Curiouser and curiouser...
Tuesday, 7:00, route 31
Divinity blinks at the headline of the newspaper, looks at the two people before her, and then stares back at the front picture. She purses her lips and goes through the motion again, murmuring under her breath about seeing triple and staying up too late.
From what she can see, the Ms. Talisman in the newspaper and the two ladies standing in front of Divinity are exceptionally similar. All of them share shining blonde locks with a gentle, natural curl, and they all wear the same style of heavy coats.
The only differences are height and the fact that Divinity recognizes the leopard print of the shorter woman’s clothes. Their faces are obscured by how they stand, so Divinity cannot pick out anything more precise. Sighing, she decides that her observations are pointless and flips to the business section, her paper scraping and rustling with each bump of the bus.
Most of the business section is also devoted to the Talismans. A picture of a sour, red-faced Mr. Talisman tops the first story, and the headline contrasts with his good deed of selling his land and donating the profits.
“I’d think,” Divinity murmurs, “that someone donating their fortune to charity would look a bit happier to do it.” She shrugs and turns the page. “Oh well. He is old.”
Divinity is skimming through a list of events, licking her lips and wondering which dates to commit to memory, when the bus stops again. She leans with the motion, more concerned about the times the school play will be shown than for the people seated on either side.
“Opening night is Friday, huh?” she says. “I should ask Willow to come with me. We can squeal about the lead actor and actress together.” Then, Divinity closes her newspaper and shakes it flat so she can read the comics, unaware that the bus has not resumed moving yet.
A small problem has confronted Rick, and he reaches for the radio on his dashboard while staring, slack-jawed, at the woman—or is it a man?—standing in the doorway. He can’t tell, for the person’s hood shadows their face, and their coat obscures any curves in the figure.
The person hisses, and Rick catches a gleam of somewhat long, pink teeth.
“Err, I can’t let you on if you don’t pay the fare or show me a bus pass,” Rick stutters. His hand lands on his radio.
The person stomps forward, and Rick glimpses pure white skin under the hood.
“Your laws mean nothing, human.” The voice is male and scratchy, and the man stumbles over the ‘th’ sound in ‘nothing.’
Gulping, Rick shrugs and pulls the lever to close the door. “Uh, okay then. Sure. Ride to your heart’s content.”
The door slides to a close, and Rick pushes on the gas, sending the hooded man crashing to the floor. Someone seated next to Divinity stands and offers their seat, and the passengers play a slow, sliding-tile game to get the man comfortable. Of course, Divinity does not notice; she is busy memorizing a pun about cats so that she can recite it later.
Uncomfortable chatter putters back to life in a few seconds, and Divinity vaguely notes a weight leaning on her right shoulder. As she reaches the bottom of the comic page, she glances over to find the hooded man.
“Sir? Or, uh Madame?” she asks. “Are you awake?”
The hooded man does not look up, but he does remove himself from Divinity’s shoulder. “One,” he says, “I am a Sir. Two, I demand your paper. Three—
Shoving her newspaper into the man’s hands, Divinity beams. “Sure thing, Sir. It’s a bus copy anyways, so it’s not even mine. Today’s comics are pretty good too, so I don’t advise skipping them.”
The force and flurry of paper makes the man splutter. As he cranes backwards to avoid a papercut to the face, his hood drops from his head, and Divinity’s grin widens in mischief.
She wasn’t actually sure what was underneath the man’s hood, but she huffs in pride and satisfaction when she finds out. The man shares his blonde hair, long and pulled back with a thin, black ribbon, with Ms. Talisman and the leopard print lady, and his jawline is as sharp as the canines he’s bared in surprise.
“You—
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Divinity shouts. She doesn’t miss the touch of smoke floating from the man’s ears. “The vigor of youth overtakes my judgement and restraint sometimes. I do beg your pardon, Sir.”
Harrumphing, the man grants his pardon and shakes out the newspaper, mumbling about children not behaving like they used to. Divinity only smirks and turns her face to look at the back of the bus, wishing Willow were there to see. The girl could stand to learn what interesting facts Divinity’s antics often unearth.
I am getting more and more confused as to where this whole thing will lead me.
And I don't know how to feel about that.
I. Impressions of the Shell Master!
1. Yeah, Divinity's back! And... so's the Leopard Lady. Who's Ms.Talisman. Who's... supposed to be dead.
...What. And there's a second one too, apparently. Huh. Sisters...?
