a loose end where you messed up. It's not airtight and clean, so I feel the need to mention it. This '--' mark that you use should appear like this 'word-- word' not 'word -- word'. Not a big deal, but something that is a standard usage in auto-correct. Moving on to the more abstract things. Okay, it's a really intimate story about a family who all have their own ways of dealing with the passing of the mother. The son is correct and the father is incorrect. The sister is only there because she is. So the characters are flat and unimportant as individuals and this is a tonal/emotional piece. I can get with that. This doesn't move me at all, though. I thinks it's well enough written, but it's not something that you've made your own statement with, it's not something that you can't find elsewhere. I don't know how else to articulate my reasoning for lack of emotional response. Yesterday's Promise Brass tacks, then abstracts. First, no spelling or grammar errors in this one. Very good. You use a lot of unconventional and unusual constructions with your sentences. It's stuff I can't even call right or wrong, just weird. There is definitely some ambiguous phrasing at the beginning with the sun and breeze, but it's forgivable because the context fills in the gaps of your descriptions. For the most part, I just feel that your writing has all of these weird sentences because of what you've read and how you've been taught. It's probably only weird to me because of what I've read, though. Still you seem like you're trying a bit too hard to go for that eloquence that some people have a knack for and end up sounding stilted. The ending two paragraphs are great though. Alright, so the story you're telling. Again, vague and the characters don't matter. Good in its own sense, though not my cup of tea. The thing that makes this better than Beachbound is that it actually feels like something is being said here, not regurgitated. I don't know why because this also follows some pretty common themes, but hell if I know. Now, for my overall evaluation, I'm going to say you've grown a lot. I remember when I thought myself a better writer than you. It actually wasn't that many years ago. But now, I'd be an arrogant fool to think anything resembling it. I'm actually in ****ing awe. It's depressing in the sense that I'm being outgrown and left behind, but I knew that this would happen sometime. Seriously, good work. Spoiler: What? Forgotten By Time I don't see much of a point in critiquing this from a technical standpoint, since I basically have nothing to say. Far as brass tacks go, you get a by. So as to the abstracts. I can't say it's original and I can't say I liked the end. It's fanfiction, and that makes it predictable. You followed the formula here. You made it seem like you were building up a separate story and scene all your own then, “BAM!” goes the reference and we're locked into a preset universe and it becomes pretty obvious where it's going. It's not bad. It's good. I just don't like when you can tell the ending so easily and when you throw away your own exposition in favor of a dependency on the audience. It's a good piece with a lot of emotion, you just ended up killing it for me by making it Pokemon. Good work though. What a read that was. One typo found. No grammar errors of note. Gonna make the same convention comment that I made to Plums about the '--' sign. Schrödinger's Knot Onward, then. Very good. You almost had me here. You really did do something good here. It's probably the best single piece in the thread. But there are flaws that I'd like to point out and reasoning for why you didn't get my vote. The narrator. Classy fellow and all, but he's not entirely consistent. Normally, he's using far more standard English. Suddenly, he'll break into some colloquial speech. Why? There's literally no discernible reason for him to shift. Either you make it clear later or you're just throwing in the colloquialisms haphazardly and making it look sloppier than it needs to be. You also spend a lot of words (read: 4000+) to do not very much story telling. Okay, word economy isn't the most important thing in the world, but the point remains, you should be aware that you've spent four pages to say, “The world is connected by more than just the internet. B likes old stuff in spite of herself. There is something wrong in this world. Our narrator is a stalker.” So I liked this a lot but it's at the point where it needs some fine tuning to be truly great. I don't need to tell you that you're better at writing than me. That much should be obvious to a lobotomized chihuahua. So I won't, I'll just tell you that I don't feel like giving you my vote for best for two reasons. You already are shoe in to win it and you're only perfect on the technical side. You still need to refine yourself and develop an identity as a writer. You need more personality and soul in it. As it is, it feels like a mass of skills and ideas, not a finished work. So forgive me for holding that against you. Spoiler: Saxima Reflection Alright, brass tacks. We've got magnanimous used out of context. You use it the same way some would use generous when they're going for something like, “Generous portions.” Basically, you seem to mean a lot of something. That's not how magnanimous works. It's a subtle difference between the two words and their respective meanings. I also would not have used generous. I'd have gone for something like 'abundant' to show the amount or 'palpable' to show the intensity. That just makes more sense to me. So think on word choice more thoroughly, it may not sound good but a word only works if its meaning is correct and that should trump all other factors. Meaning is what words convey. Other than that, you're good on the technical front. I don't really like fanfiction and this one is clearly depending on the source material. It's not a bad thing per se, but I have a lot against it. You do a good job fleshing out emotions that Square decided to kind of pass over and making it a poignant piece. I know you're a good writer already and this just shows it off a little more. I'd really have liked to see an