My ostensibly 20 minute sessions are each lasting me like an hour and a half, as I keep on having to pause and look things up. At least I only need two sessions a day instead of three, as revising and clarifying my 1,000 words gives me average of 500 words onto that at least.
The first section here was exactly 200 words in the first draft- do I subtract 200 from my total in the revision? This is a genuine question. That 200 is part of my word count already, of last year. Those words already were part of my 50,000. Revising them, having 200 different words from the original ones, this year, and having 50,000 here, would 200 of those still be "last year's words" because they're interpolated into this year's words? Or would they be this year's words because as long as I have 50,000 this year it doesn't matter whether I have 100,000 between the two years combined?
macbeth meets with xemf
[MacBeth made his way to the place where] Xemf had been monitoring Moone's escape, and [encountered.] Xemf had been in its current form, infiltrated into the agency, ever since MacBeth's [killing] and Moone's escape of a month ago, and seeing Xemf in such a state was still something of an odd thrill.
Xemf spoke, the first clue that it wasn't the human being it was so otherwise perfectly disguised as. Xemf's voice was its own, Xemf's voice was the voice of Xemf: something deeper and more gravely than could possibly have come out of the smallish human frame Xemf had on itself.
"How goes it, Brown?"
MacBeth said nothing. He knew Xemf knew that he had failed in some terrible way, had allowed Moone to know too much. The Brotherhood. The plans regarding the list. MacBeth had managed to keep the NOC list out of Moone's hands, but Moone now knew, at MacBeth's own fault, that their plans had something to do with it.
MacBeth hesitated, knowing that he would only be interrupted if he tried to speak. He had done his best; had done nothing suspicious to tip his hand. If the Mothman had been the Mothman, everything would have been fine. Though working with Xemf, he knew that not everyone could be trusted.
There was no way to explain all this. MacBeth didn't want to speak, didn't want to even try to explain himself. But that Xemf was waiting for him to talk first.
"I--"
"You failed, you fool, is what you did!" The voice was horrible, like sharp rough rocks clattering away inside someone's stomach, heavy and piercing and slurpy wet in a way that should not have been. If the words hadn't stung- but oh the words stung!
Most of it was MacBeth just being told what he already knew. That exterior confirmation is what bit into him. If Xemf had chosen to say anything beyond that to him, if Xemf hadn't decided just to echo MacBeth's own thoughts back at him but rather employ something stronger, MacBeth would have been destroyed utterly by it.
"You let Moone know of the List. Not of our plans regarding it, but Moone is a cunning man. Plans can be changed, Brown. Or maybe this was our plan the entire time. For you to fail, and to see the justice and mercy of the Brotherhood.
"We don't need you, of course," Xemf incanted. "But you still have it in you to be the final blow against Moone. The Brotherhood will be able to slow Moone down, using our own powerful means. It's on your shoulders to find a way to track him down and take him out, in that delayed state. If you feel up to it."
The power of the Brotherhood. Xemf had an entire organization at its back, which MacBeth would catch inklings of from time to time. He didn't know how large or small the organization was, only that Xemf was not alone, and MacBeth hoped he would be allowed to join their ranks at the completion of this task for them. He didn't know the size of the organization, but he did sense of its power, his link through Xemf tracing back to whatever was behind it. There was something large out there, something thrumming in wait. MacBeth had seen it, and Moone had too.
Though this particular failure of his may also have given them great insight. MacBeth decided to press ahead and tell Xemf what he had seen, what caused Moone to appear so trickily as Mothman. There was already a clue.
MacBeth recounted to Xemf about the vision of Moone in the aural plane, in as much detail as he could remember. The aura on top of an aura on top of an aura, splintering apart and all taking up the same space. Bringing Moone to the voice, trying to recruit him into the same deal MacBeth had made.
"Interesting," said Xemf, its voice sliding back into a proper human tone. "Interesting. Moone's using Pontifex's aura to invert his boon and bane, twist it to his own ends, using his enhanced boon to cover the bane. Make a shield, of the kind that you're so proficient in, yes? Your little bubbles."
MacBeth showed no emotion on his face. Telling Xemf some useful bit of information, which it could dig into, showing that MacBeth's power had use after all; then Xemf turning around and belittling his gift in the very next sentence. It was maddening, but if MacBeth showed any sign of emotional turmoil over it, it would just have given the creature Xemf more fuel over him.
"But the bubbles are a solid structure," Xemf continued, hinting at something. "Moone's knot of boon and bane power is slippery."
Xemf spoke in riddles, but the meaning here was clear; such a system is unstable, and that they can also flip the enhanced boon and bane around the other way. Bombarding Moone with an assault of magical enemies, causing him to be able to fail. If Moone were invulnerable in the boon-over-bane state, just a flick and twist in the aura strand would erase Moone's boon. But as Xemf had said, they would leave it to him to figure out the push point.
