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mina_de_malfois) wrote2007-08-21 04:29 pm
mina_de_malfois) wrote2007-08-21 04:29 pm
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2.11 Mina de Malfois and the Fictional Decks (part one)
[I promise: at some point I'll update the footnotes. I just can't seem to find time for it lately.]
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No resemblance is intended to any person or persons living, dead, or online. No BNFs were harmed in the making of this fic.
Permissions: Mina de Malfois is an original fictional creation. These stories and characters are the sole property of the author, but she lends them out for fanfic and fanart. A list of Mina de Malfois/Sanguinity things by other people can be found here.
I couldn’t reach Arc, and I rather had the feeling Xena would only laugh at me, so I found myself online and looking for PrinceC. He hath a sympathetic ear, that boy. I had to leave out the ‘roommate’ part, because I accidentally began by saying I was having offline problems with Josh Amos, which left me having to edit any ‘Jen’ references out of the story, but I managed to get some of the gist of the thing across.
‘Stay in my condo,’ he offered promptly, and I wondered if he’d misinterpreted this as an in-game problem, but no. ‘There’s no one there at the moment, so you’ll have to fend for yourself, but that's no big deal. I’ll call the concierge and tell her to give you the key.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, unable to believe a solution, and an upscale solution at that, had so readily dropped into my lap.
‘Of course I’m sure, Lady Mina,’ he said. ‘I’m doing the con circuit from now until the start of fall term--until three days past the start of term, actually--and I’d like to know the place is occupied. You’d be doing me a favor, really.’
Of course I didn’t buy that for a minute, but it was a gallant lie, and my relief at finding a Jenfree space to hang my hat was considerable, not that I wore one--hat, I mean. There was just one teensy problem remaining: when he gave me the address, and started in with the detailed directions, it emerged that I was looking at a drive of about an hour, and I don’t have a car. If Jen were here I suppose I could have had her steal one, but that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? So I essayed a few questions about public transit, and found PrinceC willing but unable to continue being helpful: it was immediately clear he had no idea how to use p. trans. to get from my place to his. I thought a few thoughts about the sort of person who doesn’t have to use the transit system, but I squelched them all unspoken the instant I realized how ungrateful I was being. He couldn’t help it if he had a car, or all his friends had cars, could he? And who could blame them: public transit carried its own threat level, especially at this hour. But escape was my primary goal, and this was merely a temporary difficulty, instantly solvable if I could just find some clearheaded plebeian soul to give me reliable direction.
‘I can take you, Miss Mina,’ Warr1or broke in, and I jumped. I hadn’t realized anyone else was logged in to PrinceC’s chatroom.
‘Um,’ I said doubtfully, groping for words. ‘That’s...that’s very kind, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble, Warr1or.’ Was he living nearby? I wondered, a little alarmed at the possibility I was residing at Stalker Junction.
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ he said firmly. ‘The important thing is to make sure you’re safe.’ I was in full agreement there.
‘Do you live near me?’ I asked.
‘I’m about two hours’ drive west of your campus,’ Warr1or said, ‘so you start packing, and I’ll start driving.’ Two hours west of me? Goodness, there could be cows where he lived. Or corn. ‘Do you feel safe waiting for me in your lobby?’
‘Absolutely,’ I assured him. ‘We have a housemother; nothing untoward goes on under her steely eye. But, Warr1or, are you sure about this? It’ll be a three-hour drive for you and, well, it’s the middle of the night.’
‘It’s no problem,’ he repeated.
‘You know, Warr1or, you’re welcome to crash at the condo too,’ PrinceC said, causing me to blush crimson with sudden embarrassment squick. ‘My bed’s made up, or you can use the couch.’
There was a pause, during which I found myself hoping for at least two conflicting outcomes. It sucks when my curiosity is exactly equal to my common sense.
‘Perhaps,’ Warr1or said eventually, ‘it would be best if I stayed to guard Miss Mina from harm. The impropriety is less important than her safety.’ He reminded me again to pack my things, and logged off before I could dither or change my mind and take my chances with hitchhiking or something.
