tabtab With a grumble, Maddox checked the alarm on his phone and sat on the creaking springs of his mattress. Ugh. This late already? He slipped the phone onto his bedside table and flopped backwards. Despite his weary state, sleeping was one of the last things he felt like doing.
tabtab The quiet of his small town didn't always drive him crazy. He could usually hold off the need for company or entertainment until the weekend, or at least until a friend had free time to kill with him. Tonight, though, the silence felt like a heavy weight on his eardrums. This week had been nothing but his dead apartment and work: rinse and repeat. More than usual, it was grinding like a millstone on his nerves, only heightened by a lecture he'd received today from his downstairs neighbor. Apparently Maddox wasn't supposed to walk to the bathroom after ten PM, or turn on music to sleep. He didn't remember what he'd said in response. “******** off,” might have been part of it. If he didn't have work tomorrow, he'd just blast his music tonight and stomp around until the man beneath him screamed, or called the cops. But he had been given the inglorious task of morning duty: getting lights on and everything set up in the repair shop before customers popped in with their cars. He had to be there by seven for that, and his dad was in a worse mood than usual this week. Showing up late or calling off would set off a storm of legendary proportions.
tabtab “Maybe I'll just get my a** to sleep instead."
tabtab He fumbled for his phone again to tap on his music mix, scowled at the floor, and turned the volume a hair louder than normal. His thoughts wandered as he waited cross-armed for rest to find him. Even when the work week finally ended, what was there to do? Most of his friends had bailed. One was going on some mini vacation with his girlfriend. Another was visiting in-laws with his wife. Several of the others were going out, but with their own girlfriends, fiancees, or whatever. He didn't feel like being the only solo one in the party. It seemed everyone was pairing off like a cheesy rom-com, while he did little more in his love live than hanging out at the bar, hoping to get some girl's attention. Maybe he should get one of those dating apps and try to actually meet new people. Come to think of it, the only single people he knew were the ones who weren't supposed to be, not according to town legend. Ohhh, Great. He'd pick now of all times to think of that old childhood wish to the tree. It soured his mood more. He'd been stupider than usual to add his name on that oak and actually hope it would work. Oh mighty tree of love, if you can't find love for me in this world, then find it in another. He huffed. “Yeah, right.” It was just a collective lie, of course, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. It had to be. The moment one of them in the group got hitched, they'd probably be clued into the trick like every other couple in town. If the tree had any power at all, it would've matched up at least a couple of them years ago. So much for fantasy thoughts like true love. At least it made a good reality check in the end. He rolled over and finally drifted off.
tabtab Maddox awoke after a restless sleep, buried under the covers. A groggy, ill sensation settled on him. A pressure headache throbbed in his forehead. At one point, the pain even felt like someone poking him. Wriggling a little to stretch, his gut twisted, and he winced. Was he coming down with a flu? He didn't need that; he had work. Work. Work! Sunlight filtered on the exposed parts of his eyelids. His alarm was supposed to go off at five-thirty. What time was it?! One hand escaped from the covers, aiming instinctively for his phone.
tabtab Something interrupted his palm mid-reach. It was definitely not his bedside table: too soft. A pillow? No, if he'd shoved a pillow over, it would've ended up on the floor...and why did it feel like it was moving? Bleary eyes cracked open. His phone-seeking hand had landed somewhere on a woman's ribcage, just under her bust. After an initial jump of shock, he yanked his hand back and rubbed the sleep from his face. “Muta? Jeez, you really need to text me when you're going to pop over like this. At least overnight. Can you hand me my phone?” He glanced up. The eyes staring back at him were not Muta's.
tabtab “Holy s**t!”Maddox shoved himself defensively away. Too far. Half the bedsheets followed as he tumbled over the side of the mattress, landing with a grunt on his shoulder. He detangled his legs with two strong kicks and stood, muscles tensed, in his boxers and undershirt. Springing to his feet sent a lurch down his stomach, and he repressed the urge to get sick. “Who the—what the hell are you doing here?!” His bare feet picked up that they were planted on a firm, cold floor, not his own beige carpet. He took a couple seconds to catch his breath, eyes darting around. This place looked gigantic. “This, this isn't my room. This isn't even my apartment. Where am I?! Did we--?” He squinted at the stranger. Was this another bar hookup of his? No. Couldn't be. She was pretty, probably more so than most girls in the land of beer goggles, but he stayed home last night. That was the whole reason for his mood before bed. No matter how blackout drunk he'd ever been, it'd never been bad enough to forget going out at all. “Okay, who put you up to this? The guys at the shop? They think this is funny? You've got thirty seconds to get me a phone and tell me why the hell I'm here.” What he'd do after those thirty seconds, he hadn't thought about yet.
tabtab Christ, what if he'd been drugged? It would explain that feeling in his stomach. Why would anyone even think it'd be a good idea to roofie him, though, let alone plunk him in some stranger's bed? This was some crazy fraternity hazing level crap.
More Maddox samples:
tabtabAs Maddox finished his tirade, a morning quiet settled in the room. The woman hadn't budged. While there was a subtle surprise on her, he couldn't read more of a reaction than that. “Hello?” Too confused? Perhaps she was a clueless victim in this prank like he was. Or maybe waking up next to shouting strangers was just another day for her. The shoulder he had landed on developed a mild ache while he waited. Nothing much: he could ignore it, but it confirmed that whatever was happening wasn't some bizarre dream. The impact itself should have been enough to wake him. Barring that, the pain should have done the trick. He was actually here, wherever here was.
tabtabThe redhead finally stood up; whatever Maddox may have been expecting her to do after that, she instead braided her hair, stretched, and generally acted as if he wasn't in the room at all. How was she not more thrown by all of this? The final straw was when she wandered past him to the window, opening the curtains and gazing outside. Oh, for-- “You know what? Fine. I don't have time to mess with this.” He'd just find his own damn way out of this place, and maybe he could figure out later what happened to him. If he was still somewhere in Airentown, he could find his way home eventually once he wandered the streets a bit. But if not? He had no phone, no car, no clue on his location...and he was still under-dressed. Hmm. Maybe his current state would attract a cop car or something. He could try to explain that he was lost, or at worst, get dragged to the station and call someone to bail him out. At least he'd get home. The threat of being hauled away in handcuffs never seemed so appealing.
tabtab Maddox had already turned towards the door when the other occupant in the room finally spoke. He hadn't been convinced she could. Her posture and tone were authoritarian and tinged in stoic dissatisfaction. The sunlight through the window behind her only accentuated the effect. Young human? Who spoke like that besides a cartoon villain? He flashed back for a moment to some sour-faced superintendents back in school. Pretty similar. The only good thing was she confirmed they hadn't done anything together. Considering his experience with crazy exes, his thick head hopefully knew to not sleep with anyone this weird. The Kingdom of Avierat bit finally earned a response from him. “The who of what now?” She'd said Avierat, not Airentown. And Kingdom? One side of his mouth curled up in a frustrated confusion. Damn right those names didn't mean anything. He didn't huff out a sarcastic laugh when she said something about trusting her, but his face was obviously unconvinced.
tabtab“I don't need the long story,” he responded when she didn't commit to the reason for him being there. “A few pointers can't be that hard.” And safe my a**. She couldn't seriously expect him to stand there and believe that. So, she knew why he was here, but she wasn't telling. Was she working alone, though, or were there others waiting outside the door, in case he tried to flee? She seemed easy enough to get past, and surely she knew that. As she shuffled to her wardrobe and pulled out an odd, black, robe-like piece of clothing, he expected her to pop back into her little wakeup routine. Maybe he could actually slip out the door and take his chances with anyone outside. But she brought the item over and actually offered it to him instead. What, he was supposed to wear her clothes now? Come on. Up close, it looked an awful lot like a graduation robe (why was this place designed to remind him of school?), maybe mixed with a court drama. He scrutinized her little offering like it could reach out and bite. "My name is Lyra Mellisande, and I am the High Judge of this Kingdom.” His eyes shot up from the robe to her face, with the same unsettled look. Unblinking.
tabtab High Judge? Now it all made sense.
tabtab He was in Hell. Or close enough.
tabtab Maybe he had died in his sleep, and this was judgement day for every shitty little thing he'd ever done, complete with a chief justice. Showing up at school in your underwear was a common kids' nightmare, so perhaps the Powers That Be decided to add that in for kicks. If he wasn't in some personal purgatory, he may as well be. Maybe the fire and brimstone came once Madame Condescension here wore him down.
tabtabHis stare didn't move as she continued. Even with her very polite words - or even because of them - there was the patronizing tone of someone bribing a misbehaving puppy. He was being talked down to. His distaste kept his unsettled stomach nagging him. Lyra asked his name and offered the robe again. He stepped back. “Maddox, if you actually have to ask.” If she knew so damn much, how had she not known that? “Maybe you can try figuring out a guy's name before he's stuck in your bedroom. And no thanks.” One hand pushed the fabric back towards her. “I think I'm fine for now.” If they were going to drop him here in his underwear, he wasn't going to show any signs of being bothered by it. And he definitely wasn't going to put on that thing.
tabtab A loud knock on the main doors snapped his attention, and he turned to look at the source, realizing a moment after that he had his back to the Lyra woman. He moved to the side enough that she was in his peripheral vision. "The High Prophet of Avierat has summoned You to the conference room. Please attend with your company at once, for he shall explain what is the meaning behind all of this. Do not waste time on other unnecessary matters." So, she definitely wasn't alone in this. Even through the heavy door, he could hear the faint clatter of the man outside wearing something heavy, maybe hauling a weapon. Maybe if he played along a little...If he wasn't actually in limbo, he could use the walk to look for some way out of this place. There was clearly no dashing down the halls without fighting that, and his stomach would slow him down too much. He probably couldn't take more than a hit or two without heaving, not for a couple more minutes. “I think that's for you, Miss Judge. Can we get this the hell over with?” He barely waited long enough for any response before moving for the door.
tabtab A small shrug brushed off Lyra's comment about being cold. It wasn't that chilly in here. A little...breezy, maybe, but he could make do. He'd been colder before. And what was with the whole “young” thing? Young human, young one: she looked about the same age as him. Maybe it was some superiority thing here. Or maybe he really was in Purgatory, and everyone here was biblically old. As for where he thought he was going? “Well, I'd planned to follow the guard out there and get out of your hair, but it seems he's stuck you with me for a little longer.” Seriously, the man had walked away by the time he reached the door. You'd think they'd be a little more military about all this, and require an escort. Apparently not. It disappointed him a little; he might have preferred to be brought in by guards, rather than the headmistress glower he was dealing with now.
tabtab By the time he'd looked behind him, Lyra was gone, too. He groaned to himself. I'm never going to get anywhere in this place. About five seconds before he gave up and barged ahead on his own anyway – getting lost or not, it was something – she finally re-emerged, in some getup that looked like it belonged in an operahouse or formal dinner. Was that what people wore to a conference room here? The way she acted, he expected a power suit instead. It didn't look very judge-like, either, besides the ubiquotous black. Maybe she was showing him up to spite his underwear scenario. Still convinced he was heading towards some personal judgement day, he noticed she didn't take the rejected judge's robe as she led the way out the door, though. Maybe his case wasn't important enough for the High Judge.
tabtab The walk down the corridor took less time than he thought. Maddox spent most of it looking around. If this all was the last thing he saw before damnation or whatever, he was going to take it all in. Lyra's room had been large enough to fit his entire apartment in it. He was pretty sure the entire floor of his complex could fit in the hall. There were a few narrow windows along the way, but they didn't pass close enough to get a sense of where they were – besides high up. The brisk pace set his headache off again, but at least his stomach felt a little better as he distracted himself. A little. He tried his best to brush off Lyra's villainous-monologue about escaping, though he couldn't help but grumble an, “Oh. Thanks for stating the obvious.” Of course there would be some anti-escape plan in place. If they knew what they were doing, though, it'd be more secure than their escort plans. He kept his mouth shut for the remaineder of the walk until they reached the door, and Lyra gave a welcome dripping in irony. With a curt nod and a, “Yes, ma'am,” he stepped past.
tabtab Conference Room, my a**. Yup, he was definitely in purgatory. Everything around screamed court, and a high court at that. No doubt miss High Judge was eager to take whatever was her spot up there. The room was mostly empty, and the wood and stone construction ensured even his barefoot steps left an impressive echo. This place was built for booming voices and drama. Besides Lyra and himself, there was only one other person: a very elderly looking man, watching, but with a look of introspection. That must be the so-called High Prophet. If this Lyra chick thought Maddox's underwear was weird, what did she think of this guy's outfit? Or were High Prophets past scrutiny? He was wearing more than Maddox was, of course, but it definitely left Lyra looking overdressed. It was some sort of sackcloth, or leather: he couldn't tell from a distance, but the coarse shape looked informal and inexpensive. The old man looked like he stepped out of a hippie commune. I suppose that makes sense for a Prophet. Cool tattoos, though. Taking a deep breath in and out, Maddox crossed his arms and waited for the inevitable.
The doors behind him opened, and more people came filing in. He didn't pay much attention to the conversation of the strangers until he heard one shout to another about finding a human. So, that was just a thing they did here. He glanced back at the new victim, then did a double-take. “Marq?! You, too?!” His friend was considerably better dressed, but the crumpled mess of his suit made Maddox think he must have just had a similar experience. Were they serious about this whole soul-on-trial thing? Really, Marquise might have been the best chance he had at some sort of defense, but dragging him here without warning too was just unfair. Though Maddox was a bit selfishly happy to see someone he knew.
A voice cleared her throat behind them. “I’ll give you guys three seconds to tell me what’s going on.” Maddox turned and stared blankly for a few seconds. “...******** if I know.”Ellie? That threw his judgement day theory out the window. Maybe Marquise would stick up for him, but he and El weren't on good enough terms for that. Even if she tried to speak on his side, it would probably end as an insult instead. He didn't have any other ideas now. “My guess was somewhere around Hell, but I don't think they'd all of us hang out together for that. Seems against the point.”He took another few seconds to think, and something clicked in his head. All of us.“Wait, is it just the three of us, then, or...? Muta--Muta and Siri. Have you guys seen them here?” If they were willing to drag someone as nice as Marquise in here...
tabtab The room was filling quickly, but Maddox's focus remained on his friends. In the confusion, he took the tie offered by Marquise, but he held it up and glanced at it, then back at his friend.“Marq, what the hell am I supposed to do with this? I know I look like s**t right now, but there's a line between indecent and Chippendales.” He was too distracted to actually hand it back and only had a partial answer as to where they were. “Miss High Judge over there said something about a city: an S- something...and a kingdom of Avierat. KINGDOM. Of Avierat.” A stress tried to drive that wording home to his friend, and confirm how far from home they had to be. Who used a phrase like kingdom? “Avierat. Not Airentown.”He took a quick look around the room, at the High Prophet, occupants, and numerous guards filling the space. “This is ******** serious, Marq. Wherever this place is, I--”
tabtab The sentence stopped short when Marq noticed Siri arriving and broke away to fetch her. That makes four out of five of us. So, I was right. That means... Another look searched for Muta, but there were no signs of her yet. If they were all here, she had to be, too, right? If any of these psychopaths had done anything to her... The entry doors slammed open one last time, and Maddox exhaled in relief as a final stranger entered, escorting his friend somewhat roughly by the arm. Muta looked confused, but unhurt at first glance. And better dressed than all of them. Of course she would. Leave it to her to fit into a place like this immediately.
tabtab“Muta!” The shout bounced off the stone walls as Maddox broke off to get to her, but he only made it a few feet before a blinding blue light filled the room behind him. Turning around, he could barely make out the shape of the High Prophet through the glare. The other man's tattoos emitted a piercing glow, forcing Maddox to squeeze his eyes shut. By the time he muttered a, “What the?” the effect dimmed. With a more subtle luminescence, the Prophet used his staff to ease himself up from his seat. Maddox was about to brush the explosive phenomenon off and head for Muta again when the Prophet looked up, meeting his eyes on the way down from the seat.
tabtab Everything froze.
tabtab Rather, Maddox himself felt frozen. Heavy. Feet locked like lead weights on the floor, and his muscles tensed and refused to move. Intense pressure closed on his chest, and a lump formed so thick in his throat that he couldn't speak. What the hell had the High Prophet done? It had to be related to the strange blueness he was emitting, but what? How? Just drawing breath took any physical effort on Maddox's part that wasn't fixed on the old man. His mind reeled. Something was burned into the back of his mind with that blue glow. It was an overwhelming feeling of, of what? Dread? Fear? No, not quite. Everyone else in the room seemed to disappear as the Prophet finally reached him, meeting eyes again, and Maddox figured it out. It was an instinctive sensation: that gut feeling before going over the edge of a rollercoaster hill, or when a car's tires skidded on a patch of ice. Inevitability. It was the only word that described it. As the Prophet's finger extended, pointing at Maddox's chest, even the most stubborn parts of his head felt one thing: Whatever was happening here, there was no stopping it.
tabtab “The gift that's inside is stronger than that of our own. Use it well, child, for it will save lives, not only your own but those of your friends too.”
tabtab None of that made sense. If he could have opened his mouth, he would have protested. The windows of the room glowed gold, tuning in on him like a spotlight. He couldn't budge enough to flinch from it. Somewhere in his locked muscles, he felt his stomach twist. Almost literally. The nausea from earlier was nothing; this felt as if someone had reached inside and tied him in knots. The already considerable pounding of his heart sped up, intensified, coursed through him like someone hammering to break out. As that sensation made him dizzy, the room spun. He couldn't breathe anymore. Oh, God. I'm gonna die.
tabtab Just as Maddox resigned himself to losing consciousness, the feeling broke. A final beat ran down his arms and hands, and most of his muscles relaxed. Still dizzy, he staggered as breath finally returned to him, though ragged. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. What just happened? Maddox tried to make sense of what the old man had said, and tried not to get sick. The gift that's inside? What was he talking about? Maddox wasn't even good at saving himself, let alone anyone else. More like everyone was always picking up after him instead. He tried to listen to what the others were told as he recovered. Some of what he heard was no surprise. Reminding Marquise that he couldn't save everyone, Siri's ability to keep everyone together... that all made more sense than what he had been told. Ellie's, though: he wasn't sure where that one came from. Though the brat was fearsome when she didn't get her way.
tabtab He could focus more by the time the Prophet got to Muta. He didn't like what he heard. ''Perhaps, it would have been better if you stayed with the Gods, for the things you will experience will only lead to pain.'' What kind of thing was that to say? As the ominous gray light enveloped her, anger boiled in the part of his stomach that had twisted a moment ago. Stop it. Stop it; you're scaring her. Muta had been through enough in their own town. Damned if some stranger was going to drag his best friend here and promise even worse. He stared intently as the gray faded, revealing Muta's frightened expression. For God's sake, stop it. As soon as the glow faded, and Maddox felt himself released from whatever voodoo the High Prophet used, he took a few stumbling steps before making his way over to her. “Muta?” Despite the drain on his muscles, he slung a tired arm over her shoulders. “Muta, hey, you okay?” He was still in that position when the Prophet spoke to those in the room who actually lived there. The only thing he gathered from the first bits was that he and his friends were being used by these guys. When the word soulmate popped up, he snapped his gaze back up to the Prophet. Soulmate? Scaring them half to death wasn't enough. Now he seemed to think it was a good idea to...pair them off? He gave a confused and disbelieving look over at Saaru, as the old man seemed to think they were a pair of some sort. Not likely. He'd just spent the morning getting on her every last nerve. The only affections he was pretty sure they shared was a mutual wish to keep their distance.
tabtab The Prophet finished, and what had to be a cluster of servents showed up with clothes for those of them who weren't as fashionably outfitted as Muta. He took them numbly with a cursory glance. Ellie was already taking advantage of the silence. “Oh for Chrissake...”There were more important things going on here than her little princess dreams, thank you. His teeth were gritted, a combination of frustration and the effects of whatever he'd just been through. “Can someone, please, explain what the ******** going on before I scream?”Not that he hadn't done that already today, but he had several decibels left on the scale if needed.
tab Maddox expected Muta to be her usual self when he ran over, or try to be. Maybe she'd give a clingy hug, then send a couple hand signs that she was fine and blink away the fear he'd seen. But she burst into tears instead, wrapping so tightly around him that he could barely move to return the gesture. Marq's tie, somehow still absently in his grasp, was offered for her to wipe her face. “Okay, okay. Just let it out...” Maybe he should have said something reassuring, but anything close to “everything will be fine” would have felt like a lie. This place was making him more angry by the second. Muta's fingernails dug into his back as she cried. Wincing, he felt grateful that the High Prophet had left the room, grateful that Muta was clinging too hard for Maddox to pursue the guy. Exhausted or not, he wanted to grab the old man by the throat, and that wouldn't have ended well for any of them. What the hell did he do to her? To all of us?
tab Everything devolved into chaos after that. The woman who'd dragged Marq to the room was talking about sacrificing them. Idle threat or not, Maddox's grip on Muta tightened. Ellie was getting such a verbal lashing that he almost felt bad for her. Marq tried to keep the group organized, but he sounded like he'd been through the ringer himself. A couple of the castle natives kept their composure better, somehow. One of them, the walnut-haired man who had entered with Muta, approached and actually spoke to him. For a moment, Maddox actually got a bit of hope that someone would tell him something useful. That was dashed soon enough. "Good morning, sir. I am the Chancellor to the King, Kai Lapis. You and your companions must be understandably confused by all of this talk. At this moment, I’m unfortunately not officially authorized to describe the arrangement to you, but perhaps that’s for the better.” Despite his anger, Maddox's face went blank. The complete...uselessness of those sentences left him dumbfounded.“The-the hell it is!” They'd just been kidnapped. He felt like someone had rearranged his insides. His best friend was in hysterics. How was not being told what was happening 'for the better?' This place is a madhouse. Does anyone know what's going on? The man named Kai smartly gave himself some distance after that, addressing all of them and suggesting they regroup before getting their questions answered. The idea was echoed by the man who had been called out as the prince. Maddox turned his focus to his friends, rather than the strangers. Most of them seemed to think it a good idea, so he resigned himself with a grumble.
tab Muta stopped crying during the Q&A session and released her grip, allowing Maddox a chance to pull on the clothes he'd been offered. Her gaze stayed distant, rarely straying from the floor, and Maddox found his attention split between getting the information he wanted and making sure she wasn't about to cry again. Details spun in his head about Avierat, Sonos, Minhires, Sky Children: marrying off said Sky Children to to save the kingdom. How the couples were picked, they didn't seem to know. How this was supposed to save the kingdom, they didn't seem to know, either. Why, besides threat of death, Maddox and his friends were supposed to go along with this: maybe it wasn't the safest idea to ask that now. As the day wore on, and they all were sent to the Great Hall for final preparations, Muta grew alert again. Her hands started flickering questions in sign language. They started slow enough, and he swapped between signing back and answering aloud for parts he didn't know gestures for. But every question led to two more, and he didn't always have the answers. Each, “I don't know,” he gave put a new crease on her forehead, and her signing became larger, more frustrated. Hell, frustrated seemed his permanent mood today, too. His own, “I don't know,” started as signs, then became a mumbled response, then spoken. The last one, all he could do was rub at his headache and shake his head. “I don't-I don't know.” The disappointment was obvious in his voice. He wanted to have the answers, he did. But he was so damned tired, and confused. As the women of their group were whisked away separately, Muta's hands flitted up one more time.
tab“Is it the tree?”
tab Color drained from his face as she was dragged out of view. The tree. No. No, there was no way. The shock stayed long enough for Marquise to be dragged off by the fireball who made human sacrifice threats earlier. Long enough for Maddox himself to be led to Saaru's room, only putting up enough fight with the servants to shove away their pushy hands and walk between them. They closed the door behind him, sending some paperwork from Saaru's desk nearby scattering to the floor. Maddox stared blankly towards the other side of the room. The tree. His memory flashed to names scrawled on pieces of paper, and the smell of dirt as they buried them by the oak tree, in that box.That damn box.It may not have been fancy, but Maddox had spent more time making it than he'd admitted: probably more hope, too. If the tree really was magic, it would know how much effort was put into things, right? And everyone was so excited, so he'd been sure to do as good a job as his kid hands could. Now, if that, that thing had actually landed them here...God ''--******** dammit!” He bent over, pressing his palms against his forehead and taking a few deep breaths through his teeth. Great. Good going, Maddox. And thanks a lot, 'Oh Mighty Tree.' Abduction, mad prophets, threats on their life: this was its idea of finding love for his friends, for him? If we ever get back to Airentown, I'm digging up that box and burning it.”
tabExhaustion from the day swept over him, and he wanted to sit down. Instead, he gave a cursory glance around the room and made his way to what he hoped was the bath area. Tired or not, that cold sweat he'd developed from the High Prophet's organ rearranging also left him feeling grimy. He made quick work of cleaning up, though; he really did just want some rest already. Hopefully Muta and the others were okay, but he was just so damn tired, his usefulness was fading by the minute, and he was eager to stop the repeat of the High Prophet's words echoing in his mind. The gift that's inside is stronger than that of our own. Use it well, child, for it will save lives, not only your own but those of your friends too. Right. Build a box, get your friends kidnapped, and save them. “If we can be 'saved,' then get us out of here.” There was an odd sensation that had lodged in his chest after the Prophet's words, though. It was hard to describe: an unsettled, almost eager feeling. Actually, thinking of that dumb box under the oak tree, it was a bit like finishing a project: the eagerness once it's done to go find a use for it. Impatience, maybe. Then again, when was Maddox ever patient? It was probably nerves, a result of how cornered he felt in this situation. After cleaning himself up and redressing, he dragged himself to the still-empty room, giving it a better examination. Window, bed, fireplace, desk, some sort of lounger couch-like item in the corner: mostly it was a comfortable, but utilitarian space. Clean, too, except for the stacks of paperwork around the desk. And stacks, and stacks... Damn, you'd think the High Judge would organize stuff like that better. Aren't those things important? He replaced the sheets that the servants' door slamming had sent flying and made his way to the bed. Extra blankets and pillows had been set up on one side, in preparation for his stay. His mind thought of that frozen, impassive glance Saaru gave so well, and the inevitable lectures on what was and wasn't acceptable, and how dare his arm inadvertently fling over in the middle of the night. “Nope. ******** that.” He was not in the mood. One hand grabbed the extra bedding supplies and set up a spot for himself on the lounger instead. He'd slept on worse. Collapsing into the makeshift bed, Maddox's eyes drooped, and he drifted off.
tab Something flew across the air, skimming the top of the lounger before crashing against the wall behind it.
tab Maddox jolted awake, instinct flattening him to the furniture as he waited to make sure nothing else was coming. 'What was--?!'His bleary eyes made out Saaru's shape by the door, figure coiled in what could only be taken for anger. It was a far cry from the impassive ice stare, that was for sure. But why aim something at him? “What – what the ******** was that for?! I'm not even doing anything!” Was it the whole arranged betrothal thing? Because, believe him, he wasn't any more thrilled about it than she was. Don't take out your rage on me.
tab Still half-alert, Maddox waited for Saaru's answer. He couldn't see much in the dark, no more than the outline of the top of her head: still bent, still angry. She shifted, completely out of any light filtering from the window. There was a rustling sound. Whoa, whoa, whoa: suddenly, Maddox was very, very awake. Maybe he couldn't see, but he definitely knew the sound of clothes coming off. 'Whaaat?' If Saaru had been heading to get her bedclothes, that would make sense, but just standing there and stripping in front of him, even if it was dark? Between that, the hurled object, and the obvious fact that she was pissed, he was getting some serious mixed messages. Okay, maybe she was extremely faithful to their little kingdom-slash-cult, but if she was trying to convince herself into angry hate sex with a stranger, just because some old prophet said she was supposed to marry him...Maddox was not about to be a participant in this. And if hurling a blunt object at someone was her idea of foreplay: 'Actually, no, that fits with most everything these maniacs have done so far.' He sat up, planting his feet on the ground and debating which part of the room would be best to duck to before he outright fought her. Before he could speak up again, Saaru did.
tab “For the love of stars! You know the penalty for touching my things, you feathered hamster. Woman up and pay the price!” And there it happened again. Someone saying something so damn confusing that now he was frozen in place and didn't know what to do. 'Feathered hamster?' 'Woman up?' 'Maybe the last bit was some sort of masculinity jab--' There was more movement: faster. With it came a deep, loud creaking, like Saaru had picked up her entire desk and flung it at him. Maddox barely had any time to try to pull himself lower before something flew overhead, missing the lounger by inches. He ducked completely, waiting for the projectile to smash against the wall like the previous item, but instead there was a thud on the floor. Strangely enough it sounded...softer? Solid, definitely, but not wooden. It wasn't the sound of furniture. He glanced over at where Saaru had been seconds ago, unable to see if she was still there or sprinting at him, ready to strangle.
Whatever had landed behind him started moving, making a quick line to the fireplace. Something scraped against the stone with a nails-on-chalkboard noise, grating on his ears. A small flame sparked to life. The light source formed a silhouette around its creator as it grew, and Maddox's eyes went round. He didn't recognize the shape, but it was large: even larger than the lounge chair he was sitting on. It was distinctly monstrous, too, wrapped in a serpentine shape on the ground. Was he on some sort of drug trip? That was also something he wouldn't put past this asylum of a castle, and he'd been tired and dumb enough to have a couple glasses of wine during the earlier questioning. Maybe he should second-guess any formal geniality being offered by certain unhelpful Chancellors. But a drug trip wouldn't explain that those claws on the end of the limbs had been the items starting the fire. He had no time to react to that at all before IT – whatever it was - whirled in anger. Maddox caught a glimpse of black eyes and a cobra-like, hooded face. He sucked in a quick breath. “Are you mad?! What are you doing in my lounge chair?! Are you trying to kill yourself?” The shape spun around again after the outburst, tending to the fire.
None of the questions launched at him actually reached his ears. For a moment, Maddox just stared, eyes bugged out, at the back of his beastly inquisitor. Whatever sanity remained in him after the day's ordeals made a silent prayer. 'Please, just please let this be a nightmare. Maybe waking up here wasn't one. Maybe the Prophet thing wasn't. But this, please just this one thing at least...this can't be happening.' No such luck. There was a very normal sort of warmth growing from the fire. Just like it had when he woke up here in the morning, the logical part of his mind determined that this was real. Then it went temporarily offline.
tabIf her back hadn't been turned, he would have been screaming in her face. Planting adrenaline-shaky feet, Maddox hauled out of the lounger and backed up, keeping the snake creature in view in front of him. He didn't stop until he had at least half the room between them. An upside to the fire: he could see well enough to do that without bumping into anything. “What the ******** is that?! No, seriously, what--?! You-you stay over there: the hell over there!” Wondering if he was about to get attacked, or eaten, or who knew what else, it clicked in his head that the voice coming from this...naked snake-lady-creature, was Saaru's. A shaky sort of laughing denial edged into his voice. “Oh, no. There's no damn way. You've got...you've got to be ******** kidding me!” He rubbed the last of any remaining sleep off his face with an unsteady hand, nerves frayed and threatening to snap altogether. In the dim light, a couple fingers pointed back in Saaru's direction. “What is that?! What the—what even are you?” His subconscious made the connection between this Saaru-monster and all the jabs the castle residents had made regarding humans, but he didn't have the capacity to think on it now.
┤ Cass ├ Cassius Vincent Kent: Last of the Dragons Current Form: Human ║Location: Entering the Inn
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Pulling one last drag on his cigarette, Cass narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the building. Okay, color him surprised. Considering the Council had invited him to this place, he'd expected something different. Something more grand, more imposing. Something more...more. This looked like a normal hotel, of sorts: a place that advertised cozy beds and a continental breakfast...Whatever the hell that was. It didn't look like a place for Council business. "Well, maybe that's what they want." A bunch of people gathering here just looked like a holiday, after all.
He smudged out the cigarette stub on a pile of snow, hiked his duffel bag across one shoulder, and trudged up the icy steps inside.
Warm air brushed his face as the door closed behind him. Thank goodness. Winter weather wasn't his thing. The entryway resembled someone's house more than a business. Several doorways led off from it farther down, with no clear direction for the welcome desk, or the guest rooms. "Hello?" No answer. Maybe he was meant to find his own way, or maybe the staff was busy with other guests. So, he was unattended? Fine. It gave him an excuse to take a self-guided tour through the place...starting with the routes least likely to be the right way. By the time he turned to the last two rooms, he'd found the dining room, the kitchen, some basement stairs, and a tiny office in a converted closet. Everything looked standard.
