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grandhotelabyss · 9 months

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Favorite plays? Best plays? Do many overlap?

I've pretty much confined myself to the classics, so yes, they overlap, almost comically so.

Ancients: I need to reread the Oresteia—I haven't actually read it since a one-sitting rapture by Vellacott's old Penguin Classic translation on a Sunday night in my teens—but as a founding myth of civilization, it doesn't get any better. Then Sophocles's Theban plays, then Medea and Bacchae for Euripides. Never quite got Aristophanes and have yet even to read his most famous comedy. The Romans, the medievals: pretty much a blank, despite what Shakespeare took from Terence and Seneca. The East: pretty much a blank, though Kalidasa and a volume of Noh plays sit somewhere on my shelves.

Shakespeare: Hamlet is best—as in the best play ever written and the big bang of literary modernity—then Lear. Among the less-discussed, my favorite is The Winter's Tale. My current novel is obsessed with The Tempest. I have a less intimate relationship with the comedies and histories than with the tragedies and romances, but do admire Much Ado and Twelfth Night and the Henriad. Among non-Shakespearean early modern English plays, I've adored The Duchess of Malfi.

Modern European: Is Goethe's Faust a play, exactly? It's not not a play. It rivals Hamlet on the one side, Ulysses on the other. Then Ibsen, for the differently Faustian Peer Gynt and Brand, and for The Wild Duck—the greatest bourgeois tragedy, Arthur Miller be damned—the play that marks the transition from the smug naturalism of A Doll's House and Ghosts and An Enemy of the People to the chastened symbolism of The Master Builder and Hedda Gabbler and When We Dead Awaken. Shamefully, there are plays in the realist cycle I haven't read, though, and I still need to get to Emperor and Galilean. As for other dramatists, Chekhov's fine—I like The Cherry Orchard but somehow missed Three Sisters—and Strindberg still awaits my attention.

Modern British: Wilde and Shaw, Shaw and Wilde! Anarchist aestheticism vs. socialist realism in perhaps their best and purest forms, a double-helixed locus classicus. Salomé, The Importance of Being Earnest; Man and Superman, Major Barbara. After them, who? More Irish: Yeats's symbolic ritual drama, Synge's vernacular pageant (The Playboy of the Western World—so good), and, among our contemporaries, By the Bog of Cats. Beckett is fine, Endgame more interesting than Godot. Among the modern English, I never quite got Pinter; Stoppard, Shaw's heir, interests me more, Arcadia being the best I've read or seen. And then, if we can stand in her blast radius, Sarah Kane, more for 4.48 Psychosis than for Blasted.

Modern American: We owe it all to O'Neill even if he's uneven, like Dreiser among the novelists. I like Strange Interlude, if only for the novelty, and of course Long Day's Journey into Night. Still need to read The Iceman Cometh. Tennessee Williams is best—A Streetcar Named Desire is the great American play to go with Moby-Dick as the great American novel and Leaves of Grass as the great American poem for a star-spangled gay-male trifecta—and then August Wilson, more for Joe Turner than for Fences, though I still need to read the whole Century Cycle. Arthur Miller: overrated, as I've implied.

I'll leave you to compile the shadow-list of my obvious omissions; it's terrifying when you start thinking about how much you haven't read.

#drama #plays #literature

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kurtcobainindresses · 2 years

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hiii<3

1 & 15 ehe

hey!!!! sorry for the late reply i tried spacing these out a bit to avoid flooding the dash

ummmmmm i don't really re-read books id much rather go on to the next book on my list but! i've listened to the audio book version of tsh narrated by robert sean leonard because i was curious so if you include that then that's my most re-read book.......

as for the review and recommendation id say hedda gabbler since it's the last book i've read. i love love love stories about plotting and cunning women à la clytemnestra, medea, lady macbeth or rebecca de winter and this is a perfect illustration of that. i think ibsen's characterization of hedda as a pure agent of chaos who destroys to fill the void inside her is brilliant and id say rivals even that of anna karenina or emma bovary but in an infinitesimally smaller number of pages!!!! thank you for asking 🥰

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rustyknifeguy · 1 year

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I want to take you on a little journey to explain how I came to create a true masterpiece. My magnum opus. Walk with me. It’s 2021. My brain is absolutely rotted, like I maybe have one healthy brain cell left and it is bouncing around like the little dvd logo when the player goes into standby mode. Covid and mental health issues has made me completely insane, most likely clinical. And I am sitting in drama class over zoom learning about exam technique and Hedda Gabbler and yada yada, when my drama teacher suddenly says “…You wouldn’t cast Morgan Freeman as Hedda Gabbler now would you.”

