Diaspora - Howls and Whispers
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Overheard as the family scatters after Coronation

(More problems should be soluble by application of dairy products....)   Meg: Who did the friend's hand belong to? And what was that thing? Not enough cheese before bed, must be the answer.

posted by M E S 8:59 AM
. . .
(The more things change....) Random: Look at me, I didn't know what I want and was generally considered a pain-in-the-ass. Now I'm a royal-pain-in-the-ass.

posted by M E S 5:45 PM
. . .
(Don't the KC's get a vote on this?!) Random: Let's just say that I'm considering knighting Ossian, to make you all responsible for keeping him from implementing some of his more...ambitious plans.

posted by M E S 10:05 AM
. . .
(She understands the family dynamic perfectly.) Folly: Since we've both got secrets to keep, obviously we should take turns poking each other with sticks 'til one of us gets backed into a corner, and see how far that gets us.

posted by M E S 8:29 AM
. . .
(Fun with Duality) Robin: One possibility is that you heal under the care of concerned and dutiful Rangers of Arden who protect and provide for you while we are here in this unknown place facing unknown dangers. Another possibility is that you become prisoners of a dangerous and powerful psychopath who will take the most expedient route and mutilate anyone who gives her even the tiniest amount of shit. Nooowww... the way I figure it, if everyone plays nice. No violence. No provocation. Quiet conversation and a sharing of knowledge and resources. And we all get to go with option one. Push me? Give me or my men any trouble? Option two. So fast you won't have time to count how many body parts you have left. Have I made myself clear?

posted by M E S 8:27 AM
. . .
(And then it's nothing but work, work, work - redux) Garrett scrunches up his nose. The prospect of permanent leisure doesn't appeal to him. Leslie: Oh, yeah. Permanent leisure is exactly what the life of a Royal is about.

posted by M E S 10:13 AM
. . .
(Gee, you think he might?!) Ossian: Enclosed with the note is a sketch of the City of Amber seen from the sea. Kolvir has turned into an erupting volcano. One can see the ruins of the castle up on the mountainside. A few small figures hurries towards the last ship in the harbour. GMM: A page arrives at Ossian's quarters, the same one who took the note to the king. The lad bows and says "His majesty wishes to see you, Lord Ossian."

posted by M E S 10:01 PM
. . .
(Obviously a sign of his taste and discretion.) Moire: Jerod. How should we interpret it that Corwin, King of Paris, would send, as his herald and representative, his lawyer?

posted by M E S 11:44 PM
. . .
(Lucky fellow, didn't have to deal with his own) Bleys: They are charming, of course, and have the red hair to prove it, but I will like them better when they have more to say than demands relating to what goes in one end and comes out the other.

posted by M E S 11:40 PM
. . .
(Lucky fellow, didn't have to deal with his own) Bleys: They are charming, of course, and have the red hair to prove it, but I will like them better when they have more to say than demands relating to what goes in one end and comes out the other.

posted by M E S 11:40 PM
. . .
(Unlike so many of his other relatives, who are liars lyres) Hannah: So what do you create, Mr. Dworkin, beside magic cards? Dworkin: Oh, a little of this and a little of that. Order out of chaos, occasionally. Do you play the lyre, Hannah?

posted by M E S 9:56 PM
. . .
(He'll fit right in) Ambrose: We're none of us altruistic, and yet you're offering to put my case in front of the king of Amber. Curiosity isn't enough for that, and I've been told enough about family history to know about fraternal love among our uncles.

posted by M E S 9:51 PM
. . .

(Up to speed on the redheads)

Caine: We might have to use a sorcerer to find out. If there's one we can trust.
Lucas: The two terms hardly seems synonymous.



posted by M E S 9:16 PM
. . .

(And our almost fanatical devotion to the Warden!)

Robin: But I've got two -- no wait, three bits of intell for ya, Nature Boy. #1 - Duh! I'm not Dione. Never have been, never will be, so you can just shove your 'eldest' right back up the hole it came from. #2 - Since the token's is Arianrhod's -- she's probably the one that knows what it's for and at this point, it's obvious that she's going to be the one to choose if either of us carry it. #3 - You are not nearly as telepathic as you think you are so why don't you just keep your fucking tongue off of my loyalties, K? Oh, and #4 - You are SO LIKE J'RIM it's fucking hysterical. 'Cept he's more subtle. And #5 - Since this is probably the worst possible time and place, I'll hold off. But when we meet in calmer, happier times I am going to mop the floor with you!



posted by M E S 5:55 PM
. . .

(Such as "what?" or "I don't understand," or "where's the tea?")

Bleys: A simple message, I hope. I will likely have to pass it via Random.



posted by M E S 2:34 PM
. . .

(Not comforting to someone who's been in Rebma)

Bleys: You should be able to see your way clear for the return voyage. I expect the seas will be calm as mirrors.



posted by M E S 9:15 PM
. . .

(Yeah, Adonis gets that a lot...)

Adonis: He sighs deeply - he just knows this is going to be taken the wrong way. "You should burn your clothes."



posted by M E S 1:44 PM
. . .

(At least it is if you're going to do it right)

GMM: Pyrozoomania is a hobby that takes some time when you're working with horses.



posted by M E S 10:54 PM
. . .

(Well, there's the breaking out in spots, and rapid hair growth at full moon....)

Garrett: I need to know if there are any other, uh, "symptoms" of having the blood....



posted by M E S 11:30 AM
. . .

(Don't worry, kid, she only stabs relat-- Oh.)

Garrett: Dame Lilly, I know you need to go meet your... friend, and I may be stepping way beyond me station here. But if you've got a tolerance for long stories, there's one I need to tell you, and I hope you can help me 'cause you've been very helpful so far and I really need you not to kill me.



posted by M E S 8:55 AM
. . .

