isleofavalon | June Catch All

Entry tags:

June Catch All

🧙 WHO: Emil and you
⚔️️ WHAT: A catch-all for quests, events and other happenings for the month of June.
🕒 WHEN: Throughout June
🗺️ WHERE: Camelot Hotel, other locations as described/needed
⚠️ WARNINGS: It's Pride and should it come up, Emil may have gently internalized issues around being gay in a very cishet and intolerant homeworld. Otherwise if anything requires it, I'll put a warning in the subject header of the thread.

PART 1 ▶ TERU TERU BOZU (Quest)

It's dreadfully muggy by around the early afternoon, and maybe it comes as no surprise that the hotel restaurant is busy.

Emil has taken up a small table all to himself, the surface laden not by a late lunch but the standard contents of a basic sewing kit and a pair of scissors, a roll of string and some white cloth. Although the boy sits with a blindfold across his eyes, his fingers measure out a square by spreading them across the thin white cloth, inserting a line of pins to mark the breadth of his hand from end to end. Then, using these pins as a guide, he snips a (slightly ragged) edge, sometimes pricking himself on the way. One won't hear a complaint from him, but he has an eerily keen sense of hearing, and someone who deliberately approaches for a closer look will be courteously invited by the finely-dressed young man to join him.

"It's okay to look," he reassures, smiling as he puts down the scissors. As he pulls out the pins from the cut cloth one by one, his other hand blindly feels around for the pin cushion to stick them to. If it seems challenging to engage in a little arts and crafts exercise while wearing a blindfold, it is, but it doesn't seem that Emil minds too much, "I'm making Teru Teru Bozu, you know, for the sprites that make the weather bad? It was on the board with the other jobs," Emil explains.

Maybe it's in poor taste to take up a table at the hotel restaurant just to take advantage of the air conditioning, his clothes do look too stuffy for the mugginess of early June, with its frilled, high-collared and tailed jacket, his button up shirt and brocade sash. He is a paying customer, as there's a recently emptied glass covered in condensation, ice melting at the bottom. Getting started, Emil has been limited in what jobs he could do himself, so he pawned his necklace - a long strand of silver broken up by a few delicate pendants he used to loop twice around his neck - for a little money to start off.

"There's plenty of material here to go around. And it's kind of fun," he admits, "Please, there's another seat. If nothing else, it would be really nice to have company!"

WILDCARD ▶ (feel free to PM me if you would like to do anything specific!)

[ Brackets or Prose is fine, I have no preference. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You're making...what?"

A six foot tall teenager with an equally tall spear looks down curiously at the boy with a blindfold. He has to admit, the contrast of the action and how the boy was dressed had drawn him in.

"Something that makes the bad weather go away, is that right?"

"Teru teru bozu," Emil explains, as he thinks to himself: a young man. he sounds like he's still a teenager, but has the height of someone already in adulthood. six? six feet.

"You can think of it as a good luck charm if you like," he seats the last pin in the cushion, and starts feeling around for the wadded cotton to start shaping into a ball. Placing it into the center of a square of white cloth, he pulls up all four corners until he can feel their tips meet.

"I hear there are really spirits that take them as brides," he sighs, a little.... wistfully? "And once they're happily wed, the weather clears up. Want to try making one?"

"I haven't heard of a story like that before. But it sounds interesting. I don't mind helping you out."

He sets his spear next to him on the wall and sits in a chair. "So these teru teru bozu stop rain and get taken as brides as a result or are they two separate things?" Gaius isn't a stranger to the art side of arts and crafts, but the crafts side?

He's probably going to screw this up a few times.

He hears the clatter of a weapon propped up against the wall, the scrape and creak of a chair pulled out and sat upon. Emil knows where he is, he is fairly certain of his age, maybe even can imagine his build.

It's enough to have company, who is willing to entertain his errand enough for casual conversation. It passes the time.

"I don't think the dolls themselves have much to do with anything. But if the spirits who can control the weather are happy with their marriage prospects, maybe we'll all benefit?"

And in Emil's opinion, there's something romantic about an imperfect bride finding a partner. Just don't inspect that romantic idea too closely, okay?

