Day 42: Mountain Antiques [Evening]

[clockmongler]

Truth be told, Luxord wasn't particularly worried about Mr. Tim or anyone else that might have wished to seek revenge against his actions if their cover was blown; Grell had every right to toss off his disguise if he wanted to and X was not about to stop him. What he was concerned about, however, was this date turning worse than it already had.

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[clockmongler]

X nodded his head with a little smile and proceeded to open the door for the lady (of course, it could also simply be interpreted as being polite to someone with their hands full), then following her in.

There was something about antique shops that, regardless of the lighting, always managed to feel... dark, he supposed. Very rarely were there windows about, and those that were present remained on the far ends of the building, away from all the little "treasures" strewn here and there. Shelves took up most of the space, towering above, giving the impression that you were much smaller than you were, and weaving around as though it were a maze lined in old junk. It always rang true, regardless of which one he entered (out of curiousity, mind you. What each world regarded as antiques was always fascinating to him).

They all reminded him of Wonderland, which may explain the smirk growing on his face. Grell could consider himself lucky that he was in no mood to be practicing stealth between the aisles.

He casually ran a hand from the god's shoulder to his wrist, speaking in a whisper as he eyed a nearby grandfather clock (he wanted it. Dear lord, he wanted it so badly, it was impressive that he didn't find what strength he had in himself to lift the thing over his shoulder and proceed to walk calmly out of the shop with it. It was reminding him of that sour deal with Lelouch and how much that failed. Argh, he wanted a clock! Not that he would fall victim to Lamperouge's deal, because what was the point of giving information without being for certain that he would live to get his prize? It was all so very headache inducing. He wanted this clock.). "Tell me if you find something you like."

[deadlyjuliet]

The door opened, Grell stepped through and once he was certain the shelves would hide him, he dropped the act altogether. A sharp smile spread across his lips and he shifted his weight slightly back, jaunting one hip to the side to balance the box on it. What a delightful little store this was - filled with the sorts of trinkets and baubles one would expect to find in a wonder cabinent. Sadly, no shrunken heads. Those were always morbidly amusing.

And somewhere a steady rhythm of ticking, a cacophony of different sounds, so many clocks moving together, but faintly, somewhere not in this room. Grell couldn't help but notice Luxord's gaze move toward the grandfather clock as his hand slipped from Grell's shoulder to his wrist. "I shall do just that. Seems like this is your element, isn't it?"

Slipping away, Grell pulled his hair from the ponytail and turned up one of the aisles, leaning over to inspect the pieces crammed into every nook and cranny. Candlesticks, teacups, spoons, lace handkerchiefs and gloves, snuff boxes, silver trinkets - all of these things were oddly familiar. These 'antiques' were things he saw everyday back home. Blown glass bottles that once held perfumes and scents were cluttered up into a small tin and Grell smiled, touching the stoppers. It was enough to make the death god nostalgic, which was annoying and yet, comforting. "Such a strange place to find the familiar, and yet here they are..."

[clockmongler]

"Yes..." He sounded as if he were hypnotized, completely entranced by that mesmerizing ticking. Just as Grell wandered on his own, Luxord did much of the same, following that sound, weaving through the aisles to find the source.

Oh. Oh my.

There were so many clocks. Not so many as, say, a clock store, but after being deprived for so long, this place was a miracle in itself to the Nobody. Was this... love? Was this what love was supposed to feel like? It was a foreign memory, but it was there, lingering in the back of his mind as he examined the items before him, ghosting his hands over their faces with more affection and understanding than he managed to show anything else in the past four years. They were so... so magnificent, so wonderful! So beautiful!

He wanted to stay here. Why couldn't they imprison him here? He'd be much more comfortable, in any case. He wouldn't fight them. They could encase him in a bubble within this aisle of the antique shop, in the middle of this nowhere town, forgotten and alone for the rest of eternity and he would not say a single, solitary word, just so long as he was here. Seeing how much the staff took pleasure when he kept his mouth shut, they might even consider it if he brought it up. He should bring it up. At least to Stegman. Stegman would enjoy him being somewhere far, far, away from him and wouldn't mind in the least if he stayed here for the rest of forever.

Yes. Yes, that would be a fine plan. In the meantime, he would take immense pleasure in being right here. Grell, Celes, Lamperouge, Brainiac, Tim, Xigbar, even Tyche and Naminé--all were forgotten in that one, blissful moment.

Sigh.

