There had been a time when Walter had prided himself on being "street smart." Knowing how to survive independently, how to take advantage of others without being taken advantage of himself. It was a brutal, spartan life. That had all changed on his becoming, of all things, a butler. Suddenly Walter was expected to discard rags for restrictive formal apparel, bathe regularly even when he wasn't coated in sick or soot. He'd learned the intricacies of fine dining, far beyond his usual roasted rat, as well. How to greet others respectably, to train himself to actually smile at people. Walter had evolved from gutter urchin to formal aristocracy. And through it all, he had not once bothered to learn the difference between horses breeds.
A waste of time, young Walter had thought.
Neobullseye said:
Apparently he did 'hear' her final question, though he purposefully misunderstood it, instead going on to 'introduce' his horses to them. "I see," Alicia nodded, not believing a word of what the guy was saying, but knowing better than to make this obvious to him. She sensed that the guy was annoyed enough as it was already; no need to tick him off even more. "Nice names. They look healthy too. What breed are these, if I might ask?," she attempted some small-talk. It was obvious the man was hiding something and trying to send signals to someone nearby; with a bit of luck, she could figure out who and where said other party was. Of course, this did require the man to talk some more...
The bird still seemed keen on her interrogation, perhaps she had even picked up on the fact horses Belfry and Charles were, in fact, not his own. Though in all honesty, they may as well belong to Walter now given the particular state of being their owner prior was now in.
Curiously enough, there did seem to be a change in aura about the Avian. A shift from readied aggression to… well, still aggressive really, but more akin to skepticism over preparation for mortal combat. All the same, Walter had no intention of dropping the act of doddering.
"Dear me, madam, you are too kind," Walter said, rotating his right hand into flourishing in lieu of a proper bow. What with his oh, so aching back and all.
"Truly, these handsome steeds are the greatest of breeds, no matter their humble origins. Why, I say, sometimes it feels like they're the ones taking care of me! Whoa-ho-ho!" Hm, thinking on it, there's quite a bit of truth to that statement, eh? Walter thought.
Quite, quite.
Turtle Knight said:
Continuing his approach Calder waved off the thought of taking the man's hard won water and sent a trail of his magic down into the well. Setting up his water bags, Calder opened them and waited. In less than minute the water was trailing out of the well and into the bags unaided.
"I appreciate the thought, but I think I can manage well enough," his voice was kind of raspy as he spoke, but it was nothing a nice cool drink wouldn't fix.
The bags were full in no time and Calder rerouted the stream, opening his mouth he took several long pulls of water from the air and then splashed about a bit, getting himself thoroughly wet in the process. It felt nice to have the water running over his skin again, but once he was done he dropped the magic and the water into the well.
Listening to the man, Calder realized they were heading the same way. They would be co-patriots on the road and likely to see each other over and over again. The fins on his brow ridge quirked and a small grin pulled up the corners of his mouth.
"Iblea, huh? What a coincidence, that's exactly where we're headed. I don't doubt we'd see each other on the road again. Why don't we take the time now to become acclimated to each others presence to alleviate future tensions." He chose his words carefully and with purpose, and his gaze flicked over to Alicia as he spoke. The couldn't just be going around antagonizing every person they met, especially people they were likely to encounter again. "It's nearly time for lunch, so what do you say we all have a seat and get to know each other before making some critical assumptions."
Walter turned his head to side and eyed the Aquan man sidelong.
"Say chap, I do believe there's a mite of confusion in the air. I myself, you see, was travelling south-west to Iblea City along this very route." A cheeky grin curled underneath his long moustache.
"My, my. Seems someone has gotten lost and walked right past it, hah-hah!"
Was Walter lost? Yes.
Did Walter know basic directions? Also yes.
As long as he were to keep travelling South-West, he would most certainly arrive in Iblea City. But alas, this poor fishman; could hardly even tell which way was North in his hotly de-liquified atmosphere. Really, perhaps the Aquan should have reconsidered Walter's offering of water. Then again, none of this said much for the Aquan's companions. He could hardly believe it. Six different people all coalescing toward the same wrong direction. Sheep mentality at its finest, Walter supposed.
