The story so far....
All comics were made using DAZStudio and ComicLife. For a full list of credits, click here.
Clea: The Feuerborn girl and I have met, though it's been years. We no longer move in the same circles. I can't say I miss them.
Lena: Then definitely stay away. She'll drag you into them kicking and screaming and underdressed and -- saints.
Clea: In over your head, love?
Lena: I didn't ask for this, okay? I'm not a social climber, I don't want to be rich -- well, I do, but I think rick means buying clothes from the store instead of a fillpicker truck! I don't know who these people are or what they're talking about or hor to act or how to dress or, or even how to change my stupid dress. Why does she keep bringing me to places everyone but Kris knows I don't belong?
Clea: On most of that you're well and truly fucked, but the dress --
Lena: Leave it alone. I don't have wetware.
Clea: Nor do I. I don't know what Vic's been putting about, but we haven't the blue blood to fill a thimble. Good lord, you are a bit backwards, aren't you? Even the earrings are static -- ah, there we are. Pressing the shoulder seam brings up manual control. The wrist seam hides it. And the rest you'll be able to work out for yourself, I'd reckon.
Lena: ... thank you.
Clea: De rien, as they would say in your part of town. Don't mention it. ... Lena, was it? Tell me, Lena, have you ever heard of honeyball?
Lena: I'm going to assume this isn't a children's game.
Clea: Depends on your definitions. Here's how you play: you build a lovely golden project proposal, something that looks really good on a politician's resume. Then you send it bouncing through committees collecting grant money and cushy government contracts for you to hand out. And since everyone's got a cousin or a lover or a friend's friend, that gives you even more committees to bounce through, with a little honey sticking to each hand... until somebody misses the catch. Then it's all about who doesn't scatter before it hits the ground. Which fool will be the one standing there with nothing done, nothing built, no explanation for where the money went, nothing but a dirty, sticky ball of trouble.
Lena: This is about Kris's internship, isn't it? You heard all that from up there? You must have ears like a bat.
Clea: Weston Purdue has a genius for getting plans funded. He's good enough, so far, that it's not generally noticed how none of 'em finish. And Kris Feurborn will always land on her feet. Training, instinct, blood, luck -- she's controlling shares on the lot, eh? But you.... You watch yourself, love. Despite what Vic might think, dear West's luck is about due to run out. Don't you be the one left standing when it all hits the ground.
Lena: Then definitely stay away. She'll drag you into them kicking and screaming and underdressed and -- saints.
Clea: In over your head, love?
Lena: I didn't ask for this, okay? I'm not a social climber, I don't want to be rich -- well, I do, but I think rick means buying clothes from the store instead of a fillpicker truck! I don't know who these people are or what they're talking about or hor to act or how to dress or, or even how to change my stupid dress. Why does she keep bringing me to places everyone but Kris knows I don't belong?
Clea: On most of that you're well and truly fucked, but the dress --
Lena: Leave it alone. I don't have wetware.
Clea: Nor do I. I don't know what Vic's been putting about, but we haven't the blue blood to fill a thimble. Good lord, you are a bit backwards, aren't you? Even the earrings are static -- ah, there we are. Pressing the shoulder seam brings up manual control. The wrist seam hides it. And the rest you'll be able to work out for yourself, I'd reckon.
Lena: ... thank you.
Clea: De rien, as they would say in your part of town. Don't mention it. ... Lena, was it? Tell me, Lena, have you ever heard of honeyball?
Lena: I'm going to assume this isn't a children's game.
Clea: Depends on your definitions. Here's how you play: you build a lovely golden project proposal, something that looks really good on a politician's resume. Then you send it bouncing through committees collecting grant money and cushy government contracts for you to hand out. And since everyone's got a cousin or a lover or a friend's friend, that gives you even more committees to bounce through, with a little honey sticking to each hand... until somebody misses the catch. Then it's all about who doesn't scatter before it hits the ground. Which fool will be the one standing there with nothing done, nothing built, no explanation for where the money went, nothing but a dirty, sticky ball of trouble.