The second-to-last room didn't seem to have any set use: just some frames on the wall and chairs scattered here and there. The only notable thing was that someone else was there, too. She wasn't roaming about like him, or even admiring the pictures. She gripped her suitcase handle, looking like a child who lost her family in a crowd. If she was part of the Council, he'd never met her before. "Hey." He called over, rearranging his duffel bag against his shoulder. "You looking for the front desk, too?" He nodded his head in the direction of the last open door frame. "I think it's that way. I've tried about everything else."
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More Cass posts:
Why was this girl staring at him? He gave a quick glance over himself, but nothing looked out of place. If she was just going to space out after a hello, he didn't need to waste his time. He had a foot turned to leave by the time she spoke more. She got through a sentence or two, paused, then vanished.
Vanished?!
He tuned in his sharper dragon senses. They still detected the body heat of someone in the room, but only her luggage and some clothing stood there. What was this, a lame magic trick? If she expected applause, she wouldn't get any. She faded back in. Then out. Then in, still apologizing. He missed some of what she said, too concentrated. She didn't seem aware she was doing this. Perhaps it wasn't an act. He was staring at her, now, much as she had been at him. Hmm. Still nothing odd about her heat signature. He was mostly sure she was human.
Maybe this place would be interesting after all.
He shook off his surprise enough to respond with his name when asked. "Cass," Heh, when was the last time someone called him Mister? Hell, when was the last time someone over six years old called him that? This was too much. He tried to keep his smile easygoing, but a laughing smirk threatened to ruin it. "I can't promise to lead anyone anywhere, but I don't see another way where the desk could be." He turned down the only doorway he had yet to explore. He glanced at Lunasa, to see if she was still following - and visible. "So, do you usually wait in corners where no one can see you when you're lost?" He kept the easy smile on, less tempted to break now. He wasn't going to actually mention the vanishing he'd seen; that would be too easy. It would be more fun to throw vague, normal-sounding questions and see how she reacted.
Finally, he found the desk. The woman behind it looked like a typical young human woman, but his senses didn't settle that way for her, like they did for Lunasa. No matter. More girls meant more eye candy. He wouldn't complain. He approached the desk, propping one elbow on it while he pulled his letter from his jacket pocket and waved it in front of him. "I believe I have a room reserved for me. And hopefully an explanation, at some point?" His letter had been vague, saying that the council demanded his presence at the Inn. Something about the future of his kind, and how the Council had reached a solution. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like whatever the solution it was, but the vagueness of the letter had intrigued him enough to get him here.
"Standing in a dead-end room is about as stuck in a corner as you can get," he quipped to Lunasa. She brushed over the 'no one can see you,' part of his comment. Either she'd been smart enough not to bring it up, or she'd been too oblivious. For now, he was going with oblivious.
As the woman behind the desk made a pretty show of searching up information, Cass tapped his letter impatiently a few times on the desk before tucking it away in his jacket again. "Cassius Kent," As if she really needed that. She probably had more information on all of them than they could imagine. Well, points to her for maintaining image. He wasn't expecting invisi-girl to produce her own letter. Surprised, Cass stared at it for a moment, longer than he intended to, before returning his attention to the desk attendant. It looked nearly identical to his, minus actual mentioning of the council. So, the council was inviting humans along for this inn meetup? Pieces began to fall together in his head... A solution to the future of his species...
His free hand rubbed his mouth in an absent-minded gesture. It hid the fresh grin forming on his face. Don't laugh, don't laugh. So, they dragged a bunch of eligible bachelorette humans? That was their clever solution? All they needed were a few cameras and a good marketing exec to get one hell of a reality show. Lunasa showed no knowledge of the true purpose of her invitation, either. Way to lead a lamb to the slaughter, Council. How long before she's regretting all those little thank-yous?
He waited until the woman behind the counter handed him his key, then turned from the desk. A small crowd had developed while he waited. He flashed one of his easy smiles to the man named Ren waiting behind them. "Apparently I am. It seems we have quite a little party developing, don't we? And pets allowed, too. That's a nice change from most hotels." He glanced at the fox at the man's feet, then back up. Honestly, Cass wasn't a fan of pets - his dragon self preferred to eat small furry things, not cuddle them. While that instinct tempered in his human form, lacking the proper teeth and claws and all for the job - he was still rather indifferent about pets. He wasn't, however, stupid. Ren looked unobtrusive enough, but just like the woman behind the counter, something was off. His eyes were too old, and his heat signature didn't register quite in the human range.
With a small jingle of his key, he stepped back away from the counter, giving a look over Ren, the young woman waiting in the chair, and the other strangers around the room. "Well, I've taken up this space long enough. Next!"
Normal conversation petered out as the various other guests wandered this way or that, or went up to the desk to check in. It was a diverse group, that was for sure. Whether that would work out well or poorly...well, who knew? Ren left to find his room, and Lunasa placed herself in a corner without receiving an answer from him to her question. Anyone left around him was too busy getting their own keys. Maybe it was time for him to find his quarters. He could use to put his belongings away before he took a wander around the unexplored rooms of the hotel. The Council hadn't explained how they were doing their little dating game besides getting everyone to show up at the same time. If he was expected to go socialize more and get to know the women they'd brought, he'd do better waiting until the check-in chaos finished and everyone had their heads about them more.
He nearly brushed right past Lunasa on the way, with little more than a goodbye nod. A few feet past, he stopped, scanning around the room and the crowd in it. Aw, hell, might as well play the good guy for a moment.
He took the few steps over to her and leaned over in what likely looked like casual conversation from the outside. "Look. If you were invited and not required, I suggest dropping your key, pulling another disappearing act, and heading back out the door. This place isn't what you think, and there's a dumb little matchmaking game going on that isn't going to be much fun for anyone here." With that, he jingled the key in his hand, swung his duffel back over his shoulder, and hiked away to find his room. He'd done his good deed for the day. Now, his goal was to get away before she caught on that his 'disappearing act' quip might be literal. So much for having fun casually hinting at that little trick of hers.
He found his room after a few minutes of searching and checking floors, then went in. The carpet and furniture looked tidy enough, with a spacious bed and some free room for lounging. Not bad. It certainly wasn't the best quarters he'd ever seen, but it beat those flea-riddled cheap motels that littered human cities and backroads. Cass tried one of those out of curiosity years back. Never again. He swung his bag onto his new bed and did a little unpacking.
Hugo: Water Knight Location: Arriving via boattabTalking to: Ship's 1st Mate tabWith: Water Dragon Mouth ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Salt air. It wasn't the air of his childhood home - he hadn't felt or smelled that in years. But he was still surrounded by ocean and shore, and that was enough for now. Hugo stood on the open deck of the ship, soaking in as much sun and wind as he could before they arrived at the docks. How appropriate, for the Water Knight to arrive by water. His fishing spear stayed grasped in one hand; the gifted weapon was rarely out of his sight and always close at hand. As the boat neared the shore, he fought a temptation to simply jump in and swim the rest of the way. The tide was coming in just right - it would've been an easy enough swim, at least by his standards. But throwing that kind of attention on himself might be a bad thing, especially first arriving in town. Who would respect a dragon god whose Knight dove off on his own like a child?
The first mate of the ship shouted something at him above the wind and timber of the ship, and Hugo snapped out of his reverie. To be honest, he didn't speak the man's Italian. He had, though, picked up a smattering of Latin and English on his travels in the last few years, and the Latin portion and hand gestures from the Mate indicated they were heading to an open spot in port, a few minutes ahead of them. Hugo nodded and replied with a thank-you. "Obrigado." Of course, the other man didn't understand his Portuguese, but smiled and nodded in assumption. Hugo flashed him a while smile as the other man left. Hopefully the Mouth didn't mind traveling on this modest little ship. It hadn't been the most luxurious crossing, by any means, but the locals running it were eager enough to bring in anything related to the Water Dragon. It felt safe, if not impressive.
Rome loomed ahead, vast and crowded, stretching as far as he could see. He'd been in large cities, at least a few. This was one of the largest. Most of the buildings shared similar tan and terracotta hues, blending like a tight puzzle together along the shoreline and beyond. He muttered a prayer that the Mouth's sense of where to go stayed strong. Getting lost here could take days to unravel.
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More Hugo Posts:
Hugo felt the weight of Djinn's hand on his shoulder. He gave a quick smile back at the Water Mouth in response to his comment on the city, though there was a sad agreement in it. Three years had given them time to learn enough of each other's languages and passed that barrier for most parts. "I've noticed most large cities are. The more beauty, the more blood behind it." His father had always said that the world was built on the blood of the poor; as a child, he'd assumed that meant hard work. He'd learned it wasn't as simple as that.
Quick feet brought him to the port side of the ship, watching with an intent focus as the vessel reached its docking. He came from a long line of fishermen; reaching safe mooring was a feeling he never quite tired of. He waited until Djinn had spoken with one of the men on the ship before making his own exit. "Dragon's blessings be with you," he commented before grabbing his own possessions and leaving. Judging from the flash he'd seen from the Mouth's eyes, though, they already had that. And well earned, too.
A busy dockside and the close press of crowded streets muffled the sounds and scent of the ocean as they made their way down the dockside. The end of Hugo's fishing spear made a soft thud as he brought it down along with his walking pace, out of habit. It wasn't such an unusual sight, here by the shoreline, so it drew little attention. This would be an ideal place to seek new followers, if they were here for that. But they weren't. He raised a knowingly hesitant brow at the offer of wine, but he was thirsty enough from the ride over to accept it and take a healthy swig. His mouth suppressed cringing at the taste of it, and he handed it back. "Que nojo! It's that wine of yours that is best handled after drinking. How do you enjoy that? If I wasn't down to my reserve water... Maybe that Bacchus of theirs led to some sweeter choices I can find on the way." He paused, planting his spear's end on the ground in front of him. Small roads and walking paths trickled away like streams from the docks, heading all directions. A couple large thoroughfares led straight away: one flat and one uphill. Shops, stalls, and people crowded both. Most other routes twisted too far to see long down them, just as populated despite the lack of merchants. "Which way do we head first? I assume the Dragons will pick some busy, central spot, but maybe they want a quiet one instead." He glanced at Djinn. "Or should we stop by the market stalls first, and buy you a new tunic?" The heat affected him a little less, though the stagnant air they'd likely find deeper in the city wouldn't help. "The market on the straight street seems very noisy. It could give us a start."
Hugo accepted the spare water with grateful thanks. "Well, I've always been told not to trust someone with a weapon in one hand and too much wine in the other." He gave a small jostle of his spear. "Bacchus' advice will have to wait for someone else." Djinn's focus homed in on the Dragon's pull, trying to find them a direction. The Mouth's gaze went distant and inward there would be no real talking to him until his concentration was over.
Noise coming from one of the distant market regions caught his attention in the crowd. The population here generally walked place to place, in too tight a crowd for any hurrying. But somewhere in the shuffling, clinking coins, and shouting stall keepers was the frantic pounding of feet, coming closer. The casual grip on his spear tightened, and he lost most of the friendly ease he'd displayed up until then as he honed his senses on the noise. He and Djinn had come for a hopefully positive meetup with the others, but the threat of enemies was ever-present...more so than normal with such a concentration of those serving the Dragons.
The sound approached, approached, and passed right by them. Hugo caught a brief glimpse of a girl - very young, and very small - only visible among the taller people around for an instant. An expression of terror set pale on her face. She bolted blindly past, heading straight for the water. He began to move, but the Water Mouth snapped out of his concentration and followed first, as if he'd known she was coming. "E então começa," he muttered, scooping up Djinn's abandoned bags on the shoulder with his own.
He only looked for a moment in the direction the two had gone. Instead, he faced the direction from which the girl had fled. If the Water Dragon had pulled Djinn's focus to the girl, than either she was a threat, or whatever she was running from was. Judging by the way she'd flown herself straight into the water... he'd take his chances to watch the roadway instead. While Djinn took care of the heroics for the moment, Hugo made his way backward and sideways to where the Mouth had disappeared into the water. A noisy crowd hovered on the edge of the dockside by the time the sandman re-emerged with the target of his rescue, but most pulled out of the way quick enough once they were safely on land again. "Here," he responded in English when Djinn shouted for him, edging through the last of the crowd and tossing the Mouth back his bags when he was ready. Then he swapped back to Portuguese. "I don't think she was followed." The Sandman seemed to find her no threat of any kind, so Hugo for the moment assumed the same. He gave a small, brief smile at the girl, as much as he could while still concentrating on their surroundings. Unsure what language would work best for her, he went with English again. "You're among friends. Don't worry." Poor thing was soaking wet, what looked to be bouncy curls and some likely beloved outfit hanging on her like wet yarn and sackcloth. Hopefully a little help won't be an abuse of power, eh?He turned his attention to the spear in his hand, focusing on the water. Redirecting water from things like cloth and hair didn't really take much power - no more than throwing a couple punches tired a professional fighter. But it was surprisingly delicate. Too little, and you've wasted energy. Too much, and you've made them brittle and broken. Even after three years, of honing his powers - and he and Djinn occasionally helping out a drowning sailor or freezing fisherman - Hugo hadn't found a perfect medium yet. It was best to leave things a little damp, but dry enough that their next trip in town wasn't to purchase a new outfit for the young stranger. The rest ran back out into the sea, drops returned to the Dragon's home.
Hotel key returned, car and anything else important dropped off with family: Greg was officially ready to go. He'd spent the day before having a final dinner with nearby friends and family who could make it - even if a certain upset younger sister scowled through the whole thing and barely spoke to him. His new look still didn't agree with her, or his quitting his job, touring with a band genre known for being more than a little wild... He'd tolerated her silence well enough. Then, it was off to a nearby hotel for the night, so he'd be close enough to not need his car. He'd woken too early - a mix of excitement and nerves he wouldn't admit he had - and he'd even had time for a quick jog in the pre-dawn hours before he checked out of the hotel. No doubt he made an interesting image as he left, walking with his bass guitar's case slung across his back, his dyed hair only half-up into its usual style, and the various patches and pins on his large bag jostling with his movement. His phone vibrated as he approached the bus yard, and he pulled it up. He'd missed a few texts while he was preoccupied: one from his older sister with a warm paragraph of "good luck" support, none from his younger, and a couple casual conversations from friends. The newest was from a bandmate. "WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BACCY KIDS. TODAY IS THE DAY!!! WHOEVER IS LATE WILL BE PERSONALLY THANKED BY ME. <3 Ju-Ju" "Heh." Well, he wasn't the only one feeling the frenzy of this adventure, then. If he stopped to think about it, he had so much riding on this tour and how it would go, but there was little point worrying too much. He'd chosen this route, and he wasn't backing out or regretting it now. No, he was looking forward to it.
An entire crowd of people already beat him to the exterior of the bus yard. Judging from the demographic, and the fact that they didn't register any excitement seeing him excuse his way through them, they were there for the headliner band. It let him push his way through without much trouble. There were only a couple actual band members waiting, none of whom he knew, and most seemed preoccupied waiting for their own bandmates. He lowered his bag onto the ground and busied himself replying to his texts while he waited.
Juniper was the first familiar face to arrive."Yo Greg! I see you got my text." He pulled his attention off the phone for a moment, indicating it with a casual wave and an easy smile. "Yes, I did, and I'm not seeing any eggs or bacon here. How disappointed am I allowed to get on day one?" Another wave of his phone indicated the screaming crowd. "I'm assuming that's for the Unicorn band, then? Definitely not for us." Maybe not yet, but he could hope for the future. Another band member - not from Flawed Hypnosis - had propped herself onto her suitcase and was attempting to wake up via energy drink. "Morning, new busmate." Really, he wouldn't be surprised if the groggy woman just scowled and ignored him, but there was no point in him being unfriendly if they were all going to have cramped quarters together for this long.
Mood: Excited, not admitting he's nervous Location: At the bus yard With: Juniper and Maxine Talking To: Juniper and Maxine Outfit: We'll go with this
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The promise of a free breakfast perked up one of Greg's eyebrows. "Well, I wasn't actually expecting free food from this, but if you're offering, I'm taking it. Oof--!" He didn't have time to continue the jest, as Juniper grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down the foot or so of height between them. His easy expression shifted into something more genuine as she talked about Flawed Hypnosis' music. He enjoyed the enthusiasm. It was one of the reasons he had confidence in this band, after all. Skills aside, the drive to keep playing, and the faith in their own music: that was what he'd been looking for in a group. The smile lasted until he heard the way Juniper ended her sentence. Then he snickered, and the back of one hand gave a playful tap on her arm. "Maybe we should focus on the music part first, and let the pretty faces come later. You're the frontmost face anyway, aren't you?" The other hand crammed his phone back into his pocket, and he straightened up as soon as she loosened the grip on his shoulder.
He listened to the small conversations that happened after that, amused at the “Bet they get eaten by the crowd.” quip from the Threefold Monkey member who had been nursing an energy drink. In another minute or two, it seemed Juniper had enough of the light conversation. She made a comment about heading onto the bus and barely gave any time for a response before hooking Greg's arm like they were about to do-si-do, pulling him along towards their new living quarters. Honestly, he'd have been fine hanging out there, just listening in on everyone, but she didn't seem to share that opinion. "Hold that thought a minute, June; at least let me get my stuff. I'd kind of like my clothes for the trip." He wedged free just long enough to pick up the ecclectically-decorated bag placed on the ground earlier. Well, he supposed they'd all get to socialize enough pretty soon as it was. The bus looked gargantuan, but it was holding what, a dozen of them? This was going to be a tight ship. “If we've got bunk beds, I'm claiming a bottom one right now. No one needs these big feet dangling down at them.” And he didn't like the thought of potentially rolling off a top bunk while they were driving, either.
One of the last things he saw before being dragged arm-first onto the bus was a commotion down at entrance. It looked like a fight had broken out. That wasn't an unseen thing for any rock-type event, but it struck him as unusual in a crowd staked out for a glimpse of cute Japanese metal. The really interesting part, though, was that security ushered one of the participants into the bus yard, rather than away from it. The man looked like a small mountain, a few inches taller than even Greg, and dismissed the blood from his nose with a few quick snorts. He introduced himself as Crash, the drummer for Drenched Unicorn. Well, maybe some of the group took their music more seriously than he'd been led to believe. This guy at least looked the part of a metalhead, or was eager to do so. How well the guy could play – well, Greg hadn't looked much into DU, to be honest, but he'd seen mostly a lot of flash in what he had witnessed. There was a curiosity of sorts hidden under his relaxed look. “Greg. Bassist: Flawed Hypnosis. Pleasure.” It was all he managed to get out before his shorter bandmate hauled him up the vehicle's steps. Whether or not meeting Crash was a pleasure, that would wait to be seen. At least Greg knew who not to risk ticking off right away. Not that he ever put work into ticking off anyone.
Mood: Kind of disappointed to be missing out on conversation, but in too good of a mood to mind much Location: At the bus yard, being forced onto the bus by Juniper With: Pretty much everyone Talking To: Juniper, a brief greeting to Crash Outfit: His usual
Once Juniper's grip loosed on him, Greg caught his footing up the bus's steps. “Okay, June, maybe you owe the rest of the band breakfast instead. You're not even waiting for them to show up?” One brow quirked up questioningly, then he took a few seconds to examine his surroundings. The front of the bus looked pretty much like any other, save it being taller and better kept. There was more to explore, of course, but he'd have to check out everything else later; he'd be spending enough time in the place soon enough. He shifted down the length of the bus, found rooms in the back for sleeping, and called back to her. “Looks like I'm right: bunk beds.” Judging from the number of beds per space, it seemed each band was supposed to split a room. The duffel bag on his shoulder dropped onto one of the lower mattresses. One hand slid his guitar case off his back, and he hovered it for a second or two over the narrow bed. 'Hmm. No. Too much potential for someone to flop on her.' Crouching, he checked the space underneath the bed. There was just enough room to slide the instrument there: much safer.
His exit from the room was temporarily blocked, as Crash stomped his way past with a girl Greg assumed was another Drenched Unicorn band member. Once the path was clear, he made his way back out in Juniper's direction. “Best get your bed choice in now, or you'll have to give an earful to whoever takes it.” Overall, the bus was still relatively empty, including of their other bandmates. However, Juniper was quickly approached by one of the other band's members: a slim younger man who wasted no time introducing himself to her. Greg was largely, if not entirely, ignored. Unflustered, his casual expression glanced between them, amused. Was this Finnian being genuinely cordial to Juniper, or was he showing a little...more immediate interest than was normal for a stranger? 'Haven't I seen you someplace before?' was a pretty cliché old pickup line, after all. “You're making friends already,” he told Juniper. “I'll leave you to it. I think I'll go see if I can hunt down any of our abandoned bandmates, if you'll both excuse me.” He grinned and scooted his way past the two, heading back towards the front of the bus.
The rest of the transport was devoid of familiar faces, but Greg made the trip back down the bus's steps and found Jacob hovering outside, with some of the same band members from before and an assortment of new arrivals. “Hey, Jake, you made it,” He called to his bandmate. "I was sort of whisked away for a bit, or I would've waited for you guys."His head indicated the direction back up into the bus. “Whenever you're done making friends, it looks like the bands have one bunk room each. My bag's already on a bed in our room - you can't miss it. I don't know if June's claimed a spot by now or not, but they're going fast."
Mood: Still in a good mood, even if he's not in the crowd anymore Location: On the bus, then sort of leaning out of the entrance With: Juniper, then Juniper and Finn, then Jacob Talking To: Same as above Outfit:Still in this
Greg nodded at Jacob's guess, acknowledging Juniper as the source of his vanishing act. “Who else? I guess one of us has to tow the line...and bandmates. At least I saved you the text in the end.” He gave a casual scoff at the drummer's comment about sleeping on the couch or floor. “Well, they better have enough beds for everyone, or this bus will be a war zone fast. Actually, I think I heard Juniper make a joke about a top bunk, so I guess that's one of each gone in our room. You still have your choice of top or bottom: problem avoided.” A couple female band members looked like they were heading over to load onto the bus: Drenched Unicorn, he thought, as he was pretty certain what little he'd seen of them had that miniscule member front and center on stage. He made a small hop off the edge of the steps to give the two space. Leaving the bus was counterproductive to getting everyone on, but he already had his gear loaded, and it wasn't like he was the only one out here.
The conversation with Jacob experienced a sudden interruption, as someone dashed their way off the bus and bumped into Greg's arm. He half-expected Juniper, peeved that her bandmate left her with a guy who was possibly making passes, ready to whisk away both him and Jacob this time. But, while the young woman he turned to face was also on the petite side, he didn't recognize the face. She wasn't a bandmate, and he couldn't recall her as any of the few other band members made familiar from publicity. So many new people. Maybe everyone should have worn name tags to save time. She stared back at him, then promptly faced the ground and apologized, turning pink. He waved off the issue with one hand, but Jacob spoke up before he could. "Greg....that was unusually high for you to speak! I didn't know you did ventriloquist acts.”
He tried not to laugh at that, as Jacob's tone seemed sincere. Instead, he gave the drummer an amused, funny look. “Jake, if I ever start bringing dummies on tour with me, you guys have permission to get my head looked at. I don't think I'm that weird yet, am I?” His attention turned back to the girl who had bumped into him. “Don't worry about it. With the tight quarters on this bus, it won't be the last time someone bumps into someone else. 'I'm so sorry,' might be, 'Move your butt' by the end of week one, especially if I keep standing around doorways. I'm no worse for wear, anyway...I don't think we've been introduced, though.” Okay, maybe he hadn't had a chance yet to meet to most everyone on this trip. That was kind of bad form for him. “Greg Stone, bassist for Flawed Hypnosis.” He indicated Jacob with one thumb. “The happy guy here with permanent bed head is Jacob, our drummer. Which band are you with?”
Mood: Social Location: Just outside the bus With: Jacob and a stranger (Stormie) Talking To: Same as above Outfit:Same as ever
His own introductions finished, Greg waited while the other musician paused, then introduced herself. “...My name is Stormie Haile.. I am the drummer for Rising Ravioli. I also respond to meme queen, but not really." His easy smile cracked a bit wider, both in greeting and at the joke. He didn't seem to register anything strange about looking up their new busmates, oblivious to how well-investigated the drummer probably was. “Well, you've got an advantage over me. I probably should've done more research before we left. It couldn't have hurt to at least know which band people are from, especially since you're all better known than us.”
Another pause, and Stormie readjusted and continued. “I'm actually a fan of your bass style.. from what I actually can hear of course. Sometimes I wish I could learn a stringed instrument." His expression didn't alter much, but he was a little surprised. Most of their work out in the public was probably bootlegged clips with less views than they'd like. Maybe there was enough out there for people to be familiar with Flawed's sound in general, but he hadn't expected praise on his particular style – and he assumed that small choice of material was what “from what I could hear,” meant. Processing that cost him any response to her wishing to learn a stringed instrument, which did strike him as odd for a moment. Wouldn't her bandmates at least let her pick around once in a while if she wanted?
"But from the few fan recorded performances I've watched, I like watching the heart that you put into your shows. Stupid I know... but it is fun to watch." Greg crossed his arms briefly, head tilting a little to one side. “Not stupid at all: probably one of the better compliments someone could give me, so thanks.” Okay, it was probably one of the best someone could give him. He was serious about his music, more so than a lot else, but he wasn't about to go into that with a brand new acquaintance who was probably just trying to be nice. He countered with another brief, wider grin. “Let's hope the crowd thinks that about the whole band, right? We could use the exposure.” He waited a beat, then shrugged. “And here I am, barely knowing anyone's faces! I've heard a bit of you guys' work, but I guess I focused on the sound as a whole instead. I'm sure you and the other Raviolis will knock everyone's socks off, but don't I look bad; I can't even return the compliment yet.” He pointed a couple fingers loosely in her direction. “Though I think I know who I'm going to pester if I forget anyone's name on this ride.”
Mood: Externally casual: probably more flattered than he's letting on Location: Just outside the bus With: Stormie and Jacob still Talking To: Stormie Outfit:Same as ever
“Will do,” Greg offered in response to watching the concert. He didn't seem to seriously consider Stormie's comment about her bandmates being the main attraction. Maybe a drummer didn't stand out on stage like a vocalist or the main guitarist, but try taking away that backup support and see how everyone does. Besides: being the only girl in a mostly guy lineup probably meant there were fanboys (and some fangirls) in the ranks somewhere. In regards to the pocket guide comment, he stopped for a moment to try and figure out how someone could make a “pocket guide” to learning all the band members on the bus. He wasn't coming up with a lot of ideas besides maybe notes with descriptions. Either way, “I think I might take you up on that offer. Twelve new faces is a lot to learn at once, even by my standards.” A new voice interrupted after that: a pale-haired man who greeted them and introduced himself as Threefold Monkey's vocalist. Greg raised his own hand up in response and greeted back. “Greg Stone: bassist for Flawed Hypnosis. Nice to meet you. I think only half the crew's even on the bus at this point, so you're fine.”
══════════════════ ~ A Skip of Times ~
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One concert down: how many to go? Greg didn't feel like counting right now. His intense-eyed Gore presence had only faded a short while ago into his laid-back, typical expression. He usually kept its focus until a performance was completely over for everyone, and the size of the crowd had put enough pressure to ensure that. But, 'Damn, what a crowd.' It had to be the biggest he'd ever performed in front of, and they'd been plenty into the music. That had only fueled Flawed's energy overall: maybe too much. Truth be told, their timing was off, too fast, but the audience had amped up even more in response. The last bits of adrenaline from the experience hadn't quite left his bloodstream. Removing his jacket and swapping T-shirts rid him of the sweat from the stage lighting, but the buzz of music and people still echoed in his ears.
Juniper interrupted that buzzing after a moment. “Man, we did great. Thanks for not ******** up guys...you really came through in the end.” “Heh. Any time. It was a hell of a show, wasn't it?” The band had all been booked into one hotel room for the night - not really even a step up from the bus, all things considered. The blonde vocalist popped up from her spot on the bed. “Let’s go get hammered guys...first round is on me as thanks for not messing up.” The suggestion was met with a grin and nod. “I'm game; I could use a few.” Normally, he was a decent sleeper, but he was far too awake for even thinking of rest. Greg didn't plan on getting completely wasted their first night on tour, but two or three might relax his mind enough. It was a step up from the dog biscuits she'd been teasing about earlier.
Finding the hotel bar was easy enough; all they had to do was follow the sound of music drifting through the main drag of the building. Entering the actual bar turned that drifting into a pounding. It drowned out whatever was still playing in his head from the concert. “Well, guys, what's everyone's first poison of choice?” He noticed a couple familiar faces near the back while they made their way through, and he caught Juniper's attention quickly. “Hey, if you're really paying the first round, get me a Jack and coke, alright? I'll be right back.” He picked his way through the tables to the back spot where he'd seen Micaiah join Stormie. “Hey guys, fancy seeing you here.” He gave a wave in greeting and indicated Stormie's book. “Funny place to come for a quiet read, isn't it? The rest of the pasta giving you a hard time or something?” A brief smile indicated that as a joke. “Good playing tonight, despite any quote-unquote, 'staying in the back.'”
His face actually turned more serious for a moment looking towards the Threefold vocalist. “Hey, sorry about you guys' set. That's a rough start: really sucks.” It wasn't often he outright winced while in Gore mode, but he had while witnessing that. As into the music as he was, watching someone's performance go so wrong was just painful. “Next time will go better, right?” It took him a moment to notice how well-dressed Stormie was and consider that maybe she and Micaiah had wanted to be alone together. “Well, I'll let you guys get back to whatever you were doing. I didn't mean to interrupt; the bandmates and I are just here for a few rounds ourselves.”
══════════════════ ooc: Oh look, Greg thinks he won't be plastered by the end of this. That's cute.
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Mood: Conversational pre-time skip | Still a little amped from the concert post, though sympathetic towards Micaiah Location: Outside the tour bus | In the FH hotel room | In the hotel bar With: Stormie. Jacob, and Micaiah | The whole Flawed band | Flawed + Stormie and Micaiah Talking To: Stormie and Micaiah | Juniper | Flawed crew, then Juniper, then Stormie and Micaiah Outfit:Totally out-dressed by his current company
Greg listened to most of Stormie's replies with casual amusement, though her comment about striving to blend into the background didn't settle too well on his face. He noticed a similar expression on Micaiah's. The vocalist gave a casual, “C’est la vie,” regarding the downward turn of their performance. Greg gave an approving nod. “Good attitude; I like that. It just means you get to impress all the better at the next one.” The remark about Sid's drumsticks earned a snicker. “Maybe the poor suckers got lost in a mosh pit once the Unicorns took over, and they forgot where they got the head injury.” His attempt to give them space set a couple different looks flitting across Stormie's face, as if she was determining how to respond. She settled on an even expression and a more cajoling tone than he anticipated. "Oh come on Greg. The birthday girl needs some eye candy for each of her arms." That did make him pause. “Now hold the line. There was not a birthday factored into this. That might alter things.” Drawn back to the table on Stormie's arm, the amused look on his face only doubled as the petite drummer whispered to Micaiah, then planted a quick kiss on Greg's cheek, receiving one from the vocalist and snapping a photo. With a flurry of fingers, she threw a comment and multiple hashtags along with the picture and posted it online. Greg leaned over to see what sort of mischief she was pulling the two of them into. Teasing is the mood of the evening, is it? He could do that, and the current enthusiasm on Stormie's face beat her trying to blend into the wallpaper. The pic was pretty darn cute, too.
“So, we're not going to take one the other way around, too, just to fuel the fire?” he responded with exaggerated, mock disappointment. Stormie asked him to invite his bandmates over, and Micaiah added his own agreement. Greg accepted the drink offered from the Threefold member with thanks, nodding in response to the other man's declarations. He held up his shot as a toast. “Absolutely! Happy birthday, Miss Stormie Haile: we're at your command. I'm afraid there's no blending into the background tonight.”
He downed the drink, the alcohol content seeming to shoot straight to his head. With a combined laugh and cough, he shot Micaiah a look. “Go straight for the lighter fluid, do you?” He slid his empty glass out of the way before addressing the man again. “You know, you'd imagine it would be more common, but I don't think I've heard that 'C’est la vie,' phrase of yours much since I was actually in France as a kid.” Why had that popped into his mind? The memory was over ten years old, an business stay his parents tried to disguise as a vacation. Greg's overbearing little sister had started a shouting match with a shopkeep in the broken French she thought she knew, until a local boy stepped in and smoothed things over. The apologies Greg and his older sister made were met with, 'C’est la vie.' 'Maybe it was the similar way Micaiah said it.'
