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 Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 11:39 pm
Onwards!
An RP which takes place in Imisus, a day or two away from the Plague Sanctuary that is the destination of the featured characters, Wickwright Finch and his plague, Hopkin, and Coyotl Coyotl, and his plague, Lucky. The date is April 3rd, 1411, the time is sunrise, and the weather is clear and chilly, but not chilly enough to turn the dew on the grass to frost.
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At sunrise, the camp was woken by a shout.
It was coming from Wickwright Finch's wagon, one long, drawn out crowing cry, then the slamming of a door, followed by an echo as Hopkin slammed the door to the guide's wagon faster than he could blink.
Wickwright was back.
His plague had peaked on the night of March thirty first, and since then his symptoms had been softening, but he had still been too weak to speak much or move. The rate at which he had been improving since that night had been phenomenal though, and by the evening of the second, the guide posited that he would be back on his feet presently. Unlike the last time the guide had posited something about Wickwright's condition, this guess proved to be correct. The spry old man was outside on the grass, checking Tristram and and eyeing the wagon and laughing as Hopkin barreled into him like a dog that had missed its master. "Enough!" he cried as Hopkin barraged him with questions and greetings and worries and tears. Pushing his Plague's blonde head back, he said, "That's quite enough."
"But Wick-"
"Quite enough, Hopkin! I've been incapacitated by the plague for long enough without being further incapacitated by you. There's things to be doing, we can catch up later, I'm quite glad to see you alive too, yes, we're all okay now, but now that we're okay, we have work to do." He rolled up his sleeves and grinned, relishing the fresh air and the barely-present sunlight, relishing the feeling of being alive and his mind operating properly. This was a second chance to get things right, which was more than Finch men usually got. He wasn't going to waste it.
"Hallo!" he called, pounding on the guide's door. "Good morning, come on, let's be up! I've wasted enough time, I'm quite ready to go now. Onwards, onwards, onwards!"
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 9:54 am
Coyotl lay sprawled across the floor of the guides' wagon like a dead man.
He wasn't a dead man, of course, which was part of the problem. It had become clear to both of the guides sometime during the day on the first of April that at least one of the sick men in their caravan was not going to die. Coyotl hadn't gotten as sick as Wickwright had, and as such, his recovery came more quickly than the older man's; when it seemed he'd made it back to complete health, the guides were obligated to allow him to stay in their wagon, away from the illness, though they still seemed uneasy about it.
This uneasiness turned to annoyance faster than they could blink. Understandably, Coyotl was elated at the fact that it seemed he was not, in fact, dying, but this excitement made him a particularly obnoxious fellow to have around. He'd badgered them almost constantly for the next two days, questioning them about how much longer it would take them to reach the plague sanctuary, whether Wickwright would recover as quickly as he had, and getting into arguments over the direction the caravan was traveling in. This had nearly culminated in Coyotl getting punched right in the teeth the previous evening, but luckily for him, the disagreement had not escalated into actual violence. Instead, they'd simply squabbled back and forth late into the night until the guides managed to convince him, on pain of death or serious bodily harm, to shut his trap and go to sleep.
Thus it was that on the morning of April 3rd, when the two guides normally would have been awake making preparations for the day's travels, they were still asleep, trying to catch up on the rest they'd missed as a result of their noisy passenger. Coyotl's natural ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere had served him well, but dozing off on the floor of a caravan rarely made for very deep sleep. When the pounding came on the wagon's door, he was the first one to his feet, and he opened the door cautiously, as if whatever was on the other side might explode or set him on fire.
"Finch!" was the first thing he exclaimed. The second thing was not so much a word as a squawking sound, as he found himself being shoved out the door by a pair of unseen hands. "You do your talkin' outside, and keep it down!" came the brusque command, and he heard the door slam behind him.
Slightly ruffled at finding himself thrust suddenly into the cool morning air, Coyotl cast a baleful look at the wagon before turning back to Wickwright with a massive grin on his face, clapping his hands on the man's shoulders exuberantly. "Good to see you up and about! Might want to let those two alone for a while, though," he advised, thumbing over his shoulder. "They're a salty sort in the mornings. Well, all the time, but mornings especially."
