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Treading the Rhetorical Minefield
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cider
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I'm just your average New Yorker. A guy who thinks he can do more than he ought.
Most Recent Posts
sorry for being so absent. I've been looking for a job, so time to post doesn't come easily. Anyway, I'd like to have something up tomorrow. And may I reinforce my earlier comment, we need more players; or at the very least, we need to garner more interest.
I'm going to see about getting a hold of Bain. The site's been really slow as of late.
Everything at Ardgroom, suddenly and with a uniquely human curiosity, awoke with discord as Gabriel locked his pistol’s safety. He slid the holy weapon of judgment into its holster at his right hip, its twin was set at his left thigh. The wingless angel stood calmly as Atticus seemed to glide across the ill-fated field of stones. Once standing and ancient, now destroyed and in pieces on the floor. In a way, the stones were still there, they’d just have to change the name to ”The Pile of Stones of Ardgroom”.
Atticus held his lover, Veti held hers. The fire-demon, which had been so instrumental in the destruction of the wolf-god, seemed to wither and die as well, leaving the red-head sorceress from earlier behind it. Everything was broken, people were surely missing, and the site, which held such victory in it, was seeped in sadness as well. At no other time did Gabriel feel the sting of the outsider more clearly than now, as he stood among the bent and broken, the battered and burned. How ironic, since Gabriel, in relation, was perhaps the most scorned and beaten out of all of the one’s who laid here. Those thoughts, which were so indulgent and pitiful, were sacrilege to the occasion, and so Gabriel cast them out as such.
Gabriel could not reach out to anyone in the quadrilateral of despair. The atmosphere was thick with fear and an optimistic heartbreak only love can bring. He could not penetrate the invisible and unspeakable barriers which were wont to encapsulate those with the disquieting dejection of death. There was an impenetrable space separating those who experienced loss and those who could not, like Gabriel. He was bemused for as to the whereabouts of the missing team-members, as well as the aforementioned lack of god-wolf carcass. The angel could not tell whether anyone who was left on the field was dying, he did not know if there were people yet lying among the rocks who would need help either. All the archangel knew was that he would not be of help to them. He was an arbiter, a soldier of special occasion who was stripped of all special skills and divine capabilities.
Gabriel felt the wind brush against his scarred back. He reached over his shoulder and merely rubbed the tip of the back-length scar which ran in vertical parallels. Then his hand came to rest behind his right ear, where he knew his mark to be, the mark of the outcast; Gabriel’s eternal moniker. The angel-turned-human wanted to cry then, he felt an overwhelming shutter pass through his body, a wave of emotion which was brought on by the tremor of psychological stress and physical distress. Instead he breathed and let the sorrow from his past life flow on in his stream of consciousness, sure it would resurface soon enough.
And Gabriel stood there at the center of the quadrilateral of despair, his arms folded in front of his bare-chest. He didn’t want to leave it, he made himself watch this sadness, because there was a kind of catharsis in the experience. Hell, if he could not truly feel it, he would live in it. If he could not take on the burden, own it, he could, at least, not ignore it.
Atticus held his lover, Veti held hers. The fire-demon, which had been so instrumental in the destruction of the wolf-god, seemed to wither and die as well, leaving the red-head sorceress from earlier behind it. Everything was broken, people were surely missing, and the site, which held such victory in it, was seeped in sadness as well. At no other time did Gabriel feel the sting of the outsider more clearly than now, as he stood among the bent and broken, the battered and burned. How ironic, since Gabriel, in relation, was perhaps the most scorned and beaten out of all of the one’s who laid here. Those thoughts, which were so indulgent and pitiful, were sacrilege to the occasion, and so Gabriel cast them out as such.
Gabriel could not reach out to anyone in the quadrilateral of despair. The atmosphere was thick with fear and an optimistic heartbreak only love can bring. He could not penetrate the invisible and unspeakable barriers which were wont to encapsulate those with the disquieting dejection of death. There was an impenetrable space separating those who experienced loss and those who could not, like Gabriel. He was bemused for as to the whereabouts of the missing team-members, as well as the aforementioned lack of god-wolf carcass. The angel could not tell whether anyone who was left on the field was dying, he did not know if there were people yet lying among the rocks who would need help either. All the archangel knew was that he would not be of help to them. He was an arbiter, a soldier of special occasion who was stripped of all special skills and divine capabilities.
Gabriel felt the wind brush against his scarred back. He reached over his shoulder and merely rubbed the tip of the back-length scar which ran in vertical parallels. Then his hand came to rest behind his right ear, where he knew his mark to be, the mark of the outcast; Gabriel’s eternal moniker. The angel-turned-human wanted to cry then, he felt an overwhelming shutter pass through his body, a wave of emotion which was brought on by the tremor of psychological stress and physical distress. Instead he breathed and let the sorrow from his past life flow on in his stream of consciousness, sure it would resurface soon enough.