‘That worked out well, didn’t it?’ said PrinceC, all male and oblivious. I rolled my eyes.
‘Yes, super,’ I said, reminding myself that I did have spiffy Jenfree accommodation to look forward to, after all. ‘Where are the rest of your family going to be, while I’m in your condo?’
‘At home,’ he said, and I quirked one eyebrow. ‘They don’t visit me at the condo very often--I only have the one guest room, and anyway, I like spending time at home. My old room is still there.’
‘Well,’ I said, anxious to get offline before my gratitude gave way to snippy, or worse yet palpably envious, remarks about his privileged accommodations, ‘it’s very kind of you. I really appreciate this. I should start packing, I suppose, so I’ll talk to you next time I’m online--’
‘Which will be tonight or tomorrow, if I know you,’ he said smugly. ‘There’s a guestroom desktop, so feel free. Not that I’m demanding conversation as board or anything, but you know: let me know you’ve arrived safely, okay? And what it’s like living with Warr1or,’ he added, his emoticon seeming to smirk.
For some reason I’d been expecting Warr1or to turn up outside the dorm in a rusty truck, but his vehicle, though firmly in the truck category, was immaculately maintained. It almost gleamed. I stepped shyly outside, and Warr1or immediately leapt out to take my bags. He was wearing a battered brown cowboy hat, which fit my preconceived notions, but also what looked like--I squinted slightly--a jacket rescued from Navy Surplus, complete with gold braid. There was a yellow rose on his lapel. I head-tilted in perplexity. It looked good on him, but it wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting.
Having stowed my luggage, he came over to stand beside me, and awkwardly held out his hand to shake mine. Seeing him up close, I could tell he was quite a bit older than me, thirty-something for sure, and he had a kind of outdoorsy charm. Going solely on appearance, I’d have been willing to bet he knew his way around a tractor, and possibly a ship. His grip was firm, but his palm was sweating slightly, and I felt less nervous myself when I realized my rescuer probably shared my slight social awkwardness. That would be why he wasn’t talking, I guess.
‘My hero,’ I said with heavy irony, but he responded with full seriousness as he helped me up into the cab.
‘I couldn’t leave you to face Josh Amos on your own,’ he said, ‘and besides, I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you.’
Oh hell, I thought, what now? If he was going to try to convert me to Resonance, I was going to have to fling myself from the truck regardless of speed.
We drove in silence for a while, and I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His hands were huge, and relaxed on the wheel and gear shift, and he drove with that kind of easy confidence, not showing off but simply highly competent, which is so strangely attractive...Stop that, I told myself firmly. Sleep deprivation was no excuse for that sort of thing.
‘So what’s up with the Captain’s jacket?’ I asked, by way of breaking the hush.
‘Admiral’s jacket,’ he corrected me, but too mildly to have really been much offended. ‘I couldn’t resist buying something to reflect my new status in fandom.’
‘It looks good on you,’ I said truthfully. ‘What new status in fandom?’
‘I’m an Admiral in La Armada de los Cañones,’ he said proudly, and when I continued looking politely blank he explained further. ‘We monitor fanfiction and other fan activities for canon compliancy, and we offer support and protection to fans whose canon pairings or readings are under attack.’ I felt a growing sense of dread. This sounded exactly the sort of thing Warr1or was bound to become unhinged over. ‘As a matter of fact, Mina, that’s why I wanted to speak to you,’ he went on. Yes, the growing sense of d. had been accurate, I could see that already. His eyes were sort of glowing in the moonlight. ‘Mi General,’ he said reverently, ‘that is, Almirante General Medina Sidonia--’
‘I’ve heard of her,’ I interrupted. ‘She’s the one they say is the single most arrogant person in fandom.’
‘She is not,’ he said, giving me a stern glance. ‘She has to issue fiats and decrees, Mina: it’s the only way to get things done. We’d be awash in poor readings and non-canonical interpretations without her.’
I personally saw no harm in us being awash in ‘poor readings,’ but I wisely held my tongue. He was behind the wheel, after all. I didn’t want him running us into the base of a tree in his agitation; however strongly I feel about the death of the author, it’s not enough to warrant my own.
