Chapter Two : To Find a Girl
When Erik comes to, it doesn't take long for previous events to catch up to his blurry mind. Only, he wasn't entirely sure those memories were indeed reality, as opposed to an insane dream, until his single eye opens and is met with nothing but sky. Certainly not a sight he had ever woken up to in the past three years.
The mage lays there for a short while, dwelling on why his body isn't aching from literally falling from the sky until a series of different questions interrupt, provoked by a man who's path happens to cross with his current resting place. Cobra gives him no thought as he approaches with his mundane inner worries of his work schedule, and if his vacant look is anything to go by he as well could give less of a damn about the man laying on the pavement. Surely, he'd just walk around who probably just seems like a strange homeless man enjoying the sun. Only, he doesn't just walk around him.
This man, this middle aged out-of-style run of the mill wannabe businessman drags his old decrepit grandfather loafers right fucking Through cobras torso. His inners feel like a bean bag being squashed beneath his worn soles, his lungs tingling from the uninvited guest briefly lingering before they continue on their way. His single red eye, wide with perturb, follows those feet as they walk on about their business. He'll probably go the rest of his life without knowing those feet just violated the body of an ex S-class criminal. And Erik will probably go the rest of his prolonged existence without being able to do anything about it.
Cobra, entirely shook by the sensation and not wishing to put himself at risk of repeating it, quickly rights himself to his feet. He realized two things from that oblivious man. 1. No one seems to see him. He's already been informed of such though, he is, after all, dead. And 2. He can phase through people. The question is, does the same apply for walls?
Against his better judgement he puts debunking his ridiculous theories over getting to his actual job.
Virtually invisible and without fear of looking stupid, he casually walks into the nearest solid, which happens to be a street lacrima post. His chest slams right into the thing, making it shudder at the force and spook nearby civilians with the sudden creak. With no one standing near it but him, needless to say the few people left around hurry their walk.
He brushes himself off, blocking out the ridiculousness of what he just done. He rights his all too familiar coat, glad whatever being he incountered set him off in his own clothes rather than those prisoner rags he was made to wear before they brutally dismembered him. Stretching his tingling back and glancing around the nearly deserted concrete road, he finds he hasn't the slightest just where in the fuck he is.
Magnolia, yes obviously he's in Magnolia, Foire. But where exactly? He couldn't give you an answer. It's a wide road, with many narrower brick side streets branching off, tall building lining each. Windows leading to cafes and shops and a handful of people buzzing around just within. Idle thoughts and chit chat fill cobras head as he passes, which is instinctively filtered into the 'unnecessary bullshit' section of his mind (probably the biggest compartment up there, if he's being honest), falling to the backdrop of his mind. The passing voices are just his blurry soundtrack to finding what he's looking for.
The maroon haired mage has been around enough to know there has to be some sort of butterfly and happiness trail or something to that boiling pot of friendship they call a guild. With each passing street he waits for some event. Some dragon slayer, midget master, flying cats, goats in suits, or whatever other bullshit fairy tail has trademarked.
Fortunately for him, his theories are more than correct. A few blocks away, after a quarter hour of walking (Maybe more, he's got better things to contemplate than the passing time.), he quite literally stumbles upon a gathering of civilians. He turns a corner he could have sworn he just took only to be disoriented by a child rushing past- no, rushing through him. His legs quickly take on that 'bag of poorly mixed jello' feeling and he's left stumbling into the nearby wall to support himself.
'I'm never fucking gettin' used to that' He curses inwardly. His eyes follows the snot nosed brat that just blitzed by, only to disappear through the crowd. It seems everyone is gathered around a fountain, that much is visible. The mass of excited voices are too much for his ears to pick apart. Though the crowd outwardly seems calm in their standing, there's no where else the voices could be coming from.
Cobra pushes off the wall and veers for the crowd, only to quickly stall at the realization that he can't just shove his way through. Not without phasing through everyone and leaving his body feeling like a confusing mix of liquid and solid. With a soft growl, he skirts outside the population.
