Fable - Ask There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy...

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

"Hush, Iblis! Hush! Your lunch awaits you, but you can't just cry about it. You are bigger than this." said the little man, tone dripping with disappointment.

The wiry thing, the visage of a brown Borzoi, sat in front of the desk tucked away behind many bookshelves, and stared temptingly up at the man, raising protest.

---

From the outside, in the sprawl between the Inner and Outer city walls of Alliria, sat the relatively unassuming brownstone, bordered on one side by condemned housing, on the other by a typically barren alley. A flickering firelit sign hangs above the door which sat not far below street level, a cat's eye staring out impassively, with the fancy scrawl of "Bunnie Beiderbecke - All-Occult - Come With Business!" below it.

To many first-time or business visitors walking through the heavy wooden door, it's window lightly frosted, the only thing clear and easy to see at first in the dim light is a large silver bell with a large red bow around it's handle on the counter at right, practically beckoning with "Ring me!"

Otherwise upon entry, the waft of damp moss, strong herbs, and even stronger Kalitii oils rolls strongly about one's nose and tongue. The counter, glass fronted, is nigh full and covered with a smattering of figures, books, and talismans. Along the wall on the left are shelves of glass bowls and boxes containing small damp creatures, and small wooden cages for furrier little things. The rest of the room- save for narrow lanes -is filled with many a brimming shelf, table, and case. Straight down the back is a dark wooden door, indicated "Private!" by a sign, behind which is hidden Bunnie's office, among other things. Sachets and bundles hang from the two large rafter beams.

And that is only the beginning of this little place...

---

A much larger, hairier Malamute-Bloodhound bays loudly, irritated at a stranger passing by the low barred window, unknowing of the contents of the shoppe.

"Mephistos, my doll, you will scare away even the loyal customers. Where would you be without them, hm?"

Mephistos growls, but just as quickly retreats to the corner of the room at the dismissive wave of Bunnie's hand.

Silly creature. Even amongst Fiends, you have your baser children, beloved not for tact but for what heart they have.

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Gulliver did not like to ask for help. A variety of reasons contributed to that mentality, the largest one being that he liked to keep his business to himself and did not like other people to feel entitled to drag him into their business. Of course, part of him did genuinely just not want to trouble other people as he could ultimately be a lot of trouble, and they wouldn't know what they were getting into. And then there was that tiny bit of pride... Gulliver had been handling himself just fine for centuries. Why bring anyone else into the picture?

But Daisy? Gulliver would risk treading the barbed line of the Laws of Magic for Daisy. Asking for help was trivial, and he didn't suffer from a lack of people who would be willing to help him. Goodly neighbors he greeted warmly each time he saw them, urchins he had shared food with, mothers whose children's broken bones he had set, couples he had gifted flowers to for their weddings.

So why not them, then? The issue was... very, very few people knew about Daisy, beyond his shop being her namesake. Very, very few people were allowed to know about Daisy. And even fewer would be okay with the very idea that Daisy existed. Such truths greatly limited his pool on who he could seek for help.

And that was why he was shouldering his way into the diminutive fiend's shop front, the inside of his cheek already caught between his teeth as he tried to anticipate exactly how the encounter would go. The herbaceous, dewy scent that met his nose was familiar, not only because he had known the fiend for several decades, but because it was vaguely similar to the common perfumes within his own home in the countryside.

Gulliver's front, as usual, was with his many layers of affable neighborliness and goodwill, the inside of his cheek released to spread a smile across his lips. The corners of his pale eyes crinkled warmly as he made a show of looking around as if he had never seen the place before but my wasn't this all so impressive?

"Sir Beiderbecke, would you happen to be in?" Called his mellow voice, the dimmest lilt suggesting humor that would go missed by anyone that didn't know him well. Gulliver rarely bothered with formalities with Bunnie anymore unless he were poking fun at the man or aware that others might be within earshot.

He didn't stay put, of course, instead peaking his head around a corner as any curious first time shopper might, grey-blues blinking in wonder. "Sir Beiderbecke?"

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

The light thunk! of the door closing pulled his already tenuous interest from his utterly dreadful paperwork. For being in a less that scrupulous line of work, it certainly came with far too many trails to detail or cover up. He listened intently, friend or foe.

