Falling Angels: Chapter Three
Nov. 8th, 2009 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanVisiting the Farm was it's usual chaotic insane and grounding experience. I spent most of the trip home chewing over the fact that maybe living alone was leading me to be freaked out more easily than perhaps was entirely healthy.
Not that living at the Farm itself was necessarily the best cure for that. Sure, Wayne was all over me moving in with the family. Wayne and I had originally met through my husband Carl, and we'd always been a bit mad for each other. But I was a bit of a traditional girl and I would never be entirely comfortable with the fact that he was already married. I knew for sure that his wives wouldn't care, but I would. Still, regardless of Wayne maybe I should reconsider living alone, as perhaps it was making me punchier than I needed to be.
Of course because I was preoccupied and not thinking about my surroundings, that was when I had trouble on the trip home.
First I was challenged by a troll on my way over the bridge. I suggested that given that I had already given them a big ol' package of meat they should fuck off and let me pass. The troll wanted more meat. I went on at great length about negotiating in good faith and how there were other troll bridges out there and how would they like not to get any meat at all until the troll finally held his paws over his ears and suggested that we forget about the whole thing. Having won the battle, I generously offered to leave a larger package next time I went by and he gave me a magical talisman in gratitude. I spent the next half an hour on the road wondering if "he" was the proper the way to think of a troll, given that they all looked exactly the same and none of them appeared to have anything resembling genetalia.
My internal debate about the reproductive mechanisms of trolls was interrupted by one of the local gangs attempting to corner me for the food in my cart. I had to stab one of the lycanthrops in the ear with a screwdriver to get it to back off. It wasn't made out of silver so of course it didn't kill it, but it must have hurt because it backed off, rolling it's eyes and yelping. I was pissed off by this point and had myself a good rant about what did they want, and killing the golden goose and not fucking with people who could give you food and stuff like that. There may have been another stabbing in the process, I forget. The end result was that they let me go and I think I we figured out that they could really use some more clean water so I offered to leave a few more carboys under a different tree than was used by the main gang and they were happy with that. They gave me a scarf that in theory I could wear not to be messed with, but in my experience that usually meant getting more messed with by other people so I tucked it under the supplies in my cart.
The third, and final nail in the coffin, was the pixies showing up and starting to prick me. Pixies. Do you know anybody who has ever been hassled by pixies? I don't. But here they were. I gave them an earring and they finally buggered off.
Seriously. Pixies. Jesus.
The end result was that by the time I got home I had forgotten all about introspection and just wanted everybody to leave me the damn hell alone.
Not that living at the Farm itself was necessarily the best cure for that. Sure, Wayne was all over me moving in with the family. Wayne and I had originally met through my husband Carl, and we'd always been a bit mad for each other. But I was a bit of a traditional girl and I would never be entirely comfortable with the fact that he was already married. I knew for sure that his wives wouldn't care, but I would. Still, regardless of Wayne maybe I should reconsider living alone, as perhaps it was making me punchier than I needed to be.
Of course because I was preoccupied and not thinking about my surroundings, that was when I had trouble on the trip home.
First I was challenged by a troll on my way over the bridge. I suggested that given that I had already given them a big ol' package of meat they should fuck off and let me pass. The troll wanted more meat. I went on at great length about negotiating in good faith and how there were other troll bridges out there and how would they like not to get any meat at all until the troll finally held his paws over his ears and suggested that we forget about the whole thing. Having won the battle, I generously offered to leave a larger package next time I went by and he gave me a magical talisman in gratitude. I spent the next half an hour on the road wondering if "he" was the proper the way to think of a troll, given that they all looked exactly the same and none of them appeared to have anything resembling genetalia.
My internal debate about the reproductive mechanisms of trolls was interrupted by one of the local gangs attempting to corner me for the food in my cart. I had to stab one of the lycanthrops in the ear with a screwdriver to get it to back off. It wasn't made out of silver so of course it didn't kill it, but it must have hurt because it backed off, rolling it's eyes and yelping. I was pissed off by this point and had myself a good rant about what did they want, and killing the golden goose and not fucking with people who could give you food and stuff like that. There may have been another stabbing in the process, I forget. The end result was that they let me go and I think I we figured out that they could really use some more clean water so I offered to leave a few more carboys under a different tree than was used by the main gang and they were happy with that. They gave me a scarf that in theory I could wear not to be messed with, but in my experience that usually meant getting more messed with by other people so I tucked it under the supplies in my cart.
The third, and final nail in the coffin, was the pixies showing up and starting to prick me. Pixies. Do you know anybody who has ever been hassled by pixies? I don't. But here they were. I gave them an earring and they finally buggered off.
Seriously. Pixies. Jesus.
The end result was that by the time I got home I had forgotten all about introspection and just wanted everybody to leave me the damn hell alone.