Beg Off [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-09-2019
She glanced nervously at the King, but he seemed to be playing along, tousling her hair fondly. The idea of him being her boyfriend was absurd, but she couldn't bring herself to correct Buck and wouldn't know what to say anyway. Her truth would give away the King's, and he would probably kill her if she ruined his fun. Literally. "...I was gettin' a bit worried when y'didn't come around," Ren said, finally.
"Aw, you know how it is, you find a cute guy, you settle down," he said with a wink. "Sure you can relate."
Ren was already a bit red in the face, and this wasn't helping, nor was the cheerful grin on the King's face. But she couldn't bring herself to just make an excuse and leave.
"So yer not travelin' anymore?"
"A shock, huh? Never thought I'd settle down, but I tell ya what, you meet the right guy an' ya just know."
Ren thought of Gareth's cabin and immediately regretted it. Instead, she stepped to lean against the King's side, the way she thought a girlfriend might. Or a boyfriend, she supposed. She didn't really feel the need to correct Buck on that, either. It wasn't like they'd be running into each other again, and it'd be too hard to explain.
"Grandpa Buck," she began. It was embarrassing to say this in front of the King, but she wouldn't get another chance. But the words froze in her throat. Buck's eyes turned sympathetic and affectionate, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder.
"Y'don't gotta say a thing, nephew."
"I should, though," she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "I shoulda gone with you," she said, senselessly, and felt her face heat up as she tried not to cry. "I really shoulda gone with you."
"Aw, don't say that," he said, smiling. "Things worked out, didn't they?" He gestured towards the King. "Even if it was hard in th' middle there."
Things hadn't worked out at all. Instead of saying that, she said, "Yeah, but I miss yer fuckin' apples every goddamn year."
Buck laughed, and held up the candy apple she'd been about to select. "Good news, my husband's are just as good." He considered. "Better since I started helpin'," he decided. "Y'want some for the road?" he suggested.
She really did, but couldn't risk trucking around a crate of apples when she had to run away, so she shook her head. "Maybe I'll circle aroun' later." She wouldn't. Then she remembered something, abruptly, and paled slightly. "Oh, uh, hey, Buck? I gotta friend here, he said he was gonna help me ask after you. Big guy, horns."
"Oh, Gareth? You know him?"
"Yeah, he's a friend of my boyfriend's. We're gonna surprise him, later, so if he comes by askin' after you, mentionin' me, it's cause we haven't popped the surprise yet. Jus' pretend I was never here, okay?" she pushed a finger to her lips and winked suggestively.
"Heh, alrigh', nephew, I got yer back," he said with a laugh. "Don't be a stranger, yeah?"
"Yeah. It was good seein' you again, Buck. Thanks fer everythin'."
"Ah, it weren't nothin'. Yer lil gadgets were more than worth it." He wagged a finger at the King. "You keep ahold of him an' treat him right, y'here? You got a real gem on your hands here. He's got more heart than a dragon has gold."
Ren swallowed, terrified for a moment that he'd figured something out, but he was all smiles. She accepted the apple with a shaky grin and turned, ready to pull the King in the other direction and go far, far away, and then farther still the second she could.
Bree had the most shit-eating grin possible for a wolf when Gareth appeared, her tongue lolling out of her mouth to one side. She didn't even fuss much as he picked her up, but had her revenge by licking his ear and the side of his face repeatedly, getting him good and slobbery. She was fairly sure his ears were sensitive and fairly sure he hated the sensation of dog tongue all up in them. She wouldn't fit in an apple barrel. His threat was empty.
No one hurled like Gareth, he spun around to gain momentum as if he was in a hurling competition, and she howled with delight as soon as he released her to her spiral through the air. She wasn't worried; he never missed. She arced through the air and landed in a deep part of the river with a cataclysmic splash.
She splashed around for a while, enjoying herself, before clambering onto the side of the river to watch his grand finale of a pumpkin launch. She'd give a shake later, after she headed back up the hill to him. Might as well drench him; it was a good way as any to start a fight. But she had to give him his moment in the sun first. He loved his trebuchet so damn much, and so did everyone else.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-10-2019
Avi had learned more about Buck than he had about Ren, in his estimation, which was disappointing. Was it not standard to try and embarrass a child in front of their lover with stories of youthful indiscretion? Could he make that the law? Probably not. Next time, he would remember to solicit the embarrassing stories. He would need to observe more couples for proper boyfriendly behavior, of the kind appropriate in front of members of the same nest.
Spying was difficult. This was why he usually left this kind of thing to the professionals.
"He won't be going anywhere if I can help it," Avi assured him, "but I will take excellent care of him." He allowed Ren to pull him away, flashing a closed-mouth smile and a wave of his apple to Buck.
"Your grandfather seems nice," Avi said. "How lucky, that you remained in my kingdom so that I could have you, when you could have gone with him." Everything had worked out. She even got to come to the fair! Who could possibly ask for more, than to be his and to be tended to by Gareth and sometimes fed cakes.
He released her, doing his best to clap his hands together while also holding an excessive apple. "He's going! Look!" He got up on his toes for a better look, and took an enormous bite of his apple, chewing aggressively and watching with rapt attention as Gareth pulled the release pin.
Gareth had brought his own pumpkin, which wasn't obligatory, but he enjoyed trying to grow comically large pumpkins. It was the biggest from this year's garden, as evidenced by the fact that a goddamn werewolf could fit in the sling he'd made for it. He did his final checks, making sure everything seemed to be in order.
Someone with a drum decided to be funny and do a drumroll.
He stood back from the trebuchet, and after a moment's pause, pulled the chain to release the pin. The counterweight fell with terrifying speed, the arm swinging just as fast. He'd rigged the gargoyles onto the fulcrum so they'd spin, because he thought that was funny, and also: he was a show-off.
The pumpkin flew. And flew. And disappeared above the clouds. He laughed, because something about it was anti-climactic in the opposite direction of Declan's earlier failure. No one here was going to be able to see that thing hit the ground. It just went too damn far.
He'd still painted a target in a distant field across the river, solely for his own later satisfaction. It might not hit the exact center—windspeed was too damn variable—but he was sure it would be close.
Everyone had the good grace to cheer despite not actually getting to watch the massive pumpkin explode. Gareth climbed onto the trebuchet so that he could take several unnecessary bows.
Spying was difficult. This was why he usually left this kind of thing to the professionals.
"He won't be going anywhere if I can help it," Avi assured him, "but I will take excellent care of him." He allowed Ren to pull him away, flashing a closed-mouth smile and a wave of his apple to Buck.
"Your grandfather seems nice," Avi said. "How lucky, that you remained in my kingdom so that I could have you, when you could have gone with him." Everything had worked out. She even got to come to the fair! Who could possibly ask for more, than to be his and to be tended to by Gareth and sometimes fed cakes.
He released her, doing his best to clap his hands together while also holding an excessive apple. "He's going! Look!" He got up on his toes for a better look, and took an enormous bite of his apple, chewing aggressively and watching with rapt attention as Gareth pulled the release pin.
Gareth had brought his own pumpkin, which wasn't obligatory, but he enjoyed trying to grow comically large pumpkins. It was the biggest from this year's garden, as evidenced by the fact that a goddamn werewolf could fit in the sling he'd made for it. He did his final checks, making sure everything seemed to be in order.Someone with a drum decided to be funny and do a drumroll.
He stood back from the trebuchet, and after a moment's pause, pulled the chain to release the pin. The counterweight fell with terrifying speed, the arm swinging just as fast. He'd rigged the gargoyles onto the fulcrum so they'd spin, because he thought that was funny, and also: he was a show-off.
The pumpkin flew. And flew. And disappeared above the clouds. He laughed, because something about it was anti-climactic in the opposite direction of Declan's earlier failure. No one here was going to be able to see that thing hit the ground. It just went too damn far.
He'd still painted a target in a distant field across the river, solely for his own later satisfaction. It might not hit the exact center—windspeed was too damn variable—but he was sure it would be close.
Everyone had the good grace to cheer despite not actually getting to watch the massive pumpkin explode. Gareth climbed onto the trebuchet so that he could take several unnecessary bows.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-10-2019
Ren had been expecting prodding from the King, but that didn't mean she appreciated it. She ground her teeth together, willing herself not to rise to his bait. She dropped his hand as soon as they were far enough away that the crowd would hide them from view. "Yeah," she said, unable to keep the murder out of her voice. "I'm real lucky."
And maybe she was, because it was then that the one fucking thing in this feast of distractions that could guarantee the King ignored her for a time was stepping up to bat. The King pointed and clapped excitedly, and Ren remembered how focused he'd been when Gareth laughed.
She wasn't going to get a better chance, she was pretty sure. Not now, when the King was having fun playing with her like a cat with a trapped mouse. She took a few cautious steps away, then when he didn't turn around, backed away as fast as she dared. As soon as she was enough in a crowd that she didn't have to worry about sudden movement catching his eye, she turned and bolted.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took off, twisting around people and even diving between legs until she reached the edge of the fair. She didn't know the area; she had no idea where on her map she might be. But there were rodents in the woods and everything else was secondary to finding a place where the King couldn't find her. A drum roll ceased and crowd cheered as she rocketed into the woods, ignoring a call from a concerned elf.
Distance. First, distance. The King had longer legs, but she had a head start and was, as Gareth had long ago learned, a frighteningly fast runner and a faster climber. She'd head further into the mountains, look for sheer cliffs to climb, small crevices he couldn't make it through.
She hit a rock cliff and didn't slow down for a second, heart in her throat as she began to scale it. She'd send her apologies to Gareth and Buck both if she could, but she had learned her lesson about staying when she should have been selfish. This time, she'd take the head start from the King. This time, she would run.
Bree watched with satisfaction as the pumpkin soared unnecessarily far past the horizon. It would hit something, eventually, something that Gareth had planned for it to hit. Absolutely unnecessary. He was wasted in his current position, which the King knew, but Bree liked it. Anyone could see he was happier like this than he would have been otherwise. He didn't have the temperment of a soldier. He was best suited for pumpkins and dancing and throwing ornery werewolves into rivers. Cheerfully, Bree sprinted up the riverbank and back towards the fair. She waited until he'd just finished bowing and jumped down from the trebuchet, and then tackled him at full force, slamming close to two hundred pounds of soaking wet wolf into his back and beginning a fierce licking attack. She couldn't stay like this and wrestle worth a shit, but it was always nice for that initial blow, and nothing smelled quite like wet dog.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-10-2019
Gareth really was just marvelous at killing people.
He channeled it all into pumpkins now, but if Avi weren't a dragon, it would be an impressively useful set of skills. Fortunately for Gareth, Avi could do more than enough killing for both of them. He didn't need the assistance. Now he could admire skill for skill's sake, instead.
Gareth was finally tackled by a wolf, and Avi sighed. This never ended with anything fun. Just got his hopes up. He wanted to ask Ren what she'd thought, if she was impressed.
Ren was gone.
He finished his apple at a leisurely pace. He felt no panic, because why would he? He was the King of Aeris. If she'd somehow come to harm, he'd know by now. Shouting or the smell of blood. If all she'd done was run—that was meaningless.
He was, however, offended. He had in good faith brought her along with him, and showed her a good time, and this was his thanks? Of course, she was a hellion, eager to note that she was worse even then a brat. Fear and running were the nature of her; of course she wouldn't know what to do with a predator's kindness. It should have occurred to him that she couldn't be given free rein. Last time, Gareth had been there to keep her to heel, and it had lulled him.
Well. Now he knew.
He took a deep breath, and followed the smell of her at a casual stroll out of the fair. He grabbed another fried cake on his way, popping it into his mouth. Hurrying didn't occur to him.
He started to sing as he entered the woods, something he'd learned years ago about a girl killed by her lover. There were a lot of songs about girls killed by their lovers, he'd noticed. It was a pretty enough song, if you didn't listen to the lyrics.
She should know that he was coming; she should know where to find him, in case she wanted to do the smarter thing.
Gareth swore as he was tackled to the ground by too-many pounds of too-wet wolf. He rolled over to wrap his arm around her neck, and rubbed his knuckles mercilessly into the top of her head.
"I'm practically sober, girl," he warned her, "so I hope you don't think you've got a chance here."
He channeled it all into pumpkins now, but if Avi weren't a dragon, it would be an impressively useful set of skills. Fortunately for Gareth, Avi could do more than enough killing for both of them. He didn't need the assistance. Now he could admire skill for skill's sake, instead.
