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TEST DRIVE MEME #4
TEST DRIVE MEME
Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket! |
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He’s also heard that every two months, on the dot, the courts sweep in a fresh set of souls. Felix recalls the Welcome Feast (if that funerary fiasco could have been considered anything near to welcoming) and he remembers the confusion, the disorder of the day. There’s no easier way to feign ignorance than for others to simply assume it of you, if he’s found wandering the grounds, he’s an excuse for his aimlessness.
And if they’ve any way to mark the unseelie by sight —
— He’ll burn that bridge when he comes to it. There’s not going to be a better chance to get a look at the court for another two moons, and his eyes are eager for the sight.
They just don’t fall upon what he was expecting.
:Gideon?: The thought stumbles out, sudden and breathless; he’d know that face anywhere, even in smoke. It’s another moment before he can collect himself, regain the slipping thread of magic that pushes the message out. :Gideon, when —?:
Excitement crowds the edge of his mind. It’s been two months since he’s seen a single familiar face, since he’s felt the familiar shape of those words in his skull. Felix pushes past an old woman with a cart, ignoring the dirty look (and shark-fanged snarl) she throws his back. He hesitates beside him, close as he can without chancing touch. There hasn't been a smile on his face like this since...well, powers, since he found the library.
"I can't believe it."
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:Felix.:
And then the context of this stumbling conversation returns to him, the knowledge that he is dead and Felix is...another figment to accompany the castle, surely. It's only right that his last thoughts might be of Felix Harrowgate; he is a fate Gideon has been grateful for, particularly when placed against the old specter of the Bastion. Even when he's furious with the man, he loves him profoundly, with a passion he occasionally wishes he had never applied to any other aspect of his life.
Or Isaac's hands found their way around Felix's throat, too. Gideon's minuscule remaining stump of tongue-flesh goes dry, as though he'll be heaving up the contents of his stomach in a moment or two.
Whatever end Felix came to, it was untimely--but not, it seems, reason for his spirits to flag. Gideon watches him with dark, suspicious eyes; this is a welcome he neither expected nor, really, deserves.
:I didn't expect to see you here.:
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:The day that I begin expecting any of this is the day that couerretenne theory begins to make a modicum of sense.:
So…the next book.Felix slips around, ringing Gideon with the slight brush of a shoulder. Gideon looks suspicious, pinched — an expression that he’s grown increasingly familiar with over the year they’ve lived together. Paranoia seems to come over him with the same deliberated steeping of his smiles. His own moods have always been such changeable, fleeting things; where Gideon stews, Felix forgets he left the burner on and lights up the kitchen. He knows that about himself, and he knows enough about Gideon not to like letting that unrest alone.Still, it’s an irritation to encounter it now, of all times. He hasn’t seen the man in a star’s age, and here’s Gideon looking at him like he’s come home with someone else’s cravat.
:I’ve missed you.:
He finally says, because what else is there to say? Felix turns back to the castle ahead, exchanging a brief glower with the fanged woman as she passes.
“Powers, we really better get up there, I don’t know when they close the gates. Come along,” He adds, with the sort of voice he uses when he wants something, but not badly enough that he’ll admit to asking. “They’ll have food -- though I wouldn't touch the wine unless you harbour some secret longing to drink fermented mud -- we can talk it over with dinner."
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A moment passes, a long one, between Felix's words and Gideon's reply. What he finally says are the words that came to mind at once, but his tone is resigned, exhausted by the admission.
:I've missed you, too.:
Leaving him was, in its way, more difficult than defecting; the Bastion's reach couldn't be escaped, ultimately, but at least he hadn't had to remain within its walls. Felix's presence in the Mirador was as much an aberration as his own, in its way, but for Gideon, they're two figures fatally entangled.
The subject changes quickly. (If Felix is a mere specter in his dying mind, he's a well-characterized one...but surely he ought to be dead by now, if this is all hallucination. Gideon hates to discount that possibility when the alternative is Felix's death, but holding onto it is unreasonable fancy.) Gideon watches Felix watch the castle and comes along when told.
:You know this place?: he asks, academic curiosity mixed with surprise. That's impossible, unless Gideon's soul went wayward on its way to this place.
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He pushes a hand through his hair as they walk, distracted. His eyes are wide and watchful, picking off each passing faerie by turn.
:— A deeper difference, and superficial similarity.:
It’s a wonderful little puzzle, but it’s the sort of riddle that delves into details he’s never had the patience to discern. That’s Gideon’s arena, the subtle contrasts of definition and purpose — and it’s that thought which reminds him to glance back over. There are more important matters in the moment.