Now to anyone with a brain, this would be an understandable statement. It makes sense. But my peanut for a brain didn’t think it so reasonable. It in fact thought it completely unreasonable because who would stop Morgan Freeman from being Hedda Gabbler. And so my single healthy brain cell decided I need to bring this casting to fruition somehow. I needed to bring Morgan Freeman as Hedda Gabbler into the world. Prove her wrong. And so this masterpiece (tbh idk how accurate that word would be to describe whatever this is but anyways) was born…

But I didn’t just stop there. I then thought “What movie really needs more Morgan Freeman? What is the one film that could do with a dash of Mr Freeman?” And I thought of the perfect movie… Guardians of the Galaxy. And so the Freemanverse expanded and this piece of art (or monstrosity whichever way you look at it) was born. I give you… Freemans of the Galaxy

And a two little extra ones. With one of Morgan Freeman as Nebula

And one with Groot as Morgan Freeman. A little Switcheroo there.

In all seriousness, I made these when I genuinely was going crazy because of covid and mental health shit and they are truly… something. I have been sitting on these for 2 years and have not actually shared them with anyone so I thought now was as good a time as any to share it with the fine people on this beloved hell site. So enjoy. And I hope this maybe makes your day a little better

#morgan freeman #freemanverse #I was not mentally stable at all when making this #but they were made and so who am I to keep them from the world

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amandapanduh · 2 years

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Just some books about mythology I recommend.

#The Just City #Jo Walton #The Automation #Gabbler #BLA #Circo del Herrero #Lore Olympus #Rachel Smythe #Mythology #Myth #myths #mythpunk #godpunk #mythic fiction

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sarastudyingstuff-blog · 5 years

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Omg I got a rejection letter from an audition today (sucks, but it happens) and I guess the director just sent out a mass rejection to everyone he didn’t want because I just got another e mail and this poor woman sent her ‘thanks for letting me know I didn’t get the role, best of luck ect ect’ e mail to everyone on the mailing list

#acting #theatre #it was hedda gabbler and they were ralking about changing the language to make it more modern so im not too broken up #but they just bcc’d everyone the rejection e mail that didnt even directly say we werent asked for a callback #just that they jave chosen everyone else and left it to us to assume the verdict lol

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theeditorandnarratorcollaborate · 1 year

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#hephaestus #aphrodite #the automation #circo del herrero #pjo #percy jackson #lo #lore olympus #lo hephaestus #lo aphrodite #automata #gabbler #vulcan #venus

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forthegothicheroine · 2 years

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Throwback to my scene study class in college, where we made scrap journals containing things- pictures, lyrics, articles- to inspire our character. As Hedda Gabbler, I included the ending lyrics from Paradise by the Dashboard Light. My teacher did not recognize them, and reacted in a somewhat alarmed fashion when I read “Now I’m praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive, because if I have to spend another minute with you I don’t think that I can really survive.”

#meat loaf

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 3 years

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Brazil: berating and quitting of participant from the country’s biggest reality show after its first gay kiss spark debate about biphobia

The first kiss between men in the history of Big Brother Brazil - in 21 years of the existence of Brazil’s biggest reality show - became a storm of biphobia after participants Lumena Aleluia, Karol Conká, Pocah, and Nego Di accused actor Lucas Penteado of using economist Gilberto Nogueira as strategy to gain prominence within the program. The quartet invalidated the actor's bisexuality.