"Sir Beiderbecke, would you happen to be in?" came the mellow, familiar voice, tilted on the edge of humour.

Well that is certainly better than the bell.

A smile eases it's way onto his face as he rises, casting another wave at the dogs to remain mostly quiet. He creeps softly through his office door, leaving it well open, and eases the private door open just a breath. It hadn't been terribly long, nor terribly soon, since they had last met, and nearly every meeting was exciting in some way to Bunnie, if not for the content of it, but for the simple fact that the man in his shop seemed to like him on top of any skillset provided.

I see you, Gulliver Ingold. What has brought you to me this day and early hour, my ever-held friend? Angel problems, the alignment of moons?

The white-haired man peaked around a bookshelf, playing as though everything was new. "Sir Beiderbecke?"

As the little creatures scurried noisily in their homes, and a shelf of young plants tracked the presence of Gulliver with pink fang-like barbs around folded leaves, Bunnie moved. His lips drew into a grin as he opened the door quietly and slunk up. Hoping, at least, to seem to materialize from the shadow to his friend as he leaned himself against the end of a tall, ancient shelf. A silly "trick" Bunnie did only rarely to Gulliver to keep its spice, and not one that genuinely concealed his movement.

"Well, Sir Ingold, it has been such a long time, what brings you to grace my humble shop?"

Bunnie continues to grin, not unlike the cat that got the canary, and sculpts at his hair with a swift and easy hand. Mephistos comes bounding from the hall in all his great and hairy bulk to sniff at Gulliver's knee, tail wagging broadly.

The man before him was a long-kept and little-aged friend, and certainly one of his most favourites. Bunnie hadn't met many necromancers with such good humour or such fine visage. Most soured after only the first four additional decades, both mentally and physically. But this one? He lasted. Bunnie could only guess why. Perhaps it was in his Fae nature, neither holy nor damned. Perhaps it was Daisy. Perhaps it was his more antithetical necromantic practices. Bunnie had never heard the man express a desire to raise armies, and many warriors of great longevity indeed lost their touch in such ways of kindness, beauty, or sanity.

"I hope it's another incident with that dip solution I sent you. The Danse Macabre Roses were delightfully amusing. Scratch couldn't stop chasing the poor things."

The Scratch in question, a Rex cat with far too much ego and bombasity for such a little form, sends a croaking raow down from a high perch, and Iblis finds warmth for his forehead under Bunnie's left palm.

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Perhaps Gulliver had been too busy making sure the shop was otherwise empty, or perhaps the shop's keeper deserved credit for knowing how to move about his own property efficiently, but he did manage to catch the half-fae unsuspecting before he spoke. The taller man promptly shot up straighter and turned on heel, hand clutching the thin, fluttery material of the cream colored open jacket he wore to himself as if to keep it from escaping. Those dusty, faded blues of his blinked a few more times before their owner relaxed and allowed a few of those proverbial layers to fall free.

It seemed like no one else was in the shop, after all. It was safe.

The soft, simple halo of his easygoing smile edged into a smile more wry and deliberate, something innately sharper about the man unfurling. That flicker of amusement still beset his eyes, but with an added exasperation that Gulliver usually kept well under wraps in most company. Maybe it seemed a bit backwards that familiarity lead to the exposure of the half-fae's barbs, as opposed to the warm cordiality he was known for, but such was how it was.

Bunnie had earned the level of familiarity that Gulliver did not feel the need to downplay his own nature, but breaching past the discomfort that sort of familiarity burdened Gulliver with was its own beast. The comfort of being known, the disquiet of being known.

"Has it been so long, Rabbit, that you've already forgotten how I detest being startled?" His voice still lilted, but with an added clipped, crispness to it. If he wanted to pretend to be annoyed with Bunnie, however, it didn't last long as Mephistos came barging into his personal space and he sucked in a little breath as if he had never seen the dog before in his life before both hands busied themselves rubbing the sides of the beast's face and flopping his ears about enthusiastically.

"Look at this sweet baby boy," he cooed, turning almost the entirety of his focus to the monster of a dog as he cupped his squished face. "Tell your daddy it turns out most people do not appreciate it when their floral arrangements up and run away, regardless of how suitably poignant the allegory is for a funeral."

