Well, no. Not really. Redd said she shouldn't do that any more, that she was set to green. But it was a hard habit to break, stalking lonely prey. Only now, she hunted to play, not to kill.
She was a good girl now. No more vermilion skies, just green, green, green.
This one had string around his wrist. She liked string. She could do a lot of things with string, but this wasn't her string.
"Why do you have string around your wrist? You're not tied to anything," she said, then realized how unstealthy it was to speak.
Deuce half-turned toward the voice, his hand automatically finding and covering his wrist, hiding the mulengi dori. It was a foolish unthinking action, merely drawing attention to that he wished to remain unnoticed. His father would lecture. Ace would simply shake his head.
Deuce let his hands fall to his sides and offered the woman a smile, a gallant tip of his hat. "Oh, but I am tied, ma belle," he corrected. "Stronger chains you shall never find, not in this world or the next."
Alice cocked her head to the side and then shook it. He wasn't tied to anything; she'd seen both ends of the rope. Maybe he was tied to himself.
"I have more string," she offered, reaching up to untie a length of yellow yarn from her hair. "You can have it."
And with that, she tied them together by the pinkies, fingers deft and agile as she formed the knot. She grinned up at him and took his hand, wandering along down the path. "I'm Alice."
"Deuce," he offered, curling his fingers around Alice's and allowing her to lead him. There was no malice in her, only cheerfulness, simple joy. She reminded him painfully of Lala.
He looked down at their clasped hands, specifically at the bright yellow yarn tethering them. It was his fate it seemed, to be tied to a woman.
Deuce shook his head, smiling. "Have you been here long, ma mie?"
Christine was greatly enjoying being able to walk again, and as a result she had convinced Evie to go for a walk with her outside. Fresh air and sunlight was very nice indeed after so long cooped up in her room. The latter, however, was something of a bother for her friend.
"Evie, you wear sunblock, yes?" Christine asked for perhaps the third or fourth time, not wanting the redhead to burn. That wouldn't be pleasant at all!
On the subject of pleasantness... Christine could hear singing, and very nice singing at that. She didn't recognise the song, but it was cheerful, and she looked around to find the singer. It was always nice to meet other people who loved to sing.
"Yuh-yeah, yeah," Evelyn assures Christine for the thousandth time, rolling her eyes a little. She finds her concern cute, but it's also slightly obnoxious. She had remembered her sunblock, thank you very much - it's not as if she enjoys burning any more than the next person.
As they continue to walk, she perks a bit at the vaugely familiar voice she hears. Deuce? Deuce! They had spoken on the computer before, and Evelyn's good at remembering voices. Eagerly, Evelyn grabs ahold of Christine's hand and begins dragging her in the direction she's hearing his voice from. "Come on, th-this way --"
And there's Deuce! Evelyn grins. "Uhm, h-hi! We talked on the c-...communicators -- I'm Evie."
At the chime of a familiar voice, Deuce looked up, a welcoming smile spreading across his face; when it was too soon to have made any enemies it left only friends. His hat tipped and tilted, tumbling down his arm and into his hand as he gifted Evelyn and her companion with a bow. Magic so simple it could barely be called that.
"Evelyn." He took her hand and brought it up for a kiss. "You are even lovelier than I had imagined." He turned then to her friend, his smile just as warm. "Have we spoken as well, ma belle?"
Evie didn't need to do much dragging to get Christine over to her destination. The brunette was as interested in meeting Deuce as her friend was, and maybe if she saw him she'd work out why he reminded her of Ace. It was a long shot, but it wasn't as if the two of them had anything better to do - or, indeed as if she had any choice in the matter, the way Evie was pulling at her arm.
A nod was the first response to the question, and then:
"Yes, Monsieur Deuce." Christine replied, smiling shyly. "I am Christine."
Ter'thelas is leaning against the railing, staring out at that grand horizon, the sea breeze whipping the Elf's long hair around his face. Fortunately, the Sin'dorei doesn't really seem to notice that, lost in though as he is. He blinks, snapping out of his reverie when he heard someone singing. He turns his head to one side, appraising Deuce quietly for a moment.
"Pachave tut," Deuce said, nodding to the... Well now.
Deuce had seen many strange things in his life -- demons, angels, gods, and men caught in-between -- but never had he seen something like the gentleman before him. Keeping in mind Ace's warning of the long-eared man called Erol, he smiled warmly but did not offer his hand. It never hurt to be cautious.