During the Holi Festival party, the actor and the economist carried out a hot kiss in the middle of the dancefloor, shocking everyone present with the exchange of affection. Unlike the joy that heterosexual participants Fiuk and Thaís Braz caused when they hooked up quickly, the reaction of several participants was to question Lucas's "real" intentions.

"I hope it doesn't end here.", declared Penteado after the kiss on Nogueira, who was euphoric. Arcrebiano Araújo and Pocah were left without reaction, and the model still received praise from the actor. "You thought it was a joke, you're hot!", joked the actor.

Lucas came out as bisexual in conversation with his colleague Juliette Freire, and psychologist and DJ Lumena made fun of him, despite being openly lesbian. Disgusted with the scene, the psychologist went to talk to João Luiz Pedrosa in the kitchen, looking for validation. "He's using him. He's a gabbler and gabblers gets sick! He's a gabbler. João, am I wrong?", Asked the DJ and psychologist. Without knowing what it was about, the teacher Pedrosa asked what she was talking about. "Lucas is using Gil.", she added.

"I don't think it's up to us to judge his sexuality.", said João. "I'm not judging his sexuality, but his game and game strategy.", justified Lumena. "But if he uses that for game strategy there, it might be a problem.", agreed the teacher. Then, Lumena claimed that Lucas would be using the LGBT+ movement as a stage to promote himself.

Shortly afterwards, the artist threatened to leave the reality show and began to be attacked by his fellow participants. Karol and Pocah kept shouting that they were also bisexual. "There are several ways to come out", wanted to teach the funk singer Karol. "You are not special, there are a lot of LGBT people here. You fell into your own trap, you did not catch the vision. There is no point in appropriating the LGBT+ agenda here, there are other people like you, you are appropriating serious agendas.", shouted Lumena.

"You are appropriating a collective agenda in favour of an issue that is yours, individual, an individual thing. You are appropriating a historic, collective struggle, in favor of an egoic demand, of your egoic demand. I mean it!" militant, accusing him of appropriating the LGBT+ cause.

"Yeah, think that I am toying with something that is me, because I do not know how to be someone else. And I will not live with other people who do not accept who I am.", replied Penteado. Crying, he lamented at the door of the confessional room: "I will not be accepted here, I will not be accepted when I get back there in my community, I will not be accepted by my friends, I will not be accepted by my family.", he said.

After the youngster gave up, Nego Di told Gilberto that his brother was being used by his rival, in addition to giving his opinion on the matter. "Lucas never said anything about being bisexual to anyone, I thought it was too much of a low blow for him to do that.", decreed the comedian.

The following night, Lumena seemed to cry after Tiago Leifert, the reality show’s host, made a speech about participants’ lack of fair play, saying everything becomes bigger inside the house. However, Lucas had already quit the program. "He tried as hard as possible to stay there. Lucas is fine, I called him today. He is fine. It will serve as growth and learning. We’re still on week 3.", said the host

Bisexuality 101

Bisexuality is a sexual orientation in which the individual defines themself as attracted to all genders, either physically, emotionally, or both at the same time. What should have been a reason for the LGBT+ public to celebrate, and to perhaps see a same-sex couple formed within a Big Brother Brasil edition, turned into a horror show with Lumena's selective activism in invalidating and questioning Lucas's bisexuality, being that sexual orientation is a completely personal aspect, in which there is no room for judgments by others.

Biphobia comes from heterosexual people and even from the lesbian, gay, and trans movement itself, when it disregards bisexuality as a valid orientation. For many, you can only be gay, lesbian, or straight, and liking all genders does not exist. In addition, bisexuals are classified as indecisive, promiscuous, and confused, with prejudice and erasure.

In 2016, the United States Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reported that 5.5% of women and 2% of men in the country identified themselves as bisexual in a survey. These numbers are higher than those of people who said they were “homosexuals, gays, or lesbians”, who answered for 1.3% of women and 1.9% of men interviewed. In Brazil, there are no official national data, but a study by the NGO Livres & Iguais (Free & Equal) and the Brazilian Institute of Sexual Diversity (IBDSEX) released in 2020 gives an idea of the demographics of the LGBT+ population here. According to the report Essays on the Profile of the LGBT+ Community, which interviewed 8,918 Brazilians, 17.6% declared they were bisexual. Among men (considering cis and trans people), the percentage of bisexuals identified in the survey is 10.7%; and among women (taking into account cis, trans, and transvestites), the rate of this sexual orientation was 39.5%.