Gareth was finally tackled by a wolf, and Avi sighed. This never ended with anything fun. Just got his hopes up. He wanted to ask Ren what she'd thought, if she was impressed.
Ren was gone.
He finished his apple at a leisurely pace. He felt no panic, because why would he? He was the King of Aeris. If she'd somehow come to harm, he'd know by now. Shouting or the smell of blood. If all she'd done was run—that was meaningless.
He was, however, offended. He had in good faith brought her along with him, and showed her a good time, and this was his thanks? Of course, she was a hellion, eager to note that she was worse even then a brat. Fear and running were the nature of her; of course she wouldn't know what to do with a predator's kindness. It should have occurred to him that she couldn't be given free rein. Last time, Gareth had been there to keep her to heel, and it had lulled him.
Well. Now he knew.
He took a deep breath, and followed the smell of her at a casual stroll out of the fair. He grabbed another fried cake on his way, popping it into his mouth. Hurrying didn't occur to him.
He started to sing as he entered the woods, something he'd learned years ago about a girl killed by her lover. There were a lot of songs about girls killed by their lovers, he'd noticed. It was a pretty enough song, if you didn't listen to the lyrics.
She should know that he was coming; she should know where to find him, in case she wanted to do the smarter thing.
Gareth swore as he was tackled to the ground by too-many pounds of too-wet wolf. He rolled over to wrap his arm around her neck, and rubbed his knuckles mercilessly into the top of her head."I'm practically sober, girl," he warned her, "so I hope you don't think you've got a chance here."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-10-2019
Bridget took great joy in squirming, rolling all over him and getting him absolutely drenched in river water and fur. She growled her protest at the playful-but-painful grinding of his knuckles against her head, and transformed back to slip free of his grasp. "Who needs to win?" she asked with a grin, sprawling out on the ground. "You smell more like wet dog than I do right now. I call that a victory."
Ren was almost surprised, after the first five minutes of running. Part of her had expected to be caught by now. It was ludicrous to think she actually had a chance to escape from a dragon, but maybe he hadn't even noticed she'd gone, yet. Surely, by now? She kept moving, running and climbing, but she knew that after the initial burst, she'd have to slow down. She didn't have the strength to run forever, not after being starved for almost a year. It wasn't as if she'd had a surplus of nutrients before that, either. She wondered, as she slowed to a jog to catch her breath, if this wasn't why. She was a flight risk--obviously she was--so they kept her half-dead to keep her from getting away. It made a twisted kind of sense. For the first time, she resented the human in her, and wished that whatever she was, there was more of it. If only she didn't need food, if only she didn't need water. If only she'd never need to stop running.
It was then that she heard it. In the distance... the echo of a voice. Singing.
Her stomach rolled with nausea, threatening to upend the little food she'd managed to eat at the fair. She couldn't. She'd need the strength, that was for damn sure, and he didn't need the added trail. Her limbs already burning, she took off running again. The echo of the voice might have acted like the sort of long-distance echolocation she'd intended to use rats for, if not for the fact she were in mountains. Instead, it at times seemed to come from several directions at once, leaving her at loss for which way to run, other than forward. Away, as best she could manage.
Oh polly, dear polly, come, go along with me
Polly, pretty polly, come, go along with me
Before we get married some pleasures to see
As it grew louder despite her speed, she could feel dread and terror growing in her stomach. "I wouldn't kill you in front of him," he'd said, so she'd run into the woods, far from Gareth. She'd been given a choice between the cage and getting swept away by an owl, and she'd chosen the owl.
Oh polly, dear polly, you're guessing 'bout right
Polly, dear polly, you're guessing just about right
I dug on your grave the best part of the night
She couldn't even regret it. She couldn't live like this; she couldn't. For all Gareth's kindness, he would never love her, and he would never be able to save her from an owl that decided she was tasty. For all his pride in the cage, he'd locked her in with it.
He stabbed her in her heart and her heart's blood did flow
He stabbed her in her heart and her heart's blood did flow
And into the grave pretty polly did go
Her breath came shorter, she could taste nothing but blood, and she wondered if her heart might burst in her chest and deny the King the pleasure. Forget hiding; she'd tried that before. She would simply run until she collapsed, with an attempt at strategy in squeezing through small places, tight rocks and thick trees. She'd never worn hopelessness well. Hadn't she said she'd die the way she'd lived?
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-11-2019
A cliff marked the beginning of the mountains, and the King regarded it. He'd worn gold bands beneath his sleeves, but it wasn't enough for a full transformation, and he had no desire to be stuck in midform. He pulled off his gloves, tucking them into his pocket alongside the dark glasses. Could he do just the wings? He thought that he could. He tried it, rolling shoulders and stretching out his wings but doing nothing else. Gold turned to lead against his skin.
Had he gotten taller? Shit. Size was the hardest part. It was easy to get bigger if he wasn't careful. He touched the scales across his cheekbones in annoyance. It wasn't quite as bad as midform, but it still felt sloppy. His ill-fitting clothes fit better now.
He crouched, jumped upward and beat his wings to take off. Flying in this form felt clumsy, but he would make do. He went upward, and up, and up. It was faster this way, to get high off the ground and dive rather than following. He watched for motion, and found it. It was almost a little sad, the panic evident in her little limbs and their total failure to do her any good.
The King dove. He built up speed and even heat, using his wings to steer. When he caught her, it was at a forward angle. If he'd gone downward, all that force would have slammed her into the ground and broken her spine. Instead he rolled with her, a strategic tumble to help the massive amount of force dissipate instead of making her absorb it.
When they'd stopped, she was pinned underneath him, caged in by his legs and with a hand holding her down by the neck.
"What do we teach the hatchlings in the castle, Boldheart?"
Gareth lifted his arm just long enough to get a whiff of himself where he'd been holding her. "Ugh—fuck." He nudged her in the ribs with the tip of his boot, the ghost of a kick.
"If you're sick of being single, maybe you should quit rubbing your stink on people at parties. I'm going to tell you right now, it's not the winning move you think it is."
Had he gotten taller? Shit. Size was the hardest part. It was easy to get bigger if he wasn't careful. He touched the scales across his cheekbones in annoyance. It wasn't quite as bad as midform, but it still felt sloppy. His ill-fitting clothes fit better now.