"My thanks," he repeated, this time in English. "It helps settle my thoughts."
Ter'thelas arches one extravagant eyebrow at the strange words, but smiles when the man speaks in a language he can understand. He replies in a like manner.
"You're quite welcome. I always preferred playing the viola, myself. Alas, there aren't any to be found here."
"None at all?" Deuce asked, frowning. He thought of the mountains of luggage outside of his room. "There must be at least one, surely. What of fiddles?" Deuce winced, sheepish; his question had been sharper than he intended.
"Apologies. I am being terribly rude." He gave his hat a perfunctory tip. "Deuce is my name. May I trouble you for yours?"
Milly is perched carefully on top of the railing, her large heart wings spread wide to brace her body against the movement of the ship. She could never get used to the salty air and never-ending expanse of blue, blue water, even after being onboard for nearly two months.
Had she really been away from home that long? Away from the madness of her father and the chaotic Sky?
She heard someone singing behind her, and it was strangely soothing. Glancing over her shoulder and past her wings, Milly observed the newcomer. "Hello, there."
Deuce paused and did something very rude indeed -- he stared. His mother would have hit him with her kitchen spoon.
It wasn't curiosity or shock that made him stare, however, rather a sudden wave of homesickness. Not angel's wings or demon's wings, no, but they drew his thoughts to home nonetheless.
Deuce crossed to the railing, settling a polite distance away from the girl. "Forgive me, ma chère," he said, removing his hat. "It has been far too long since I have seen one with wings. I forgot myself."
The man's long stare was a bit embarrassing, but she could tell that it wasn't the first time he had seen someone with wings. Strange. Most of the passengers onboard had been shocked by her ability at first, and this newcomer seemed familiar with it, in a way.
And he was very handsome.
Milly smiled warmly, and fluttered her wings in response. A little flirting couldn't hurt, would it? "Oh, it's quite fine. I'm used to people staring at my heart wings here. I'm Milliarde. Are you new here?"
Deuce huffed a quiet laugh. "Va, va. I am new." He turned his head slightly, looking at the water.
It still made his heart beat much too hard, much too fast. He could not even say why it terrified him so. A nebulous hanging on some far away shore? Drowning, perhaps?
Pushing the thought away, he offered Milliarde his hand. "A pleasure. My name is Deuce."
Batou walked towards the buffet. Given that there neither he nor the Major had discovered any place to replace the plutonium pellets that powered their internal nuclear batteries, they had decided to minimize the strain on their electrical systems but supplementing the nuclear batteries with chemical energy.
In plainer speech, they ate.
Batou and the Major ate a lot, and of the most calorically dense food they could manage, in the realm of several thousand calories per day. It wasn't any real kind of replacement, but it would certainly extend the lives of their batteries.
Deuce turned slowly as he walked, brushing by as many of his fellow passengers as he could without drawing undue attention. The back of a hand, the faintest touch of a shoulder. It was a pickpocket's art, but theft was not his aim today.
He wished to know what sort of place this was. Where the people happy? Sad? Where they angry at being taken from their homes?
Touch might not have been the most pleasant way for him to gain answers, but it was certainly the quickest.
Forcibly shaking off one set of feelings while reaching for another, Deuce didn't see the large, white-haired man until he had, quite literally, walked into him.
Batou weighed several thousand pounds. He was so heavy that he was unable to use the elevators on board and he crushed virtually every piece of furniture he inflicted himself on. Deuce bounced off and he cocked his head down. Was the man blind?
Falling back, Deuce reached, his hand catching the man's arm to steady himself--
And everything went quiet. The pall of ambient emotion hanging in the air like static, the psychic residue clinging thick and sticky to his thoughts, even his own steady thrum of anxiety.
It all became quiet.
Deuce looked up at the man, not seeing or hearing, but feeling. "Devla," he whispered.
Comments 85
Well, no. Not really. Redd said she shouldn't do that any more, that she was set to green. But it was a hard habit to break, stalking lonely prey. Only now, she hunted to play, not to kill.
She was a good girl now. No more vermilion skies, just green, green, green.
This one had string around his wrist. She liked string. She could do a lot of things with string, but this wasn't her string.
"Why do you have string around your wrist? You're not tied to anything," she said, then realized how unstealthy it was to speak.