But even so, bisexuals are target of prejudice in several areas. According to the NGO Livres & Iguais, "negative stereotypes about bisexual people include myths that they are 'wanting to get attention' or 'just experimenting', and that they are 'immoral' or 'unstable' ''. The organization points out that the denial of the fact that bisexuality exists, making it invisible, added to policies and services that do not meet the specific needs of bisexual people, are also forms of discrimination. "Biphobia affects people's ability to report abuse and access services, as well as the possibility of seeking protection.", notes the NGO in a document.

Bisexual people are also at greater risk of experiencing violence than the general population - and bi women are most at risk. According to Livres & Iguais, nearly one in two bisexual women in the United States has reported rape, which is three times more than the average for lesbian and heterosexual women. And it doesn't stop there: 75% of bisexual women reported having already faced other forms of sexual violence. "Bisexual women are twice as likely as heterosexual women to experience rape, physical violence and/or harassment by an intimate partner.”, reports the NGO.

Lumena, being a black lesbian, should’ve known better than thinking it is her place to point fingers at the sexuality of others, especially a black man who is coming out publicly for the first time. Nego Di, a heterosexual black man, should have known better too, as well as the self-declared bisexual and black Pocah and Karol Conká.

Sources (from which many paragraphs were taken and translated): x, x, x, x

#brazil #politics #lgbt rights #big brother brasil #lucas penteado #brazilian politics #karol conka #translations #mod nise da silveira #i cannot believe 2021 has obliged me to pay attention to big bloody brother and moreover *post about it* in my politics blog #lumena aleluia

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nehmesis · 3 years

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Books I’ve read in 2021; January / February / March 🖤

JANUARY

The Notebook, The Proof, The Third Lie: Three Novels by Agota Kristof (3.5/5)

The Good Earth by Pearl Buck (4/5) ❤️

Hedda Gabbler by Henrik Ibsen (3/5)

The Burden by Agatha Christie (2/5)

FEBRUARY

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (3/5) ❤️

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (3/5) (reread)

MARCH

Winter Dreams by F. Scott Fitzgerald (3/5)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (4.5/5) ❤️

Mrs Warren’s Profession by George Bernand Shaw (2/5)

#books2021 #April will be purely fantasy I can sense it

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mona-liar · 2 years

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Der Faber-Schauspieler und Lars Eidinger waren 2006 in einer Film-Adaptation von Hedda Gabbler???

#brb gotta watch #german shit

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puwumats · 3 years

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my IT lecture slides just dropped a new alignment chart.

tag urself - i’m communicator-gabbler

#not dnd #gonna start making all future dnd characters based off of these tho #like fr #alignment chart #im also a little of a shonk-rising tbh

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greatshell-rider · 4 years

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day twenty-three of quARTine: dedicated (prompt list)

Someone was tailing Keim through Hare Tail Market, and at this point it was making them suspicious. They paused at a stall selling off-world rattlers—specialized dice that made distinct sounds when rolled and let nightwatch games exist—and exchanged greetings in Wide with the plucky vendor, then let him prattle on about his latest imports while Keim scanned the bustling crowd behind them. They caught sight of a dark-haired boy merging with a flock of gab-tqits clustered around the crocodile pens, only a few mere strides away. Their lips thinned

“Uh, sir? Or ma’am?” The vendor chuckled nervously and Keim cut a sharp look back his way. “The special combo?” He shook a bag of gold-veined ice-crystal rattlers enchanted with anti-cheating spells enticingly. “What do you say? Erm—”

“A’sa will do just fine,” Keim said shortly. “Good day.” They tapped their fingernails in a polite, if stiff, farewell and moved off, slipping back into the current of market-goers before the rattler-seller could call them back. They kept their head down and turned just slightly to the left as they walked, and their mech-eye did the rest, swiveling farther than an organic eye could, and at Keim’s whispered command, narrowed its sight down to the same human they’d spied before. The boy withdrew from the gabblers, but quickly sidled along the far outskirts of a group of kzurls so Keim couldn’t get a clear look at him—except for his boots. Their mech-eye zoomed in on them, noting the foreign leather, and the demon in Keim’s skull cooed appreciatively.