“Well,” Greg said standing up. “If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to complete my first official birthday girl orders.” He picked his way through the crowded room to his bandmates. “Bit of a change of plans, guys.” One thumb indicated behind him, in the direction he came. “It turns out we have an impromptu birthday party starting up. I have a feeling free shots will be making their rounds for a while, and June: if the stuff keeps coming as potent as the one I just had, you'll hit your goal of getting hammered twice as fast as you think. Bring your drinks and get back there.” He shot them a grin before returning to the Stormie party table, giving the rest of Flawed Hypnosis time to receive whatever beverages they had ordered before joining in the fun. The Ravioli drummer received a small salute. “Okay, Stormie: first commands complete. Awaiting further instructions.”
He had just slid back into his seat when half of the Rising Ravioli band skidded up to the table. The blond vocalist dragged his bandmate up, slammed hands on the table, and screamed threats about the picture Stormie posted. Greg said nothing as the other man completed his tirade, fussed over his female bandmate, and forced babysitting duties on his bassist before storming off. Only after Finn left did he lean over towards Stormie. “If your goal with that photo was to distract him from your dress length, mission accomplished.” He didn't sound as intimidated as he maybe should be. It was more entertained than anything.
The Ravioli member assigned to guard duty gave an apology to them. After his own well-wishing and gift exchange with Stormie, he introduced himself before taking a seat. Greg shook his hand and scooted a bit to give the fellow bassist room. His tone was light. “Greg Stone, nice to meet you. We can absolutely see why you worry. Miss Stormie here is pretty dangerous, especially with the whole birthday girl thing making her queen for the night.” He indicated Micaiah and himself. “Afraid it's too late for us poor souls. We're obligated to follow her rules, and I've been coerced into bringing my whole band over as tribute. If this keeps up, we might have half the bar under her orders. Your Finn there might regret paying for the table.” Actually, paying for the entire table was an odd move, seeing how Finn just threatened two of them. Was that decision spur of the moment, a bribe, or a way to keep tabs on them: by literally keeping the tab? Free drinks made very nice bait, but how bad was the hook buried in them? Once the ordered drinks arrived, Greg finished his, but he caught the waiter quickly and ordered a round himself, quietly slipping some money over to pay for it. Maybe the 151 had gone to his head too fast, but he didn't feel like being completely under the other man's thumb all evening. Unfortunately, he requested them before Aemi mentioned not wanting to drink more, so the Tennessee Fire arrived with enough for each of them. He scooted Aemi's towards the middle of the table with an, “Oops, sorry about that. I'll take it if you don't want it,” then held up his dose of the hot cinnamon-scented drink. “It's not as potent as your firewater level, Mica, but I figured we'd need to middle-of-the-road to compare to the top shelf we've been handed. Cheers!” Already starting to feel the effects of the first two shots, he finished off the flavored one, too. Maybe he should take a page from Aemi's book and limit himself now.
Did Micaiah's 151 count as one drink or two?
---------
(ooc: A monster post attacks!) ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Mood: Buzzed, social, amused by the current minor shenanigans Location: At the bar With: Stormie & Mica | Juniper and Jacob/FH | Stormie, Mica, Aemi, and briefly Finn Talking To: Stormie & Mica | Whole Flawed Crew | Stormie Mica, and Aemi Outfit:Playing it casual
The taxi rocked back and forth in the stop-and-go traffic, and Poppy's head bobbed along with it. The city outside was new to her. She should be more excited to take in the view, but the thoughts in her head were about her destination, not the route. An international tour. Headlining an international tour. One moment, she wanted to clutch her hands and kick her feet like an excited child. The next, dread threatened to turn her stomach. She'd be performing in front of fans all over the world. This was an unbeatable opportunity. If she could prove herself on this tour, maybe more career options would present themselves along the way, or at least the first doors to them would crack open a hair. After all, she eventually needed one that would last longer than her baby face, right? It was a chance to shine, crash and burn, or fizzle out like her old self always had. She aimed for option one.
The commotion of a crowd drew her attention back to her surroundings. They were nearing the bus yard, weren't they? "Excuse me? Please pardon..." She leaned forward, towards the front of the taxi. While her Japanese accent was obvious, she thanked her studious high school years for a good handle on English. It would make the trip smoother, especially considering the...bus situation. A polite smile hid the concerns that thought gave her. “Thank you very much, but can you stop here, please? I will get out here.” If there was a crowd waiting, she could not let them see her show up in this beat up old taxi. They were probably expecting some sort of tinted-window limousine, and this vehicle was definitely not that. Poppy-Chan was better walking up out of the blue. The driver mumbled something, and the car coasted to the curb and stopped. She listened to the cost he gave for the ride. She was supposed to “tip” here, correct? She sat for a moment and determined what she thought was a correct amount, pulled the total from a wallet hidden in a pocket of her dress, and handed it to him with another thank you. The next formidable step was to unload her luggage. One large rolling trunk for her clothes was nearly as tall as her petite self, full of stage outfits on hangers, rather than wrinkled in bags. One heavy cross-body bag flopped against her torso, full of small gadgets and a plethora of personal care items. The final case, another rolling one, held mainly her own interests: her violin and flute were concealed in there, along with reading material (some she'd admit to more willingly than others), a few other assortments...and a very, very compact convection oven. Really, it was only a step above a child's Easy Bake. But she had realized there may not be a proper place to cook on the bus, let alone a private place, and baking always helped to relieve her stress. Even if she only made one muffin at a time, and even if she had to hide the oven in her luggage, it was coming.
Once the items were unloaded and wrangled, the taxi left. Poppy gave the rolling equipment a tug, then a hefty pull, to start them down the sidewalk. The effort earned a grunt from her chest. 'Kusō! They feel like they weigh as much as me.' Now she wanted to call the taxi back, but it was too late for that. Tiny arms hauled her equipment down the walk, towards the rising sound of cheers.
The crowd waiting outside the bus yard was large. Very large. Had someone leaked information? It didn't matter. These were fans, and if they came to see Drenched Unicorn, then so be it. Cheering cranked up to deafening levels once she came in view, causing a wince that she hoped no one caught. The sensory onslaught made her luggage feel even heavier, and the fans nearly swamped her before security took control. A pair of them relieved her of all but the crossbody bag. The two heavier pieces were dumped on the other side of the entrance, and the temporary release of that burden let Poppy muster up her best stage smile. She spent several minutes inching through the crowd, flanked by security while she signed autographs and was pulled into selfies with more eager members of the assemblage. 'These fans are very physical, aren't they?'Her right boot stepped in something slick, and she ventured a glance down. 'Blood? Oh. Oh, no.' She had a guess as to how that got there, and it put a new little pit in her stomach.
Once the gauntlet was over, she gave one last turn to the crowd with the same bright smile and an enthusiastic, yet polite, bow. “Thank you all very much for your support! We are excited for our performances on tour! Please come see us!”She was certain someone had swiped black tulle from her hat. Physical, indeed. Now all she had to do was haul her luggage the rest of the way without looking like an overburdened fool.
A small crowd hovered around the outside of her new home for the time being. Thankfully, this crowd was not as rabid as those she just survived. Well, maybe one or two. Her attention went to Junie and Crash first in the group, the only familiar faces. Crash's face looked like he'd recently had a nosebleed, and she sighed internally. Yes, blood suspicions confirmed. Hopefully whatever he did wouldn't haunt them for too long. “Ohayō Junie-chan, Crash-san!” Her smile was less stage-worthy and more pleasant as she gave them each a nod. Honestly, Crash terrified her at times, and she could never bring herself to address him in anything less formal than -san. Still, he and Junie were the closest things to friends she had for this trip, so she was grateful she knew somone. After that, she addressed the strangers, er, busmates. Should she bow? They were American and English, not Japanese. She was going to bow. It felt proper. “Ohayōgozaimasu – good morning! I am Poppy-Chan, the vocalist for Drenched Unicorn. Pleased to meet all of you; I am looking forward to our tour together.”
'...Well, I am looking forward to the concerts, at least.'
Mood: Excited to tour, but dreading the pressure Location: At the bus yard With: Everyone who is still outside the bus Talking To: Junie and Crash, then members of the other bands Outfit:This ensemble
Most of the musicians outside the bus seemed stuck in the awkward quiet mood of waiting, while others seemed eager to board the bus with minimal interaction. At least, that was what Poppy perceived. Whether her greeting was acknowledged or not, she could scarcely tell. It didn't matter; she made it, at least. Now she could move on to other things, like figuring out how all her luggage was going to be loaded. The bottom of the bus looked as if it had storage space, probably mostly taken up by the band gear and similar things. Hopefully she could wedge her case of costumes under there. She wouldn't need them until dress rehearsals at their first stop, anyway. Her second piece of rolling luggage, though: that had to get up the steps somehow. 'Maybe I can do it myself.'
The thought was interrupted as the last Drenched Unicorn member arrived like a whirlwind. Mimi's quick greeting to the other bands was followed up by a hug. Poppy nearly stumbled at the swiftness of it and barely had time to mutter, “Good morning, Mimi-chan,”before the guitarist was off again, also saying hello to Junko in her informal way. Poppy kept a pleasant face on until Mimi made the rounds to Crash, literally climbing the drummer like...like a monkey. Then her eyes went round against her will. 'Of all the people to have the courage to cling to like that.' She'd give credit to Mimi for bravery, but wasn't she making herself look a little silly in front of the other bands? Mimi followed the daring act by taking a swig from a water bottle, making it obvious it wasn't actually water in there, and offering it to Crash. 'Sanity save us.' The two made their way to the bus door, or at least Crash's moving meant Mimi along for the ride, and they vanished into the transport – not before the drummer offered a last comment. The heavy sarcasm wasn't lost on Poppy. “Make sure you make us look good, Oh fearless leader."
After this spectacle, that didn't even seem possible.
Poppy stood frozen for a moment in embarrassed, insulted shock. 'Idiots. We look like idiots, in front of everyone, in the first few minutes of arriving. Calm. Keep calm.' This wouldn't be the last time one of her bandmates did something mortifying on this trip, she was sure. Poppy would just have to maintain herself. She took a couple deep breaths, in and out. At the last one, she straightened up and readjusted, looking positive again. “Well, that's every one of us here,” she told Junko, grateful that at least one of her bandmates wasn't acting like a raging alcoholic. “We should find our spots on the bus, then, and put our luggage away. Are you ready to go?” She glanced at her rolling piece and gave a slightly sheepish look back up. “I may need some help bringing mine on board, if you don't mind.” Poppy wasn't the kind to ask for help, usually, but Junko's assistance was much preferable to looking like an idiot and struggling by herself. There was enough discomfort already. She waited for the bassist's response, then set off for the undercarriage of the bus. With some effort, she wedged a spot for her costumes in there before venturing to the actual steps up the bus. So steep. They looked a little daunting, if she was willing to be honest.
Mood: Mortified Location: Outside the bus, heading for the entrance With: Full DU crew, then just Junko and anyone hanging out outside the bus Talking To: Mimi, then Junko Outfit:This ensemble
Heading to the steps of the bus had included passing the friendly-seeming man who had introduced himself as the drummer for Flawed Hypnosis, and a gray-haired man who was partially blocking the entrance. Poppy had given the first a polite nod and smile as she passed, then waited for the second to hop out of the way.
Once the route was clear, her hesitation began about actually climbing the things. That was when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “I’ll help you… Let’s go.” Junko made quick work up the stairs and then offered a hand to the shorter vocalist. Poppy hesitated a moment. 'How childish will this look, accepting a boost up the steps?' She made a sort of internal shrug. At least the help was honest and not belittling. 'I can't look any sillier than the spectacle half our band already made.' She accepted the hand happily and hiked her way up into the vehicle, giving a final wave and smile to the crowd of fans just before.
“Thank you, Junie-chan. We should put our things away for now, shouldn't we?” 'Especially before everyone loads on and makes this place crowded.' That required a trip through the rest of the bus. Rolling the heavier piece of luggage Junko had assisted with, Poppy took in the common areas of the transport as they passed through, pausing once or twice. “It is nice, isn't it?” Actually, it was very nice at first glance, but It would be much nicer if there weren't sixteen people sharing all of it. That was the biggest issue Poppy foresaw with all this: privacy. She was accustomed to at least having her own bedroom. At least having a private space to vent or de-stress if needed. No chance of that, with so many people on board. Even if she locked herself in the bathroom once in a while, there would probably be a new person banging on the door every thirty seconds. 'Ugh. When do we reach the first hotel? Maybe we can have separate rooms there.'
Tugging her luggage through the rest of the way, Poppy passed by rooms occupied by other bands and a blonde female band member she hadn't met, who looked as if she'd been put into a very bad mood. She scooted cautiously around that and eventually found Drenched Unicorn's bedroom. “Junie-chan, I think we're staying in here.” Mercy, they were sharing bunk beds. She should've expected that. Crash and Mimi had already holed up in one corner of the room, gawking over what Poppy guessed was a stash of something she did not want any part of right now, nor was Crash interested in sharing anyway. She politely - and deliberately - gave them their distance and went to the empty beds. The one corner of the room had enough space to store her rolling luggage bag of personal belongings.
The remaining issue was which bed to take. The bottom was a typical option, closer to the ground and less effort to get into. 'On the other hand...' With her small size, and the height of the top bunk, that could be a decent place to actually hide a little when she needed to. “I think I'm taking this one,” she told the bassist. Climbing the ladder would be a pain when she was tired, but it would be worth it if she could at least get away from the chaos once in a while: maybe read in peace, too. Hopefully choosing the high-up bed didn't make Junko's help up the steps seem silly. This part didn't involve dragging luggage with her, so it wasn't as difficult. Poppy put her cross-body bag on the top bunk, and her hat. It was already sitting crooked after being grabbed at by fans. Then she clambered back down, waiting for Junko to pick a spot for herself before she continued. With Crash and Mimi occupying the one corner, she wasn't sure if she felt like sticking around the room too much just yet. The drummer had already caused one fight that morning. She was going to stick around Junko for now instead. “Is there anywhere else you wanted to see before the bus fills?” They could always take in the layout of the place before that involved shoving past too many people.
Mood:Just keep thinking positive thoughts Location: Entering/in the bus With: Mostly Junko, but also Mimi and Crash: passing by Jacob/Greg/Stormie/Juniper Talking To: Junko Outfit: Still this
The concert had been great for Drenched Unicorn. Not perfect: Poppy felt she had fallen a tad flat on a couple notes, and improvised once to cleverly hide a missed step in her dance routine. She chalked it up to nerves. The crowd had been enormous, and an extra nervous twist was in her stomach after Threefold's disaster was blamed on the sound technicians. She had spent precious prep minutes before DU's performance bustling about, asking the behind-the-scenes crew to make very, very, very sure that everything functioned properly for them. It had, much to her relief, and her bandmates had played their hearts out, too. If they missed any notes or beats, she wasn't about to say anything. She was in a good mood, if drained of energy.
A brief meeting with backstage pass fans absorbed time right after the concert: really, she wished they had done that beforehand, when she wasn't so tired and pink-faced. The pull of fans meant that she was one of the last of any band members to make it to their hotel room. As soon as she returned, she gave a brief greeting to her bandmates and commentary on their good show before swiping some essentials from her crossbody bag and locking herself in the bathroom. 'PRIVACY: at least a few minutes of it.' A relieved sigh escaped her, drowned out by the bathroom's automatic fan. She carefully dismantled her stage outfit, replacing it with a more casual one (casual was relative considering the wearer). A methodical face scrubbing routine removed the heavier makeup intended to be visible onstage, and she reapplied a more natural look. 'Much better.' She had cooled down and made herself much cleaner looking, but that also meant her solo time was over. She dreaded the cramped quarters that waited outside, so she thought for another moment and came up with an idea before she left.
Finally back outside the bathroom, Poppy took a moment to put away her makeup and skincare items in her bag before addressing her bandmates. “I wanted to thank all of you for your hard work at the concert tonight.” Maybe that sounded dumb and a little cliché. It was the best she could think of. “If you are all as hungry as I am, then I know food sounds very good right now – I would like to offer to pay for dinner for everyone. I am afraid I can't pay for drinks,” 'No way am I paying for what Crash-San and Mimi-San can drink combined.' “But it would be something to celebrate our first concert on the tour, yes?” There. That wasn't a bad plan. It might hurt her wallet, but it would get her and the others out of this room for a few hours. Even a crowded restaurant would be better than sitting and fiddling in the hotel room instead...and she was actually hungry.
After waiting for her bandmates' responses, and giving them time to prep if needed, she tucked her hotel key into her purse and made her way out the door and down to the ground floor of the hotel. There was a spot she'd looked up before arriving that was supposed to sell decent food – mostly American-style things like burgers and pizza. 'Oh, pizza sounds so good right now.' She would have to limit herself on that, though: couldn't gorge on the first day of touring. The sound of music grew louder as she neared the spot she'd memorized on the map, putting a concerned furrow in her brow. Soon enough, she was standing outside what could only be described as a bar. A very loud bar. 'Oh. Ooooh no.'
Mood: Tired from the concert | Appeasement | Slowly creeping dread Location: In the hotel room | Outside the bar With: Drenched Unicorn bandmates Talking To: Drenched Unicorn bandmates Outfit:Poppy, dear, this isn't casual
As usual for Karson, it had been an early morning. He was already slightly awake before his alarm went off. After giving it an unceremonious slap, he was dressed and out the door within half an hour. A short drive led to the auto shop his father owned, before anyone else arrived for the day. Karson usually opened the building before customers arrived, so he already had a key to let himself in and grab last-minute repair equipment from the gear he owned. They were stuffed into a worn toolbox in his old hatchback car, along with some other ones he'd packed from home. As the tour's official roadie, he'd been given a list of supplies provided to him for the job. It wasn't enough. Of course it wouldn't be; the list had clearly come from someone who looked up requirements online and scribbled notes. They worried so much about the actual tools, they forgot that things like spare wires were just as essential. His phone vibrated as he finished, and he pulled it out of his jeans pocket to see a text from Anya.
He checked the clock in his car out of habit while he replied. Was he actually running that behind? 'Naw, it's not that late yet.' Anya just won the early bird award.
With a final look at his workplace for the last five years running, Karson gave the auto shop a “so long for now” nod before heading off again. He'd initially been afraid asking to temporarily halt his job for roadie work, fearing it would be taken as a jerk move. Thankfully, his dad had been unusually understanding. The fact that Karson's cousin was in one of the bands probably made the difference. His parents had even agreed to check on the apartment a few times a week and pass along bill information until he returned. He wasn't about to turn down that kind of generosity from them while he got it, but he dreaded the work hours he'd have as restitution.
The second stop was a small grocery store on the corner for a few snacks: mainly prepackaged basics like jerky and granola bars. They probably had things provided on the way, but if the large group on this trip ate too much - or Karson got hungry at night at a hotel – his camping experience convinced him to have his own food on hand. It should have been easy in-and-out, but some old friend of the cashier held up the line with a long, far too long, conversation. “Oh, for crying out loud...” The five-minute stop became fifteen by the time Karson left. His phone vibrated again as he reached for the car door. One hand unlocked it and slung the plastic grocery bag to the passenger side; the other pulled his cell back out and read the new text from his cousin.
“Pffft!” Half his mouth curled up in amusement, and he continued one-handed tapping as he slid into the driver's seat and buckled in. The radio blared to life as he started up the engine and sent his reply.
Breakfast sounded damn good right now. Karson hadn't really eaten that morning; he'd planned on saving time with some of the snacks. As soon as he returned to the apartment, he headed to the food set aside for him. It was even nicely covered to try and keep it warm. “Hey, cous., I'm back. Thanks for the food. If you're ready to go, check if everything's off and unplugged. Don't need the place burning down while we're gone.” He made swift work of the meal, cleaned up his dishes, and checked that the stove was off before they left. Back down at the car, he pulled the grocery bag off the passenger side while he waited for Niss to get in, then set it back down on his cousin's lap. “Pick out what you want from that, 'kay? Call it payback for breakfast.”
…
“Aaaand it looks like we're here.” His phone's GPS directed him into the parking lot of a large, if undistinguished, hotel. The drive hadn't been too bad, all things considered. Maybe he had to do a little bit of lane maneuvering to speed it up, though. He glanced briefly over at his cousin before he focused on parking. “You wanna text Anya and let her know the double trouble's arrived?” His bags and toolbox were unloaded, the car locked, and he went to fetch his key from the front desk. “They said something about sharing rooms, didn't they?” He glanced down at his key, then tossed it up and caught it once. “Bet they've got you band members split up among yourselves. I wonder who they'd put as a roomie for a roadie, though. Probably whoever snores the loudest.”
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Wide awake, just trying to be prepped for the trip tabtabtabtabLocation: Driving around town | At the apartment | In the car | At the hotel tabtabtabtabWith: No one | then Niss tabtabtabtabTalking to: Niss | Texting Niss and Anya tabtabtabtabOutfit:This Setup tabtabtabtabPlaying on the radio:Fortunate Son tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Karson had a look of entertained excitement at the idea of the poolside meet and greet. “The pool, huh? No wasting time getting to the fun stuff. And I dunno; I think I'm more of the stray dog type myself: though maybe I have my rabid days.” Niss' suggestion of showing up without responding first earned a side glance from Karson that screamed, 'I'm in.'"So, you wanna crash a party we're already invited to? Sounds like my kind of plan. I knew we got along for a reason." Karson's phone buzzed soon after, and after noticing that it was the same text from Anya, he swiped it off his screen. Another toss of the key, and he pointed towards the hall. "I'm not dragging all my crap down to the pool. I don't need to unpack, but I'll need about thirty seconds to throw my things down and change first. If you're not rooming with Sage, just throw a hissy fit to the desk. A hotel full of rock stars: someone's got to give them a little drama eventually." He grinned.
Actually arriving at the hotel suite - nice: he wasn't expecting a full suite - It looked like a few bedrooms branched off from the main living area to be divvied up. He found the one for him to share, with no sign of his roommate yet, and quickly used his luggage to claim a bed space. A quick change of clothes, some sunblock to protect his tattoos, and he was ready to go again - the only temporary distraction being a text from Faye about not being able to find anyone. "Race you to the pool, Niss!”he called as he caught up with his cousin afterward. Of course, maybe he didn't win that race; he headed down the wrong hallway one time on the hotel's main wing and ended up at a dead-end.
Once he actually arrived poolside, most of the faces there were unfamiliar: a couple girls, a guy or two, some preschooler who looked like she'd just tripped - he decided it was best not to get involved in that. There were a couple concerned faces around her, and him waltzing up as a male stranger might set off a wrong impression to the crying girl. Eventually he'd get to know all these people, if they were all part of the tour, but for now there were only a couple people he actually knew. "What's up, guys?" He greeted Sage and Faye in a shaded corner of the area and dropped his towel and sunglasses on a nearby chair. "I see you got Anya's text, too. Faye, looks like the hide-and-seek's over - this is an easy way to get everyone in the same place, isn't it? Speaking of which..." His face grew puzzled for a moment, and he glanced around. "Is she not here yet? I would've thought she'd be first in the pool, and it's totally empty. Man, if she sends out that text and ends up the last to show, she's gonna be pissed. She was probably hoping to beat us all down here."
... Seriously, was no one was in the pool yet? Was there some sort of manners thing happening? Were they waiting for everyone to politely show up first?
[******** that.' If anyone was hesitating on being the first in the water, he'd go ahead and solve that personally. Karson made quick work heading to the nearby deep end and jumping straight in, legs first. The chlorinated water hit him with a cold shock and nearly pulled the breath out of his lungs. After a few seconds to adjust to the sudden temperature change, he came up for a breath, balancing on the side of the pool with his arms as he wiped the spare water off his face. "Whoa, it feels like they threw a truckload of ice in here!" Despite that, he didn't look eager to leave; it had been a long time since he'd had a chance to go swimming, and he kind of missed it. He was still within conversation distance of everyone, anyway. "So, what is this meet-and-greet thing Anya texted about? Is this for everyone on the trip to get to know each other, or to get press out on the bands?" It didn't matter to him one way or the other, really. It was an excuse to hit the pool and hang out at the same time.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Friends + pool? He's in a good mood. tabtabtabtabLocation: Hotel lobby | Hotel bedroom | At/in the pool tabtabtabtabWith: Niss | Faye, Sage, and everyone else at the pool tabtabtabtabTalking to: Niss | Faye and Sage tabtabtabtabOutfit:Swim Gear tabtabtabtabMusic:None RN tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
The evening scarcely begun, all Ilina wanted to do was sigh. Well, perhaps not: what she truly wished was to saddle up the fastest horse in this place and ride away, ride until she was back home and somewhere familiar. That was unfortunately not an option. Most of them involved in the actual betrothals had looked less than pleased at the prospect, being honest, and she assumed those who didn't were putting on a brave face. She'd been doing the same all day. Her father and his ideals were depending on her...or so she told herself to keep her nerves calm. She was representing the entirety of Macedonia, after all. While she hadn't looked particularly ecstatic while the now-engaged couples were announced, she had made her best effort not to look miserable. As for her fiance, she wasn't sure if he had even bothered to look at her. He'd quickly distanced himself after that, and Ilina felt she had to work up courage a bit if she was going to try to be the first to speak. At least his distance made the thought of sharing a house with the unfamiliar man a little less intimidating...only a little.
Now, they were all left to their own devices in the soiree, and she was keenly aware of the lack of familiar voices around her, despite the conversations she'd been pulled into. Having arrived on her own besides a couple maids, any questions about Macedonia and its part in the agreement were directed at her. She handled them as best as she could. Her brother had sent an apology instead of himself; he had to stay home to care for their ailing father and the business he couldn't handle in his current state. The thought made her give a nearly silent sigh as she listened to yet another stranger speak. 'If this marriage idea is going to do any good, hopefully he doesn't drink himself to death before that happens.' As if on cue with that thought, she sipped at the glass of wine she had grabbed from the refreshment area, At least the type of crowd here meant that the wine offered was of good quality. She grew up surrounded by wine country and knew the difference; the familiar taste gave her something to cling to for the moment while she struggled past language barriers and her wish to simply find more solitary space. Her actual mask for the event was held in the other hand - there was little point hiding her face when everyone here had come to see it, she supposed.
Trying to feign engagement in the talk around her, she noticed that one of the ladies who had entered into the group was another of the betrothal victims, clad in a rather low-cut white dress. "Oh, pardon, but you are the chosen fiancee from Switzerland, yes?" Perhaps the sentence came out oddly: language barrier again, plus the struggle to determine how to actually label all of them in the collective betrothal group. "I am Ilina Mistreski from Macedonia. It is nice to meet you." She tried to not make an obvious look up and down of the other's outfit, her expression reserved but hopefully friendly enough. "I think I am the only engaged woman I have seen tonight not in a white dress. I feel I have made a poor wardrobe decision for the night." Actually, the pink and red she was wearing hadn't been her choice at all: it was her father and brother's attempt to "Westernize" her outfit a for the masquerade while still hinting at the scarlet that so often marked Macedonian traditional wear. They had been afraid a full, flashy red would send the wrong image of the bride-to-be.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Attempting to be social, but not happy to be here tabtabtabtabLocation: Mingling in the crowd tabtabtabtabWith: Many strangers and the fiancee from Switzerland tabtabtabtabTalking to: Same as Above tabtabtabtabOutfit:Masquerade Outfit tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
The Swiss fiancee - Lorna, as she introduced herself - seemed eager to speak, mostly about nerves and uncertainties being around the upper class. Ilina's mood relaxed a little at the other woman's admissions and the honesty behind them. She didn't quite shrug at the comment about not smiling so wide, but the gesture came close. Her own expression became less tight and forced in response. "The trick is to show just enough of your true colors to determine who is friendly and who might be false." She took another sip of her wine. Lorna seemed like the kind who was lacking pretenses. No wonder she was concerned about this crowd; given the political nature of the matches and the feigned joy perfect strangers made over them, pretenses were too common.
The blonde seemed about to reply to Ilina's comment regarding her wardrobe, but she was interrupted by a man flinging his jacket over the other woman's shoulders. It was a surprisingly casual action, and one she'd assume meant they were familiar with each other, but Lorna's reaction proved the opposite. The man stuck around long enough to compliment Ilina on her outfit, apologize for interrupting, and introduce himself as Tiitus from Estonia. Then he was off. She barely had time to give her own name in response. 'That was confusing.' Maybe she should be grateful the stranger left in such a hurry; she hadn't exactly been fishing for compliments, just talking, and she didn't feel like having to play modesty or conceit by discussing her outfit too much. He refused Lorna's protests and left the woman with his jacket as a cover against cold and the immodesty of her low-cut dress. Lorna pulled the jacket around her and continued. "White dresses aren't all that wonderful. I wasn't a fan of wearing this tonight. But my father wasn't a fan of me coming here in my armor and a sword. I mean I still managed to sneak my sword and some daggers tonight but I feel so exposed." Ilina's face shifted into surprise, though the other half of the conversation didn't seem to notice. She finished with some jape about her fiance running away that Ilina didn't quite catch. "I'm sorry... did you say sword and daggers?" Ordinarily she would take a comment like that, from a lady in a place like this, as a joke. But Lorna did not seem to be jesting.
They were soon joined by the Swiss woman's fiance, Rather flashily dressed, he joined the group with a nod before addressing Ilina. "Задоволство да ви се исполнат, моето име е Emon. И вие сте?" There was already enough of a surprised look on her face to avoid much alteration at that. "Илина Митрески. На сличен начин. Вашиот македонскиот е изненадувачки добро."'Ilina Mitreski. Likewise. Your Macedonian is surprisingly good.'What on earth an Italian was doing with conversational Macedonian, she couldn't imagine. The language had small usage, mostly her immediate home region, and with the Turks controlling Macedonia right now... they weren't even considered their own country at the moment. He had slid in and used it without issues to, in the manner of someone accustomed to doing so, rather than someone excited to make use of some previous study. It was a curious thing, and she wasn't sure if that was in a good way. At least the vast wealth of linguistic knowledge he so willingly displayed, also speaking to his own fiancee in her native tongue, might serve to make conversations a bit easier. She considered his question about preferred language over another sip of wine. Maybe the glass was proving to be a sort of comfort method: something to focus on besides the conversation without seeming rude. "I can speak enough Bulgarian and Greek. A scattering of the Slavic languages all around. My English and Russian... limited, but there." Most of the latter two had more to do with helping her brother take over their father's work as he grew. With the wide variety of representation in the banking industry, learning multiple language was a boon for him - and she mostly absorbed through helping him study. She wouldn't have considered herself fluent in any of them, though. Truth be told, she had never foreseen a need to use the knowledge.
She had sensed another person joining the group but not had time to look over to them. She did, however, catch the low words that were uttered close to her side, apparently intended for her. "Why hello beautiful, i'd like to know where your villa is." The composure she had managed most of the evening slipped enough into a mix of shocked disgust as her head snapped over to face one of the other engaged men - the one from Romania. 'Was he serious? Did he seriously just say that?'What on this planet kind of thing was that to say to a stranger - an engaged stranger, no less, and especially when she was aware you were also engaged? From the look on her face, he may as well have spit in her wine, and she felt a revolted chill in her back. "I'm sorry, Sir. I haven't even seen the home my fiance and I are sharing yet. I suggest you find the building you will be living in first instead of asking ladies to take you to theirs." Unlike his lowered volume, she replied in one loud enough for common conversation, tone flat and cold. She wasn't going to enter into a hushed conversation with him. 'And person number one to avoid in this place...' She determined to ignore the Romanian, though the situation became more complicated when her own fiance arrived from his personal seclusion. He bumped into the other man in what was clearly more of an accident than any attempt to be chivalrous about the situation. This was bound to go down as one of the most peculiar evenings in her life.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: From polite conversation to just plain disgusted tabtabtabtabLocation: At the masquerade, mingling tabtabtabtabWith: Lorna, briefly Tiitus, Emon, Damain, and Zakhar tabtabtabtabTalking to: Lorna, briefly Tiitus, Emon, Damian tabtabtabtabOutfit:Masquerade Outfit tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Ilina considered the replies from her current conversation partners. Lorna was serious about the swords and daggers thing – and even gave a glimpse of a blade's hilt beneath her dress to prove it. Curious, indeed. Almost as curious was the long language explanation Lorna's fiance provided regarding knowing Macedonian. Just the business portion might have sufficed; the same reasoning applied to her own scattering of linguistic knowledge and her brother's even greater grasp on it. “Caution isn't surprising, just that Turkish usually is more common for businessmen.”
Come to think of it, didn't Italy have some sort of monarchy in place? This Emon had not claimed any royal title. To be powerful enough to be representing his country here despite that...she was gathering what kind of business he probably worked in. It was not something Ilina's family had likely experienced, at least on the giving end instead of receiving. The Bulgarians wanted Macedonia as part of them, the Greeks claimed they were Greek, and the Turks continued to grip the region in their Empire. Her family may have been one of the financially best off of in her culture, but they were used to playing around the game instead of deciding the rules.