Reply
Deuce let his hands fall to his sides and offered the woman a smile, a gallant tip of his hat. "Oh, but I am tied, ma belle," he corrected. "Stronger chains you shall never find, not in this world or the next."
Reply
"I have more string," she offered, reaching up to untie a length of yellow yarn from her hair. "You can have it."
And with that, she tied them together by the pinkies, fingers deft and agile as she formed the knot. She grinned up at him and took his hand, wandering along down the path. "I'm Alice."
Reply
He looked down at their clasped hands, specifically at the bright yellow yarn tethering them. It was his fate it seemed, to be tied to a woman.
Deuce shook his head, smiling. "Have you been here long, ma mie?"
Reply
"Evie, you wear sunblock, yes?" Christine asked for perhaps the third or fourth time, not wanting the redhead to burn. That wouldn't be pleasant at all!
On the subject of pleasantness... Christine could hear singing, and very nice singing at that. She didn't recognise the song, but it was cheerful, and she looked around to find the singer. It was always nice to meet other people who loved to sing.
Reply
As they continue to walk, she perks a bit at the vaugely familiar voice she hears. Deuce? Deuce! They had spoken on the computer before, and Evelyn's good at remembering voices. Eagerly, Evelyn grabs ahold of Christine's hand and begins dragging her in the direction she's hearing his voice from. "Come on, th-this way --"
And there's Deuce! Evelyn grins. "Uhm, h-hi! We talked on the c-...communicators -- I'm Evie."
Reply
"Evelyn." He took her hand and brought it up for a kiss. "You are even lovelier than I had imagined." He turned then to her friend, his smile just as warm. "Have we spoken as well, ma belle?"
Reply
A nod was the first response to the question, and then:
"Yes, Monsieur Deuce." Christine replied, smiling shyly. "I am Christine."
Reply
"You sing very well."
Reply
Deuce had seen many strange things in his life -- demons, angels, gods, and men caught in-between -- but never had he seen something like the gentleman before him. Keeping in mind Ace's warning of the long-eared man called Erol, he smiled warmly but did not offer his hand. It never hurt to be cautious.
"My thanks," he repeated, this time in English. "It helps settle my thoughts."
Reply
"You're quite welcome. I always preferred playing the viola, myself. Alas, there aren't any to be found here."
Reply
"Apologies. I am being terribly rude." He gave his hat a perfunctory tip. "Deuce is my name. May I trouble you for yours?"
Reply
Had she really been away from home that long? Away from the madness of her father and the chaotic Sky?
She heard someone singing behind her, and it was strangely soothing. Glancing over her shoulder and past her wings, Milly observed the newcomer. "Hello, there."
Reply
It wasn't curiosity or shock that made him stare, however, rather a sudden wave of homesickness. Not angel's wings or demon's wings, no, but they drew his thoughts to home nonetheless.
Deuce crossed to the railing, settling a polite distance away from the girl. "Forgive me, ma chère," he said, removing his hat. "It has been far too long since I have seen one with wings. I forgot myself."
Reply
And he was very handsome.
Milly smiled warmly, and fluttered her wings in response. A little flirting couldn't hurt, would it? "Oh, it's quite fine. I'm used to people staring at my heart wings here. I'm Milliarde. Are you new here?"
Reply
It still made his heart beat much too hard, much too fast. He could not even say why it terrified him so. A nebulous hanging on some far away shore? Drowning, perhaps?
Pushing the thought away, he offered Milliarde his hand. "A pleasure. My name is Deuce."
Reply
In plainer speech, they ate.
Batou and the Major ate a lot, and of the most calorically dense food they could manage, in the realm of several thousand calories per day. It wasn't any real kind of replacement, but it would certainly extend the lives of their batteries.
Batou opened the door of the buffet.
Reply
He wished to know what sort of place this was. Where the people happy? Sad? Where they angry at being taken from their homes?
Touch might not have been the most pleasant way for him to gain answers, but it was certainly the quickest.
Forcibly shaking off one set of feelings while reaching for another, Deuce didn't see the large, white-haired man until he had, quite literally, walked into him.
Reply
"Be careful," Batou rumbled. "Are you injured?"
Reply
And everything went quiet. The pall of ambient emotion hanging in the air like static, the psychic residue clinging thick and sticky to his thoughts, even his own steady thrum of anxiety.
It all became quiet.
Deuce looked up at the man, not seeing or hearing, but feeling. "Devla," he whispered.
Reply
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