He crouched, jumped upward and beat his wings to take off. Flying in this form felt clumsy, but he would make do. He went upward, and up, and up. It was faster this way, to get high off the ground and dive rather than following. He watched for motion, and found it. It was almost a little sad, the panic evident in her little limbs and their total failure to do her any good.
The King dove. He built up speed and even heat, using his wings to steer. When he caught her, it was at a forward angle. If he'd gone downward, all that force would have slammed her into the ground and broken her spine. Instead he rolled with her, a strategic tumble to help the massive amount of force dissipate instead of making her absorb it.
When they'd stopped, she was pinned underneath him, caged in by his legs and with a hand holding her down by the neck.
"What do we teach the hatchlings in the castle, Boldheart?"
Gareth lifted his arm just long enough to get a whiff of himself where he'd been holding her. "Ugh—fuck." He nudged her in the ribs with the tip of his boot, the ghost of a kick. "If you're sick of being single, maybe you should quit rubbing your stink on people at parties. I'm going to tell you right now, it's not the winning move you think it is."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-11-2019
The singing abruptly stopped, and Ren didn't know what that meant, but knew it was probably a bad sign. She struggled for a last burst of strength, legs burning. Abruptly, something hit her from behind with more force than she'd been expecting, a ludicrous amount of force. It felt like she thought getting hit by a train might. She ragdolled forward, tumbling across the ground head over end with something on her, crashing across fallen leaves and roots.
Her first thought was that he'd transformed to catch her, but no, the grip on her felt human. They rolled, over and over, Ren limp and stunned. When they rolled to a stop, the only thing she was unsurprised by was that she'd wound up on bottom. Everything else, from the fact she was still alive to the fact her spine hadn't broken to fucking wings flaring out behind the still-human-shaped King--was a shock.
Shouldn't have been. Of course he'd play with his food. She wasn't even as lucky as that fucking King's Guard he'd bitten in two. The wings, though... Who would have guessed he could go partway? She'd been strategizing for small or wings. Of course he could do both. Why would the universe let her have even the smallest advantage?
She wasn't sure when her hands at gone to his arm, when she knew how useless it was to pull at him. Now that she had stopped moving, she was aware of how much she'd done to her body, her legs shaking and screeching in pain. Not that the rest of her felt much better.
The King was a resplendent nightmare above her, over-sized wings and unnatural blue eyes that almost glowed in the dimming light, a spattering of scales across his cheekbones further betraying his nature. He was downright monstrous, but if anything, more beautiful for it. His grip on her neck was tight, but not tight enough to kill yet. His claws were too close to too many places where a simple slice could spell her end.
She felt a stirring of fury from the forest and, panicked, set out the strongest cease command she could, whole body spasming with the effort like she'd been shocked by a short bolt of electricity. It had been too strong in her panic; several creatures racing to her defense fell clean out of trees. She felt bad, but she was too scared for finesse. They couldn't help, even in their numbers. They couldn't kill him and she didn't think she could keep running and she refused to be the cause of anyone else's death.
"You can't hide from a dragon," Ren said automatically, staring up at him in a daze as he arms shook--fear and exhaustion and still trying to pull him off of her, an automatic and uncontrolled reaction. "Didn't hide," she pointed out, breath coming short. He wasn't cutting off her breath, but she could barely suck it in anyway. "Was runnin'. Y'gave..." She pulled at his hand, uselessly, wincing. "Y'gave me a head start."
Bree grinned broadly, looking very pleased with herself. "Gonna have to disagree again," she said with a shit-eating grin. "Definitely a winning move, and I don't know how you think a werewolf is gonna get a date without some degree of rubbing scent." She laughed, pushing herself up off the ground. "Tell you what'd fix that stink, Sir Gareth, is a dip in the river." Her tail thumped gleefully and loudly against the ground with speed and force. "Shame to wind up in there this year, but you're already wet." Her own clothes were infuriatingly dry, though her hair was damp. "At least the water's nice this time of year," she added cheerfully.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-11-2019
The King's grin was a baring of teeth, his wings folding up as best they could behind him. They were just too goddamn big in this form, in any form but his true one, and the disproportion irritated him. He was a perfect creature, every part of him to scale; he'd managed to find a shape of equal magnificence, and now she'd gone and made him mar it.
To say nothing of how ready the rest of him was to burst out of his skin, an unscratchable itch.
"Oh, but you were going to try, weren't you?" He reached into her vest without preamble, pulling out the map. He let her go long enough to unroll it and get a good look at it. "That's what this was for, wasn't it?" He tossed it dismissively aside, then slid his hand into her vest again, finding her pouch of gold. "And this, I assume." He shook it. "I might need this, actually," he said, tucking it into his pocket. It wasn't much, but it might be enough to get rid of his wings. "That's a lot for you, isn't it?"
"I didn't give anything. You took it. What should I do with a thief? Should I break your hands?" He took one of her hands, and laced his fingers through hers pointedly, palms pressed tight together. There were twigs in her hair, a small cut on her cheek left by underbrush. He ran his thumb over it and then licked it away.
"I thought you cared for him, you know," he added. "I wouldn't have brought you along if I'd known you only liked fucking him."
The water this time of year was fucking cold, as she well knew. He didn't protest, because obviously it was bad tactics to show fear. "If you want me to throw you back in, you can just say so," he said.
He braced his heels against the ground, spread his hands and curled his fingers in a dare. "You can try me, if you want, but there's easier ways to eat grass."
To say nothing of how ready the rest of him was to burst out of his skin, an unscratchable itch.
"Oh, but you were going to try, weren't you?" He reached into her vest without preamble, pulling out the map. He let her go long enough to unroll it and get a good look at it. "That's what this was for, wasn't it?" He tossed it dismissively aside, then slid his hand into her vest again, finding her pouch of gold. "And this, I assume." He shook it. "I might need this, actually," he said, tucking it into his pocket. It wasn't much, but it might be enough to get rid of his wings. "That's a lot for you, isn't it?"
"I didn't give anything. You took it. What should I do with a thief? Should I break your hands?" He took one of her hands, and laced his fingers through hers pointedly, palms pressed tight together. There were twigs in her hair, a small cut on her cheek left by underbrush. He ran his thumb over it and then licked it away.
"I thought you cared for him, you know," he added. "I wouldn't have brought you along if I'd known you only liked fucking him."
