(no subject)

[sealie]

still computer quarantined -- stayed late after work to write this bit of JBDE. *snarl* probably looking at a reformat and reinstallation of the hard drive on my laptop. I... you know the amount of bad karma these virus/trojan guys (or gals) get and effected people thinking *really* nasty things at them, you’d think that they would have problems getting out of bed in the morning... surely flaming meteorites must be dogging their every footstep, not to mention black cats, runaway SUVs...

sealie wrote:

“Toast for breakfast. No eggs? Bacon? Maple syrup.” Jim poked the piece of thinly sliced brown bread.
“Count yourself lucky we’ve got toast – we meant to go to the supermarket last night, but plans changed, didn’t they?” Blair said pointedly.
“We’ve got to go to supermarket – asap,” Jim said ignoring the unspoken question. “They do have supermarkets here, don’t they?”
“It’s England not the Third World – of course they’ve got supermarkets,” Blair said acidly. “Actually, I noticed road signs to a market when we were at the Keep. We’ll go there see if we can get any fresh, organic fruit and veg. Eat your toast – you need something on your stomach,.”
“Yes, mom.”
Blair glowered and the fight was on. Toast and coffee at five o’clock approaching rapidly.
Blair’s finger stabbed the air as he spoke. “So shoot me for being concerned. This is more than jetlag, do you want to tell me what the hell is happening?”
not particularly, no
“You saw something in the keep, didn’t you?”
yeah, floating orbs
“But it was more than once. There was something freakin’ you out in the Great Hall. But in the catacombs it was more,” Blair hunted for a word, “present? Yeah, present.”
I went on a trip. Without the help of pharmaceuticals.
“So what happened? Jiiiiiiiim?”
Jim shrugged.
“And last night? What the hell happened last night?”
I…don’t actually know where to begin…
“Oh, Jim,” Blair said sympathetically. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Jim launched into what he had seen.

~*~

Blair slumped back in his seat, mouth opening and closing without sound as he mentally started to say something, decided against it, thought of something else, changed his mind and then repeated the whole process over again.
“Ah!” he brightened. “Mr. Coates saw them as well, you’re not nuts. Not that I ever thought you were, but you were thinking it. So now you know you’re not.”
Jim held up his hand.
“Orbs?” Blair continued ignoring him. “Wow, an electromagnetic phenomenon? You probably can see further in the light spectrum. But orbs, I remember Naomi saying that they were paranormal phenomena. “
“You mean ghosts,” Jim grated.
Blair shrugged massively his entire body engaged in the motion. “Could be. But I’m more interested in the psychometry.”
“The what?”
“The ability to read the history of certain objects by holding or touching the object,” Blair defined, he leaned forward across the kitchen table. “Have you done this before?”
“Hallucinated…”
“Had a vision,” Blair interrupted.
“After touching something?” Jim clarified.
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Blair probed.
“I think that I would remember, Chief.”
“Oh, so speaks Mr. Memory.” He grinned cheesily as Jim glowered at him. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. I don’t know why it’s happening now. Maybe there’s more ghosts per capita in Good Ol’ England, or maybe you’re only responsive to really old ghosts, they’ve gotta be like hundreds of years old or maybe they have to be sentinel related ghosts. But we’ve gotta go with this. I wonder how the dream thing worked? It wasn’t like you were touching anything. Maybe you’re just switched on, man. You’ve moved up another level in the sentinel thing?”
Jim now leaned across the table until their noses were almost touching. “So, Darwin, How. Do. We. Switch. It. Off!”