As expected, it rings all the way around. No gaps big enough for a full sized male, and no option of going over. Well, unless he himself can fly. Although he hasn't really tried he's gonna mark that down as a no go. He's pretty damned sure that thing that send him here would have mentioned such an ability before he was thrown in the clouds of magnolia.
So, with his already thin patience for humanity worn down to dust and without any other options, he shoves himself into the crowd. He breathes deep and braces for impact (or lack of impact in this case) but
His calloused hands make contact instead of phasing through. The poor young woman spins around horrified to find nothing there. Or rather, nothing visible. All the while one hand remains now on her shoulder, staring her down it what may have been seen as a glare but is really just genuine confusion. His grip tightens, feeling his nails rip through the cloth and pinch her skin. He hardly registers her scream until the contact is ripped away. The nearby section of the crowds attention is momentarily distracted as she scuddles away, gripping the tear in the shirt Cobra just ruined. Said dragon slayer just stands there for what may have been minutes, staring thoughtfully off in the direction she fled.
"Huh" He utters, looking down at his hand. Needless to say he tries it again. And even more needless to say it provokes the same reaction. Well, the man doesn't run away per say, but stumbles back mildly startled. By the time he successfully shoved his way through the crowd he has a sturdy grip on just how this 'ghost' thing seems to work. He can touch people, but people can not touch him. Well, can't touch him in the physical sense of the word. He's sure as hell their juggling something around inside him when they pass through.
The inner ring of the crowd is the rowdiest, and he quickly realizes why. Some fairies are passing out handmade bracelets for some kind of charity, and naturally the kids are over the moon. How does he know they're handmade? That's simple. Quality. The demon bar maid and her knock off are handing out some high quality (well as high quality as colorful rubber band bracelets can be) shit, meanwhile Natsu is quite literally handing out rubber band balls in the form of wrist wear.
He doesn't have to look any further, Lucy isn't here. Only the Strauss's, Natsu, and the little wind dragon are present. He sighs to himself and sits on the rim of the fountain. This is good enough, Natsu is bound to lead him to her. If he learned anything from overall getting his ass, as part of a collective, handed to him, it's that those two might as well be super glued at the shoulders. It's just a matter of waiting. Unfortunately that's the most tiresome part of missions in his case.
What did he even plan on doing anyway? He briefly thought about it in his walk here. Truth be told, he's not sure. Killing someone, that's second nature. There's a billion and one ways to pull that off in these conditions. Physical murder, that is. But suicide? How does he make someone take their own life? Now that's an interesting question. He's done it before, but not without threats and physical harm. He doesn't have that kind of leverage here. Really, hes unsure if he is allowed to harm her. Not that he ever made a habit of following the rules. He could kill anyone around her, that would be more than easy. But in the end would that make her lose hope or just give her a reason to hold onto it to spite him?
He takes his hands back through his hair and groans in frustration. Some quiet would definitely help his mind along. He's long since learned to control his hearing, but in bustles of people like this even the background blur of activity can start giving him a headache. Especially when his sitting this close to such an obnoxious human being. Natsu Dragneel. For someone whos capable of silencing their inner voice entirely he sure as hell is a loud mother fucker. Erik's eye lingers over to their side of the fountain, watching the overgrown kid and his peculiar side kick bounce around front of the crowd, handing out 'bracelets' and playing with the kids. He honestly isn't sure if Natsu is doing it to fill up the donations box or because he's just that childish, but once the dancing (if you could even call it dancing) starts he quickly decides on the latter.
"Man its a shame Luce couldn't get in on this !" Finally, after nearly an hour of bullshitting with the seemingly nonstop stream of kids, he mentions something worth Cobras while.
"Yea, it is.. but she's been so helpful at the guild, though." Wendy replies softly. So soft, Cobra can hardly hear her over all the noise, both inner and vocal. So she's at the guild then? At least, that's how the he takes it. Too bad he doesn't have a damned clue where that is, meaning he's stuck following the fire fucker. Well, he's sure a building of that size would definitely stand out in a city, but Cobra isn't one for leaving things to chance. If he wanders if now, yea he May find it quicker. But on the other hand, if he sticks with the fairies he'd Definitely find her eventually. Now, Cobra has never been one for sitting around and relying on other people, but he's smart enough to realize when it's the best course of action. Recalling the slayers he's had the pleasure of tangling with so far, that's definitely a quality unique to him. Not that he makes a habit of comparing himself to light guild's mages.