The water this time of year was fucking cold, as she well knew. He didn't protest, because obviously it was bad tactics to show fear. "If you want me to throw you back in, you can just say so," he said.He braced his heels against the ground, spread his hands and curled his fingers in a dare. "You can try me, if you want, but there's easier ways to eat grass."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-11-2019
The map wasn't much of a loss; she could make another without much difficulty. She'd spent long enough studying it that it didn't matter as much as it could have, how the sharpness of the memories of their flight faded. The gold, however, the gold had taken a lot of doing. People didn't just leave that lying around, and the sight of a rat carrying a gold coin is incredibly telling. Everything was a lot for her when she given nothing at all. The comment died on her lips, however. She wasn't dealing with Gareth. What good would explaining the situation do her? Even Gareth didn't understand her desperation. If even he didn't seem to think imprisonment, starving, isolation, boredom were enough to flee, then the King, who had decided her his property, wouldn't.
She didn't think her fear could escalate any further, but when he mentioned breaking her hands, it skyrocketed, a primal fear combined with a horribly practical one. "No, please," she begged, limited breath catching in her throat. He had let her neck go, but she hadn't so much as tried to wiggle away. Pointless. "Please, I'd be useless without my hands, please."
Unable to work, unable to produce, it meant a slow death. Maybe not right away, if the King's Guard kept up their limited feeding of her, but if they were permanently damaged, if she were hobbled. And in the meantime, what was she to do? She imagined months rolling by in a cold cell, nothing to fill her time, no way to fill her hands, and no Gareth for company.
The King intertwined their hands, a cruel mockery of what they'd been doing earlier, and she hated him and herself for ruining it. If she'd just kept playing pretend... But she'd had to try. It was one thing to be captured; it was another to allow yourself to be kept. There was a dog on a leash and then there was one that knew to heel. She whimpered, shaking like the last autumn leaf on the tree.
His next accusation struck almost as deep. "I do care about him," she snapped, surprising herself with both the statement and the vehemence with which she spat it. She took in a sharp breath, looking away. What was she to say? Protest and tell him all about her blossoming, doomed little puppy love? So he could grind it in her face later, or find some way to take that from her too?
"But that doesn't matter," she said, wondering if the King could possibly understand such a thing when he seemed to understand only the parts of her that she herself didn't. "It doesn't matter if I like him or how much. I'm not like you." He was never going to look at her like she was the most beautiful creature on earth, because she wasn't. "I'm... a project. He's workin' on me." She stared resolutely at a tree root, sticking out of the ground far enough to look like a little guillotine, or a noose, and recited. "What I think about it don't matter. What I feel about it don't matter."
"If you throw me back in," she pointed out. "I'll just be another pile of wet dog. I thought you wanted me to hang out with you tonight and find your friend." Her grin had nothing on the King's, even his human form, but she could still look a little predatory sometimes. Canines that were too sharp, other teeth a little more pointy than they should have been. It would scare a human, but it wouldn't scare Gareth. "Why would I try you?" she asked innocently. "You're the one who smells. You should rinse yourself off. But maybe you want to spend the rest of the night smelling like wet dog and alcohol?" She tapped a finger against her chin, considering. "I suppose I couldn't judge you, if so. But you normally smell a lot better, you know. Pine wood and a little bit of engine grease." Her tail thumped against the ground. "You'd probably still be able to end the night with company smelling this way, but I'd feel bad for the company."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-11-2019
The King could smell the fear on her, the stink of it in her sweat as she went all clammy beneath him. He didn't let her hand go. He turned it a little, and kissed the side of her wrist. Stubborn, but not suicidal. That was something. They could work with that. He had something she wanted—her life—and he could dangle that in front of her until she learned.
Her vehemence was unexpected all around. His head cocked in incredulity as much as curiosity.
"Is this what care is, to you?" he asked finally. "That you think it needs to matter? That it is not enough for you to see him happy and well?" He pressed her hand into the ground, his claws sinking into the dirt as an alternative to crushing her bones. "Are you not grateful that you can be a project, when you could be nothing at all? Does it not delight you to know that you have given him purpose, however small, however briefly? You, who would rather be free than allow him to believe he might fix you."
His disbelief and his disdain were both palpable. He'd have understood better if she'd admitted to manipulation, or even just allowing his attention out of a sense of obligation. That would make sense. This, her snippish offense at the idea that she didn't care, he could not abide.
"How do you think it should matter?" he demanded. "Do you think that a feeling ought to entitle you to its return? Kindness, attention? Such greed that it is not enough to feel your own heart shine, as if it is your right to know more. Such care, that would settle for your own joy instead of basking in that of another. You, who wouldn't allow him his heart's desire if it were a sword through your ribs, thinking you deserve better. What do you think you are, except a thing that happens to other people?"
Gareth put his hands on his hips, standing straighter, eyes narrowing. "You've been spending too much time with the King," he decided. Victory through manipulating people into doing what you want whether they like it or not? That was as kingly as it got. "He's a bad influence on you," Gareth warned, wagging a finger at her."I wouldn't," he said. "But that's because I'm a catch." He didn't think anyone really believed it, but that was what made it funny.
Mostly, he was easy. People appreciated convenience.
"If I'm going in the river, I'm taking someone down with me," he decided, looking around. "Who am I taking kicking and screaming into a bath with me, and why is it Declan?"
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-11-2019
Ren was blindsided by genuine emotion from the King. She blinked up at him in shock. She wouldn't say the confusion was overriding the fear, but they were definitely mingling. He hadn't been mad about her escape, not really. Not visibly. Hadn't seemed particularly fussed at all, actually, more like a teacher scolding a particularly troublesome student. But now he was pushing her hand into the ground, tight enough that it hurt, hard enough that she believed he would shatter it with a twitch. But not because she tried to escape. Because she wanted to be loved in return when she loved.
"I... I..." she stammered. She didn't know how to explain it to him and didn't know if she should. If he was angry with her, she wouldn't do any good stoking the fires, but she was terrible at putting them out.
"I... might jus' be a thing that happens to other people," she admitted, thinking of the explosion and the fear and a life full of hatred. "But is it tha' wrong to wanna be a good thing tha' happens to other people?" She bit her lip, regretting that she was talking even as she was saying it. "Am I supposed t'be satisfied at bein' somethin' feared or pitied or both? Why would anyone be content bein' the villain? I'm sick of it! I don't just want people to be happy, I wanna be the thing that makes 'em happy! And yeah, maybe that includes Gareth! Why should I torture him with the thought he might fix me if he just tries harder when he's not the one who broke me to begin with? I don' even know if I can be fixed!"
