#random of amber

[omie-wise]

“Chronicles of Amber” was published in 1970 which means dope-smoking LSD-dropping professional drummer and gad about town Random may very well have had Glam Rock Hair when he grabbed up (stole) a crossbow for a little light fratricide/regicide.

[myupostsheadcanons]

Chronicles of Amber (Great Book of Amber) Quotes, in no order:

People who work in slaughterhouses know that there is a spot on an animal’s forehead to be found by drawing an imaginary line from the right ear to the left eye and another from the left ear to the right eye. They aim the killing blow an inch or two above the junction of this X.  My uncle taught me that. He didn’t work in a slaughterhouse, though. He just liked to kill things.

- The Trumps of Doom

Random began to curse, a string of profanities unsurpassed by anything encountered in my long military career.

- The Hand of Oberon

“Announcement, everybody!” she cried, springing to her feet. “I have just noticed that this is not really Corwin! It has to be one of his shadows! It has just announced a belief in friendship, dignity, nobility of spirit, and those other things which figure prominently in popular romances! I am obviously onto something!”

- Sign of the Unicorn

Benedict would not have missed the eye. He would have had one in each pocket by then and be playing football with the head while composing a foot note to Clausewitz.

- Sign of the Unicorn

I had often said that I wanted to die in bed, what I really meant was that in my old age I wanted to be stepped on by an elephant while making love.

- The Guns of Avalon

My study was a more pleasant surprise. The big desk was covered with the litter and muss, but then it always had been. Lighting a cigarette, I went and sat behind it. I guess it was just too heavy and bulky for anyone to make off with it. My books were all on their shelves. Nobody steals books but your friends.

- The Guns of Avalon

I now harbored a suspicion I did not like but could not dispel. Not yet, anyway. What I had in mind was too dangerous, if I should prove correct.

So instead, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,” I said.

“What?” she asked. “I don’t understand...”

“I said, ‘It’s a fine day to be walking with a pretty lady.’“

She actually blushed.

Then, “What language did you say it in... the first time?”

“English.”

“I’ve never studied it. I told you that when we were talking about Alice [in Wonderland].”

“I know. Just being whimsical,” I answered.

- Sign of Chaos

Years ago, as an undergraduate, I had tried some LSD. It had scared me so badly that I’d never tried another hallucinogen since. It wasn’t simply a bad trip. The stuff had affected my shadow-shifting ability. It is kind of a truism that Amberites can visit any place they can imagine, for everything is out there, somewhere, in Shadow. But combining our minds with motion we can tune for the shadow we desire. Unfortunately, I could not control what I was imagining. Also unfortunately, I was transported to those places.

- Sign of Chaos

[dreamsandimagination]

Some Random/Vialle fanons:

When Random and Vialle hug, Random always pulls her up so they are the same height, and Vialle’s feet dangle above the ground. Oh, and he swirls her around whenever he was away for quite some time.

Random is a workaholic as king. Vialle literally drags him out of office whenever he’s staying up too late.

Random threatens death for anyone who dares to break or steal his drumsticks. The whole palace was once in panic when they were lost - Martin quickly provided new ones before Random found out.

Vialle loves to try and eat new food. In Rebma, you only have fish after all.

Vialle basically like your every Grandmother. She'll ask if you have had enough food and if you say "no" - oh you'll get some extra snacks with you to be sure!

Vialle is the only one to ever make Benedict laugh.

If you want a painful death, go and make fun of the Queen’s blindness. The very first fool was also the very last one to ever do that. Within an hour, the guy was found by Julian, beaten up by Caine and brought before a very pissed Random, who nearly skewered him alive had his wife not pleaded for mercy. 

[omie-wise]

They start getting closer.

They are separated.

They come together.

[omie-wise]

Sooner or later she comes on land.

[omie-wise]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65134276/chapters/198663166

…

There was nobody outside but some fish, small silver ones unspooling in the air like pigeons. They glittered in the ambient light before darting into various dark crevices and holes, hiding their fires. A shadow passed over us and I looked up to see the underside of something vast moving away from the direction we were headed. There was no reeling involved, no drunk delight, instead a steady ground-eating (water-eating?) retreat from our destination.

I kept my reservations to myself.

…

[omie-wise]

Snippet from an upcoming chapter of “A Song for Vialle.” You can find the first chapter here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/65134276/chapters/167520175

Note that Random is canonically a psychopathic asshole at this point.

In the books Vialle is a sculptor but clay doesn’t really work underwater so she weaves baskets and things out of reeds, graceful sinuous things people love. She’s teaching Random to make chainmail to keep his hands busy because you can’t really drum (or smoke) underwater.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65134276/chapters/167520175

Vialle was wearing a sort of vest that laced up the front, and up the seams along the sides under her arms. I could see a strip of her stomach between the bottom of it and the waistband of her trunks, and the small lithe muscles that slid beneath the smooth skin of her bare arms as she plaited reeds to weave into a basket of whatever she was working on.

“Why aren’t your tits out?”

I was perhaps cruder than I might have been but sitting still was a trial and I needed a distraction. My lack of skill as I closed metal loops on each other was also a trial.

“Should they be?”

Her hands kept working at the same rate, almost mechanically, skill born of hundreds of hours of experience. Her head was slightly cocked to the side.

“I mean, just about everyone here goes around tits out but you keep yours under wraps. Are you hiding something?”

This was the sort of thing that sent Flora up the wall, leading to me dodging various sometimes-sharp projectiles.

“Ah. Well, most men here are relatively flat chested as I understand it, prows not extending past their chins. Neither they nor the other women here are at great risk of running chest-first into things, spilling things down their fronts, or scraping their nipples on something.”

I winced at the “scraping” comment. I couldn’t imagine her spilling or running into anything.

“I feel safer when a very tender part of my anatomy is kept protected from various elements.

A small smile, wry, flicked across her face. It slipped away just as fast.

“You, I assume, are wearing some sort of garment on your lower half? Loins girded? Not flopping about carelessly?”

My hands stilled and I watched her. She had deftly turned my impertinent question aside, riposted with her own. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her discussing my loins. I laughed, though, at the ridiculous conversation and also because dick jokes are funny.

“You have a lovely laugh.”

She tossed it off so casually, that small mocking comment. I tensed, shoulders and jaw alike, mouth tightening. Her hands kept moving, plaiting reeds together. I waited for more, for a follow up dismissive comment about my buffoonery, my clownish nature. She reached out and patted the table next to her until she found her bundle of reeds. She pulled one loose and plaited it into the long line of reeds.

I flexed my hand holding the small pliers. It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t even tired. But I couldn’t focus on the task at hand - the time wasting busy work she’d set me to. I tossed the pliers in the basket with the other material and it was heavy enough it sank neatly into the basket instead of drifting about. I stood.

“I’m going for a walk” I said, and I did.

[omie-wise]

Can’t remember if I shared this or not.