She had little time to think more on the conversation once Damian arrived. It seemed everyone in the company shared her dissatisfaction at his inappropriate methods. What she hadn't expected was the way the situation devolved beyond that. Damian actually insulted and threatened her fiance for merely bumping into him, as a first. Upon hearing the Romanian's initial words to Ilina, bubbly Lorna erupted into angry declarations, proving herself as the religious warrior status mentioned earlier with a backflip and drawing her rapier. Ilina didn't understand the threats and declarations the Swiss woman shouted in her native language, but they sounded serious enough. Instead of any de-escalation, the Romanian threatened right back. Lorna whisked her fiance away afterwards, not before Emon made his own threat at Damian. Ilina figured she should be thankful she started things off on the right foot with the pair, though she couldn't help but feel Lorna's religious warrior reputation might be tarnished by the quick exit. Still, her interest was piqued. She learned how to hold a sword, a while back, though she had spent the time afterward trying to avoid most of those memories...she avoided most memories when they involved that ex-fiance of hers. But knowing how to defend herself seemed a practical idea so far from home. Maybe Lorna could give her some pointers.
Damian seemed to get the hint that his methods were not achieving success, and he left with a comment as if he actually thought Ilina would seek him out. She barely glanced in his direction as he left, just to make certain he was really gone. It was a shame, really. Romania was an ally of Russia's, and won its own independence after supporting them against the Turks. But if he had any intentions of representing his country to people who should be allies, he had just shot himself in the foot instead. “Човек не може да се изгради мост со лопата. Ќе се копа само себе си под вода.” she mumbled the old adage of her father's, though she was certain there was no one left around her who spoke Macedonian. A man cannot build a bridge with a shovel. He will only dig himself underwater. Ilina examined the bottom contents of her wine glass and wondered if the other representatives from Romania were more pleasant to deal with. That was more for her brother and father to handle, though. She would do fine without the whole lot, so far as she was concerned. The rest of the evening was spent in more quiet conversation, both with her fiance and whatever Russian and English they managed to piece together, and the Moldovan betrothed, who introduced himself. “My English and Russian are about the same,” She replied. “Take your pick.”
Once the ball was over, and the couples retired to their respective homes, Ilina felt the nerves tighten that she had fought all night. Housing the couples unmarried together was a stretch enough – the Conclave expected them to share a bed right away, too? Heaven give her strength. Well, she wasn't stripping in front of a stranger, engaged or not. Without trying to make a big show of it, she decided to at least change into her night clothes in a separate room. That had been when one of her maids came to tell her Gavril had arrived. That had been the best highlight of that evening, even if his avoidance regarding their father's health made her worry.
╠═══════════════════════════╣ TIME SKIP
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Twelve days. Ilina was not sure if it had felt like a long time, or a short one. So far from her own country, and with so little familiar around her, sometimes the days felt painfully long. She spent her time split between as many things as she could handle. Managing the villa turned out to be an easy task for her; she had already done so for her father's home and staff in Macedonia, and the villa was simply an adjustment of the same. She and Zakhar had a basic relationship so far, when he wasn't holed up in his study. Maybe nothing couple-wise, but they had yet to fight about anything. Both of them needed work on their foreign languages, though, which formed a bit of a barrier. At least her Russian was slowly improving out of necessity. Her English was getting better, too, thanks to the friendships she'd managed to form. She had grown much closer to Lorna and Fi, the feisty Finnish fiancee*, over the past week or so. The former's lively personality and the latter's informal sass had helped her own mood relax. She had asked Lorna to teach her some blade skills, as well. The Swiss maiden seemed to think it was to ward off the, “Demon-possessed Romanian,” but really Ilina just wanted to force herself to learn more. Lorna's intended sometimes joined in on the lessons, though Ilina usually excused herself when the two of them started sparring each other: too intense for her current skills and taste, and too into each other for her to feel right standing there.
As for the other betrothed individuals, she found a mixed bag in them. Seb had locked himself into close friendship with Fi – Ilina found him friendly enough. She avoided Damian as much as possible for obvious reasons, not always easy with Fi* being his fiancee. She hadn't interacted much with Tiitus, but his brash, outgoing swaggering from the first evening seemed in line with his usual self. Gavril had befriended the man's teenage sister and the sweetheart Pascale from the stables, so any of Ilina's worries about him were lessened. The other two remaining ladies in the betrothal group, Ilina didn't know as well. Ema, Seb's fiancee, was incredibly shy. Even finding out her name had been secondhand. As for Hil, she seemed friendly enough, but there was a sort of tightness to her smiles that Ilina's business experience wasn't sure about. She was the only other individual here who played an instrument, though.
The multicultural festival finally arrived. She had been one of the members most interested in managing the event; it seemed a priceless opportunity, and it gave her an excuse to bring some comforts of home for at least an afternoon. Breaks in planning and handling the day were spent playing tunes on the strings of her tambura while Gavril sang along, and even a couple pieces on her gajda bagpipes. She had taken in the other countries' sights – she'd sampled food (and asked Lorna for one of her recipes in return for some of the Macedonian fare she'd organized). Elise had shown off some Estonian culture. Ilina hadn't recognized most of the tunes Hil played on her violin, except one, which she quietly accompanied with her tambura from the sidelines.
But the best part of the day had been when Gavril actually agreed to show off some Macedonian dances with her. It had always been a favorite hobby of hers, dancing. And even though it had only been a week, she was thrilled to be moving to the familiar tunes of her land. For a moment lost in the rhythms, she forgot that she was in a crowd of strangers. For a moment, she swore she was under a Macedonian sun, just a teenager as little Gavril tried to keep up with her more advanced steps. The tambura playing was her father's, in the open air behind their house, and Clement and her father's guests were clapping along instead of the audience in front of her.
For just a moment, she was home.
The festival eventually ended, though, and the activities came to a close. Passing by the now-closed security gates, Ilina noticed her brother somehow managed to get on the opposite end of them. She asked them politely to let him in and received a negative. Something about the couples only being allowed without special permission. One hand found its way to her hip. “That is bad news. The Conclave told us we would need help with the lanterns and ships, and our relatives are the most trusted help.” The tone she took was less actually defeated and more like a mother about to ground a child. “If one of you is kind enough to go tell them of your decision... Now I am afraid of being locked out if I do.” It only took a bit more convincing before the guards decided arguing with her wasn't worth it and let Gavril through. Once out of sight of the gates, she gave him a playful shoulder shove in the direction he had wanted to go along with a knowing wink. “Задржи надвор од проблеми, Gav, или тоа ќе биде мене што се впушта во тоа.”Keep out of trouble, Gav, or it'll be me that gets into it. Wandering back another route towards the lakeside, she came across the trio of Fi, Pascale, and Seb. Fi was saying something to the French stablehand. Ilina missed most, of it, but she heard one important word and leaned into the conversation with a smile. “Tell me I did not hear the word, 'dance' mentioned with no intent of me being present for it.” *Officially heretofore known as Lady F, the ******** feisty Finnish fiancee of fire and fabulousness.
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The next few minutes didn't go entirely smoothly, but they could have fallen apart worse. Perhaps. Zakhar agreed to help hand out the lanterns and went off to sort them out of the wagon. “Спасибо,” she thanked him, and joined in the sorting and handouts once things were more organized. Seb and Ema volunteered their help and earned a, "Thank you," as well, but in English. As for Tiitus, he had reached his boiling point. GIving a not-quite-shouting outburst to Hil, he plowed through the group and headed off on his own. Whether he was going to check on his sister after all or blow off steam some other way, she didn't know. The commotion caught her attention, but she said nothing as he stormed away. It wasn't her place, and he seemed to be at his emotional threshold. If anyone tried to stop him, it would be akin to leashing an angry animal.
Once he was gone, that truly did leave them to managing the lantern event themselves. The Estonian siblings put the most effort towards it, too. 'It seems a shame neither is actually around to see the results of their work.' But knowing the way the Conclave worked, the whole event was a 'use it or lose it' situation. The back of her mind remained concerned for Elise, emphasizing with the fears of an older sibling worried about a younger one. But she also didn't see Elise as the kind to want vague acquaintances fussing over her.
Those thoughts processed while they handed out the lanterns. She hadn't needed to do much with sorting; Zakhar had made surprisingly quick work of most of it. With him, and Seb and Ema's volunteering, she was grateful at least that her keeping things running hadn't come across as thoughtless to everyone...and for the willing assistance. Eventually, Elise's handiwork was passed out, and all that was left was for Ilina and Zakhar to take their own. Did they seem to have a couple extra? She shot her fiance a questioning looks once she counted out the ones that remained for them, but said nothing directly about it as they headed to their boat.
Their transport was a small two-oared rowboat, waiting against one of the docks. She gave it an examination with a slight tilt of her head. Officially, this was her first time actually seeing one of them up close, and she'd certainly never been in one before. She was pretty sure she couldn't even swim if she fell out. She crouched to place the lanterns she was holding onto the bottom of the boat, giving the gunwale a shove down to see how stable the whole thing was. Not that she doubted the craftsmanship, but tipping over was a genuine concern considering her non-swimming status. How did one even get in the thing without falling out? She looked over at Zakhar. “Truth time. Вы знаете что-нибудь о boats?” 'Do you know anything about boats?' Heck if she knew the Russian word for boats. She wasn't that fluent yet. A wave of the hand indicated the oars and related material, specifically. “Я ничего не знаю.” 'I know nothing.'
OOC: Extra lanterns is canon now. Illie is Jon Snow and knows nothing. Yes, I looked up the word gunwale. Sue me. tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Keeping level-headed/curious yet wary about the boat situation tabtabtabtabLocation: Dockside tabtabtabtabWith: Zakhar and the other couples tabtabtabtabTalking to: Zakhar + Seb and Ema in thanks tabtabtabtabOutfit:Festival Time! tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
At the end of things, it turned out neither Ilina or Zakhar knew a bit about boating. After the pair wobbled onto the floating transport, Zakhar gave his best effort to row them out to the lake's center, as per the festival's plan. It was slow going. Having no advice or anything to provide for the situation, Ilina just focused on keeping upright in the boat and not thinking about every time it wobbled or rocked. She couldn't entirely complain about the slow pace. Slow and easy meant she managed to keep her composure coasting across the water in the growing dark. Her mind was still reeling internally, wondering how Gavril was faring with Pascale and Elise, and what exactly had happened between her younger brother and the unconscious Estonian. By the time the boat coasted in to join the other couples', most participants were already in the process of their own lantern lighting.
She'd intended to let Zakhar light the majority of their lanterns, as a thanks for the dance earlier and helping keep things moving after the Elise incident. She was more interested in watching them once they were floating, so she wouldn't mind. “It's probably the closest someone can come to touching a star, right?” she'd offered. However, he was of the same opinion in regards to watching vs. lighting, and he'd given a brief missed-the-point explanation in broken English on the differences between small lantern fire and an actual star. Her brows had arched up by the time the statement completed. “Well.” They eventually split the lighting more or less evenly. Watching the glowing finished products drift up to join the others hovering over the water did make a pretty spectacle, once everything was said and done. And peaceful.
After sitting on the lake's surface so long, she was feeling a little braver about the boat situation and asked if she could try rowing on the way back. After all, when else would she get a similar chance to try something like it? She sat herself in the spot between the oars, asked Zakhar, “Любой совет?” and given it her best shot. 'Ack.' The weight of pulling against the water's tension came as a shock. The low grunts she gave as she tried to get herself into a rhythm (and not steer them in circles) were decidedly unlady-like, but eventually she got the hang of it. The tiring, struggling hang of it, but they were moving forward eventually. 'Проклето. Was the lake always this wide across?' She paused from rowing 2/3 of the way back. She needed a break. Her shoulder muscles ached, and her arms felt limp and weak from the physical effort. The lake's edge was visible, not too far off, and she peered through the dark as thoughts about the chaos following the festival came back. She was pretty happy with how she had handled things, all things considered. Watching Gavril take off to care for the fainted Elise, her own need to keep everything moving once the chaos of that settled in, actually braving this whole boating thing... she'd kept her calm up to this point. But something occurred to her as she watched the lakeside, exhausted and knowing at some point she had to restart and fumble their way back to it. A low chuckle started in her throat, then grew until it shook her shoulders. 'This is ridiculous. All so ridiculous.' She had to bend over as the laughter took over. “All this planning,” she finally mumbled in English through the laughter, not even caring how much was understood or lost in translation. “All this planning, with homes, and festivals, and lanterns, and no one in the Conclave asked, 'Can anyone row a boat?'” She covered her mouth to restrain the tear-inducing chuckles as the day's strain finally released. “We could drift to the other side of the lake: goodbye, gone! With no one checking. We could be too tired and be stuck here all night.” They were already close to that point, anyway. Zakhar offered something about swimming to shore to get a rope if needed, and she waved off the suggestion with her free hand. “Oh, no!” She wasn't volunteering to be left alone on this drowning device, even if it was an attempt to help. Once she regained her composure, she gathered up the remainder of her upper body strength and completed the task of getting them back to land. It took too long, but they made it.
--------------------------------------------- The power of time skip compels you ---------------------------------------------
Maybe vanishing in the horizons of the lake didn't happen, but the following day did indeed bring some disappearances. Lorna and Emon were gone, a note left on their villa door about eloping early. Tiitus was gone, too, only without a word and definitely without his fiancee. Ilina had her own reservations about the man dumping his ill sister and taking off without a word just becausehe was frustrated – she'd assumed when he stormed off that that he was heading back to check on Elise – but she mostly kept those opinions to herself. She received little more information from Gavril after managing to corner him. He kept explanations vague on purpose and buttoned up entirely when asked if he and Elise were actually in any sort of relationship. And then, there was the Pascale thing. The only part Gavril had been more open about was how big of a help Pascale had been, and how unexpected his skills helping around the house were. “Are you joking, or distracted?” A confused look came over Gavril's face as he returned her stare. “Pascale's a girl. You know that.” Her brother's face went white, and he seemed only halfway conscious the rest of the conversation. 'Had he actually thought Pascale was a boy?' Considering the look on his face... She decided not to push the subject once he got that startled deer stare. She had to ask enough favors from him, anyway; she and Zakhar were both suffering from exhausted arms after the previous night's boating. She'd been making jokes all morning about learning to function with her feet. In lieu of demanding more answers from Gavril, she roped him into assisting with small things her own weary arms didn't want to do.
Later in the week, she took a break from the villas to sneak a day trip into town with Pascale and Fi. The stablehand was actually able to dress more feminine for the outing, Ilina noticed. The day in town ended with a few drinks at a bar tended by Pascale's friend Anezka. The “Few drinks” were apparently a few too many for Pascale. The French girl ended the day unsteady and more talkative than she probably intended to be. Somewhere in the conversation, she ended up confessing to Ilina that she had feelings for Gavril. Ilina's response had been cautious, but not a complete denial. Really, her heart went out to the stablehand. She was a sweet girl, dedicated and honest. But she was also several years older than Gavril, an age difference society usually preferred to be the other gender around when it happened. Then there was the obvious different in social station, not to mention Ilina's uncertainty on Gavril and Elise's relationship. In the end, she hadn't completely deterred Pascale as might have been appropriate, but she had encouraged caution. No one could stop another person from catching feelings, but Ilina's own advice was to try not to get carried away by them. At the end of the evening, she helped Fi drop off Pascale at the cottage shared with Dragan, wondering how much of the conversation Pascale would even remember the next day.
Ilina had spent the day of the storm inside. She didn't feel like venturing out into the steady rain that pattered on the windows as soon as the sun rose, and there were always things to do indoors. Her tambura had been slightly neglected since the festival, so she took the time to practice old songs and fiddle with a few new. There were correspondences to write, as well. At the end of the evening, she had slipped onto the couch for some reading before bed. Outside came a loud growl of thunder. Her head perked up to glance out the window, then returned to her book. There was a second rumble. A third came, but it wasn't from outside; this thundering was the familiar sound of Gavril bounding down the back steps of the home. He flashed past the entryway, and Ilina heard the sound of the front door opening, letting in the sound of deafening rain outside. 'He can't possibly think he's going to--' Her brother dashed back again the other way, without fully shutting the door, and Ilina became suspicious. She put her book down and was there at the entry when he returned tugging on his travel coat. “Gav, what do you think you're doing?”
Gavril barely paused to look at her, not reflecting any of the concern that was growing in his sister's face. “I have to go check on Marija.” Ilina's arms crossed tightly. “Don't be ridiculous. It's pouring out there, and look at the lightning.” A bolt flashed as if to emphasize her point. Gavril just shrugged. “I will go fast. The lightning has better targets.” Ilina could feel frustration getting the better of her and moved to block the door with her arm, but her brother ducked past before she completed the motion, bolting into the blinding rain. “Gavril! You're going to get yourself killed!” He turned to face her again, examining her briefly. Gavril's arms extended out from his sides to display his outfit. “I have my coat, and it isn't even cold outside. It's not the same. I will be fine.” A new flash lit up his face as he grinned and ran off, and Ilina stopped only a couple strides into following them. She saw that same smile on a woman's face in her memory, surrounded by cold rain and sleet. A young boy with curly brown hair played around her legs. “Our children are strong,” the woman told their father, half-lifting the boy by his arms as if to show him off. “This weather will not hurt them. They will be fine.”
Ilina came to as the wind blew some of the driving rain into her face. Her brother was long gone in the dark, and she ducked back under the doorway to avoid getting soaked for no reason. “По ѓаволите.” She raked one hand through her hair and shook her head. "Проклето. Тој е ист. Токму истото. Целосно невнимателен. Тој никогаш нема да научи. Тој ќе биде убиен. Еден од овие денови, се колнам дека само ќе се убие.” She shoved the front door closed and headed to the closet that kept the coats. Her hand went halfway to her own coat, hanging beside Gavril's empty hanger, then stopped. Maybe she shouldn't chase after him. At this point, he was probably halfway to the stables: if he could even see well enough to make it there. Hunting him down and dragging him all the way back to the house...that sort of defeated the purpose.
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Relief and nerves ran through Gavril's gut as his bay gelding Rid reached the Conclave's little village: relief that he finally arrived, half a day late and in the dark, and nerves of uncertainty over what he would find. This whole idea still made his skin crawl. He could never imagine asking Ilina to enter into an arranged marriage; in fact, it was uncharacteristic for their father, too. Whatever condition he was in, their father always put his family first, always. Housing her with an unfamiliar man and then marrying her off: how did that put Gavril's sister first? Maybe it wouldn't have happened if she would throw a proper fit to their father... his face scrunched recalling that familiar, unyielding expression she made when she agreed to it instead. Gavril hadn't even been able to join her in the long trip here, and she had spent the first crucial evening alone. Now that he had arrived, Gavril should have complied with the Conclave and reside in the closest town. Perhaps he would find lodging there, if and when he was convinced things were comfortable enough. But for now, he was staying here: whether it was the attic, the couch, or a shed behind the kitchens. Getting here had taken long enough. The only person who could convince him to leave was his sister.
Now, finding Ilina's villa, that was another task altogether. He had no idea who was where and was forced to knock on doors and ask. The first time, he was greeted by a blonde woman with a Germanic accent of some sort. He could scarcely pay attention to details, considering she answered the door wearing only a towel. "Ah-apologies; I can ask someone else--," but the woman shared no concerns over her wardrobe and insisted he wasn't a bother. The Macedonian's face blanched, then threatened to turn red as he kept his eyes level and explained himself. The blonde pointed in the right direction, and her towel slipped down off her rather generous chest. Gavril closed his eyes briefly in a shocked attempt to be polite and missed Ilina's exact location. The woman gave a bubbly apology and tried again, with the same exposing result. “Thank you very much!” He interrupted before she made a third attempt, then tugged his horse vaguely in the right direction before he could be accused of witnessing the display on purpose. He would have to try his luck on another home. The next door was answered by a woman with a strikingly different skintone but similarly pale hair - wearing a proper outfit this time. He explained himself again. The lady looked between him and his horse, and the conversation that ensued confused him, though the woman got a good laugh somewhere in it. Gavril was finally steered in the proper direction in the end, but he had to agree to be adopted by her or something. Was adopting some slang for making friends where she came from? Whatever it meant, at least he knew which door to knock on the third time.
Ilina did not answer the door of her villa, but one of her maids did. She recognized the young man at the door and ran to fetch the sister. In a few seconds, Ilina burst out of the house, ignoring that she had already changed into her nightclothes and flinging her arms around her taller sibling. Gavril had dozens of questions to ask her, but he was assailed with his sister's instead, as she swapped into Macedonian and a mothering mode. Ilina inquired about his trip, his health, how the house and business were faring, and of course their father. How was he? If Gavril was here, who was watching him? Gavril responded as soon as he could get a word in edgewise. **”The trip was fine. I am fine! Father will be safe. Clement is caring for him.” “...Clement?” Ilina paused upon hearing the familiar name. Fair enough, considering the older man retired several years back after working for their family for over two decades. Gavril nodded. ** “He is back in town for the summer and stopped to visit. We talked about Father's health and our situation, and he wanted to help, so I offered him his old position back until I return. He wasn't staying in a nice place anyway.” He watched the worried creases on Ilina's forehead relax. Clement was as much a friend to their father as an old employee, and knew enough of their father's health to be trustworthy with it. **“And Father?” Gavril couldn't keep his face as happy. He tried not to look too concerned and gave a shrug. ** “A-about the same. His knee is bad again, so he's mostly in bed. But Clement knows what to do.” The uncertain news caused a concerned pursing of his sister's mouth. Gavril tried to switch the mood to something more positive after that. Once everything was settled, he asked to be pointed in the direction of the stables. ** “I have to get Rid and Marija settled for the night before I think of sleeping.” Ilina made another face at the second name and stared at the airhole-punched traveling box strapped on the horse's back. ** “You brought Marija?!” Gavril gave another shrug. ** “Of course! Why would I not?”
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Over a week into his stay now, Gavril had settled in as best as possible without making himself a pain. He slept occasionally on the sofa in the living area (he wondered if they called it a parlor here) and spare space in the attic, depending on what he felt was least in the way. For all his worries about sharing the home with a stranger, Ilina's fiance wasn't so bad. He was quiet, but not particularly cruel or cold. Distracted was a good word. Ilina insisted he hadn't tried anything inappropriate, and Gavril didn't see anything to worry he might in the near future. Maybe the pair wasn't puppy-eyed over each other, but at least she wasn't living with someone trying to jump prematurely under her skirts. She was getting along with some of the other betrothed ladies as well. Though the little brother could tell she was homesick, she was making do as best as she could.
Gavril himself was brushing up on his languages to better communicate, and he had made some acquaintances around the area. The second door-answerer from his first evening, Fi apparently, seemed to show up and give him the occasional jab or adopted child joke. He still wasn't sure what to make of that, but she was also one of Ilina's newfound friends. There were plenty of chances for her jesting and his trying to comprehend or avoid turning pink at them. Blushing seemed to encourage her. He had spent time hanging out with Elise, a girl his age and the sister of the Estonian fiance. She was blunt and had a cutting way with words compared to most friends he'd made. She also shared his opinions on the stupidity of this arranged marriage idea.
The other friend he made was Pascale, from the stables. To be honest, Pascale confused him sometimes. Gavril had been told the French stableboy was, in fact, a he, just had that whole “pretty boy” thing going. Gavril never brought it up; it didn't feel kind to mention it. Actually, he had expected to start off on the wrong foot with the stablehand: showing up so late that first night, he probably woke the other up as he tried to set up his horse and Marija, his large falconry golden eagle. But Pascale had turned out to be a very positive, welcoming type, and he hadn't even been afraid of the bird. Gavril knew much older men who couldn't claim that. The eagle had been given a makeshift perch in a back spot of the stables, far enough away from the horses that she wouldn't spook them. Pascale had even accompanied him a couple times when he took Marija out to stretch her wings and seemed to enjoy it.
Today, though, Gavril's attention had been usurped by the multicultural festival. With so many unfamiliar countries represented, his attention had flitted from one new thing to another, uncertain which part he liked best. He learned about the other countries, tried Swiss foods, listened to some music from the Swedish lady, and generally absorbed everything he possibly could. For Macedonia's contribution, he had brought Marija down early that morning for some talking in his best English – with some help from Pascale. Falconry wasn't a popular sport in Macedonia, but the eagle was a proud heraldic symbol for his culture and many others from the area. And the impressively-sized Marija was, as a golden eagle, a native species. Ilina had also roped him into being her partner for some traditional Macedonian dances and accompanying her strumming of the tambura with old songs. All in all, it had been a busy day. As the festivities began to wind down, he hooded the eagle for the trip back and fetched his gelding. Arriving at the festival on horseback made the trip with the bird much faster. Rid had behaved himself and grazed and napped in the time between, tied to a tree. Pascale had been minding the gates when he passed to go drop the animals back at the stable. “Thank you for your help with Marija today!” He managed to wave at him through the crowd.
Once the horse and eagle were put away, Gavril realized he had nothing significant to do for the remainder of the evening. His curiosity was struck by what he'd heard of the couples heading out onto the lake to light lanterns. Maybe he could go see that. The walk back to the lake area was long by foot, but he didn't want to grow tired and lose track of the horse, or frighten the horse with the lantern's flames and lights. The security gates were closed by the time he arrived again, but his sister managed to swoop by and convince the guards to let him pass. Hands in his trouser pockets, he meandered around the area, heading towards the lake's edge to watch the preparations.
On second thought, maybe he shouldn't have come. Hopefully the lanterns would be pretty, but it occurred to him how much they were intended to tie into these ridiculous arranged marriages. The smile on his face withered a little at that thought, despite the excitement from the day.
** = actually spoken in Macedonian
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Thoughts regarding the lakeside evening, the lanterns, and anything else were interrupted with a tap on the top of his head. As lost in though as he'd been, he jumped a little and glanced around to make sure he hadn't been standing in someone's way. “Oh. Good evening, Elise.” She was standing somewhat behind him, parasol in hand. He should know by now that tapping craniums with it was a favorite way for her to get someone's attention. “Look at us, the lonely baby siblings. Sucks now doesn't it. I know what you’re thinking and I agree we probably shouldn’t be attending the lantern thing. But we shouldn’t be confined to our cages the whole time we’re here.” He faintly returned the small smile she gave. “I am not worried to attend...It is not being left out for me. I think it is Целата ситуација...the whole situation.” The lantern event merely was a reminder of the reason they were all here, even if he was interested in seeing it.
The Estonian sibling continued, making a comment about Gavril marrying her instead to get their siblings off the hook. Her, “I could be Misses Cherry boy. How does that sound my love?” gave a threat of him living up to the nickname. He provided the quietest of laughs, not sure how much she was joking at that point. When she finished with the “put up with me” comment, he gave a stare out across the lake water as if the idea was actually worth considering, somewhere between sarcastic and not. He decided she was mostly joking and followed with a shake of the head. “No, that would not work. Illie would say...she would cause the family trouble with the Conclave to refuse now. It would have to be Father's word.” He gave a minute pout remembering Ilina's stubbornness and pulled one hand out of his trouser pockets, pointing in the approximate direction of his homeland. “And, that would mean you live in Macedonia. We have no sea there, no port: just land on all sides. How would your brother visit you?” He tried at a more lighthearted expression, interrupted by Elise grabbing his free hand and dragging him farther across the lake's edge.
Once they reached their destination between the docks, Gavril watched curiously as Elise dug through the packed lanterns for the evening, until she found the one she was looking for and handed it to him. He examined it curiously as she spoke. “Its okay to say you’re completely in love with me now. I hand painted that one for you, so if you light it and act all sad and mopey after, this parasol will find itself in the darkest cave. So please… cheer up.” Despite the parasol threat, he didn't think “please” was a very common word for her. Had he really looked that depressed? He processed that thought while marveling at the paint job on the lantern. “It's very good – really! The sky should be dark to light them soon, I think.” He rotated the lantern around once or twice to see all the painted parts, giving a light chuckle each time he returned to the illustration of himself on the eagle's back. “You always joke about riding Marija, though. You should have painted you on her, unless you have your own lantern. You made so many; you have your own, yes?” He glanced at her over the top of the lantern, his face somewhere between amused and curious at the new object in his hands. Curiosity won out after a moment. Gavril sat down to give the object's construction a once-over, holding it up above his head to see the internal structure. He prodded lightly at the internal frame and the type of paper making up the exterior. “Simple design, isn't it? I thought it would have to be more комплицирани* to float. But how much time did it take to make so many?”
He and Elise were currently the only ones really around the lanterns. Except for one of the engaged couples, most everyone was gathered in a cluster nearby(ish), around Pascale from what Gavril could see. Were they dancing, out in the open, with no music? Peculiar. “Are we supposed to be over there?” He would think not, normally, but Pascale was there. If it was some event just for the couples, why would the stablehand be participating? Gavril thought he made out his friend giving a small wave at them and returned it with a broader one.
Pascale was soon lost in the milling of the dancing couples, but Gavril swore he looked particularly feminine just now. More confusion: a whole lot of confusion, actually, though Gavril kept any thoughts about it to himself. He'd been told Pascale was a he, but Gavril swore it grew harder to remember that over the last week or so.
*комплицирани – complicated
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Gavril nodded in response to the comment about Ilina moving out-of-country. “I do not need to remember that.” Ilina's upcoming distance was probably in the top three of his list of complaints regarding the arranged marriages, and yes, there was a list. It wasn't so much her leaving in general. He'd been prepared for her to move out during her previous engagement, even if Gavril hadn't particularly liked her ex and was selfishly happy that didn't pan out. No, wishing Ilina into single spinster-hood wasn't fair, but he always figured she would live a few days' ride away at most. Another country entirely? He wasn't sure how she would fare with such a permanent isolation from everything familiar. Even with the collection of villas the Conclave created here, they were all adjusting together and had that to unite over.
If she expected to make him blush again regarding the joke pregnancy, she received a subtly severe expression instead. “I have seen that happen to people back in my city. Never simple, even if it ends well. ” He didn't bother to elaborate on who he had known, using 'in my city' part to make it sound like a more second-hand experience. That look only broke when Elise gave him a face-to-face stare and made her declaration of potentially marrying him. Mostly, he was trying to figure out if she was being serious or not. Her tone was grave enough. Very grave. Maybe that was the problem he saw in it. He stood quiet for a moment “That sounds like a business proposal, not marriage,” he replied after a silent moment to figure out what about her tone had bothered him. He adjusted his face to look lighter on the opinion, but his tone didn't entirely match that. “Part of my complaint is the business style of the Conclave marriages. Would we solve the problem, or just be part of it?” Gavril didn't outright turn down the idea, but he had his reservations. He and Elise got along well enough, but generally only in a friend sense so far. Plus, they had only known each other a couple weeks. Talking about marriage, well...that was a little quick, wasn't it? It defeated the point of foiling the Conclave's plans, surely.
The mood lightened over the discussion of the lanterns, though Gavril thought Elise was starting to look a little...odd. Pale? He couldn't quite tell, but for some reason he wasn't convinced it was the fading light. She didn't say anything about it, though. Gavril gave a sort a humored shrug at Elise's comment about looking his age. “It makes little difference. Most people treat me as a child anyway.” Standing back up again, he placed his lantern back on top of the others to wait for when it was time to light them. He was neutral about joining the dancing, having done plenty earlier thanks to his sister. The biggest reaction earned was at Elise's “slip of the tongue” regarding Pascale. His gaze flitted from his blonde friend before him and where his darker haired one was concealed by the dancing couples, then back. He looked about to say something, but didn't. 'That is just not fair.' Gavril had enough trouble reminding himself that Pascale was male. He didn't need it made worse. And dancing with Pascale? Sure, there were plenty of dances in old Macedonian tradition that were entirely male or female, divided by gender. But it looked like the couples out there were doing some sort of waltz-like dance, which was intended for a man and woman specifically. Actually asking another guy to dance – which part would Pascale even take, the lead or follow? Gavril was a few inches taller, but Pascale was older. The entire thing was a silly idea. So why didn't the actual thought of it feel so silly?
Whatever Gavril did between now and the lantern lighting, it seemed Elise was determined to leave. She gave him a final glance over her shoulder. "Actually before I go..." In a surprisingly strong motion for her size, Elise grabbed him by the vest and pulled him lower, nearer to her own height. Up close, Gavril briefly glimpsed that whatever paleness he'd seen to her face was not his imagination. Brief, because Elise followed her vest yank by encircling his neck with her arms and pulling his lips onto hers.
