synopsychic | Of Councils and Conspiracies

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Of Councils and Conspiracies

We managed to make it in and out of the Council offices in one piece.

[That's the sort of statement that should sound celebratory. It doesn't. Even with the flattened affect provided by the psychic network's rendering of tone, there's an undercurrent of carefully restrained anger.]

The plague's gone. The plague's been gone for almost two hundred years. The Council's been keeping quarantine all this time in order to keep from having to admit they've been drugging people blind for no good reason for centuries. Their biggest concern right now is the fact that more and more kids are being born resistant to their drugs.

That's where the Duskling population boom is coming from. And the kids born on the wrong side of twilight - apparently, immunity to one side doesn't guarantee immunity to the other, and they aren't all that careful about making sure their shipments don't get mixed up, since an adult probably isn't going to notice any change after a few doses of the wrong thing.

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Necessary then, but now? To continue such a farse and tear families apart? It is an evil thing.

[He trails off for a moment. Probably getting some steadying breaths in.]

I can keep a lookout for both easily enough. I will speak to my father Zaknafein and to Elphaba to see if they will also wish to help. Father likely will—he and I share opinions on being taken from each other.

Oh, I couldn't agree more.

[There's a pause. A long, long pause.]

...I'm glad you could find each other again, even if it took all of this.

[And that brings him a measure of calm, although he's still quite angry. Love washing over him will do that, and sorry if you get a bit of that mixed in with the anger, Toby.]

As am I. I truly never expected to see him again in this life, and yet we are together once more. If we can save others from a similar heartache, then our reunion will only have a greater purpose.

You might be able to go a step further, and help some other people reunite with their loved ones. The Council keeps records. Meticulous records. Once this cover's blown wide open, those can be put to good use.

Not everyone will want to take that chance, but the ones who do should have the opportunity.

Enough will want to be reunited with their families to make it more than worthwhile.

Meticulous records are good. It will be even better if the unrest does not cause them to be damaged. If the building that they keep the records is sieged, then it is possible that some or all of the records may be lost.

Unless the Council holds their big meeting somewhere other than their great hall, there won't be any need for a siege - the people most likely to stage one will already be inside the walls.

[Drizzt will consider that for a moment; he's in agreement with that. Still...]

But what about after? Would the revolt be limited to just inside that place, or could it go further?

If there's a coup, it won't stay contained. Not without someone to step into the power vacuum, and from what I've been hearing, the most likely prospects aren't the kind of people you want in power.

So unless we are extremely lucky, then there is a good chance that this may end in disaster. And there is little choice in the matter, because we cannot allow this to stand regardless of the consequences.

When you put it that way, it sounds like Tuesday.

[Except the consequences are usually to her own well-being and ever dwindling humanity, not to thousands of strangers she's never met, whose lives might be ripped apart by the choices they make in the very near future.

That's daunting, despite the flippancy.]

According to the backstory I gave during my interrogation, that is exactly where I am from. I do not know what that has to do with anything...?

[Drizzt's calendar calls the days differently. And the months. And even noon and midnight.]

It's an expression.

[There's a hesitation, but a brief one. Colloquialism-to-pureblood translation might not be her area of expertise, but she has had some practice.]

In worlds that aren't clockwork nightmares run by drug kingpins, Tuesday's a day of the week. So "it sounds like Tuesday" pretty much means "it's business as usual".

Edited 2016-10-20 00:44 (UTC)

I see! That makes a great deal more sense.

As far as I have figured, a week is like what we call a tenday, except seven instead of... ten days. I was not aware of any of their names.

[Yeah, that one is pretty self-explanatory.]

There's a rhyme to remember them by. Easier than just listing them and hoping they'll stick.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child works hard for a living,
Saturday's child is loving and giving,
But the child who is born on the seventh day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

[Drizzt recites the rhyme to himself under his breath, which obviously cannot be heard across the network.]

Thank you. I will try to remember them. ... Does the seventh day have a name?

Sunday.

It might be worth it to find out if the towns around the city represent the whole week. Or if they mug a few other calendars for their day names, for that matter.

Sunday.

[A chuckle after a moment.]

I suppose you wouldn't know the months as well...?

I know a few of them pretty well.

[It's a little dry. These elves aren't the only ones that like time-themed names.]

January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December.

[A bit of a laugh at the joke once he hears the names.]

So I see. Or hear, in this case. Thank you; I will try to remember those.

If you don't and you need to, just ask. Enough of us seem to be from Earth that someone can probably jog your memory.

I shall.

It is that popular of a world for Travelers to come from?

It seems to be. Don't ask me why - I haven't been here any longer than you have. I just get some of the references.

How peculiar. ... My world has only two from it; Guenhwyvar is from a different plane, but used to be brought to mine through a small stone statue. She is now always here instead.

So's the fact that out of everyone in your world, they picked you and your father.

Or so many people who know each other in general.

[A nod in the physical world, although she cannot see it.]

So it seems. The fact that my father is here would be an amazing miracle if not for the situation at hand.

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memoryandtheft - 2016-11-04 00:40 (UTC) - Expand

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naturaltwohands - 2016-11-04 00:42 (UTC) - Expand

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