"Such a structure need not be so fragile; in the right hands, the priest's magic could go far. The Pontifex truly is powerful, and could on on hand represent a tremendous threat to the Brotherhood. But of course it would be a shame to let such power go to waste. Moone dead. Pontifex alive. That's the plan as it stands. As much as you need to know of it at least."
They both stood there in silence for a minute. Xemf always had plans within plans, maneuvering everything like a chess board. Moone was a piece to be eliminated, Pontifex was a piece to be captured. Pontifex would trust Moone, but there had to be deviancy and subterfuge to get him to go along with Xemf's plans. MacBeth had been promised power, he'd thought he'd be trusted, but now Xemf was holding back revealing his true plans. MacBeth suddenly felt very small, an outsider, not really integral to the game at all. He'd been right there, within the ranks of the Brotherhood, but now felt like he played no part in either organization, was just being permitted to live, just another pawn on the playing field. And if there was one thing MacBeth pined for, it was to regain some importance again.
"How much am I allowed to know?" MacBeth asked.
The creature blinked, though MacBeth wasn't sure if it was him eliciting an actual response from the creature, had nonplussing it into blinking, or if xemf was merely fitting in with its human disguise, and humans blick sometimes is all.
"This much," said Xemf. "If you fail us again, there's more than one way to use a pawn. But we do have utter confidence in you, that you won't fail. Remember that."
The meeting ended, and Xemf slinked back into the shadows, leaving MacBeth with a queasy feeling.
MacBeth shuddered....
Xemf and the entire brotherhood were just playing him, each of their scaly reptile fingers on one string of his or another. They offered him what he wanted. They had given him power, taken it away, and told him it was his own fault, though they could have stepped in at any time. Dangling the feeling of power just out of his reach. But if it was so important to them, he could exercise the power he already had, by simply refusing to play along. They'd just find another pawn, though. Right now he was in a position to make a difference, and be rewarded for it. Be the pawn himself. Even if it didn't seem important within the grand masterplan, it was part of the plan at least.
If they truly were as powerful as they said they were, then they did have the power to find another pawn. But they had chosen MacBeth. And that offered him at least a morsel of feeling special, the power that he wanted, that he had the power to let them give him. It's the human weakness of needing to feel special and powerful that drives people into magic in the first place. The weaknesses of the supernatural world were built in, ripe for flipping.
Why MacBeth, though? There were other wiseards more powerful than he. He had gone to them, first, the way Pontifex had defected from his own people. Maybe MacBeth wasn't their first pawn of choice, but he was selected by them at some point down the line. They allowed him to exercise some power in taking Moone out; they'd offered him guidance how to do it, but let him choose the specifics for himself.
Which was a blessing. MacBeth was never very good at articulating his own strengths, but Xemf had gently guided him in a direction of suggestion. MacBeth did have connections with those who would be quite useful to him; that could have been it. MacBeth was unskilled in the ways of aura manipulation, but he had a cadre of old friends who were quite expert.
MacBeth entered back into the hallway...
Flashback here Cloud talks to Moone:
[she asks him something]
When talking to Cloud, Moone stuck to firsthand accounts, and promises of future actions and present intent. That makes it sound narrower than it actually was; the only real conversation piece that Moone avoided with Cloud was things that Lovecraft told him.
Moone had entered in a contract with Cloud that he would never lie to her; Lovecraft lied to Moone all the time, as far as Moone could ascertain. Not being sure what the truth was in relationship to the things Lovecraft said, left him with a general rule not to tell Cloud anything Lovecraft told him. Because he just knew it would only be a lie. Most likely.
Lovecraft had a terrible sense of humor, telling blatant lies in deadpan tones of voice. It was the way she grew up, thinking it obvious what was or was not "natural" to the magical world; acting like Cloud and Moone's coming from outside the world, even if they lived inside of it for most of their lives, meant they would never be able to understand the true significance of things, and prodding at that as much as possible. Enabling Finn's doubts and conspiracy theories equally; making up ridiculous claims on one hand or acting skeptical of the very existence of magic on the other.
In that sense she and Gef were perfect accompaniments to each other. They were perfect accompaniments to each other in most aspects, actually, especially if one were able to get over the "species barrier" thing.
Still, it was impossible to be sure. So he just avoided the subject, generally, when he and Cloud talked.
He could not avoid the subject here.
[tells her what lovecraft said]
the contract is made
Moone knew too well how easily they were to get out of. Ships of Theseus, you could tell which ones were the same boat as before and which ones weren't by the contracts. Or those who crafted their own vows' phrasing so that a literal interpretation would allow easy access out. (Djinn were notorious for this, and the easiest way to control a genie was through not a contract but control of something solid, usually a ring, that they're bound to.)