2. So, Divinity's reactions to bizarre stuff around her are ALSO amazing, I'm not sure if I prefer hers or Rick's.
3. And speakin' of Rick's side... Well that's ONE WAY to deal with a mysterious hooded man. 10/10.
4. Pink teeth? White teeth? "Human"? Who the heck is this guy? *meanwhile, Divinity doing soemthin' totally unrelated in the corner* ← Still doin' a great job at handling that drama-killer narration of yours.
5. It really all feels like reality is trying to put fantasy back to its place with your characters. I feel like I'm reading a crossover of styles, which is strange - to me - but so interesting :O
II. Conclusion!
I really wish there was something else I could say in the "Shell Master's Room for Improvement" I've planned, but... I can't see to find anything.
Your story's unique, unexpected, your descriptions are clear enough for me to see what's happening...
...Well I guess one thing I might have to say is that this fantasy stuff happenning mixd with the normality of the setting does throw me off and I sometimes have to re-read a few bits to make sure I'm following well, but that's not really a complain, because the bus is basically the frontier where pretty much everything seem to happen. So... Yeah. I'm confused, but that's just because your story is THAT original.
Keep it up, and so shall I if I wanna catch up with YOU now that I'm done with Astral. *sigh* But for now, Muster Heroes' callin' me. See ya!
~Shell Master Tortwag~
I'm back again!
So, I'm supposed to write an introduction here, but everything I want to say actually belongs in the impressions. But hey, I have an introduction now, so let's get on with it! 
Notes
1. Each time you mention Ms Talisman, you say "Ms." with a full stop (period). In English, don't you place a full stop at the end of the abbreviation only if it doesn't end in the same letter as the original word? (If this is only the case in Afrikaans, I apologise.)
Impressions
1. Divinity is easily my favourite character thus far, if only because of her casual indifference to everyone else. I especially enjoy the parts where she simply continues reading her newspaper while all the drama unfurls.
2. A vampire - I knew it. I was hoping for a bipedal canine or feline, but since there are un-powerful people on the bus too, I suppose that would not be allowed. One can always hope.
3. I don't think the vampire deserves a comfortable seat - why is that vampires and elves are always so darn stuck-up? - but it was worth reading about the sliding-tile game metaphor. At least he got his when the acceleration made him bite the floor's dust. ^_^
4. And of course, Divinity is blissfully unaware of the "man's" true nature. He totally deserves having his ear singed though, making demands like he owns the bus. (He doesn't, in fact, own the bus, does he? Wait, it's public, what am I saying...?) I'd like to venture that I've never received a papercut before, so I don't realy know about what all the fuss is. Excuse that.
5. How exactly did children react in his time, since typical vampires don't age? For all we know, he could have been born in the Dark Ages, where illiteracy and pestilence was the order of the day.
Another amusing chapter I am pleased to have reviewed. Keep up with the excellent writing!
Hello, steampowered here for a review and to rescue your work from the Green Room! Like with the previous chapter of yours that I reviewed, I haven’t read the other instalments, so this is just a review of the chapter as a standalone piece. It might be quite a short review, since I don’t have all that much bad stuff to say about it, but I’ll try my best to leave you with some decent feedback.
Now, I obviously don’t know very much about Divinity, but I find it interesting that she’s constantly narrating what’s happening. She strikes me as being a very odd person, particularly since there are people sitting right next to her, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Then, Divinity closes her newspaper and shakes it flat so she can read the comics, unaware that the bus has not resumed moving yet.
Uncomfortable chatter putters back to life in a few seconds, and Divinity vaguely notes a weight leaning on her right shoulder. As she reaches the bottom of the comic page, she glances over to find the hooded man.
“The vigor of youth overtakes my judgement and refrain sometimes. I do beg your pardon, Sir.”
I'm sorry because I have nothing useful to say about this, but I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed it. ON TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT!
BlueAfrica
Woot!
I like this new man. He has the potential to become my favorite character, really. Anyone who enters with a whole 'foolish human' charade is usually a funny guy, villain or ally. I can't wait for him to be named.
I'm assuming that when a hood drops from a neck, it falls back. I need to read more books or something; can't even recognize alternate wording >_>As he cranes backwards to avoid a papercut to the face, his hood drops from his neck,
I'm a sucker for the small details, and something about this just strikes me. Probably because I steal lines from books all the time.Of course, Divinity does not notice; she is busy memorizing a pun about cats so that she can recite it later.
120,220 Literary Works • 649,152 Reviews
Points: 59
Reviews: 125
Donate