Lena: This is about Kris's internship, isn't it? You heard all that from up there? You must have ears like a bat.
Clea: Weston Purdue has a genius for getting plans funded. He's good enough, so far, that it's not generally noticed how none of 'em finish. And Kris Feurborn will always land on her feet. Training, instinct, blood, luck -- she's controlling shares on the lot, eh? But you.... You watch yourself, love. Despite what Vic might think, dear West's luck is about due to run out. Don't you be the one left standing when it all hits the ground.
When last we saw... Lena
May 6, 2013
So yeah. This is my embarrassed face.
Short version: I genuinely cannot say when I'll be able to get back on schedule, but I'll try to make it soon.
Longer version: some of you may remember me mentioning my grandmother broke her hip just before Christmas. She was ninety and pretty frail, it ended up being the straw that broke the camel's back, she went into a cycle of deteriorating health that only ended when she died in mid-February. Which was at that point one of the better outcomes, but I've lived next to my grandparents since I was fifteen and I work for my parents. There wasn't a lot of my life that didn't get run through the meat grinder by this. Basically, I went to a Bad Place somewhere in late January and it's taken me a while to come out.
The good news is that I am breaking out of it, and y'all didn't see much of a hitch in service during that time because one of my tried-and-true methods for dealing when I'm in a Bad Place is to retreat into fantasyland, which in this case meant the comic. The bad news is that I let a bunch of other stuff spin out of control while I was in the Bad Place and now that I'm emerging I've kinda got a lot of shit to deal with. None of it's major, which is even more frustrating, really, because I keep underestimating the time it's going to take. It's like I'm playing a game of Whack-a-Mole with the Hydra, and every time I smack down a head labeled Housework or Filemaker Project Bugs or That Expensive Consultant You Were Supposed To Prep For two more pop up just as big, and that useless bugger I sent to look for a firebrand has stopped in at Starbucks for some pastries and a cuppa.
I'm also doing that thing run-down people do and getting sick, which is why the comic didn't happen on Friday, and the weather's not helping, and I let myself get short on scripts, and -- yeah. It is really hard for me to predict when I'll get things on track again.
I'm sorry, guys. I can't even say how this one snuck up on me, but it did. I will do my best, I swear.
May 6, 2013
So yeah. This is my embarrassed face.
Short version: I genuinely cannot say when I'll be able to get back on schedule, but I'll try to make it soon.
Longer version: some of you may remember me mentioning my grandmother broke her hip just before Christmas. She was ninety and pretty frail, it ended up being the straw that broke the camel's back, she went into a cycle of deteriorating health that only ended when she died in mid-February. Which was at that point one of the better outcomes, but I've lived next to my grandparents since I was fifteen and I work for my parents. There wasn't a lot of my life that didn't get run through the meat grinder by this. Basically, I went to a Bad Place somewhere in late January and it's taken me a while to come out.
The good news is that I am breaking out of it, and y'all didn't see much of a hitch in service during that time because one of my tried-and-true methods for dealing when I'm in a Bad Place is to retreat into fantasyland, which in this case meant the comic. The bad news is that I let a bunch of other stuff spin out of control while I was in the Bad Place and now that I'm emerging I've kinda got a lot of shit to deal with. None of it's major, which is even more frustrating, really, because I keep underestimating the time it's going to take. It's like I'm playing a game of Whack-a-Mole with the Hydra, and every time I smack down a head labeled Housework or Filemaker Project Bugs or That Expensive Consultant You Were Supposed To Prep For two more pop up just as big, and that useless bugger I sent to look for a firebrand has stopped in at Starbucks for some pastries and a cuppa.
I'm also doing that thing run-down people do and getting sick, which is why the comic didn't happen on Friday, and the weather's not helping, and I let myself get short on scripts, and -- yeah. It is really hard for me to predict when I'll get things on track again.
I'm sorry, guys. I can't even say how this one snuck up on me, but it did. I will do my best, I swear.
Dill is the last of his line, an angel forbidden to fly. Rachel is half an assassin. Both serve the Chained God -- but is the church all that it seems?
