Sometimes I write things

“There’s a park…”

Datur slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Will you at least change your tie?”

“I like this tie!”

“There’s always the kiddie pool,” Cassie says.

Feh to the kiddie pool, says her bosom chum. The kiddie pool is filled with kiddies, and with things – substances – worse than kiddies.

“The eagle represented American values, and the jackals tearing it apart were John Ashcroft and Ted Olsen,” Alvin says, hoping this will jog her memory.

“What did you run for, again?”

Alvin does not run for office. Alvin isn’t that guy. Alvin is the guy behind the guy, the man behind the curtain who treads lightly and steps well. Alvin moves in secret through the political waters, agent of the higher powers, pulling strings and buying time. He is management.

“Uh-huh.”

So, can Millie explain why she didn’t vote?

Millie chews her lip in a manner Alvin finds distressingly erotic, as she’s almost young enough to be his daughter. “Because of the margins,” she finally says.

The margins?

“Yeah. The election went, what, 62-38? That’s a twenty-four point gap. One vote’s not going to make a difference; this is a red state and a red district. There’s only a few states that are even slightly in contention in presidential elections, these days: Ohio, Florida, New Hampshire… Indiana’s firmly in the GOP column. If my vote doesn’t count in the presidential election, why should I bother with small-fry like the state senate race? The political reality being what it is, it’s pointless.”

Cassie holds it up to the light, and sees a pair of goldfish swimming in the bag. Ooh! she says, her buttons pushed. Wait, there’s something else in the bag. There’s a key sitting on the bottom of the bag.

There might be a key in the bag, Dale says knowingly.

There is, there’s definitely a key in the bag, Cassie says, and shows it to him.

It might be the key to the back gate of the Ball State outdoor pool, Dale says in the same knowing tone.

“Yeah, what clan are you? What kind of vaempyre?” the clerk asks.

“I’m… warm,” Andrew says, resigned.

“Oh, then I turned you,” the clerk says. She’s still on her hands and knees on top of Andrew, who’s still lying on his back on the ground.

“Okay,” says Andrew.

“But it must be a secret! My brother in darkness, Morgan, has forbidden the turning of new get!”

“Okay,” says Andrew.

“You can help me. Together, our powers combined will be enough to vanquish Morgan and seize control of the cabal! Not even Mobius could stand against us then!”

“Okay,” says Andrew.

“If anyone asks, you’re not mine, you’re… the scion of an Elder from Des Moines, newly arrived in the area.”

“Okay,” says Andrew.

“Come to my apartment Saturday at six o’clock,” the clerk says. “I’ll meet you first and get you dressed properly and then introduce you to Morgan and the others.”

Ferdinand is standing in the doorway of the warehouse, looking on wide-eyed as Datur, resplendent, shouts down her opposition. A cut to Ferdinand’s POV: panning shots of black-and-white dingy LARPers gives way to Datur, in living color (not the distorted miscolor of Aphids, either, but rich wine and burgundy shades) and slo-mo and practically glowing. Music swells.

Superimposition of Ferdinand’s character sheet over the practically-glowing Datur. First, pan down to the ten-dot track and erase all ten dots. Second, pan up to the Life Goals section.

LIFE GOALS:
1) Make Fabulous Movies Without Compromising Integrity
2) Let Datur Down Gently
3) Win Three Consecutive Best Director Oscars
4) Love and Be Loved, Cultivate Friendships
5) Stay Physically Fit, Read More, Develop Well-Rounded Lifestyle
6) Remake the Thin Man

becomes

Morgan’s visibly shaken. But he’s part of their triptych now! Surely he’s not going back to that kiddie Dungeon game? Hasn’t he graduated from roll-playing to role-playing?

Andrew says he feels like the third wheel, now that Luculus is out and it’s just Anjelina and Morgan. Plus there’s the whole vibe, he’s not totally into that. There’s such a thing as being too into a game.

Millie is taken aback some but she recovers quickly. She stops what she’s doing and moves to the bar, across from him. Extended shot of his profile on the left and hers on the right, as she peppers him rapidly with questions, and he gives a quick response to each.

Otho leads Ferdinand around a corner, and suddenly he’s face to face with Sting.

“Hi,” Ferdinand says to Sting.

“Hullo,” Sting says, and extends his hand for Ferdinand to shake.

