Occams Razor

Early morning, cold and clear. The lake remains unmoved by the warmer air and stubbornly retains her ice. The shore is quiet and empty except for one guy who looks like he belongs. Ballcap & fishing vest on Brett walks the shore, reading the abstracts to fishing in the state. Awaiting his license and the ice-out to begin a moment of tranquility is at least enjoyed. A tease of things to come that are simple, good, and wholesome.

Brett tosses a medium sized rock out onto the ice watching it slide across the top coming to rest a few dozens yards ahaead, a hot cup of coffee in the other hand steams as he sighs.

"Way too thick, it'll be a while before we're anywhere near open water..."

Something stirred in the woods near the edge of the lake, something that turned out to be Alice rising from where she'd settled herself, finding a non-snowy patch. She had a book in her hands, but it was slid into the pocket of her oversized jacket before the title could be read. One hand drifted near her gun, but that seemed to be more reflex than threat. Her baseball bat was on the ground where she had been sitting.

She didn't speak, just made her presence known, watching Brett wordlessly.

The funny thing about paranoid people is they always assume they're being watched. Brett was in the business long enough to know he actually was, but didn't seem to be worried all that much. Another rock sailed through the sky as gracefully as a rock can before skimming aross the ice.

"We survived the weekend, that's a good start i'd say after everything thus far..."

She considered his action, reaching down to scoop a stone from the snow, turning it over in her fingers. She flung it out over the ice to watch it bounce, letting her eyes linger on the horizon.

"It is certainly a start," she looked over. "I'm not sure I would call this weekend a good start, but it is a start. I admit to being concerned to seeing how it ends, in the very unlikely chance I last that long." And then out towards the horizon.

"Lasting long? Pfffft, We got people coming back from the brink of death all the time down here, if at first you don't succeed; try, try again!"

He takes up another rock, holding it in his palm, looking to Alice trying to think of something poignant to say at a time like this. Some way to make it all right because well, he needed to hear it too.

"Rocks last a long time, but most of it is spent sitting and doing nothing as the world goes by. But, if they have spirits like some of the shamanfolk say, I bet they'd trade a million years of it to go walk around, or to go beat up some hill belligerents for a little while.

We... only get x amount of time to do what we do, fufill our goals or miss them. It's not about thinking you only have so much time, but more about the Good you'll do with it. I guess...

The rock sails out into the lake, again skimming across the ice like the others before it.

"Damn, that would have gone way better if it fell through just now! My motivational speaking needs almost as much work as my throwing arm."

She listened, standing quietly sentinel while her hands dipped into her pockets and the wind toyed with her hair.

"Do you believe in fate?" she asked quietly, pulling out a small knife, balanced for throwing, and twisting it over her fingers.

Brett stopped at the word, his demeanor darkened just a little and the rock this time remained in hand.

Fate? Fate is an excuse. Its a copout on the universal level where zealots, villains, and teenage romance movies try to legitimize their life.

Its bullshit! He calms down realizing he's making a scene and collects himself...

I cannot imagine that all of the horrible things in this world are by design. People make choices, choices with consequences that they don't want to live with. So they call it fate

There's a reason it's a four letter word.

His sudden shift in demeanor evokes an immediate response from the girl, who jumped in alarm, twisting the knife into her palm while another appeared in the other hand. She twisted towards him, the knife raised reflexively. But it didn't fly. She forced herself to calm, shying from his harsh opinions with her teeth all but barred. She turned and let the knife fly into a tree a few paces away. And then she walked to collect it.

"What you say isn't actually mutually exclusive to Fate existing in this world," she countered. "Just that its application is often applied in places it shouldn't be. People who want to justify their existence or their choices or all of the things that have happened to them."

"But does that mean that nothing is ever Pre-Ordained? That nothing is ever set in stone, some things must come to pass?" she studied him quizzically, twirling the knife over her fingers.

::Heavy footfalls announce the arrival of another to the shore of the frozen lake. He stops once he gets close and leaning against a tree he offers a greeting by way of a smile.::

"Fate huh? Well that is a sticky subject to be sure. In most cases just a series of unfortunate events."

::A soft chuckle to himself as he flexes his hands, scars whitening as he makes a fist, then fading as he opens his hand again.::

Madrigus also approaches the lakeside, materializing from out of the woods behind Alice almost noiselessly. He had been looking for some quiet time to reflect while looking at the still-frozen lake, but conversation was also welcome, and he had made it into earshot at Alice's last question and Brett's harsh response.

"I apologize for overhearing your conversation, but I feel I must interject," the demon rumbled, announcing his presence. "Most people misunderstand what Fate is. What people assume is what you said, Brett. They blame their actions on Fate, feeling that to do so would be to not take responsibility for the fact that, in truth, they make bad decisions. And you," he nods to TJ, "Couldn't be further from the truth.

"Fate is neither a series of unfortunate events, nor is it an excuse, or even a reason why one must do something. True Fate is merely a story of what will come. It is not predetermined per se, rather, there are those that may read what will happen regardless of the actions that will be taken. One who commits evil because they feel they are Fated to are indeed 'Fated' to commit evil. Yet one who commits good rather than evil because they feel that they must change their Fate are truly Fated for good.

"In essence, one who can read 'Fate' is merely reading the 'Future that Will Be.' As such, Fate is the effect, whether or not the cause has happened yet. You, Brett, I thought would know better."