Author's Note:
so.... i got sick up reposting old tpi. i really miss writing it, so i'm just going to jump in and start again, after over a year. here is a brand new shiny preface, the old foreword, and the next post will continue the tale of plaid, who when we left her was in the middle of a dark cave somewhere.

Preface
I began this story in november of 2003. almost three years ago. it keeps me company. it has a few loving fans. here, have a plot synopsis:

for your further (or previous) enjoyment: all the beginning bits of The Plaid Identity


Forward

I. The following is just [a continuation of] one of those board fics. Please don't resent me for any questionable portrayals of you as a character. it's all in the name of fun. And also for the sake of my creativity, which needs all the fresh air and exercise it can get.

II. I do write this in a fairly spontaneous way, but keep in mind that continual revision is going on. I can't help it. I read things over again and decide they should be worded differently. Nothing major will be changed, but as a warning I just have to say that this story is alive and sometimes small bits move around.

III. A fitting quote about my archetypal setting:

Peter Acroyd, in English Music~
and now, let the new stuff begin....

joe pancake?

no fighting yet

Suddenly a voice yelled from where the light burned out ahead of us.

'Joyce! Joyce!'

'I knew it,' Buzzfloyd said. 'Brad, come on.' She ran away holding the torch and I was left standing next to Jordan in the dark.

'Do you know what's going on, Jordan?'

The lights out in front of us weren't betraying any clues.

'Nope. Who's Joyce?'

Somebody yelled 'At last! At last!' and seemed very excited about it. Then it all went quiet, except for weird echoey whispers.

'No idea. I--'

'They're leaving.'

'Leaving?' They were. At least I thought I could see the torches moving further from us. I reached out and tried to feel where Jordan was standing.

'Hey!'

'Shut up, Jordan, I just wanted to make sure you were there.'

He grunted at me.

'Have they forgotten us then?'

There was a pause.

'YAR, BRAD, ARE YOU JUST GONNA LEAVE US 'ERE, EH? WE DON'T GOT ANY LIGHT!'

The only response to Jordan's outburst was a lot of confused echoing.

'We just gonna stand 'ere, then?' he said to me.

I thought about this for a minute. 'Hm. Yes.'

I could hear him fidgeting, kicking loose rocks and shuffling about.

'We ain't gonna find out what's goin on from 'ere. Let's go.' And he started off, in the pitch black. Within three steps I was chasing nervously after him.

The lights ahead had stopped, but it still took us what seemed like a long time to reach them. I saw Brad and wanted to kick him. Jordan sidled up to Buzzfloyd and offered to take the torch from her no doubt tired left hand. She and Brad had found an old woman, who was sitting on a rock and stroking an invisible pet.

joe pancake?

Pfft. The truth is, Plaid just couldn't resist.

Mm, new TPI.

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes

will you just propose to her, already, muffin boy?

"If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights, I'd shoot my self."

So you can continue naming yourself Matchmaker Supreme? No.

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes

G'wan, g'wan, g'wan, g'wan, g'wan.

Dragon's Kingdom - Stop typing "alot" when you mean "a lot"! - Disappointed

nobody was saying anything.

Not even the old woman spoke. Not even an absent-minded mutter. Finally i whispered 'Who is she?'

Before anyone could answer the old woman's gaze snapped up and pierced me through darkly. I started, but after just a second I could tell that she meant no malice by it. Her eyes were sadly blank, as if loneliness itself had settled in and draped itself all over the furniture.

Still nobody said anything. The woman turned her eyes back to the floor and continued stroking whatever it was she was stroking. I stared at her with the others, Brad and Buzzfloyd and Jordan and two other women I didn't know. In the silence i took in here few wisps of white hair, her pink and wrinkled hands, and the surprisingly fine skirts that gathered around her as she sat on a rock. She wasn't wearing any shoes.

'Is it really you, Joyce?' Buzzfloyd asked. 'Is it really her?' she turned to one of the other two.

Brad stepped closer to the woman and stretched his neck up as far as he could.

'Joyce Ogg, how long have you been here?'

Joyce, if that was she, looked at the llama, reached out, and started stroking his head and ears. Brad shivered for a moment but stayed still, letting her pet him. Still she said not a word.

Buzzfloyd looked up, took the torch back from Jordan, and turned to the two strangers. 'How did you find her?'

The younger one answered, 'Hsing did. I don't know how she saw much of anything in all these shadows. I wouldn't've recognized it.'

Buzzfloyd seemed impressed, and I wondered why. What was so important about the old woman?

'It's incredible,' Buzzfloyd whispered. I was about to say 'What is?' when she continued: 'We thought she'd died out here.'

'Who?' I got my chance to ask a question after all.

'Her, stupid,' Jordan blurted. I resisted the temptation to stick my tongue out at him and settled for looking intently curious at Buzzfloyd.

'Joyce was... oh, how do I explain? Brad, tell them. Or you Hsing. You obviously know more than I do.'

Hsing looked hesitant.

joe pancake?

'Wow. Well. Joyce ... that is Joyce. I know she won't answer but I just know it's her. Joyce is legend. Joyce is.. wow. I don't know what else to say. That she survived this long without anyone knowing, without anyone hearing her or finding her... it's unthinkable.'

This answer, such as it was, did not satisfy me. But I couldn't think of anything else to ask.

'What you going to do with 'er?' Jordan said.

Nobody answered him. The woman cracked her neck, continuing to pet Brad the wonder llama.

'She won't speak,' Hsing said. 'I didn't think she would.'

'Why not?'

joe pancake?

Cat got her tongue? Literally?
Voicebox imploded?
Monk vow of silence?
Brain damage causing loss of speech?
Just plain rude?

Why isn't Joyce speaking, tell us Plaid, tell ussssssssssssssssssssss!

(Playing blind Pictionary, me drawing)
Ella: Is it a giraffe?
Me (stops drawing): No
Ella: Star Trek?
Me: Yes!

More!

"Hoher Sinn liegt oft im kindischen Spiel." (Friedrich Schiller)

More!

sweet. a legend returns. the meandering tale that is the Plaid ID. one of my favourites from the old board.

keep it going plaid, it's as good as it ever was.

What the monkey said!!

Fuck Shoes.

More, please

here we go.

Hsing did her best to explain her theories in words. 'Well, the legend says her voice was taken... or given to... or sacrificed ...or sort of absorbed or something... by the Garner. I tried to understand why... Sam told me the...'

She trailed off. 'The volcano?' I wondered aloud. I looked at Jordan and at Buzzfloyd standing next to him. The volcano doesn't talk, does he? why would he need this old woman's voice?

Brad pulled away at last from Joyce's affectionate hands. 'We came for dragonmother. Let's not get tied up in some other island legend.'

Hsing seemed startled. 'We can't just leave her all alone in the dark.'

'That's where we found her, isn't it?'

A pause communicated the, yeah, i guess so, that nobody wanted to say.

'Come on,' Brad urged. He nudged Buzzfloyd's leg and followed her as she walked ahead with the torch. Hsing waited. She went to Joyce, took the woman's hand, and succeeded in leading her along. As we all trailed after Buzzfloyd and the llama, I could hear Hsing mumbling encouragement.

We walked through cave after cave; it was quite some time before Brad asked Buzzfloyd if she was sure she remembered where they'd left the captive Dragonmother.

joe pancake?