A day late, but who really gives a dinkly donger? (previous)
The woman shrugged. ‘Don’t know what you know.’
Asking her to just tell something wasn’t working. Mitchell needed to be more specific about what he wanted to get out of her. There was a lot of things he didn’t know though. ‘What’s the deal with the energy they store?’
‘Some vague question, but I’ll try.’ Finally some cooperation. ‘Gemite’s good at storing it, the things last longer when it flows regularly. Works well when you keep it with, trades some gemergy to and fro your body.’
She frowned as Mitchell interrupted her. ‘What for?’ he asked, and quickly clarified, ‘What does the body do with the energy?’
‘Does good, makes you feel healthier and all that.’ She scratched her nose, the finger slipped inside. ‘But it has other uses too. Back in the day folks used it in combat, the bursts can do some work.’ Something clicked in Mitchell’s mind.
‘Then…’ He doubted if he had heard enough move on already. ‘What about the gaping hole in the ceiling, back in that direction.’ He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.
‘Hmm?’ Mild confusion, probably caused by the hag being preoccupied with cleaning her finger. ‘Oh, that thing. Pretty great, some been saying it leads to the “surface”, whatever they mea-‘ Mitchell cut her short again.
‘The surface!?’ He took a moment to compose himself when he realized he had just shouted loudly. Passersby quickly went back to their own business. ‘The surface?’ This time in a more hushed tone. ‘How do I get up there?’
His informant was about to make what would probably be another snarly remark when a young man came out of the house behind her. ‘You don’t want that.’ He spoke in a very matter-of-factly manner, almost denigrating even.
Another short one, sorry. Feels like the character got lost in the writing. ie I wrote dialogue and such without much character. Oh well. (next)