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 6:16 pm
Wickwright headed back towards the wagon like he was about to pound on the door until the guides came out as well, but stopped himself. "Very well, they can wait," he decided, much to Hopkin's relief. "What matters is you're here." Turning to Coyotl, he shook his hand vigorously. "Isn't it wonderful to be alive, my friend? Half dead for five days, I was starting to miss the sensation. You must fill me in on what has happened in my absence, are we near to our destination? Our pace must be crawling if we haven't arrived yet, I can make far better time than this on my own."
"We had to stop and take care of the dead every morning," Hopkin explained, looking at the other caravans. "There are some we should bury this morning too, I imagine."
Wickwright sobered quickly. "How many are left," he asked.
"Sixty-two." Almost half the number they'd had in Gadu. Now that Wickwright knew the pain of the plague, the statistic was more sobering. He coughed, straightening out his robe.
"That won't do. We must reach the sanctuary before any more die. If they're at the Sanctuary, they may at least be cared for properly." Hopkin nodded grimly. After Wickwright fell ill, he wasn't keen on seeing more people dying of plague than he had to. "And that's all very sad, yes, but there are other matters at hand, so we must put the statistic behind us. The guides will tackle that issue with me later." Sitting down on the steps of his wagon, he asked, "Assuming we're close by now, where will you go next, Coyotl? Will you stay with us or will we travelers be parting ways? I have yet to plan my next move but I'm fairly sure that Hopkin and I will be obliged to return to Gadu with the guides. Whether the riots will have died down by then is a concern we'll have to face when we get there, but compared to what we've already been through, riots hardly seem to be a trial." He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "By the bone, it's good to laugh! What a morning!"
Hopkin sat as close to his Grimm as he could and watched him quietly, smiling as well despite the circumstances. Seeing Wickwright well was all he needed to feel unburdened, though the matters they discussed were serious (and he certainly didn't like the idea of traveling to Gadu). They may have been surrounded by the dying, but as long as Wickwright wasn't one of them, a semblance of order was reintroduced into the chaos. Hopkin could deal with a human body and people dying so long as he still had an author.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 10:31 pm
"If the guides are right, we're close by now." And if they weren't right, Coyotl would never let them hear the end of it. "We might not make it by nightfall, but even if we don't, we ought to get there by tomorrow," he estimated, waggling his hand in the air slightly to indicate he wasn't making an exact prediction.
The sooner they arrived at the sanctuary, the better. To be among the dying, he thought, was too much for a person to endure, day after day after day. Even when the body was healthy, it could kill the soul slowly. Coyotl had had more than enough of traveling with the sick; the mounting number of dead was more meaningful to him now, after how close both he and Wickwright had come to increasing the tally themselves.
Given that, though, he hadn't really put much thought into where he would go after the current journey was complete. The state of Imisus as a whole had made him wary of forming any solid plans, lest they be uprooted by the chaos sweeping the nation. Traveling south was an option, but not a very attractive one, and for all he knew, the town he'd called home might have been razed to the ground by that point. He frowned to himself, scratching at his hairline in thought.
"Being that you're heading back to Gadu an' all," he said, "if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to come along." He glanced back and forth between Wickwright and Hopkin, seeming to weigh something carefully in his mind, before continuing. "You'll be going to speak with the Council, then, yeah?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 4:20 am
"Tomorrow, hm," Wickwright muttered thoughtful, staring at the caravans of the sick. "For some that won't be soon enough though, correct?"
There was a plan forming in his mind, though it was just a nagging, fledgling sort of thing, a foolish move that only a Finch would pull off so soon after being plagued. Finch men had never been renowned for being cautious, Wickwright, who had written his book among the dead and dying expecting no backlash, was absolutely no exception. Perhaps realizing this or recognizing the look in his eye, Hopkin looked distinctly ill at ease as he spoke, gently reminding him, "Wickwright, you've just recovered from the plague."
"Strewth, really, Hopkin?" Wickwright commented dryly.
"Yes, don't you remember?" Hopkin asked concernedly, the sarcasm flying neatly over his head.
