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 Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 2:19 am
A NEST OF VIPERS
FEATURING MISS FELICITY WICKES AND MISTUR BASIL DARLING
EARLY EVENING; OUTSKIRTS OF GADU
- - -
"before the meeting could begin, however, basil excused himself momentarily. stealing away to the bathroom, he opened the satchel at his side to reveal a small tin of lubricant. these sorts of affairs always made basil so nervous, and the only thing he could find to calm those jitters was some good ol' fashioned a**l masturbation"
"usually he just did one finger, but here lately he'd been going for two. today, though, a new idea worked itself into his brain. he reached into his coat pocket and delicately produced that cold, frozen thing, that bizarre icicle, and chuckled."
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 2:22 am
Curiosity, he reasoned, was why he was here.
Yes, that made absolute perfect sense! After all, nobody in his or her right mind would travel deep into the wooded area on the outskirts of Gadu as the light faded from the sky. Nobody in his or her right mind would follow a faded and crumpled map—attached to the peculiar letter he had discovered yesterday morning on his doorstep. And, of course, nobody in his or her right mind would do this for the sake of curiosity.
Of course, Mr. Darling was not considered by most to be sane.
But now, dear reader, do not think too ill of poor Mr. Darling—for he was a man blessed with a tragic life. We cannot blame such a poor, pitiful, and lonely creature for wandering out into the woods in search of possible…companionship?
Was that the word?
Perhaps a word too strong for the situation at hand.
Whatever the case may be, it was this thought—this little twinkle of hope, that provided the hermit known as Mr. Darling with the will to leave his precious (though now ruined and ransacked) home.
The journey was not long, a mere hour or two walk (perhaps a mere twenty minutes had he been able to afford a carriage or horse). Though it had startled Mr. Darling to witness how quickly the blue sky faded to orange and pink, and how the warm and tolerable weather from this afternoon was blown away with a cold and choppy breeze. The road he traveled along began to gradually disappear, finding himself wandering alongside a field growing god-knows-what. In the distance a crow called, urging Mr. Darling to pick up his pace before night fell.
It was at this point that Mr. Darling came to think that the walk home would be far more frightening.
---
A building as lonely and pitiful as Mr. Darling now stood before him. The paint, once a bright red, was now a dull brown. The paint was peeling, revealing the rotten wood beneath. And each time the night breeze rolled by, the building would creak, moan, and Mr. Darling even swore he saw it shake. A farmhouse? No, a barn, Mr. Darling realized.
Or should he say a heap of firewood.
This hardly seemed a proper place for what the letter had described as a supposed sermon.
Perhaps it was a cruel joke and someone, somewhere, was laughing at the poor Mr. Darling who had walked oh so very far—only to find a sad excuse for a building to be the only thing eagerly awaiting his arrival.
He should have known!
Oh how foolish can one man be!?
Nobody in this forsaken world could understand him and his accomplishments!
And so it was with the scrunch of his nose, a wave of his hand, and the polite exchange of goodbyes that Mr. Darling promptly turned on his heel and headed back to his (lovely?) abode.
And yet…
Mr. Darling could not deny that he still had an itch of curiosity. Perhaps this was a joke, but what if by the small chance it wasn’t? Would it be worth it to let such an opportunity slip through his fingers?
Mr. Darling could not resist the urge to turn his head and look back, adjusting his glasses as if his eyesight was truly failing him. It could not hurt, Mr. Darling thought as he took a single step back in the direction of the barn.
A simple knock, that was all he would do.
And if nobody answered he would leave, quite simple really.
Yes, this made perfect sense, he reasoned as he brought his hand up.
Just to make sure…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 5:32 am
Felicity was surprised to discover that The House had work for her. Since moving to Auvinus she had been left alone for the most part. She attended services dutifully and occasionally mingled with her fellow believers, from time to time she had been invited to other marginally important people's residences for tea and had made polite conversation about the state of Panymium whilst grasping her rapidly cooling tea-cup and stumbling over her words. Claudia had occasionally sneered that the only reason they were keeping her was because of her prophetic dreams... And with those apparently being in short supply since moving to the hub of Obscuvian activity the northerner woman had begun to fret that she would be whisked back to her terrible old life. Consequently, when she was informed that she was to give a sermon she had accepted the role, glad to be of use to her Lord Obscuvos... And yet, the prospect of speaking in front of people filled her with nervous horror.
What made it worse was that it was not simply a sermon in front of the congregation she had come to know in the headquarters. No, she was to be whisked off to Gadu - a place where she had never even been before, with faces she didn't recognise, scrutinising every word that she uttered... Or... More likely, every word that she stuttered.
