Sunday snippet: Vulture's Roost

Enough wallowing. Time to get back to work. So here's a little bit of a scene from the novel I'm revising. The Shadowsouled necromancer, Vaeth, finds herself on the plane where her ancestors dwell. The keeper of the Hall of Bitter Wisdom, Sagesse, has advice for her:

            Sagesse turned and gave Vaeth a shake. “I have something for you. It’s called wisdom.  And generations of wisdom suggests you’ll have a far happier life if you walk away from the fight. Typhon won. He may not deserve to, but there it is. Let it go. Find a nice, quiet backwater, marry a nice man with lots of muscles, have babies. Write it all down, so I can pass on your good advice to whatever fool next arrives on my doorstep.”

            “I can’t do that!”

            “Of course not.  If mortals were sensible, I wouldn’t have any stories.” Sagesse smiled, a little sadly, and patted Vaeth’s shoulder. “So I’ll send you back to the world, and you’ll do what you feel is necessary. There’s no shame in it.”

            Vaeth gusted a sigh. “Then help me.”

Of course, the assistance of the ancestors is never what you'd hope it would be. (I love Sagesse. She's such an ornery horder of an ancestor.)