"Maybe. Where I am from, we worship the Goddess Aidios but also the winds themselves. I hadn't thought about the winds wanting to marry."

He's peering at Emil's teru teru bozu and trying figure out how to copy it. "So...all you really do is twist it up and tie it like that?"

"Oh, yeah!" Emil places his in his palm and extends it for the other boy's inspection, "They're pretty simple."

After giving him sufficient time to look it over, Emil pulls back his hand, the tips of his ears coloring as he confesses quietly, "But if these spirits take it that seriously, simple just won't cut it, you know? Weddings are important occasions.

"Don't you think they should look nice for their big day? Even if the brides aren't.... you know, people.... how do people dress for weddings where you're from? Do they have flowers and veils and everything?"

"Ah. Well then I'll try my best to make them as good as yours."

He can't imagine the winds wanting to marry, but the winds could be fickle and mischievious. Who is to say they also don't marry each other?

"For a wedding? Well in my tribe, we're nomadic so we don't have a lot of flowers. But we do have special clothes made for anyone getting married. They're usually very colorful and there's lots of blue and green. Men have tunics and women do tend toward dresses and both have lots of bead work and designs sown in. But it can also change a little if the couple getting married is two men or two women. Then they might agree on something different for their outfits."

It makes Gaius a little homesick to think about, but the weddings he could recall were happy memories at the same time.

As good as his? Emil thinks that's mere flattery, because these dolls are simple and clumsily adorned with bits of gauzy fabric and glue. He's no artist, and maybe that's not really the point of this quest. Still, Emil has spent a very long time alone, he's easily taken in by a compliment.

The nameless stranger starts to describe how weddings are done in his own world and Emil is rapt with attention, twisting and bending some colorful pipe cleaner into what probably looks less like a bouquet and more like a bright red sea urchin. He picks up the scissors to snip off an end when he hears: it can also change a little if the couple getting married is two men or two women

Emil drops the scissors in his surprise, then startles terribly at the loud clatter when they hit the floor.

"Oh! Sorry!" Quick to duck under the table, he feels around for the dropped item, a little winded by the very idea. "Wow, that's-" he finds them, picking them up from under his chair, "I didn't think that could happen!"

"The scissors dropping or how marriages are done in my tribe?" Gaius asked. He doesn't offer to get them for the boy since it looks like Emil has it well in hand.

"I will admit that it doesn't happen as often as when men and women get married, but it's there. I think I remember a wedding, but it's been a few years. But really, I should introduce myself. Gaius Worzel, a pleasure."

"Um," Emil says with a nervous tremble in his voice, as he elects not to specify, standing back up with the scissors in one hand and his ears burning. It feels like a tease, and he's reluctant to answer unless he seemingly takes the bait and invites mockery.

Thanks, Gaius, you've planted an idea that he'll never be able to excise. Not that it's wrong — it's just speaking to a wild dream that isn't meant for someone like him. Dreams can be nice, though! He slides the scissors back onto the table, but keeps his hand resting on the edge.

"I'm Emil, it's good to meet you, Gaius."

In the moment following, he asks, "Have you been here for a while? It seems like everyone knows what they're doing."

"I've been here a few months and I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing. I am starting up some classes for people to learn horseback riding since that seems to be important around here. Maybe I'll earn enough to own my own horse and keep it somewhere? Who knows."

He's silent for a little bit, trying to work on his own version of the teru teru bozu, making it look like Emil's as best he can.

"I tried my best. What do you think, Emil?" he asks as he hands over his contribution for the boy to touch and "look" over.

While Zero isn't much about having company, the sight of a boy sitting by the restaurant table cluttered with a sewing kit and white fabric like it's some kind of a sweatshop feels a bit out of place.

"No one's forcing you to do this shit, right?" The job might have been on the board, but Zero wouldn't put it past people to make a kid do it for them and give them the minimal reward. World's just like that, after all. "I'll pass. I earn money in a different way."

Theft and murder—that's the way to go in Zero's book.

"Make sure you get paid for whatever you're doing."

"I will. Are you sure? I have a lot of extra stuff here. And if it's true what they say, that it'll improve the weather, then we'll all feel a little better, right?"