Since settling in with fellow followers of Obscuvos her nerves had soothed somewhat and her stutter had relaxed... But the very thought of her task made her throat tighten and reduced her speech to a repeated rattle of almost unconnected syllables. It made her want to cry, even Claudia had abandoned her - refusing to go with her, certain that Felicity would make a fool of herself in front of this alien congregation.
Thus Felicity felt entirely alone as she stood in the dilapidated building in the woods. It reminded her of the place where she had experienced her initiation into The House, where the innocent people she had collected had been taken and Claudia had been birthed into Obscuvos' care through the spilt blood of a child. Needless to say - it was not a pleasant atmosphere. This place had evidently once been used for farm work of some description; it had a high vaulted ceiling, although in places the darkening sky could be spotted through the rotting timber and thatch insulation, stalls for animals still lined the sides of the barn and the musty aroma of their sweat and manure lingered no matter how much incense the bird masked attendants burned.
So far the attendance was low. A handful of people milled around, some perching hesitantly on the makeshift pews that had been constructed. Some had bird-masks, proving themselves to be enrolled members of The House, but about an equal number went without a mask... These were the people Felicity was charged with bringing into The House. She must save their souls from damnation and win them to her cause, taking them under the protecting wing of Obscuvos. Such a responsibility! Her heart fluttered and she felt a little faint... Taking a deep breath Felicity steadied herself by leaning against the crude alter at the back of the barn.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Another person was at the door... None of the predecessors had knocked, instead they had come right in. Looking around nervously Felicity hoped someone else would answer the door. A little while passed and nobody had moved. The two attendants who were helping her run the service were busy tending to incense and dressing the alter with depictions of Obscuvos in all his crow-headed glory. Blinking back tears she made her way through the barn and heaved at the heavy wooden door. The hinges squealed menacingly. With all her heart she wished to return to the comfort of her warm Auvinian abode.
"H-h-hello... C-c-com-me i-i-in-n-n."
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Posted: Fri Sep 23, 2011 6:10 pm
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then three.
Really, he should have known that this was some terrible joke.
Well, Mr. Darling thought, at least there were no regrets. He had investigated and quenched his curiosity, and that was all that needed to be done. He did not need companionship, Mr. Darling realized; he only needed his books and his garden to keep him company—
Creaaaak.
He paused.
The door hinges protested and creaked—a sound, he sadly noted, was lovelier than that of an angel’s voice. And slowly and gracefully, the rotted and ugly barn opened its great mouth to reveal the dark passage into its belly. Butterflies invaded Mr. Darling’s belly, and suddenly he found himself struggling to decide if he should move forward.
Ah, but something else appeared.
He squinted and adjusted his spectacles, wrinkling his eyebrows in an attempt to decipher what exactly he saw.
"H-h-hello... C-c-com-me i-i-in-n-n," a meek and delicate voice beckoned.
Mr. Darling hesitated, cautious of the darkness and the voice that came from within, but after a moment or two he reminded himself as to why he was here, and goodness he would go through with it.
The ground crunched beneath his feet as he took one heavy step after another, and slowly but surely the darkness began to swallow him whole.
---
The first thing that Mr. Darling noted was the faint—yet awful smell of manure that lingered inside. The second thing he noted, was that despite the terrible and dim lighting, he could see the frightening and abstract masks that some had adorned. And finally, the last thing Mr. Darling noted was that there was a presence beside him, prompting him to jump and let out a strange and rather unmanly noise.
"Oh uh—" He muttered as he hastily preened his vest despite the lack of lighting. "Apologies," he whispered with a bow, "I was not expecting to find anything out here and…" Awful, he was already making a terrible impression. Quickly he straightened up and adjusted his small spectacles, though his eyes remained glued to the floor. "I mean—" His eyes trailed upward, and finally he could barely make out the face of whom he was even speaking to.
He could hardly make out the details of her face (what with poor eyesight and terrible lighting you know), but he was quite sure he was speaking to a woman and a lovely one at that.
Damn, women were always impossible to speak with.
With a forced and awkward grin he took in a deep breath, "Allow me to start over Miss. I am Basil Darling. Am I correct in assuming this is the sermon to be led by an uh—" he struggled to recall, "W-Welicity Fickes?"
Oh now that did not sound correct at all.
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 2:54 am
Felicity blushed bright red as the man at the door said how he had thought that he would not have found anything here. If she had been in his position she would have turned tail and ran after the first five minutes of stumbling through the dark woods, with the crows cawing ominously in the trees. He was much braver than she had been before Obscuvos had helped her and she wanted to say this to him, but her words caught in her throat. His statement of disbelief was not only something from which she drew a vague sense of admiration towards the new member of her audience, but also raised the point that her lowly amount of congregation members was not any fault of her own. Just like this kind fellow, many would be dubious about the invites they had received; some of them simply wouldn't consider coming and others might not make it all the way. With this thought in her head she was able to force a smile onto her thin lips and had confidence enough to open the door a tad more, casting more light from inside onto the man's face.