“I’m sorry but no! You can’t separate the work from the man, put in little dividers! Orson Wells was a horrible misogynist, and that by itself, it makes it impossible to ignore those themes in his work, it carries through strongly in every one of his films from Touch of Evil all the way back to his radio stuff, I mean really, Hitler was a painter, need I say more? Do people look at Hitler’s paintings now and try to respect them as…”

At the far side of the party, opposite Ferdinand, a slim brunette in a pastel sundress, hair slightly askew, talking to someone unimportant. Ferdinand can see her over Sting’s shoulder.

“Uh-huh,” says Ferdinand, and puts his empty martini glass in Sting’s extended hand. He nods, distantly, as a nonplussed Sting takes the glass, then walks past the rock star, eyes on the woman in the badly ironed green dress. Behind him, Otho starts telling Sting what a joker Ferdinand is.

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying about Orson Wells. Surely you’ll admit that it’s necessary to view a piece of art within its own context and judge it by the standards of its day? Until the 1970s movies featured women in at best prefeminist, frankly sexist roles; what may have seemed a progressive statement at the time, like, oh, Have Another Drink, is necessarily going to come across as reactionary this far in the future.”

Ah. That’s how he found them, was through the game. Jack pulls from his pocket a wrinkled “Dungeon Majesty” flier as seen in episode 1.1 Owlbear. On the back is written in black magic marker:

John Silver, the Treasure that you Seek is located Here. –KESTREL.

“Andrew, who’s Kestrel?”

“I never knew until today,” Andrew says.

Oliver asks who Kestrel is. Who is Kestrel? Kestrel sent his father to Muncie. Kestrel set him up! And Andrew is Kestrel’s friend! It’s like, Andrew’s friend double-crossed Oliver’s father! His father! And Andrew won’t tell him who Kestrel is! Oliver hates Kestrel! Oliver hates Andrew for being Kestrel’s friend!

Andrew asks her why she stopped writing Dungeon Majesty material so early in the game’s history — nothing after 1975 — and she shrugs and says that originally it was just her and Dave and Rob and a handful of others up in Wisconsin, and as it got bigger it got away from her.

Andrew asks her why the bird motif. She’s confused at first; he has to spell it out for her. Blueheron Castle, the Citadel of the Jade Pelican, Escape from Blackbird Manor…? Huh. She never really thought about why — it was just something to tie the modules together and give them a sort of definite flavor, a Dungeon Majesty feel.

Andrew observes that Siddartha Gotama (he mangles the pronunciation a little) called birds the messengers of heaven. (Buddhism, he knows, is big with Kestrel.)

“Huh,” says Mary Lukas.

This crushes Andrew. Could he have been wrong about Kestrel? Where did he make his mistake? Or is she just being really, really cagey? He asks for her autograph, which she cheerfully provides, and as he walks away he compares it to Kestrel’s handwriting on the note to Jack. No match.

hyperdichromasy
extreme color blindness
one in a million in the general population
very strong hereditary
father to son

“Name one,” Datur says, challenge in her tone.

“Well… my life has completely fallen apart without you.”

Datur sniffs. “That’s your own fault.” She turns her head away, but looks at him sidelong.

Again, this wasn’t what Ferdinand was hoping for. “I know,” he says carefully. “You’re right. That is my fault. And what I’m saying…”

“Ferdinand, where are you going with this?”

“I want you back,” Ferdinand croaks. “I want to win you back. I want you on my side. And I’m still working on the grandiose gesture thing — I want to get that right — so, what I’m looking for from you is, like, some acknowledgement of… so I don’t feel it’s all in vain, I mean…” He trails off, and waves vaguely towards the middle distance.

Dale’s car isn’t a four-door, so Cassie has to get up to let Chip out. In Chip’s front yard, just barely outside Dale’s hearing, Chip tries to talk to Cassie, maybe apologize.

“Was this a date?” he asks quietly. “Are you two dating? Did I ruin your date?” He’s all passive-aggressive.

“It’s digital, actually, so no wasted tape –”

“Stop it!”

Ferdinand does. “Look, the point is to capture you during your normal day-to-day activities. I need the camera to do that.”

Alice’s attention is focused on her coffee and stirring milk into it without spilling it. It’s a strenuous task. “Oh, well,” she mumbles, “he’s crazy about you.”