LS in the house.
So here's the only advice I'll give you about this – don't question it. Expect 'Of Warriors' insanity, just very toned down. Also, no worries, Martin becomes less homicidal and Gonff less idiotic after the first scene, they're not going to be repeats of their 'Of Warriors' personas. You'll see what I mean.
Remember - Don't fight it.
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ADVENTURE #53
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Bright sunlight embraced the Forest, a golden mirror in the gurgling streams. The meekest breeze danced about the fields and trees, carrying with it the laughter of the newly-innocent and the grace of calm. Framed by the faint ripple of birds overhead, the picture of perfect peace was complete.
"WHAAAT?"
And the peace was no more.
"Let me get this straight. You-"
Gonff cringed and his whole frame seemed to shrink in shame, eyes meekly searching for understanding, and Martin could not even force himself to repeat what he had just been told.
"If it helps, we get to keep the dog," The mousethief quickly quipped.
"NOT – HELPING," Martin growled out, paw over his eyes as if protecting himself from an onslaught of something very disturbing. Gonff waited patiently, however still wary of his best friend.
"We don't have a dog," Martin finally mumbles into his paws, shoulders tense with disbelief.
Gonff took this as a sign that Martin had finally accepted the Truth.
Paws pushing the skin of his face down as one will in times of extreme momentary brain blockage, Martin uttered, slowly, cautiously – "You got my house repossessed."
The thief grins tremulously. "I was out of money."
Martin said nothing.
"And – and your matey Timballisto was saying, 'We always help a brotha out', well,-"
"Stop talking." Eyes shut tight, Martin turns and lets Gonff step inside the house. Feeling his way to his kitchen table, he sat down roughly.
Afraid to say anything lest he angered his best friend further, Gonff closed the special door softly and followed his friend silently, wondering if the warrior would actually snap. He had held up reasonably fine in the past – granted, the thief had only done minor stupid things in the past (often times with Martin himself's help). There was a reason this modest wooden adobe was now modest and wooden. And mysteriously lacked a chimney.
"Timballisto tried to push me off a cliff when we were dibbuns." Martin said flatly, suddenly, as if he had been engaged in conversation all along, in the manner of one who is desperately avoiding the Truth. "Don't trust him. And we can't have a dog, we're mice, that's just sick."
"Humans keep them as pets," Gonff added helpfully.
"Humans are ugly and kill each other for fun."
"Point taken."
Patched silence rang throughout the kitchen once again. Gonff looked about and saw that the usually mild-tempered warrior was actually close to self-implosion by shock.
"You need to get out of this place anyway! We'll hurry to finish Collie's and my house, so you can live with us for a while until we build you a new house, like you did for us."
Martin looked up at his best friend, barely believing that he was conversing as if he had accepted the recent turn of events. He said, slowly, in a tone that conveyed that he still didn't agree to this, "I don't want to get in Columbine's way."
Gonff raised his eyebrows, whiskers twitching.
"Okay, no, I'm just sick of living with you."
He winced. "Look, mate, if that's all –"
"YOU GOT MY HOUSE REPOED!!" The cry sounded slightly hysterical.
"Okay, yes, that's old news now Mister Grouchytrousers. Nothing we can do about it, so let's just-"
WHAM!
As it were, Gonff was one of the few beasts who knew firsthand that Martin was not always kind, calm, and composed.
The custom-built door was designed for easy opening from the inside, well fitted and adjusted to function perfectly. This door was made specially for Gonff – so that he could a) run away from Martin's beserk rages as fast as possible, and b) be literally thrown out at any given moment. Martin had grown sick of replacing the windows, so Skipper and Amber had pitched in as a Yuletide present. Martin had been very pleased and mildly embarrassed, and Gonff very wary.
Rolling into an awkward heap on the soft dust path, Gonff coughed and let himself up as Martin growled from the doorway, "You are getting me my house back."
And slammed the door shut.
The mousethief paused to assess the situation. As most beasts knew, he was much more clever than he let on – his reaction would probably have been close to Martin's, only more delirious and – he winced, rubbing his bottom - slightly less violent. It was understandable. Really, this barely ruffled his fur …er, figuratively. After all, Columbine would soothingly tell him, you can't be that close to someone and not be occasionally tired of them. Outbursts of rage helped vent anger and restore their friendship, right? Gonff was sure that after their slightly one-sided homicide attempts the two would be more inseparable than ever.
Speaking of marriage – "Collie!"
Gonff's wife Columbine was walking up the path with a basket full of wet clothes to be hung up and dried. She saw the door shut and the trail of dust on her husband, and sighed.
She returned Gonff's enthusiastic response by putting down her basket to brush him off fussily. "Sometimes I wonder where he gets the strength to pick you up and throw you," She said, preoccupied, as a way of greeting.
"Adrenaline makes you do amazing things," Gonff said nonchalantly.
Columbine raised an eyebrow. "So why would he have this adrenaline?"