She isn't wrong about people. It doesn't really matter what world or time a person comes from, there are always stories about how the weak are exploited for those with some kind of advantage over them. People would get captured and sold into slavery in far-off places or due to their circumstances, have little choice but to do anything for money.

It doesn't seem like that desperate of a place here, though Emil knows better, there are people who would throw someone like him into a cage fight, after all. It's his own fault, he shouldn't have trusted so eagerly, it's.... kind of why he's staying in shared public spaces and taking special care against going anywhere alone.

So it means something when a woman asks that kind of question, and maybe to someone else, Emil might not seem old enough to read between the lines. She sounds hard. Like one of his best friends, and-

...Is that...?

"Oh," he says, putting down his materials, "Are you hurt somewhere?"

"As long as it doesn't fucking snow, it's fine," Her grudge against snow runs deep, apparently. Not to mention she's not into some doll-making shit. On top of that, she never will be. "Huh? What?"

While Emil can't perceive her amused expression, the feeling surely is reflected in her tone as well. Like Zero would allow anyone to get close enough to hurt her.

"What makes you think that?"

This kid is really too nice for his own good. If someone doesn't take advantage of him, she'd be surprised. He should care about not getting hurt himself with that stupid needle. What Zero doesn't realize that there's a fresh bloodstain on the edge of her skirt she missed. Did she fight with someone or was she practicing blood magic? Or perhaps both? It is a mystery.

"Ummmm," Emil starts to bring his hand up to his nose and stops short as the tips of his ears go a little pink. On.... second thought, it could potentially be very embarrassing if he announced to a post-lunch hour crowd that he smells blood. When did he get so used to all the fighting that he stopped considering that not everybody lives and dies by the sword or has to worry about Shade attacks or....

"Nothing," he hedges, adding almost in a whisper, "Thought I smelled something."

Sitting up straighter, he gamely tries to shift the subject, although the unfortunate effect of spending over a thousand years in a kind of self-imposed exile is that one's social skills suffer tremendously. He's as subtle as a shout.

"I'm Emil, what's your name?" The lady probably doesn't have time for a kid's chatter, but getting to talk to people is such a treat, he really can't help himself.

Zero isn't sure what the kid's deal is. Maybe he really was mistaken? Well, she's not the type to dwell on it in the first place. That bloodstain won't remain unnoticed forever, anyway.

"Must be the kitchen or something," She shrugs and peeks at the doors leading there. They sure take their time serving people food. It makes Zero regret being a somewhat decent person who waits for their meal. "Or someone from around here."

Dragons aren't the only smelly creatures, after all.

"Zero," It's not even that he doesn't have time—she's waiting for food—Zero just isn't used to talking to other people, all things considered. This is what you get after living in isolation where your only companion is a dragon who enjoys playing in the mud more than anything. "How do you even walk around this place?"

Zero isn't known for her subtlety either.

Cooking a good meal takes time, Zero! Though.... they probably have magic microwaves or an enchanted airfryer or something. The mundane versions absolutely existed on Earth back when he was young, but the world has moved on since then, and such technology is unheard of. He's still getting used to the modern comforts around here!

When Zero speculates that it's from the kitchen, Emil neither nods nor shakes his head, because one lie was enough for him for one day, and even then it still feels a little wrong to lead her astray, even if it's for a good reason.

"Me? Oh," Emil shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "It isn't hard to listen for where people are, once you know how."

It's learning the lay of the land and navigating unfamiliar rooms that's more challenging, and he has his share of bruises on his knees and shins from knocking into things, but that's just how it goes. Curious about his temporary conversation partner, he leans forward, "If you're able to fight, I heard there were a few other things on the questboard you could do for a reward, Miss Zero."

[Tifa's seated at the table opposite Emil's and had been letting her curious gaze wander over to him every now and then. She's tried not to stare too much, but it's not everyday you see a young boy in a blindfold attempting arts and crafts. Not that she's judging at all, she thinks there's probably a good enough reason he wears it, but it's the fact that he's doing so well despite it that has her intrigued and honestly, endeared.

But when he speaks up, she wonders to herself if she'd been staring a little too long, or if he could see her facing him through the blindfold.