Lucy is quick to fall from the topic, leaving cobra to sit there with nothing but his thoughts for what feels like hours. All he knows is by the time the people start thinning out the sun is threatening to set. They ran out of bracelets a while ago but still found ways to entertain. Still, even Cobra is shocked at their haul. 25,000 jewel isn't bad at all for dancing around all day. Though, he's willing to bet 'dancing around' can describe how they preform on missions as well.
He feels weird, following the younger slayer and his friends. They can't see him, that much is more than obvious, but it feels wrong. Like they know, somehow. He's on edge the entire walk, watching them carefully. Waiting for... something. He doesn't know. Yet. He lingers a good amount of paces behind the group. Close enough to hear anything they may say or think, but far enough to feel comfortable.
Though little Mira (he's still unsure on that ones name) and Wendy go home, the other two continue to the guild to drop off the money. He could care less where they wander off to once they pass the guild doors, his mind is elsewhere.
When he agreed to this, he thought itd be fun. Kill Lucy? He can finally finish what he started. No longer for the clocks sake but just for the simple fact that the blonde managed to get away, and he's sick of letting that fly. What he would give to choke the life out of her himself. But it isn't that easy, unfortunately.
Stepping through the hall of the fairies he can't help but get that happiness vibe, it's practically palpable here. Everyone's drunk off their ass at this hour and brawling but it's not like the guild fights he's seen. They're just overly playful, it's clear they're not trying to really harm anyone. And that pisses him off. He himself doesn't even know why. Everything about this pathetic excuse for an establishment just rubs him the wrong way. And here he is, wandering the grounds like a welcomed guest.
He suppressed his snarl and reminds himself just what he's looking for. Lucy.
Direct is the best approach, he's decided in the surplus of time he had to think. Mentally shake her, make her look crazy. More importantly, make her believe she is crazy. Highly unlikely to make her end it all but it's a start, however small.
He lurks about the guild, shutting out the fuckfest of annoying thoughts and voices. Luckily for him, Lucy's inner thought process is a lot more intriguing, he picked up on that years ago.
Nearly everyone else's mind for the most part consists of a straightforward road of consciousness. Emotions are just pangs of color or feeling, hard to hear unless he hones his sense. But hers, hers is much different. He's never heard much in the way of people's emotions unless he opted to. Yea he can effortlessly get the jist of how they feel through their words and inner tone, and if the feeling is strong enough it shines through clearly, but that's a majority the blonde isn't a part of. Her emotional spectrum is so much more extensive than any he's seen, not to mention every bit of it is an open book to him, whether he wants it to be or not. Even for a woman, she's abnormally emotional. Granted, he's never heard her when she's truly at ease.
Cobra weaves his was through the mess of the guild hall, his eyes searching for any sort of flared emotion. Which, in a bar-like setting where everyone's souls are already expanded with emotion from the drinks, it's not an easy task. Not only that, but everyone in this damned building is out to stumble into his path, inflicting that disgusting goo feeling and easily setting off his temper. He soon graduates from 'peacefully slipping by' to 'brutally shoving himself a path' in a a matter of seconds. Most the mouth breathers around here can't even tell their right from left right now, Cobra doubts anyone assumes his violent rebuttal is anything more than another drunkard crashes up against them. Which, in turn, only stirs their souls even further. Definitely not helping him along.
"Where the fuck.." The beyond annoyed slayer grumbles, finding the opposite end of the hall- the only place he hadn't checked- void of a certain celestial mage. He searches upstairs, down all the halls, and through every unlocked door, scaring the shit out of a few mages in the infirmary. But he gets no where. It's late, nearly 10pm, by time he trudges downstairs and parks his mentally exhausted ass at one of the upper levels tables. His head is beyond fuzzy. It's been years since he's had to put up with so much noise for so long, and it's actually making him miss the solitude of his cell. Not that hearing nothing at all is any better than hearing this cluster fuck.