She was definitely, definitely getting her hand broken, and also probably her neck.
"Is it really so wrong to want someone to look at you the way you look at them? Isn't it normal that if you can't help but stare at someone in a crowd, to want them to stare back? I think that's jus' part o' bein' alive! Part o' likin' someone is hopin' they'll like you back! We're not islands, none of us! Yer highness, I am aware I don't deserve shit, but I still want it. I still dream about it. I never said I wasn't greedy an' I never said I wasn't selfish, an' if he wanted t'kill me, I wouldn't let him, cause that's not what carin' about someone is! That's jus' not carin' about yerself!"
Ah. Yes. Good plan all around. Yell at the angry dragon pinning you to the ground. Make sure he kills you, why not. Honestly, she did some real stupid shit sometimes for someone who said she wanted to live.
"I ran an' it was dumb! It was stupid an' yer right! But if y'really think I'm hopeless, why should I string him along? Jus' so he can be more upset later when y'kill me? I'm tryin' t'do the right thing! I'm always tryin'! I always fuck it up, but I swear to god, I been tryin'!"
Bree sat up a little taller, raised her chin proudly as she grinned. "He's been teaching me how to person better," she told Gareth, smiling. "I think he's a great influence on me. I've been here ten years and I'm still shit at bureaucracy." She smiled wider, finally standing up off the ground, brushing off her grass-covered clothing. "You sure will be a catch once you're in the river!" she suggested cheerfully. "It'll only be a matter of time before people come around with their rods to catch you~"
There was literally no way she wasn't going to watch Declan get dunked into the river. This was a two-for-one special! The King was right, subtlety really did have its benefits! Too bad she was normally too stupid to think of it, honestly.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-11-2019
The King exhaled smoke, holding her still.
"You are very young," he said eventually, "and very stupid, and very human. I have been alive for as long as the moon has been dead. Your bones will have rotted into dirt long before I'm done."
He paused.
"You're probably right, of course. Sooner would hurt him less than later. You do not have the luxury of simply lying until one of you is dead. It would be convenient for me to tell him that you'd run. I'd need to tell him something killed you once you'd gone, but it would be true enough, with time. It would be very fitting, I think, to tell him you'd done what he told you not to, and died as he'd said you would. He would mourn less, despite himself, because he could not be expected to save you from your own stupidity." He looked to the sky.
"But not today. Today is a good day. I will not have it be a day when he is punished for not being responsible. I will not allow you the satisfaction of believing you have bested me, when I have given you a gift you've wasted."
He fixed his gaze back onto hers. "I will give you your map back, Boldheart. I will give you a better one. I will pay back your gold, and more. It doesn't matter to me, because it will do you no more good than these. What's mine is mine. But another day, you can try again, if it will make you feel better. Some day in the future, when I grow weary of watching you try."
"You're trying, you say, but what have you given up that has not been taken? What have you offered that you did not expect to lose? You want to be the thing that makes him happy, but what have you done that has not been done to you? Miserable thing that wants to bring joy, dangerous thing that wants to do good, stupid thing that believes it is enough to run. Can you think of no greater gift than your absence? Is this the best you can do, when you're trying? You will not have to wait long for your chance, because your incompetence bores me."
Gareth groaned. "Don't let him do that," he said. "He's a dragon. He's got weird ideas about what being a person entails."
He cupped his hands around his mouth once more. "Hey, Declan!" he called. The wiry ginger turned to see what was going on. "How'd you like to go for one last swim before winter?"
Declan's eyes widened, and he bolted. Gareth, laughing, took off after him. He had the advantage of longer legs, better stamina, and people who cleared a wide path in front of him. They ran a brief spiral with one notable vaulting of a table before Gareth finally caught him.
"Shit!" Declan said, kicking wildly in the air away from Gareth. He didn't actually want to kick Gareth, just wanted to flail.
"We're gonna count your freckles later," Gareth informed him. "Gotta eliminate false positives."
"Is that what we're callin' it now?" He latched suddenly onto Gareth's bicep. "Good luck throwin' me now!" he crowed.
"Misery loves company," Gareth said, before getting a running start and leaping into the river.
Fuck, but it was cold.
"You are very young," he said eventually, "and very stupid, and very human. I have been alive for as long as the moon has been dead. Your bones will have rotted into dirt long before I'm done."
He paused.
"You're probably right, of course. Sooner would hurt him less than later. You do not have the luxury of simply lying until one of you is dead. It would be convenient for me to tell him that you'd run. I'd need to tell him something killed you once you'd gone, but it would be true enough, with time. It would be very fitting, I think, to tell him you'd done what he told you not to, and died as he'd said you would. He would mourn less, despite himself, because he could not be expected to save you from your own stupidity." He looked to the sky.
"But not today. Today is a good day. I will not have it be a day when he is punished for not being responsible. I will not allow you the satisfaction of believing you have bested me, when I have given you a gift you've wasted."
He fixed his gaze back onto hers. "I will give you your map back, Boldheart. I will give you a better one. I will pay back your gold, and more. It doesn't matter to me, because it will do you no more good than these. What's mine is mine. But another day, you can try again, if it will make you feel better. Some day in the future, when I grow weary of watching you try."
"You're trying, you say, but what have you given up that has not been taken? What have you offered that you did not expect to lose? You want to be the thing that makes him happy, but what have you done that has not been done to you? Miserable thing that wants to bring joy, dangerous thing that wants to do good, stupid thing that believes it is enough to run. Can you think of no greater gift than your absence? Is this the best you can do, when you're trying? You will not have to wait long for your chance, because your incompetence bores me."
Gareth groaned. "Don't let him do that," he said. "He's a dragon. He's got weird ideas about what being a person entails."He cupped his hands around his mouth once more. "Hey, Declan!" he called. The wiry ginger turned to see what was going on. "How'd you like to go for one last swim before winter?"
Declan's eyes widened, and he bolted. Gareth, laughing, took off after him. He had the advantage of longer legs, better stamina, and people who cleared a wide path in front of him. They ran a brief spiral with one notable vaulting of a table before Gareth finally caught him.
