technically I have over 50k words now, but I'm still on a roll to the end of the day, so hey
Flashback to SUV mission
Cloud sat in the shotgun seat of the SUV, Lovecraft in the driver's seat beside her. Cloud's position may technically have been called the shotgun seat, but it was actually Gef who was manning the weapons on this escapade. Cloud turned her gaze to look up at him now. So strange. She had only been in this team for a few weeks now, had only been a part of this nameless organization for a few months. But she had already seen so much of the world, sights she never could have imagined, not even with her Inner Eye or any of her magicks.
Believing in wicca or neopaganism would be kind of like using the term "Jehovah" to refer to the Holy Name. Some of it was accurate, possibly even the basic structure itself was accurate, like the consonants in this analogy, but the consonants had been interspersed with vowels, which had been taken from euphemisms and other words entirely. It was just so wrong-seeming.
Moone referred to the nameless organization itself as the Tetragrammaton. Cloud thought that a bit sacreligious, in her head, but he wasn't wrong. There was power in the word, and a mystery in between, and just like Jehovah with Adonai, there was a lot stripped out, down to the bare bones of meaning. A lot of secrecy.
Cloud frowned, tensing up as hostiles approached from all sides. She craned her head backwards, over her shoulder and out the back window. Moone was still out there somewhere. Alone in the snow with those things.
Gef got a huge mongoose grin over his little mongoose face, and hopped up to the turret on top of the vehicle. Gef, the gunman, shooting hostiles, cackling his head off and singing Prince songs. The furry creature had excellent aim, but that actually wasn't too much of a surprise. He had loved guns almost his entire life.
"Maybe I'm just too demanding! Maybe I'm just like my father too bold!," the mongoose bellowed at the top of his tiny lungs, popping away the converging ghost women. The Krasue, as they were known, consisted of decapitated heads with all the major organs dangling underneath, cursed to glide around instead of walk; sinful gluttonous lustful women in the past life reincarnated bodiless and unable to satisfy their appetites. Whether this happened to males locally or not, Cloud was unsure; it seemed kinda sexist to her. She turned over to Lovecraft to ask about it but changed her mind, knowing that Lovecraft would probably just goose her about it and make up something totally ridiculous. That or straight-facedly deny the existence of the things entirely.
It was impossible to tell with Lovecraft whether she was being serious or not. Maybe she lived in a fantasy world? Gef, at least, was very probably in all likelihood schizophrenic, so maybe that extended to his soulbound lover. Those connected to poltergeist hauntings themselves tended to be, troubled. Cloud didn't know. She tried not to judge.
And if Gef did have schizophrenia, it was undiagnosed. He was definitely unhinged, at least. Auditory hallucinations, that may have been actual specters communicating with a fellow spirit. But schizophrenia, as far as Cloud understood it, also comes with delusions of grandeur. Gef was humble insofar as his absolutely jacked brain chemistry allowed him to be, and anybody who knew him could see for themselves.
Moone was safely inside. The databank from the ancient temple was safely secure in his possession. All involved exhaled deep breaths. Except for Lovecraft, whose eyes were still locked on the narrow rocky trail ahead.
And if Gef did have schizophrenia, it was undiagnosed. He was definitely unhinged, at least. Auditory hallucinations, that may have been actual specters communicating with a fellow spirit. But schizophrenia, as far as Cloud understood it, also comes with delusions of grandeur. Gef was humble insofar as his absolutely jacked brain chemistry allowed him to be, and anybody who knew him could see for themselves.
Moone was safely inside. The databank from the ancient temple was safely secure in his possession. All involved exhaled deep breaths. Except for Lovecraft, whose eyes were still locked on the narrow rocky trail ahead.
"Did you see me? Did you see?," asked Gef, scampering up to Moone, crawling up the man's chest and helping him remove the motorcycle helmet. "I shot those bastards all up to hell! Not 'up to hell,' I mean of course. Shot them up, to hell. Helluva hell!"
"I get it, Gef. We all get it," said Moone, shaking melted snow from out of his hair, and attempting to clear his ears out with his pinky. Moone didn't like it when Gef swore. Something about curses being, literal curses. Which made sense to Cloud.
For a man who claimed not to know much about magic, Moone seemed to know a lot about magic. He was humble. Unlike, well... Gef.
But Cloud tried not to judge.
Moone
"But, yes," Moone continued, stowing away the motorbike, which folded neatly into a magical pocket in the floor of the back of the SUV. "That was excellent work back there, mate. You really saved my bacon. So many ghosties on me, and. Bam. Pow. You're a crack marksman. Markman. Marksmon...goose. A marks… bull?”
Gef regarded Moone quizzically.
“Come to think of it, Gef, what is a male mongoose called?”
Gef grimaced sympathetically, and shrugged. “We’re just called males and females, mate.”
Moone chuckled and rubbed Gef on the head, climbing into the backseat next to the, male. He really was good with people. And mongooses. (Not mongeese. Gef insisted, and he was the expert on his family of felidiform mammals.)
Lovecraft drove into the day, the fog dissipating, until they were far away from the ancient temple.
For a man who claimed not to know much about magic, Moone seemed to know a lot about magic. He was humble. Unlike, well... Gef.
But Cloud tried not to judge.
Moone
"But, yes," Moone continued, stowing away the motorbike, which folded neatly into a magical pocket in the floor of the back of the SUV. "That was excellent work back there, mate. You really saved my bacon. So many ghosties on me, and. Bam. Pow. You're a crack marksman. Markman. Marksmon...goose. A marks… bull?”
Gef regarded Moone quizzically.
“Come to think of it, Gef, what is a male mongoose called?”
Gef grimaced sympathetically, and shrugged. “We’re just called males and females, mate.”
Moone chuckled and rubbed Gef on the head, climbing into the backseat next to the, male. He really was good with people. And mongooses. (Not mongeese. Gef insisted, and he was the expert on his family of felidiform mammals.)
Lovecraft drove into the day, the fog dissipating, until they were far away from the ancient temple.
brief MOONE POV to tie that to other thing
It was later. Moone sat near a cliff in the crooks between two mountains, overlooking a massive frozen vista, a frozen waterfall on either side of him. He watched as Cloud approached him tentatively.
"Where are all the dudes?"
"The dude, ghost, krasue? You, don't want to know. Believe me, you do not want to know."
Cloud stared levelly at him.
"Alright, I may have gotten my intel regarding them, from... Lovecraft. So it's up to you whether you trust it or not."
"Does she lie to you any less?"
"Well, it's all in good fun. I know she trusts me, and everything I say, even if neither of us can trust everything that she says."
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