Mardi Gras, Day 1

[scots_wolf]

There is a tall, leggy blonde leaning at the bar, sipping coffee and watching people.

She is wearing jeans and sneakers, and a low-cut, bust-hugging blue shirt.

She's only existed in this form since the morning, and she's very curious about life from a woman's perspective.

She might have a switch-blade knife in her pocket, but no way is she concealing a crossbow anywhere.

Approach to entertain her?

Comments

[mogget_cat]

"What would constitute a figment of madness being fake figments of one's mind?"

[scots_wolf]

She thinks for a moment. "Figments of another's madness, maybe, made manifest through the magic of this place and its door," she finally says, picking words as deliberately as any true Scholastic* -- which she is.

"If whatever can be thought exists, somewhere out there, and among those thinking there are madmen, or people of dangerously unbalanced imagination, then figments of their madness, manifesting through the door, will seem like fake figments of one's own madness."

Pause.

"I think the madness may be measured on a test of common agreement. If I walk into a room of my peers and declared, 'I just saw a dragon by the lake, blowing glass' or 'I spoke to a secret animal whose reproduction is a mystery to itself and that secretly fights pollution of the environment' or even 'I stalked and took down a very evil-smelling student in the woods who then got up again and threw me in the lake' -- would they judge me mad? But if I really saw those things, then they would be fake figments of madness."

Beat.

"I think examples one and two were real, and three must have been me having a nightmare."

Not that Yrael seems likely to disapprove of stalking and killing noisome things, rules or no rules. But admitting to having been thrown in the lake? Rather not.


* The mun, when first confronted with Scholastic texts, found they read like a programming language. The scholars of Urquhart's time, you may say, weren't writing down thought as much as coding ideas.

[mogget_cat]

"If you really saw those things," says Yrael, not commenting on the reference to stalking and apparently failing to kill a patron, "then they would not be figments of one's madness, true or fake. They would just falsely assumed to be figments."

"Though, one would hope one only dreamt of being thrown in the lake. That is never fun, even on the sunniest of summer days."

Bleh. Water.

[scots_wolf]

"No, really not," Urquhart says. "It was horrible. In my dream."

Beat.

"You might be right there. You should be a philosopher."

[mogget_cat]

"I would make a horrible philosopher," she grins. "I would be tempted to just say contrary things to see how red I could make other philosophers' faces."

[scots_wolf]

"But don't you know?" she grins. "That's what they all do. All the time!"