"Shit!" Declan said, kicking wildly in the air away from Gareth. He didn't actually want to kick Gareth, just wanted to flail.
"We're gonna count your freckles later," Gareth informed him. "Gotta eliminate false positives."
"Is that what we're callin' it now?" He latched suddenly onto Gareth's bicep. "Good luck throwin' me now!" he crowed.
"Misery loves company," Gareth said, before getting a running start and leaping into the river.
Fuck, but it was cold.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-11-2019
She could not believe she had nearly just talked the King into murdering her. She also couldn't believe she was still alive despite herself. She wilted under his scorn, mostly because he was... kind of right. She was a contradiction in all of her parts, and she felt it stinging every day. There was nothing more stupid than a dangerous thing trying to be good, and everyone around her, even Gareth, could see that. They knew she was inherently bad and inherently dangerous. Hadn't she always heard as much? She just hadn't wanted to believe it.
Not only was he right about that, but he was right about her fear-based incompetence. From the day she'd been arrested, she was reacting. The most active thing she'd done was plan her escape, and even that was just her trying to get back the status quo that had been taken from her. But she didn't know what else to do. She didn't know how to be better hungry and bleeding.
Was Gareth right? If she played the game long enough, would she slowly gain back freedoms? Was Colin right? If she gave up, would it stop hurting? Could she bear to? Would it be better to keep trying to run until the King killed her? Were they all the same thing?
"I don't understand," she said quietly, after too long in silence, willing herself not to shed a single tear. She was coming to detest being 'fragile.' "Any of it, startin' with why any of you want me t'begin with." Why she was even worth going to this effort for, when she wasn't really allowed to do anything that any commonplace mechanic couldn't do, surely. She didn't understand why Avi wanted her and didn't understand why Gareth fussed after her. She didn't understand what she had that was valuable when the things she valued herself for were the reasons she had been brought low when she'd already thought she was about as low as one could get. "Y'never kill me when I think yer gonna, either."
She took a deep breath, and made a decision. Of a sort. "Don't give me th' map, and don't give me gold. I fucked up today, an' I don't deserve either back. If yer gonna give me anythin', tell me how I can start makin' tonight up t'you." The first and most simple step forward was an attempt to walk back to where she'd been. The worst he could say was that there was nothing to be done. She wouldn't be any worse off for asking. If she could just make herself believe she wouldn't be any worse off for asking, maybe she could ask other people other things, as well.
As for the rest... Well, she could puzzle that over later. She didn't have that much time, but at least of what she did have, such a large portion of it could be dedicated to just thinking.
The King, by Bridget's gander, was much better at being a person than her. He'd been doing it at least three years longer, even if you only counted his time trying to engage with a society. If he had weird ideas about what it was to be a person, well, at least he had ideas. She could edit them out if she found any objectionable, surely. Bridget watched with delight as Gareth chased Declan around. It was hard not to join in. She chased them down to the river, and watched as he canonballed into the water, Declan yelping the whole way in.
Ah, fuck, why not give misery some more company.
She took a running leap, jumping up to catch a tree branch before swinging herself over the water. Her limbs flailed wildly in the air before they transformed into a wolf's, fur replacing clothing a foot before she hit the water's surface, creating a splash large enough to re-soak anyone who'd managed to stand up. She let out a damp howl of delight as she surfaced, doggy-paddling over towards Declan and Gareth. Of course, they didn't have any way to keep their clothes dry while doing this like she did, but still, it was the thought that counted.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-12-2019
The King finally let her hand go, shaking dirt from his fingertips and buffing his claws irritably against his cape.
"I want you because you were given to me," he said plainly. "What's mine is mine." It was the principle of the thing, after all. He wasn't the one who'd singled her out and saved her from the noose. That was probably Grilka, with eir eye for talent. What was the explanation he'd been given, when he was giving final approval? "You were doing something special," he recalled. "You were trying to fix your mistake, when we caught you. It showed potential." Not for what she was, but for what she might be.
"You always think I'm going to kill you," he added.
He huffed. "It's too late," he said petulantly. "You've ruined it. Now we have to go back early, and we won't get to see the fireworks, and it's all your fault. And you're only sorry because I caught you and said I was going to break your hands." His wings flexed, and he pouted in the direction of the trees.
"... tell me a secret," he decided, looking at her again. "Something you want to keep secret from me, that you never want me to know." He brought his face close to hers. "I'll know if you're lying," he added.
He wouldn't. He'd hear if her heart was racing, but that didn't mean shit. He made everyone's heart race, all the time, recreationally. But so far everyone just seemed to accept that this was something a dragon could do, and he was perfectly happy to perpetuate the notion.
"Dammit," Declan said, splashing at Gareth. "You're a menace," he said, giving Bridget a splash for good measure.
"You like it," Gareth said, running his hand over his hair to get it out of his face.
Declan's blush was hidden by the fact that he was turning red from cold.
"That trebuchet was fucked," Gareth added.
"I wanted that to happen," Declan insisted. "As a joke."
"Bullshit." He grabbed Declan by the arm. "C'mon, let's see if Tommy's got any hot cider to warm you back up before you freeze to death." Declan looked hopeful. Gareth nodded toward Bridget. "You can come too, I guess," he said with a grin.
Declan looked nervously at Bridget, because he was pretty sure she was going to give him a world of shit once Gareth was out of earshot.
"I want you because you were given to me," he said plainly. "What's mine is mine." It was the principle of the thing, after all. He wasn't the one who'd singled her out and saved her from the noose. That was probably Grilka, with eir eye for talent. What was the explanation he'd been given, when he was giving final approval? "You were doing something special," he recalled. "You were trying to fix your mistake, when we caught you. It showed potential." Not for what she was, but for what she might be.
"You always think I'm going to kill you," he added.
He huffed. "It's too late," he said petulantly. "You've ruined it. Now we have to go back early, and we won't get to see the fireworks, and it's all your fault. And you're only sorry because I caught you and said I was going to break your hands." His wings flexed, and he pouted in the direction of the trees.
"... tell me a secret," he decided, looking at her again. "Something you want to keep secret from me, that you never want me to know." He brought his face close to hers. "I'll know if you're lying," he added.
He wouldn't. He'd hear if her heart was racing, but that didn't mean shit. He made everyone's heart race, all the time, recreationally. But so far everyone just seemed to accept that this was something a dragon could do, and he was perfectly happy to perpetuate the notion.