And speaking of destinations, it was high time for him to get a move on and collect Dust. While this journeying party, in all honesty, seemed to be of the amicable sort -- well, perhaps not the most amicable, not all of them, but he no longer felt concerned over the score of their being a bandit group -- but Iblea would be just around the bend and he and Dust would be altogether safer in more urban environs.
When the Aquan mentioned lunch, Walter attempted to wave it.
"Truly the offer is most appreciated, believe you me. But it's less a case of my willing, as it is-"
Majem said:
"We might happen across some plants that could make a soothing paste or tea until we make it to Iblea. But for now lunch sounds pleasant. Some rest and food might fix that ache right away." He continued, stashing the book away again. Then, true to his promise, Corvus approached the water containers and picked one up without any notable effort. "Now, where would you like this one? My name is Corvus Clemmons, by the way. Nice to meet you."
Tea.
Tea…
Walter gulped.
Well, just a momentary respite wouldn't hurt- Ah, no you fool! Have you already forgotten Dust, you pitifully worthless caretaker?!
… To be fair. They don't appear hostile or anything of the sort, not really.
Ah yes. Quite, quite. You'll just be having tea on the roadside all pish posh while she remains secreted away in the brush! Truly, sir, your unfathomable brilliance pushes the boundaries of modern intellect to be sure! Augh, dimwitted oaf.
Walter refocused his attention to the corporeal world on the Crow-Giant speaking up once more.
"Now where would you like this one?" He asked, handedly lifting the topped off jug of water as though it were no more than teddy bear.
Why on Altera does my mind continue to proffer images of children's stuffed bears around this gent… "My name is Corvus Clemmons, by the way. Nice to meet you."
Walter needed a moment to pull himself together, far too many thoughts racing, not to mention this blasted heat. The air was still warm even despite his being under the well's shaded canopy. Talks of misdirection, a luncheon with strangers, tea. He almost forgot he'd been faking a back injury this whole time, and bit down on the impulse to return to an upright posture. Yet, funnily enough, his back actually was starting to ache from all this bending over.
"Ah… ahem. Yes. Quite, quite. Well, Mister Clemmons, just to the back of the wagon would be most appreciative! In fact, I-"
An Otaku said:
. . . Dust clenched her teeth tightly, left eye spasming, and raised her legs from their lowered position. Careful to keep from poking her head above the grass, Dust lowered her back and crept after the huntress. Her arms, outstretched for balance to keep Dust from kissing the dirt, kept getting caught in the long grass blades. She winced with every ruffle but kept on. The fleeting back of the huntress locked in her sight, as the girl stealthily blundered through the brush. For a moment, Dust thought she had heard something behind her but chalked it up to her own bumbling.
It occurred to Dust that she had no idea what to do if this huntress tried anything… dastardly. This thought was immediately replaced with a stifled yelp when a caught grass blade snared one of her hooves. And sent the hooded girl crashing into the back of the Terran woman.
A stabbing pain lept through his chest as the feeling of his heart slamming against his ribcage repeated in high frequency. Walter's shaky laughter masking genuine, physical pain as his spasming eye traced the sound of bumbling from within the brush's edge. There, sitting amid the grass and weed stalks, was a wide-eyed Dust. And in front of her was another Terran woman -- one hand firmly gripping Dust's arm, the other carrying a bow.
The woman's mouth was moving but all sound escaped Walter in that moment. There was only Dust, and the Terran holding her down, whispering something.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha!" His cracking, near silent voice losing further laughter while barely above the sound of a whisper.
"So that's where you'd run off to...! Why, you were starting to worry your uncle there, young lady."
Blood was escaping one of Dust's clenched palms.
In a moment, his eye flashed all around to capture his precise location. Clemmons, Fishy, and the sword-belted woman were near enough to witness this scene within the brush yet seemed potentially unable to view Dust and the other from their positions. The others hanging back from the well may not have even heard the crash to begin with.
If worse came to worst, it would all rely on his ability to act swiftly.
Rising to a proper standing position with a groan, spine making all sorts of pops and clicks, he extended his right arm toward the pair within the grass. As the concealed chains underneath his sleeve primed for a rapid launch, to spear through the Terran huntress's vital organs, Walter had a peculiar out-of-body experience.