(Form follows dysfunction)

Cambina: "Well, if Random wants it some other way, he should have been here to approve the sketches. You should have seen the plans I had to veto. Mostly Ossian's work, but some by people who should have known better--" and she trails off, perhaps realizing that something is wrong from Jovian's posture.

Mel: I'm sorry, but Lucas still feels that Bauhaus is a movement whose time has come in Amber.



posted by M E S 9:15 PM
. . .

(Maybe a nice horseradish sauce)

Conner: While speaking hypothetically I would gnaw off my own arm to escape Caine's clutches, somehow when it comes down to it I don't see myself chewing with relish.
GMG: [Replies we will not make IC #723] "I was thinking dill, actually."



posted by M E S 10:41 PM
. . .

(She forgot her shirt? Cool.)

GMG: "You ready?" Martin asks Folly, reaching into his shirt pocket for his trump box.
Karen: Folly releases Soren and gives herself a quick once-over: shoes, pants, Trumps, head. "Looks like," she replies, and holds out her hand to him.



posted by M E S 9:34 PM
. . .

(When it sounds natural to you, go on vacation with Random)

Leslie: Even as that comes out of her mouth, Robin rolls her eyes at her own phrasing. Yep, yep, she's definitely been around Dad again.



posted by M E S 11:20 PM
. . .

(Clarissa in a nutshell, again)

Lilly: If I understand the dynamics of the place you were holding her in, what would it have taken to get her out of there?
Caine: Massive force and reckless disregard for her life.



posted by M E S 10:57 PM
. . .

(The irony of Caine keeping this list is not lost)

Caine: Let me know in any case before you leave so that you do not get added to the List of Missing Nieces.



posted by M E S 8:45 PM
. . .

(Royal advice is not always useful.)

Random: If you get nervous, imagine the pattern in its underwear.



posted by M E S 1:46 PM
. . .

(And a spreadsheet by way of aperitif)

Lucas: You might have whetted my appetite with the merest glimpse of a page of double entry book-keeping.



posted by M E S 10:32 PM
. . .

(And while I'm wishing I'd like a pony.)

Random: Folly, this is my brother Caine, whom I've never mentioned to you, and who I hope won't inspire you to ask any questions about the rest of my family. He's probably here to check up on me or to do something nasty to someone or, combining business with pleasure, both. I'd like to draw you to his particular attention and provide him with a handle whereby he can try to hurt me though you. Why don't you two get to know each other over a beer? I've got to get on stage and de-tune the drums for the second set.



posted by M E S 9:19 PM
. . .

(He's not allowed to date, remember?)

Lilly: "If you have a spare moment this morning, I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you," she continues on a bit tentatively.

GMM: "Of course! Anything you'd like," says Caine. "I usually relax after a workout in the castle's hot tub. I'll get you one of my classic bellini's and we'll get drunk and you can tell me anything you want!" Ah, no. That would be Corwin.



posted by M E S 9:18 PM
. . .

(One nation, under Folly)

Random: I'm currently imagining a parliament of Chaos-critters, all trying to determine what it was that you wanted, so that they could all vote for it.



posted by M E S 8:00 PM
. . .

(For incredibly broad values of the word 'chosen')

GMM: "Paige," says Madoc, bowing. "it is good to meet you at last. My sister is positively thrilled that you have chosen to reproduce."



posted by M E S 7:59 PM
. . .

(He gets that reaction a lot.)

Brennan: Lucas? Are you trying to be... helpful?



posted by M E S 7:08 AM
. . .

(What's a picnic without aunts?)

Lucas: The thought of such an event for moi, combining - as it would - my mother, my belle mere Lady Vesper, the obligatory sand in the sandwiches, bawling children and copious wasps ... well, I think there would be less unpleasantness to be shivering on the meadows in the early light of dawn, with a sick realisation deep in one's stomach that in one's cups the night before one had managed to challenge Jerod.



posted by M E S 7:38 AM
. . .

(The sociopath of our generation fills in as the voice of reason? Uh...huh.)

Olof: Ossian hears a faint voice of reason way back in his head (sounding suspiciously like cousin Reid)....



posted by M E S 7:52 PM
. . .

(In which the forms are punctiliously observed)

GM: Ambrose turns to his uncle and gives what to Brennan's trained eye is the proper bow between the child of one God and the God's peer of lesser or equal status.



posted by M E S 7:40 PM
. . .

(It becomes self-explanatory, doesn't it?)

Folly: "It didn't stop [Oberon] from marrying his own great-granddaughter, though, did it?" Folly asks bitterly... and winces. "Oh. Bad example."



posted by M E S 11:54 PM
. . .

(The whole spirit linked to place thing gets a little dodgy)

Folly: If it's not gonna be okay, if it'll seriously interfere with your plans or mess up your relationship with your son or even just weird you out so badly that your shiny new castle starts to smell of moldy cheese and no one wants to live here, then... we'll figure something out.



posted by M E S 9:03 PM
. . .

(OTOH, she was a pretty fast woman to start with)

Paige: If we're late, there's no chance of making up time. I don't move as fast as I once did.



posted by M E S 8:23 PM
. . .

(The arbiters of Amberite propriety and morality are not expected to emigrate)

Random: How does he feel about all this? Is he willing to share with his old man?



posted by M E S 10:06 PM
. . .

(The legendary subtlety of Rebman diplomacy)

Llewella: And yet we cannot raze the embassy to the ground and spread crushed shell fragments over the ashes.



posted by M E S 10:05 PM
. . .

(Can you narrow that down some?)

Ambrose: I've had enough of the less sane end of the family.
Conner: I'm not sure that answers the question.



posted by M E S 9:56 PM
. . .