"Joke," Wickwright noted simply.
"Just please don't do anything dangerous," replied the Plague, undaunted.
"Impossible," his Grimm chuckled, "Everything is dangerous these days." Turning to Coyotl, he added, "Of course you can come along, after all we've been through so far, why would I turn you away? You're no trouble, I assure you." He paused, then admitted, "Yes, I suppose I must. I don't know why those damned Scientists wanted me to take a road trip with the dying in the first place, but now the deed is done, I have to go back and tell them. What's your business in our illustrious capital, my friend?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 9:32 am
Though he couldn't guess at what Hopkin was admonishing Wickwright for, Coyotl watched their exchange with remarkably keen interest. Hopkin was a boy now, true, but he still spoke the same way he had when he'd been a little bronze Plague in Wickwright's palm, acted the same, missed the same sarcastic jokes; any transformation he'd undergone had been purely cosmetic. Moreover, the way the two interacted was unchanged as well. Hopkin was still Wickwright's book, and Wickwright was still Hopkin's Grimm.
And that, that was what Coyotl needed to learn more about.
"I've not got any business there-- not yet, anyway," he amended. "The Scientists, though... They know about Plagues, don't they? I mean, more than most people would." Coyotl was trying to justify something to himself in his head, frowning and muddling over it. He was almost unwilling to articulate it out loud, for fear that the foolishness of the idea would immediately make itself obvious. But he wasn't good at twisting words and having roundabout conversations to discuss things without ever mentioning them.
"I want to join them as well," he said. Then, he quickly added, "Even though I don't know much about science or nothing."
That had sounded pretty much exactly as stupid as he'd thought it might.
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 10:10 am
"Nothing is a word used to express the absence of value," Hopkin offered helpfully.
"He means anything, I believe," Wickwright corrected Hopkin.
"Oh. W-well, he must know about something, I'm sure," Hopkin stammered, looking concerned.
"He means anything that has to do with science," Wickwright corrected further, somewhat exasperated.
"Oh." Hopkin mumbled. Well, why hadn't Coyotl Coyotl just said that to begin with? "The next time Coyotl Coyotl says he doesn't know about nothing, I will remember that."
"Anyway," Wickwright interjected, changing the subject, "I think the idea is excellent, my friend. The Scientists can surely aid you in learning about Plagues, and they should accept you by all rights, since you've practically done this chore they sent me on for them. I was incapacitated for most of it, but even while you were ill, you dealt with the arrival of Arelgren and other such matters. Surely that will be enough for them to accept you into their ranks even if you don't know much about science or nothing, as you claim." His expression darkening somewhat, he added, "And if that crow you sent wasn't lying about messengers in Panymium, the Scientists should consider themselves lucky that at least one mail carrier wants to side with them." With Coyotl so near to hand, Wickwright hadn't considered the dilemma of the mail, but now that they were almost at their destination it weighed on him heavily. Even with Coyotl deciding to come to Gadu, their paths would have to split eventually. Letter writing was essential to Wickwright, who had numerous contacts around Panymium, and spent most of his time constantly traveling. He needed messengers he could trust, especially in times like these. "Do you think they will still pursue you? Pursue us? Since Arelgren joined us, we haven't had much trouble from those damned Obscuvians. I'd be suspicious of a trap, but I trust Arelgren. He's a terribly clever boy, despite the fact that his brain is sometimes addled, and he's a good sort. Good enough, for an Obscuvian."
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 1:15 pm
Coyotl scrunched his face as Hopkin puzzled at his misuse of words. What did it matter, anyway? The point got across whether or not he worded it properly, didn't it? He didn't press the issue, though; he had a feeling it wouldn't get him anywhere. Even now that the book-boy looked human, to get into a disagreement with him seemed like a very strange thing to do. But he brightened at Wickwright's seeming confidence that the Scientists would accept him into their ranks, though he still wasn't quite as sure about it himself. "You think so? I mean, yeah, 'course," he blustered, jumping to his feet and jogging back to the guard's wagon as if he'd just remembered something important. "Hang on a minute--"
He ducked in the door and came back out again quickly, not wanting to disturb the guides in case they still felt sore at him. Hoisted in both arms was the jar containing his fish. Since the course of the conversation seemed to concern its future, Coyotl thought it only proper to fetch the koi... not that it could understand them (he assumed), but it seemed right that it should be close by nonetheless. He settled it down on the ground next to one knee, as he usually kept it, pulling out the cork to allow it some light. "There," he said to himself, the impulse satisfied.