"It's Daisy." He then transitioned the topic with barely a pause of breath, raising his gaze to meet the fiend's. They both had a soft spot for their dogs and their critters, if Daisy even still counted as anything dog-adjacent. An uneasiness assailed Gulliver's eyes and just a little bit of... sheepishness, was it? "She seems to have... ah..." He waved a hand around vaguely, as if fighting to find an appropriate word. "... escaped? Wandered off? She is presently not in my shop's substructure." His eyes broke contact and trailed off to the side momentarily. Oh yes, it was definitely sheepishness. "In her current state it could be very... troublesome if anyone were to get close enough to get a good look at her."

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

Gulliver's clothes-clutching surprise never fails to make Bunnie's eyes glitter with amusement, and a nasal little laugh escapes from him as he smooths the fur on Iblis' head.

"Has it been so long, Rabbit, that you've already forgotten how I detest being startled?" the poor man said, voice clean-cut as a shard of flint, before becoming instantly enamoured by Mephistos' presence.

Mephistos releases a delighted boof! at having his face squished. Bunnie's smile sweetens, just slightly, and he leans away from the shelf to step around Iblis and reach the counter, adjusting a shifted book or two and rubbing the fingers of one hand together as though he seeks something.

"Oh, it wasn't as bad a funeral as you make it out to be, Seagull. They didn't get far, after all!" he laughs again, picking up a figure of a jet black minotaur to place closer to the front.

He returns his ice-blue gaze to Gulliver, pupils plafully growing wider, before the man's next words hit him.

"It's Daisy."

Bunnie isn't one to be worried, not typically, but Gulliver rarely said "Daisy" in such a tone. He perks up at the man, focusing on him intently.

"She seems to have... ah..."

Please do tell me she has learned to backflip.

"... escaped? Wandered off? She is presently not in my shop's substructure."

Bunnie's heart, what of it that pumped and beat and reddened his flesh, dropped low. Gulliver's gaze slid away from him, and he tilted his head to one side to try to recapture it. It had been a little while since he had physically seen Daisy, to know what was to be expected...

"In her current state it could be very... troublesome if anyone were to get close enough to get a good look at her."

True, honest-to-whatever-being-one-prayed-to favours weren't a thing Bunnie doled out lightly. And for Gulliver, Daisy was no joking matter. Bunnie glances up at Scratch, and after a second, takes a few swift little strides back to his office. He returns a mere minute later, shutting up the doors with his topcoat on, the faint bulges of equipage underneath, and a pair of leads thrown over one shoulder for each of the dogs.

"If we hurry back, she may not be far."

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

The funeral had been chaos. The two saving graces had been that the person that the funeral was for was not particularly well-liked, and that nobody thought Gulliver to be the sort to purposely sabotage a funeral. He was known to take such events with the utmost respect and sobriety, regardless of the reputation of those involved. It ended with the majority of attendees assuming one of the numerous people who hated the man in the casket had bewitched the flowers to make one last mockery of their rival.

The speed at which Bunnie turned and readied himself, wordlessly agreeing to come to his assistance, was almost more startling to Gulliver than his (successful) attempt to sneak up on the half-fae. Gulliver actually stared at him, somewhat dumbly, for a spell with his bright, sterling eyes. He had expected some feet dragging, some trouble, some teasing. Some resistance to being dragged out and made to do something rather inconvenient. Some talk of compensation up front. And maybe that was all still underway.

Regardless, Gulliver found himself quite thankful and perhaps feeling a little blessed to have the fiend on his short list of friends.

"Right... Yes. Of course." He stammered, clearly thrown off by the gesture, before he spun about with the nearly gossamer fabric of his jacket sworling with him, and hurried for the door.

"I was an idiot," he then started to explain. Self-deprecation was not a usual habit for him in private, but he was distressed by the fact that he had, indeed, been an idiot and it had come with consequences. "I did that... thing I do sometimes. Where I put something important off because I feel there's no immediately dire need for it?" That is called procrastination, Gull. And everyone does it. Just maybe not... as badly as you do, sometimes. "And I didn't get around to putting a new tracking charm on Daisy's current vessel. She's never gotten out before."

