#Dum dum duuuummm

[catscratching]

Protection

She was tired.  In the stories, the protagonist was always in the right place at the right time to hear the whispers they sought.  They practically had a shaft of light highlighting the villain – who, according to Seda’s beloved novels – always monologued endlessly and explained their reasoning to the hero, exposing all their weaknesses in an irresistible display of hubris.

Real life was never so tidy or accommodating.  She had drunk more than intended, sitting in the tavern patronized by Eastern visitors, pouring drinks and pretending avid interest in exchange for gossip and information.  Her head pounded in time with her heartbeat, and she wanted nothing more than to take off her shoes, strip off her sake-splashed clothing, and crawl into bed and the warmth of Fakhri’s arms.

There had been stirrings too nebulous to qualify as whispers that some of the shopkeepers were getting visits in the wee hours of the night; extortion offered with a pretense of protection against other extortionists.  Unsurprisingly, no one had been willing to talk – or admit they were paying for ‘insurance’ for their homes or businesses. 

Lacking other ideas, she’d begun frequenting the taverns patronized by outlanders and visitors.  If she couldn’t get victims to talk, perhaps she could approach it from the other end and figure out how they were selecting targets.  There was no reason to believe the perpetrators weren’t locals; but the practice had not, as near as she was able to determine, been a problem before the influx of newcomers.

That was why she was wobbling home in the cool hours before dawn, her barfly persona that of a moderately well-to-do modiste come to make her fortunes.  So of course she must dress in the cutting edge of fashion out of Sharlayan – and apparently the women there did not walk for any sort of distance, because these shoes were torture devices disguised as footwear.

They emerged from the shadows without warning – not even the scrape of leather soles on stone to betray them.  There were three, large and hulking, their shapes obscured by cloaks and masks.  If she had been what she pretended to be, she would have been terrified.  As it was, her reaction was less of a pretense than she would have liked; her breath whistled in her chest as she inhaled to scream, whirling to put her back to a wall.

“Peace, jamiilah,”  There was a flash of white as the tallest smiled, the setting moon catching his teeth.  “We only wish to talk.  You are friendly, yes?  You spend all night drinking and smiling, perhaps you will share a drink with us.”

Several hours later, she stepped into the flat she shared with Fakhri, disheveled and barefoot.  One of the expensive shoes dangled from her fingers, she had no idea what had happened to the other – its fellow could join it, for all she cared.

The bed sang its siren song, but there were more important things to tend to.  Stripping her clothing off as she went, she paused to pick up a linkshell, activating it as she lifted it to her ear.

“Nazli?  Seda.  Can you clear my schedule for the morning, please?  I had a long night.” She didn’t wait for the affirmative; Nazli was conscientious and efficient, worth her weight in gold in any organization she chose to serve.   The young woman would ensure that any appointments were rescheduled, and that anyone looking for her would be redirected to another staff member, or asked to return.

As she stepped into the shower, she let out a long breath.  The hot spray of water washed away some of the fatigue;  stiffness eased as it cascaded down her body.   She turned her face into the stream and winced as it struck the split in her lip, a ghost of pain lancing through it.

The men she had met were thugs, copycats.  Perhaps even henchmen striking out on their own, they had stalked her from the tavern, rather than establishing she was in fact a business owner.  Unprofessional, they’d used violence too quickly – and in her experience, it would not take them long to escalate from slaps and hissed threats to something far more damaging.

And yet… perhaps she could follow the thread.  They were not Eastern; their accents were wrong, even if they had not used the local word for ‘beautiful’.  She wasn’t entirely sure they were Hannish, either though – perhaps from a neighbouring province?    

Either way, this would not be tolerated. She’d been considering calling in some of the loosely associated contacts they’d made, see if any of them wished to donate their talents.  Perhaps it was time.

@gray-morality

[samara-asaika]

I love redrawing anime pics! My beloved parents here are playing in my favorite anime Karin which I drew sometimes in the past (and also the parents of my OC Asaika which is also a shipchild) NOW THE TRUE IS COMING OUT DUM DUM- DUUUUMMM!

[harritudur]

In case you haven't noticed Tudor, I'm perfectly fine—

[rooftopprendezvous]

April, sometimes I'm so sure Emmerdale is just punishing us right now because we figured out their twist almost right away and that Rob and Rebecca didn't sleep together. Emmerdale was gonna go "HA, see he had really changed and they didn't sleep together dum dum dum duuuummm" only we all screamed THEY DIDN'T SLEEP TOGETHER!!!

Well I don’t know how possible it would be for them to do that. They storyline about six months in advance and then film about six weeks in advance. That’s not to say they couldn’t make some changes but for me it seems the opposite. (Anybody who knows more about this than I do please chime in at any moment.) With the exception of the day immediately following the incident they seemed to want it very clear cut that Robert was the father. It’s been the most recent episodes, when they would have had time to make some changes, that seem to be fueling the theories more than ever. The only time I get the impression that maybe they weren’t happy we climb on the theory train so quickly is when Iain talks about Rebecca and the baby. He tries so hard to push the victim narrative and how Robert used her. We should feel sympathetic toward her and it pushes me further and further away from that idea. It only makes me question more. Like thou doth protest too much my man. So there is the definite feeling that he is trying to keep us from thinking too hard on it but at this point it’s just too late.

[theelfabout]

Elf at Newgrange

#newgrange

So this is our first driving holiday with me as the driver…dum dum duuuummm!  So we hire a car from Dublin airport which is relatively inexpensive and easy to arrange.  We drive out to Co. Meath from Dublin which is an easy hour drive and we arrive in Slane which has a fabulous farm food shop, Hugo’s Farm Food Shop…very yum. There is a big castle in Slane which we do not visit, but instead we…

[theelfabout]

Elf at Newgrange

#Newgrange #Ireland

So this is our first driving holiday with me as the driver…dum dum duuuummm!  So we hire a car from Dublin airport which is relatively inexpensive and easy to arrange.  We drive out to Co. Meath from Dublin which is an easy hour drive and we arrive in Slane which has a fabulous farm food shop, Hugo’s Farm Food Shop…very yum. There is a big castle in Slane which we do not visit, but instead we…

[theelfabout]

Elf at Newgrange

So this is our first driving holiday with me as the driver…dum dum duuuummm!  So we hire a car from Dublin airport which is relatively inexpensive and easy to arrange.  We drive out to Co. Meath from Dublin which is an easy hour drive and we arrive in Slane which has a fabulous farm food shop, Hugo’s Farm Food Shop…very yum. There is a big castle in Slane which we do not visit, but instead we…