"Your guess's as good as mine, about the Obscuvans." Coyotl couldn't hide his grimace at the very thought of the bird-masked Cultists. He wasn't inclined to trust any of that bunch, not even ones that Wickwright knew personally; Arelgren might have helped them, but it was hard for Coyotl to reconcile that fact with his growing hatred of anyone or anything affiliated with the House. At best, they were to be avoided, as far as he was concerned. "If they're still tailing us, they're making a damn tight secret of it, and once we get to Gadu, we'll have a whole 'nother kettle of fish to worry about. Meantime, it can't hurt to keep our guard up."
If there was one thing he hated, it was the feeling of being hunted, chased around like a lone piece in a game of checkers. Coyotl rubbed his palm, his face set in a look of determination. "Even if the Scientists are in as much of a mess as the rest of us, it can't do any harm to side with 'em. Sooner I can stop running like a scared rabbit, the better. And I can start figuring out what I'll need to do, when..." He gestured at the jar with one hand, not sure what the proper term was for the change he was trying to refer to. "... When things get more complicated."
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Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 9:51 pm
As soon as the koi came out, Hopkin scrambled over to get a better look at it now that he was big. It was still beautiful, to his delight, and he smiled into the water, wondering if it would remember his face. "May I touch your nameless koi, Coyotl Coyotl?" he asked, looking up at the Grimm hopefully. He had never felt a fish before, but they looked much like snakes. Were they cool to the touch?
"Not only that, but you're a Grimm," Wickwright added as Hopkin asked his questions. Gesturing at the fish, he said, "They're looking for plagues. Not that they'll get much use out of Hopkin without my express consent, but if you're a Grimm, you have a place waiting for you in any of the factions, I figure. Sometimes whether you want that place or not." He grimaced as the Obscuvians infiltrated every aspect of their conversation. The damn things were like ants, industrious and difficult to crush. "I agree, we can keep an eye out for any unwelcome guests. We've evaded them thus far, now that things seem to have reached a lull, we may be in the clear. They're clever, but I'm cleverer." Statement of fact. Wickwright's ego when it came to his own cleverness was so tremendous that he didn't need to brag: he merely observed as if it was the natural way of the world. With no Bunting to keep him in check, he was worse than the first Finches in that regard.
He softened as Coyotl discussed his plans. "Any ally is better than none at all," he agree, thinking of the fragmented and useless Jawbone Society, O'Neill refusing him support. "And the Scientists are still powerful, mess or no. Just don't forget to run when you have to, please, my friend. A live Coyotl is far better suited to me than a dead one, and if I hear you died making some foolish last stand, I'll never forgive you."
Hopkin looked up from where he was staring at the koi, bewildered. "But you-"
"It didn't kill me!" Wickwright snapped, waving Hopkin's comment away carelessly. "When it kills me, then maybe we can talk about hypocrisy. Anyway, I was talking about Coyotl."
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Posted: Tue Apr 19, 2011 9:00 pm
Coyotl was a bit relieved that Hopkin falling into the koi's jar was no longer a thing they'd have to worry about. "Sure, if you like," he said with a nod, peeping into the water as he did so. The koi was swimming about near the surface, as lackadaisical as always, but if it was touched, it would probably show a bit more activity. Coyotl had never attempted the same himself; on occasion, he'd dipped a fingertip into the water while feeding the fish, and let it nibble experimentally at the digit before figuring out that it wasn't food. (That was the lucky thing about it, he always thought; the koi ate nearly whatever it was offered, so he'd never had to go looking for any special type of food for it.) "Maybe it will need a name soon," he mused half to himself. He'd been turning the idea over in his head for a while, but he still had no idea what to call the thing. Hopefully it wouldn't make a difference for a while yet.