Technically, it wasn't Gavril's first kiss, but it was the first where the girl hadn't pecked his face and run away giggling. It was definitely the first one involving a girl's arms around his neck. His own arms wrapped around her back and shoulders – he wasn't going to waste the moment, and it felt like the right thing to do in the situation. But something felt off. No, it wasn't that something felt off. It was less what he did feel and more what he didn't. Gavril wasn't expecting his first long kiss to completely knock him off his feet like a girly romance, but wasn't there supposed to be a bit...more? Despite how long Elise lingered, he didn't feel much emotion on her end, and if anything, her grip felt less steady the longer it remained. A first kiss with someone was meant to be a step up in a relationship, so why, as this one ended, did he feel the two of them remained on about the same ground as before?
Gavril's eyes were the first to open, trying to gauge everything that just happened and how Elise was feeling about it. She pulled away more slowly, a glassy look to her gaze. Her arms slipped from around him, and she crumpled to the ground.
“Elise? Elise?!” Gavril dropped down next to her, checking her face for any signs of response. She was breathing, thank God, but it was labored, and she showed no response when he nudged her shoulder or tried to get her to pick up her head. No eye movement, either, when he checked that. Panic gripped his insides. She seemed completely unconscious, or otherwise unresponsive to everything around her. “Зошто не речеш ништо? Нешто не е во ред - не ми кажуваше дека нешто не е во ред. Elise!” He'd forgotten that the others were nearby and almost jumped when Pascale came sliding into his line of sight. Why Pascale was the first to jump in, he wasn't sure, but he didn't find it important to question his friend on that. “She just fell,” he explained as Pascale seemed to give Elise a similar once-over like he had. “Само онесвести without a word. Fell down, out!” He'd forgotten the English “faint” in the chaos and worked around it.
Elise's brother sprinted up by the time Gavril finished talking, but Pascale held a hand up to him. “Mister Tiitus, go take everyone to lake now! Pascale will take care of Miss Fleece!" Ilina was shouting at Gavril a short distance away as well. “Небото милост. Gavril?! Gavril, што се случи?!” “Не знам! Таа се онесвести! Таа стана бледа, а потоа само помина. I didn't—she didn't say... Ако ми кажа дека не се чувствува добро, можев да добијам помош. Што да правам?! Ова не е исто како кога Таткото--” He cut off his own rambling. Pascale and Tiitus erupted into an argument over Elise's care while Gavril tried and failed to get his friend to sit up or even open her eyes, not recalling what answers he gave to his own sister as she tried to determine what was happening. His focus on Elise was interrupted with the resounding slap of a hand against skin. He looked up to see a growing pink mark across Tiitus' face and Pascale putting a glove back on. The stablehand pulled a pair of whistles, and Gavril glanced between the two as the arguing between them petered out. It seemed Pascale had won the argument and was taking over Elise's care to leave Tiitus with his fiancee and the rest of the engaged group. Gavril found himself instructed to grab a few of the lanterns to take with them. Already paled from concern for his unconscious friend, he made a confused face. The lanterns seemed a pretty insignificant thing right now, didn't they? Then again, Elise would probably kill him if she woke up and found someone else had lit Gavril's. And if he was going to grab his own, he may as well grab a few. He gave Pascale a wordless nod and fetched his own lantern and a couple more from the wagons, then swung onto the free horse not taken up by Pascale and Elise. It took a well trained horse to actually respond to something like a whistle. He'd have to remember to be impressed about that later. “We will care for Elise. Don't worry,” he offered to Tiitus, who still looked numbed and heartbroken. Gavril's own voice was dry and tight, so he wasn't sure how reassuring it sounded. He forgot to say goodbye to Ilina entirely.
They bolted off on the horses. The lake, the engaged couples, and soon the security gates vanished in the distance. Gavril focused on riding and gathering the thoughts swimming in his head, staying mostly quiet through the ride. Once in a while, he turned from the route ahead to glance at his two friends on the opposite horse. Elise remained unconscious, and Pascale stared directly forward, bent on getting them back to the villas. The horses were breathing heavily by the time they reached the secluded homes, the animals' necks coated with sweat. Gavril swung out of the saddle as soon as his horse came to a stop, then grabbed the reins of Pascale's mount, too, so he could focus on swinging off and ensuring Elise didn't tumble down at the same time. “We should place her on a bed or couch yes? Do the villas have those - Што се нарекуваат – smelling salts? Would that help her?” He swallowed, a dryness in his throat, and tried to quell the panic that wanted to leap back up on him. “Tell me how to help.”
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Tiitus, Ilina, etc. | Just Pascale & Elise tabtabtabtabTalking to: Same as above tabtabtabtabOutfit: Victorian + Macedonian tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Gavril's grip remained on the horses' reins as Pascale eased out of the saddle, fainted Estonian limply in tow. He nodded at the stablehand's response of Elise staying in the attic. That made sense; he was essentially doing the same. “Will it be too warm for her up there?” He glanced up at the top floor of the building. It was summer, after all, and it had been a warm day. The mention about stripping and changing Elise's clothes returned his attention to Pascale with a blank expression. He hadn't thought about that part. Elise had made a sorta-kinda-maybe-not-really-a joke about getting herself pregnant to get her brother out of marriage, but despite that, he didn't exactly feel it was appropriate to be literally removing her clothes a few minutes later, let alone when she wasn't conscious. Pascale continued by volunteering to do the job, though his voice sounded a little tense, and Gavril wasn't sure if he was supposed to consider that option better. Well, someone working for the families probably was a more appropriate option, but... “Maybe Tiitus should have come after all,” Gavril mumbled to himself as Pascale disappeared into the villa. He tied off the horses nearby – it was getting way too dark to leave them roaming unsupervised, even if Pascale had inhuman summoning skills – and placed the lanterns he'd brought inside the door before following his friend up the stairs. For as slim as Pascale was, he certainly didn't seem to struggle lugging the girl around.
Once they reached the door to the attic space, Pascale passed the unconscious Estonian over in order to tug it open. Gavril gave a slight grunt as he took over the job. The blonde wasn't exactly heavy, but the dead weight of her being passed out made it awkward. He tried to readjust her position while he carried her, but Elise's head kept slumping down towards her collarbone. The best he could do was get it to roll over against her own shoulder instead. Once the attic stairs were revealed, Pascale glanced back at him. "Change of plans. Put Miss Fleece on her bed. Pascale will find stuff. Keep kind eye on her. If she starts foaming from mouth again like other day, scream for Pascale." “Почекај минута.” Foaming at the mouth? The other day? “Does she have seizures?” That was probably one of the only odder medical terms he actually knew in English. Pascale brushed back hair from Elise's face and mentioned something about tea before heading off to the main part of the house. Gavril watched him go, then glanced back down at Elise. She was still undoubtedly unconscious, but her breathing had slowed at least. “Okay, I'll get you upstairs, then.”
The attic was stuffy, but not uncomfortably hot. Gavril placed Elise down on the bed. There was no point actually tucking her in, if Pascale was just going to change her clothes. Once the girl's head was securely supported on a pillow, Gavril scratched the back of the curls on his head and picked at the mental checklist he and Ilina performed for their father when he was sick. The first step was fresh air, achieved by cracking the small attic window to fight the room's muggy stillness. What was he supposed to do if Elise actually did that foaming at the mouth or went into a full on seizure? Gavril's father had experienced them, only once or twice, but they'd been frightening enough to leave an impression. He and Ilina had both researched enough on the topic. Keep the head supported, but not restrained: check. She was mostly on her back right now, so he'd have to try and tilt her more towards her side if she started convulsing or anything, so she wouldn't choke. 'Don't restrain the limbs, keep objects away that they could hurt themselves against... Gah, Ilina's always so much calmer about all of this...”
Gavril saw Pascale's hat ascending into the room before he actually heard him. His hands unraveled from each other – they'd been tightly clenched together while he thought. He made a few steps over to see if Pascale needed any assistance, but his friend set a platter of tea (whatever blue tea was) down and bustled past without any need for help. He'd mostly stopped shaking from nerves once he picked up one of the teacups. The drink inside was a brilliant blue, as promised, and the jarring oddity of it distracted him enough to somewhat level his thinking. He sniffed once at the curious drink, looked to make sure Elise was still stable, and watched Pascale busy himself around the room to fetch supplies. He looked much more like a housekeeper or maid right now than a stablehand. Had Gavril ever known a stablehand that made tea? Curiosity got the better of him. “Have you helped Elise like this much?” That hadn't been the right way to word that. 'How often does Elise completely pass out like this? What's actually happening?' was more appropriate. His thoughts wandered back to Pascale's earlier comments, particularly the mouth foaming part. How else would he know that, after all? Of course Pascale was always out and about around everyone, and always pleasant and helpful – that was just Pascale. But, he knew symptoms that Gavril was fairly certain no one else outside the Rebane family had been privy to, least of all him. He took a sip from his cup – normal tea undertones, but it had a strong floral bite to it.
Pascale turned to face him. “Turn around or leave room. Pascale changing Miss Fleece. No need to ruin innocence." His face blanked again. Right. That was his cue to do something. He glanced around the attic, but there was little space to sit, and any of them would require rearranging furniture to be turned away from the bed. “I'll wait on the stairs. If she... If she does start foaming or something, though, I can help.” Gavril half-turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at Pascale. “She didn't say anything.” His brow was furrowed again, tone that of someone talking out his confusion to a friend who hopefully wouldn't judge for saying it. As if the stablehand could actually give any sort of answer. “If she had said she felt unwell and sat down, Не знам, maybe she would not have fallen so bad. But she said nothing. Why wouldn't she just tell me?” He glanced away at some inner thought, then back. The teacup clattered a little as he took a final sip and went about halfway down the attic stairs to sit.
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His way to the stairs was interrupted by Pascale's voice, now behind him as he faced to leave the room. "Did you enjoy the kiss...?"Gavril turned his head to look back at his friend, the question finally returning some color to his face (which had been a paled tint of concern considering the situation). Pascale made a face as if the question had come out unwillingly. Maybe he was afraid of asking something so personal. Gavril himself wasn't sure how to respond. How had he felt about it? He had tried to focus more on getting Elise cared for and stable and filed thoughts about that part of the evening for later. And talking about the kiss, with the other participant lying there unconscious...it just felt wrong, especially since he couldn't truthfully claim it blew him away. His internal conflict was probably evident. “I expected something different.” The response came out as a mumble.
Elise slowly recovered over the rest of the evening, but Gavril couldn't help but notice Pascale's mood had taken a downward dip in spite of that. He ought to be pretty proud; he kept his calm through the whole incident and had a great handle on what to do, but instead he grew more closed off. Ilina managed to corner Gavril the next day and gave a cross-armed interrogation of the previous evening's events. His sister was in full-on mom mode regarding the incident, especially since the first half happened in full view of all their new aquaintances. He gave as much as he felt like providing. Elise's health problems weren't Ilina's business, or most of the conversations that ensued at the villa. He kept explanations vague enough, wrapping up with a description of Pascale's assistance and how surprisingly capable he had been through the whole process. “Are you joking, or distracted?” One of Ilina's brows perked up, meaning he did something that caught her off guard. She stared for a few seconds. “Pascale's a girl. You know that.”
“...Gav?”
Gavril's prepared thoughts for the conversation burned up like kindling. 'A girl?' Of course, came a voice somewhere in the back of his head – the part that had caught subtle, confusing clues over the last week or so and nagged him over it. All that suddenly made more sense, but bubbling back to surface, along with those observations, were the quickly-dismissed feelings that had come with them. Further questions from Ilina blew right through his ears, as did his own answers.
--------------------------------------------------- Hey look it's a time skip whaddya know ---------------------------------------------------
The week or so after the festival was a slow blur. Elise slowly recovered, or at least Gavril hadn't been told if she had any relapses in her health. He was avoiding any jabs or questions regarding that kiss or the rest of the evening. A lot of them had bigger things to worry about, anyway; Tiitus's temporary abandonment of the villas caused an uproar, and most of the focus remained on the Estonian portion of the Conclave until his return. And speaking of having better things to do, he had barely seen anything of Pascale for the past week. Maybe she was just busy working...but hadn't she spent an afternoon out with Illie and Fi? The stablehand still acted friendly the few times he'd managed to run into her, but there was none of the hanging out they had done previously. Gavril wasn't obvlisious enough to skip over that. He couldn't help but feel he was being left out of something. Had Ilina spilled the beans about his earlier mistaken gender issue? Oh, he really hoped that hadn't happened. Did Pascale think she had to give Elise and Gavril space? Because that was completely ridiculous – there had been no new developments in that territory, and Gavril found himself certain he wasn't interested in creating any. He liked Elise just fine, and she was plenty cute despite her gripes about looking too young, but... but still...
Maybe he should have just confronted Pascale and asked her, but his thoughts jumbled the few times they'd even been within speaking distance. Pascale had always excused herself before he could sift through them and say anything productive.
June 18th had been an uneventful day. Gavril spent the rainy afternoon holed up in the attic, working on business letters. The Conclave's new go-between had stopped by the house later in the day, and he'd slipped them to the man to bring back to town securely. He didn't think much of that first flash of lightning that evening, not until the second bolt peeled through the sky and made him remember something. The first time Marija had been in their stables back home during a bad storm, she had become upset and broken from the tether on her perch (he never figured out how). And this was Marija's first big storm here; it would be bad news if she repeated that in the villas' stable. As the sound of rain on the roof grew louder, Gavril grabbed a suit jacket to throw over his shirt and bolted down the stairs for the front door. Of course, by the time he reached it, the storm had increased to near-blinding levels. The jacket wouldn't do enough good for that. He dug out the travel coat, a distraction that gave his sister time to meet him at the door. “Gav, what do you think you're doing?”
“I have to go check on Marija.” His tone indicated that should be obvious. Ilina protested, and Gavril could tell she was in no mood to back down. After a few sentences back and forth, he simply ducked around her grasp out the doorway. “Gavril! You're going to get yourself killed!” He gave his sister one more look, reading the concern on her face. Right. That level of concern with weather was more specific. “I have my coat,” he responded, extending his arms as if to display it, “And it isn't even cold outside. It's not the same. I will be fine.” He turned and dashed before she could respond, hoping she wasn't going to try to dash after and drag him back.
By the time he reached the stables, the beginnings of hail pelted his head along with the rain. His face was so soaked that he could barely see, practically spitting water as he slid into the stable doorway and wrung his hair out on the wet side of the entry before coming all the way in. His waves and curls lay flat and limp all over his head; he should have worn a hat, if that would have made any difference. Gavril removed his dripping wet coat and slung it over an empty saddle tree. It had saved his torso, but everything from his knees down was about to collect dust and straw all over it. Hmm, he should have brought a lantern. The dark weather outside made it even darker in the stables, and his eyes still needed to adjust. Another lightning strike flashed, briefly lighting up the stable aisle, and Gavril saw a glimpse of a familiar face only a couple feet from where he'd been walking before it blinked out. “Pasc--” Her frightened shriek interrupted him, and he ended with a surprised yelp. A few beats of silence followed as all the questions and thoughts he mulled over the past week returned. He pushed himself to say something. “What are..?” 'Don't be stupid. 'What are you doing here? She's the stablehand, of course. What am I doing here?' “I, I came to check on Marija,” he offered, trying to sound friendly and lighthearted. “When there was a storm, when I first had her, she broke loose and scared our horses.” He attempted a casual half-laugh. “Rid was afraid of her for months. So I thought, with her first storm here...” Pascale brushed past him and returned holding a towel. She plopped it over the top of his head. "M-mister Gavreel should not be out in this storm... You can get sick..." “Oh, no, I am fi--.”Gavril's attempts at being lighthearted caught in his throat at the sensation of her fingers on his head, even if it was through the towel. Thank goodness it was too dark for the flush on his face to be obvious. Her face was less than a foot from his. She was soaking wet, too. At least he had his coat as a partial shield to the rain; Pascale was dripping from head to toe, thick hair plastered down her back and meager outfit clinging to her slim frame. 'Don't stare.' His gaze returned to her face at the mental command. If he'd not been informed of her proper gender already, there were no questions now. Maybe he should have been politer and glanced away from her face, too, but he couldn't, even if the hair drying was strangely soothing and made it tempting to close his eyes altogether. She was so close. She was touching him, and she was so close...
As Gavril's eyes adjusted, Pascale's proximity made the miserable look on her face obvious. She was smiling, but it was as real as his play at being casual. Her hands hit a slightly ticklish spot on the back of his neck, and he repressed a laugh and used the break to move again. “I am fine, really.” He reached up and pulled Pascale's hands, and the towel along with it, and put them over her own hair and shoulders instead. “You are much worse. You are not sick, are you? Your face, it looks...not happy.” Even through the towel, her shoulders felt frigid. “And cold.” The towel was already damp from his own hair and would be completely wet by the time she dried her own. That wouldn't do her any good keeping warm. He glanced around, feet still locked in place. In the end, the only useful thing nearby was the suit jacket he'd thrown on before his coat. He removed it and pushed it in Pascale's direction for her to put on over her soaked outfit. “You are not sick – you're sure?”
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Gavril watched as Pascale considered his jacket. 'Just put it on, please.' He could tell she was cold, and soaked to the skin, but she hesitated. Why wouldn't she just wear it? “Mister Gavreel asks lots of questions. Pascale just is not a fan of storms...but Pascale is not sick. Pascale would not want to make you ill...” “That--” 'That wasn't the point,' he wanted to say, but Pascale draped the suit jacket back over him, and his mouth closed. It was a gently executed movement, but it wounded nonetheless. The stablehand mentioned something about not liking to eat and temporarily disappeared into a darker corner of the stable. Gavril glanced at the fabric now hanging around his shoulders. After being avoided by her for so many days, and now a refusal of something so simple as keeping her from freezing... he wasn't completely clueless. The hair drying had thrown a confusing wrench into it, but he could sense the emotional distance she was trying to create. No matter that she stood too close again when she returned with a lantern; her smile was that of someone ready to wave goodbye and back away. But, this distance between them, and the subtle ways she had shifted from treating him as a friend to a friendly employer: it wasn't what he wanted. Worse than that; it was the opposite of what he wanted. Maybe she was technically a serving position. Maybe he should be less interested, considering he was several years younger. 'Still a boy, no matter how I fight it.' Still, he'd always looked forward to seeing her the next day, or asking her opinion on something, or anything that gave an excuse. He missed the time they'd been spending together before, the easy way they seemed to get along, watching her throw her heart into whatever she did. Ever since the evening of the festival, though, he'd been grilled about his relationship with Elise instead. Everyone assumed he was actually in some romantic entanglement with her, even as he'd avoided any chances of that idea progressing. He felt like all their friends here kept expecting him to look one way, when in fact...
"Y-you should return home Gavreel... Pascale will keep Rid and Marija safe, even staying all night if have to." “But...” 'She didn't call me Mister that time,' he noticed, but he barely had time to think about it. Pascale picked up his hands in her own, still cold and shaky to the touch. “Pascale swears on life.” He should have put on a stronger face than the one he did. This was why, despite everything, he could never force an interest in Elise the way she'd tried to encourage. 'All our friends keep expecting me to look one way, when I've been pulled another the whole time.'
There was another blast of thunder. Pascale's nails dug into his hand as her grip tightened, and her face sank. “Pascale?” Her shoulders began to shake: not from cold. She'd only said she didn't like storms; this wasn't dislike. It was pure fear. His hands were thrown out of her grasp before he could say anything further, but she didn't tell him to leave like she'd been trying to convince him to do before. She bolted forward, burying herself into his neck. The jacket slipped off his shoulders at the impact and fluttered to the ground, sending a puff of sawdust and straw. Gavril's face grew hot. His heart raced as the stablehand clung to him: wet hair and cold face offset by hot tears. Her voice came in a rushed and sobbing whisper of swift French. He wasn't fluent, but he picked up enough to understand. 'Mister Gavreel, go home...I can handle...I'll be fine. It's just a storm. Loud storm. Why? I can prove it. I'm protecting you...I'm not crying...I'm a tough(difficult?) macaroon.' The words came out between shaking breaths and tears, and he wasn't sure if she was even going to be able to stand up on her own if he actually walked away like she was telling him to.
“No.”Forget it; he wasn't leaving.
His arms picked up from their limp position where she had thrown them, wrapping around her shoulders despite the fact that it pulled rain from her shirt into his own. Maybe because of it. He was probably breaking half a dozen etiquette rules of age and stature and propriety. But he could feel how frigid and afraid she was, and he didn't want to let go until she was better. Even if she grew angry at him, it was better than feeling her cry like this. Maybe.
“Of course you're un macaron difficile” He responded once he'd leveled his own thoughts enough to sound calm instead of just stubborn. “You must be, to go out in this storm to care for all these horses and Marija while everyone else is safe at home. But I am here, so I will have to be un macaron difficile, too.” He thought for a moment, figuring out what might work to help her calm down. “You know, that...reasons like that are probably why Marija likes you so much. When I first had her – when she would break out and scare the horses in storms – I used to sing to her sometimes, too. Old Maceondian songs, like Jovano, Jovanka or Nazad Kalino, Mome. Nothing very special.” His arms pulled Pascale just a little closer as he spoke, only partially on purpose. Even though she was cold and trembling, he felt warm holding her. He liked how it felt, even more than he could have anticipated: definitely more than the kiss from Elise. “But, I have never heard of Artamis' Lullaby before. How does that go?”
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Glancing skyward to examine the clouds, Devnet received an eyeful of water. That had been the general weather the entire day: gray and wet. Only his second day taking the route to and from the villas, and already Mother Nature was trying to make it a tough job. “The joke's on you, old girl,” he responded with a crooked smile to the drizzling sky, brogue only slightly dulled by six years outside Ireland. Today's steady rain wasn't exactly his first time exposed to the elements. “This doesn't hold a candle to the worst days. You ought to know.”
Devnet's job before this had been less directly involved in the intermarriages. As an underling for the Conclave the last couple years, he lived at the beck and call of his higher ups. When they found out he once lived in the town closest to their villas, they sent him a month or so ahead of the couples' arrival. Devnet kept track of the villas' preparations, ran errands and inquiries for the decision-makers, and passed along an important note or two. He'd been around the town, around the Conclave, just always in the background. There was a lot of legwork, a lot of backsides wanting kissed, but running circles around town beat manual labor or no work at all. And it paid so damn well. He was sending money back to his parents and still had spare to shove aside as savings. Savings: he liked that word a lot.
Being back in the little Slovanian town was a welcome change, too. He'd wandered into it like a ragged stray during his pre-Conclave days, stuck in a long rut of no work and even less money. The old alehouse in town had been in need of repair that they were willing to pay for. He'd worked there, in addition to other odd jobs, and made friends in the quaint little community over those several months. But time marched on. Outdoor work closed up as winter approached, and he had been forced to keep moving. One last evening at the bar, an attempt to teach his local friends the chorus to The Parting Glass (he fondly recalled Slovanian dialects butchering the lyrics), and he was gone the next morning by daybreak. He'd never made any hints of coming back, never expected to be within a hundred miles ever again. He got busy adjusting to his new job this time around, rekindling old friendships, visiting familiar haunts, and even meeting new aquaintances once the Conclave's couples arrived.
Top of the old friend list was Anezka, who still worked in the bar that had been his old haunt. 'And still too nice to be a barmaid,' he determined quickly. He was sure patrons took advantage of that, and Devnet felt spoiled to death every time she would slide him a free drink or even make him meals. Those weren't even part of her bar roles; they were all just Nezzie. Sometimes he wondered why no one had simply scooped up the sweetheart and carried her away yet. On the new friend roster was a woman named Fi from the Conclave's engaged victims. 'Finnish upperclass, my arse,' was his initial impression, but if the Conclave wasn't saying anything about the wool obviously hovering over their eyes, he sure as hell wasn't. Fi made a good bar buddy, and watching her drink men under the table was more than entertaining. He'd been a willing victim once himself, just for the experience; it was worth the hangover. There was another member of the engagement from Romania that Devnet had come across drinking, too. Damian was engaged to Fi, in fact, but he never saw the two at the same time. The Romanian's morals were....questionable at times, even by Devnet's standards, but the older man had some (mostly explicit) tales of previous adventures that were just too good to pass up. Devnet could rarely resist a good story. Last, but not least, on the new friend list was Solomon, undoubtedly a bad influence that was usually too much fun to refuse. Yep, Devnet had to admit that his life had hit a comfortable groove.
That altered after the festival fiasco. Nevermind one of the couples vanishing with only a brief note about an elopment. That came with its own complications, but at least it meant an early victory for Switzerland and Italy. Something at the intercultural event went terribly wrong, and one of the fiances disappeared for an entire week while the Conclave's masterminds lost their wits. With their great push to give the couples privacy, they had given up their ability to keep tabs. What if this defect was only the beginning? In the end, the Conclave decided someone should probably check on the villas once in a while, to make sure things were running smoothly and prevent hiccups that might be solved by a simple trading of grievances. Of course, none of the decision makers felt like that much traveling, so their green-eyed gofer was picked in the end. 'And they didn't even give me a horse.' At least he was able to negotiate an increase in his payroll, to offset the extra wear. His clothes were only a year or so old, brand new by his standards. Had he ever had an outfit before not patched together or hand-me-down? If they wanted him to wear out his limited shoes and clothes in poor weather, they were going to pay for it.
And about that weather...for all purposes, he should have been on his way back to town hours ago, but he'd been slowed down. Officially, he was supposed to pass needs and grievances of the couples along, but the maids and servents decided to skip the rainy day out and shove any of their own lists at him, too. Villa One was given the wrong washing powder, which had turned a couple outfits brown. Villa Two had a horrendous wind whistling in the roof. Et cetera, et cetera. Devnet hoped the long delay would give the storms time to break before his trek home. His attention turned to a sharp crack of thunder in the distance instead, out of the west and close. “Aw, damn. Good play.” Mother Nature was taking his sass seriously.
Within ten minutes, he could barely see in front of him for the rain. The man's ubiquotous wool cap did only marginal good on his head, as pelting gusts of the storm drove sideways to batter his face. Devnet stood soaked and half-deaf in the combined fury of water, wind, and lightning. Now what to do? Trudging back to town in this was a fool's errand, and he coudn't just stand here and drown. Asking to be let into the couples' villas was probably a faux pas of grand proportions for his first week, too. The only other options were the stables – too far away – and the stablehand's house nearby. He didn't know Pascale particularly well, only an occasional run-in conversation, but he'd been given the impression that the working girl's home was a popular hangout. She was technically even sharing it, besides. Maybe they wouldn't mind an additional butt in a chair til the weather calmed. What should have been a minute-long walk to the door felt more like five fighting the weather. As soon as the roof's overhang gave him a few inches of mercy, he gathered himself and shook off whatever water was loose enough to be thrown. He pounded on the wooden door and gave the storm one more glance before the entry cracked open. “Throw whatever summer fit you want; it's still no winter in Hamburg.”
He was expecting Pascale or her housemate to answer the door. So, he was caught off-guard to find a more familiar face on the other side instead. “Nez?” His head tilted in confusion, then slid into a pleased grin despite his drenched condition. “Nezzie! Well, there's a surprise!” Things were looking better already. And if she was here, he felt less guilty about worming his way out of the rain. “Would you mind letting me in? I'm supposed to be back in town, but it's miserable out here. Thought I might beg some shelter from the residents before I wash away.”
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The words of the day were expected disappointment. Maddox hadn't anticipated anything at that final meetup by the tree, and it had met his expectations. He would've been happier to see all his old friends all together again in different circumstances, but the general mood that day had been grim. It was a bit of a last-ditch effort, thinking that giving the so-called magic tree one last shot like this would actually work. If the rest of them hadn't been there, he wouldn't have bothered. He'd given the whole soulmate idea a long enough shot; their other visits to the tree over the years had been fruitless. He'd even strayed over there once or twice alone years before, when he'd had nothing better to do and been thinking of it. Nothing: nada. Now he was sick of thinking about it.
He'd tried not to let the thought of it sour his mood this much, but it had anyway. There were half a hundred better things they could have done besides dash some remaining hopes, even in their dull little hometown. Now the day was over and wasted, and he had another same-old workday to look forward to in the morning. At least the evening sleep routine was a more welcome familiarity. He rearranged the pillow on his side of the bed before plopping down on his back, “his side of the bed” being more the very edge of it. The rest was taken up by his best friend and the four-legged members of the peculiar makeshift family. A few taps on his phone set his alarm for the next day, and he put the device on a low table beside the bed. “Everybody all cozy? Kali? Boys?” A mound of fur rolled over with a sleepy canine groan, and one paw extended straight into his gut. “Ow. Good: thanks, for that, Ro. I've got an early day tomorrow, so if we could all get some sleep, that'd be great.” He switched off the remaining light and settled down under the thin covers. He didn't need much besides a basic sheet, given the extra body heat on the mattress.
Within a few minutes, the bed was a tangle of dog and human limbs. Usually, he was part of the knotwork, but sleep took a while to come. The sour mood didn't help, nor did recalling the crestfallen looks on some of his friends' faces from earlier in the day. He probably didn't hide his own mood about it too well, though he buried most of his disappointment about the final tree visit under an excuse of, “Of course it didn't work.” In reality, there was a little more hurt behind it than he was willing to admit. I mean, of course he should figure the soulmate thing didn't exist for him. His dating history more or less proved it, and seeing how many of his old girlfriends took issue with Kali's closeness to him, let alone adding the dogs into the mix: well, no way was he dumping them for some so-called soulmate. That didn't sound like true love in any shape. So if he was doomed to a perpetually unstable love life, then he was. And if the tree was just a stupid Santa Claus/Easter Bunny style "grownup lie" to tell the kids of town, he was over it. 'Oh, mighty tree of love, if you can't find love for me in this world, then find me in another.' He scoffed once in the darkness of the bedroom, above the soft sound of one of the dogs snoring. 'Good riddance, tree. That's the last time I recite that phrase in my head.' Sleep finally came.
He'd experienced better rests in his time. Dreams came in unsteady, shifting flashes, the unnerving kinds that left a pit in his gut even as their details faded. He couldn't recall what happened from one to the next, but the vague nausea remained. Morning had to be looming soon, but his consciousness drifted in and out, unsettled stomach willing him to stay in bed, where it was warm and comfortable, at least until his alarm went off. When was it going to go off? He couldn't open his eyes or lift his head from the pillow to check. His arm had flopped lazily over Kali at some point in the evening. He was fighting grogginess and being part of the old snuggle cocoon, and he couldn't win. Maddox passed out again...
...and jarred awake with a lurch. A body landed on him, jolting his brain to reality even as his tired eyes refused to open. “Wh-uuf!” Still sluggish from the frozen muscles of dream sleep, his hands covered his face to rub away a growing headache. “Kali, if I missed my alarm or something, just drag my a** off the bed. Pro wrestling's gotta wait until I get some caffeine in me.” A feminine voice cut through the quiet, but he was still half-conscious and only caught a couple words. Choose. Last. “What the hell are you talking about?” he mumbled through his hands. 'Her voice sounds off today. Is she feeling sick, too?' A sharp point prodded at his throat. “Aw, geez. Whose claw is that, Bee's? How'd it even get that sharp? Okay, I get it; I'll buy some nail trimmers for them when I get off work today.” One hand removed from his face to push the supposed dog's claw away, but there was no fur or flesh beyond. His hand hit only cold, metallic sharpness, drawing blood just below his fingers. “Ow, ********] he jerked away from the object, then instinctively tried to push it away from a safer sideways angle. The body on top of him reacted, and the combined struggle pushed him too far over the bed's edge he habitually drifted towards anyway.
Over both of them went in a tumble. His eyes finally opened, but he saw nothing save a steel-like flash before the tightly-tucked bedsheets tangled around his legs. It lurched him at an odd angle, and his left side took the brunt of impact with the ground. Maddox landed with a loud grunt, feeling his bed partner land right after. 'Damn, the floor feels super hard today, doesn't it?' He edged onto his elbows, pulling tangled legs out of the sheets. Everything looked suspiciously light, considering he was meant to leave at the crack of dawn. “Okay, screw the caffeine. I'm up now. You okay, Kali? Don't tell me I slept through my alarm agai--” His face was met with a dagger or curved knife of some sort as it slashed its way out of the tangled sheets. The weapon still displayed a streak of blood from his hand. The face behind it, flickering between shock and ire, was most certainly not Kali. “What the—who the hell?” His posture tilted back, away from the blade and mostly on his elbows and lower back.