She sets her glass of water down with a sheepish laugh, face growing warm with embarrassment.]

I would, but you'll have to tell me first what a Teru Teru Bozu is. Haven't had the chance to look at the job board yet.

[Let alone find her bearings. Which is unfortunate because she could really use the money. She can only live off what's given to her for free for so long, no matter the amount of reassurance given. She's already feeling bad about it...

He'll hear her chair scraping against the floor anyway, and her light footsteps carrying her to his table where she doesn't take a seat quite yet, taking a moment to glance over at the materials with a closer eye.]

[ She has a nice voice, it's warm. Like someone poured into her voice the exact way sunlight feels whenever it slants through the window back at the manor and hits his cheek. He can't be sure, not with this blindfold, but it almost sounds like he's put her on the spot.

Emil has spent a long time — a really long time — so used to the idea that his existence is something to apologize and make up for, that the thought of inconveniencing someone else makes him pivot to ingratiate. But that's not the only reason he strives to be agreeable and helpful.

A lot of it is in his nature. ]

It's a kind of doll, or a good luck charm. The spirits like them so much, they even take them as brides!

If they're happy, they'll somehow improve the weather.

[ As he explains, he rolls a wad of cotton into a ball under his hand, and starts to wrap it with the square of cloth. He's about to expose just how into this whole nature spirit matrimony thing he is, smiling shyly as he feels around for a piece of twine. ]

I know it sounds crazy, but it's kind of fun. I was thinking about giving this one its own veil, and maybe some flowers?

[She slides into the seat and shuffles the items on the table a touch, just to give herself a bit of working space, already deciding that whatever he's doing, she wants to help.]

I don't think it's crazy at all. Especially if you're also having fun.

[Tifa's done her fair share of arts and crafts back home. While the others would be out on missions, she would often stay back and not only look after the bar, but Marlene, too. She'd have to find ways to keep the girl busy that wasn't just sitting her in front of the TV with snacks for the day, so the two of them would get creative sometimes. Shopping, coming up with some (non-alcoholic) drinks, and sometimes arts and crafts. She always enjoyed them.]

So, she's already settling into it, choosing to help Emil finish his before starting one of her own.

That one looks like it would definitely like some flowers, I agree. [Nimble fingers poke at the small, dried flowers piled up on one end of the table, and she hums to herself. What would Aerith pick, she wonders?] What do you think of yellow?

[ When he ties one end of the twine, his teru teru bozu looks a lot like a cloth ghost, with a small spherical head and the rest of its body formed of the dangling ends of the square of cloth. Inspecting its shape with his fingers, he smiles at her across the table. ]

Yellow's nice! It's sunny and hopeful, you know?

[ He measures out with his fingers enough twine on the other end of the doll's knotted "neck" to be able to hang it from the windowsill, and snips off the twine. As he starts to delicately touch the items covering the table, looking for a filmy material he plans on using for the veil, he says: ]

Weddings are really special occasions, if I ever got married, I'd want something bright and cheerful.

[ He finds the gauzy fabric at last, starting to follow the edge with his hands to get an idea of how he can use it to make a little bridal veil. ]

....What about you?

Hmmm. Never really thought about it before.

[What with everything going on, she's never had a reason to, or a chance to think about what her wedding would look like. But with the chance now to take a breath at last, she does allow herself the time to wonder. Picking up a red bundle of tiny red flowers, she hums while her fingers tie a piece of twine around the stems into a neat bow.]

I'm thinking something simple. Like... white and red. Maybe a little bit of yellow, too. To liven things up. Make it pop.

[She definitely does have a white and red aesthetic...!]

Guess it's never too early to start thinking about those sorts of things, huh? [Emil does strike her as being quite young, but she isn't judging. She thinks it's sweet.] I mean, look at these teru teru bozu dolls. An hour ago, they had no idea they were getting married and now...!

[She motions to the fabric in his hands, forgetting about the blindfold for a moment.]

What's that for?

[ Emil has been exactly the way he is for.... a long time, so long that all that time leaves the full reckoning of it indistinct around the edges, the gradual erosion of his memories like metal to rust. Even though he will never be "grown up" enough for anyone to marry, it's nice to think about being someone's one and only, of being special for reasons that don't hurt anyone.