Keim hushed it.

“But master, those are fancy,” the demon cried piteously. “I shut up at the rattler booth, I deserve a reward!”

“Hush,” Keim insisted, turning their gaze forward again. They lengthened their stride, weaving through the vendees with all the ease of one long-practiced at losing a tail, and scanned the upcoming alleyways for one with good convenient cover.

“A reward!” the demon wailed, a high-pitched shrill in their ear. “A treat, a tasty, a trophy, a shiny shiny snack! Oh please master, a shiny! A shiny fancy prize for little Srev, please master oh please master just one little present! I’ll cry, I’ll beg, I’ll clean your bones, I’ll—”

“You’ll shut up,” Keim snapped, fishing in their pocket for the small bronze key they’d picked up a few days back. The demon made scritchy sounds of overjoyed delight as Keim grumpily slid the trinket into the sac under their jaw and felt it skitter down underneath their skin to retrieve it. Keim shuddered as Srev climbed back to its perch in their skull; they’d never gotten used to the demon’s claws, light and ticklish as they were. “And stay quiet,” they groused as the demon happily chomped at the bronze key.

On their left was a stall shared by two vendors, one selling steaming flesh-buns and the other hawking appendage-knitted stockings, the latter holding up samples with four of her limbs while the other two restlessly shuffled and reshuffled a deck of fortune-cards. And almost right behind their booth, a crooked alley shadowed by overhanging streamers strung between the buildings lining the street. Keim strode up to stocking-vendor and held up a hand before she could offer any deals.

“Gold for a favor,” they said in Wide without preamble, placing a few coins on the weathered wood ledge with their hand over them. The bun-seller, sensing their desire for brevity and secrecy, turned away, though Keim was sure she was listening in. They kept their eyes on the stocking-vendor.

The vendor tilted her head, eyeing them. She didn’t stop shuffling the cards. “What kinda favor, stranger?” She had an accent Keim didn’t recognize.

They nodded at the dark-haired boy down a ways, who was edging around a ribbon dancer’s performance, barely dodging the snaking sashes. One caught his ankle and tugged, trying to pull him into the dance, and he hopped on one foot to shake it off.

“If he tries to go down this alley, delay him for as long as you can.”

The vendor raised her eyebrows. She only had a single pair. “Fortunes ain’t cheap, love.” She fanned the cards in her hands, making them twirl around her fingers in a spinning display as if the wind had blown them. “And who said we’ll let you in our alley?”

Keim placed more coins on the ledge. The vendor swept them away before they’d come to full rest and offered them a wide smile. “Deal,” she purred.

They tapped their fingernails and ducked down the alleyway, hesitating at the corner to turn their head and let their mech-eye spy the boy hurrying up to the booth, only for both the bun and sock sellers to all but throw their goods at him, making him slow reluctantly. Keim smiled, and turned away.

They walked quickly, sticking to the shadows, turning down side streets at the random, until the sounds of Hare Tail faded and they passed into a shabbier part of the port city where more refuse than usual clogged the gutters and beggars and residents alike eyed them as they strode by. Keim kept their head tilted, their mech-eye alert.

When they entered the halk-yon section of town, Keim finally slowed their step. Here the alleys became a maze, the beggars were replaced with unseen eyes staring from darkened corners, and Keim was careful that their boots didn’t scuff the cobblestones and their cloak didn’t rustle as they walked. The halk-yon was a quiet place. Even Srev didn’t whisper. Even the wind knew not to blow, but sneak. Yes, it was quiet, and careful, but people didn’t come here to run or hide like other slums. It was a held breath, a place to wait—and to confront.