He's been at this since noon and he's gotten nowhere. He's about to go scouting for her house before he sits back and realizes how irritatingly long the task would take. He doesn't even have the first clue where she lives. Perhaps with Natsu, but he's passed out on the first floor from what seems like a head wound if the comically large numb on his head is anything to go by. Not that he'd follow him home anyway. Waiting here is an infinitely surefire option. Even if it means waiting until tomorrow. Still...
If only he had a way to ask for directions...
His eyes stay fixed on the possibly dead fire breather. He could leave a note. 'Hey yea this is the ghost of Cobra, you know, the guy that tried to slaughter your buds a couple times? Yea I need your girl's address' Cobra snickers at the idea, entertaining the thought. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, a better alternative presents itself.
Bixlow.. Truth be told, Cobra doesn't know much about the guy. But by the way his dolls flip their shit when their master unknowingly passes him by is more than enough proof of him being the soul keeper of Laxus's group. He's done moderate research on them. From what he knows he can infuse lost souls into objects. Which is a little freaky in the poison slayers opinion.
"Woah woah there" Bixlow chuckles, his grin as ridiculous as it is amusing. His totems have begun to spin around him, cheering a mantra of 'danger danger'. Cobra turns in his chair. He isn't sure on the specifics of where those souls came from, but if their not alive does it mean they can see him? They don't have coherent thought, just clumps of words that make no real sense together.
'Danger, criminal, kill, danger, protect,' each ones thoughts mirrors the others.
"Hm? What's wrong?" Bixlow quizzes, and the little dolls swarm him, one diving right through him.
"Dragon! Dragon!" They cheer.
"I don't suppose you know Lucy's address?" Cobra tries, tipping his body to avoid the wooden figures.
"Lucy! Lucy!" They echo.
"What the fuck is up with you guys?" Bixlow leans on the table, peering over beyond cobra and down to the first floor. "Lucy isn't here. And she's definitely not a fuckin dragon"
"Where is she?" Cobra asks.
"Where! Where!" They echo, as Cobra hoped.
"She went home. You think something happened to her?" Bixlow stares thoughtfully at the glorified wooden barrels as if they were more than a broken record of thoughts. Which Cobra can assure, is not the case. But in this particular instance these practically mindless objects are saving him a lot of hassle.
"Can you take me to Lucy?" Its a long shot at best, but long shots is the only thing Cobra got right now.
"No! No!" The totems answer "Stay away! Stay away!" They cry. Cobra runs a hand over his face in annoyance.
"Come on, you guys definitely need some rest" Bixlow urges, walking away and motioning for his pets to follow. Cobra grabs the one that dares to linger behind the others, slamming it to the table.
"Okay it's gonna be like this then. Show me where Lucy lives or I kill him, right now" Cobra growls, jerking his head toward their master. The hunk of oak struggles up against his grasp, but reluctantly calms when the poison slayers claws extend and stab into it. It's little totem friends back off as well when they realize flying at him is useless and only makes his grasp that much harsher.
"Help! Help!" The others whine. Bixlow seems fed up with their 'games'. He expresses some serious inner worry beyond that helmet but apparently he's either too stupid or loaded to act on it. The soul mage just utters some foul words and walks off. Considering he innerly refers to these little hunks of wood as his 'babies' it's kinda fucked up to leave them to flip their shit alone. Cobra certainly isn't gonna complain about it though.
"Sorry! Sorry!" The doll beneath his grasp finally squeaks, it's tone only the slightest bit less cheery.
"You'll show me where Lucy lives then?" Cobra asks slowly, as if talking to a toddler.
"Yes! Yes!"
"Perfect" Cobra grins, slowly lifting his weight off of it.
[A/N: Cobras gonna be at least a bit OOC, especially as the story progresses. Everyone perceives characters differently, and it's impossible to stay completely in sync with the cannon unless your the one who created it. In this fic Erik is portrayed as how I, personally, see him. I can understand if that's not your cup of tea. Nonetheless, I truly appreciate those who read. Hope to see you in the next chapter]