She describes what she would want for a hypothetical wedding, simple, white, red, and a little yellow for contrast. It doesn't sound like she has a concrete idea in mind and that suggests she hasn't put much thought into the idea before, just as she told him. It means she's honest and forthcoming.

Emil uses a bit of glue to fix the veil approximately where on the doll's head he means for it to be, his smile widening just enough to begin to dimple. ]

What's what for? [ A moment passes and Emil realizes, of course, if it isn't about the weather charms they're making, it can only be one thing. Smile dropping away and reflexively sitting back, he warns: ] Oh! It's-

It's my eyes. They're.... [ They are not a curse, she said. So he's trying not to keep calling his eyes cursed, even if he still thinks of them that way. ] Different. They'll petrify anyone I look at, so I have to be careful.

[ Emil wouldn't even be surprised if the next sound he hears is the scrape of a chair and retreating footsteps. He can't even say that's not what he would do, if he found out the person he was chatting with had the potential to end his life with a glance. ]

[Tifa stiffens, her back straightening and fingers twitching on the table. She had meant the veil that he's now pinned onto the head, and in realizing she had forgotten about the blindfold over his eyes when she asked, her own smile droops. She never wanted to pry, nor does she want him to think she's doing so, but she listens to the explanation anyway, relieved when he does give it somewhat freely.

No scraping chairs or retreating footsteps here, but a sigh.

Eyes that could petrify anyone he looks at...? That's not something she would wish on anyone, least of all a boy. If it were her, the fear of doing that to anyone would petrify her. She can't say she understands what it's like, but she can understand why.]

That's very thoughtful of you.

[She chooses not to correct him, worried that it would do more harm than good. She already feels bad enough about the reasons why he has it, and he's already opened up about the blindfold, so she isn't going to undermine it by trying to shrug it off.]

You must get used to it, after a while.

[ To be fair, he answered as best as he could under the circumstances! Although he can hear the subtle shift to uncomfortable and, as someone who has a lot to make up for, both by occupying space as a sub-human thing and even worse, occupying the even more enviable position of a person still capable of conscious thought and independent action when the rest of the multiverse can't.... Emil feels a little bad about inconveniencing others.

So when she speculates on how he must be used to it after a while, Emil only smiles silently.

What else can he do or say? ]

No more than the next person. We all have to do our part.

Um.... Anyway!

[ He motions towards her voice, only to realize he has glue on his fingertips, so he spends a moment trying to roll it off into sticky pills. ]

I'm sorry for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Emil.

Tifa Lockhart.

[She gives her answer simply, gently. Tifa would have done the same—steered the subject back on course, away from her—so she can't exactly fault him for it. He answered, even if it was out of an innocent misunderstanding, and that's more than enough.

Motioning to a server, she beckons him over for a glass of water that she dips the corner of a cloth napkin into. Reaching across, she wipes it over his fingers to let him know it's wet, and then drapes it over his other hand.]

So, Emil. Maybe I should get started on the second one, yeah? I have no idea where to start, so I might need you to show me.

[ He can hear her movement and sense that she's getting closer, his other hand leaps up towards his blindfold like it's a reflex, only for his shoulders to jump when he feels the damp cloth against his other hand.

She doesn't treat him like an invalid, or a thing, a kid maybe and that's okay, out of any way he's been interacted with, that's the one he minds the least. It's not that he can blame her? Smiling as he closes his fingers around the cloth, he starts using it to wipe clean the rest of the sticky residue. ]

Thank you, Miss Tifa.

[ He might have gone with Miss Lockhart, but he tried that with the shopkeeper earlier and she got mad about being too young to be addressed like that, so he's trying to adjust to what he assumes is a local custom. ]

Well.... first, you'll need to make its body. A square of cloth works, and if the piece isn't big enough, I have scissors here.

[ He understands what she's doing, it's a little flattering. Making these is simple, it's why kids knew about it, he supposes. She can probably see how it's done just looking over the table, but asking for Emil's help is a way of keeping him included in the process.