"Um. I barely lost a very intense, very close, almost won game of 'Apples to Apples' and got his house repoed?"
Gonff smiled widely. It was so bright a butterfly nearby fried up and dropped to the ground, charred.
"Gonff," Columbine started slowly. "I'm just going to skip the part where I tell you how unbelievable that is, as I'm sure Martin took care of that, and tell you that this means Martin has nowhere to live. And since our house is still being built and we were staying with him, neither do we."
Her husband sighed. "But sugarplum, there was nothing else I could do! I had to save my fur somehow – you never saw those brutes, they could twist me into a yummy yummy pretzel!" He continued, eyes growing wide, "If I didn't pay up what I owed, I would be !"
He could have continued to try milking the nonexistent pity for what it was worth, but Columbine's face stayed blank. "So you gave away your best friend's house."
This time when Gonff smiled, the leaves on the nearby tree shriveled.
She sighed dejectedly. "I should have known something bad had happened when a bird suddenly dropped on the laundry." She flicked the offending corpse away. "And I'm afraid of what this means if I'm spending the rest of my life with you."
Gonff looked at the charred bundle of feathers on the ground dispassionately. "Don't worry, me little princess of poise, darlin' majestic maiden. Martin's not going to lose his house."
Columbine looked up. "You have a plan?"
The tree burst into flame.
"You can stay with us," Luke offered. "Or I'm sure Rose's family wouldn't mind-"
"No," Martin grunted out. "That's not the point. I want my house."
The warrior's parents sighed. At least Gonff was still as alive as he could be in Dark Forest.
"Look, it's not that bad. Gonff's done things like this before. Remember when he blew up your chimney?" His mother Sayna said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood, but Martin killed it repetitively and painfully by her an 'are-you-serious-right-now' look.
"…Or when you both made your own nitric-glycerin and set your mattress on fire?"
Martin kept his lead stare.
"Okay, yes, it's bad, but it'll blow over. He wouldn't do something stupid like this if there weren't a reason, or a way to repair it…"
Sayna's words trailed off as her son's look said, plainly, "please stop talking".
"Alright, fine, what do I know," Sayna huffed and bustled about to the kitchen to fix supper, ignoring her husband and son.
Luke raised an eyebrow and looked down at his son seated at their large table. "You know, Vurg used to do those things to me all the time. Once we had a swordfight with pieces of wood to see which ones would snap and kill us first…"
Martin grunted, not wanting to hear any stories. Luke frowned. "You're being a little ridiculous about this."
"Yes, you certainly don't want to be this wound up when Rose and her family come over for dinner…" his mother added.
The warrior raised his eyes to what would have been the heavens, but they were in heaven, so he guessed he was raising them to the undead clouds. "Why does no one seem to understand the gravity of this situation?"
"Well, you'll fix it, won't you?" Sayna cut in from the window in between the dining room and the kitchen. "You're not going to let it happen, right?"
Martin blinked.
"Up, up, sleepyhead, we're going on an adventure."
Gonff blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked up to see Martin leaning over him, expression clouded and figure framed by the star speckled night sky. He glanced around to see the trees and grass about him and remembered that he hadn't been allowed back inside the house.
"You're talking to me again?" Gonff asked hopefully.
With a sigh of displeasure, Martin said, "Unfortunately, yes. Now come on, ye pudgy piddler, we're going to get my house back." And he held out a paw to help his friend up.
Happily Gonff the Mousethief took the offered paw and sprang up. "I swear sometimes, mate, it's like we share a brain. I was just sayin' to me lovely wife that I was plannin' on going back there meself and bothering those buggers."
Martin shrugged his shoulders and started to walk down the path, away from his house outside of which Gonff had been sleeping. "There's really nothing else we can do. However I think we might have to acquire a little extra company if we need to get my property back by force or skill."
"So why are we leaving now, at night?"
"See, mate, you remember Folgrim? And the Mask?"
Gonff nodded, eyes wide. "A little extra brain and brawn, eh? Good job, I say. Although personally I think we could have covered those two fronts on our own, eh, chum?" the mousethief joked with a friendly shove at the warrior.
Martin smiled grimly. "You can never be sure. Anyhow, they live a little distance from here, and there are other stops we need to make before we're off."
"We need supplies," Gonff assumed.
"Exactly. Rose and my mother offered to pack us some things…"
And the two outlined the vague plan to each other, filling in inquired information.
After a while of silence, Gonff wondered:
"Say, matey, if we shared a brain, which half do you think I'd have?"
"Oh, I don't know, the smallest one I suppose…"
And they walked away under the cloak of night and tragic stars towards uncertain danger.
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TBC
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Could someone help me think of a name for this fic? I'm stumped. Helpful suggestions welcome as well, ffnet butchers positioning and letters like a slasher movie, so if you spot anything awry it'd be neat if you could point it out. kthnx.