original work though. Overall, you're good, I can't even tell you what I think is wrong really. I just know that there are things here that I like better. Much love though. You deserve so much more play in the polls and in the hearts and minds of the public. Spoiler: Styx Sorry pal, I've already said all I want to on Access and I believe I've read Killswitch and possibly even critiqued it to the best of my meager abilities as well. My final vote does go to you, though. It was mostly Access and that got me. It resonates with me on a certain level and really covers everything that I think a full and finished work should be. I know it may seem like a copout now, but I just voted this way because of how I felt at the time. Spoiler: darkhorseD Pushing Daisies: Pie-lette (My Little Pony and Pushing Daisies crossover) Brass tacks. You need to use spellcheck and make sure your sentences make sense before you roll it out. The biggest problem I see here is that you never, vary your sentences. You write very, very monotonously. It's consistent pretty much throughout that you just say everything in the most matter of fact possible voice, sparing no effort for nuance or tonality. You just say what happened and let it go. That's boring. That's not a good thing to do. Summarily, check spelling and grammar with the computer, yourself and a friend; and more importantly, vary your sentences and give yourself a cadence to work with. You want to not put us to sleep. Abstracts. I don't like it one little bit. It's not just the writing style. Your characters are empty husks with no true distinctions other than name until the very, very end where you give character interaction token service. Your series of events are disjoint and your transitions abrupt. Your conveyance of emotion is nil. You have characters dying left and right and it has this matter of fact tone that doesn't lend itself to making the reader care. There may be some redeeming quality here, but I can't find it. The Beast Below I'm terrible at judging poetry. I think you did fine. Learn to use spellcheck. At the end of the day, you're the only person I didn't consider voting for. You're better than the majority of writers I've seen on this site in the past but if your prose is any indication, you don't belong on this poll. I don't know how much of a writer you are since I've seen everyone else for multiple years and you for only this thread so I can't judge if this is because you're only just starting to get serious or some other reason, but I strongly encourage you to put in more time and get more outside criticism. I say all of this at the risk of sounding like a horrible prick, but I feel like you probably need to hear this from someone.
This may just be me, but I don't like fandoms. I don't like the results of people gathering over a single united interest and participating in the echo chamber group think that define fandom. I like the idea of bonding with people over shared interests and I understand that fandom is in a way an extension of that, but there's more to it clearly. So what do I have a problem with? I'm not sure how to say, but I'll do my best. First, fandoms spawn fanfic. What's wrong with fanfic? It's a dependent art. Like all referential humor it is entirely hinged on a common knowledge base. That common knowledge base it used as a crutch by less skilled writers and perpetuates the flaws in their writing. But what's more of a problem, is people form their "headcanon" and "ships" and whatever else. These are harmless but irritating. They undermine authorial intent and can at times become so prevalent that they affect people's perceptions of the source material. I feel like that is a kind of heresy. So to be most specific, while I'm open to individual interpretation I've never been a fan of group interpretation. It just seems like herd behavior and is by and large completely inane. Second, fandoms like to rave. Okay, who doesn't like to share their opinion about something they really like? Fine, I'll accept that; but when you belabor the point, when you take it to the illogical extreme, when you express a feeling that is so ludicrous and obsessive that it cannot truly be the spawn of your own devices,, we have a problem. The problem is that someone should only feel what they feel and what they feel alone. They shouldn't tap into the feelings of the group and exaggerate their own opinions because of that feedback from the conglomerate. That's subconsciously subjugating your own decisions to the will of a majority. You should be allowed to like what you want and express that how you want, but I feel like that's not what's actually happening. Whether people are aware of it or not, they're being pressured and that's not good for them. Third, they have a group identity. I don't like that people seem to justify themselves by clinging to a group. I don't like when people justify themselves by intentionally setting themselves against the group. Both ways are meta and have nothing to do with the actual topic. I personally like a lot of things that have fandoms large and small, but I would never in my life associate myself with a fandom. I want my opinions, thoughts and feelings to be very distinctly my own. I don't want to be a member of some club that thinks it's better than other people who aren't in it. I don't want to be a part of a cult with a uniform opinion or agenda. I wouldn't want to be called "Otaku", "Brony", "Whovian", or whatever other flavor of the week tag you've decided to attach to a group. I just want to be me. I realize this is a poorly explained position and I'll be kicking myself for writing most of it later, but I do want to get it out there in some form. Now, I'm not just a hater, there are some good things that come out of communities surrounding a certain topic. It's just the fact that some if not all seem to get out of hand in some way or another that really bothers me whenever I take a closer look at it. In the end, I don't care if you are a fan and feel the need to connect with others, I just can't find it in myself to join any of you and that's truly no loss for anyone. Good fucking night.