And Gabriel stood there at the center of the quadrilateral of despair, his arms folded in front of his bare-chest. He didn’t want to leave it, he made himself watch this sadness, because there was a kind of catharsis in the experience. Hell, if he could not truly feel it, he would live in it. If he could not take on the burden, own it, he could, at least, not ignore it.
Me too
.
Yeah, I'll see about getting something up. May I suggest an interest check go up when we make landfall?
I feel like we certainly have space, and we should have an active interest in bringing in new players.
I feel like we certainly have space, and we should have an active interest in bringing in new players.
Looks good to me.
Goods job.
Goods job.
The body was brought over in the jet josh used much earlier that morning.
It all ties together.
It all ties together.
There's a little something for you guys to mull over. Let me know if you have any problems.
10:47 AM
Quantico, Virginia
J.L was satisfied with Mark’s response, he found some insight just in the initial analysis. He knew, in no time, Mark would have something more solid. Whether that profile meant anything at all, after it was complete, was unknowable; which is why J.L immediately put in an order for another jet. Just as he was doing so he received word from Mitchel Green concerning a case he had recently found on his desk. Mitchel worked directly underneath J.L, but sometimes it was hard to tell since Mr. Green ran most of the day-to-day operations and only ever spoke to J.L when there were problems, when he needed something, or if there was a performance review. Since both cases were out in New York, and they were going to be sending agents that way anyway, they signed a joint order (it gave the order more credence and made it far easier to file the forms).
Green wore large horn-rimmed glasses, he was a red-head of middle age with freckles running along his neck; he scribbled something on a notepad as he held the handset of a phone to his ear. J.L was on the other line, this promised to be the last call they’d have to make to eachother all day, they were a bit sluggish with their speech and passively annoyed.
“Who are you sending?” Mitchel placed his pen on the form, waiting for the name.
“Mark… Vern.”
Mitchel tilted his head as he tried to create a face for the name, then it came to him, and he grimaced. “Ah, okay. Is that the teacher?”
J.L was holding his head on the other line, a migraine was creeping up on him. “Yeah.”
“Has that been cleared?” Green asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, I spoke with Central earlier.” J.L responded, he popped a few Advil and sipped the remnants of his coffee to wash them down.
“Well, alright then…”
“Wait,” J.L interrupted, “what’s your agent’s name?”
“Oh, right, uh… Thomas Wakefield.” Green confirmed after checking the running list of names he had near his desk. Just as Mitchel said Thomas’ name he saw the agent walking up to his office door.
Kaily was, once again, unnerved as Thomas approached her desk. “Sure,” she responded, trying to forget the comments he made about her smell.
“I’ve got to go Jay, I’ll talk to you later.” Mitchel said over the phone. He waved Thomas into his office as he hung up with J.L. “Sit down Mr. Wakefield.”
J.L was as happy to get of the phone as Green was, and he got straight down to business as well. Josh was already in his office, sitting just where he had hours earlier. “Josh, I need you to bring this over to Martha and have it faxed to acquisitions, then get Mark. I need him ready to go. Confirmation should be on my desk in less than 30 minutes.” J.L spoke the orders steadily, without any hesitation.
“Am I going with him, sir?”
“Yes. I’ll arrange transport to meet you at the airport. And, Josh,” J.L removed his reading glasses and set them on the desk, “don’t be afraid of Mark. He’s a genius but he isn’t always right, and he’s a man just like me and you, made of flesh, and blood, and bone. If you’re going to do him any good, you need to build a connection with him. Do you understand?” J.L was serious, meticulous with his words. He was setting up the pieces, arranging their paths as such.
“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, J.L.” Josh said, as a son would to a father, and then he left.
Mitchel Green called in Kaily as Thomas took his seat, he sent his order with her to be faxed. “I need you to head to New York on assignment. Primarily it’s to put you at the crime scene, also so you can assist closely in the investigation.” Mitchel opened the file he was given by Wakefield, glanced through the profile quickly. “I’ll have to correspond with you on the profile after you get to the crime scene. Right now I’d like you to visit the morgue. Take a look at the body, see if it tells you anything. When you’re done there report back up here, I’ll have your assignment all detailed and we can send you on your way. I hope you have a go-bag here, you might be staying over there for a while.” Mitchel took a sip of the glass of water he had next to him and then looked back up at Thomas. “Any questions?”