Even through Wickwright's assurances that his status as a Grimm would make him a worthwhile prospect for the Scientists, Coyotl couldn't shake the feeling that they might see him as more of a liability than anything. It would do him no good to think that way, though, he reminded himself. If nothing else, he did have his services as a courier to offer the Council. Secure communication was vital for any group, especially in such troubled times as they were living in.
"No last stands, got it," he agreed in response to Wickwright's warning. Certainly, he had no plans to attempt any heroics in the event that things turned ugly in Gadu. He'd be the first to beat it out of town at the earliest sign of trouble. But Coyotl couldn't help snorting slightly as Hopkin admonished his Grimm for the man's lack of regard for his own safety. "He's got a point, you know," he said with a smile. "You'd better keep a hold on your risky business, even if you are the cleverest of the clever-britches." At this, he leaned back a bit where he sat, folding his arms and raising his eyebrows in a look that was half-joking-- but also half-serious. "We'll make a swear on it. Keep your nose out of trouble when you can, and dust it quick-like when you can't. Deal?"
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Posted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 9:28 pm
Hopkin reached down to touch the koi, brushing his fingers against its smooth, white scales and then quickly pulling his hand out of the water. Blinking, he looked back into the jar and touched it again, less hesitantly, then smiled, stroking its back once or twice before he wiped his hand off on his tunic. "Names are important," he informed Coyotl Coyotl insistently. "Think about it."
Wickwright, who had simply named Hopkin after his uncle because he couldn't very well call the thing 'book', coughed and changed the subject. "I'll try to dust my nose quickly," he agreed, raising his spindly hands in surrender, "Unless it's absolutely necessary not to. I have to keep that little devil safe, first and foremost, and he brings me more trouble than a murder of crows could." He jerked a thumb over at Hopkin, who still had his hands resting on Coyotl's jar, watching the koi swim.
Hopkin bit his lip, but remembered what Wickwright said. If he was harmed, they were both ruined, which made him more important than Wickwright, though he wasn't sure he could handle himself without Wickwright around to tell him what to do. He supposed that since he was more important, Wickwright couldn't really promise to put himself first. It made sense to prioritize logically rather than emotionally.
He knew all this, but still, he wished Wickwright would be less flippant about it. He never wanted to have to worry about his Grimm dying in earnest again.
"Anyway," Wickwright joked, "At my age, last stands are different. Rather have my death be an interesting story to tell rather than go peacefully in my sleep. You, you're still a young man, so you might as well try to ensure you become an old man one day, too. Really, it's not so bad once you get used to the aching muscles and receding hairline."
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Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 8:28 pm
Coyotl didn't try to hide his grin at Hopkin's hesitant interactions with the koi, watching as the fish sped up the lazy flicking of its tail momentarily, then investigated the surface of the water to see if it was being fed. He was pleased by the idea that even as it was now- little more than a fancy pet that had caused him no end of trouble- the creature was in good company. The book-boy was good company, he decided, even if he got too hung up on grammar and things like that, and even if half the things he said made little sense. "I think," Coyotl said to Hopkin, "after this fish changes into... whatever it's going to be, you two should meet again. Maybe then it can tell you its own name. Like a proper introduction." Maybe, he thought without speaking, he would have to do the same himself, if he couldn't think of a name for the thing. If koi were truly wise, perhaps it would be able to tell him what it wanted to be called.
Wickwright had a point, he supposed, about dying with some fanfare, but as the older man jokingly poked fun at his own age, Coyotl couldn't help looking a bit skeptical. He wasn't sure he particularly wanted his death to be an "interesting story". "'Peacefully in my sleep' sounds fine to me," he declared, "'specially if my muscles ache." After a long day spent running mail all over town, his knees often gave him plenty of complaints; he wasn't looking forward to finding out how they'd feel at the age of fifty.
Coyotl rubbed his hands together, then, as if he'd just had an important thought. "So tell me, then," he said, "what're you going to be doing for the Scientists, once they let you in? D'you know yet?" He had no idea whether Wickwright would know, realistically, but he figured he'd ask anyway. Though he knew of the Council, he knew little about what they actually did, beyond the rumors and speculation that had circulated on the streets of his former hometown. It couldn't hurt to try and find out a little bit more about them, if only to have some idea of what he'd be getting himself into by petitioning them for membership.