That's really kind of her. ]

The wadded cotton is what you'll fill it with. And then you close the cloth around it with some string, like you're making a pouch. Easy, right?

Just Tifa's fine.

[She's never been called Miss Tifa before, not even by the kids in Sector Seven, so it's a bit of a surprise, but not an unwelcome one in the least, so it comes under a gentle huff of amusement. Still, she feels she should correct him—formalities make things much more impersonal, she finds.

Tifa falls quiet now, focused on the fabric while she follows Emil's instructions as he goes. It's true, she could have picked up how it's done just by looking, but this feels like the more enjoyable option. She repeats his steps quietly under her breaths—fill it with the wadded cotton, some string to tie it with—and when she wraps its newly formed neck closed with a neat bow, she lifts it to examine the start of another doll.]

There...! I think this is a good start.

[Her smile can be heard from across the table.]

Hmm. I think it's going to need some clothes. They can't get married without them. [She's already shuffling fabric around the table for something that might work.] What do you think?

He's able to offer his explanation without interruption, but this particular figure hadn't approached because of the craft supplies in front of him— rather, she had spotted Emil himself from the stairs as she'd made her descent, with no intention of stopping before heading out that door to take on a job or two of her own, but her plans had immediately changed.

She would have recognized him anywhere, in any form, but it had been ages since she'd seen him like this, and her hand curls into a tight fist at her side. She had wanted so badly to see her friends again, even as she refused to let herself admit it aloud, but she wasn't in the habit of expecting wishes to come true. They seemed to do that a lot, here.

Fucking weird.

"Emil," she says finally, and her voice sounds strangely hoarse, enough so that she wrinkles her nose in the moments that follow. She doesn't quite sound like herself, and that always makes her uncomfortable. "You're here."

Like he fucking needs to be told. Damn, she's bad at this whole friendship thing.

The voice may sound hoarse, rough from getting squeezed through a tight throat, but Emil would recognize it anywhere. He shoots up so fast that he knocks over his chair, topples over his glass and it spills ice off the edge of the table when he catches himself against it. When normally he might be embarrassed for the commotion he makes just trying to sidle around the table, losing a few wads of cotton and squares of white cloth in the process, the slack oh of his mouth and his urgent pace are his priorities writ large.

His hearing is so keen but the room is still unfamiliar, he has to reach out to make sure he doesn't careen straight into a table or an unoccupied chair on his way to the stairs where he heard her voice.

The first and last time he saw her, she had turned to stone. He had turned her to stone. Emil had tried everything to reverse that awful necessity, even some truly ridiculous efforts that had included an abrasive cloth he found in the manor's storage and an incident involving warm water, but nothing, nothing had so much as scratched the stony surface that bore his friend's visage.

Five fruitless years, until he stood trembling before what had long ago become of his sister, only to be violently wrested from their world and brought here, the last singularity that still lived and breathed with a multiverse in stasis.

He reaches for her, not for the shiver of energy he's come to identify as the places where a Shade has taken root in her body, but for her face, unwilling to risk putting eyes on her but so sure his shaking fingers could recognize what he can't see. Emil promised, the last time they spoke, that he wouldn't cry. And he hates crying with that blindfold, it makes it damp and itchy, but damp spots bloom in the coarse fabric anyway.

"Kainé! Kainé, you're alive!"

It hurts to watch him fumble and struggle, but she lets him do it— understands pride well enough to know that offering help unasked for can cause greater injury in the long run, and when he reaches for her, she leans down to bridge the gap. She reaches for him in turn, gently placing a gloved hand atop his head, and she feels a genuine smile threatening to pull at one corner of her mouth, making itself evident in her voice despite her best efforts to remain hard. There's no point in doing so, she knows, not with him— Emil knows her better than that.

"I'm a lot of things," she says with a weary sort of self-deprecating amusement, now crouched down to meet him at eye-level so that her face is well within his reach. It's strange to see him like this, the boy she had first met in that mansion all those years ago, before she had asked him to seal her away with nothing but her dreams for company, but it's still him. No matter what he looks like, Emil's heart has always been the same.

"You're okay?"