In the old days, possibly, all contracts had such a power, could actually bind someone to their word, but the power of a man's word had dwindled, until more and more powerful magics and magicks were required to ensure that everything was fulfilled satisfactorily. Or so they said, at least. Moone figured people were about as honest or dishonest now as they'd ever been. Where would the magic come from, why would it be so attracted to earth, if people had been honest before? What need would there been to have magic around the contracts? It was self-contradictory, that view of things. While the Bonding magic was an ancient magic, requiring promises to grow.
Some magics were living beings, they said. Floating like megascopic tardigrades somewhere, extending out tentacles to those who sought their powers, living symbiotically with all those who believed. Man being strengthened, and strengthening the magic with it, both growing more powerful, and growing more powerful because the other was growing powerful. So it was with contracts between two people as well, each building off of the other's promises. Creating a sort of certainty within the future, allowing the psychic bond to be more powerful, the beacon of futuresight to be more bright.
There were many reasons two people would have to make a bond together. Cloud needed to trust Moone with her life, and Moone entered into a contract with her; it seemed the cleanest way. But no, it hadn't been clean at all.
Moone needed someone to lie to, and to lie to him, and he and Cloud would never be able to be lovers, since love is a lie. Moone thought. It was something he thought about a lot. Maybe he'd needed to make the bond with Cloud because he wanted to push himself away, saw himself feel something for Cloud that he didn't want to feel?
"It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't trust you to be able to trust yourself."
"I'm not sure I entirely understand what that means."
"I'm not sure I know it myself."
Moone considered this, Cloud blue and honest in the moonlight. "You want to be able to trust me," he asked. "We could do that, here and now, if you want."
Generally contracts were semi-sacred things. Cloud had only entered into two in her entire life; Moone had entered into probably thousands. Some spellcasters has the ability to see the impressions entrance into such oaths on the soul. Some were able to read the wishes that one had made. Moone had no such ability, as a general baseline of his powers, but knew that his own spirit must have been covered in scars where contracts had sunken in. He didn't take them very heavily; just another method of stepping aside from an oncoming train.
But he intended to take this one heavily.
Moone and Cloud clasped hands and [RESEARCH. !!]
"I will never lie to you, or knowingly mislead you," Moone said. "No conditions." Usually Cloud here would cite her vows, but Moone needed none made. This was entirely altruistic on Moone's part. He didn't need a contract made back.
Cloud exited the ritual with a far-off look in her eye, somewhat shaking. Moone had felt that way only on a few occasions. His first Contract. The contract made when he was enlisted into the service. He wished that he were able to feel it this way now. There was the stirring of something there at least.
Even with the contract in place, the level to which Cloud trusted Moone astonished him. Implicitly, without question or hesitation. Someone normal would have held something back in reserve, but Cloud gave her all, was earnest in everything she did. She was more like her parents than she realized.
Here was someone who believed that bonds were immutable, someone who believed in the power of taking a man at his word. It was something Moone had only seen a few times before, all in children, none in someone as old as Cloud.
It was the last contract Moone ever made. The last contract, that is, until his bond with the Pontifex.
action flashback to explain the SUV????
Trees. Sun. Mountains, some blue and distant, some green and quite nearby. The convoy sped through the trees, plowing neatly through the snow. There was a turret on top of the car.
The sun was floating conveniently close to the planet, allowing light and heat and stuff, and plenty of gravitational pull which set the earth on a neat little orbit. Sometimes one side spun nearer than the other, and that caused seasons, a very nice feature. Here on this tilted part of the planet the season was early spring. The sun would melt the snow, heat up the ground, allow plants to grow.
Awesome action with a motorcycle, swooping in and making it into the back of the car! The avalanche, and the cliff, and the angry pharaoh chasing him with the horses and chariots. And the pyroclastic lava flow. Moone jumped the bike, slammed into the back of the vehicle, as the SUV took off. at, not quite the last possible second, but close enough to it that Moone would have been able to say to Cloud that it had been. "Last possible second" is sort of a value call. It felt like the last possible second at the time, but in reality, if one were to take parallel instances staggered only by the rest of the distance it took for the motorcycle to make it into the back of the SUV, there were three or four other parallel realities with closer calls than that and Moone surviving, though in one he loses the use of his left arm. [Maybe this leads up to the storming of the base?]
[alright so if pontifex is defecting why do they need to infiltrate the base, can't he just kind of leave? or does he have to look dead/ isn't there an easier way to do that then a dangerous stealth mission? i thought it was, they're framing the action on a rival paramilitary org or something]
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