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Posted: Sat Apr 30, 2011 11:07 pm
Pause.
"Anything I can, so long as they don't damage my book," Wickwright answered finally. "I don't know what's going on in Panymium as well as I'd like to, and frankly, we've seen ample evidence that neither do they. But they're looking for a cure, and if I can do anything to assist them, I will. Almost anything." His gaze lingered on Hopkin again and he bit his lip thoughtfully. The offer wasn't as altruistic as it seemed. Since they had left O'Neill he had been thinking of ways to fix the Jawbone Society like he had sworn he would, and looking for a cure to the plague was practically the same as helping to repair the Society- all their problems stemmed from the dratted disease, certainly. O'Neill may have had other things in mind, but if he could see that Hopkin had a use not only to them, but to the Scientists, and that he was protected by a faction, maybe he would change his mind about letting Hopkin into the collection. Wickwright would hunt down the other Jawbone Men and try to persuade them all he wanted, but ultimately, O'Neill was the undisputed, unspoken leader of the Society now that Kingsley was gone.
He needed Hopkin, he needed protection, and he needed a solution. Wickwright was caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Hopkin, you'd like to meet Coyotl's koi again, correct?" he asked, changing the subject. Hopkin nodded eagerly, blonde hair spilling around his eyes. "Yes, Wickwright," he said, looking back at the fish admiringly.
"Here's a deal for you then, Coyotl, my friend," Wickwright offered. "After you have settled your bargain with our fine friends the Scientists, and officially joined their flock, do begin to keep notes during your journeys. We're both travelers, we hear more news than most, and if we both throw in our lots with the Scientists, it's likely we'll meet again in the near future, be it in Gadu or on more accursed faction business. Once we meet again, we can exchange notes, and thus we'll be twice as canny. Deal?" He stuck out a hand and quirked an eyebrow at Coyotl, a facial tic that Hopkin had tried to imitate in the privacy of the wagon now that he had a human body, but failed to master. He tried it again now, and only succeeded in looking pained.
At that moment, one of the guides came out of their own caravan, and Wickwright noticed, hurrying over to him. "How many do you think will die by the time we reach the Sanctuary?" he demanded. The guide was caught unawares, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and glaring at both Hopkin and Coyotl in the background, neither of whom had earned much sympathy from either of the guides while Wickwright was incapacitated.
"I don't know fer sure. Ten to twenty, maybe, most are in a bad shape after such a slow journey. Why?"
"Would it help if one caravan went ahead with the worst of them?" Wickwright demanded.
"Probably if a faster caravan went ahead it would help, yes. But who would lead it?"
"Wickwright, no," Hopkin interjected, looking genuinely pained now. He anticipated the typical Finch reply, and was rewarded with the answer he had been dreading.
"Load the worst into my wagon. Hopkin and I will carry them ahead."
"You sure?" the guide asked incredulously. "Right after you recover an' all?"
"If one more person dies because of that dratted disease on this caravan, it will not be because we did not try every possible option to get them to that sanctuary alive. I have experienced the plague now, I'll not have the rest of that lot in there dying from their experience. Anyway, I beat that disease once, and now I feel so fit that I'm sure I could do it at least three times over. A Grimm's immunity, indeed, well done, Hopkin!"
Hopkin paused, his concern suffused with confusion at the strange compliment throwing him off the offensive. "Um, th-thank you...?" he offered nervously. However, after a few moments he caught up with himself. "But going would still be highly unwise!" he insisted more vehemently than he was accustomed to, remembering the night that Wickwright almost died.
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2011 12:09 am
As Wickwright laid out the terms of the deal he was proposing, Coyotl cocked his own eyebrow in puzzlement. Take notes? He'd never been asked to do anything like that before, and he wasn't entirely sure he knew what it actually entailed. What would he take notes about? Well, Wickwright had said something about news; it would make sense for him to write down anything he might hear that could pertain to either of them, or the Scientists as a whole. Developing that kind of habit might even make him more appealing to the faction, for all he knew. He was pretty sure scientists were all about that kind of thing, writing notes and making observations. With this in mind, he took the other Grimm's hand in his own and shook firmly, a determined smile on his face.
