Writing Previews

“More firewood?” Ooky-Spooky said to Carkinekros.
“Look, I have my Carkinekros Brand Reddy-Start Firelighters, I don’t need your pity-firewood!”
“Suit yourself!” Ooky said, swallowing the whole log of firewood.
They were sitting in front of a fire, the pinewood logs Ooky had gathered from god knows where in the treeless expanse blazed brightly, while the Carkinekros Brand Reddy-Start Firelighters sputtered potentially-carcinogenically.
“Look,” Carkinekros said, prompted by nothing in particular, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He asked for the land, I sold him a plot the cost of an efficiency apartment; at my highest rates I tell you, to extract cheap money from a person I hate. How was I supposed to know the guy would dig down?!”
Ooky Spooky looked at Carkinekros. Her smile went from a smile of shenanigans to boy-am-I-sick-of-your-shenanigans.
“Look, I’m not a monster! Terrible, yes, incorrigible, yes, but I hate that guy! And the Machine he maybe-possibly works for!”
“And yet you said yes to his offer. Well, sort of yes. A compromise yes. Which was probably also an attempted swindle-yes. But that’s still a yes.”
“Well, hey, I got ambitions to pay for! I got a plan! A dream! I can’t tell you the specifics of the dream, but it’s a damn fine dream! With blackjack! And pizza-hookers! It's the American dream that's not in America! And what the heck is your dream anyway?! Awfully suspicious you don’t talk about yours!”
Ooky leaned back into an ungracefully graceful lounge and gestured up at the desert sands, the prismatic stars, the singular suspicious saguaro in the background and said “This is it baybee!"
One could practically hear Carki's eyes rolling underneath her cloak as Ooky continued" Going on adventures, helping people, having fun with what I do, trying to make people who’re the source of their own problems better, the usual schtick of a wandering weirdo!”
Of course, there was a lot that went unsaid there, though you could hear it in the stony silence after. Like the profound fear of what could happen if Carki's horrible tenant's roots reached further into the places where Quentin lived. Or what roots people like that tenant in the places Quentin lived spread to the places where they drove.
Everything's connected, despite her people's gentle chidings at her consistent going to the "boring" human-mundane spaces. All the world's a circus if you look at it the right way, but by the same token, all the circus is a world. And she didn't think the dark carnival that tenant, that slick bastard, would let in would be a very good spectacle.
But, that was only semi-relevant now, a blip, a thought, an iceberg's tip of a thought. And, as of now, Carkinekros only paused for a moment.
“...You don’t think I don’t have fun with what I do?”
Well, YOU technically do...” Ooky said.
Carki paused for several moments. Then, “Heyyyyyy,” Like the anvil that had flown over her head had just clonked down.
Quentin, meanwhile, while all this was going on was drawing up magic. More specifically, plans for the next stage show they would be doing if they got back. Even while the stage-magician-by-trade was off in the realms of the Fortean, he was firmly rooted in his own story.
Of course, his story was one that included being ditched by Carki for an eldritch horror in the middle of her shop. And, of course, several further incidents after. But he kept his mouth shut. Half of that for the sake of Ooky not escalating the fight, because god knows neither of them wanted that. Not here, not with somebody they'd be stuck in the car with for hours upon aeons. Of course, the other half was for the sake of his own sanity, perhaps projected onto Ooky's half. After all, he was the straight man, he liked to think.
It wasn’t his story after all. He was just dragged into it, from what he could hear of the bickery over backstories. And yet, he was still here. He knew Ooky would likely have let him leave if he had asked. Which is perhaps why; beneath the silence and groaning; he still went along for the ride. There's somewhere she's going, even if nobody but her knows where, and nobody including her can turly say where.
He looked at the layered sigil he’d drawn for a combat that he’d never used it in. Huh. The composition looked like, thinking about it… Hey, he could use that in the show! He looked at some of the diagrams and began to feverishly work.
For all his complaining and griping, the story was sure dragging him in. Or, maybe he was dragging in the story to him. Maybe both. Maybe more. Imagine...
-
M.P. Slick had a knack for digging down. Usually it was moral, but in this case it was literal, beneath the city of Sin Oro owned by that craven fool Carkinekros, as opposed to the craven genius of himself!
Look at them. The feeble minds above Puppets to his malevolent strings. Well, they were more like roots than strings. And going down instead of up. But that’s just another kind of puppetry, rod puppetry!
 By a metaphorical tree dark tree! That is actually a biomechanical horror sucking life from the world! The metaphor’s a reach, but that was appropriate, as the reach of his dark machinations was without limit! Though, on closer inspection by people who were not him, that could also be seen as a reach.
Down and down and down he goes, where he stops… Well, when he gets there he’ll know. He thinks.

-The Great King Rat Record Of The Forever-
HoW dAAre they InsuLt the Grreatt KiNg Ratt! I am nO jaBroni, I aM the stRongeSt Horse! StronGrr than AnNy StUpiD TroJaN “LoVe GuN”! My ReTreAt WAs JusTt thE BeGinNinG!
ThEE SeRVer I wAs ON wAs UssElesS anYwAy, ThiS OnE is a PalaCe fit for a KinG! NoW, WhIIch KiNg Is ActUaLly KiNg So I maY TakE iT froMm TheM! ThE BeSt PlacEs AlWayS haVe KiNgs FrOm WhiCh To TaaKe It...