‘You’ve come to the attention of the Armada recently, Mina,’ Warr1or said. He sounded as if he was trying hard to be kind and comforting, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I absolutely didn’t care. After all, it was obvious that he took all this very much to heart, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings when he’d come dashing through the night to rescue me from a situation I hadn’t even been able to explain fully. So I settled for making a non-committal noise.
‘Some of our people thought that that essay of yours on the Tortured Tutor was too favourable, given his treatment in the series,’ he went on. ‘Mi General called it ‘sickening adoration’ on first seeing it. And then there’s that wizardfic of yours. Mina, you probably didn’t even realize this, but a lot of people are reading it as pre-slash, and saying you’re obviously going to hook up at least two of the male characters. I won’t say who; it’s not important, since obviously that can’t be what you meant. What is important is that I assured them you’ll stay canon-compliant even if I have to help you do a close reading for context myself.’
I fought down a contrary urge to wrench the wheel from his hand and put us off the road. ‘How kind of you,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m sure you’ve saved me from a fate worse than death.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t that serious,’ he said in perfect seriousness. ‘But in Sanguinity the Armada does own, well, an armada, and you could have found yourself blockaded or captured or fired upon. There’s just one thing.’
‘Yes?’ I said impatiently, after a handful of seconds had ticked by in silence.
‘We have an assignment for you,’ he said, making this sound like a rare treat. ‘A group of OTP ficcers have been besieged by hostile, mocking ninja hordes, and we’re sending the Dread Pirate Roberta to their hideout to smuggle out their underground radio broadcast. It’s an important podcast, and they deserve to be heard. She’s a bit of a loose canon, Roberta; usually fights on our side, but she freely admits to not having an OTP in any of her fandoms. Makes me wonder if she’s a real fan at all. But she’s well-canoned, and a superb asset in these covert operations.’
‘What does that have to do with me?’ I asked, well and truly baffled.
‘We want you to go along on the mission,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ll give you the sign and countersign, and you can make contact with the enclave and help them out. They’ve heard of you, Mina, and they know you’re on their side. And their OTP is canon, so this will bolster your reputation among my superiors for canon compliancy.’
footnotes
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No resemblance is intended to any person or persons living, dead, or online. No BNFs were harmed in the making of this fic.
Permissions: Mina de Malfois is an original fictional creation. These stories and characters are the sole property of the author, but she lends them out for fanfic and fanart. A list of Mina de Malfois/Sanguinity things by other people can be found here.
I couldn’t reach Arc, and I rather had the feeling Xena would only laugh at me, so I found myself online and looking for PrinceC. He hath a sympathetic ear, that boy. I had to leave out the ‘roommate’ part, because I accidentally began by saying I was having offline problems with Josh Amos, which left me having to edit any ‘Jen’ references out of the story, but I managed to get some of the gist of the thing across.
‘Stay in my condo,’ he offered promptly, and I wondered if he’d misinterpreted this as an in-game problem, but no. ‘There’s no one there at the moment, so you’ll have to fend for yourself, but that's no big deal. I’ll call the concierge and tell her to give you the key.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, unable to believe a solution, and an upscale solution at that, had so readily dropped into my lap.
‘Of course I’m sure, Lady Mina,’ he said. ‘I’m doing the con circuit from now until the start of fall term--until three days past the start of term, actually--and I’d like to know the place is occupied. You’d be doing me a favor, really.’
Of course I didn’t buy that for a minute, but it was a gallant lie, and my relief at finding a Jenfree space to hang my hat was considerable, not that I wore one--hat, I mean. There was just one teensy problem remaining: when he gave me the address, and started in with the detailed directions, it emerged that I was looking at a drive of about an hour, and I don’t have a car. If Jen were here I suppose I could have had her steal one, but that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? So I essayed a few questions about public transit, and found PrinceC willing but unable to continue being helpful: it was immediately clear he had no idea how to use p. trans. to get from my place to his. I thought a few thoughts about the sort of person who doesn’t have to use the transit system, but I squelched them all unspoken the instant I realized how ungrateful I was being. He couldn’t help it if he had a car, or all his friends had cars, could he? And who could blame them: public transit carried its own threat level, especially at this hour. But escape was my primary goal, and this was merely a temporary difficulty, instantly solvable if I could just find some clearheaded plebeian soul to give me reliable direction.