Keim picked a street and walked down it, following whatever curves it took, until they reached a dead-end. There they put their back to the wall and waited. Srev turned a restless circle in their skull and Keim flicked their forehead to quiet it. They waited a full ten minutes before their tail with the fancy boots turned the corner, then stopped upon seeing them. Keim took a single step forward, and the dark-haired boy mimicked them.

The halk-yon began letting out its breath in a slow, continuous stream. They had limited time.

“Why are you following me?” Keim asked aloud in Wide. The alley was so quiet that the whisper carried easily.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” drawled a lazy voice behind them, loudly. Keim flinched and spun to find a girl sitting atop the brick wall that ended the street. To their surprise, they knew her. It was the stocking-vendor. She was missing several limbs, but had the same hair. And eyes. Now she looked like a human, the same as the boy.

“We have some questions for you,” the boy said. He stalked forward, pushing back his cloak to lay a hand on the hilt of a sword belted at his waist, and Keim backed up until they no longer could, their back pressed against the side of a building. That wasn’t a safe thing to do in the halk-yon, but both humans had already broken the rules, which meant the time for caution had passed. Underneath their cloak, Keim drew their left forearm close to their chest and began tapping out a series of instructions on the panel embedded in their skin. Srev perked up attentively.

“We know you have it,” the girl, still perched atop the wall, said in a too-loud singsong voice. Her accent was still there.

The boy came within striking range, and Keim held up their hand in warning. He stopped, but kept his hand on his sword.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keim said roughly, half-facing the boy but keeping their mech-eye trained on the girl.

“Oh? A smuggler of your reputation?” the girl said lightly, swinging her legs. She smirked, the same look in her eyes as when she’d taken their money. “I doubt it.”

“An egg,” the boy said, his voice low and . . . angry? What for? “Large, blue, with a hard smooth shell.”

Keim racked their memory. There had been many eggs. Still were. Srev helpfully brought up an image that matched the boy’s description. Remembering it, Keim went still. Dragon. But not just any fire-breather. They eyed the girl and boy with newfound suspicion.

The girl lifted her eyebrows, her expression mocking. “Do you need a refresher? A little help to jog the old memory? Jerry, maybe tell them—”

Keim gave a sharp jerk of their head, cutting her off. “I know what you speak of. But you’re mistaken. I don’t have it. Sold it long ago.” A beat. “Are we done here?” They had their finger held poised over the panel in their forearm, but hesitated. It was a slim chance, but maybe they could still end this without breaking further rules. Srev buzzed in anticipation.

The girl laughed, jarring Keim’s ears, whereas the boy’s expression hardened. “Hardly,” he growled, marching forward. “Who did you sell it to?”

Keim threw out their arm, as if throwing something, and the boy jumped back, but it was only a feint. “Stay back,” Keim warned, holding up their left arm under their cloak as if concealing a weapon. “I don’t disclose information about former clients. We are done here.” They began edging toward the alley’s entrance, back still pressed against the wall.

But the boy drew his sword. “Don’t move!” he barked, pointing the blade at Keim’s throat. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t suppose money interests you,” the girl offered half-heartedly. Their mech-eye saw her roll their own coins, the ones they’d used to pay her to distract the boy, over her knuckles, a trick visually similar to the fortune-cards she’d fanned.

“Fancy!” Srev yelped.

At the same moment, the boy lunged forward, obviously hoping his partner’s words had distracted them. He must’ve not known or understood how Keim’s eyes and mind could take in information from different places at the same time. Instead of trying to dodge the boy’s blade, or even block it, Keim stepped straight back, their finger pressed against the button on the panel. Where there should have been the wall, was nothing. Keim fell through the sudden hole in the side of the building, stumbling backwards into a room mostly empty of furniture or people. The hole closed back up as soon as they were through, as per the instructions they’d entered into the panel.

The room’s single occupant—a braac with chitin plating and dark beady eyes—watched them flatly from within a large tank full of a dark, boiling liquid, and wordlessly lifted a tankard of the same liquid in greeting.