[deadlyjuliet]

Luxord's voice sounded distant and when Grell looked up from the shelf, noticing that the man was gone somewhere. He was still in the shop, but had gone off on his lonesome. Perhaps it had something to do with that ticking sound? He'd moved off in that direction at least.

Running his hand along the tops of the bottles, causing them to clink softly against one another, Grell moved further down the aisle. The smell of this place reminded him far too much of home, although the cluttered nature of it was more like the file rooms at Headquarters. Perhaps 'cluttered' was the wrong word. There was just so much to house that the rows upon rows of Records and Lists and paperwork and files and whatever else was stored there looked immense and rather terrifying to someone unaccustomed to the sight. All the people they had ever reaped, all their records, their laments and furies, joys and sorrows, all of it, packed away, noted and cataloged. Ironic, that life should end like that - as just another card in the cosmic filing drawer.

Rounding the corner, Grell slipped a wide-brimmed hat from a rack and dropped it on his head, not caring if the owner noticed him. He liked this place, and liked the effect it seemed to have on Luxord. Creeping up behind him, Grell set his present down on a nearby table and slipped his arms around the man's neck. "Like what you see, darling?"

[clockmongler]

That dreamy reprieve ended as Grell snaked his arms around the Gambler, but he didn't seem upset with it. In fact, he remained rather pleased, laughing warmly at the other man's antics.

Obviously, there was a lesson to be learned here that could be explained in a simple formula:

Luxord's false joy = j. j ≥ t (or the amount of time related instruments or time related discussions in the room with him at any given time). j inversely affects h (or his desire to be horrible to everyone around him), meaning that the lower j was, the higher h reached and vice versa. Therefore, if there were many clocks in the room, as there were at this very moment, h was currently at a surprising low.

"You look wonderful, my dear." It was said with a smile and a soft kiss on the God's cheek. What could he say? He was feeling particularly amicable at the moment.

[deadlyjuliet]

"Well, well, aren't you in a pleasant mood," Grell purred back, taking a look at what was likely the source of Luxord's happiness. Lined up on the walls and in cases were clocks and watches of various shapes and sizes. Raising an eyebrow, Grell tightened his grip a little and then let go, slipping away. He couldn't lean on the man like he wished, considering he was injured. The last thing Grell needed was to knock him over and cause a ruckus.

But clocks? Again. Just like when they first entered the store and Luxord's gaze had gone to the grandfather clock, now he was standing here where there were nothing but clocks. It was an odd sort of fascination, but what was Grell to say about one man's quirks? Stepping forward, Grell went up to a particular ornate one and peered at it. The sound of the clocks ticking was amusing. It reminded him of the steady flow of time, something he himself had been separate from up until a few days ago. Unstoppable time, moving forward, counting down the days until a man's life ran out. Reaching up, he ran his hand lightly across the face of it and smiled. "So this is what has you so entranced, is it?"

[clockmongler]

Ah, Grell had pulled himself away. Understandable, considering they were both injured, but X really didn't mind at the moment. If they broke something, there was a slight chance they could keep it, yes? There was a particular little golden pocketwatch he had his eyes on, though it was locked behind a glass case...

Sadly, the owner was nowhere in sight. Operation: Epic Pouting Maneuver would have to wait for now.

"It is my element, after all, being the Gambler of Fate." Had he not told Grell of his powers? How strange. Normally, that was the first thing he mentioned when expositoring about himself. Perhaps he was getting rusty. "You of all people should know how torturous it is to be without your gifts, without being able to see the world as you once could. I'd not seen a clock in so long..." He sighed, hands pressed against the glass case as he stared lovingly (or as close as he got to it) at that golden pocketwatch. "It is reassuring to be around them once again. To know that, no matter what they steal from me, Time will always exist."

[deadlyjuliet]

Grell glanced over his shoulder and noticed Luxord's glance at the same time he noticed someone else entering the store. Perhaps they'd provide a nice little distraction so he might be able to slip one of these little trinkets out and for his date. The man seemed adept at slight of hand himself, so if he could just give him enough time (haha, time) then Luxord could have himself what he truly wanted.

Grell sidled over to Luxord and smiled, rubbing up against him slightly. "I do believe you've mentioned them before, yes, but I never thought it was so...literal." It was cute how infatuated he was with the clocks. It reminded Grell of his own love for his scythe, his darling tool and the source of his greatest power. The ability to kill with skill and grace and beauty - there was nothing more splendid than the arc of blood that came with the rotation of his chainsaw. "And Time cannot be stolen from you, love. I'll make sure of that. But, as for stealing Time? Shall I... keep the owner distracted for a bit?"