(Congratulations. You are the universe's trip toy.)

Folly: And just when I think I see how all the pieces are gonna fit, the Great Cosmic Toddler comes along and tips our little snowglobe of a universe on its end again, just to watch the colors swirl.



posted by M E S 10:28 PM
. . .

(IOW, I don't much trust myself either)

Jerod: I'm wary of family members with lots of power who ask me to do something when it might benefit them.



posted by M E S 12:49 PM
. . .

(...And let the Unicorn sort 'em out)

Reid: Any further murders would just make my life more difficult, unless it steadily decreased the pool of subjects, in which case...



posted by M E S 12:43 PM
. . .

(The dog-wagging of which all others are but shadow)

Caine: If they need to be stirred up, see if you can get them to call for war on the basis of Lucas's injury. 'The War of Lucas's Ear' has a nice ring to it.



posted by M E S 9:29 AM
. . .

(Just once I'd like to fight an alien menace that isn't immune to beheading!)

GMG: Girth's head flies off with the force of the blow, striking the side of the tent, making a bloody mess of the sideboard as it rolls off, and landing on the rug. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be enough to stop his body.



posted by M E S 9:25 AM
. . .

(The family psychosis cast in sharp relief)

Jerod: I'll have to keep my ears open in case I suddenly start doing things I don't realize I've done.



posted by M E S 9:14 AM
. . .

(Sharp and subtle are Lucas' divinatory powers)

Lucas: If one person dreams of a tower struck by lighting, we might interpret it as fear of impotence, but if twenty people do ... it might be time to consider low level housing ...



posted by M E S 5:44 PM
. . .

(Her usual what? Did I miss something?)

Tara: Lilly gives the queen a wasted questioning glance then shakes her head as she realizes her usual tact will be of no use.



posted by M E S 5:41 PM
. . .

(Or something, indeed)

Folly (to Random): Good god, man, we've gotta get a djembe between your legs, or something.



posted by M E S 8:26 AM
. . .

(Everybody needs a hobby....)

Caine: I have always prided myself on letting people have enough rope to hang themselves, if that was their desire and their destiny.



posted by M E S 11:29 AM
. . .

(Among less innocuous hereditary traits)

Conner: My mother has opinions on everything. Runs in the family.

posted by M E S 11:24 AM
. . .

Uxmal is so very unlike Amb-- uh...never mind.)

Brennan: All those loose godlings, jockeying for power, now.



posted by M E S 7:20 AM
. . .

(I hope not, given Chaosi appetites)

GMG: "What are you going to put in that letter to Eric's scholarly, lovely daughter?" Clarissa's smile isn't really hungry, but she does seem to have extra teeth somehow.



posted by M E S 10:45 PM
. . .

(And this is different from usual in what way?)

Robin: The girl is acting on training and instinct though, as her interior thoughts have become stuck on 'what the f*ck?!?'



posted by M E S 11:23 PM
. . .

(Because pride goeth before a Patternfall)

Random: Why you, why Soren, why Martin? Because I think it'll be very good for me to have someone around to remind me that I'm human.



posted by M E S 11:12 AM
. . .

(Robin can deal with Bleys. By 'can deal with' we mean:)

Leslie: Already she wants to toss Bleys down a tall steep mountain of glass shards. But she wants to help anyway.



posted by M E S 8:12 AM
. . .

(When is this not true for Dworkin?)

Fiona: Dworkin used to say it was a violation of the Principle of Logic.



posted by M E S 8:17 AM
. . .

(Cause, you know, girls are just icky...)

Clarissa: I think [Broel] was a little confused about the whole business of sexual reproduction. He really didn't like the idea that Benedict and Grandmother had, well, you know.



posted by M E S 11:36 AM
. . .

(Twitchy Clarissa quotation #382)

Clarissa: You know, if I just turned the seasons to spring, I bet those children would pop right out. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Having babies you could hold?



posted by M E S 7:19 AM
. . .

(Grew new eyes, but he still can't see)

Corwin: I think our destructive tendencies have as much to do with failing to recognize each other as anything else.



posted by M E S 7:11 AM
. . .

(Ever the mad, impetuous fool)

Brennan: "Grandmother!" he says, in a voice half-strangled with bebogglement and faux-admonishing. "Did you... you didn't run away from home...!"



posted by M E S 11:21 PM
. . .

(What was your first clue?)

Solace: I don't think it's your mother's idea, Lucas. I think she doesn't like my mother.



posted by M E S 11:12 PM
. . .

(Beats cockfighting all hollow)

Lucas: Watching our respective mothers together is indubitably one of my favourite spectator bloodsports.



posted by M E S 12:57 PM
. . .

(Lucas is rather unkind to witches)

"Actually," Solace says, "it was about your mother."
"Mon Dieu," says Lucas. "They've officially incorporated as a coven."



posted by M E S 10:49 PM
. . .

(Well, half a hole....)

Lucas: Clearly, Maman, my uncle does not pay the same degree of attention to his Shadows that you do to your wardrobe. I cannot conceive of your appearing with a hole in your pocket.



posted by M E S 1:05 PM
. . .

(More reflections on the family tumbleweed)

Reid: I'm not certain that Dara isn't her own granddaughter... stranger things have happened this far out.



posted by M E S 8:22 AM
. . .

(Behold, the canny, lightning-fast reactions of the consummate warrior)

Novak: Brennan is just sufficiently pleasantly nonplussed by that, that he forgets to pull back out of fear of cheek-pinch.



posted by M E S 8:19 AM
. . .

(She's family all right)

Folly: I've all the subtlety of a cat in heat, sometimes.



posted by M E S 8:12 AM
. . .

