(no subject)

[notjustawriter]

So you're tryin' this out again, huh?

I can't say I blame ya, right? But you sure about this, y'know? The whole timeline thing. I mean, I know it won't be that long and all, and Gracie can hold off without hearing from me for a couple weeks.

The whole animal souls thing, though. That's real? It's pretty odd. Hard to believe.

Comments

[eightdead]

Are you going to carry on about it not being real if you're sitting in bed with one? Because those people are the worst.

[notjustawriter]

Hallucinations after extreme trauma are common, I think.

...at least Gracie's told me it's happened before.

[eightdead]

So, yes, then. Great.

Who's Gracie?

[notjustawriter]

My research partner. She helps me around my shop, and with my novels.

[eightdead]

She must be patient.

[notjustawriter]

She's my rock.

[eightdead]

[Ugh.]

You know, that idiom's never really struck me as complimentary.

[notjustawriter]

[He just shrugs at that.]

Never thought it was particularly rude, myself.

[eightdead]

There's gotta be a more complimentary way than comparing someone to a rock.

[notjustawriter]

It's metaphorical, you know?

Means stability and all that.

[eightdead]

And the only thing that came to that person's mind was a rock?

[notjustawriter]

[Blank stare.]

[eightdead]

Yeah, I know, it's a stupid train of thought.

[As stupid as that moron must have been.]

[notjustawriter]

Riight.

So what animal is your soul?

[eightdead]

He's a praying mantis.

[notjustawriter]

Cool.

Mine's supposed to be a squirrel, apparently. Haven't met her yet, though.

[eightdead]

So would your soul hoard nuts, then?

[notjustawriter]

[That makes him laugh.]

Can't say I do it myself.

[But he does hoard cuckoo clocks, cement bricks, fur, cassette tapes, and plenty of other bizarre things in endlessly deep pockets.]

[eightdead]

Hopefully she won't feel like embarrassing you, then.

[notjustawriter]

I don't think she will!