The half-fae was several strides down the alley before he thought to slow his step with a glance over his shoulder. His legs were quite a bit longer than the fiend's, after all, and it would be a bit pointless to leave his assistance behind.

"A back-alley stabbing victim." He stated it as if those words alone meant anything and it took the vague and ambiguous man perhaps a moment sorely too long to realize he needed to elaborate. "Daisy's vessel, I mean. She's quite clumsy with it..."

Bunnie Beiderbecke

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

In the time it took for Gulliver to stare, dumbfounded, Bunnie had managed to snare the endlessly bounding and excited dogs in their leads, snuffling and baying and calling as though the rapture had come and they were the saints of honour. A hefty black leather collar, runed and spiked with satiny silver and iron for Mephistos as one might put upon a hunting dog, and a far more tame, runed and polished red leather for Iblis, both of which Bunnie handled with great care.

It wouldn't be ideal if some of the lowly fools thought they could target his dogs, after all. He'd have to see about something for Gulliver's Daisy. It might keep this silly hiccup from happening again, but only if the man even remembered it, apt to spells of daydreaming as he was.

"Right... Yes, of course." he finally drolled out, still awestruck by his efficiency. Bunnie grins in response, again the cat that had the canary.

Bunnie chokes up on the leads, wrapped to be released quickly on a whim, but for now to keep the dogs by his heel, and follows him out. He pauses to lock the door up and stroke the sideboard with his finger thrice, a dark hum on his lips, hearing Gulliver's swift footsteps moving away behind him. He turns around.

"The quicker, the better, Mukil, or-"

Ooh, the spider-legged little...!

Bunnie hurries across the front of the building to the corner after the man's mildly echoing voice, "I was an idiot," he began, "I did that... thing I do sometimes. Where I put something important off because I feel there's no immediately dire need for it?"

"Mph."

"And I didn't get around to putting a new tracking charm on Daisy's current vessel. She's never gotten out before."

"I was locking the door, Mukil."

Bunnie barely catches up, dogs panting excitedly at his hip, as Gulliver turns around to check for him. He raises an eyebrow in silent response.

"A back-alley stabbing victim."

Aaah. Well, no wonder.

"Daisy's vessel, I mean. She's quite clumsy with it..."

A wry twist comes to Bunnie's lips, exacerbating his already devilish expression. The dogs whine as if on cue.

"We're all a little clumsy with our vessels when we aren't used to them, when they aren't quite right for us, yes? I recall my first true strides, how they burned. Before our time as we know it... Now." His voice lacks judgement of the choice in Daisy's vessel, nor does he dispute human bodies in general. Merely the cadence of seeming knowledge on the "rightness" of a container. He clears his throat of the memory quietly.

"What is her description, and do you have anything that smells of her?"

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

It was at least a better name than some of the other ones that the fiend had for him, some of them very obviously existing just to get a reaction out of the half-fae. Even if it were used derisively, Gulliver liked to take it to imply grace, composure, and beauty. Though pure vanity was not quite a trait that he held, he certainly did have an appreciation for himself. It would be rather backwards for him to put so much effort into his own longevity if he did not. He liked Mukil.

"I see..." He said slowly, not actually having anything biting immediately to say to Bunnie's case for not being right on his heels. In fact, he even bothered to look a little sheepish about it. The man was certainly out of sorts, and that was saying something for someone who generally had their head in the clouds (or in their flowers, as it were).

He walked backwards a few steps, keeping his eyes on the fiend (as though he might change his mind and head right back into his shop) up until he turned fully back around to resume his hustle down the alley. At a more five-foot-four-fiend-appropriate pace. The direction implied he was heading back towards his own flower shop, where Daisy had been living in the understructure.

"You certainly picked a..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder to give the fiend a pointed look over. "... petite one." In regards to vessels, uncaring if it had actually been a choice or not. Gulliver's sense of humor just sucked sometimes.