(What really motivates a King of Amber)

Soren: Like Syd was going to miss the chance to climb this monster.
Folly: ...or take his pants off.



posted by M E S 8:11 AM
. . .

(A soldier's advice: Never stand when you can sit)

Sir Archer: Complex problems are best addressed without the additional distraction of tired feet.



posted by M E S 5:06 PM
. . .

(If you didn't know how much the world had changed....)

Corwin(!): Do you understand what's happened to us all lately, Celina? We've been at war. I've lost one brother to madness, another to his own pride, and a sister to, to--and my father. Jerod's father is dead, and he thinks it was for nothing. Vere's father was the best of us all, and he sits in a wheelchair, his legs shattered beyond our ability to heal. Merlin's mother tried to kidnap him, probably to his death, at his grandfather's funeral. And the attack on Random's coronation left at least two of your cousins injured, one seriously. You're right, Jerod and Vere won't forget what you did. But if they want to discount it for their own reasons, if your brother wants to discount it for his own reasons, would it be so wrong to let us all?



posted by M E S 5:01 PM
. . .

(Ah, trust is a wonderful thing....)

Lucas: There is a difference between going in like a party of rubbernecking tourists on a whistlestop tour, and sending a team in for forensic research. I trust we are capable of proceeding like the latter.



posted by M E S 8:57 PM
. . .

(Such command of the obvious is almost subtle)

Ambrose: I'm afraid I spent most of my time in the depths. From there, it seems to have a bit of a cracked foundation, I'm afraid.



posted by M E S 10:58 AM
. . .

(...You're a piece of glass, left in a beach....)

Folly: "Oh, you noticed that little accident-waiting-to-happen, did you? Yeah, it's... complicated." She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her vividly purple bangs. "I have no idea how 'I love you, I missed you, I'm not sure I can be your mistress when your subjects need to believe you're happily married to someone else, and by the way I've fallen in love with your son' is gonna go over."



posted by M E S 10:43 AM
. . .

(Never, ever gamble with Jerod)

Jerod: "So his acceptance of the crown in Amber would be a convenient stalling tactic." He frowns momentarily. "Which means I probably win that bet because I'll be right again." he mutters to himself. "Crap."



posted by M E S 10:36 AM
. . .

(The only illness more common among Amberites is megalomania)

Lucas: And what a warm, glowing feeling it must give you to realise that your parentage will stand you in such good stead. Something akin to heartburn, I'd imagine.



posted by M E S 9:08 AM
. . .

(But who's playing lead....)

Soren: It's oddly comforting to know that the mad gods of reality can form a decent rhythm section.



posted by M E S 12:04 AM
. . .

(Having one for every occasion can get a bit cumbersome)

Lucas: I did once dream of giving Harmony Vesper a perfectly withering put down. So pleased was I with its efficacy in reducing her to gobbling incoherence that I sat bolt upright, awoke Solace, and demanded pen and paper that I might commit it forthwith to paper. It was indeed a masterful epithet, containing a sublime admixture of bile, wit and pungency in two crystal clear and well-honed sentences. But, alas! How often are we going to find Amber over-run by incontinent camels in a winter blizzard that produces blue snow? For those were the circumstances of my dream, and without that context, all my words would be wasted.



posted by M E S 12:16 PM
. . .

(Even Bleys' gift for sarcasm has its limits, after all)

Paige (to Clarissa): Somehow Father never got across what a wonderful place this is, Grandmother.



posted by M E S 8:49 PM
. . .

(One must have priorities in life.)

Lucas: I have decided to make it my life's work to find a good espresso machine that actually works in Amber. The simple principles of gravity permit one to draw an acceptable brew from a small cafetiere I picked up in a street market in a place called Tuscany, but it misses the evil darkness that the true afficiando desires.



posted by M E S 8:35 AM
. . .

(There's something Jerod's ego isn't big enough for?!)

Blake: Even if Lance is Jerod's better, Jerod's ego isn't big enough to make him ignore the training opportunities that sparring would permit.



posted by M E S 8:25 AM
. . .

(More vinegar!)

Random: Have you ever seen the pattern? It's a delicate tracery that covers an area more than a furlong across. I don't have it in me to write my name in the yellow snow across an entire furlong, even with magical help.



posted by M E S 8:22 AM
. . .

(Is she really disturbed or really disturbing? Probably both.)

Clarissa: "Granddaughter," she says. Then she pulls away to look at Paige's belly. "And the little ones. They're so cute at this age." The Queen bends towards the twins and waves. "Hel-loooo! Hel-looo!"



posted by M E S 8:16 AM
. . .

(It speaks and sings....if it's named and numbered, I don't wanna know)

Folly: Why wouldn't the people of Amber end up in Paris instead of here -- or why shouldn't they? Besides the obvious, I mean, that our beloved subjects deserve a better King than a great talking penis with a nice singing voice....



posted by M E S 10:57 AM
. . .

(Locking the gate after the horse has bolted)

Paige: Well, after my last encounter with a godling, keep your distance.



posted by M E S 10:11 PM
. . .

(16 bedrooms, ocean view, detached 3-bay garage, pattern....)

Folly: "I mean, this place --" She gestures as she looks around. "This is more than just a vacation house, y'know?"



posted by M E S 4:02 PM
. . .

(I'd say carbon-based life forms, but who can tell with Chaosi?)

Top Ten Rejected Answers to "What kind of women is Carl attracted to, Alice?"

10. "Breathing."
9. "Psycho Chaos bitches, according to Merlin."
8. "What kind of women isn't he attracted to?"
7. "Me, but don't tell Bill."
6. "All of them."
5. "He once said something suggestive about his favorite old battleaxe ..."
4. "Yes."
3. "He has a preference for the living, but he doesn't let that stop him."
2. "Your mother has a better answer to that question than I do."
1. "Female."



posted by M E S 10:02 PM
. . .