‘I can take you, Miss Mina,’ Warr1or broke in, and I jumped. I hadn’t realized anyone else was logged in to PrinceC’s chatroom.
‘Um,’ I said doubtfully, groping for words. ‘That’s...that’s very kind, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble, Warr1or.’ Was he living nearby? I wondered, a little alarmed at the possibility I was residing at Stalker Junction.
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ he said firmly. ‘The important thing is to make sure you’re safe.’ I was in full agreement there.
‘Do you live near me?’ I asked.
‘I’m about two hours’ drive west of your campus,’ Warr1or said, ‘so you start packing, and I’ll start driving.’ Two hours west of me? Goodness, there could be cows where he lived. Or corn. ‘Do you feel safe waiting for me in your lobby?’
‘Absolutely,’ I assured him. ‘We have a housemother; nothing untoward goes on under her steely eye. But, Warr1or, are you sure about this? It’ll be a three-hour drive for you and, well, it’s the middle of the night.’
‘It’s no problem,’ he repeated.
‘You know, Warr1or, you’re welcome to crash at the condo too,’ PrinceC said, causing me to blush crimson with sudden embarrassment squick. ‘My bed’s made up, or you can use the couch.’
There was a pause, during which I found myself hoping for at least two conflicting outcomes. It sucks when my curiosity is exactly equal to my common sense.
‘Perhaps,’ Warr1or said eventually, ‘it would be best if I stayed to guard Miss Mina from harm. The impropriety is less important than her safety.’ He reminded me again to pack my things, and logged off before I could dither or change my mind and take my chances with hitchhiking or something.
‘That worked out well, didn’t it?’ said PrinceC, all male and oblivious. I rolled my eyes.
‘Yes, super,’ I said, reminding myself that I did have spiffy Jenfree accommodation to look forward to, after all. ‘Where are the rest of your family going to be, while I’m in your condo?’
‘At home,’ he said, and I quirked one eyebrow. ‘They don’t visit me at the condo very often--I only have the one guest room, and anyway, I like spending time at home. My old room is still there.’
‘Well,’ I said, anxious to get offline before my gratitude gave way to snippy, or worse yet palpably envious, remarks about his privileged accommodations, ‘it’s very kind of you. I really appreciate this. I should start packing, I suppose, so I’ll talk to you next time I’m online--’
‘Which will be tonight or tomorrow, if I know you,’ he said smugly. ‘There’s a guestroom desktop, so feel free. Not that I’m demanding conversation as board or anything, but you know: let me know you’ve arrived safely, okay? And what it’s like living with Warr1or,’ he added, his emoticon seeming to smirk.
For some reason I’d been expecting Warr1or to turn up outside the dorm in a rusty truck, but his vehicle, though firmly in the truck category, was immaculately maintained. It almost gleamed. I stepped shyly outside, and Warr1or immediately leapt out to take my bags. He was wearing a battered brown cowboy hat, which fit my preconceived notions, but also what looked like--I squinted slightly--a jacket rescued from Navy Surplus, complete with gold braid. There was a yellow rose on his lapel. I head-tilted in perplexity. It looked good on him, but it wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting.
Having stowed my luggage, he came over to stand beside me, and awkwardly held out his hand to shake mine. Seeing him up close, I could tell he was quite a bit older than me, thirty-something for sure, and he had a kind of outdoorsy charm. Going solely on appearance, I’d have been willing to bet he knew his way around a tractor, and possibly a ship. His grip was firm, but his palm was sweating slightly, and I felt less nervous myself when I realized my rescuer probably shared my slight social awkwardness. That would be why he wasn’t talking, I guess.
‘My hero,’ I said with heavy irony, but he responded with full seriousness as he helped me up into the cab.
‘I couldn’t leave you to face Josh Amos on your own,’ he said, ‘and besides, I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you.’