"Deal," he agreed. "I'll keep my ears up, and write down whatever needs writing." The arrangement might have more practical applications than he'd realized at first. With any luck, Coyotl would have plenty of opportunity to take notes on Plagues for himself, as well as any information-gathering he did for Wickwright, and the exercise might even help to improve his penmanship. (Coyotl's handwriting was not so much poor as it was completely destitute; while he'd worked for the postal service in Alciony, he'd been officially barred from taking down any information that needed to be kept for the office's records, due to the fact that hardly anyone could read anything that he wrote. It hadn't yet occurred to him to worry about that fact.)
The sound of the door to the guides' caravan opening behind him made Coyotl start and turn a bit nervously, worried that he'd somehow been loud enough to wake one of the guides, but it appeared that wasn't the case. As Wickwright got up to talk to the man, he noticed the dirty look that he was being given, and scowled back, folding his arms across his chest and jutting out his jaw in a pointless gesture of defiance. Luckily, the guide had looked away by that point, so there would be no repeats of the previous night's altercation.
Coyotl was only half listening to the conversation between the other two, until he heard Hopkin's protest-- then he realized what Wickwright was actually suggesting, and his face fell faster than a brick. "Oh no, no," he muttered, not quite loud enough for Wickwright to hear; his eyes flicked back and forth between the older man and Hopkin as Wickwright justified his plan and the Plague-now-boy continued to object to it.
"I'd say he's right about that," Coyotl spoke up, pointing at Hopkin and frowning with the air of one who knows they are about to lose an argument before it has even begun. "Isn't there any other way?" He hated to admit it, but even as he spoke, he could see where Wickwright was coming from. It wasn't a bad idea, given that it would probably result in the lot of them making better time on their way to the plague sanctuary. That would be a boon to them all, sick and healthy alike. But still...
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Posted: Wed May 04, 2011 10:32 am
"If you can think of one, I'll be happy to adopt it, Coyotl," Wickwright replied. "However, this was the only way I could think of while I considered the issue in my fevered delirium. I am in charge of this caravan crossing, so unless I have a radically altered idea of what leadership is, that means that what I say goes if I wish to overrule you. And I do. I wish to overrule you, Hopkin, and the guide, and then I wish to go ahead to the sanctuary with the sickest so they won't have to wait while we deal with the dead." He grinned a wide grin. Leadership wasn't something Finch men got to take advantage of often these days, and it was a heady, drunken feeling, especially mixed with the potent pleasure of feeling well again.
"But you promised!" Hopkin blurted, looking distressed. "Jawbone Men don't break promises."
"This is a necessary risk," Wickwright countered. "The more we can get to the sanctuary alive, the more likely the Scientists are to decide we've succeeded. We need scientist support, correct, Hopkin?"
Hopkin looked miserable. "So you've told me, but-"
"It's decided then," Wickwright announced. "Come on, it's time we were getting onward! We're nearly done this journey, let's finish it."
"No!"
Wickwright paused, looking at Hopkin. Flying on wings of panic, Hopkin stammered, "Y-You nearly died, Wickwright Finch, a-and you can't risk that again, I won't, wont, I won't let you." He stood there, puffing his chest out for a moment, but then flinched and stepped back nervously, until he was nearly behind Coyotl. "I still need you," muttered the Plague quietly, the brief moment of bravery completely evaporated. Wickwright frowned.
"I made you talk to those plagued people when you were an excito, Hopkin. Do you want them to die? All those people you met?"
"N-no," Hopkin admitted.
"Do you want to take them to the plague sanctuary?"
Hopkin nodded.
"Then we need to take a risk."
"A necessary risk?" Hopkin quavered.
"A necessary risk," Wickwright affirmed. "Coyotl, do you mind parting ways briefly? We'll meet again at the sanctuary if you wish to accompany the guides and myself back to Gadu. If not, you are quite free to leave, and I thank you for your excellent company."
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