(Reid is no Daphne either)

Reid: If the truth is not as pleasant as they'd like, then diplomacy be damned, we're not going to make their lives easy or convenient.



posted by M E S 8:59 AM
. . .

(Surely Capt. Aubrey would not approve)

Lucas: I wonder if they have tight cannons in Chaos?



posted by M E S 9:22 PM
. . .

(Like Benedict without a weapon, Julian without an animal, Flora without a-- never mind)

Mel: "You saw Caine," queries Lucas, with just a touch of incredulity, "without an interest in the political aspects? I do hope someone was frantically scribbling notes to record the moment for posterity."



posted by M E S 8:11 AM
. . .

(Don't ask what you don't want answered)

Mark: Canareth's rider nods thoughtfully, and asks gently, "what are you the goddess of, Britomartis?"
GMM: "Surface to air missiles. But only the shoulder-mounted kind."
Mark: "Well, it's been lovely to meet you, really, but we must be going...."
GMM: "Have a nice flight!"
Mark: "Thanks, but it's such a lovely evening, I think we'll walk."
GMM: //Do we have any firestone?//
Mark: //I think it's highly probable there'll be an abandoned limestone quarry over that next hill. I hope.//



posted by M E S 10:21 PM
. . .

(More proof the Rubies are Daphneless)

Brennan: How long has it been in your flow?

Paige: I understand why you're single I suppose, if the first thing you comment on is a woman's weight.



posted by M E S 8:21 AM
. . .

(...And everyone gets delusions of grandeur!)

Folly: What is WITH you people?! I turn my back for TWO SECONDS, and you all turn into GROWN-UPS!



posted by M E S 10:21 PM
. . .

(And I bet he called it coping with the Real World, too...)

Soren: Auto-economic asphyxiation. He put on a tie and it cut off the blood supply to his brain.



posted by M E S 6:44 AM
. . .

(Domingo Montoya turned down the commission)

Mel: Lucas has a rapier at his belt; it goes with his current costume (and the grip is nicely colour-co-ordinated to go with the rest of his outfit. Somewhere is Lucas's rooms there is either a very large sword rack that no-one kows about, or his rapiers are specially designed to have interchangeable grips - possibly on a snap-in model).



posted by M E S 10:18 AM
. . .

(Get used to it, girl)

Celina: I didn't care for any of it. Everything around me being wrong.



posted by M E S 9:01 PM
. . .

(The formidable Benedictine grasp of the obvious)

Lilly: It has also occasionally been pointed out to me that I am a woman.



posted by M E S 2:07 PM
. . .

(First good idea I've heard all night!)

Soren: Considering that I no longer think I can kick his ass or get away from him, I vote we get him a guitar and let him play 'til we drop.



posted by M E S 7:40 AM
. . .

(Marriage gets you in-laws, love gets you outlaws)

Vere: I fear I am not a candidate for marriage at this point, as I have been sworn to another.

Blake: Uh oh...and I can hear now how the GMs ponder whether to make Vere understand the difference between love and marriage in the universe of Amber.



posted by M E S 7:38 AM
. . .

(Hope springs eternal in the heart of the investigating redhead)

Brennan: Signs of a struggle-- especially followed by Aisling's bootscuffs as she was dragged out of the room against her will-- would probably be too much to hope for, given the tidiness, but one never knows what might turn up.



posted by M E S 7:50 PM
. . .

(Next season, the fashionable parties will be at mausoleums)

Lucas: I would have said that people just die for an invitation to one of our little thrashes, but in view of the unfortunate happenings at the masquerade, perhaps that would not be wholly tactful.



posted by M E S 7:52 PM
. . .

(Fashion police on security detail)

Lucas: So [Aisling] has vanished clean away, has it? Or has it merely transformed itself into a comfortable looking armchair? I always knew that the day would come when we'd regret our five years without my mother organising inventories on the contents of each room.



posted by M E S 7:46 PM
. . .

(Restatement (2nd) of the Obvious, ยง721)

Lilly: No one trusted the redheads.



posted by M E S 4:59 PM
. . .

(No wonder Bleys feels right at home)

Conner: The Land of Peace is ironically named. I suspect I'll return in a week or two to attend your funeral.



posted by M E S 9:16 PM
. . .

(He has advantages and disadvantages as a spy....)

Vere: I must leave the navigation to you, Sir William. I have not yet been vouchsafed the state secret of the route to the kitchen.



posted by M E S 10:01 AM
. . .

(Take it from one who knows right well)

Lucas: I have to tell you that a living Amberite mother is by no means an unalloyed blessing.



posted by M E S 12:13 PM
. . .

(Folly's zero-point: Her performances always knock 'em dead)

Folly: Do all these conversations have to start with unconsciousness?



posted by M E S 9:44 AM
. . .

(Ah, the curse that is Nearly)

Merlin: When first I met our father, I nearly shot him with a crossbow. I think you have not done so badly.



posted by M E S 9:43 AM
. . .

(Like a Brij over troubled waters....)

Folly: My charming mother, driving people to leave the city? No one would believe it. Unless, perhaps, they'd ever spent 'quality time' with her.



posted by M E S 9:38 AM
. . .

(Well, gee, when you put it that way....)

Lucas: Let me see if I have this straight, for it is quite possible my mind is still mazed. There was a deadly attack on Amber by the forces of Chaos. They managed to penetrate not just our borders, but into our very heart, our very core ... The King's life was threatened. All of us seemed in peril at a moment when we were most vulnerable. It concludes with a sorcerous attack - the kidnapping of our Cousin Brita - and the trick with the cards which damages an awful lot of people, including myself and - as you've pointed out - many who were worse injured. Martin dives on his father to defend him, and they both narrowly escape injury and even death. We are left with a scene of appalling destruction and - well, chaos. And it is at this point that you wander over and ask if he's got some letters you misplaced five years ago?



posted by M E S 8:40 AM
. . .