“Minhires scum! The price for sneaking into the Princess’ bedroom will cost you your head. Ruining my sheets? I’ll take your payment with your life!” She stood slowly, dressed in an outfit ridiculously unfit for the words coming out of her mouth. Who was this, and why was she holding this metal claw up to his face? 'Have we dated? Another crazy ex-girlfriend?' No, couldn't be. He didn't have the best track record, but at least he remembered women he'd gone out with. He didn't recognize this one at all. Besides, having his own throat threatened would be a new low on that list. If she wasn't an ex, was she attempting a break in? Was he being robbed, at bladepoint, in his own apartment? In broad daylight? How did this chick even get in? 'What's she talking about, sneaking into a princess' bedroom, and her sheets?' He scrutinized her disheveled look and slight twinge of desperation. Was she tripping out, or delusional? Either way made her unpredictable, and he was currently on low ground.
“Oh, ******** this.” He tucked his feet up under the angle of the weapon and gave the woman a shove backward. It caught her off-guard enough that she was forced back and dropped the blade. That gave him room to stand up safely, albeit in his undignified boxer-and-undershirt combination, and put some distance between them. “If you think you're gonna get anything out of this place just because you've got a pointy object, think again. I just got that TV a few months ago – no way am I letting it get carried out the door that easy.”
His head and stomach pounded and lurched as he forced himself straight. They threatened to force him to the floor, but he resisted and finally got a decent look around. Nothing was familiar. The bed he'd fallen out of - the room itself, which took up more space than his entire apartment - “Wait, where the hell is this? Where am I?!”And if he was here, why was the bedroom empty besides him and dagger chick? “Where's Kali?! Where are the dogs?! What did you do to them?!” His eyes snapped back to the blue-haired woman, thinking the worst of her and that weapon. “God, If you've done anything to any of them, I swear...” He let the threat dangle unfinished and rhetorical.
She took a moment to examine him back, then stared into a corner of the room. Was she even paying attention? Her posture straightened, and she gave a subtle stretch and flex of her arm that his instincts recognized as a pre-fight motion. “Oh, goddamit.” Fighting some woman in a slip of a nightgown was not on his to-do list, and his headache and sour stomach already made him feel beat up. Were her nails always that long? Something flashed in the woman's face. She lunged, and he barely dodged being swiped with a clawing motion. The high-pitched whine as her finger talons missed and scraped the wall cranked his headache up to splitting for an instant. 'Completely out of her mind!' He still maintained distance while he determined whether to let her wear herself out flailing or just outright pin her to try and get some answers about his missing bedmates. Would she even comprehend the questions?
Someone banged on a door at the far end of the room. “Is the Sky Person with you, princess? The king has requested both of your presences—and he does not like to wait. Please hurry and make yourselves presentable.” 'Princess again? And king? What kind of Alice in Wonderland house is this?' The rest of the statement meant nothing to Maddox. The woman, however, shouted something in response, then flipped her gold-eyed stare back at him. She burst out something about him being “one of the chosen.” Her face blanched, and he saw most of the aggression slip out of her. It gave Maddox time to process his situation. So, he was here with no memory of arrival, feeling like hell trampled his head... surrounded by a psycho and declarations of royalty and “chosen ones.” He was beginning to think he'd been drugged and abducted into a bad cult. Why him, he had no damned idea, but she seemed to be more clued in. “Alright nutball, how about you make this a hell of a lot easier and tell me what the ******** is going on? And while you're at it, where my friends are: girl about my age, two dogs. They were there with me when I was kidnapped and brought here, so where are they now?” Refusing to break eye contact with the stranger, he crouched and picked up one of the slivers of bedsheet she'd shredded, using it to wrap up the injury bleeding down his palm. The dropped weapon's location, he kept in a mental note just in case.
The stranger gave a few sentences of vague explanation. Better than nothing; at least that claw woman here didn't give any indication she'd harmed Kali or the dogs. What was Avierat? Was that here? His brows knitted together at a mention of him holding his tongue, though she vanished into her closet before he decided if he was going to grace that with a response. She returned fully clothed and offering him some outfit that she “would be honored” to see him wear. Judging by her tone, she would actually be more honored if the room set on fire first. He took and examined it. His face scrunched up. “The hell is this? Some kind of costume?” It was banged up, too, like someone wore it to a Renaissance faire too many times. Would it be more embarrassing to meet a so-called “king” in his current lack of clothing, or while wearing that? He was less willing to scoff at the cloth offered to wrap up his hand, even if the, “Thanks,” he gave while taking it sounded lacking. The same distracted tone came out when he provided his own name in response to this Saaru. “Maddox.” The distant doors opened afterward, and the men who had slammed on it earlier entered. For lack of better description, they looked like Game of Thrones extras. They didn't look like the kind to be resisted, either, so for now he let himself be led down an exceedingly long and large hallway. Saaru had said something about a prophet knowing if Kali and the dogs were here. If playing along would get him that information, he'd do it for now. The strange costume-outfit remained loosely in his grip, as he hadn't decided if it was worth wearing.
He had to give them credit; if this wasn't actually a castle, the place gave off enough of a vibe. They didn't pass close enough to any windows to give him a glance out and see where he was, though. The guards stopped in front of a couple large doors towards the long, winding end of the hall, and led them in.
Okay, now he was convinced he might actually be in a castle. On his first quick look around the room the guards were leading him into, he muttered a quiet, “Holy ********] to himself.
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ooc: Remember kiddos, Maddox is not to be used as an influence on proper language and/or behavior. tabtab Also POST LENGTH. I'M SO SORRY.
The tight press of the guards eased as soon as Maddox and Saaru entered the large room, and Maddox made quick work of establishing distance between them. When he was finished taking in the actual room itself, he noticed one thing that wasn't in it. This High Prophet, or king, or whomever they were supposed to be meeting with. That meant no explanation on where he was, or what was happening, or answers on what happened to Kali and the dogs. The impatient scowl on his face deepened. He turned around to demand an answer from Saaru, or maybe even the guards, but his the entrance to the room opened again and drew his attention. “Marq? What the hell?!” He didn't think he could get any more confused, but apparently he could. Not only was this old friend of his not Kali, but Marq didn't even live in the apartment complex Maddox did. Why was he here? Were these people doing door-to-door kidnappings in their hometown?
More people slowly arrived, and he started noticing a pattern. Strangers, always accompanied with familiar faces. “Siri? Akane?!” The anger beneath his confusion temporarily took over when he saw dried blood in Siri's smeared clown makeup. Had his friends received the same aggression he had when they woke up here? His bloodied hand with the makeshift wrap curled into a fist. He didn't have time to say anything about it, though, as Marq swooped in to assist her first. Considering the complicated history between those two, he decided not to interrupt.
His dominant expression returned to confusion when Akane actually asked if they were okay. Inquiring about his health... she must be thrown for a complete loop. Her next words made even less sense: something about one of the strangers transforming into a mutt? Maddox's face looked blank for a moment, but of course. That Saaru had acted like a drugged up maniac, and he was still feeling groggy and nauseous. He gave a suspicious glance at the inhabitants of the place and looked back. “My guess on this place is some sorta insane cult, and I'm not sure that we haven't been drugged. Don't drink the ******** Kool-Aid.” His thoughts by the end of the comment were preoccupied. This was four of them, out of their group of five. “Then where--” Last to arrive was his best friend, carried unceremoniously by a woman Maddox assumed was part of the cult. “Kali!” He dashed over as his friend was dropped off. “You okay? You hurt?” A familiar canine followed behind Kali, and Maddox's arm wrapped his arm over Bee. Kali was saying something that was largely Disney references. Something about Mulan? He wasn't sure. She didn't seem hurt, or particularly frightened, even, which he was grateful for, but something was missing. “Kali, where's Ro?”
Doors opened again, and the small crowd gathered in the room were joined by what Maddox could only assume was a royal procession. So, if the two at the front of it were the supposed king and queen of this place (aka some rich cult leaders with probably good evangelical charisma), then the old man hobbling behind them was probably this so-called High-Prophet. He looked rather at peace and pleased as he ambled his way to face Maddox and his friends where they clustered together. 'Happy with the mess you've caused here, old man?' No doubt he was. Maddox was pretty sure this was the point in a cult where they declared their kidnap victims some sort of sacrifice to appease god so-and-so and ensure everyone else's acceptance by said god. He'd placed himself toward the front of the group of friends defensively, especially Kali, despite her current lack of concern in the situation. His chances of actually doing a lick of good in a room surrounded by guards and psychopaths were beyond slim to none, but he didn't feel like backing up and letting this crazy squad take his friends first.
"You have all been brought here for a very specific purpose,” The man said. “You must never forget that. Now listen close, for there is a gift we must bestow upon each of you.” “Yeah, and how much poison does does this gift involve?'
As if hearing his thoughts, the old man turned to face to him. “Maddox.”
“What?! How--?!” Hold on a tick. How did this guy know his name? The so-called prophet continued despite the interruption. “Your gift will save the lives, of not only your own but those of your friends too. You do not yet know that this gift is stronger than that of our own. Use it well.” The hell did that mean? What was this guy talking about? Maddox opened his mouth to protest – tried to open his mouth to protest – and found himself frozen in place. His voice caught in his throat, breathing locked, muscles refusing to budge. A peculiar gold light shone from the top of the room. As soon as it reached his head, he felt something in his immobile self unlock. 's**t! They must've already poisoned us!' His insides twisted in a quick surge of nausea, as if the old man had been able to reach in and knot them up. His heart rate increased, blood pressure surged until the pounding ached in his chest. It surged down his arms until it was a pulsing pain in his hands, as if it was searching for an outlet to escape. It felt like his own strength was trying to leave him – go somewhere - do something. It was too much. Whatever was happening, it was too much, and he couldn't move and couldn't breathe...
The gold light faded, and the binding restriction and pain left in a flicker. Released from their grip, Maddox gasped in a new breath of air. He doubled over, knees and hands hitting the floor while the room spun and his nausea faded. 'Well, I'm not dead.' he should be grateful for that, but he'd be just as grateful for an explanation on what just happened. The old prophet moved on, though, giving similar cryptic words and light shows to his friends. Kali clung to him somewhere along the line. He was too hazy to distinguish when, exactly. By the time the prophet had come to her, Maddox was back on his feet, if hunched over and unsteady. He caught her curiously approaching the old man out of the corner of his eye. “Kali, no.” His voice came dry and hoarse, and his breathing wasn't even yet. An effort to grab and hold Kali back from giving the old man a hands-on greeting didn't meet with full success.
Once the prophet was finished, the woman Maddox assumed was the queen spoke up. It was the general bullshit babble they had heard all morning, mostly, except for one important part of her speech. “Marriages? What? What...the hell are they talking about?” He wasn't sure who was even speaking to with that portion. At least he was fully upright now.
The blue-haired princess who had tried to claw him open earlier spoke to one of the other cult members, clearly loud enough for everyone to hear and trying to foist Maddox on him as a roommate. “I am not sharing rooms with any of you religious prophecy nuts, thank you very much.” Nor did he have any plans on marrying some insane offspring of their doomsday religion.
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ooc: Pass out denied emotion_dowant
Well, what the hell were they going to do now? The old man had more or less assaulted them all in turn, something had been mentioned about marriages, and everyone was shoved around to their own devices. He figured this would be a good time for them to get questions answered, but observing and pestering the native cult members for the evening didn't yield much. While everyone seemed aware of this Sky People prophecy, no one seemed to have a clue how it worked or what good he and his friends would do, now that they had been magically summoned. The one who had the greatest idea, the High Prophet/Seer who nearly killed Maddox, was announced as dead hours after their arrival. Maddox couldn't say he was particularly sad about the man's passing, considering the circumstances, but it did add to his frustration. Their biggest hope for answers was now permanently out of the picture, unless they were faking his death to pull some, “He's back; it's a miracle!” scenario later. He wouldn't put that past them.
Of course, the old man had offered one final knot in the already tangled web before he went: announcing engagements. The fact that the top ranks of the castle seemed to go along with it only proved how deep they all were into their little cult. Maddox and his friends had each been paired with someone from the castle: sharing rooms, given an undetermined future promise of marriage, et cetera. Maddox had picked at the meal they were brought to, squeezing tightly among the group of his friends at that dinner and scowling through most of it. Wasn't kidnapping them enough? What was with the arranged marriages deal? Who had that Seer thought he was, the magic tree or something?
The tree.
'Oh, no. Oh, ********]
No, it couldn't be. There was no way the tree could have had anything to do with this. Actually believing it could hook people up with a soulmate was enough of a stretch. He'd believed that as a child, raised by his otherwise no-nonsense parents claiming that was how they met. But even his faith in that had faded. Thinking that their little childhood wish could lead to...this? It was too ridiculous to be true. Besides, the people here seemed to think their arrival was due to a prophecy and the Seer's skills. 'No, we were kidnapped,' he continued to tell himself. He wasn't going to let himself be swayed into believing in this magic and prophecy jargon now, especially as he still wasn't sure if the food and drink they were served was drug-free. Large parts of this place could simply be a mass hallucination.
Maddox's supposed fiancee was a General Rylen Lomasi, the striped-haired woman who carried Kali into the throne room that morning. Kali hadn't been afraid of her, so maybe things could be worse? He'd much prefer to share a room with Kali, or any of his own friends, but at least this time he wasn't stuck with someone determined to disembowel him. Maybe. What he had been stuck with was an unfamiliar chamber of the castle, and only one bed for the two of them. 'Great. Don't give anyone time to adjust. Just throw it together and do some cult prayers that it works.' Rooming together was enough; he wasn't in the mood to share a mattress with a complete stranger, especially if that might imply that he was accepting the situation. His betrothed was also quick to prove that she preferred to exist in various states of undress. That was the final piece to convince him into a gigantic, “No.” Maddox was accustomed to being part of a snuggling tangle with Kali, Bee, and Ro. The last thing he needed (besides being attacked with a blade again) was to wake up curled and clinging to an undressed cultist. He swiped the extra pillows that had been brought for him and carried them to another piece of furniture. His fiancee seemed to find that wildly amusing.
Like on his last night home, falling asleep was a struggle. One moment, his head ran through a dozen scenarios of death should he be dumb enough to doze off in this place. The next, it worried if the rest of his friends were okay in their respective rooms, or tried to puzzle what the old Seer had meant with his words from earlier in the day. Your gift will save the lives, of not only your own but those of your friends too.” Gift? Saving lives? If saving lives meant he could do something to get his friends out of here, he was game. But, what, “Gift?” Maddox's useful skills consisted of fixing cars, working with tools, and being able to take a punch or two. He had a feeling the first was useless. There had been no sign of electricity so far in this place, so he could only assume cars weren't a thing. The other two options, he could maybe see being beneficial, but no ideas came to his head on how it would get them out. It wasn't like they could pull a reverse Trojan Horse to escape, and being able to take a hit meant nothing when they were surrounded by guards with weapons and an unfamiliar location.
After eventually falling into an unsteady sleep, he was jerked awake by a body flopping on top of him. “Kali?” No, wait. That had been his thought the that morning, and his hand was still healing from that encounter with Saaru. If this was another murder attempt-- he sat partway up and gave half a shout as his face nearly bumped into a feminine one, framed by striped hair. “What the --- the hell are you doing?” Even in the dark, he could sense Rylen's Cheshire Cat grin as she sat on him. A few jabs were aimed his direction at his refusal to share the bed. He tried to shove her off...wait, was she naked? 'Oh, God.' This place was determined to kill him with shock, if not by angry princesses or magical old men. Actually getting Rylen off him was not an easy task. As suited a First General, the woman's physique was nothing but muscle that didn't budge if it didn't want to, and apparently lying unclad across a stranger was a source of fun for her rather than a dangerous idea. Her lack of clothing doubled his difficulty, as he struggled to avoid contact with the wrong parts of her in the unlit room. His frustrated fit trying to work around that just seemed to entertain her more.
The remaining week only confirmed his original thoughts: this place was a madhouse. There were things he expected, like the servants and clothes and meals being prepared for him (which all made him incredibly uncomfortable). But the higher ranks of the place were a motley crew of personalities, half of them caught in their own chaos and interpersonal issues. Rylen had not done any more sans-clothes flopping on him... while he was asleep. She had the forethought now to only repeat the behavior when he was awake, and usually right when he was starting to relax or rest. Overall, she was surprisingly informal and seemed to be taking the whole prophesy idea with a grain of salt, which added to his confusion the first few days until he figured out she ran around half-clad in front of everyone, not just him. Overall, he was pretty sure she treated him somewhere between a fun prank target and a high-maintenance pet. Outside of that, she seemed to spend a good amount of time avoiding murdering her half-brother, the Caelus that Kali had been paired off with. That was another issue in itself. “Caeston,” as Kali sometimes dubbed him, did fit the haughty superior attitude Maddox would have expected in a castle, maybe too well. There was a long list of ideas and questions Kali found rejected by him, with the most significant one being her having any contact with Rylen. Tough luck on that. Kali had already been sneaking off when her fiance was absent or asleep at night, curling up with Bee and Maddox in Rylen's quarters. Kali was convinced she was serving as some sort of defensive bed barrier for her best friend against Rylen. In reality, she was more so saving Maddox from himself. Her presence was the only reason he started sleeping in the proper bed and getting what could actually be called proper rest. She and Bee gave him something familiar to cling to after another day of a foreign location and a building full of strangers. Plus, the chances of accidentally wrapping around a partially-robed Rylen were lower when his best friend and their canine family member were in closer reach. If he did find himself flinging an arm around the wrong figure, it was also easier to crawl back over and correct that.
Speaking of Kali, the undershirt he'd been wearing when he arrived - the last of his own non-medieval clothing left besides his boxers - that had gone suspiciously missing.
Maddox had mostly avoided contact with a lot of the castle's other residents, preferring to stick to the friends he already trusted. He didn't miss the glances from those who felt these new intruders were unwanted, and he certainly didn't miss the whispers and avoidance aimed at Kali. There was some sort of inexplicable fear here regarding her. He didn't understand it, he didn't like it, and he was more than willing to return glares to anyone who looked at her funny when the two of them were together. The only other castle member besides Rylen he had interacted with much was the Chancellor Kai. Maybe Maddox hadn't trusted the curiously self-deprecating guy when he showed up with wine and ridiculously polite conversation. Could anyone blame him? That was a top way people ended up dead in murder mysteries, right? But after a week, and watching the way this place functioned, Maddox was getting convinced the awkward attempt at friendship might actually be genuine. Though, for Chrissake sake, Kai, it was Maddox and not Sir Allen.
The week also exposed him to the castle residents' transforming. Maddox had written that off as a hallucination at first, just like everything else. But a week of witnessing the same thing over and over was wearing down the idea. In addition, the native people here seemed to think it was normal. He and his “human” friends were the weak anomaly for not being able to do the same. And if Rylen couldn't actually transform, and this was all in his head, that damn eagle screech he imagined was strong enough to compete with the loudest of his own mother's shouts. There were no new developments so far as the Sky People prophecy; the Seer's death seemed to put that on a standstill. Escaping was also an idea going nowhere. Maybe if they could actually get an idea where they were... Maddox had actually stolen/borrowed one of the books of maps from the castle's vast library in a desperate attempt to find a name or land mass that looked familiar. Nothing. The shapes and titles on the pages had meant nothing to him. He passed the book on to Kali, but she had no more success. For the moment, they were still stuck, though Maddox held out hope that they might make it home somehow. Even when he imagined the shouting he'd endure from his parents after returning, or the job hunting in store after his father inevitably fired him for having the nerve to vanish without a word: he would take all of that, if it meant he could just go back.
On the afternoon a full week after their arrival, Maddox had busied himself in a corner of the castle that had been set aside for his building hobby. He had picked it up within a few days here and been provided with some tools and supplies to keep himself busy. The castle residents probably enjoyed that it lessened how much he scowled and complained around the place, and it gave him a productive outlet for his persistent frustration. At the moment, he was hammer in hand, nails held in teeth, working on whatever this piece of furniture was going to be. Maybe a small table of some sort. He also happened to be sporting a rather un-Maddox-like ring of flowers around his head. Kali had been running around the past twenty-four hours or so handing flower crowns to just about anyone she was on good terms with. Maddox wouldn't have refused them in any case, but when he also found out they were flowers swiped from Caeston's private garden, then yes indeed, he was wearing that crown.
A rustling sound indicated someone sidling up behind him, accompanied by a shadow that blocked his view of the half-finished project. Usually most everyone except Kali left him alone when he was busy in his little woodshop corner. He turned around and was met with a face full of feathers. “Ngh! ******** hell.” Dropping the nails into his hand before he swallowed them, he backed up until he could actually look the beast-form Rylen in the face instead of the plumage. He still wasn't accustomed to this whole creature form thing, and even then, how did he not hear that thing coming earlier? “Okay, I'm not even going to ask how you snuck up on me like that!” His attention was drawn to a weird sling-like contraption fastened around her, and his face screwed up into a look of confusion. “Uh, hey Kai.” He had noticed throughout the week that Rylen did have a habit of randomly stealing away the Chancellor, to a point where Maddox was a little suspicious of the relationship between the two, so he shouldn't have been so surprised. But the sling was new. He glanced back up at Rylen's eagle face. “What the hell's going on?”
Rylen gave some sort of declaration that Maddox and Kai were both being kidnapped to go somewhere with her. He squinted and crossed his arms. “What if I don't feel like getting 'kidnapped?' Do I actually get a say in this?” Who was he kidding? It was Rylen. There was no say in it. Besides, it sounded like this was a promise to leave the castle. He'd been cooped up in here for a full week. Sure, it was a vast place, but being behind the walls 24/7 was starting to get to him. Call it a medieval version of cabin fever. 'Outside the castle, without a shitton of guards and escorts on top of it...' His arms unlocked into a shrug. “Alright, fine. I'm game.” He pointed at the sling. “I'm not sharing that thing, though. No offense, Kai, but I think two of us in there would be an awkward squeeze. Not in the mood.”
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Perma-overwhelmed/fine, I'll give up and go along with it tabtabtabtabLocation: Corner of the castle set aside for his woodworking tabtabtabtabWith: Rylen and Kai tabtabtabtabTalking to: Same as above tabtabtabtabOutfit: Probably some tunic/pants combo plus the flower crown tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Rylen seemed happy when he agreed to go along with whatever her plan was. The little excited bounce she did was actually kind of cute for a towering beast with talons: not that he was about to tell the First General she'd just reminded him of a kid at Christmas. These people probably didn't even know what Christmas was, anyway. As for his refusal to share the sling, though, that brought a confused pondering to her eagle face, even if Kai seemed understanding of the predicament. Really, given Rylen, Maddox expected to hear a “too bad” and be crammed with the Chancellor anyway. Instead, she launched into the air and over his head. Maddox barely caught his flower crown as the draft from Rylen's wings tried to blow it away. She headed for the nearest row of windows, then proceeded to...attack one?
“The hell's she doing?” Maddox watched in confusion, wincing in sympathy for whatever poor worker would be tasked with repairing the mess. Maybe she decided his stubbornness on mode of travel wasn't fun enough, and she'd gone to seek another victim. He shrugged, wrapping the flower crown around his wrist in a makeshift bracelet. He was about to go back to his woodwork when the hippogriff's victorious cry came from overhead. She landed back on the ground with a thud, clutching what looked like someone's bed sheets in her beak and bounding her way back over. “Well, that's a solution, I guess. Are we just making another sling then, or-- hey! W-wait a minute. Stop it!” Rylen started herding him, prodding with her beak while avoiding tripping on the bed sheets. With a couple more confused protests and complaints, he was swaddled up in the sheets like an infant, and Rylen launched into the air without him. “What was that all about?” If leaving him like this was some joke on his defiance, he did look pretty damn ridiculous, so kudos. The First General performed a swooping turn mid-air, settling at a glide a few feet from the ground and heading right for him. 'Oh, s**t.' Now he understood what she was doing, and he clenched his teeth for the inevitable jolt. She snatched his bundled self from the ground like a prey item and hauled into the sky. Maddox did give one final yelp before the motion jarred most of the air out of his lungs.
The ascent bombarded him with a mix of fear and curiosity. On one hand, there was the terrifying reality that he was being hauled in the air by a monster-person with little more than talons and bed sheets to secure him. Despite his mechanical inclinations, he'd only experienced plane travel once or twice when he was younger. His family's idea of vacations usually involved camping or a road trip, not jetting to far-off destinations. Any other experiences with open-air heights were limited to a few roller coasters and whatever higher levels he'd reached trying to keep up with Marq's parkour skills. Safe to say, he was beyond any amusement park height now. The reality that he was a slip away from being a red-haired splat on the ground nagged at him. On the other hand, he found himself watching the land below him roll past, at least what he could through the harsh wind of air travel. Really, his largest issue was that he didn't feel quite secure being in a papoose state with no way to maneuver himself. After a little bit of struggling (but not too much to break him unsafely loose), he managed to free one arm at least and use it to grip above one of Rylen's taloned feet. At least that way, he felt he was hanging on partially out of his own volition.
When finally dropped off on solid ground, Maddox caught his footing and shook off the effects of being cramped so long in the tied position he'd been carried in, including shaking off the bed sheets themselves. 'Well, good luck to whoever's those things are.' Now they were collecting dust and dirt on the ground, and he noticed more than one unintentional talon slash mark.
Rylen transformed herself back, put on some clothes (that part surprised him), and finally disclosed her idea of the day's adventure. He spent a good part of the talk examining the caves in question. Caves, legends, something about angry spirits or monsters...angry spirits and monsters? “Huh.” The noise came out nearly as a laugh. The story sounded like one older kids would tell younger ones to scare them for fun. He was in a land of transforming people and crazy prophets, and there were still ghost stories. That was unexpected. “You've got to be kidding.” He glanced at the First General. “You do know you just flew us here, right? Full Animorphs mode? What even counts as a 'flesh-eating beast' in this place?”
He listened to Kai's words, too, though the, “He's only human,” part rubbed the wrong way despite having good intentions. Maddox was surprised the Chancellor wasn't outright trying to politely pull out of the situation. Did the other man have a little more guts than Maddox initially thought, or what he just so used to Rylen's antics that he'd given up fighting them? And despite his scoffing at the spooky story earlier, the human of the trio was taking the idea of a predator animal seriously. Angry spirits sounded ridiculous, but that childhood camping experience found angry wildcats or bears a reasonable possibility, along with dangerous falls and other cave hazards. By the time Rylen and Kai were finished talking, he was examining the mouth of the cave Rylen had seemed to indicate as their starting point. He crouched and examined the ground just outside it, squinted to what parts inside he could see from there, then picked up a couple stones before standing back up. “If there's anything not-ghost living in the cave, it can't be too big. I don't see any prints, and anything close to Rylen's size would probably be leaving obvious claw marks if it came in and out every day.” He looked over at the hippogriph. “Hell, the space doesn't look wide enough for you to even unfold your wings all the way, so it can't be too big a beast if it's flying its way in instead.”
He looked back at the cave's mouth, tossing one of the stones in his hand up before catching it and sending it skittering across the floor of the cave. It clattered into the darkness until it vanished from sight and earshot. He didn't heard it splash or make obvious sounds of dropping or being stopped, so the immediate entrance area was probably accessible. The man crossed his arms. “Most likely some local kids wandered in without knowing what they were doing, or someone decided to go spelunking by themselves and got trapped. Have that happen a couple times, and suddenly a place is 'cursed.'” He ended the sentence with air quotes and looked back at Kai. “Besides, wouldn't being left behind on my own be dangerous in its own way at this point?” After all, he had no clue where he was in relationship to the castle at this point, and being “only human,” he'd probably be an easy target for anything (or one) unsavory. His mouth was wavering somewhere between honest and the hint of a grin. “Looks like we're all in. Won't be the first dumb thing I've done. I'll bring up the rear, if you're so worried, Kai.”
Taking a step towards the front of the cave, he used the pale stone remaining in his hand to mark the entrance in question with a crude arrow, using the small rock like chalk. Camping rule number one: keep track of where you are and which way you went. He looked back over at Rylen. This was her idea, after all, and she had the weapon. “So, ladies first? Tell me you actually brought something to see where you're going.”
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Rylen seemed amused enough that he was willing to go along with this cave exploration, dumb idea as it probably was. She had a good point, too, about the other entrances. That was actually the reason Maddox had marked the arrow on this one. If whatever route they took popped them out of another cave mouth that looked the same, or just turned them in a big circle back to this one, they'd know. As for an animal using an alternate entrance, and there being potential danger in the cave from that, it was a little too late for him to back out now. I mean, Rylen seemed from her current mood to do this on a regular basis, and she was still alive, right?
Kai was surprisingly still compliant to this exploration plan, as well. That still surprised him.
In response to Maddox's question about a light, Rylen made as serious a face as he'd ever seen on her and acted like he was supposed to see in the dark. The chalk-marker rock safely in some unseen pocket of his outfit, he extended his hands in an obvious, “what the hell?” expression. “You were just debating how weak and useless us humans were, weren't you?”
She was joking, of course, and she produced a lantern from her bag. “Oh, ha-ha.” Maybe he felt a little stupid once she pulled out the lantern and he realized the joke, but he'd only been here a week. He was also still getting a read on everyone and what they did and didn't know, about humans and about the difference between their world here and the “human only” one back home. That prophecy concept they all were supposed to be part of...that didn't help.
The next supplies she pulled were also practical, though entirely different. His eyebrows perked up somewhere between surprise, confusion, and curiosity at the daggers. Daggers, they were, after all. Those weren't any sort of ordinary knife. He gave the weapons a visual once-over while Kai decided which he wanted. No belt? That suited Maddox just fine. He tied the belted one around himself, removing the blade briefly as if getting a proper feel for it held significance. “Hell,” he mumbled, speaking to himself more than anyone. “It's a lot different than a utility knife, but the maker sure knew what they were doing.” He supposed high-quality supplies just came as part of Rylen's rank and all; maybe Maddox didn't have experience with daggers, but he knew a well-made tool when he held one. Even for as simple as this one was, it had a good heft and balance.
It seemed strangely fitting. He was for whatever reason trusting these two enough to go into a creepy cave with them for no important reason (other than fun and adventure, as Rylen would put it), and here they were trusting him with something that straight-up looked like a medieval murder weapon. Hammer and nail were one thing; this was another. Maybe they were all supposed to be getting along with each other and being so-called “chosen ones,” but Maddox and his friends were still technically kidnapped and more or less captives. Sure, he knew Rylen and Kai best of the native castle inhabitants so far, but still he wouldn't have expected to be flat-out handed a weapon after week one, like he was one of the gang. Then again, Rylen could probably just tear a “normal” human like him to shreds anyway, so maybe they didn't perceive how odd and maybe trusting the act seemed to him.
He put the dagger back into its sheath and accompanied the other two into the cave. The human of the group brought up the back of the trio, as had been the original thought. Once they were inside, Rylen asked for clarification on an “Animorph.” 'Oh, damn.' How was he supposed to explain that? “Well...” He spent a couple seconds examining the walls of the cave while he puzzled how to respond. “It's a series of books, and a TV show--” 'Nope, they won't even know what a TV is.' “Uh, a group of stories, I guess. Just call it that. There are these kids, and they can transform into a bunch of different animals. See, where we come from, the whole - I don't know what to call it – but magic creatures, and transforming, things like that... they don't exist. Animals are just animals, and people are just, I dunno, people.” He could just about picture Rylen saying, “How boring,” in response, no matter what she said aloud. “I mean, if someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd be hitching a ride with a, a, hippo-gryph? I'd have asked them what drugs they were taking.”
Sometimes, he still wasn't convinced he wasn't on any here.
“Magic and talking creatures are just fairy tales and fantasy where we're from...unless you've got a parrot or a chimp that's learned how to talk or sign. But that's not the same thing.” Spoken like that, it really did make their worlds sound boring, didn't it? “We've got a lot of technology instead, though. I mean, maybe we can't fly, but we have machines that do. And ones for traveling underwater, and over land way faster than any animal can run...”
The list was cut short before he could turn it into a ramble, and he shrugged before he spoke again. “That was what I worked on mostly, back home. Machines.”
Was it a mistake to admit he was a working class amongst these higher-ups? Class was a big thing in medieval time periods, wasn't it? Well, so be it. It wasn't as if his mannerisms weren't dead giveaways of that, in any case, and it wasn't as if he'd asked to be brought here as part of their prophesy.
He took a few more seconds to examine the cave walls. It was a pretty place inside, too, not just out. He could feel the circulation of air, giving a whistling off some of the stones that could well pass for a voice. 'No spirits so far.' The only thing he noticed was Kai, who had been curiously right up front before, taking a few quiet steps back. The Chancellor moved from right up front with Rylen to distinctly behind her, more in step with Maddox himself.
The redhead turned to face him, one brow up if that was even visible in the poor light. “Not backing out, are you? You haven't seemed to have a problem so far.” One side of his mouth curved upward. “You're not hearing any ghosts, are you?”
