Untitled Story, as of yet.

I found this thing tucked oddly in My Pictures folder, written a long, long time ago. It is supposed to go somewhere, but for now, it's going nowhere.

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The demons Rafael and Larking were playing cards under the Nifel tree. Rafael was the shorter demon, stout and sturdy and hunched, with a rather intimidating horn. Larking was taller but slimmer with a certain fragility in his thin frame, but makes up with a more intimidating horn, because he was two centuries older.


It was dim as it always had been in Nifelheim, but the moonlight was enough for the demons to see. Shadows lurked past in sniggers and groans. Occasionally a scream would sound, but the demons knew that the Nid hog was only playing with its food. Unperturbed, they shuffled and Larking dealt.


Rafael made a sucking sound. He was agitated.


“Apparently you have little knowledge about game faces,” Larking said. He arranged his deck of 5 and licked a maggot off his thumb.


“Meh, I’m not one to bother with game faces. If it’s a winning card I win, and if it’s a losing card I damn Luck and her lot of pushies. I raise you four.” Rafael flicked four miniscule buttons onto the table.


Larking smiled, and tossed six chocolate wrappers above the buttons. “I raise you by 18.”


Rafael made another sucking sound, which sounded like a very beastly kiss. “I’m short. Maybe we can put this in my tab?”


“Your tab is already overflowing as it is,” Larking sneered. “You still haven’t paid me for the bet at the race.”


“Yeah, yeah… was kinda hoping I could win it square tonight…” said Rafael, scratching his scaly head, his brow furrowed over his cards, thinking.


Larking cocked an eyebrow. He leant towards the stout demon with a wry smile.


“Two pennies for your Thought. How about that?”


“I don’t know,” said Rafael, scratching his head harder. A Thought costs a lot… just a much two pennies do, to be precise, but it was a valuable Thought nonetheless. Still, if he could win and call the debt void…


“Deal. Two Deaths, Two Plagues and a Goat. Demonic Destitution. Show me your cards.”


“Three Angels, one Sword of Flame and one Foe-Striker. Divine Retribution. I win.” Larking chuckled and swept his winnings into a small leather pouch. It was bulging.


“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a deal with Luck to begin with,” grunted Rafael, rubbing his horn as he always did when he loses.


“Not Luck to be precise,” said Larking, with a dribble of cold in his voice. “One of her cronies owe me a favour and I had him rigged tonight’s game.”


“You stinking son of a sow,” said Rafael, and he laughed with grim satisfaction. “Give me a chance to win back the Thought, won’t ya? Tomorrow night?”


“Not in hundred years, my friend,” said Larking. “Desmont just put me on the Venice project, so I won’t be free until then.” He dropped the last button into the pouch and leant towards Rafael again, in the same way and in the same smile.


“Now, the Thought, if you please.”


Rafael grumbled his displeasure and cleared his throat. A wind blew and rustled the Nifel tree, and both demons spread out their wings to embrace the bitter cold of the breeze. The wind billowed and turned towards the sky, and its gust drowned under a sudden, sickening crunch; the Nid hog had just finished its dinner. There was a soft whimper, followed by gasps of fear, to show that the Nid hog was preparing for breakfast.


Rafael had his jaw locked and eyes closed, his chest heaved and relaxed as though trying to gather phlegm to his throat. And then he raised a hand and gave the back of his head a heavy pound, and the Thought splattered onto the table coated in thick, dark rheum.


The mucus sizzled and dissolved the table, but the round glowing ball of dimmed light remained unscathed and untainted, sapphire in its weak incandescence. Larking reached out a hand and brought the light to his nose, where he breathed and sucked the Thought like swirling cigarillo smoke.


“Hmm,” said Larking, a contemplative look on his face. “A rather interesting Thought.”


“It’s good stuff,” grunted Rafael, resentful. “Worth more than two pennies any day.”


“But of course,” Larking said, closing his eyes in savouring. “If not for the agreed cost of a Thought as determined by law.”


Rafael grumbled something about knowing things and ludicrous rules, and started shuffling the cards absent-mindedly.


“I’d say,” said Larking, after a while. “This is quite the Thought. Quite the Idea, more likely, especially from a human. Fascinating.”


“Yeah, good stuff, isn’t it? I nicked it off Montesto after one of his routine visits Midside. He said he bought it from a human for a killing favour. It’s illegal, but for a Thought, everything’s worth it.”


“Pity. I would like to see it evolve into something more… complete,” said Larking. He swallowed the Thought and lodge it between his rib-cages; foreign Thoughts can muddle his judgement if kept in his mind for too long. “We could sell it to another human for a more fetching price.”


“Pfft… what human would actually buy a Thought? Especially an Idea,” Rafael snorted, but found himself wondering as well. He could understand the nascent gravity of the Thought, but to actually sell it to someone… well, it would be preposterous to begin with. It is hard to sell Ideas unless presented in whole beforehand, and in the manner of this, would make the Idea a free gift at any rate.


“We tempt the human. Certain humans, in particular. One who knows a bargain when he sees the reason,” said Larking. He ran a finger down his cheek, drawing a red hot line which spittle and hissed before darkening into his obsidian skin. “We could sell it for a Story. Or a Television… yes, that would be proper. Way proper. The question is how do we sell it.”


“Like I said, there ain’t anyone of the living dumb enough to buy an Idea in the first place,” said Rafael. “Sell them the wrong Idea and they go crazy. Plus, it’s illegal.”


“Perhaps I should rephrase my question a little bit… I believe the question is whom do we sell it to.”


“It’s illegal,” repeated Rafael, afraid that Larking didn’t hear. Larking cocked another eyebrow and sneered. “We thrive in illegality, my friend, if that’s not the way we’ve been working ever since we decided to move Downside.”


“Yeah… yeah you got that right,” said Rafael, defeated as he always had been, under the wings of Larking. He gave the cards a tentative rub, and then swallowed it down his throat. No more games tonight now that he knew Larking had rigged it, and not that he had anything left to gamble with.


“But it’s not like we’re going Midside anytime,” said Rafael, stretching his arms. “Nor Montesto; he’s under probation for smuggling a carton of milk. He’ll probably keep the profits anyway, seeing that I nicked the Thought from him. Still seething when I met him last week, almost degutted me.”


“Desmont hinted that I might need to travel Midside for a bit of supervision. Perhaps I can look for someone then,” said Larking, cracking his knuckles. The moon flickered for a moment, the began to vane a little. Something rumbled past nearby, the shadows riding above and under it. Larking yawned. It was getting early.


“You do that,” said Rafael, stretching his legs and pulling a hand over his head to stress the muscles. “And then we split the profits.”


“I daresay the Thought is mine now,” said Larking, popping his large toe. “You are, of course, free to come over and watch when you like.”


Rafael followed his final act of stretching his back in a cobra positioned (which he remembered was called yoga) with a grunt and more muttering. There was a quickly extinguished yell; the Nid hog had decided breakfast shouldn’t be played, and by the sound of wailing that struck like a repetitive call of sirens, second-breakfast was being served.


“The missus is starting to wonder,” said Rafael, looking at the moon. “I’ll see you in a century then.”


“Right,” said Larking, a painful-sounding crick snapped from his flexing jaw. “Though, I might drop by for Oglith’s birthday.”


“Don’t bother. She’s making more of that tin can stuff she bought from Montesto. I told her it was cat food but she didn’t believe.”


“Right… perhaps I wouldn’t. See you in a century then.”


Larking was already at the clouds when Rafael shouted at him:


“Get a TiVO from while you’re at it!”