(no subject)

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

Strange things are afoot of late.

Comments

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

True enough. The world's full of all manner of strange things. But as of late it seems there's a bit more at hand than usual.

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

Pray tell. [She's very interested, one hand automatically drifting to the gun at her hip.]

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

[Will laughs quietly at the gesture, shaking his head.] Not that manner of strange things, my friend. It's only that I have recently met a number of people who ought to be dead, but are not -- an old friend of mine among them. And further, there are . . . well. Call them rumblings, I suppose. But nothing terribly sinister, I think.

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

[She nods.] Yeah, there's a lot of dead people around. [She looks pointedly at him, grinning all the same.] Apparently it's something to do with universes colliding. Don't ask me to explain, I don't quite understand.

Rumblings? What do you mean by that?

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

Like the heaviness in the air when there's a thunderstorm. I much suspect there is trouble afoot in the heavens -- in the real one, I mean, among the powers greater than I myself. I've some sense of these things, though I stay out of them for the most part.

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

Oh, right. [She nods.] You mean with the whole...demigod thing.

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

[A laugh.] That is precisely what I mean, yes.

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

Well, what can you do? [She shrugs.] Not much, as far as I can tell.

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

Exactly. I've my own small realm of influence, which I do my best to meddle in as little as possible for the good of all concerned. When larger powers clash, I keep my head down. Would that everyone had my common sense, hm?

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

Not everyone is as intelligent as you.

[teasingly] Oh, and by the way, you're looking great for your age.

[mere-playwright.livejournal.com]

[He laughs.] A claim not all men of four hundred and forty-two can make, I assure you. But thank you very much, my dear . . . I suppose it's my dear Doctor now, isn't it? How deliciously ironic.

[doctorspet.livejournal.com]

[She grins.] Oooh, deliciously ironic. Not something I've heard to describe it yet.