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It occurred to Maddox after his description of earthly transport that he had referred to his mechanic profession in past tense. Machines were what he 'worked' on back home? Wrong. They are what he 'works' on back home. Even a week in, he still had remaining hope of getting out of this place. He would have to stop himself from slipping into that past tense garbage again...
Distracted by the adventure, or perhaps just confused by his poor description of his home world's features, most of Maddox's explanations were merely listened to. Rylen's only response was, “I’d like to visit your world, it sounds fascinating but I would hate to stay there.” 'The feeling's mutual,' He would have said if they weren't interrupted first. Not that this world of prophets and beasts and transforming people wasn't fascinating, but he still preferred to be home where electricity and cars were already well established.
Interrupted they were, though. After Kai gave a smile that was slightly unsettling – Maddox never trusted the sincerity of a grin given without without eye contact – the cavern thundered to life as something burst from the path ahead of them. Maddox didn't see the monstrous blob of a creature in the dark until it passed by Rylen's lamplight, but he heard it heading for them like a train thundering down a track. He had enough instinct to try to get away thanks to a lifetime of questionable decisions (walking on train tracks was somewhere low on that ladder). But he wasn't quite fast enough. Whatever the beast was, it barreled at him and Kai, clipping his shoulder as he tried to avoid it. The force shoved him into the stone wall of the cave, and he gave a grunt as his back struck the rock.
Kai fared worse. After sliding back down to his feet, Maddox saw in a brief glance that the other man was pinned by the creature. He gave a shout that was somewhere between frustration and trying to call out to the tackled Chancellor, but Rylen was faster. Before his dagger was more than halfway out of its sheath, the First General sprang to action, slicing the creature down its side. While poorly lit in the cave, it was a rather impressive move befitting her military status.
The monster made a gurgling sound, then collapsed into a puddle of goop, most certainly dead. He released his grip on the dagger hilt as the space filled with the stench of dead herbivore. Rylen gave a petulant, “No.” at the vanquished creature, as if her will alone could bring it back to be more of a fight. But part of the glimpse Maddox had seen of it had been that gaping mouth full of flat teeth, suiting its rotten grass smell.
“I think it was a plant eater,” He said. “That would make it act more defense than offense, wouldn't it?” That would off-hand be less of a battle, right?...
Except for towards Kai, apparently. The other man was peeling himself off the floor, covered in dead animal glop and looking shaken and worse for wear. Maddox was surprised. As frequently as Rylen swooped away the Chancellor for her mystery shenanigans, he would have expected the other man to be quicker on his feet, or at least more accustomed to getting tossed around. That didn't seem to be the case. “Here. Hold on.” He reached out to give Kai a hand standing up.
That was a mistake.
As he helped haul the man up by the arm, Maddox felt a jolt somewhere in the contact point. No, he couldn't call it that. A jolt would indicate he'd been attacked with some sort of energy, when in fact the opposite was true. It was more like something had been pulled from him instead. He jerked his hand away before the sensation could worsen. A tired feeling washed over him for an instant, accompanied with a sort of nausea. With the dizzying combination came what he could only consider an instant flash of information. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew that somehow, some of Kai's copious new bruises were no longer there. Not many, but some.
Maddox staggered to create a couple feet of distance and gave the other man a confused, unhappy look as the disorientation faded. “What – what the ********]
Did the people here have some kind of energy absorption powers? No one had mentioned that. He would have liked to know that beforehand, thank you.
The cave adventure didn't leave time to mull it over. Rylen said something about not letting a creature get away, and Maddox turned his attention to the sounds in the cave, including the unsettling scrape of something sharp against stone. It looked like the First General was getting her wish for a better fight after all. Maddox pulled his dagger free completely this time – not that it would be needed, if Rylen flashed around more quickly than they could – and tried to focus despite his obvious disadvantages of being a non-beast in a dark cave.
However, the position he took was on the opposite side of Rylen from Kai.
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The return from the cave of imminent doom could be described as victorious. Technically, they weren't dead, though worse for wear at varying degrees. Their adventure indeed led to more creature fighting, though Rylen did pretty much all of that. So long as Maddox and Kai kept enough out of the way, most fights were over nearly as soon as they began. The true victim of the adventure was the flower crown Kali had given him, which hadn't surived the final encounter. As for how successful Rylen found the adventure, Maddox wasn't sure how close to death she had to get to consider something a real challenge.
He and Kai were deposited back at the castle, while Rylen went to do whatever she felt like doing. Maddox was still wary about staying in touchable distance of the Chancellor (both of them looked equally confused back in the cave, but who knew?), so he brushed himself off and picked up the remnants of the bedsheet that had served as his transport. With the rips from the first flight, it had taken some well-placed knots to ensure it didn't fall to tatters during the return. Now it was completely ruined. The human of the trio lugged it off to find, "..wherever the hell trash like this even goes in a castle."
He was on his way to change into something not spattered with creature bits when he came across Kali. At first, she fell into a worried fuss. He did look a mess, after all, though he was quick to assure her that physically he was better off than he looked (sort of). A bit tired, scuffed and bruised here and there, but he'd certainly had worse. Her concerns dissipated, she blew straight into a description of her own day, from Varion's Cerberus-style transformation to a conversation she had with Marq: a conversation about Caelus, apparently, and his oh-so-precious and never shared flowers. Flowers that had been shared, but not with his bubbly betrothed.
Actually, some of Cae's recent actions made sense. Cae's rose fascination, his perfectionist attention to fine details like fashion, and now offering flowers to Marq instead of his "fiancee" Kali...What if Caeston's tastes weren't quite what this medieval land's royal marriages would permit? Maddox wouldn't be surprised. Was he pissed that someone was playing favorites behind his bestie's back? Oh, yes. But surprised, no. And Kali already knew his opinions about the spy's mountain of "No's." His intermittent comments on this new development mostly boiled down to, "******** Cae and ******** his stupid roses." They didn't so much affect Kali's decisions as support them.
“I’m very, very sure that there’s a cheating clause in there somewhere so I’m just going to grab my stuff and stay with you and Ry and maybe Kai until we get out of here.” And with that, she was off, fearless and head high. Whatever his own input on the Caelus matter was, Kali was done. Smiling and pleasant, but done. Finished Mc-Done-ville. Maddox nearly warned her about the strange happening with Kai back in the cave but couldn't figure out how to word it without sounding insane. Maybe he could just convince her to stay with himself and Rylen until he got a better idea of things.
Once he was cleaned up and no longer looked like a horror movie extra, he was tracked down by Princess Saaru.
Well, wasn't he just Mr. Popular today.
The promise of getting outside the castle walls twice in one day was something he should be more willing to jump at, but he was worn from the day's earlier adventure and had been planning to focus on completing his carpentry project. That was not to be. Saaru was vague about her reasons for wanting his company. His own suspicions wondered if she had been aware of all this Caelus/Marq secrecy and was using him as a sort of rebound for her residual salt. Whatever the reason, she wasn't saying, but she was determined. Saaru may have used vague threats, possibly about a leash. Whether or not they were serious, he couldn't tell. She may have used the promise of buying him tools and supplies, which was more convincing. She may have used a combination of the two. Eventually, he found himself wandering through a marketplace with the blue-haired princess.
Inquiries as to what they were actually doing there were easily ignored by the princess, who meandered her way through the market in silence. Maddox merely rolled his eyes with a, "Fine, then," and let any additions to that phrase happen under his breath or in his head. He ignored the spare incredulous looks he received from passerby, likely gaping at this human smart-mouthing a non-human and not being instantly dismembered for it.
He received similar stares when items in the market actually caught his interest: a few stalls of finely-crafted furniture, one filled with parts and oddities he could find uses for, and one selling various tools and equipment. Hey, blacksmithing tools. There was a trade he'd never tried before... but all the shopkeepers gave him glares that indicated his curiosity was not welcome. He could return them all he wanted and even mutter choice words to get them to back off, but he was treated as a potential thief rather than customer. Must be another anti-human thing. Even if he had any of this kingdom's money to spend, he was pretty sure no one here would let him use it.
"Hey! For ******** sake--" He mumbled to himself and caught up with wherever she had continued to walk while he was scrutinizing the wares. It wasn't like he knew his way back to the castle from here, so now he was truly stuck tagging along. Even if he could see the castle itself from most parts of the city, figuring out what roads would lead back to it wasn't a guarantee.
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Saaru had paid no mind to Maddox's distractions, or that their window/stall-shopping had almost lost him. As she looked up to speak to him, it was clear she had never even bothered to consider he might not be obediently next to her. Probably a princess thing. Maddox assumed she was not accustomed to having anything but her way from anyone beneath her.
“Pervert from across the sea?” “Pervert?" So, this was her official nickname for him now? She found plenty of amusement in it, though Maddox didn't seem to find it as funny. 'Yeah, because I really wanted to wake up here like I did.' Being a measly human here was turning out to be rough enough. The crown princess running around calling him a pervert wasn't going to help that. She referenced the ragged outfit she had offered to him to wear his first day there, then held up another one from the market stall as a supposed replacement. He shrugged and offered a confused, "Uh, sure, I guess." A week afterward was a little late in the game, wasn't it? He'd already appeared in front of half the castle in his underwear on day one. His brows quirked as he gave the items a look-over. Why did she even care about buying him anything? Was this a bribe of some sort? They'd just passed multiple stalls with more tempting items, so it couldn't be too big of a bribe. Maybe the plain outfit would be more useful for when he was working in his little carpentry corner. Not that his opinion held much weight in her actions.
The purchase made, she decided to start a casual conversation with him. His opinion on the castle grounds? How honest was he supposed to be about that? "I mean, it's a castle. It's big. It's kept up. They gave me space to do work so I don't go crazy." Being tended to by servants still bothered him. Half the rooms were so high-end, he was afraid of touching anything in them. He'd be more than willing to dump all this ridiculous finery for a decent car or electronic device. "Still don't see why we all have to play roommates, though." Of course the little culty group was interesting in making their pair-offs, but it still shocked him that they'd do any room sharing without forcing a marriage first. All their other ideals seemed so medieval. But he'd kept his mouth sealed about that: no need to give anyone ideas.
That commentary on Rylen, and sharing space with her being hard on his body...he wasn't sure how to take that. That was suspicious wording. His eyes narrowed a little to figure out if the question was innocent or not, and he gave the princess a meaningful look. "Had worse. At least she hasn't tried to slice me open yet." He gave Saaru a meaningful look at that.
Besides, the monsters might do that job for Rylen, anyway, if the cave was anything to go by. There was no mention of Rylen's little habit of flopping over him in her various states of undress to rile up a reaction. He wasn't willing to give Saaru that kind of fuel to use.
As for the comment of him using his words rather than hands... well, she was only half right. He could and sometimes did fight with his fists...when needed. But being the aggressor who started out with it first, that had rarely worked in his advantage for a long time now. His head tilted, indicating he was putting more effort or meaning into this part of his reply than the previous ones. "Okay, say I end up in a struggle with some girl, right? Maybe she turns out to be some sort of princess on top of it. Tell me which sounds better: 'I didn't throw a punch at her; I just tried to keep her away,' or 'I swear her black eye was because she started it.' "
He half-shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Had enough bad girlfriends, thanks. Learned enough. Maybe I'm not always the brightest bulb, but I'm not that dumb." Okay, none of his ex-girlfriends (McThottievilles, if you asked Kali) had directly tried to tear him open with a blade or her own nails/claws like Saaru had. But the screaming, throwing things, breaking into his apartment, hurling TV's out the window kind of crazy exes...he'd had some of those.
"I'd ask what sharing space with Marq is like, but I'm guessing it can't be too bad." He was their unofficial leader for a reason. Even with any competing or butting heads Maddox did with the guy, he couldn't imagine him being that hard to live with.
ooc: CLEARED BOOYAH. Lordy this post feels like garbage tho.
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The pair had moved on to some sort of jewelry stall. Most jewelry didn't interest him, save the occasional necklace or watch (and preferably made of something durable like steel, not rarer metals as were featured here). The only thing that held his interest, more than the clothing had, was the quality. Maybe he wasn't a jeweler or even a typical customer for such things, but his workman's eye was impressed with the craftsmanship.
A chapel and future marriage didn't seem to excite Maddox. Whatever Saaru's intentions with her “put up with it” comment, it made it sound like he was supposed to be looking forward to that outcome. He was pretty sure he and his friends were more interested in going home, not holding out until there were wedding bells. The savior sentence only made him roll his eyes. They'd all done enough in the last week to figure out how and why they were supposed to do that. Still no solid answers. His complaining about that more wouldn't change it.
He declined the ring gift as politely as he could manage. "It's fine, but no thanks." Really, he couldn't foresee any situation where he'd want to wear something as ornate as that. He'd crack and scuff it up within twenty-four hours, surely. Even if he trusted himself not the ruin the thing, anyway, rings were too suspicious. He wasn't about to give any hints at agreeing to this arranged marriage thing.
The rest of his comments had an unintended consequence: Saaru bent over laughing. Never would have landed a hit on her? Maddox's face looked as if he had a choice response ready for that but wouldn't give Saaru the benefit of hearing it. She seemed to forget that those so-called blocks for feet had landed a fair shove on her torso. Defensive instead of harmful, as it had been intended to push her away instead of hurt her, but he'd already technically “landed a hit.”
The next stop was another stall of fabrics and the like - not his thing - but beside it was a far more interesting one. While Saaru gushed about whatever she was looking at, he examined the one beside it. The stall was set up with various items made of wood - intricately carved wood, in fact. Most of the pieces were small: jewelry boxes and half a hundred other things he really didn't use much himself. But the handiwork on everything was nothing short of perfect...and there were some colors and grains in the projects he didn't recognize.
“What do you think? I have been looking for a winter cloak since I get cold so easily and these colors look excellent on me, do they not?” His attention was drawn back to the princess, twirling in an item from the fabric stall. The sharp-toothed grin on her face looked like something swiped off the Cheshire cat. Good thing his answer could at least be honest and not offend at the same time. "Yeah. Goes well with your hair, I think. Green and blue together like that usually reminds me of tropical water. Good mix." Once her fashion whims were appeased, his attention returned to the carvings and hinges on the products in front of him. Even is he listened to Saaru, he examined the items distractedly. More talk on weddings...he just tried to keep his concentration on the wooden box in front of him instead.
His concentration finally broke on the book comment, which elicited the first chuckle he'd gotten since they had ventured out into the market. "Now that we're on the same page on." Unintentional page pun. He let it stand. "Books aren't really my thing, either. Marq and Kali are the ones to go to when you need something read well. I shouldn't be surprised he's reading a lot. But all day?" He thought for a moment and gave a little "humph to himself. "Must be research." Marquise liked to hole himself up and work a lot, and there were so many nights he was overwhelmed studying something or other. New place, new laws, all of them stranded there without a clue how to get back... Maddox himself had swiped a book of maps trying to find a solution to the latter problem. He could only imagine what the more reading-dedicated members of their group had tried to find.
A couple fingers raised up to indicate her. "But if you find a way to give us wings and all that, lemme know." He glanced up at the merchant with the stall of wooden products. He put Maddox on the receiving end of stare that could practically drill a hole through his head. "Seems like it could solve a lot of problems in this place."
Okay, that was it. He was too interested. Maddox picked up one of the jewelry boxes on the market stall. The keep offered protests the same way the jeweler had when Saaru picked up the ring, but he didn't acknowledge them. The box was carved in the same manners as the others on the stall, but the wood itself was an interesting color: a dark reddish form of brown, almost like mahogany, but it definitely wasn't. Too purple, too dark, and the grain was different. He'd never seen a color quite like that without a stain, but the finishing lacquer on the thing looked like it was colorless. He held the box over at Saaru. "Hey, what do you guys call this stuff? Never seen anything like it back home. He glanced at most of the other pieces for sale. "Worked with a lot of different wood types in my day, but I've never seen this one."
He turned the piece over a few times in his hands, inspecting the handiwork. A couple extra turns, and he squinted. A few fingers found some built-in pressure points on the device. With a soft clunk, a secret compartment opened on the bottom of it: likely some way to store valuables. "Huh. Cool." An upset whimper came from the stall keeper. 'Whoops.'That was probably a good selling point to get a final wow factor on customers. Now some stupid human had his dirty human hands on it and ruined the finishing touch. He slid the compartment back into place and put the piece back on the stall, though he didn't precisely look remorseful. "Don't lose your shirt, he muttered to the merchant. "The thing's well made even if my germs are on it."
The rest of his attention was given to Saaru and any explanation she might give about that new wood material. If it wasn't too hard to get a hold of, maybe he could convince somebody to get him some back at the castle to work with. He had a feeling that somebody would end up being Kai. Was Chancellor a fancy word for "obscure thing getter?" He felt like Kai did that a lot in this place.
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The look on Maddox's face in regards to Marq's current fascination with reading was not surprised. Reading up on laws: that made sense for the man. "No point in that, I don't think," he replied when it came to Marq seeking Varion's assistance. The commentary came while he was examining the jewelry box. "Well, maybe for something specific, but Marq probably knows almost as much as him now." Perhaps he was upselling his friend's intellectual abilities, but it felt close enough to the truth. He gave a sarcastic uptilt of his eyes in response to the alchemist comment. "Ha. Nevermind. I regret asking."
Her explanation on the wood making up the jewelry box pulled his attention more fully. 'Quartz oak.' Interesting name. It did resemble rose quartz or amethyst. Not that he was likely to see one of the trees around, but he paid attention to the description anyway. It definitely didn't sound like any tree he'd ever seen. "That rare, huh?" He wondered if requesting some to work with back at the castle would even be worth his time, then. Kai might have been the obscure-thing-getter, but how obscure of a thing could he get?
Saaru interrupted the consideration by thrusting her bolt of fabric into his hands like he was hired help. "Hey, come on! You could at least ask." She ignored his complaint and pushed between himself and the woodworking stall. Maddox did not appreciate being called her pet, though he didn't have time to comment on that while he scrambled to catch the jewelry box, tossed at him while he was already holding her fabric. He almost said something about not needing it - really, what use did he have for a box like that? - but he'd like to have the wood itself on hand to examine more thoroughly. The built-in hidden compartment was a nice trick, too. He'd have to do some fiddling to figure out how that was done. The downside was that, now he felt like he owed the princess a larger favor than he did with just the clothes. He'd count hauling her heavy as hell textiles back to the castle as payback for that.
Saaru's comments as they left the stall, he wasn't sure how to take. Grateful they'd come? Make sure he felt honored? Was she being serious, or sarcastic? One eyebrow quirked funny while he listened to her, though he responded as if she'd meant what she said. "Concerns? Pfft. My concern is that it's even an issue at all. Quote-unquote 'chosen' or not, we're human like the rest of the humans here." He glanced around the marketplace, his own senses not being able to detect what people there were "Therians," as they were apparently called, or who was simply a normal "mortal" like himself. "Seems like it's a problem you guys let run way deeper than me. The 'stupid, weak' humans here are part of your workers and army numbers you're relying on, and they're all treated like s**t. If you want a 'concern,' there you go. Maybe you guys think my friends and I are all special and summoned, but where I'm from, I'm just another working Joe."
He paused to let her process or reply to it for a moment, fully aware that someone as out-of-touch with poor people's struggles as a princess probably didn't know what to make of it or felt he was making pointless rambles. "Besides, what do I care if some merchant stall guy gives me a dirty look? Not the first time I've gotten one." He'd seen enough of those back home, and though he said nothing about it, he wasn't oblivious to the side-looks and scowls received in the castle itself, from workers forced to serve the new humans as something more than their rank would be if they hadn't appeared magically. "I'd rather know he hates me up front than not know it's behind my back. Lets me know what to think of him. Isn't that half the problem with politics? Not knowing who's hiding the knife?" Forced politeness was never something he favored on the giving or receiving end.
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The princess had asked a question, received a response, and proceeded to make Maddox's own comments seem like a few stuttered words in comparison of length. "'Similar in appearance? The hell--" Her comment on lemons and gold made little sense to him. Was it because they were both yellow? That was a total stretch...they really weren't even the same tone of yellow...and her talking was so consistent that he didn't even get a chance to reply that gold was actually edible and often put on high-end food as decoration. Did the royalty here not do that? It seemed a show-offy thing they would do.
Even if he couldn't get a word in edgewise, it was clear he particularly found the Therians being smarter theory...not very believable. He couldn't resist rolling his eyes. "You've got to be ******** kidding me," he mumbled, though it didn't stop her talking. Therians, smarter? How much had she even spoken to Marq in this week? And which of them was comparing a hunk of metal and a fruit as similar things because they shared vaguely the same hue?
The monologue continued, shriller and angrier, and he didn't miss the way her eyes glinted or those damn nails looked long again. Had it been some other guy posturing up for a bar fight, Maddox might have been shouting right back, but the prolonged lecture was too much like ones he'd heard from his parents, from teachers, from anyone in an authoritative position over him. That triggered a different response. Rather than retaliate verbally, his own eyes darkened and took on a half-lidded look. He watched her complete her rant and marked each time her hands clenched or fingernails sharpened. The look on his face indicated her near-screaming was brushing over him, the words not hitting home. She was finding any explanation in the book on this Therian superiority complex, and he really couldn't focus on every way she validated her own opinion. He was vaguely processing her words, but his mind watched for a physical retaliation, or whatever end game she was building to. By the time she finished, he only gave one comment. "If you're gonna try and slash me again, you might as well go ahead." If he was about to get jumped at, or get kicked out of the castle, or whatever the hell she was gearing up towards just for him talking when prompted, then he would roll with it. She'd encouraged his opinion; it wasn't his fault that she didn't like it.
Though he hoped she realized that her precious, pretty bolt of fabric was about to hit the ground if he had to defend himself.
Instead, she calmed herself down, giving some vague apology about not liking politics (wasn't politics a general requirement to being a princess?) and how plain old humans were technically covered under the law. There was something about asking for miracles when it came to changing public opinion. Didn't those in public view and power have the highest sway over any of that? "You want advice on helping things? You called me one of the 'Chosen Saviors' and your 'pet' within a minute. Just an outsider's observation: that's a couple of mixed messages." If the castle folk couldn't even publicly determine where their little kidnapped saviors stood, why would anyone else bother to do different? Sure, real cultural change took a hell of a long time, but from what he'd heard, the Therians had plenty of time compared to normal human lifespans.
There was some additional explanation about politics and the benefits of keeping things concealed (which he still didn't agree with). Something about Therians having trouble controlling their most beastly selves - and they still considered themselves more advanced, with all that animal instinct they couldn't even repress? She ended with a smile and a mention about getting "cones."
Wait, was that ice cream? Did they even have ice cream here? .
Was she literally trying to change the topic with ice cream?
For once, he didn't have a retort or even response for a few seconds. ******** sake, he thought he was immature. This was like appeasing a toddler. Where was the death cave? Could he go back to the death cave? He could handle that better than these mood swings. The only thing he could agree on with Saaru at the moment was that he was already tired of the conversation, or at least the way she had taken it. He looked around at their dockside surroundings, jarred by the conversational shift just enough to give her a questioning look and a not-really-serious answer. "You guys like fish-flavored sweets here? I usually go for chocolate, but whatever. Knock yourself out." It wasn't as if he could even eat at the moment, burdened down as he was with her carpet's-worth of fabric and the jewelry box. "Tell you what. I'm not much of a fish fan, so maybe I should find something else to do while you enjoy your sardine cream, or whatever you want to call it. I've got a couple wood projects waiting back at the castle, and this fabric of yours isn't getting lighter. So you could just point the so-called Chosen One back."
As Saaru let the sarcasm of Maddox's fish-flavored ice cream comments fly over her head like an escaped canary, he wondered if irony was a concept that just didn't exist in this culture, or at least wasn't as developed. Hearing her call him a little s**t, though was interesting. There was the initial surprise of hearing a princess swear, but that faded in a few seconds. She'd been acting immature the entire market trip, really. Cursing shouldn't be that unexpected. He didn't show much outward reaction to being called an expletive. It wasn't far from anything he was used to being called, particularly by someone considered above him... though specifically being called a little s**t hadn't happened much since he was a teenager. He'd been bumped up to “a*****e,” “dumbass,” or “son of a b***h” in most situations.
And he hadn't bought that term of endearment excuse about being called a pet. Not for a moment. The two of them weren't on anywhere near good enough terms for that, and he wasn't deaf to tone.
Pulling the bolt of fabric from him, though, genuinely surprised him. If she was actually grabbing an item to give him a free hand, he expected to be left with the heavier of the two. Maybe she just didn't trust him to hold food and her new material at the same time. Well, if she wanted to wear out her shoulder, he wasn't going to say anything for now.
Having no knowledge of their location, or much of anything about the the city, he was forced to follow Saaru's lead as they picked through an ever-increasing mass of children, a sure sign of the treat vendor the princess was seeking out. '******** ridiculous,' was really the only thing he could think as they approached the worn-out looking vendor and her crates. He'd spent the first part of the day avoiding death by mysterious monster, and now he was following around the crowned heiress of mood swings, keeping herself appeased like a child with ice cream. If he stayed in this crazy cult world too much longer, he has a sneaking suspicion that he'd start becoming numb to all the weirdness. At least the vendor didn't give him a suspicious glare like most of the market stall owners had, though his own mood was too stormy to give any smile back to her.
Whatever trick was involved in actually producing the sweets, Maddox should have found it magical. Whimsical. Unexpected. Okay, it was the last one. But while Saaru showed no qualms about the method of production, all he could envision was spit and Magic Medieval Land germs, all over her precious cone. His mouth opened briefly, but he clamped on his tongue before he could utter, “That's disgusting,” and kept the thought in his head instead. And he was pretty sure Saaru didn't need any more sea salt in her diet. She was salty enough as it was.
When it was his turn up at the front, he glanced over at the princess happily enjoying her treat, then back at the vendor. Saaru had failed to brief him on what sort of flavors there were, likely forgetting the culture clash going on. 'So, what, the woman can just magic up any flavor?' Even if that was the case, that didn't help him. What flavors even existed here? He could go for a basic like chocolate or vanilla, but damned if he was going to do that and risk the vendor making a confused face and not know what he was talking about. He felt out of place enough as it was here. Looking at the nondescript crates, then back at the vendor, he shrugged. “Your choice. Surprise me.”
He watched the pale woman look him over as if debating. Her gaze seemed to settle on his quartz oak box. She gave one of her tired smiles again, then got to work. Maddox tried not to grimace as she performed the blowing-on-the-frozen-cube technique again. Tried, but he was forced to mostly look away so he didn't overthink it. 'When in Rome...' Wasn't that the phrase?
The ice cream dropped onto his cone, a curious pink tint similar to strawberry but more blue in tone. He gave the vendor a quick nod and a, “Thanks,” before turning away, leaving room for any of the kids jostling up for their own and ensuring she couldn't see the wary looks he was giving his cone. Magic spit ice cream. Great, sure. He could do this. 'Okay. Fine. Just don't think about it too much.' And pray his immune system wasn't about to die of something considered a run-of-the-mill pathogen here.
He took a tentative bite of the ice cream. The flavor was unfamiliar: berry-like, but not quite one he could place. Not bad, if he tried not to think that he was potentially ingesting saliva with it. Either way, the break seemed to have calmed down Saaru's half-screaming lectures, so he would deal with it.
What he wasn't good at was keeping his mouth shut for too long. The spot they were in wasn't particularly crowded anymore, most of the kids there for ice cream having received their own and moved on. Those who couldn't afford it were too busy trying to mooch off the ones eating. “So, is this a typical thing?” he asked after a while. “You just sashaying your way down here and buying up half the market? Or does the average person here not know who you are?” He hadn't missed how there was very little reaction to her showing up. There was some overt politeness, but he couldn't tell if that was due to who she was or the way she threw money around like it was nothing. Any market stall keeper would be happy to welcome a customer who spent coin without question.
In response to the flavor of his cone, Maddox shrugged. “Dunno. Told her to pick. She was staring at my box, so maybe it's those quartz oak berries you were talking about. It's pretty good.” As for trying some of hers, he declined as politely as he could manage with an, “Uh, no, that's alright.” It already took enough self-convincing to get him to try his. Testing her flavor, and risking swapping even more medieval germs in the process, didn't appeal to him.
He wasn't really sure how to respond to her explanation of her frequent market trips, so he mainly listened to her descriptions of mingling... and dancing? It was all decidedly un-princesslike, though perhaps that suited the flitting nature of her personality he'd seen so far. His own opinions were conflicted. It was understandable on his end. Maybe admirable in some aspects, that someone in the upperclass wanted out of her own circle once in a while; though it only made him more disapointed that she'd willingly mix with the lowerclass but still considered humans a step below that. At the end of the day, though, it was probably stupid, going unguarded when her kingdom was at war and she was right at a port. Ships from who-knew-where were docking in and out, and those sailors she mentioned came from who-knew-where as well. Being honest with himself, it was something he could see himself doing in a similar situation: the sneaking out of the castle's control part, not the dancing for sailors.
The relatively calm conversation (considering Saaru's near-screaming a moment before) was suddenly interrupted. The princess gave some skyward look, then dropped her cone on the ground and took off with some cursory word for Maddox to follow. He rolled his eyes and didn't drop his own cone, scarfing the rest of it down as she went down increasingly suspicious looking alleys. Well, if he was going to die, it was with a stomach full of magic spit ice cream. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but he wasn't raised to waste food.
The jog down the side streets turned into a run, and Maddox was sure they had crossed into the types of alleys you hurried past, not bdown. Why the hell was he even here right now? When the princess turned back around and told him to go back to the castle, he remembered why. “Can't. Don't know the way, remember?” She was stuck with him for the time being. She responded by offering her hand, like he couldn't follow her on his own two feet. Cute, but unnecesarry. “I'm fine. If you're in such a hurry, just go and stop wasting ti--” She resorted to grabbing his wrist. He was busy trying to wrest his grip free and didn't notice anything strange until the alley grew darker. Then he looked up.
The alleyways around them were doused in seawater a second later. Maddox only had time to clench his teeth to withold a shout as the wave came from overhead, washing over everything except for himself and Saaru. While he stood in shock, processing, she let go of his wrist and bolted around a corner. She seemed pretty calm about the whole thing. Had she done that? They'd discussed transformations, not some sort of crazy elemental powers on these castle weirdos. Though he supposed after the oddities that happened back at the cave earlier that day, he should start being less surprised.
Following the princess around the corner, he ended up facing a soaking-wet beast... creature – he really wasn't sure what kind it was, but it was similar to Rylen's form and looked pissed – and, “Kali!” He raced over the wet ground as Saaru pulled the creature off his best friend. “Hey, you okay? What the hell happened?” Saaru was screaming at the creature. Caelus. So that was Caeston's animal form. He was far more interesting making sure Kali was sort out and okay and let Saaru give the fellow Therian a lecture. He'd heard enough complaints about the man from Kali. Whatever was going on here, he likely deserved the correction: particularly seeing as he'd managed to turn some argument with Kali physical.
When Saaru snatched Kali and turned her tongue lashing to his bubbly best friend, though, his mood changed. “Hey! Let go of her! She was pinned to the ground; don't yell at her like it's her damn fault!” Not that Kali had ever really needed his defense, but clearly Kali had been in the defensive position on the ground. Yelling at her was out of line. The moment the beheading was mentioned, though... his eyes grew dark again. Any potential even points he may have found converseing with Saaru throughout the afternoon dissolved. The quartz oak box in his hand hit the ground, forgotten and unimportant in the moment. “Get your ******** hands off of her now.”
It didn't really matter if Saaru's threat was an honest one or just the princess flying off her immature handle again. It had been made, and that was all the mattered. And when she had the guts to actually turn and bark an order at him, after literally threatening his best friend's life in front of his face, he was done. He forgot the fact that Saaru had those deadly claws-for-nails, or that she was supposed to be royalty they all stooped to, or even that she'd just summoned a damn tidal wave out of nowhere. “******** you,” he said, the words coming out lower pitched but plenty loud. “You're the damned princess. You handle your own decrees. If you think I'm going to bend over and kiss your a** after you just ******** threatened to cut Kali's head off.... you're a hell of a lot dumber than I thought. How would you like it if someone said they were gonna cut off Kai's head or something and then gave you a ******** order?” His pitch stayed low, but his volume did not. Whenever he took the time to examine the moment later on, he'd realize how much he sounded like his own father.
“That Cae a*****e's been giving Kali a hard time since she was stuck with him. We didn't ******** choose to be here, and we sure as hell don't deserve to be threatened. You want your ******** kidnapped saviors, you wanna throw them places they don't know, in rooms with people they don't know, you've ******** got it. If it doesn't work out, that's you castle wackos' damned problem. You have the ******** prophesy. You dragged our asses here. You want your ******** saviors? You can deal with the [******** consequences without flinging death threats like you're the [******** Queen of Hearts!”