(No, really, he loves children. With Hollandaise sauce.)

Monica: There are choking sounds behind Clarissa as Brita tries vainly to reconcile the thought of Master Reid and twins.



posted by M E S 10:00 AM
. . .

(Folly's parentage revealed: Brij = Flora)

Folly: If she knows it's me straightaway, she'll have set up a photo shoot by the time I get there.



posted by M E S 7:47 AM
. . .

(On certain topics, just don't bother asking Bleys)

Brennan: Don't look at me. Bleys told me they broke the mold after they made me. No, wait, that was after they made him, he said. Darn.

posted by M E S 2:15 PM
. . .

(Mayhap? Fat Chance....)

Soren: Right. I'll just ring my agent. 'Matt? Soren. Cancel all future gigs and tell my lawyer to sell the studio. No, I didn't join a cult. I'm going after Syd and Folly. No, I don't want to talk to your shrink. Matt? Matty, you there?' I don't think so.



posted by M E S 11:08 PM
. . .

(What Amberite earth scores are really good for)

Novak: Brennan is probably still on the hairy edge of caffeine poisoning, so he limits himself to just one coffee.



posted by M E S 9:12 PM
. . .

(And if this thought doesn't horrify you....)

Aisling: But you must know, Lord Lucas, that I was a spy in Amber... It is likely that I know more of the customs of Amber than any of my fellow knights save Sir Marius....



posted by M E S 9:02 PM
. . .

(Are we there yet? I have to go to the bathroom!)

Brita: "Mother. Brother. I am fine. Cousin Ambrose has ensured good care for my little aches and pains and it has been nice visiting with Nanna Clarissa." Can I go home now?



posted by M E S 11:18 AM
. . .

(But are you paranoid enough?)

GM: The servants bring tea and a plate of finger sandwiches. It's very civilized. If Reid didn't know any better, he'd wonder if he weren't being poisoned.



posted by M E S 10:26 AM
. . .

(It's not the fall, it's the sudden stop)

GM: [Cambina] smiles. "A girl should be allowed to have some surprises."
Brennan: "I'm sure those perishing of deceleration trauma will be most surprised," he allows.



posted by M E S 10:07 PM
. . .

(When I feel better, I'll audit a course in gross anatomy, I promise)

Lucas: I imagine as a policy it would rather stick in the craw - do you have a craw, by the way? I must admit, I've never been too sure of the location of mine, although I have a lurking suspicion that it's somewhere at the back of the throat.



posted by M E S 11:23 AM
. . .

(So if your brass ones aren't big enough....)

Aisling: I don't have enough leverage to warp you out of your chosen form. If your gonads change size, it will be solely due to your own will.



posted by M E S 9:32 AM
. . .

(And Michael plays all NPCs whose middle names are "The")

Karen: Ginger is in general more likely to play the Obnoxious Uptights (Flora, Vialle, Julian) whereas Michael mostly gets the Obnoxious Flamboyants (Random, Bleys). I suspect this is because Ginger is more likely than Michael to read etiquette books for fun, and Michael is more likely to have gone to school in New Jersey.



posted by M E S 8:20 PM
. . .

(He whiles away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers, consulting with the rain)

Lucas: We eat, we drink - lord how some of us drink! - we drug ourselves into pleasurable states, we whore, we plot, we scheme, some of us lurk and some of us learn - some of us contrive to do both together. Some indulge in vigorous physical activity - hunting, shooting - no, no, shooting is out in Amber - but fishing is a definite possibility .... Some of us prefer to hunt other game - I myself like to specialise in fishing for compliments.

Then there's the vigorous mental activity - the attempts to acquire knowledge both pedestrian and arcane.

But beyond this, and most fascinating for us all - there's the gossip. Who's out, who's in, who's up. who's down, who's slighted whom, who's bedded whom, which bellies swell, which minds decline. We look for strengths to admire and suborn, we look for weaknesses to probe, we look for vulnerablities to exploit.

I, of course, escape all this. You see me as I am, the contented family man, at home with my dearest wife and children, my modest efforts laid at the service of Amber ...

Above all, of course, we lie.



posted by M E S 11:19 AM
. . .

(The investigation continues apace)

GM: So you've eliminated all the non-persons.
Chuck: Not entirely, the furniture is still suspicious looking....
GM: I'm personally betting on Invisible Cork Golems from the Demi-Plane of Effervescent Beverages, sent by Father Chandon and Mother Moet.
Chuckivy: They have a good alibi. I asked.



posted by M E S 10:00 PM
. . .

(But you never will be able to plough the rocks of Bann)

Corwin: I've always preferred to raise troops the old-fashioned way: take a shadow under my wing and grow them.



posted by M E S 12:54 PM
. . .

(Even Brennan cares a bit about his image.)

Novak: A reputation as the stony redhead who heads up to pace the battlements is acceptable. A reputation as the crazy redhead who shrieks off the battlements a little after Sext... not so much.



posted by M E S 11:22 AM
. . .

(For some it takes betrayal. For some, true love. For Lucas, a bad haircut.)

Lucas: Much better to leave the Lucan locks unshorn and enjoy peaceful nights without the horrid rattling of chains and gibbering which, I understand, is almost obligatory for the vengeful spirit ...



posted by M E S 9:27 AM
. . .

