Oct. 18th, 2015

kittydesade: A white feather quill laying across an open book with yellowed pages (am scribing)
Day 16: Gretel
Ah, Gretel. She even has a last name now! In multiple drafts over twelve? How long have I oh god twelve, I wrote this for Nano 2003. So, in multiple drafts over twelve years, she hasn't had a last name until a couple days ago. Or at least not that I retained. So. Gretel Canbury, guitarist and piercer/tattoo parlor worker by day or at least by afternoon when she's not playing music, is one of the main characters in White Lightning's main and same-titled story.

Gretel is a pretty fierce girl, not just because she was raised with a lot of brothers and a cop father but also because she was raised by a fierce mother who taught her to go after what she wanted. And then got into a huge year-long fight with her when what she wanted turned out to be a life in the city playing music and punching holes in people for a living. That took some dealing and some reconciliation, but eventually she was able to be convinced that just because Gretel was doing something less than respectable, didn't mean she wasn't a successful adult doing well by herself. She was raised in the country among hillbillies, I think in Virginia but I didn't rememer to put it , comfortable around guns and hunting, her brothers pointed guns at her in jest (she was NOT amused, neither was her cop father), her brother became a cop too. She, on the other hand, went off in search of adventures, or at least new people.

In the story itself, without giving too much away, Gretel gets angry and does some foolish things in defense of her friends when they come under attack from Humans First. Not involving violence per se, but definitely peripheral to a lot of it. She tends to get angry a lot; not because anger issues but because of her childhood she has less fear around guns, and she lives and works with a number of people who have been mistreated or are being mistreated by others, thus, angry. She is very protective and also relatively low on impulse control, although not nearly as much as Julien. Gretel, at least, has some sense of not so much right and wrong as appropriate vs overbearing.

Day 17: Pax
Pax! Paaaax. I do love Pax. He's a monitor in Turing Shrugged, which means that he monitors vital functions, program structure, and interacts with the people embedded in the virtual environment. He's a very good monitor, he's able to keep track of several lines of input at once with minimal degradation of his abilities. He's highly intelligent, but he doesn't feel like he has good instincts for working in the virtual environment, and he prefers to keep an eye on his people.

I don't have much on Pax, now that I think about it, or not as much as I do on some other people. He's pretty easygoing, and he's in love with Solace although he's not pushing anything on her. He's working his way around to being resigned that she doesn't love him back, and he enjoys her company nonetheless. I'm reasonably sure he's venting to someone off screen, maybe a roommate? Someone he sees in off hours and he gets precious few of them later, so it'd almost have to be a roommate or a neighbor with a strange shift, about how he sees her hurting and he wishes things were different, and so on. Some way to get that out because he doesn't want to put that on his relationship with Solace. She's not doing anything wrong, and she deserves friends, not assholes. His opinion, not mine.
kittydesade: A series of arches centered, seemingly endless (endless doorways)
Day 18: Dorothy
So, about a million (fifteen or so) years ago I wrote a story about a desert warlord with zombie-raisers working for him and the lady gunslinger who faced him down, and it was conceived out of a NyQuil dream if I remember right. Well, some years later, I don't know how I managed to come up with this one, but some years later I decided they should get kind of married and have a child. Kitten, the lady gunslinger in question although that's not actually her real name, died shortly after when the girl was very young. She didn't use her real name by that point because she was trying to get away from someone, so Victor, the warlord, always called her by the name he'd mockingly picked up for her, since she was tiny and he thought she thought she was fierce. (She actually was, but he didn't find that out until she'd shot a bunch of people.)

(I have very weird dreams what can I say.)

Anyway, so, Dorothy was obviously that girl. And without getting too much, again, into spoilers, she was raised by Victor and a couple of older women he'd employed to look after her while the town sort of continued to die around them. It's easy enough to be a warlord, but all the threats and domineering behavior can't pull water out of the ground if it's not there. The town did stabilize shortly after Kitten's death into a much smaller town, with him still at the head and no one questioning how he'd lived this long, but it was never the same. Dorothy was raised as more of a headman's daughter of a village than the daughter of a warlord of a thriving if semi-lawless town, and Victor settled. The one indulgence he kept was more Kitten's type than his own, a library which he encouraged Dorothy to read and build and learn from.

After a while, though, what Kitten was running from caught up with Dorothy, not quite realizing that she wasn't her mother because of how much she resembled her and the few traits she picked up from her father were at least rough traits he and Kitten had in common (blonde hair for one thing, though different shades and textures) and it proceeded to demolish everything around her in the hopes she would be convinced to come back to a place she didn't know, for reasons she had never learned and didn't understand.

This, of course, ends badly. Particularly when she learns why her father was so long-lived and what kind of a legacy her mother left her, and finds people like her who explain to her at least some of what she's going through, the general part of it, and how to deal with it.
kittydesade: (sweet pea)
Things I am glad I got before this latest bout of financial insecurity (though some of this is before from the last one):

-- Frye boots (2 pair, one pull-ons and one lace-ups)
-- Ginormous bottle of the really good skin lotion (which is slowly running out, urk)
-- Ginormous bottle of the really good face soap (courtesy of the braintwin, need to refill the dispenser at some point)
-- Cloth pads (so much more goddamn comfortable even if the week itself is not)
-- Shittons of the really tiny point ballpoint pens in multiple colors (mostly expensive because they come from Japan, and very good for writing tiny equations in multiple colors so I can keep each factor separate)
-- All the language books for Hindi, Arabic, etc I'll need for a while (seriously, these things are like 40-60$ a pop ouch.)

To a lesser/more personal/more indulgent extent: Nenya with stone from Badali Jewelry, hair gloss from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and a wand because of reasons.

I still don't know what's going to happen. We should find out Monday. His friends in similar lines of work (other CNAs, I think one of them's an actual nurse right now, I know he's in classes) are telling him of places they know are hiring and they're lining up to give him references, so even if he has to he shouldn't be too long without a job. He'll take a pay cut in most cases, but that's not too bad? We'll have to watch our budgets a lot more, but it won't be so bad. We've already kind of been doing that. Or I have anyway, I think he's been indulging in the kickstarters, silly lad.

And I should get back to edits and writing, but I haven't much been able to do anything this weekend but curl up on the couch, push through the blog, and click the clicky pets. I kind of hate myself a little for it. I keep thinking of all the work I could have gotten done. I did get some language review done? Some videos watched even if I have no idea how much information I retained from it. Also a lot of napping, and the OC October post done for today. But apparently I don't get days off, according to the weasels in my head. I don't know. Intellectually, I know there are all kinds of reasons for me to take a day and a half to do nothing physically or mentally strenuous. Emotionally, I can feel all my muscles atrophying, brain and limbs.

Tomorrow I get to start again. Be busy, keep moving. Hopefully. Keep moving, that's all. I need to find energy somewhere. Not entirely sure where. Maybe with a good night's sleep.

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