Strange Coffee: 1

Think of this as an apology for my not posting yesterday.

The strange shapes an internal conversation can take

As the title suggests this story takes place in what one would first take to be your average Starbucks, or other equivalent. It has everything you would expect from oddly named coffees, to free wireless internet, and even impossibly priced pastries. No, what makes this place different are the clients. You see, all of them are products of my mind, either directly as a result of wanting a particular character created, or indirectly in the form of characters that have had dealings with these characters. As a result not all of them are mine, and most of them will remain silent.

One of these, a dark skinned slender woman, eyed me as I made my rounds. I could have told you her name, date of birth, major points in her life, and worst of all she knew I could. I could have done the same trick with most of the evening's crowd. Most knew this, and responded at their creator's preasence in a way I had come to expect, resolute and defiant refusal to acknowledge that I was any different than the rest of them. Not sure if this is a good thing or not, but so far everyone's acted civil.

Ahead I saw a bald headed man with a small forest of data chips sticking out the socket in his head in deep conversation with a brown and white furred animal-woman. When I neared they both turned backs to me, which caused something of a frustrated sigh from me. It seemed I was still in the metaphorical doghouse with those two. Can't say I blame them, but it's still cold.

Around another table I could see a green haired woman talking to two different men while a blue skinned slightly heavy-set woman listened. The green-haired lady looked to be a woman of taists, and she had a near frenzy about her as she launched into why this latest and greatest idea of hers would be the totally most awesome epic job they've ever done, and oddly enough her pitch sounded completely reasonable. The only reason, in fact, that I wasn't taken in was because I wasn't precisely real here, or they arn't precicely real to me... either way I suppose.. One of the men, a deeply tanned brown haired man wearing what looked to be a variation on a naval dress uniform, shook his head in disagreement. They'd need to call in too many favors to get intelligence on the place to move while they still had a window. He rubbed the lady's serpintine tail with one of his feet while he added some point about more pressing business back home she needed help for.

I'm not sure what it is about me and dimihumans, one would think green hair enough to make a girl exotic. Nooo gotta make her a lamia (think half woman half snake, sorta like how a mermaid is a half woman half sea critter) to boot. Actually she isn't mine, well... not entirely. Still, Shelly's shown a little more warmth to me than some of the rest of the motley crew I have. Maybe she's happy with the work I've put her to, but knowing Shelly I'd say she's just happy for the activity. Whatever I suppose.  Onward.

I note, while I move about the different tables, groupings, and such, that many of my more prominent characters have a mate of some sort. It isn't always a sexual partner, but in general each has a counterpart they can rely on either for help, a shoulder to lean on, or just conversation. I wonder what that says about me, given I made them. Hell, the whole place was a big damned metaphor. The bartender was one of my oldest, and least defined, characters. He'd served well back when I knew little of anything and thought twinking was the most awesome epic thing ever, so the poor guy hadn't seen much of anything in the past decade. Ah well. He passed me something fruit flavored with a slight sour note at the end.

"So. What do you make of all this mess?" His voice was silken soft. Remember, he came about back when I felt the soft spoken Bishi thing hadn't been run into the ground.

I shook my head while I kept looking at the crowd. "Can't tell. Still in mid-transition and I'm not sure how the cards will land this time. At first blush though I'd say Julian's got the best chance at seeing activity. After that I'd say Elizabeth, or even Darian. Kinda feel bad for Darian really. I brought him out and never really got to use him properly."

"Well, why not bring me back out into the field? You've had luck retooling old backgrounds into new material before." It could work I suppose, but for him it'd more or less take a complete sandblasting to remove everything but basic personality and general appearance, and even those were debatable given how long it'd been. "Don't give me that look. Blood and Ashes man, you haven't introduced me to anybody in the past decade, give or take, and I'm tired of being left behind."

"Whatever buddy. It's all up in the air right now and I'm not sure who gets spun out next or what roles they'll take. Be glad Edward's from a time where you'd stand out too much." I wasn't threatening, at least I hoped I wasn't. Don't like browbeating my little people, they have strange and subtle ways of getting back at me later when I could least afford it.

"Well, we're all here waiting to see which way you'll jump. Just make sure when you land it isn't on any of our heads. Hate to have to clean the emotional mess up. Always takes too long and more of a bother than anyone expects."

I grunted. "I'll keep that in mind."
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