:Really, your timing is impeccable, I only just arrived.:
The hall looms before them, bright and full of noise; shareholders and court natives mingle alike. Felix’s steps are long and weightless, he never does remember to slow down unless he’s trying, and there’s too much else to tear at his attention just now. When he waits at the threshold, it’s less for Gideon to catch up, and more to take in the sights beyond.
"They've gone to no small trouble."
If he sounds a little miffed beneath his delight, it’s not Gideon’s imagination. Caer Scima is such a drearier affair than this.
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But Felix is a more pregnable man than either of them would care to admit. And Gideon has seen him at others' mercy before.
The rest of Felix's comments are cryptic, but Gideon's attention is spread more thinly than usual. He lets them pass without comment for the moment, following Felix like a stunted shadow and glancing over their surroundings with sharp, darting eyes.
:So they have.: There's something of Gideon's usual dry humor to his reply. He's never been fit for such gatherings. :Is our attendance expected?:
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He doesn’t bother to explain, too caught-up to consider that he ought to — or that one of them may not be so unwelcome at all. Felix doesn’t understand how the courts take their division; he’s met the pleasant and the irritating in both, and talk of order grappling chaos only stretches so far when both sides fling fiercely towards war. Of course Gideon would be Unseelie, with him, and never mind how little of the circumstance supports it. They’re too much alike, aren’t they? Certainly they argue, but it always balances out. They balance each other.
:But the entire affair’s a greeting, it might as well be one for us.: Felix smirks over his shoulder to Gideon, then offers out a hand. A rare thing, and he halfway hopes he won’t take it; even if Gideon does, Felix doesn’t intend to hold on long. The gesture’s not for his own sake. :If their library’s anything like the other, you’ll adore it; we absolutely need to make a stop after.:
Gideon can help him 'borrow' books. Right?? That’s definitely what’s going to happen, because they’re both 100% on the same page in this conversation, he’s sure.
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He wants to take Felix's hand, but in the presence of the castle's residents--and worse, in a death's-land that looks nothing like the oblivion he longed for--is begging for trouble. In private, perhaps, when he finds out exactly why Felix is showing him such kindness, and when there's no one to witness the terms of their relationship.
(And perhaps after Felix gives him a reason to absolve him of the events of the last few weeks. Gideon hasn't forgiven, nor has he forgotten, and as drawn as he is to Felix, he isn't pleased with him.)
He shakes his head minutely at Felix, a silent refusal of his hand.
:I could meet you there after.: He can think of little he'd like less than to accompany Felix through plates of food and conversations, in neither of which he can take any part. Gideon doesn't envy Mildmay's place as Felix's stoop-shouldered shadow, and he won't take it. :I'll only slow you down here.:
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Felix frowns, all of Gideon’s earlier suspicion suddenly colouring his own brow.
Gideon hates publicity, and he knows how to hold a grudge, but he’s not half so good at refusing comfort. This is a real cloud, and Felix can’t think what he’s done to earn its downpour. Certainly, the circumstances could be more pleasant (hadn’t he spent most of the first night shouting at Nerdanel?) but Felix is doing his best to make them so. He can’t remember if they’d argued before he left, but he thinks things had been good. Perhaps some minor squabble fermented in his absence, or --
-- Or saints, what if something had happened to Mildmay? He’d been so sick.
:Gideon,: An intake of thought, if not breath. :What’s going on?:
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He doesn't want to have to ask this here and now, but he can read the demand in Felix's expression. Resisting the man's ephemeral desires can be a near-impossible task. Even now, after everything, part of him wants to give Felix the things he wants--the things that he should have, at least. Plenty of Felix's whims should be indulged by no one, least of all Felix Harrowgate.
:How did it happen?: he finally asks, never letting his gaze drift from Felix's. He stops walking; perhaps for him, this could be a conversation for an easy constitutional, but it isn't for Felix. :Who killed you?:
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“What?” He’s never had a face for cards, and it’s plain as day that the question’s taken him blind. Exasperation and faint amusement swim into his expression as he recomposes. “Saints, no. We’re not dead. It’s more of a headache than that.”
But — Anthony’s dead, and he’s not the only one. And why leap to murder? His hands unconsciously drift to his pockets, lingering uneasily over the rubies hidden there.
:Perhaps you should answer my question first.:
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Perhaps they haven't yet found his body; it might be some time, considering where it happened. Perhaps Felix was dragged into this half-death before he was informed. Macabre though the thoughts might seem to someone else, Gideon is curious to know how things proceeded after his part in the play was finished.
:I don't think you'll like the answer.: He watches Felix with dark, solemn eyes, wishing he could reach out for his hand. As ghosts go, however, he's all ragged edges and weary isolation, a bearer of ill news rather than a lover's touch. :And I think you can guess what it is.: