Completed A Fly in the Soup

[Josai]

She watched the big man stir. As if the tale was bubbling inside him still.

Too hot, she wondered. Or, just filtering through all the grit and gravel that clogged up the sink the big Dawnling called a brain. She but smiled, and organized the stock till his words came through. A gentle nod, to show she was listening as she worked on.

"Words," she echoed, and put the last bottle away as he sighed. Turned to give him a familial look. Looked to where the bottle had splashed against the bar wall.

"Course I do, Mund' o Mine," her smile was tricksome, but no less true. Her eyes glanced back to the man. "Half of us are killers, half them long before they took up any oaths," she laughed and looked down at the planks. At her own hands, folded across her waist. "Vagrants, wanted folk, runaways who keep half their tale hidden," she clutched her hand, and looked back up at the man. "Be awfully odd if I didn't believe in a thing like, redemption, hmm?" she nod at him. "Or you meaning something a little less," she unfolded her arms and waggled her fingers. "Grandiose,"

@Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Grandiose.' Faramund huffed a smile. 'Fancy, but no, nothing so grandiose. I'm talking small-time here, 'bout yea big.' He straightened up, held his hands about so-so apart. 'If you must know -and this stays between us!- I pissed off the Captain.' The admission hurt. Not like how getting stabbed hurt. 'Twas more a wound of the soul he was having to deal with.

Personally, he would have preferred the cut of steel.

Helena had gone a-storming, and he had taken a stroll of his own. To cool off. To piece together the parts of his temper that still meshed. If any. 'Figures there's nothing time can't fix. Only...' He paused, more for effect than to let his mind catch up. 'I'd like to expedite the process, if you catch my meaning.' A smile, as bold as it was true.

'I hear she likes tea. A gift, maybe?'

Josai

 

[Josai]

Josai watched him measure out the imagined problem, and she smirked. "I see,"

At the mention of the Captain, she feigned surprise. "Selene?" she laughed. "Didn't think you'd go for so much woman, Mund," her fingers reached up, and tipped a hat that shimmered betwixt pinched fingers, born from blue light.

Course. She knew it was not Selene he spoke of. But she did like to see him squirm a bit.

Specially after the bottle he'd cost her.

The hat phased back to motes of dust. And she made a motion with her hand, as if spooling a yarn about three fingers. "You two seeing each other like that?" she asked plainly. "Giving gifts, and... expediting?"

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

No? Yes? Maybe? 'It's complicated,' he said, reaching for an explanation that would help him say what needed saying. 'Helena's been good to me. Done more for me than I should ever have expected from one so venerated.' Both Captains were just that, but in Faramund's mind, Helena held the advantage. No doubt it would have been the reverse had he ended up a dusker.

A fate worse than death, that.

'A gift given freely would allow me room to manoeuvre my way out of the mess I landed myself in.' He paused. 'Then again, knowing my fool-ass, I'll probably end up with my foot in my mouth.' He smiled. The possibility worried him, but all worthwhile rewards required a dash of risk, and he had been taking more than most lately.

'I dunno, Jos. I suppose all I can do is try.'

Josai

 

[Josai]

"Complicated," she parroted, a smirk on her lips. "Right..." then came the name behind the trouble. The name she'd already known was there.

But what came from the big man's mouth was... odd.

Still, she listened, calm and quiet as he went on. Let the quiet settle between them, let the sound of the rain against the windows, and the rumble of the thunder fill that gap.

She rocked back and forth a bit, easy like as she smiled. "I don't know about all this... maneuvering and venerated business you are on about, Mundy Mund, sounds like a bunch of nonsense, tell it true," she grinned. Jut her chin at him.

"Mean, you're a right squirrely bastard, for being such a big slab of meat," she shook her head. "just look at how long it took ya ta tell me who you'd gotten into it with," she pushed off the counter, and grabbed a clay cup. Walked to the basin, and pumped the handle. Water rushed out and filled the cup. She stepped over to him, and put the cup before him, a smirk on her lips. "Sometimes, there is such a thing as trying too hard, Mund, hmm? Lena's just a person, title or no,"

She let go of the drink, and went back to leaning against the back of the bar, her witchy eyes bright with mischief. "Course," she said as she folded her arms with a conspiratorial smile. "Feel free to go and expedite your maneuvers," she grinned some. "Give us hens about the Monastery plenty to peck at,"

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Mund son of Mund snorted, amused. 'Squirrely? Me? Hardly!' Josai placed a cup of water down in front of him, and the big dawnling picked it up, gave it a swirl. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm thinking too much into this,' he sipped, sighed. 'Still,' he said, placing the drink down, 'I'd best tread carefully. Don't wanna go upsetting Helena now, person that she is.'

No more than he had already. Though maybe he was reading too much into that, also.

'Anyways, I'd appreciate it if the Mother Hen would keep my cluckin' to herself. Our brethren gossip enough as is without you sticking your beak in.' He held up his hands. 'No offense.' Grinning, buoyed by Josai's supportive words, the dawnling slipped some fingers into his belt pouch. 'Here,' he said, slapping a few silvery coins down on the bar. 'For the bottle, and the trouble I've caused you.'

Faramund was many things, most of them bad. But he paid his debts. Monetary or otherwise.

Best avoid using fancy words from now on, too, he thought, blinking. Expedite. Manoeuvre. Proper dawnling jargon, that, not fit for a dusker's ears.

Josai

 

[Josai]

A nod. The sort a friend gave a friend who had finally come to. "One would hope," she added onto the note of upsetting their companion.

She gave a shrug. "Hardly think you'd care if you did offend," she laughed. "But, then, what's life without a surprise or two," she took the coins. Slipped a couple down her sleeve, and saluted the big man with the last, tipping it to her crown as she bowed. "Much appreciated, Mundy," the last coin slipped down her wide mouthed sleeve, and clinked somewhere there with the others. "And no offense taken, case you were still wondering," she smiled, and went back to her work, putting the bottles in order with quick plops and clinks of the old glass things.

"What's new with you, though," she asked idly as the storm raged outside. "Sides the whole, pissing off the captain, deal," she teased.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Sides the usual, you mean?' Faramund smiled, though he had the good sense to feel bad about it. 'Not much, honestly. Been stuck here for close to a month, twiddling my thumbs and breaking things. Well, one thing, to be exact, but we just settled up on that.' It wasn't every day Faramund allowed his anger to overtake him. But, then, it wasn't every day the Spear Witch decided to forego curses and opt for coin, instead.

He was lucky to have friends such as her. Luckier than he would ever care to admit.

'Lots of exercise, lots of eating, little rest,' he shrugged, 'I prefer it that way. Staying still just doesn't appeal to me the way it used to.' He had been a right lazy bastard when he'd first joined the Order. Under Merrycourt's tutelage, however, that had changed. Swiftly, and seemingly for good.

Seemingly.

'What about you?' he asked, drinking some more water. To clear his mind. Sober thoughts. 'Much going on in the wonderfully wicked world of Syr Josai, other than putting up with my... what did you call it? Nonsense?'

Josai

 

[Josai]

"Keeping busy is important," she agreed idly. "But so is proper rest, Mundy," she looked over her shoulder with a smile, and winked at him. Went back to organizing the bottles.

Once the last bottle was set in its place, she gave a small satisfied nod to herself, popped up tall and dusted her hands off before she turned to face the big man. She rest her rump on the back counter, and crossed her arms over her chest. She craned her head one way, and her dark curls shift over her shoulder.

"Wonderfully wicked, huh?" she smirked. Shook her head with a little laugh, and gave a nod. "Nothing too exciting," she measured out. "Keeping up with my field expeditions, learning more about the blight, and, well, you know, general witchery," she scrunched up her nose and made little claws with her hands as she gave her head a shake.


Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Business as usual, then.' Mund nod. 'Keeping busy is important.' Taking his cup in hand, Faramund turned his back on the dusk 'tender. The incessant rain had the Knoll practically quaking, and for once, the man was grateful not to be out in it. Damp clothes sucked, but not nearly as much as hypothermia.

Hope the Cap's okay, he thought, picturing her in his mind's eye, only to regret the decision a few heartbeats later.

'Suppose I'd best go get some rest,' he sighed, about-faced to regard the Spear Witch with honest intent. 'Thanks for the talk, Jos... and the, uh, water.' He plopped it down on the bar. Striking to his feet, he lumbered on over to the table he had formerly occupied. The book from earlier was still there, still open.

A name jumped out at him from amidst the jumbled scrawl. It began with Fara and ended in Mund.

He brushed it closed, secreted it away on a part of his persons that wasn't soaked from the rain he'd stumbled through to get back here. 'Don't s'pose you've got a spare cloak lying around? Only I seem to have misplaced mine.'

Josai

 

[Josai]

A gentle nod. "Of course, Faramund, just being a friend," then a smirk. "You smash another bottle though, and no more miss nice witch," a cool certainty in her eyes, a smugness in the way she smiled. Like she knew exactly how to solve the aforementioned problem.

She watched him close the book. Scanned about for an answer to his latest hurdle. "Hmm," she sounded aloud. Went under the bar, and came up with an old cloth. "Got this old thing," she said, and tossed the bundle over. "Might buy you a bit of time, but it ain't exactly water proof,"

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Faramund caught the flying bundle, laid it out on the table. Jos was right. The cloth was old, older than the both of them combined, from the look of it. 'Better than nothing,' he grumbled, sending a brief smile Josai's way. 'Thanks!'

Strolling over to the doorway, the dawnling drew to a halt.

The storm outside was getting worse. Raining cats and dogs out there, Faramund mused, a shimmer of distant lightning casting a long shadow across the Knoll. For a split second, it appeared as if there was a second figure standing beside the dawnling.

But when the lightshow settled down, and the peel of thunder had died away, there was naught but the big man himself standing there, alone with his thoughts. And a friend. 'I won't forget this, Jos!' He called back. 'Count on that!' Without turning around, Faramund left the dusker to it.

---​

It was still raining when dawn came. The stone pathways and cobbled yards of the Monastery had grown slick and treacherous overnight. Squires wearing long raincoats dashed hitherto, labouring with brushes and sandbags in order to battle Mother Nature wherever she had grown too callous with her touch.

Voices, many of them young and inexperienced, carried orders and advice to those close enough to hear. The few knights there were about the monastery simply watched things unfold. It was too early in the day for such excitement. 'Sides, their young proteges looked like they had everything under control. What was there to worry about?

None of the knights seemed to notice the absence of one of their number. Not at first, anyway.

But as the sun rose, and the storm died down, it became all too clear just who had slipped away in the early hours of the morning. Especially since the man in question turned up at the monastery gates a couple hours after breakfast, carrying a package, and wearing a smile that was more sheep than wolf.

'Morning!' He nodded to the knight assigned to gate duty, a man he knew well. 'Faramund.' Syr Jarro greeted his wayward brother with something akin to surprise. 'What the hell have you been up to? You look like a drowned rat!' Smiling, the dawnling patted the package sitting in the crook of his left arm.

'Oh, not much. Just popped down to the shops before the morning rush,' he explained. 'Why? What have you been up to?'

'Guarding the gate,' Jarro replied, stoically. 'Not very well, apparently. Now, can I help you with somethin' or are you just gonna put down roots there for the rest of day?'

'Well, that all rather depends.'

'On?'

'On whether or not you know where to find the Captain, and before you ask, yes, that Captain.'

 

[Bebin Theros]

"Is that you, Faramund?" came a voice from the shadows, and out stepped Syr Theros. Midnight cloth neatly bound about his crown.

A cruel humor crooked at the corner of his lips.

"Last I checked, you were to remain upon Monastery grounds," A curious quirk of his brow begged for answer. "What's this then, about... that Captain,"

---

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Syr Bebin! What a terribly inconvenient surprise!' Torn between a smile and a scowl, Faramund settled on neither. He had heard the dusker was lurking about, and had -quite foolishly, as it turned out- expected a visit from him sooner rather than later.

Like last night, say. Before I went and put my foot in it.

'Yes, well, what are rules for if not to be broken?' Fighting a smirk, the dawnling was soon overpowered. He knew it would probably piss off Bebin, but, then, that was half the fun. 'I wanted to see Helena. To... apologise, if you must know.' He held up the box in his hand. It had been wrapped, packaged for transport in rough weather.

The jeweller was a kind, thoughtful soul, like most of Astenvale's smallfolk.

'S'pose you'll be wanting a look before you allow me access?' That, or he's about to lock me up again. Likely both.

Bebin Theros

 

[Bebin Theros]

Bebin's smile showed teeth. "To be followed, Syr," came his breath in cold indifference, despite the grin.

His eyes flit to the box. Closed as he shook his head and raised a hand to dismiss it.

"I'd be wanting for you to follow protocol," his eyes opened, and he looked to his friend. "Check in, at the very least, take things seriously," he tilt his head toward the Monastery behind them. The home many of them chose. "Come, I'll walk you to her office, and we can... chat," the last word was almost a grumble.

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'Seriously,' he let the word hang, gave Bebin a nod. 'Fair enough.' The gift was supposed to be just that. The start of something serious. Whether Helena would accept it for what it was remained to be seen, however. Fortunately, he had time to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.

'Whoa, now, brother! Let's not get ahead of ourselves!' Faramund quipped, falling into step alongside the dusker. He knew the Monastery like the back of his hand, and had seen pretty much all there was to see at one time or another.

'How've you been keeping? Busy?' Another joke, that. Faramund's grin was as broad as his shoulders. Ain't no rest for the wicked, he thought, keeping the package close to his side as they walked.

Bebin Theros

 

[Bebin Theros]

A grunt. "Busy is as busy does," the Dusker kept moving up the path. "And from what I've gathered, you've been up to a fair deal," his lips curled with warm malice.

---

Faramund

 

[Faramund]

'You know, I hate it when you do that.' Faramund complained, affecting a shiver. Bebin was a friend, and a damned good one at that. But he had a reputation for being a nasty piece of work. The creepy smiling did him no favours.

'This is normally the part where I'd ask you what exactly it is you think you've gathered. But y'know what? I'm good!'

 

[Bebin Theros]

Another huff of breath. Amused. Their pace even. "Games, and more games then,"

 

[Faramund]

'The more things change, the more they stay the same,' Faramund ruminated, adopting the same mysterious tone Bebin liked to use when dealing with the likes of him.

'Any news from the city?' he asked, expecting jackshit in return. 'I recall a certain aspirant causing quite the stir,' he grinned, needling the Pursuant with talk of his favourite prospect.

Games, and more games.

 

[Bebin Theros]

Silence as they stepped. Near in tandum.

"Now you seek for information on our number afield," he mulled it over aloud. "In the same shithole where we nearly died to an ambush," He let it hang in the air. Grinned, though it was a cold thing. "What's this all about, Mund," he repeated his question. "You sneaking off,"

If they were going toward the Hall of Command, they were taking the scenic root.

 

[Faramund]

'If I planned on going, I'd be gone already,' the dawnling replied, hard edge to his voice. All the better to hide the hurt he felt. 'Believe it or not, I was asking after Petra, not the intricacies of our operation in the city.'

His steps faltered as he turned his gaze to the monastery around them. Familiar sights, similar sounds, a sense of safety. And yet...

'It is still our operation, right, brother?' His eyes bore into the dusker's back. There was space between them now. A rift that Faramund felt was beyond his ability to close. He tried all the same. 'Or was I mistaken about that, too?'

 

[Bebin Theros]

Bebin stilled. "Do you want a medal for doing what is necessary, Syr Faramund?" he turned about and stared coldly at his sworn kin. His battle brother. The man who had pulled him from the shit, and who he had dragged in turn. "Or did you simply forget,"

Bebin would never forget. Not as long as he drew breath. The strangeness he had seen there behind the light of Faramund's eyes. The thing he had felt slithering away. A thing more terrible than any horror he has faced so far, for it wore his friend's face.

"What would you do in my place, you fool ass?" He growled. "Am I not to write the report? Is Jarro to pretend he did not see you arriving this morning?" His hand tightened to a fist. "Are we to be complicite in this little game of yours, Mund?" he glared, eyes narrowed as he looked for answers. "If it's our operation, bloody act like it,"

 

[Faramund]

'Bloody act like it, huh? Isn't that what you're all accusing me of doing? Acting!' The anger Faramund turned to in times of stress never made it into his voice. Nor his eyes. Brown, they were, flecked with gold. 'Think I don't want to? Think I'd give up on the Family so easily?' Evidently, he did. Otherwise he would have picked his words more carefully.

'I don't know what else there is to say, Bebin. I told you all I know- all I know.'

His booted feet crunched as he took a few steps forward. 'About the blackouts, about my past,' he grimaced, gaze falling away from the dusker to the garden path along which they walked. Songbirds fluttered amongst the trees, their chip-chip-chirping echoing down the colonnaded walkways.

My past... the sourest subject of all.

'No birthday. No parents, other than the name of the man who sired me. Faramund. Pretty funny, no?' He forced a smile. It didn't improve his mood anymore than it did Bebin's. A silence descended between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Some, unsurprisingly, did not belong to him. Faramund had taken to calling them Bad Thoughts, partly because that's what they were.

And partly because it amused the thing infecting his mind.

'Look, Bebin, I'm not asking you or Jarro to cover for me. Make your report, and spare no detail. It's the right thing to do. The only thing, really. His eyes rose, opening up like windows to the soul. 'For what it's worth, I don't hold it against you for treating me with caution, and, I suppose, suspicion.' He paused, rubbed his jaw.

Two week's worth of fuzz, or there about. The consequence of having no razor with which to shave.

'I mean, it hurts. Fuck me, does it hurt!' He took a step forwards, another. 'But I find when forced to eat shit, it's best not to nibble.'

 

[Bebin Theros]

Bebin watched his brother struggle through his words. Give up his secrets, as best he could. Submit to whatever fate would come.

Each breath that swelled in his chest, only made the knot in his gut all the tighter.

Each step his sworn kin took, made his heart sink all the deeper.

The Basilisk shut his eyes, and raised a hand. "Stop," he said calmly. Let out a long sigh. Tension eased from his shoulders. He grinned, warmth in it despite the cruel curl. Wondered if the Dawnling would stand by his words. Be ready for all the shit he would have to eat.

"We've convened as to your... condition, brother," the smile was gone. And there was no joy in his eyes, despite the love in his last word.

Their games were over.

"Our Captain of Dusk has recommended to the Sanctums that we place you in the Nymphaeum chamber, and that She and I dive into..." a lift of the chin. "Whatever is going on up there to take a better look,"