How he managed to avoid being evicerated after that, he wasn't sure, but he felt a hell of a lot better.
Saaru seemed determined to drag them (literally) back to the castle after they all had their outbursts, but he wouldn't permit it. He would go back, provided Kali was coming as well, but any attempt for Saaru to grab him was pushed away without question. “Don't ******** touch me. Don't ******** touch her. We know how to walk.” He could follow the route without being grabbed, thank you. As for the quartz oak box, he sort of lamented leaving it behind, but he did. Buying the thing had been Saaru's choice, and he wasn't owing her s**t for some object just because it was a neat color.
An internal tension had been building in Maddox for weeks. Ever since the day of the cave "adventure" with Rylen and Kai, he started noticing something that made him uneasy: namely, that the peculiar healing incident with Kai hadn't been a fluke. He had been convinced it was some strange ability maybe Kai had, as one of these "Therians." But after the situation repeated itself multiple times - with random plants in the garden, with broken branches on a courtyard tree, with confused looking servants just trying to hand him something - Maddox finally was forced to admit to himself that he was the root cause of it.
He had practiced and tested after this revelation until he was certain it was something he could repeat consistently. Then he sought Marq's advice. Maddox demonstrated his ability (after looking half-mad arriving at the door with a plant in a bowl), and the two agreed on the need to keep it secret save, perhaps, the rest of their friends. Marq hinted something about his own behavior being strange and mentioned that they needed to keep a watchful eye on the rest of their group. Easier said than done. Kali was easy. Maddox saw her often enough. Sasha, he had barely seen since their arrival. Fei, well, everyone knew the emotional wall between them. Surely she would be okay seeing him only when necessary. She was busy enveloping herself in her fashion, anyway.
What he couldn't fully express throughout those days was the worst part of it all: the fear. The words of the Seer had been etched into his thoughts since the morning of their arrival, and now he was forming what seemed to be proof of them. As the days wore on, as his power developed, so did his sense of dread. He'd held out hope that he and his friends would find a way home, or wake up and discover this was all some crazy dream. Now the potential that they may never do that was beginning to sink in. He spent most of the festival in a soured mood, oblivious to the wonders surrounding him and scarcely enjoying himself until he caved and had three one too many drinks at Rylen's encouragement. Even the alcohol-induced dancing that ended the evening had been more a way to de-stress than really have fun. Whenever the idea of war was mentioned around the castle, it pulled a new knot in his stomach. Maddox was supposed to save lives in all this? Him? He could barely handle himself. He wasn't even the doctor of the group. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to run from it. The likelihood of his friends getting drawn into Avierat's political struggles was increasing, and while he had said nothing about his fear, he was very afraid.
The meeting between himself and his other human friends had not held any new surprises. No comment was made about the 'side effects' remark Marq let casually slip. Maddox made few comments in general. He was never good at playing a role, but he understood the need to not make waves at the castle, given their situation.
He was nearly caught testing out his own "side effects" by Sasha while he was giving a hand to a snake one afternoon. He managed to claim he was just helping it out of the way of the walking path and somehow seemed to convince her. Sasha asked him to be careful with "Mr. Noodle" and mentioned the snake could get nervous. "Mr... Noodle?" He was going to show his skill to Kali, and he had considered showing it to Sasha and Fei once he was at the next stage of control. More people in the know meant a bigger risk of word getting out, but Marq had been right during their group discussion. They were isolated here and in uncertain circumstances. They needed to band together for safety. It only made sense.
Then it happened.
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Only vague memories stuck in his head from when he found out what they did with Kali. He remembered Bee wandering in to see him that evening, with no friendly hands or smiling face accompanying him. A few distinctive, "Boof," sounds came from the giant fluffball, but Maddox couldn't find their mutual favorite human anywhere. Then, he was told what happened. It was a cold sensation that ran through him; a sudden chill in his limbs that made his thoughts reel. He remembered his rage that followed that, though what he actually did or said was a dark blur in his head. Had he needed physically restrained? It wouldn't have surprised him. Marq's words on blending in dissolved. Sticking together? Clearly that wasn't going to be allowed. Maddox and his friends were already glorified prisoners, so far as he was concerned, and now his worst suspicion was confirmed: no matter that they were Chosen, or how close they kept with each other, or if they tried to blend in here. At the end of the day, the crown was going to do whatever the hell it wanted, and now Maddox's best friend was their first victim.
Perhaps in the history of their friendship, Kali was the one with the need for physical contact: always looking for someone to touch, to cling to, to sling herself over. But Maddox had always relied heavily on her. Out of anyone he'd ever known, she was the single one he had never felt himself up against. The one he had never wanted to turn away. The one person he had never tried to shut out at some time or another. With her freedom and presence stolen, he felt stripped and unsteady, as if some of his own senses had been robbed.
The first week straight was spent in a downward spiral, as his already tense mood turned dark and retaliatory. He took a defiant stance when the reassigned rooms were announced and tried to find any other feasible sleeping place where he wasn't sharing a room with one of the castle's royal court. It didn't work. The human was escorted back to his designated chambers several times, though they couldn't make him actually share the bed with the other man. Varion was not the worst of roommates possible. He seemed the most against the imprisonment idea overall, and perhaps Maddox should have been more receptive to the times they actually interacted. But he made no attempts to get along.
Outside the chambers, he had a sneaking suspicion that the Royal Spy placed him under a particularly tight watch. Seemed logical. Anytime he crossed paths with a guard, or anyone else he could blame for his friend's imprisonment, he fought the urge to strike them in the face. There were few places he went unobserved, and there was one place he wasn't allowed to go at all.
"The ******** do you mean not allowed?!"
The first time he'd requested to see Kali, and been denied, he had genuinely lost his cool and needed restrained (or was it restrained again?). Some of his friends were allowed. He knew Sasha was bringing Bee to go see her. Why not him? After he tried to force his way past, he'd been forbidden from even approaching the area. He was surprised he never was arrested himself. Hell, maybe he could be thrown in a cell close enough to shout over to his friend. Knowing himself, it was only a matter of time before he made enough wrong moves to be confined anyway, or worse. Why not cut to the chase and do it already? He didn't like this kind of suspense.
The only place he was usually left to his own devices was his workroom. It wasn't impressive: just a neglected corner of the castle where his woodworking had been moved to. He buried himself in there most days during Kali's confinement, creating haphazard projects only to change or disassemble many along the way. The work was less about completion and more about finding an outlet.
He didn't track how often he ate, drank, or slept. As the days missing Kali shifted past a week, he worked until he was too tired to see clearly, throwing pins and screws aside to rub his face and eyes, only to pick the messes he made the next day and start over. Sometimes he never made it back to Varion's chambers and crashed at one of his workbenches or tables, waking up to repeat the routine of assembly and destruction. Whenever a new project was started, nearby rooms echoed with the noise of him pitching wood and supplies from the upper level down to the lower. He appreciated the noise it made; the chaos matched the way his thoughts boiled.
When he could do so unobserved, he continued practicing his healing magic, if only to control it enough for it to be actively used instead of passively. But what was the purpose of this world smacking him with a healing power, when his friends' lives were endangered in a way that healing couldn't help? Useless. 'Save lives, my a**.' As was typical, especially here, he and his abilities were useless in the grand scheme of things.
While the Therians received the worst of Maddox's behavior, most of his own friends' attempts to soothe him fell on deaf ears as well. Even Bee grew tired of his stormy expressions and spent more time with Sasha instead. Marq offered his logic, and Sasha gave her usual calm comfort, but Maddox was numb to them. He brewed instead, embedded in his workshop and heedless to most of the company his friends tried to provide. He didn't want to think or calm down; he wanted to lash out. He wanted to explode.
He was in one of those maelstrom moods in his workshop when Fei came in. Why the hell she of all people decided to seek him out, he didn't know, and he made that sentiment rather clear. She accused him of running away from his problems, whatever he was meant to make of that, then dug in instead of leaving. It looked as if she planned to set up shop and do her work there.
The argument that broke out between them was short, but significant. He wasn't interested in pandering to her fashion ideas or the pushier parts of her personality and made his eagerness for her to leave quite clear. Fei called him an a*****e, among other things, and he even agreed with the sentiment. "You just said it yourself: I'm an a*****e. I'm the shittiest. So fine. Why are you even here? If you're so ******** determined to be this place's Prada, go spend your time with someone who won't ******** you over while you do it."
'Why won't she just leave?'
What he wasn't expecting after was the way Fei broke down. "Because Maddox, you mean more to me than these stupid clothes!" Her voice slowly broke into sobs, and he had nothing to say as her tears and words swapped places in waves. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I’m useless. I’m not strong like you, I can’t be kind as Sasha, smart as Marquise, or brave as Kali! But…”
Strong like him?
When had she started fooling herself with that thought?
He was staring at his own hands, hammer in grasp, but he was seeing memories instead. It wasn't the first time he'd brought someone to tears, after all. It wasn't something he aimed at nowadays, perhaps, but that emotional wall of his was very old. It went back beyond when his humans friends were really his friends, back to that frustrated little kid who lived with little else but anger and jealousy, the one who took out his problems on other kids.
Strong like him.
"I'm NOT." His hammer had been flung onto a woodpile, his temples gripped in tense fingers. "If I was strong, or useful, I'd have a ******** clue what to do right now. I'd be faking fitting into this place like Marq told us to weeks ago. Fitting in like you're doing with that-- whatever the ******** that clothes guy's name is. I'd know what my own friends actually gave a s**t about or not. I'd be able to talk without pissing someone off or stabbing them in the heart. I'd be more than a damned liability. But I can't, and I'm not. I can't even get ideas about any of it. And I can't keep rolling out there and pretending like everything's ******** okay. I can't do it."
The conversation had ended with Fei finishing her tears against the back of his shoulder, a declaration that their group of friends needed to stick together, and a promise on her end to keep everyone safe and that they'd get home. He wasn't sure how much he believed the last parts, but his communication with the rest of his human friends picked back up afterward.
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When Kali was finally released from her imprisonment, she clung to him more than she had previously. It was comforting, physical proof that she was really back. Maddox still wished this whole place would be one extended dream, but that, that was one part he was grateful to believe was real. There was no way to hide the way his mood had sank while she was imprisoned, though. And he couldn't communicate the guilt he felt: his best friend, pitched into prison, and him supposed to save lives and unable to lift a finger to help... He had shown her his healing abilities. She was more excited about it than he was, as he predicted. He kept practicing. He continued with his wood shop, the projects finding themselves more peacefully completed now. He lived with Kali's returned presence around him. She was a blanket, always there, a source of reassurance literally draped over him.
And then, suddenly, she wasn't.
He noticed right away when she became distant, The ceaseless touches and human blanket stopped out of nowhere, and he couldn't get a clear answer right away from her. It wasn't just him, either, though maybe he was the most attuned to it. Everyone was suddenly receiving a toned down Kali, a Kali Lite™ that claimed to be just fine, just the same, but clearly wasn't. He began to wonder if she had received some new threat, if there was another recourse hanging over her head that might make her pull away from all of them.
When she finally showed him her newly developed power - her personal curse, as it turned out - there was a tiny part of his mind that was relieved. Her sudden change in behavior had an explanation, and a valid one he could understand. No, maybe not understand. His avoidance of touching things was not because he could harm them, and he didn't have his friend's ingrained need to seek out physical contact. He hadn't chosen to go into an occupation of healing others. Whatever she was going through, he was sure it was torture, and just another form of cruelty he couldn't change.
The remaining time was spent with his life and thoughts attempting to stabilize, though he would never deny that damage had been done. The greatest positive alteration was his improving standing with Fei. He turned one of his projects into a new desk for her own work space, and there were times where she would stop by his to talk, or complain about the tailor she worked under. Maddox wasn't the one to go to for advice, but he was the right man for the job if someone was in the mood to hear, "Ah, ******** it," and find other things to do for a while.
As for the Therians, damage had been done. Maddox cared little if his preference for his human friends' company was obvious. While he no longer held the open hostility he did while his friend was imprisoned, it was clear that improving relations with the castle's original inhabitants was not currently on his to-do list. There were too many wrongs, too many situations changed, too many declarations of saviors squashed by the truths of threats and royal retaliation. Not all of them here were inherently bad, he was sure, but getting along with them? He began to wonder what the point was in that. The Therians were bound by their own loyalties, those to the crown. At the end of the day, getting to know the members of the royal court just meant further backstabbing when they had to do whatever the royal family declared against the humans next.
The calm-minded Chancellor accidentally validated Maddox's defeatist attitude about him upon returning from a sudden business trip with Sasha. He had attempted to get Maddox talking, apparently aware of his new colder attitude and interested in getting him to discuss his concerns. Kai received a laundry list instead of everything wrong about the humans' situations there, and the attempt to get him to find positives as well were fruitless. That was when Kai brought it up... Apparently Sasha had begun to show her own magic ability while away (Maddox was interested in that part of the conversation at least), and Kai was now convinced that Maddox had one, too. So convinced that he'd already told the royal court before even approaching Maddox about it.
It didn't matter what the humans were supposed to be or do. Maddox knew where the Therians' priorities stood.
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AND NOW TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED POST-SKIP
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Maddox had asked her more than once. "You sure about this? Really?" He knew the request to assist had been extended to Kali and himself, him for his recently-revealed healing powers and Kali for what they had been told about her medical skills. Varion had been discussing connecting Maddox with some individuals who provided aid to the poorer parts of the city, and this was going to be a hell of a first step indeed. But Kali's knowledge would only be useful in second-hand form, and he knew how much that would pain his friend. On top of thing he knew she was going to be involved. Maddox wouldn't lie to himself, he'd considered several times if helping these strangers in the slums was worth having to go do so with Saaru. The princess was still top of his ire list, having taken a large part of the blame in his head for Kali's confinement. He had been silent most times he crossed paths with her recently, his words threatening to spill out in a current that would surely wind them all in trouble again. He had scowled, avoided, and been mostly quiet, but now there was no avoiding her presence. If he didn't want to see the princess, he couldn't guess how Kali was feeling. He would have stuck up for her if she decided not to go.
Maddox tried to pull a sarcastic grin at her gesture and offer of "If all else fails," but his stomach was already uneasy with the thoughts of what this day had in store. "s**t, I hope we won't need to." He wasn't skilled enough yet to claim he'd be able to use his abilities on everyone there, not by far, but still. He had brought an assortment of supplies with them that had more typical medical use, and he used his free hand to scratch Bee on the back of his head as the dog made his way over. "You tell 'er, Bee. You don't play second fiddle to any local snake, and Mr. Noodle gets enough attention as it is."
He blinked and glanced over at Kali as she took his hand, pressed, released. Such gestures were small, but they were an improvement from the lack of contact she'd done at first. He nodded. "I'm thinking I just try to focus what I've got on the ones that are worst. Maybe then we won't need..." He scratched his leg and swallowed down his nerves. "Those who aren't at the highest risk, you just tell me what to do. Maybe I can come back later and work with them then."
Supplies and humans ready, he made his way to Varion's chambers while he tried to mentally prepare for what might lie ahead.
Kali was full of reassuring words on their way to meet the Therian half of their team for the day. He let the uneasy flicker of a smile return her quip about her opinion counting in regards to women. "We'll worry about that later when we pilfer those cabinets and get college wasted." Watching his limits was something on his mind, of course, but considering what they were about to head into... the situation itself and his participation were going to be uncharted waters. He had a feeling the entire time was going to be played by ear. Not that Maddox ever was one to take his time in a situation, but today in particular would not leave time for that. That concept was further proved when they arrived at Varion's quarters, only for the Judge to give a dry remark and start down the hall without delay.
He could smell their destination long before he could see it. The smoke had drifted in the air even farther than expected, and the back of Maddox's throat prickled with the sensation the closer they came. He had been in the backalleys of the dock area that once, but never in the neighborhoods as course and ragged as the ones they now entered. He paid little mind to strangers they passed along the way; his thoughts were too busy trying to process, trying to prepare, trying to quell the unease paining his chest.
"Lonan," Kali had muttered over to him when space allowed her to speak unheard by the other two of their group. “I’m thinking of having him train me.” It pulled him out of his foggy attempts at mental preparation and looked over to her, understanding the questioning and appreciative that there was something small to distract him, if for a moment. But he had to think about it. Considering his most vivid thoughts of the Royal Spy consisted of the griffin having his best friend pinned to the ground in a tussle, one of the multiple causes for what he felt was her mistreatment by the Therians, Maddox's opinions of the man were not high. But Kali's new ability had backed her into a metaphorical corner, and he understood that as well. His face showed his reservations, but he nodded. "If you think it'll help. Guess a sneaky a*****e like that might have an idea or two." And perhaps not be afraid to work with her. The Therians had always treated Kali with a little suspicion.This new development would not help that. He couldn't help but glance down at his own hands for a moment and consider the training work Varion had mentioned to him. Perhaps they were all in need of some work developing their newfound skills, especially if Maddox was going to be expected to serve as a walking health pack.
The rest of what she said came out in a couple self-interrupted blurts. He understood what she was feeling, though. Never a good liar, he was sure his own unease showed on his face, which didn't help. When she interrupted herself again with her, "You've got this," he shoved enough of the queasiness aside to fake looking sure of himself. "Damn right, I can. Not too often I fix up a mess I didn't even start, is it?"
He didn't have this. He didn't have this at all, but he would have to.
Maddox was one of the first on his feet once they arrived, supplies in hand and unwilling to linger. "Just show us where we're supposed to go." A thousand unfamiliar things assaulted his senses. Sights, sounds, smells: the smell of fire had settled beyond his throat and left a taste of cinder on his tongue already, and it would only grow worse. A sense of dread and despair hung in the air like a heavy curtain. His unease had turned to fear and dread. He pushed against them all and decided to start moving. Dive right in. If he just forced himself, he wouldn't have time to think about it. If he didn't think about it, he couldn't consider backing away. And maybe Kali wouldn't worry as much as she would otherwise.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Exceedingly uneasy tabtabtabtabLocation: Outside Varion's chambers | At the slums tabtabtabtabWith: Kali, Saaru, Varion tabtabtabtabTalking to: Mostly Kali - last blurb can be the whole group or whomever met them tabtabtabtabOutfit: Simple tunic and pants outfit. tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
As they neared the end of transport part of the ship, Maddox had time for a half-hearted smile at his firend's one-two punch remarks. “Worth a shot. If this is going to be a repeating situation, I'll need all the training I can get.” That brought a new wave of uneasiness – even apart from the thought of so many lives about to literally depend on him, the way he worded that sentence made him almost equally uneasy. He'd stubbornly clung to the mentality that their situation here was only temporary, an extended dream (aka nightmare) or some sort that would ease up eventually, or find a solution. It was easier not to worry about, well, everything if he kept telling himself they might get out of it. But planning for the future, that indicated a win for the part of his mind thinking they wouldn't.
Still, it was one more unsteady thought to shove aside and force the smile again. “Suddenly we sound less 'here we come to save the day' and more 'good cop, bad cop,' though.” He cracked his knuckles as they came to a stop and glanced down at his own hands. “Think I could even hurt someone right now if I punched them? s**t, what if you've got to handle my stupid bar brawls?”
The scene at their arriving destination was a milling chaos of people, noise and bodies pressed among the soot and smoke. Maddox followed along with the others, not certain of their actual on-foot goal in the chaos and therefore unable to direct himself. With the general din happening, he paid little mind to the shouting going on until he saw the unmistakable sight of others being bumped and shoved out of the way - then he was run into.
“Woah, there, kid.” He didn't have much time to process his turning into a temporary roadblock before the child leaped to her feet and promptly hid against him. Even that was immediately followed by a new arrival – a doctor, it seemed, who recognized Saaru and Varion before apologizing for the little girl that had run into him. Considering there were more important tasks at hand, he somehow managed to bite his tongue when the fact that the child might consider them human was treated like an apology. “Wouldn't make a difference if she does or not,” was the only response he gave to it. He attempted to kindly as posible nudge the girl over to the doctor, who she was apparently supposed to be with, but the child wouldn't budge. Despite all his mental preparations for the situation, a child roadblock was not something he had foreseen. He was certain that he had accidentally healed up some of her injuries. It was technically a waste; he was supposed to be saving his abilities for the worst injured. But hopefully her relatively mild injuries were just a small drop in his healing bucket...so long as he didn't repeat his mistake.
Varion had offered encouragement to the child, and Maddox felt Kali's eyes on him and returned the look before listening to her explanation to the doctor. At the end of it all, the girl Doctor Hydrus called Anandi was still clinging to him, still shaking and unwilling to let go. The group was on too tight of a timeline to worry about it, and he wasn't about to get angry at a scared kid hugging on him. He shrugged. “She's fine. Let's just keep going.” He did end that portion of the conversation by placing a hand on the child's head – whether he was trying to be supportive or find a way to get the terrified child to actually look at him, he wasn't sure. "Look kid, you can tag along while we walk, but then you've gotta go with the doctor, okay? We've got work to do....It's not gonna be pretty, and I'm guessing you've seen enough already."
Granted, whatever the doctor was around for wouldn't be pretty either, but he knew full well he'd be seeing the worst of the worst, for as long as he could take it. There was enough trauma going on around him for him to encourage more.
They followed the doctor into the haphazardly created hospital, making progress and Kali talking in professional medicine mode, until they were stopped again - someone familiar with Varion who the judge called Yeosmi. It was another time roadblock, and Maddox tried not to shift uncomfortably as the other man made jests at Varion about never enjoying the moment. He wondered what exactly the judge was supposed to enjoy about this one and tried not to shift too uncomfortably as he held back from interrupting. When this Yeosmi finally asked about their purpose, he hopped on the chance, minus most of the niceties that were probably more appropriate. “Patient care,” he said, indicating himself and Kali. “The worst levels, if you've got some sort of triage going.” Triage – there was one word he'd picked up from his friend's medical studies. Hopefully he was using it right. Did Avierat even use the word? He looked over to Varion, apparently the most respected of their party in this location, and hoped he would know what to say or do to speed things along. The longer they waited, the bigger that pit in his stomach was going to get, and he refused for the moment let it cause the hesitation it wanted to.
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With locations sorted and directions given, Varion determined that he could get them all to their destination faster and transformed. Maddox was taken aback for a moment. Climbing onto the High Judge for a doggyback ride was not on a list of things he had ever imagined doing. But time was of the essence, and he figured it best not to complain. He steered Anandi towards the doctor, then tried not to hesitate when it came to clambering up on Varion's back. Though he couldn't help but mumble a, "This is too ******** weird," under his breath and was likely the last one to hike up.
Scratch that. He wasn't the last to climb up after all. "Kid, you need to stay here." What the hell did the child think she was doing, climbing up with them? “You're supposed to stay with the doctor.” Anandi seemed determined to follow, though, so in the end he made sure wherever she had clambered up gave her a good enough seat and grip to not fall off. At this point, he wasn't sure if she would even stay put if he managed to get her back off the Cerberus' back, and some terrified kid literally running after them instead would likely create more problems than just rolling with the situation. Half this place was a madhouse of chaos, so hopefully one child running around a different region of the makeshift hospital wouldn't make a difference. It seemed people were running everywhere as it was. And actually, "Just roll with it," was seeming to become Maddox's mantra for Avierat in general.
If Maddox noticed the child looking back as they went, he didn't pay that much mind. There was enough sensory input going on around him that focusing on staying on Varion's back - and making sure the others looked stable enough, too – took enough of his awareness. The girl seemed in a mood to be afraid of her own shadow anyway. Looking around nervously didn't feel out of the norm in the situation.
He barely waited for Varion to come to a stop before sliding off the High Judge's canine back, only taking a moment to see if any of the others needed help down before examining their new location. It wasn't much different than their last, though there were clear organizational division in this area versus the unfiltered chaos of the previous. That only partially lessened the hit to his gut at seeing the various states of those injured people in view where they were. s**t, he didn't want to be here. “Time to get to work,” he muttered to the rest of the group, instinctively tugging the ends of his sleeves up a little as if needing them out of the way. Then it was time to start the healing. As for the reactions of the non-Therians there finding them human, he did notice, but it took all his concentration at the moment not to want to flinch away from the situation. There wasn't time to dwell on the fact that he and Vanya were being stared at. He was used to being an anomaly in this world, anyway.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Plz smol child just do what you're supposed to | Nervously getting to work tabtabtabtabLocation: Hospital at the slums tabtabtabtabWith: Anandi, Varion, Vanya, Saaru tabtabtabtabTalking to: Basically the same as above, tabtabtabtabOutfit: Simple tunic and pants outfit. tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
If there was one thing Maddox could say positive about beginning his work, it was that at least he had one familiar face with him. No matter how much he would have been willing to let his best friend stay back and not witness any of their current surroundings, she managed to make him feel a little less like a fish out of water. “Just give 'em your best scream if anyone gets in the way. With the kid... you might have to do a little babysitting if she tries anything.” He paused. “Including running off again.” Maybe having a child to watch here wasn't ideal, but they really didn't need the doctor forced to chase after Anadi again and waste valuable time she could spend with the seriously injured. “I dunno if the doctor will need help with anything, either.” He wouldn't blame Vanya if she was overloaded with the situation and couldn't really assist much beyond minding the kid, but he was sure anyone working here was exhausted to the bone.
Saaru and Varion broke off their own way, heading into the charred remains of the slums surrounding the makeshift hospital, and that seemed as good a sign as any that it was time for him to hone in on his job.
As he began his work at the hospital, he continued pushing back the pit in his gut. The sensory overload was immediate: too many faces, too many sounds, too many sights he wished he didn't have to look at, and too many smells that threatened to turn his stomach inside-out. Anandi so far had not been an issue – she had stepped back to stay with the doctor, which meant Maddox wasn't tripping over her and could devote his focus to the task on hand. Maybe Vanya wouldn't have to do too much babysitting, after all. Though with the doctor bustling about prepping those Maddox was seeing next, he wasn't sure if that was the best option, but he didn't have time to think about it. There were no ideal solutions in these conditions.
It took a while for him to get into the swing of things, but he was learning more about his ability as he went. The task didn't start out as impossible as he felt it might be, but familiar, it was not. He may have been practicing with animals and plants before, but the first time it was a human face staring back at him... it was strange. 'Human-like face,' he reminded himself. He couldn't actually distinguish if there were Therians or half-Therians among the crowd. He was, though, pretty sure that some full blooded Therians would be angry even at their supposed Sky Person savior, if he called them human. Still, the animals he'd helpe before usually looked at him funny or ran away. Plants didn't do anything but appear improved. Here, he would be connecting more with those he was helping, at least if they were conscious enough to process what was happening. It was encouraging to see the relief come across the first stranger's face, but he hadn't thought about if he should really say anything or act a specific way. Well, keeping himself moving would make him more efficient. He'd work on his bedside manners later.
As soon as the first patient was assisted, it was time to move on to the next. Then the next, then the next. He wasn't tired yet. That would happen eventually – who knew when – but for the moment he was stable. Of course there was a twinge of nausea and unease, but he attributed that to everything he was seeing around him. The doctor had been going ahead of him, and he let her do her job without much interruption. The only change that came after the first three or so healings was that he realized he could manage a little more control than he initially thought. He couldn't pinpoint his ability as much as would be ideal, but he found himself able to pull back and stop after the worst of the injuries were solved...mostly. It didn't work every time he tried it, though, and it took a large amount of concentration. While he would love to patch everyone up entirely, he was here to save lives. Maddox figured even that little amount stored up might help him fix an additional person or two. The added focus meant he communicated and generally looked around even less than before. Heal, move on, follow the doctor from makeshift bed to makeshift bed - It become a sort of rhythm, very briefly.
The next patient was probably the worst he'd seen so far, which was a hefty level to reach. The extent of the burns and injuries made his concentration fumble for an instant. He'd been focused on nothing but passing from patient to patient before then, tuning out what didn't matter to that end. Now, he glanced once around the hospital as if remembering he was surrounded by the kind of medical situation he'd just walked up to. Processing the numbers that were in the haphazard setting, he wondered how many he'd actually be able to handle. “God...there's so damned many of them.”
Well, he still had plenty to go. He could feel a little bit of the tiredness, but not enough to be concerned. 'It's just like fixing a busted up car, or assembling new furniture,' he thought. 'Just one thing at a time until it's done.' Of course, cars and woodworking usually didn't expose him to things he was pretty sure were going to give him bad dreams at some point. He shook off that thought and got back to work.
tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: Trying to stay focused and hold off the trauma tabtabtabtabLocation: Hospital at the slums tabtabtabtabWith: Anandi, Varion, Vanya, Saaru, the doctor (Varion and Saaru increasingly out of range) tabtabtabtabTalking to: Vanya, the doctor tabtabtabtabOutfit: Simple tunic and pants outfit. tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
So, Rylen didn't have any plans for anything. Disappointing. For a moment, he was afraid nothing would come of his idea to get out of the castle for the night. He had a feeling he wouldn't be officially permitted out without a Therian escort... there was always sneaking, but that was more difficult to do in a place that employed guards, and it wasn't as if he knew the city well enough to know somewhere specific to go.
Fortunately, the general came up with an idea without much thinking. “The Underground?” Barely organized violence, hmm? “Okay, cool, The Underground it is.” Maybe someone with a more convoluted way of thinking would hesitate at the thought of willingly going to see people beat each other senseless, especially after the scenes Maddox had witnessed less than two weeks ago. But his brain seemed to form a divide between violence against innocents and violence people volunteered to participate in.
Now, bringing Anandi along for the ride, that was Maddox's limit. “No--! Uh, no, she's asleep. I'm not gonna wake her up.” He couldn't imagine exposing the jackalope to some sort of fighting destination... particularly after the trauma she'd endured less than two weeks ago.
Rylen made a few disorganized motions with the paperwork on her desk, then she was steering him towards their shared chambers. “Allow me some time to prepare for our outing.” At their initial arrival, Maddox might have thrown more of a gripe at the very physical way she functioned. But after this much time, and however much of that naked flopping-on-him-on-the-couch she'd done before he'd been moved to Varion's room, it was all starting to feel fairly normal. Familiarity, in Avierat? The defiant part of him wanted to fight against that. He and his friends were trying to figure out a way out of this mess, weren't they? But another part of him was grateful to not feel like a pariah 24/7 while he was here.
“Okay, sure.” Rylen's steering was rather enthusiastic in its speed, and they were nearly at their shared chambers soon enough. “What the hell you even need to do to prepare for some place called The Underground? Doesn't exactly sound like a place to dress up for, and you look fine.” It almost sounded odd, hearing someone as straightforward as Rylen saying she needed to prepare to go out. Maddox couldn't think of a whole lot he needed to do in the meantime. The outfit he was wearing might not have been his own choice, but he didn't feel like bothering to change out of it. He was dressed, Anandi in bed, and his own projects were wrapped up for the day. Essentially, he was ready to go.
No, strike that. He thought of something. “Food! Hey, I'll see if I can drag up something for us to eat before we go. Meetchya back up here.” Once her hands relinquished their grip on his shoulders, he hurried off in the direction he hoped led to the kitchen area of the castle. It was somewhere around the lower floor, right?
It took a bit of wandering (knowing Rylen, she was probably ready by now and ready to just chase him down at this point), but eventually he found what he assumed was the kitchen area. It smelled like food was being cooked, so unless someone was doing that in their rooms or something, he was in the right direction.
'Wait a minute,' He stopped momentarily. “Wait a damned minute.” The smell coming from the kitchen wasn't completely the same, seeing as he knew barely any of the ingredients they used in this place, but it was familiar enough. He'd been only vaguely hungry before, but now he felt his stomach send him a pang at the scent. It didn't matter if it had been months, he knew that smell, and it drew him to the cooking area with an increased speed.
He came through the door to see Vanya and Sasha in the kitchen, in comfy pajama clothes and the room filled with the heat of a working oven. The food smell pervaded the space, and a look overcame his face as if it had put him in a trance. If it was one of the Avierat people cooking, he might assume he was mistaken, but this gave him increased hope. One hand sat down on top of a shoulder of each friend, and he leaned against them a bit as he stared between them and the warm oven. Maddox's face and tone were somewhere between that food smell trance, a demand, and a desperate beg. “Please, for the love of Christ, tell me I'm ******** smelling pizza.”
ooc - If I have to edit, let me know!!!! tabtabtabtab ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ tabtabtabtabMood: I SMELL PIZZA tabtabtabtabLocation: Castle, Rylen's office | Castle kitchen tabtabtabtabWith: Rylen | Sasha and Vanya tabtabtabtabTalking to: Rylen | Sasha and Vanya tabtabtabtabOutfit:Without the suspenders things tabtabtabtab▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
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