"I... I am-m glad you c-came Mr. D-Darling." He was a fairly handsome man, with nice facial proportions... Clean shaven and he seemed awfully polite, if a little shy and flustered. However, this hint of a lack of confidence was actually something Felicity found pleasant about the man. Around confident, striking people it highlighted and heightened her own nervous tendencies; her stutter always worsened when she was talking with such people, yet luckily this Basil man had no such effect.
"F-felicity Wickes." She corrected him kindly. "P-please c-come in Bas-s-sil." She stepped out of his way and curtseyed clumsily whilst still holding the heavy door with one hand. "M-my sermon should-d start soon..." Her voice wavered and she glanced nervously back up the interior of the church - it appeared that the stage was fully set. The attendants were no longer making preparations and were standing expectantly on either side of the alter. Although it was impossible to tell what emotion they were feeling behind their hook beaked masks Felicity couldn't help but feel her stomach knot up with nerves; they seemed impatient. They wanted her to start.
Not quite knowing why, she confessed to this Basil fellow; "I.. I a-am quite n-n-nerv-vous. This is m-my first t-t-time speaking in front of s-such a group."
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Posted: Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:18 pm
"F-felicity Wickes," The young lady corrected.
You mean…it wasn’t Welicity Fickes?
Oh, how dreadfully embarrassing! Mr. Darling you imbecile! To make such a childish mistake, and to insult the poor women with your lack of social crass. This error was far too easy to avoid had he simply studied her name a bit more closely in the letter, or even better yet kept his mouth completely shut. Oh how poor Mr. Darling begged for the rotting support beams to fall on him at that very moment and kill him. The young woman was saying something else by this point, but Mr. Darling could not hear. He could hear only the muffled, yet persistent, beating of his heart in his ears.
If one were to perhaps see Mr. Darling at this very moment under other—less dark—conditions, they would have perhaps assumed he were a statue carved from a marble block.
Luckily, for Mr. Darling, he was in a poorly lit and smelly barn, and the woman was blind to his distorted face of horror.
"I.. I a-am quite n-n-nerv-vous. This is m-my first t-t-time speaking in front of s-such a group,” The young lady (rather abruptly) confessed.
And suddenly, Mr. Darling (who was by no means unintelligent) just put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“I..Wait—Excuse me? You’re Miss Fi—No, wait! Wickes! Miss Wickes!”
Oh dear, that came out louder than expected.
A hand shot up towards his face, and quickly he covered his mouth as if he were about to cough. His fingernails dug so deeply into his cheek that Mr. Darling could feel the familiar sensation of blood soak into his fingernails. Oh goodness, please someone kill him now! Someone rescue him from the terrible heat that spread across his cheeks like a wildfire consuming the land! Oh how he wished to not be here at this moment!
”Ahporeez …(Apologies)” He muffled through his palm as he turned his head. “I…may…ah…fouresh…err…(I made a foolish error)” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, wondering if perhaps he should use this chance to bolt to his seat and pretend she forgot this incident forever. Of course, despite the rather distracting sound of his erratic heartbeat and the thoughts of dying, Mr. Darling was able to understand that that this woman—No, Miss Wickes, was requesting “advice”. Aside from his very own mother, Mr. Darling hardly was ever given advice, and surely he never gave advice to anyone. He had assumed that it was a mythical thing, found only in the books of his shop that the lesser intelligent used to delude the harshness of reality. But would this young lady even want his advice now? Surely she would not, not after he had insulted her in such a manner! Oh, how dreadfully confusing social situations could be! Humans were dreadfully confusing with their mannerisms and complex social etiquette.
Oh dear, what to do?
Slowly his hand fell limp, no longer barricading his lips and words from the outer world.
“Ahem,” A quiet and polite clearing of his throats.
And a moment of silence to gather his wits.
“Miss Fi—“ he bit his tongue. “Miss Wickes,” He corrected himself. “I must apologize again, but I have little experience with dealing with uh…” He paused to remember the blasted term people used. “…stage fear?”
Yes that seemed right.
“However, I did once read a book in my shop that offered the idea…” Except Mr. Darling completely forgot what that idea even was. “To calm your nerves, maybe you should imagine the other people as corpses?”
It made absolute perfect sense to him.
“Though, Miss…Wickes…” He continued with an awkward smile that showed far too much of his gumline. “I do look forward to hearing the sermon, and have the utmost faith that you will be adequate.” He meant every word with the utmost honesty. He was dreadfully curious to hear what this woman, Miss Wickes, would have to say, and only expected that she had speaking abilities if chosen to lead a sermon.
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