It's only two little words, but the question is much bigger than that. You're not hurt? What happened? How long have you been here?

There's so much that Emil wants to tell her, all jockeying to come up for air and bottlenecked by the sheer force of feeling that's made his throat feel so tight. It seems silly now that he can feel the pale silk of her hair and the fine features of her face, and she asks him if he's okay and suddenly that one thing that bubbles up is a laugh. He nods.

"Yeah!" he's more than just okay! The only reason he hasn't thrown his arms around her and squeezed as tightly as he can is.... he's not sure if he's allowed to, but the weight of her hand on his head is just as nice.

"I thought I'd have to learn magic here so I could bring you back," he says in a rush, "After we save everybody else, you know? Because it's all frozen or something?" Emil paid attention whenever the situation was.... kind of explained? But his memory is unreliable even at the best of times, "So much has happened, Kainé, I, I don't know where to begin!"

Bring her back. It could mean a number of things, but it's the most obvious one that comes to mind.

"From petrification?" Because last time she'd seen him, he'd been a lot less... this, and she needs to know what matches up and what doesn't. It's the kind of situation that probably requires delicate handling.

She's not really capable of that.

"Sounds like we have a lot of catching up to do." It might be better to let him talk first, see if she can put the pieces together that way, but it's just so damn good to see him again that she doesn't really care if things do match up or not. Doesn't really matter, does it? They're still themselves, either way.

She glances towards the work he'd left on the table, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like I'm interrupting something, though. Arts and crafts?"

It's an ambiguous phrase with many possible interpretations, though in this context, to Emil the act of petrifying his friend was as good as killing her. It would be anyway, if he failed here and couldn't return to their own timeline to free her. Maybe it hasn't occurred to Emil that Kainé and Nier both come from somewhere a little further along in things than he does, or if he was told, he forgot.

Again, Emil's memory isn't the most reliable resource they've ever had available to them. So she asks specifically and Emil nods, with a curious list of his head. Because of course he meant petrification, what else could he mean?

The mistake he makes is an auspicious one, perhaps, when he doesn't lean into that question and ask it.

"Oh!" Emil turns his head as if looking back, more like tracking where he remembers sitting before with that same peculiar accuracy that comes with living blindfolded for a truly unreasonable amount of time.

"The questboard asked for teru teru bozu to be made to improve the weather. They're like good luck charms in the shape of dolls? It's easy," he confesses, although he suspects something that seems like boring kid stuff wouldn't have appeal, least of all to someone as strong as Kainé. She can just go out and beat up a troll or something!

"The spirits marry them, and if they're happy with their brides, the weather isn't so bad. Sounds crazy but after that whole thing with the cages and the fighting, I can believe anything would happen!"

Well, he's not wrong. She'd glimpsed that particular posting, she thinks— it tugs at her memory, at least— but it hadn't really been up her alley. The more violent offerings were what she tended to go for. It was what she knew, what she was good at, and someone had to do it. There were all kinds of monsters out there wandering around un-killed, just waiting for someone like her to come and knock them down a peg or two.

But this? Somehow, she's not surprised this had caught Emil's attention, and he'll hear a note of fondness in her voice as she smiles faintly to herself.

"You're really throwing yourself into doing your part to help out, huh." That's like him. "You're better off with these than the cages. Not a good time. Nier and I both got grabbed."

Emil's mouth drops open in surprise. Kainé had been there too?! With all the crowds and noise, he couldn't have picked the sound of her out of everything else going on, and chances were really good they'd want a warrior like her to get the crowd all worked up.

With all due respect (and he loves her like the sister he no longer has), Kainé can be really scary.

Which might be what informs his wise decision not to mention the warden's idea of a warm-up match had been to throw a blindfolded boy at Nier's feet, just to see if the price of his freedom might be paid on the backs of easier fodder. She might go back there and tie his spinal column into a bow or something.

"That was a mistake," he says like he has an idea it didn't end very well for the other guy, "I hope they learned their lesson! ....So," Emil adds softly, "Weiss didn't make it, huh."

Edited 2021-06-30 00:24 (UTC)

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June Catch All

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whooops accidentally replied to a comment 😞

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emil is my favorite unreliable narrator

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