"Ah. She is perhaps slightly shorter than myself? Though, she hasn't managed to stand upright with the body... More sort of... lumbering around and bumping into things..." He started listing off details, happy to ramble, about the appearance of Daisy's vessel as they walked, the hard heel of his boots barely a tap on the cobbles with the delicate, weightless way he carried his wispy form. "Darker olive skin. I've tended to her recently, so it shouldn't have greyed. Choppy, straw hair. The man likely cut it himself. I'd put her in a clean tunic. Powder blue." Because of course he couldn't leave Daisy wearing rags.

"I can fetch something of hers from the shop... It is where we'll likely want to start, anyways. And... thank you, Bunnie."

Bunnie Beiderbecke

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

Gulliver's slow, perhaps even surprised response elicits a little eyeroll from Bunnie, and the few backwards strides another, far more dramatic roll of the head, as though he might rest himself across the backs of the dogs. Nevertheless, he keeps walking until they're in stride together.

Gods above, Devils below, you really are out of it. I could get twice the rate from you if I really wanted.

The dogs give a bounce as they realize what direction they're going, the taste of flowers already upon their tongues, as though they hadn't finished a meal moments before Gulliver had arrived, and needed to try their damnedest to gorge themselves on the things.

"You certainly picked a... petite one."

You call that a jibe?!

Bunnie bursts out cackling, like exotic birds in a petshop window, and stops dead in his tracks to keep from toppling over backwards. The dogs bay and whine in response, tongues lolling happily at Gulliver.

He straightens up again, and with a few little wheezing noises he wouldn't admit to making, continues to follow Gulliver, adjusting the collar of his doublet with glittering eyes.

"You are one to talk, stem-thin with a hemlock on top." Bunnie retorts, gesturing to Gulliver's soft white hair, then places the hand upon his own hip.

Bunnie sobers up his expression minutely to listen to Gulliver's description of Daisy. Middling height, olive skin, straw yellow hair, powder blue tunic, probably one of Gulliver's own if Bunnie would hazard to guess. It was yet another thing Bunnie appreciated about the man. If nothing else, he did care deeply about his pets. That there were other humans that didn't simply fueled the fires of the Nine Hells within Bunnie. More fodder, they were. Their pain for the pain of others.

"I can fetch something of hers from the shop... It is where we'll likely want to start, anyways. And... thank you, Bunnie."

Bunnie turns his head to look directly at Gulliver, a softer little twitch to his lips betraying more genuine nature from the Fiend than his typical wide-mouthed grins. Immoral and cruel didn't always walk hand-in-hand within him.

"Thank me after we've found your Daisy. You'll have more time for it then."

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Gulliver wasn't usually the sort to insult with blatant venom or to try to land any hard-hitting verbal blows. He was content with pokes and prods, subtle suggestions, and backhanded commentary. His favorite brand of humor was the sort after which he could feign innocence and ignorance of his wrongdoing. It delighted him, though, that such mild efforts could elicit such genuine amusement from the fiend. He even puffed a little laugh of his own, gaunt shoulders trembling slightly with the effort.

Once their midnight walk resumed, he tilted his head to the side at Bunnie's retort to toss him a lazy, half-assed grin that for the time-being was his only response to the shot taken back. He would sit on that one a moment. Besides, as easily as banter came to the two of them, the situation at hand had most of his head twisted up with it. He would bounce between his desire for repartee and then getting wound back into his worry.

"More time..?" He restated with a curious lilt to his tone as they at last approached the door to his shop. Many of his more notable and wealthy patrons frequently had on their tongues questions about 'Why don't you move to the Inner City?' 'We would welcome you!' 'The perfect spot just opened up, would you like me to look into it for you?' He was content right where he was in the Outer City, however, even though he could afford to be elsewhere.

"Exactly what-..." His key was out and primed to go into the lock, but he paused to think really long and hard on whether he had actually remembered to even lock the door before leaving. A gentle push of his hand followed by the soft creak of the sturdy wooden door confirmed that, no, he had not remembered to lock it. Well then. "... Exactly what manner of 'thanking' is it we had in mind now?"

The long fingers of his hand pushed the door the rest of the way open and he stepped aside to allow Bunnie entry. Not that there was any particular reason to be shepherding him in like a treasured guest, but the action was polite habit.

"... Hemlock, though?" Ah, he was finally back to that. "Would I really be something so... caustic? You do know it causes vomiting and convulsions..?"

