Now, I can hold a note for a long time...actually I can hold a note forever. But eventually that's just noise. It's the change we're listening for. The note coming after, and the one after that. That's what makes it music.

Host ,'Why We Fight'


Sang Sacré

The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.

History. Map.


Susan W. - Mar 04, 2003 1:10:00 pm PST #613 of 1100
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights

I pack a basket and head down to the park. There's a frazzled-looking group starting to assemble in the dandelion patch.

I open the basket. "Fried chicken? Potato salad? Chill pills?"


Knut the Do-Gooder - Mar 04, 2003 1:23:59 pm PST #614 of 1100
Nobody

"Remember that afternoon we were all up the river by the old fortress, and you and Hec and I were all sitting in the meadow, listening to tunes. Those were good times. God, I need a beer."

I pull two bottles of Dogtown Porter from my Bottomless Beer Caddy. Never empty, always cold. I pop the top and offer it to DX.

"I remember. Emmylou and Tom. Willow and the Penguin. Er, I don't mean any of that in a slashy way."

Susan arrives with a pic-a-nick basket. "Fried chicken? Potato salad? Chill pills?" I politely decline the fried chicken and toss my applecore towards the edge of the meadow.

"Got any peace, love and harmony in there?"


Connie Neil - Mar 04, 2003 1:30:31 pm PST #615 of 1100
brillig

Bob wanders from room to room, obviously looking for something.

"Now what?" I'm working on a messy plot outline and I don't need another distraction. At least he finally put clothes on.

"Can't you hear that?"

"Normal human hearing here, creature of the night. What?"

"Lots of people. Arguing with each other."

"Nope, sorry. Somebody's TV is probably up loud. You know, the city's quiet again, Aeshma's gone. Why don't you hit the tunnels, go find some trouble to get in?"

He gives me a distracted pout. "Are you throwing me out?"

"No, just pointing out that you haven't been anywhere except with me for days now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

I honestly don't know why I'm saying this, in the face of that grin. "I'm saying it because my poor human joints and muscles need a break. Sure, I'm willing to die with a smile on my face, but can't we put that off till next week or something? I've got a deadline."

"Fine," he sniffs. "I can tell when I'm not loved."

He huffed out, as if I couldn't see the grin on his face. Sheesh.


DXMachina - Mar 04, 2003 1:46:27 pm PST #616 of 1100
You always do this. We get tipsy, and you take advantage of my love of the scientific method.

"Ooh, chicken. Thanks you so much, Susan," I say as I accept the offered chicken breast. Cold chicken and beer really hit the spot. Of course, beer is always good. Well, except for that yogi beer the orcs like, because it's tarter than the average beer.

Someone has their boombox going.

What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding...


Susan W. - Mar 04, 2003 2:08:44 pm PST #617 of 1100
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights

"Got any peace, love and harmony in there?"

"I've got some peace sign buttons," I reply. "And I was reading about a mellowing spell, but I'm not sure it's magical magic, you know? Something about lying flat on one's back, watching the clouds go by and slowly chanting 'I must chill'."

I eye the beer caddy. "Don't suppose you have anything in the way of hard cider in there?"


Knut the Do-Gooder - Mar 04, 2003 2:12:31 pm PST #618 of 1100
Nobody

I hand Susan a bottle of Woodchuck Cider and lay down among the dandelions.

Someone's playing Elvis Costello nearby. I can feel my blood pressure dropping already.


Penny B. - Mar 04, 2003 3:37:33 pm PST #619 of 1100
Nobody

I don't think I drank all that much, really. Maybe I have a cold coming on. Maybe a storm is coming. That can cause a headache, can't it?

My house is a shambles. One I leave to the Instagolem. I can't seem to deal with compound sentences. Or is it complex? I don't care.

I wander outside until I hit a park. Dandelions? In March? Whatever. I flop on the grass.


DavidS - Mar 04, 2003 10:30:46 pm PST #620 of 1100
"Look, son, if it's good enough for Shirley Bassey, it's good enough for you."

I stumble into the dandelion patch, belated but elated to find my kindred.

I flop down next to Penny and start rubbing her feet and ankles. "Good party," I murmur.

DXM hands me a beer. Knuts hands me a plate of potato salad. I nod at Susan. Beer good. Brain hurt.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Mar 05, 2003 8:34:04 am PST #621 of 1100
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

Dandelions. It would be dandier if I could find Edward. I don't know what I drank last night-- or even if it was something one doesn't drink, as such-- but I seem to have lost Edward. And Jilli. And Clovis. And I've no idea where Dagfari is, either.

I flop down on the grass at the edge of the group, and start digging in pockets for painkillers.

Witches' hat... napkin... fangs... stake... paper aeroplane... red nose... chocolate. That'll do.

"Anyone else for a chunk of Fagin's Extra Dark?"


Penny B. - Mar 05, 2003 12:24:28 pm PST #622 of 1100
Nobody

David's masterful foot rub has put me into a state of near coma. I may have an out-of-body experience any moment. Above my head, I'm vaguely aware of people passing bottles and other items to each other. There's a gentle breeze, the sound of distant water. I feel myself letting go.