(no subject)

( aaarrrggghhh. )

I intend to use that number. I intend to use it to point out that her message is SPAM and that I would never vote for someone who spammed me, just on principle. I also note that no Democrats have flooded my mailbox with messages at all, let alone ones that cast derogatory aspersions on their opponents. The fact that I'm so far from being a part of her target audience just makes this even more laughable -- or it would, if it weren't so irritating. Hello? I live in North Carolina, and "Louisiana family values"conjures up mental images I'm sure she never intended.

... What kind of moron receives an unsolicited email and then faxes their credit card information to the number given in it? I'm sure you -will- be able to use my credit card information just a few hours after receiving it. That's why I'd never send it.

Feh. On a happier note, my current (allowable) word count is 4,728. I am cheating though, because I decided that I'm not writing a completely new work, I'm finishing Godseed first. I started it for NaNoWriMo last year, so I reckon I'm allowed. The story bits I've pieced into place so far come up to exactly 8,000 words, and I anticipate that the unplaced ones make up about 5,000 more -- I had no idea I'd written so much in fits and starts. I'm going to be somewhat scarce until I finish: I procured a laptop yesterday and am deliberately keeping it free of an Internet connection and any games that might distract me. I am checking in a few times a day, but knowing that the story is open and waiting upstairs seems to be working thus far. :) So maybe I will actually finish this in time to move onto the novel I'd planned on writing this month. That would be nice.

Godseed

En`vil paused for breath, his face red and his temper still boiling. Jula'an raised an eyebrow. "Will that be all, Elder?" The subtle stress on the honorific was not lost on En`vil, and he reddened still further. Before he could launch into another tirade, however, Jula'an spoke again, quietly and clearly. "You have disrupted my class, and caused a scene in front of the children. I can disregard your views on me; in fact, I have a lot of practice in doing just that. But you owe my children an apology, Elder." There were quick intakes of breath from the younglings, and En`vil glanced down, realising for the first time how intently he was being watched. Brats! He was sure the story of how he had lost his composure would be the talk of the village by suppertime. They would make him look a fool, all because he had given the laziest, most useless waste of breath in the village the sharp side of his tongue. At that moment, he could have killed them all -- Jula'an, as the root and cause of the trouble, and every last one of the lying, tattling brats with him. "Great One," he prayed silently, "Judge between this damned schoolteacher and me!"

He screamed when the world around him exploded with light.


Jula'an felt something touch his cheek and brush over his hair, soft as a whisper, and fancied he heard a high-pitched giggle, in that instant when the world turned to light. Just that quickly, however, it was gone, and he stood, shocked, as in his mind a voice spoke softly, "Be at ease, my son", and he felt himself wrapped in Love beyond love. Then, from outside him, the same voice: "It is done." And with that, he was alone again in his mind, and looking into the wide eyes of the children.

En`vil picked himself up, lips tightly compressed, and dusted himself off. His mantle of hair, when he got to it, made him let out a single wrenching sob, but he said nothing. He was shaking so badly that he pulled out several clumps of hair while trying to straighten the tangled snarls, but he warded off Jula'an's attempt to help with a savagely outflung hand, cringing away as though expecting a blow. The schoolteacher, staring, took a few steps of his own in retreat: nothing else around them was disordered, yet the elder looked as though he had endured the strongest storm without shelter. More than that, his hair, the soft pale amethyst of age for as long as Jula'an could remember, was now a dull mud colour. No storm had accomplished that. Jula'an quickly made the most potent warding gesture, faintly aware that all around him, the children were doing the same. The children! With a sense of shame, he gathered his wits enough to look around at them, and even found control enough to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Class is over for today," he told them gently. "We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow." They needed no urging; all except Sulaya scattered immediately, and she lingered only long enough for a hug and a quiet, "It's all right, little one." Then she, too, set out for home at a flat run, braids streaming out behind her.

Jula'an turned again to the elder, then, curiosity warring with concern on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked after a minute or so. "What happened to you?" En`vil only shook his head, his hand to his lips, hatred written plainly in his contorted features, and after another moment, the schoolteacher shrugged and turned away, brushing his hair out of his face with the back of his hand. En`vil's gasp stopped him, and as he swung around, a lock of hair falling across his own shoulder showed him the reason for the gasp. Staring incredulously, he pulled a larger hank of hair around to where he could see it. He had not been mistaken. His hair, formerly the violet of middle adulthood, was now a shining copper colour, shot through with strands of gold.