For a moment it seemed like he was going to leave it at that as he followed the fiend and the two hounds into the flower-swarmed shop. He did not leave it at that, of course, after a short pause to mull over his floral identity. "Why not... Bishops flower? It looks nearly the same, and it even has a little skirt. And the roots, you know... they are essentially a wild carrot. Very edible... Or a dandelion. They're quite fluffy, at least once they are done being yellow. And then a little breath and off they scatter into the wind... I find them very whimsical. That suits me, don't you think?"

Oh yes, you are so full of whimsy, Gulliver.

Bunnie Beiderbecke

 

[Bunnie Beiderbecke]

Bunnie's amusement rang on silently all the way to the door of the shop, and was finally bookended with Gulliver's "... Exactly what manner of 'thanking' is it we had in mind now?" which elicits a silent, assuaging smile from the little Fiend.

The man's umbrage with his hair being called a hemlock, however, adds a new layer. Bunnie lets out a much quieter laugh, no less squawking but certainly less drawing of attention, as he enters the building.

The shop's scent hits Bunnie's nose with the knock-you-down effervescence of an overgrown greenhouse. It was more or less what the place looked like anyway, with the sheer quantity of plants packed into the space and the large, beautiful windows that let all manner of light spill inside. The moonshadows tossed about the room from the columns between the windows and from all of the plants, and danced before Bunnie's eyes tantalizingly. He resists the urge to make a show of it for the sake of the poor man behind him.

Hm.

"I thought Bishop'sweed was in the same sort of family as Hemlock. I find them both a perfectly lovely vase addition, but making someone that is troubling me projectile vomit upon ingestion of the latter is a perk."

Mephistos begins snuffling about, making a chuffing noise, and Bunnie gives a bit more lead to allow the dog to weave closer to a large, bushy specimen, much like the dog itself, Bunnie's eye tracking to make sure the beast doesn't eat more than a little of it. A continually amused huff of air leaves him when Gulliver speaks of whimsical flowers.

"Just don't let anyone blow you away so easily, Dandelion. We have to get your dog back safe and mostly sound first."

And I'd hate to see you go.

Iblis prances up on it's hind legs, a little whine escaping it's maw towards Gulliver, shiny little eyes and cocked head practically begging of him, "Where now, friend-of-leader?"

Bunnie looks around the room properly, eyes settling on a wonderful, squat little Rhododendron bonsai, blooming away proudly on a table, before sliding his gaze back to Gulliver expectantly. His expression grows a little softer in the safety of the shadows.

---

Gulliver Ingold

 

[Gulliver Ingold]

Even in the middle of a high tension and stressful situation, home was home. Being surrounded by familiarity and the products of his work and passion brought a peaceful feeling to the fair-haired man. Serenity and belonging. Particularly at this time of night, when the light of the moons crept in and charged the atmosphere with a sense that very much complimented the silvery, unworldly half-fae. He often felt like he existed in the time trapped between a moon-cast shadow and its sterling glow.

"It is related to hemlock," he affirmed approvingly, always pleased whenever anybody had a modicum of knowledge on his favorite subject. "As is celery and parsley. Hemlock still makes poor vase décor, however, I am afraid. It's sap causes blisters and when it dries it makes a caustic... dust. Unpleasant to inhale."

Brushing past his guests, Gulliver paused to push a potted plant closer to the obviously still starving Mephistos. It was a better choice than what he had been reaching for and far friendlier on the canine belly. With a gentle pat on his head, he carried on into the back room of his shop where he had folded up Daisy's favorite blanket. He gathered the lumpy sheet of cloth in his arms and returned to the front with a playful sort of smile curling at his lips.

"Ah, there's no need to worry, there. I don't think I'd be so easily blown away by any single person. It'd certainly take something a bit more... momentous."

He offered the blanket to Bunnie, the fabric made up of woven knots of cream and blue wool. It wasn't filthy by any means, as Gulliver would not allow it to be, but it was still old and it was still very much owned by a dog. A dog that was frequently not very dog-shaped and wasn't quite sure how to dog any more.

"Will this suffice?" As he asked he leaned over to pay Iblis the attention he so clearly deserved, cupping his face and giving his ears a good flop.

Bunnie Beiderbecke