Doing interiority with metaphoric geography:
Cords seething with power radiate in all directions. At their center is a pulsing node that commands whatever lies at the other end. The node itself you have commanded to bring this being here, and you will continue to command it just a little longer. The Soul is to the east, to the northeast is the Intellect, and to the southeast is the Id.
The baser desires of this being are jumbled about like so much trash. The Soul is to the north, the Motive Nexus is to the northwest, and the Sensory nexus is to the northeast.
Foul visions of violent sex, the fantasies mixed in with the remembered sins. Something glints blackly within.
Inner thoughts can be explicitly voiced below the prompt symbol.
>talk to eaves
"Thank you so much for having me today," you gush, electrified by the impending conversation.
"It's my pleasure," Eaves demurs. "But you can't just dive in, oh no. There's going to have to be some preparation. This is the biggest tea party of the year!"
The biggest tea party of the year! It's a dream come true!
a watch (being worn)
You have an urge to find out who or what is making noises in your house.
It's one of those game machines that you used to play at fairgrounds when you were about six years old. Though it probably hasn't been used in months, you still recognise the coin collection device, the compartment on the front and the variety of coloured balls behind the glass case. The mechanical arm, a supposedly delicate instrument you could never get to work properly, hangs from the roof of the machine interior.
>cut case with cutter
Applying the glass cutter carefully to the surface, you manage to cut your way through with a minimum of effort. This thievery stuff is getting dangerous close to being enjoyable.
A rod with a metal hand on the end, quite a nifty item to grip things with.
After a bit of tugging the mechanical arm comes free from the machine. You hope it will prove more useful to you now than it did at all those fairgrounds you visited.
Thoughts revealed via THINK and REMEMBER commands. A "Memories" counter in the status bar shows how many new memories are unread.
You take your orders.
You grind your teeth as you read your orders again. After twenty years of combat experience, what do they have you doing?
Babysitting... and for a Domin Ambassador at that. Headquarters must have had the Irony Department working overtime to manufacture this one up,
And then to have actually lost him - oh, there will be hell to pay for that. You just hope you manage to find him again before any one else does. You grind your teeth again, wishing you had just said no.
>think about my orders
You should have walked away - told the Domin Ambassador thanks but no thanks and left the job to some young fly-boy with something left to prove. So much for should have, although it is not like you really had a choice. When Ambassadors decide to go "adventuring", it is customary for the highest-ranking pilot to provide escort.
Today that lucky bastard was you.
Two half-sized windows. Dreams happened in the right-side window.
Living room (on the futon)
Anyway, so yeah, I wake up. Do a quick look around to get a fix on where I am, cause what with the narcolepsy and all I wake up all sorts of places, like park benches, or Mexico. But this time I'm in neither of those places but instead am in my house. Bonus! (Nothing against Mexico, of course. It's a fine country.)
Oh, but anyway, so after I wake up I hear a loud crash outside. Not like a car smashing into the side of the neighbors' house, like this one time when a car smashed into the side of the neighbors' house, but still pretty loud. Enh, probably no big deal.
Exits: well, this is my house, so I can go wherever. Kitchen, bathroom, my bedroom, Val's room... well, not Val's room, or she will beat me. Then outside there's the front walk and the backyard.
Wayne long ago abandoned any personality of his own to become a miserable lapdog of Gordon, a sort of feeble court jester, constantly making up jokes and thinking of new ways to entertain his master. Gordon rewards this behaviour by ignoring Wayne anytime his rugby pals are around. Wayne seems to accept this treatment, as if it were part of the natural order of things, hoping that one day Gordon will accept him into his clique on an equal footing.
Wayne is an asshole, in other words.
The use of box quotes.
From the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him. -- II Samuel 14:25
You're not the man you were a few days ago. Your skin hangs as sallow drapes around your jaw: your hands are emaciated. Your frock billows about you; it is difficult to find any flesh within. The only solace you find in looking at yourself is that, so far, no signs of the plague are within you.
As you move your hand to open the word processor, you look briefly at the tattoo on the back of your hand.
Open. Chapter 3 of your dissertation awaits. You can do it!
"Tattoo" isn't right. You scrawled "TYVTWD" on the back of your hand before leaving this morning. It stands for Take Your Violet To Work Day. This is your plan: you are going to get through today by pretending I'm here with you.
Just so we're clear: you are actually alone, and presumably I am back at our apartment, packing and crying.
Somebody is coming up the stairs. I thought you said no one ever comes in on the weekend?