10-04-2018, 03:13 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-04-2018, 03:19 AM by Aiden Finnegan.)
What a BITCH, Aiden thought to himself. This Jaxen sure had a mouth on him.
Aiden’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline before he could help it, a half smirk crossing his lips. He had left America to escape the trolls, but here he was in the CCD, talking with the apparent king of them all. Almost instantly, the ethereal light sprung up behind his right shoulder followed by a thunderous clap overhead, drawing even more attention to them. The ‘invisible hands’ only manifested when Aiden’s emotions flared; he had thought that he had been rid of them after studying under Nox.
Realizing that he had lost control, Aiden started to hum to himself for a moment.
I bet you think this song is about you… Don’t you… Don’t you… Aiden sang in his head.
The light faded.
This mockery was nothing new, not after that dismal movie Aiden had stared in. He could deal with ridicule now, but airing it all in front of Sage was another matter… then again, Sage already knew more about Aiden than his own parents did; it paid to be a hacker, apparently. No. This Jaxen had played the stage quite well, and it appeared that he still held a theatrical paradigm in his social dealings.
All the world’s a stage…
Sage took it all in stride, so Aiden followed suit; although he gripped Sage’s side like it was the only thing supporting him in the world. With a breath, he tamed his face and spoke smoothly to their host, “Since you are so very well informed, Monsieur Marveet,” Aiden drew out the last few syllables, “You’ll know that those photographs and its story are almost ten years old now… About half as old as those vinyl pants you’ve painted on. You’re trying too hard, my dear. Are you going to be a cock to your guests or are we going to meet as civilized celebrities?”
Aiden winked at Jaxen with a sly smirk, “Tell me, Jaxen, have you ever heard of the Tuatha Dé Danann? They were the gods of the Celts before that whole Jesus thing… Your show tonight, and no doubt this meeting, reminds me of a poem about those very same Gods…”
Taking on a pompous air, Aiden recited the Lebor Gabála Érenn, a collection of poems and prose that purported to be a history of Ireland from the creation of the world to the Middle Ages, “It is God who suffered them, though He restrained them. They landed with horror, with lofty deed, in their cloud of mighty combat of specters upon a mountain…”
Aiden downed the last of the whiskey in his hand, “You’re no doubt skilled with the Ancient Power, Monsieur Marveet, why bother with political commentary when you can change the world?”
Aiden’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline before he could help it, a half smirk crossing his lips. He had left America to escape the trolls, but here he was in the CCD, talking with the apparent king of them all. Almost instantly, the ethereal light sprung up behind his right shoulder followed by a thunderous clap overhead, drawing even more attention to them. The ‘invisible hands’ only manifested when Aiden’s emotions flared; he had thought that he had been rid of them after studying under Nox.
Realizing that he had lost control, Aiden started to hum to himself for a moment.
I bet you think this song is about you… Don’t you… Don’t you… Aiden sang in his head.
The light faded.
This mockery was nothing new, not after that dismal movie Aiden had stared in. He could deal with ridicule now, but airing it all in front of Sage was another matter… then again, Sage already knew more about Aiden than his own parents did; it paid to be a hacker, apparently. No. This Jaxen had played the stage quite well, and it appeared that he still held a theatrical paradigm in his social dealings.
All the world’s a stage…
Sage took it all in stride, so Aiden followed suit; although he gripped Sage’s side like it was the only thing supporting him in the world. With a breath, he tamed his face and spoke smoothly to their host, “Since you are so very well informed, Monsieur Marveet,” Aiden drew out the last few syllables, “You’ll know that those photographs and its story are almost ten years old now… About half as old as those vinyl pants you’ve painted on. You’re trying too hard, my dear. Are you going to be a cock to your guests or are we going to meet as civilized celebrities?”
Aiden winked at Jaxen with a sly smirk, “Tell me, Jaxen, have you ever heard of the Tuatha Dé Danann? They were the gods of the Celts before that whole Jesus thing… Your show tonight, and no doubt this meeting, reminds me of a poem about those very same Gods…”
Taking on a pompous air, Aiden recited the Lebor Gabála Érenn, a collection of poems and prose that purported to be a history of Ireland from the creation of the world to the Middle Ages, “It is God who suffered them, though He restrained them. They landed with horror, with lofty deed, in their cloud of mighty combat of specters upon a mountain…”
Aiden downed the last of the whiskey in his hand, “You’re no doubt skilled with the Ancient Power, Monsieur Marveet, why bother with political commentary when you can change the world?”
Russian Dolls and Broken Gods, a new Fantasy novel by best-selling author, Aiden Finnegan, out this December! Preorder online and instore today!