"Dammit," Declan said, splashing at Gareth. "You're a menace," he said, giving Bridget a splash for good measure. "You like it," Gareth said, running his hand over his hair to get it out of his face.
Declan's blush was hidden by the fact that he was turning red from cold.
"That trebuchet was fucked," Gareth added.
"I wanted that to happen," Declan insisted. "As a joke."
"Bullshit." He grabbed Declan by the arm. "C'mon, let's see if Tommy's got any hot cider to warm you back up before you freeze to death." Declan looked hopeful. Gareth nodded toward Bridget. "You can come too, I guess," he said with a grin.
Declan looked nervously at Bridget, because he was pretty sure she was going to give him a world of shit once Gareth was out of earshot.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-12-2019
She tried not to breathe too audible a sigh of relief when he let her hand go. He'd said he wouldn't kill her, after all, not that he wouldn't hurt her. She didn't know what to do with the news of why she'd been selected for captivity. She could hear Gareth saying 'I told you so' in her mind, though, and she was very annoyed by it. How annoying, that it would be her desire to do good, which she had been blaming for her captivity the whole time, to be the one thing that had kept her from hanging over a stupid mistake. She'd been worried that he'd say it was too late, and winced. But Gareth hadn't given up the second the King had decided something. He'd bargained. So had the King, with Gareth. With, frankly, much better success, but still. She knew a few of the things the King liked. She could try.
"I'm sorry," she insisted, even though he wasn't wrong at all, "because I was wrong an' you were right an' I ruined yer evenin'. We don't hafta go back straight away if y'don't wanna," she said quickly. She hadn't tried to sit up yet, or, frankly, move at all. His legs were still around her hips, and he still had a general air of looming. "Y'can use th' gold coins to change back. If yer worried about me lookin' rumpled, well, everyone'll just think we had a romp in the woods." If his wings had torn a hole in the back of his shirt, his cloak still covered it. "Lovers proly do it all the time. I won't run off again, an' if y'wanna be sure..."
She glanced around, finding nothing of use, and settled on her own shirt. This wasn't a great angle for it, and there was a lot of wiggling and fumbling going on between the King's legs, but she managed to tear off a long trip from around the base, and held it up.
"Y'can use this. A leash." She'd seen mothers in the city use them on their children. An ignoble experience, to be sure, and pointless when the King could just find her or hold onto her, but he might appreciate the symbolism of it. "I won't slip away, an' the elves won't think anythin' of it. No throwin' stones in their glasses houses, the kinky bastards. An' if y'don't think I deserve t'see the fireworks, I'll close my eyes," she added. "Or y'can cover 'em! I'll be real good th' whole entire night. I'll do everythin' y'tell me without even bein' a brat about it." The King would be the first to point out that she should be doing that all the time anyway, but part of the enjoyment, by her measure, would be in the fact that she was terrible at obeying anyone about anything at any time. Being forced was one thing, but seeing her try on her own was something Gareth enjoyed so much that he was constantly trying to back her into it. She could only hope the King was in agreement.
Of course, leave it to the King to make that difficult before he'd even agreed. She bit her lip, thinking. It was very difficult, with his face this close to hers. She didn't even begin to doubt that he could tell when she was lying. It seemed about par for the course at this point.
What secrets did she have? And also, what kinds of secrets did the King like? Her horrifying, burgeoning feelings for Gareth? Nope, that ship had sailed about the time she'd argued with the King about what healthy love looked like--as if she, Stockholm queen, had any fucking room to be judging anything in that area. That part of her liked being scared by him, when he wasn't going to kill her? Mm. No, he probably just assumed everyone liked him. He wouldn't be delighted to hear her agony in that area because he'd just assume it was already there. But what? What did she not want him to kn--
The King would know when the thought hit her, because she had a face journey right there in the dirt. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, she looked embarrassed and angry and then grit her teeth. This was stupid. She didn't even think it was a good secret, but she had never wanted him to know. She turned her head to glare at a root, but he pulled her face back to look into his with a two-fingered grip on her chin. She took as deep a breath as she could manage under the circumstances, which wasn't saying much, to keep any tears from her eyes.
"You killed my dad," she said. It wasn't accusatory, even, just a statement of fact. "Thirteen years ago, you ate him at the Royal Banquet. Royal soldiers came to take his assets, an' I was thrown out onto the street. You're th' reason I was homeless; you an' him." She took another breath, this one even shorter. "He never legally adopted me," she explained, and the surge of pain that came from that admittance was an old one. "Guess they figured I was just some homeless kid come to take advantage." She dug one of her hands into the dirt, bit her lip, and then continued.
"I didn't want y'to know because I knew y'wouldn't care." This part was somehow harder to admit than that she'd been eagerly facefucked by the dragon who ate her father, such that he was. She glared down and away, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment in roughly equal parts. "I don't tell people, especially people I like, a lotta things that I don't think they care about, cause I hate bein' right." That was at the crux of all her secrets, frankly. No one would care that the King ate her father, least of all the King. He hadn't even really been her father, and she certainly had never been his child. But she was on the streets because of the King, and not a single person in the world would care, especially not anyone she wanted to.
Bridget didn't mind being splashed, since she had a magic 'dry off' button that neither of them did. But she did swim close enough to give him a large-tongued lick across the side of the face in revenge. His skin was icy against the heat of her tongue, and she would have laughed if she could. Right, they didn't have insulation! Poor, cold bastards. She scrambled up the side of the river ahead of them, giving a mighty shake that sent a wall of water droplets out in every direction. Once she was satisfied that she was dry enough, she changed back, mildly rumpled and only slightly damp.
"I want cider too," she announced, with every intent to pour moonshine into it. "I caught dozens of pumpkins tonight, an' if Declan-Directly-To-The-Ground gets cider, I should get some too." The transforming back and forth, rapid fire, had her lightheaded. She was pushing herself too much already, and would definitely be sick in the morning. But if she was going to be sick anyway, might as well make it worth it. "I'll race you to Tommy," she told both of them. "On two legs, to make it fair! Last one there has to carry me." This seemed more than fair. She wouldn't lose--ten years ago she'd been the fastest runner in the Kingdom, and that hadn't changed much. Between an elf and a half-demon, she had no idea who'd win, and either way she got picked up.