(You know you're in trouble when Brennan is instructing in the social graces)

Brennan: It's 'small talk,' Merlin. Since Ossian is interested in languages, and is good enough to go get all those papers for us, it would be rude to cut him out of that discussion. So, we make small talk to let him know we're going to wait until he comes back. It's good manners.

posted by M E S 9:14 AM
. . .

(When characters discover they're characters)

Soren: This sounds like the plot of a bad fantasy novel. Your publisher will make you rework the 'wants his drums' part from the end.



posted by M E S 9:13 AM
. . .

(Big words for a girl named Folly....)

Folly: King Random the First. Yes, that's his real name, don't ask me what his parents were thinking.



posted by M E S 12:51 PM
. . .

(Only the most up-to-date, state of the art beer)

GM: Soren looks hurt. "This is a Pro studio. Of course there's beer."



posted by M E S 12:47 PM
. . .

(With Random around, who needs a jester....)

GM: Caine shakes his head. "Duty is Duty, nephew, but I'm no fool. That's the King's job and it looks highly undesirable."



posted by M E S 10:31 PM
. . .

(This is the life...)

Lucas: These treats you are holding out, Maman. The joys of being poked and prodded by Uncle Gerard ...



posted by M E S 6:37 PM
. . .

(How stressful, the life of a bon vivant/diplomat's servants)

Lucas: Would an invitation to tea necessitate calling in the food taster? Poor Gouteur still regards me with a jaundiced eye ever since those mushrooms in that rather sweet little Shadow along that Path from Kashfa. Well, unsurprisingly jaundiced when the effect of the antidote was to make him turn that rather bilious shade of yellow. It became quite an embarrassment taking him along to banquets.



posted by M E S 9:24 PM
. . .

(It's so important to be sure of these things)

Lucas: "Tell me about this impending duel," he adds. "I trust I did nothing so vulgar as to become involved with it?"



posted by M E S 8:16 AM
. . .

(Even Clarissa can occasionally manage understatement)

GM: [Clarissa] looks Brita up and down and says, "That naughty Cleph! I shall certainly have to have *words* with him and his sister when I speak with them next.



posted by M E S 8:12 AM
. . .

(Chaosi relatives are in agreement....)

GM: [Clarissa] turns the vibrant smile on Ambrose and offers him an embrace, which he accepts with the sort of glee one normally associates with small boys hugging a great-aunt with overwhelming perfume and bad breath.



posted by M E S 2:00 PM
. . .

(To say she's a bird-brain is not as unkind as you think)

Robin: Then she explodes from her chair with an furious squawk. Not wanting to leave her companions but not able to remain still, the girl paces the terrace near the table for a moment. A variety of angry and indignant clucks, hisses and squawks perk from her lips.



posted by M E S 9:31 PM
. . .

(The sort of motherly advice you can expect from Flora)

Flora: In the future, pray arrange to be out of the way of any sorcerous implements of death that are thrown at you. Or use your cousins for cover instead of letting them use you.



posted by M E S 12:04 PM
. . .

(Adding injury to insult)

Lucas: Yes, well this will look very good in the emergency room of Amber General, won't it? 'Hello, Prince Benedict, and what brings you here today?' 'Oh, I was fighting the Moonriders - fifty of them, or thereabouts, fighting them single-handed, despatched them all, of course, but I picked up the veriest scratch - perhaps you could have a look at it.' 'Certainly, your Highness... and what can we do for you, Prince Julian?' 'Oh, I got into a bit of a tussle with a manticore over Arden. Brought the brute down of course, slew him single-handed and chopped off his head, but his confounded tail caught me a bit of a blow, compressed my armour into my ribs. Grateful if you could take a look.' 'Of course, your Highness ... and here is Lord Lucas. What dangerous conflict have you been in, my Lord?' 'I was hit on the head. By a playing card.'



posted by M E S 12:03 PM
. . .

(Why Folly hung out with Random, not Caine)

Karen: Preferably listen through headphones, if available -- because for Folly, Musician instincts way way way trump Staying On Your Guard Because You're Sneaking Around Someplace You Just Broke Into instincts.



posted by M E S 10:36 AM
. . .

(A plan for everything, and everything in its plan)

Reid: May I ask your plan for the fiends in the wood? Clever reconnaissance, or full frontal assault?"

Robin: There's... complications, Reid. Right now, I'm considering full frontal reconnaissance.

posted by M E S 7:31 AM
. . .

(Takes on a whole different meaning when Chaosi say it)

GM: "I do not have any more of myself to exchange either," says Merlin. "I will have to remedy this."



posted by M E S 11:00 PM
. . .

(Poor Reid, always getting the no-fun jobs....)

Reid: Seems like everyone wanted [Harga'rel] dead. Don't know that we'll benefit by narrowing it down to the individual with the stones to actually follow through, in my opinion.



posted by M E S 7:57 AM
. . .

(Gee but it's great to be back home)

Karen: Martin probably realizes that the probability of Folly getting bored in a recording studio is somewhat smaller than that of a child getting bored in a toy store.



posted by M E S 7:48 AM
. . .

(Nothin' up my sleeve...Presto!)

GM: Caine turns into a portrait gallery

Meera: Wow! Neat trick if you can do it!



posted by M E S 12:36 PM
. . .

(Please wait until all R&D personnel are out of the chamber....)

Vere: How fortunate that the nephew who is to make the initial experiment is the one of least rank within the immediate family.



posted by M E S 12:32 PM
. . .

(The unending joys of filial diplomacy)

Bleys: Handling Mother will involve negotiation. It's simply not done to assault one's own mother, especially since she made a point to mention her Bronze Legions to me last night.



posted by M E S 12:19 PM
. . .

(Redhead-level cosmology - from Jerod?)

