Things were slow today! I’m very late in finishing it up, but I think I did okay. To clarify something, Finnraal has Dissociative Identity Disorder! That term doesn’t necessarily exist in Muunfel, though, nor does some of the understanding we have of it in the real world. I’ve been working on the character for a while, though I want to preface this by saying I still have a lot more research to do on how to depict DID in a fantasy setting. These excerpts are meant as WIPs only; once I’ve had some sensitivity readers for the story, it should be a lot more solid!
Word Count: 8733
The world above was an uncomfortable sort of thing. Everything, everyone felt like a charade of sorts, like the settings and actors of a play. Riddle didn’t trust them, and he didn’t think the others should trust them on principle, either. Maybe it was because he made a point of knowing the least trustworthy people he could find when he was out front.
Information was one of the most important commodities he could possibly gather. More than money, more than spare parts from the shops, maybe even more than food. Information paid like the most sparkling diamonds, if one knew how to spin it. Riddle was good at collecting it. Finnraal and Kala were good at turning it into something else.
His contacts never stayed in the same place for long, but they always left signs for those who knew how to look. Signs leading to their latest nest would be found in the alleys and back roads of the bustling city.
Riddle hadn’t gone to them in some time. He almost worried he had lost his edge with finding the signs, but he noticed a series of notches carved into a signpost. Progress at last. Is anyone watching?
Yes, good job, Finnraal thought drily from within. This is literally why you’re the one in front right now.
“You want my help and this is how you repay it,” Riddle muttered. He snickered as a general sense of disapproval surged out of his audience, and didn’t pay it much mind. He could have fun in the real world, even if no one else appreciated his ways.