Oh hell, I thought, what now? If he was going to try to convert me to Resonance, I was going to have to fling myself from the truck regardless of speed.
We drove in silence for a while, and I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His hands were huge, and relaxed on the wheel and gear shift, and he drove with that kind of easy confidence, not showing off but simply highly competent, which is so strangely attractive...Stop that, I told myself firmly. Sleep deprivation was no excuse for that sort of thing.
‘So what’s up with the Captain’s jacket?’ I asked, by way of breaking the hush.
‘Admiral’s jacket,’ he corrected me, but too mildly to have really been much offended. ‘I couldn’t resist buying something to reflect my new status in fandom.’
‘It looks good on you,’ I said truthfully. ‘What new status in fandom?’
‘I’m an Admiral in La Armada de los Cañones,’ he said proudly, and when I continued looking politely blank he explained further. ‘We monitor fanfiction and other fan activities for canon compliancy, and we offer support and protection to fans whose canon pairings or readings are under attack.’ I felt a growing sense of dread. This sounded exactly the sort of thing Warr1or was bound to become unhinged over. ‘As a matter of fact, Mina, that’s why I wanted to speak to you,’ he went on. Yes, the growing sense of d. had been accurate, I could see that already. His eyes were sort of glowing in the moonlight. ‘Mi General,’ he said reverently, ‘that is, Almirante General Medina Sidonia--’
‘I’ve heard of her,’ I interrupted. ‘She’s the one they say is the single most arrogant person in fandom.’
‘She is not,’ he said, giving me a stern glance. ‘She has to issue fiats and decrees, Mina: it’s the only way to get things done. We’d be awash in poor readings and non-canonical interpretations without her.’
I personally saw no harm in us being awash in ‘poor readings,’ but I wisely held my tongue. He was behind the wheel, after all. I didn’t want him running us into the base of a tree in his agitation; however strongly I feel about the death of the author, it’s not enough to warrant my own.
‘You’ve come to the attention of the Armada recently, Mina,’ Warr1or said. He sounded as if he was trying hard to be kind and comforting, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I absolutely didn’t care. After all, it was obvious that he took all this very much to heart, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings when he’d come dashing through the night to rescue me from a situation I hadn’t even been able to explain fully. So I settled for making a non-committal noise.
‘Some of our people thought that that essay of yours on the Tortured Tutor was too favourable, given his treatment in the series,’ he went on. ‘Mi General called it ‘sickening adoration’ on first seeing it. And then there’s that wizardfic of yours. Mina, you probably didn’t even realize this, but a lot of people are reading it as pre-slash, and saying you’re obviously going to hook up at least two of the male characters. I won’t say who; it’s not important, since obviously that can’t be what you meant. What is important is that I assured them you’ll stay canon-compliant even if I have to help you do a close reading for context myself.’
I fought down a contrary urge to wrench the wheel from his hand and put us off the road. ‘How kind of you,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m sure you’ve saved me from a fate worse than death.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t that serious,’ he said in perfect seriousness. ‘But in Sanguinity the Armada does own, well, an armada, and you could have found yourself blockaded or captured or fired upon. There’s just one thing.’
‘Yes?’ I said impatiently, after a handful of seconds had ticked by in silence.
‘We have an assignment for you,’ he said, making this sound like a rare treat. ‘A group of OTP ficcers have been besieged by hostile, mocking ninja hordes, and we’re sending the Dread Pirate Roberta to their hideout to smuggle out their underground radio broadcast. It’s an important podcast, and they deserve to be heard. She’s a bit of a loose canon, Roberta; usually fights on our side, but she freely admits to not having an OTP in any of her fandoms. Makes me wonder if she’s a real fan at all. But she’s well-canoned, and a superb asset in these covert operations.’
‘What does that have to do with me?’ I asked, well and truly baffled.
‘We want you to go along on the mission,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ll give you the sign and countersign, and you can make contact with the enclave and help them out. They’ve heard of you, Mina, and they know you’re on their side. And their OTP is canon, so this will bolster your reputation among my superiors for canon compliancy.’