Josh found Mark easily enough, tucked away in some dark corner of the Headquarters. “Hey, Mark,” Josh spoke ahead of his approach. “J.L wanted to let you know that we’re heading to New York today, in the next half-hour in fact.” Josh sat next to Mark, a sternness appearing on the boy-like face. “I thought I could brief you on the case. It looks like you’ve been working over the files, do you have any questions?” Josh asked. He remembered what J.L said, he needed to ’build a connection’. He held back a laugh as he thought of that advice, combined with the man he figured Mark to be, and the man who stood before him now. Josh lied to J.L, he didn’t actually understand what he was supposed to do, it was like talking to a slightly more responsive brick wall whenever he encountered Mark.
Quantico, Virginia
J.L was satisfied with Mark’s response, he found some insight just in the initial analysis. He knew, in no time, Mark would have something more solid. Whether that profile meant anything at all, after it was complete, was unknowable; which is why J.L immediately put in an order for another jet. Just as he was doing so he received word from Mitchel Green concerning a case he had recently found on his desk. Mitchel worked directly underneath J.L, but sometimes it was hard to tell since Mr. Green ran most of the day-to-day operations and only ever spoke to J.L when there were problems, when he needed something, or if there was a performance review. Since both cases were out in New York, and they were going to be sending agents that way anyway, they signed a joint order (it gave the order more credence and made it far easier to file the forms).
Green wore large horn-rimmed glasses, he was a red-head of middle age with freckles running along his neck; he scribbled something on a notepad as he held the handset of a phone to his ear. J.L was on the other line, this promised to be the last call they’d have to make to eachother all day, they were a bit sluggish with their speech and passively annoyed.
“Who are you sending?” Mitchel placed his pen on the form, waiting for the name.
“Mark… Vern.”
Mitchel tilted his head as he tried to create a face for the name, then it came to him, and he grimaced. “Ah, okay. Is that the teacher?”
J.L was holding his head on the other line, a migraine was creeping up on him. “Yeah.”
“Has that been cleared?” Green asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, I spoke with Central earlier.” J.L responded, he popped a few Advil and sipped the remnants of his coffee to wash them down.
“Well, alright then…”
“Wait,” J.L interrupted, “what’s your agent’s name?”
“Oh, right, uh… Thomas Wakefield.” Green confirmed after checking the running list of names he had near his desk. Just as Mitchel said Thomas’ name he saw the agent walking up to his office door.
Kaily was, once again, unnerved as Thomas approached her desk. “Sure,” she responded, trying to forget the comments he made about her smell.
“I’ve got to go Jay, I’ll talk to you later.” Mitchel said over the phone. He waved Thomas into his office as he hung up with J.L. “Sit down Mr. Wakefield.”
J.L was as happy to get of the phone as Green was, and he got straight down to business as well. Josh was already in his office, sitting just where he had hours earlier. “Josh, I need you to bring this over to Martha and have it faxed to acquisitions, then get Mark. I need him ready to go. Confirmation should be on my desk in less than 30 minutes.” J.L spoke the orders steadily, without any hesitation.
“Am I going with him, sir?”
“Yes. I’ll arrange transport to meet you at the airport. And, Josh,” J.L removed his reading glasses and set them on the desk, “don’t be afraid of Mark. He’s a genius but he isn’t always right, and he’s a man just like me and you, made of flesh, and blood, and bone. If you’re going to do him any good, you need to build a connection with him. Do you understand?” J.L was serious, meticulous with his words. He was setting up the pieces, arranging their paths as such.
“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, J.L.” Josh said, as a son would to a father, and then he left.
Mitchel Green called in Kaily as Thomas took his seat, he sent his order with her to be faxed. “I need you to head to New York on assignment. Primarily it’s to put you at the crime scene, also so you can assist closely in the investigation.” Mitchel opened the file he was given by Wakefield, glanced through the profile quickly. “I’ll have to correspond with you on the profile after you get to the crime scene. Right now I’d like you to visit the morgue. Take a look at the body, see if it tells you anything. When you’re done there report back up here, I’ll have your assignment all detailed and we can send you on your way. I hope you have a go-bag here, you might be staying over there for a while.” Mitchel took a sip of the glass of water he had next to him and then looked back up at Thomas. “Any questions?”
Josh found Mark easily enough, tucked away in some dark corner of the Headquarters. “Hey, Mark,” Josh spoke ahead of his approach. “J.L wanted to let you know that we’re heading to New York today, in the next half-hour in fact.” Josh sat next to Mark, a sternness appearing on the boy-like face. “I thought I could brief you on the case. It looks like you’ve been working over the files, do you have any questions?” Josh asked. He remembered what J.L said, he needed to ’build a connection’. He held back a laugh as he thought of that advice, combined with the man he figured Mark to be, and the man who stood before him now. Josh lied to J.L, he didn’t actually understand what he was supposed to do, it was like talking to a slightly more responsive brick wall whenever he encountered Mark.
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