Two, actually.

In the first, there is a lady and her retinue.  Very epic-fantasy;  shocking, I know.  The retinue is all indentured in some way.  There is someone trying very hard to kill her by covert means, and she will not tell them why.  There is one man tasked to keeping her alive, instead of simply keeping her comfortable while alive, and he is tearing his hair out trying to find the reason that she is a target, and who is making her into a target.  He loves her, although it takes him too long to figure out that he loves her instead of just being true to his duty to her (of course).  It’s a very formula tale, but the way the characters interact made it… interesting.

“I hate poisoners. At least a real villain will face you, or have to look at you to aim when he strikes you down.  Poisoners, though, they don’t care who they catch in the cross-fire, and won’t look at a man to aim at him.  They just toss their filth in the line of a life, or a dozen lives, and scurry back to their holes to see if it worked.”

“I tell you this – I will find him, and I will answer him for his actions.  And no matter who it is, or how high or well-defended, I will see his blood on my blade as that answer.  Isn’t that right, dear doctor?”  (This, when he suspects the much-drunk doctor of being more than he seems.)

The second – there is less plot, more a single character.  He thinks he is old, because he has lost the bloom of youth that he had when he last did things that people remember.  And so he has convinced himself that he is old, and broken, and useless.  And somewhere, somehow, he must have a dream – he must dream a dream of youth and life and energy and will, and remember that he did amazing things not because he was young, but because he was driven.  He must be reminded, somehow, that there is nothing about him that prevents his mind from working, nothing that prevents him from being as dangerous as ever.  (The visuals from the dream are vivid but very out-of-context for me.  He alters something that looks like a cross between a soldering iron, a swiss army knife, and a sonic screwdriver (but is apparently a very simple tool to him) to make it suck out the mercury-like driving force of… Something that looks like an overhead projector?  And that same type of overhead projector is used as a mechanism of playing his greatest feats back to him, and semi-conscious, he ends up holding onto a sink sprayer (?!?) coming out of it to try and recuperate before the next attack of… whatever he and his companions are being assaulted by.  In retrospect, it sounds like a very strange and disjointed Dr. Who episode.)

In any case – life is returning to a swing that is predictable (somewhat) and I am dreaming and writing somewhat regularly again.  Still have to get the notes down from the weekend; bad Motley! Stop procrastinating!

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