He could see himself leaning forward to the tall grass, stretching out an arm as if to help someone whom had fallen. Followed swiftly by a flurry of reeling chains shooting forth into the brush, and fire swelling into an explosive inferno back in the road's center.
It had been some time since he'd last taken a life. Perhaps he'd grown too old, as well. But he was not about to let this young girl be harmed. Though his chances of success were slim, Walter refused to let anyone here escape if even a single person was responsible for wounding Dust. But, for now, the old man simply stood there with an out-raised glove...
* * *
AnimeLover_Princess said:
Zito had heard the girl's initial indecive moves and the slight sound of pain, but she paid her no mind, the girl must have hurt herself, and she was not Zito's problem right now. she kept moving, slowly and quietly. trying to keep stalk of her surroundings though there was now someone else tromping through the grass towards them as well.
she held back a sigh when she heard the girl following her. she was obviously trying to be stealthy but the girl sounded quite clumsy. she was still getting rather close though, and Zito considered putting on speed to get ahead of the girl again, and of course at that moment the girl yelped and slammed into her back. the terran woman threw out her hands to catch herself, and subsequently the girl and let out a frustrated noise, extricating herself from under the girl and turning on her "do you not understand the concept of stealth?" she let out a huff and looked at the girl "are you alright? did you hurt yourself?" she looked her over, could see a bit of blood on her hand "did you cut your hand? clumsy people should not attempt stealth, it rarely ends well." she glanced to the side, to try and get her bearings again, she could hear the conversation, as well as whoever was moving through the grass, which was likely some member of her party.
"Oof!" Dust yelped.
Her inward recoil at the promise of pain as she fell forward was left hanging as the fell never came. The huntress before her catching Dust while giving a disapproving stare with luminescent blue eyes that just as quickly changed to a look of concern. Then back again to disapproval.
When the woman asked about Dust's cut palm, Dust was taken aback with just how young the huntress looked. She hadn't noticed before, but. Were they the same age? Though almost as small as herself, the huntress was certainly far stronger given how easily she had steadied both of them.
The same age… I. I can't even walk right, but she… Dust's own icey blue eyes shimmered with tears that were quickly and effectively batted away, though she still cast her own gaze downward, unable to look at another face to face.
Is-is she what I could've been? If I wasn't so, if I wasn't a…. If I wasn't me?
Realizing now wasn't the time nor the place for another pity party, Dust rose her head but kept her eyes lowered.
"I'm ah, no. I'm fine…. But you can't. I, you can't just…" You can't just hide out here, weapon drawn, and expect me to stay away! Mister Garret is out there keeping me away from bandits. Or, well. Maybe they aren't bandits, but that doesn't matter. I won't let you hurt Mister Garret! That's what she wanted to say, but it was easier thought than said.
Instead, the girl awkwardly fumbled over her own tongue, repeating nonsensical words and phrases to the point even she had no idea what she was talking about. And then Dust almost jumped straight out of the grass.
The distinctive sound of Mister Garret chuckling. Though, there was a strangely lowered pitch to his voice that, for reasons she couldn't explain, almost made Dust's eyes tear up again.
"So that's where you'd run off to...! Why, you were starting to worry your uncle there, young lady."
Just through the ends of the tall grass, Dust could just barely see the old man and a few others milling about. There was another male voice she didn't recognize, rough but young, inviting whoever was in the grass --
wait, is he talking about me? -- to lunch.
I have no idea what's even happening right now.
Garret seemed fine and there was even talk of a meal. Just the thought of food made her stomach growl, eliciting a frown from Dust. She and Mister Garret had eaten not two hours ago and she was already hungry again. The benefits of leading an anxiety-inducing life, she supposed meekly.
Deciding to respond to Garret's social cue, Dust spoke up.
"Oh…. haha. I'm sorry." She blinked a few times trying to figure out what to say next, and went with just blurting out what was on her mind.
"Um, so. I met a friend out here, and like. I don't. They, I don't think they're bandits?"
Dust felt like she had just committed the most atrocious of sins with that sentence and recoiled in on herself, arms folded, mouth pursued in a scared smile, and shaky eyes flicking between the ground and Mister Garret.
"I mean, haha. What?"