Your thoughts are incredibly jumbled right now. You try to formulate a plan but nothing comes. You try to take a step forward but your leg just jitters. She's looking at you like you're an idiot. HOw many did you have? Okay, so she's the killer (maybe) that means you just need to hand her this briefcase in your hand and-- you tell her that you're not interested. By lying down on the pavement very quickly. She gasps a little and then you black out. Spoiler When you wake up the first thing you see is a very cute girl's face staring at yours. You do the natural thing and jump out of bed with a girlish shriek. She smiles and laughs. Crazy bitch. You ask her what's up and she says, "You, silly." Her English is in some upper middle class British accent. Probably grew up with some money. You ask what happened. She tells you that you passed out and she dragged you back home. By the time she got here she was so tired that she just threw you on the bed and went to sleep. Apparently, she had the day off today and she's spent most of it so far staring at your sleeping face. Crazy bitch. She also mentions that she brought your briefcase and thinks it's odd that he'd carry around so much cash. You tell her that it's hers. She tells you that she's aware and pushes the contract into your hands. She's good. You read her signature and look back up to her. She's still smiling. So what now? She says you've probably got more people to look for if that contract is any indication. You're welcome to stay with her for a few more days if you plan on staying in India, but if not, you'd better hustle up. What do you do?
Watch GuP.
Spoiler: fragment 3 The shop was always empty. The shelves were always stocked, the counter always clean. Still, the shop was always empty. The displays were always neat and colorful, the floor was always clear. But, the shop was always empty. The sales were always good, the lights bright and clear. Yet, the shop was always empty. The proprietress of the small hole in the wall magic shop had considered moving out and finding a better location once or twice. She had at other times considered going back to school and joining real society. But she'd never done more than consider any of these things. The shop was important to her. That's why she kept the shelves freshly stocked every month and cleaned the counter every day. That's why she spent hours arranging displays and sweeping the floor after closing time. That's why she made sure to have the lowest possible prices on all products and kept the electrics in working order. That's probably also why the shop was always empty. She never sold any trick decks or microfiber threads. She never stocked any weighted dice or How To guides. None of that is real. It's all a trick. All a ruse. Magic isn't supposed to be a trick or a sleight. Magic is just as real as rocket science. People are just really bad at it. Modern people think they can just brew up a love potion or say a few words to cast a spell. That's ridiculous and practically slanderous to real magicians. Magic is an exact science and a very difficult proposition. The proprietress knew this very well, painfully so. There was a reason she lived above the shop alone and couldn't sell the place if she tried. Divination though, that was something she could do. Whether you needed her to dowse for a lost ring or throw some bones for your ETD, it was easy. She was gifted at this craft. That's another possible reason why the shop was always empty. Today the shop was closed entirely, because she'd foreseen herself making some money in the park. She was wearing the same clothes as in the vision; a pair of cargo shorts, kneesocks, hiking boots, her favorite blouse and a witch's hat she picked up for a costume party several years before. Not exactly the most convenient thing for a young lady to be walking around in during the middle of the day, but if the vision called for it, perhaps it made some sense. When she arrives at the park, she'll meet a girl with a pink aura. The girl will be wearing a yellow shirt, blue shorts and running shoes, though. The girl will ask, “Are you the time witch they keep talking about?” “No. I'm just a shop owner who happens to tell fortunes on the side.” Next the girl will look at the proprietress like she's lying and ask her to prove that she's not just some charlatan. Her exact words are, “Listen, *****, I don't have time to play with you. Either you can tell me what I want to know or you can go **** yourself.” When the proprietress manages to mouth all the words back at her as she's saying them she starts to understand. “Need more proof?” Of course she does, “How