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May. 7th, 2007 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupas yet untitled maynowrimo fic
goal: 17K words.
genre: sci fi
The radio was off, which was odd, because he never turned off the radio. Never. There was something comforting about not hearing anything at all, all of it being white noise, and then suddenly straining his ear at a song he used to know. He found himself humming along at strange moments, would feel his lips quirk up in a half smile, and everything would feel just a shade closer to all right. He would feel like maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so heavy the next morning.
The radio was off, and that was unnerving him far more than it ought to. Etienne Josephs was not a man that unnerved easily. As ambassador to the Lessers for the past 6 years, Josephs couldn’t afford that luxury. Even a diplomat had to be always on his guard and collected when madness and chaos surrounded him.
And, sweet heavens, was the Lessers full of chaos and madness.
Josephs shook off the feeling as best he could as he shut the door to his flat and made the trek across the inter-connected compounds to his office. It was a desperate world they lived in, indeed, with building after building inside this clustered oppidum being guarded by soldier upon soldier. Even after so many years of traversing this same fortified encampment, Josephs couldn’t shake the feeling of being in a prison, constantly watched for a slight misstep. The oppressive feelings only made him quicken his pace ever more so, hurrying to the relative security of his office.
As he settled at his desk, to the 3 video screens detailing latest developments in the surrounding region, the words of his marcus came readily back to his mind. He held the longest tenure in the post of Ambassador to the Lessers; previous gentlemen in his post lasted less than 2 years, with the longest holdout being his predecessor at 5 years. They never spoke of the job, but what they’d seen and experienced had driven men of strong constitutions to suddenly disappear into an extended and early retirement, no longer fit for anything but seclusion as a recluse. Josephs sighed, and scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to bring his focus back to the reports scrolling across the screens before him. He felt a sinking suspicion he was beyond his usefulness in this job at the ripe old age of 32.
“Ambassador Josephs, Marcus Scotts wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.” The wheezy mechanical voice resounded up from a small speaker set flush with his desktop before immediately cutting off. Josephs’ lips quirked sardonically as the monitors cut off abruptly at the end of the message as well, apparently freeing him from any tasks but the requested audience. He settled the loose robes of his office around his shoulders, and set off to see the man who’d given him his current occupation.
As the glass doors opened before him, the booming voice of Felix Scotts overpowered the air and battered the Ambassador’s senses. Just like always. Just like old times when they lived next door to each other.
“Etienne! Abyssus, my boy. It’s good to see you again,” the older man bellowed, gesturing to a seat in front of him. At 35, Scotts was robust and vibrant for his age, a giant of their time and like to outlive most of his generation in the coming years. It was a surprise to see a man his age still active, let alone in his profession. But Marcus Felix Scotts was nothing if not a man who lived by his own rules.
Nodding a deferential greeting to his superior, Josephs took a seat across the bureau, and waited patiently for the marcus to detail the events of the meeting.
Without prevarication, Scotts began to speak about the business at hand. “Etienne, we need you to act as legatus for a few of the headmen of the Lessers in the coming week.” So that’s what this was all about.
like it? dislike it? doesn't catch your interest? any help would be greatly appreciated
goal: 17K words.
genre: sci fi
The radio was off, which was odd, because he never turned off the radio. Never. There was something comforting about not hearing anything at all, all of it being white noise, and then suddenly straining his ear at a song he used to know. He found himself humming along at strange moments, would feel his lips quirk up in a half smile, and everything would feel just a shade closer to all right. He would feel like maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so heavy the next morning.
The radio was off, and that was unnerving him far more than it ought to. Etienne Josephs was not a man that unnerved easily. As ambassador to the Lessers for the past 6 years, Josephs couldn’t afford that luxury. Even a diplomat had to be always on his guard and collected when madness and chaos surrounded him.
And, sweet heavens, was the Lessers full of chaos and madness.
Josephs shook off the feeling as best he could as he shut the door to his flat and made the trek across the inter-connected compounds to his office. It was a desperate world they lived in, indeed, with building after building inside this clustered oppidum being guarded by soldier upon soldier. Even after so many years of traversing this same fortified encampment, Josephs couldn’t shake the feeling of being in a prison, constantly watched for a slight misstep. The oppressive feelings only made him quicken his pace ever more so, hurrying to the relative security of his office.
As he settled at his desk, to the 3 video screens detailing latest developments in the surrounding region, the words of his marcus came readily back to his mind. He held the longest tenure in the post of Ambassador to the Lessers; previous gentlemen in his post lasted less than 2 years, with the longest holdout being his predecessor at 5 years. They never spoke of the job, but what they’d seen and experienced had driven men of strong constitutions to suddenly disappear into an extended and early retirement, no longer fit for anything but seclusion as a recluse. Josephs sighed, and scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to bring his focus back to the reports scrolling across the screens before him. He felt a sinking suspicion he was beyond his usefulness in this job at the ripe old age of 32.
“Ambassador Josephs, Marcus Scotts wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.” The wheezy mechanical voice resounded up from a small speaker set flush with his desktop before immediately cutting off. Josephs’ lips quirked sardonically as the monitors cut off abruptly at the end of the message as well, apparently freeing him from any tasks but the requested audience. He settled the loose robes of his office around his shoulders, and set off to see the man who’d given him his current occupation.
As the glass doors opened before him, the booming voice of Felix Scotts overpowered the air and battered the Ambassador’s senses. Just like always. Just like old times when they lived next door to each other.
“Etienne! Abyssus, my boy. It’s good to see you again,” the older man bellowed, gesturing to a seat in front of him. At 35, Scotts was robust and vibrant for his age, a giant of their time and like to outlive most of his generation in the coming years. It was a surprise to see a man his age still active, let alone in his profession. But Marcus Felix Scotts was nothing if not a man who lived by his own rules.
Nodding a deferential greeting to his superior, Josephs took a seat across the bureau, and waited patiently for the marcus to detail the events of the meeting.
Without prevarication, Scotts began to speak about the business at hand. “Etienne, we need you to act as legatus for a few of the headmen of the Lessers in the coming week.” So that’s what this was all about.
like it? dislike it? doesn't catch your interest? any help would be greatly appreciated
