mordredeschain | (no subject)

They must be getting water from somewhere.

“There is a small oasis averaging half a mile from here, sir,” explains the mayor. “It does indeed have some fish and shrimp, for special occasions.”

I believe this counts, aye?

Who is she to argue with the little red prince over what constitutes a special occasion. She smiles at the mayor and tries not to stare at his twitching whiskers.

"That would be very kind of you. Thank you."

*The mayor smiles back, then excuses himself so he can send someone fishing.*

They're not bad people, really. They just think differently--an' they obey Red Daddy despite the fact that He wants ta destroy all things, because it's what they know. *He shrugs.* These be the ones as were smart enough ta flee when He finally went screamin' insane, for what it be worth, but they don't obey me out o' fear alone.

Although everybody is being very nice to them she still feels quite wary. Perhaps it is because she is in a strange land surrounded by even stranger people. The natural Instinct is to be cautious.

"I see. shall we take a look around the town while we're waiting for the fishermen to come back? I'd like to see what there is here."

That would be fine, aye. Although I'd call it a fairly average Wild West sort o' town, aside from the species o' the locals.

Is there much in fighting. Between the species I mean? The only wild west she knows about is all from movies, and they were full of bar room brawls and gun slingers.

*He shakes his head.* Not species so much, no. Personal feuds an' ideologies be the bigger issues, an' even then a town like this has ta stick together ta survive in All-World.

You'll not find gunslingers here, either. The gunslingers are all dead now, save perhaps White Daddy, an' though we may not wish ta be o' the Red we can't help that we're everythin' Gilead was against. No, we're not gunslingers. Not even close.

"I was just thinking about gunslingers, oh right yes of course." It still takes some getting used to the fact that he can pick unspoken thoughts right out of her head.

"Well that's a good thing. I've no wish to shot at."

Edited 2018-02-12 15:20 (UTC)

Bein' shot at is never fun, I agree. *He shudders. There are memories there, it seems.*

She looks at him with surprise. "Someone shot at you? At you?"

Hume-mother an' hume-father both have shot me, aye. *He rubs at a long-healed scar along his hip.* My family be . . . not a good one, human or demon.

"Why that's, that's awful." Her brow creases with consternation. and I thought my family was messed up

I be the son o' the Crimson King, awful's ta be expected.

*As if in answer to the comment, an elderly taheen man with a bird's head lacking half the feathers walks up to them curiously.* "L-little king? L-little Red K-king? Is that you, sir?"

Yes, it's me. *He sighs.* I'm not the kind o' god as heals, ya ken. Certainly not when the disease be time.

"O-oh, I don't expect that. But the Little Red King must be fed, say true, an' I'm so very tired . . ."

*Mordred attempts to make his smile reassuring. It's not perfect, but better than nothing.* Ah, I see. Sit with us a while, then, old-timer.

It takes her a little while to cotton on to what is happening. But when she does she finds that it doesn't sit well. She says nothing for a moment, mulling over the implication, before asking the bird man's name.

"I'm Pimlo Rassi, miss. Don't worry about me; my children are gone, my grandchildren grown an' I have lived too long."

*Mordred lays a soft hand on his shoulder, feeling the brittle feathers down the neck.* Time is a face upon the water indeed in these late days. How would you wish to end?

"However you would like me. Everything aches, a bit more pain is worth it now."

I'd not add to thy pain, old one. You'll not have to endure the venom.

hey mordred, can you hear me? I don't want to break up your party but.... does this kind of thing happen often.

She's now starting to worry that the weasel mayor is going to present her with a talking fish headed man for her lunch.

Edited 2018-02-13 22:25 (UTC)

(They know what I like, that's all. They also know that humans generally don't like it, never fear.)

In All-World it can be terribly easy to see one's grandchildren die of old age. Time be broken indeed.

oh good because I don't think I could cope with having a conversation with my meal, or having it talk back to me. Even if it did seem to be bizarely up for it.

If you don't want to see him die, you don't have to. I was thinking of sending him to the kitchens anyway, they're good at making death painless.

She nods. He's right, she doesn't want to see it. This is not like the hunters who deserved it. She feels sorry for the old man. And a little bit horrified.

"Sorru. You think I'm pathetically weak for being squeamish don't you."

*It's the old man who shakes his head.* "You're just a girl. Can't help bein' young an' innocent, nor would we want thee ta do so."

Come along, old-timer. No more cruel life for thee; we shall give ya the peace o' the Clearing.

She doesn't ask what the clearing is, although it is clear that she understands the inference. She watches the old man being led away.

"I feel younger than ever here. There is so much i dont know and more still I am yet to encounter. The rules aren't just different here, they seem... broken. like any minute up could become down."

*He laughs.* Well it hasn't so far, but you never know.

"How do you cope, in a world where even the laws of gravity can't be relied on to behave themselves?"

Not very well, sai. I'm just lucky enough ta be more powerful than most. *For a moment he looks very solemn.* I could rip worlds apart iffen I chose, this one an' all connected to it, but fixin' things be much more difficult. It takes a lot o' effort ta hold it all together, so most folken live along what Beams remain.