many fingers am I holding up?” “None, you're holding three fingers down.” The proprietress will say. “Two on the left hand and one on the right.” The girl will think on it for a moment before coming up with a battery of questions. None of them are incredibly good, but she'll get eh point soon enough. “How old am I and what is my name?” The proprietress will pull out a piece of paper and start reading. “You're fifteen and your name is Erica.” The girl, Erica, looks none too happy about it, but keeps going. “Why did I come here?” “To figure out where Raven was going to be set up for his ambush.” “Well?” She's a very rude one, but money is money. The proprietress will sigh and give her an out. When fate's already decided you can't tempt it, might as well pretend to be the better person. “You don't have to do this. I can already tell it will end up badly.” “I have the cash, look.” That's that, then. “Can't argue with that logic. He'll be hiding out on the fifth floor of the Sunrise Tower on an outcropping that oversees Reiner Avenue. That's all I know based on my vision of this conversation.” “Is there anything else I should know?” “Who knows until we cast the stones?” This is where the vision cuts out and the proprietress starts working on her own. “How much?” Erica is getting impatient already. Typical of the youth of today. No respect for the tradition of the thing. No manners either. Perhaps that's just the desperation talking. “You've got enough. I lead a very simple life and I'm not here to rip you off. You're only just in high school after all.” “Whatever, just do your thing, time witch.” “As you wish.” The proprietress smiles. “Also, you may call me Liz. It's what all my friends call me, you know, if I had any friends.” “Liz, then.” “Thank you.” Liz pulls a few smooth stones from her pockets and motions for Erica to follow her. There are many ways of divining, because it's more to do with the mentality and ability of the seer than it is to do with how they do it. As the name implies, seers see. That's how they figure it out. Liz prefers to look at metaphors for causation to see the future. That's why she started skipping the rocks over the surface of the pond as soon as she reached the edge. Erica looked at her like she was wasting her time before Liz handed her a stone and asked her to skip it. “Come now, Erica, the magic doesn't happen unless we all play a part.” “I'm bad at this.” “You're bad at a lot of things, it has never stopped you before.” Liz smiled again and pat her client on the back. “Have some confidence for once.” “Easy for you to say.” Erica flung the small, smooth composite straight into the water. Her skill was in line with her initial prediction unfortunately. “Try again, if you please. But be gentler this time, and try to spin it a bit. Like this.” Liz tossed one of her own. “See?” “I guess.” Erica took a second stone from the proprietress and tested its weight. “Don't guess. We are telling the future here, we need to know.” Liz reminded her. “I know you're going into the water if you keep bugging me.” The girl growled when Liz tried to give her another pat on the back. “That's the spirit!” Splash. “I told you I'm not good at this.” “Once more. I've a good feeling on this one.” “Fine. Last one.” Erica sighed and lazily lobbed the stone across the water. It skipped once before tumbling to the bottom. “See?” “That was luck.” Erica insisted. “That means you're gonna be lucky.” “Does it now?” “Er... no. But it helped me get a better idea of the course of events.” Liz frowned a little at the end and Erica picked up on it immediately. She didn't say anything about it, but her expression had gone from serious to depressed already. “Good enough.” “So would you like to hear it now or would you like to get it in writing?” Liz offered, pointing back in the direction of her shop. “Just tell it to me straight, Liz. What do I have to do?” “Alright, the ambush will take place the night of the attack. No surprises there. He'll be right where I said he'd be. No surprised there. He'll have something called a smiting spell with him. That means it kills things by hitting them with their own spiritual energy. So it doesn't work on normal humans very well. Keep that in mind. The last and most important thing is, you will get some use out of your demon wards. They're the only way you're getting through this alive. So prepare yourself. This is a future that you can easily avoid, but I don't recommend that you do, because it's deeply intertwined with the fate of that Hero. You understand?” “Yup.” “So, if I may ask, what will you do, Erica?” “Liz, it looks like I'm going bird hunting.”