Keim hastily saluted them back, then strode to the door and threw it open, heedless of how quickly and loudly they moved. They—and the humans—had already so many rules of the halk-yon, they were more concerned with getting out than following them any longer. They would deal with the repercussions later.

For now, they ran.

~~~~

Keim activated the final double-spell on their hideout, the rune glowing to life among dozens of others. Now the place would be both concealed from unknowing eyes and securely protected against knowing ones. It was a complex web of enchantments, paired with mechanics unique to Keim’s planet, and had been very expensive to put in, but was one of the many reasons Keim had survived in their line of work for so long.

They sighed, going to the grimy little cot in the corner of the bedroom—the entire hideout consisted of two tiny rooms, a sleeping space and an execrating one—and sitting down. They stretched out their right leg, a mech-integrated one, and began poking at some of the panels that had been acting up lately—most recently, when they had been running for their life through the most dangerous part of the city while pursued by humans who knew of that dragon egg. Srev hissed in indignation, and Keim slapped their head irritably.

“Want a shiny,” it grumbled.

“Not for a while,” Keim grunted, digging their fingers deeper into the gears. “We’ll be lying low for a while.” They’d been drawing too much attention lately, smuggling riskier items than usual, and the tail and confrontation were results of that. Not to mention the halk-yon’s revenge. It rarely took long for the . . . effects to take root. They suppressed a shudder at the thought.

They weren’t getting anywhere with the leg. Keim slapped the panels shut and limped into the second room, where there were some shelves of dri-food—rather, “food”—and oil packets. Srev gurgled unhappily, but that was its problem. Keim took a packet—their body ran on oil more than it did water, now—and sucked on it while lying on the cot, staring up at the rafters and the glowing runes carved into the mechanics. It would be a lousy next few weeks.

That was their last thought before fading to sleep.

~~~~

They woke to a blade held against their throat.

“Let’s try this again,” the girl said pleasantly, an edge of amusement in her voice. “Let them sit up, Jerry.”

The boy moved their sword back a fraction, and Keim slowly eased themself upright. A quick glance out the slit of a window in the wall let them know it was night, cool moonlight cutting a thin line of illumination through the room that let Keim see that both humans were dripping wet. They didn’t need any light to know they smelled like the sewers.

“Try and escape again and I’ll kill you here and now,” the boy—Jerry—said. His voice was almost calm, but still had a burr of anger in it.

Keim shook their head slightly. “The latrine’s as warded as the rest of the place. Did—did you break them?” They couldn’t hide their disbelief, or the uncertainty. They hardened their voice. “How did you find me?”

The girl hummed, pleased. “We’re rather committed to our task. You’d be surprised what two bored teenagers can get up to when they’re motivated enough.”

“Who are you? Why are you so interested in that cursed egg?”

“That’s not important,” Jerry growled. “Tell us who you sold it to. Now.” He pressed the sword hard enough to draw blood. Keim grimaced and Srev whimpered.

“No, we don’t bother telling them, do we, Jerry?” The girl slid past the boy to stand over Keim, looking them up and down with interest. Jerry scowled, having to readjust his position to keep the sword pointed at Keim, but the girl paid him no heed, instead kneeling and pulling up Keim’s trouser leg to look at the mechanics. She opened a panel, and Keim stiffened. That made her glance up, meeting their eyes. She was smiling. “Don’t mind me. Jerry?”

She continued prying open their leg, slowly taking it apart and investigating each piece. Keim couldn’t stop it from twitching, Srev going haywire in their mind, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Jerry leaned forward, stealing Keim’s attention. “We’re the children of your old client. We’re interested in the egg because it was our father’s. So tell me, and this is the last time I’ll ask. Tell me, who—” he rotated the blade, digging it ever so slightly deeper into Keim’s neck—“did you sell it to?”

#quARTine #writing #my writing #Lani & Jerry #this bad boy is so long alas #i wrote it yesterday but didn't have the juice to edit it until today #still fun tho!! i really like this one ngl

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