Jerod: After a moment he makes his decision, turning to look at Corwin. "Dad couldn't have ruled Amber, even if Brand and the redheads hadn't worked against grandfather. It wasn't his vision. It was someone else's. Even you could not rule Amber. As much as you and dad fought and killed and schemed, it would not have happened even if one of you had been a clear victor." Jerod says, quietly, dispassionately. Even without saying it, his message is clear. His father died for nothing.

"What's going to happen to Amber, Uncle." Jerod asks. "It's faded, faded a long way. I didn't realize how much until we came here. Can it even be restored? Or should it?"



posted by M E S 8:32 AM
. . .

(The current state of family relations)

Brennan: Bear in mind all the time that I've never met the boy except to throw a knife at him.



posted by M E S 8:09 AM
. . .

(The trouble with poet is, how do you know it's deceased? Try the priest.)

[Reid] nods toward the body. "I wasn't planning on taking it with me back to my room. I'd suggest the kitchens, as he's pretty pickled, or might make a nice flambe, but I'll leave that up to you."



posted by M E S 7:53 AM
. . .

(They have to sit in the back of the sub)

GM: Sir William pretty obviously disapproves of the proprietor's disapproval. He mutters something under his breath about woolworths* and triton sit-ins that makes no sense at all.



posted by M E S 10:40 PM
. . .

(How I wish I was, homeward bound....)

[Folly] starts with the gardens -- the garlic and avocados and orange trees and artichokes -- and not just the sights but the smells as well, sweet and sharp and tang and mellow, ocean-salt and fields left fallow, citrus and spice and the produce of home -- as it grows by the road near the ocean by the truckload, all along the road to Texorami.

And then the sun -- the size, the brightness, shining its lightness in golden-and-whiteness to dapple the ocean like diamonds in motion with sunset rays that pierce the haze to set ablaze the winding ways to Texorami.

A beacon, a lighthouse -- it pierces the twilight like knives through a skylight, the dance of its beams like a thing out of dreams, like a fairy-fire sweeping the earth like a living thing, keeping just out of their berth like a living thing, hiding just out of their sight 'til it reappears, lighting the night with an eerie delight as they glide the seaside ride to Texorami.

And always, always, the sound of the surf as it's pounding the turf in an endless dance all along the expanse of the road to Texorami.

And now the road, the petrol bass, expanding, crescendoing, changing its pace, it merges and grows like a surge from below to emerge in a rise toward the night-pink skies, and the lanes full of cars sweep along toward the stars...'til they all crest the hill and are awed by the thrill of the sight of the city, a jewel in the night shining brighter than light from the stars and the moon...

(Folly takes a few deep breaths as she blinks at the sight in front of them. She is exhausted, and almost out of voice -- but she smiles with pure joy as their headlights sweep past a little green marker: Texorami... 15. "...And you can follow the signs from here," she says, beaming.)

...and there endeth the tune of the road to Texorami.



posted by M E S 9:47 PM
. . .

(Drink up, me hearties...$DEITY knows you'll need it)

GMG: Bleys says nothing, but crosses to the bar and starts mixing a drink for his sister. The tomato-based concoction he's creating is known in less couth circles as a Bloody Clarissa, but no one in the room would describe it so.



posted by M E S 10:06 AM
. . .

(Two great tastes that shouldn't be in the same time zone together - that's Clarissa all right)

Bleys: "Oh, she's not so bad, just opinionated. Imagine a cross between Brita and Lucas."

Conner just blinks for a moment. "I tried to and my brain rebelled at the notion."



posted by M E S 9:38 PM
. . .

(Not the only advice Gerard could give, but definitely the soundest)

Vere: If nothing else you could remind me once again not to stop for long periods of time to analyze exactly what is occurring during my walk on the Pattern.



posted by M E S 9:28 PM
. . .

(Not on top of or under?)

Behind her smile, [Celina]'s calculating what would be required in throwing herself bodily in front or behind Sir William to prevent anything from spoiling the day.



posted by M E S 12:59 PM
. . .

(Our generation is not long on diplomats)

Aisling: [Martin] was damaged, worried, angry; he was approached by a creature he disliked who attempted to distract him with inanities; he did not bother to think twice.

Lilly: Did you?



posted by M E S 10:33 PM
. . .

(But please to call it 'tactical advantage')

Brennan: Warn them? I can't get in a good sucker punch, if you go about warning them, can I? Hurmph.



posted by M E S 7:39 AM
. . .

(And she wrote it in crayon)

Robin: Reid I am leaving the Castle Ne Could we meet to talk about tur stuf paths? Youll have to find me as I don't know where either of us is.
Thank you Robin



posted by M E S 7:27 AM
. . .

(Ah, but it was a good week....)

Reid (drinking the champagne that drowned Hargar'el): Nice vintage, but not as much body as one might like. Perhaps that was the motive.



posted by M E S 7:13 AM
. . .

(Dramatic minor chord)(Shrubbery)

Moire: Do not concern yourself with Amber. It is a dead city and has merely failed to notice it and I see no signs that new growth will spring from its corpse. The political intrigues of a world that has passed will not long be remembered, not in Rebma, Paris, or ... anywhere else the Faiella-bionin may lead. Our objectives with respect to Amber are to treat kindly those who once lived there and avoid being in harms way of her death-rattle.



posted by M E S 6:59 AM
. . .

(Well, there are reflections, and there are reflections...)

Celina: "King Corwin wouldn't be thinking that this court is back-biting eels, would he?"



posted by M E S 12:08 AM
. . .

(Robin, Amber's most brilliant conversationalist)

Robin: "You and Dad. Me and Vere. You and me.... Mom." She ends softly. "Did you want to..." the girl shrugs a little helplessly, sympathy in her green eyes, "I don't know, talk about any of that."



posted by M E S 9:58 AM
. . .
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