Alibaba has trekked down a dusty dirt road that makes the slums look orderly and leaves his calfs itchy and bitten and- oh shit that's a scorpion, careful- exhausted again, his many, many hours of sleep have done absolutely nothing to make him feel any better. He's taken a break twice to wave off nausea and sweats, when the heat got to him, in the shade of a few boulders or perched on the craggy mountains that hang around the edge of this island. The seagulls, which he has unaffectionately nicknamed rats with wings since they pecked and pulled at his rope and left him half strangled and gave him a cut for trying to defend himself (and yes he still does sting with the indignity of being reduced to battling birds.) trail behind him, waiting for him to drop the rocks in his hand, which they have now labeled as dangerous, as they very well should. The earthen gate in the distance is warped by the waves of heat so intense, they move the air and beyond it, Alibaba can see tiny, well tended thatched roofs. His mood picks up, he almost properly jogs towards it. The seagulls squawk and he shouts for them to hurry up in an excited rush.
It's good to be on civilized ground again.
But not good enough to drop the rocks.
The earthen gate doesn't have the name of a village etched on it, nor are there names for the streets that they're on. There's little to it, a small bazaar in the center, huts of fishermen and a few smaller merchants and the dock where they all set out to the mainland, which Alibaba does not know the name of either. Alibaba's had his rags pulled at by about a dozen small children, and he now keeps a fist squarely wrapped around the front, where it ties, much to the dismay of several older women, who boldly call him handsome from their houses while admiring the muscle he's put on and the flash of his earrings and the quick smile that he has for anyone now, because it feels like it's been forever since he's seen so many people, even longer since he's seen ones who aren't planning for war and the small busy village is a balm for frayed nerves.
This place feels like the slums, and regarding all of the mess that's happened recently, it's a place that Alibaba feels like he could stay. He doesn't think about his kingdom, he doesn't think about Kouen and Koumei and their cherry boy jokes and slavery, he doesn't think about his master, or Sinbad or Ja'far, and the pang of guilt he has when he thinks about Mor and Aladdin and Olba and Toto… he stops thinking about them quickly.
He's just thinking about how much Hakuryuu would like it here.
Hakuryuu won't be asleep forever.
Alibaba hurries to find out where this is, comes carefully to the doorway of an elderly lady and her daughter, tying knots in a net.
"Excuse me, Ma'am?" Flattery will get you everywhere and Alibaba uses the entire repertoire of what he's learned to make him seem the handsome pauper in need. Which he is, but still, turning up the charm can't help when he's covered in bandages (that need to be changed, they itch) and caked in filth and sand. His breath stinks so bad that he can taste it. Nevertheless, Alibaba puts his shoulders back and combs his hair into something semi presentable and straightens up his ahoge, a point of charm (aha! Point!) and make a close lipped smile, not your best, but cute enough if he plays it right with the tilt of his head. Alibaba adjusts accordingly and moves in for the kill.
Not an actual kill, she's an old- oh whatever.
"Could you be bothered to tell me where I am?" His smile is a-go. Alibaba ruffles his hair carefully in a spot there isn't too much sand in. The sun radiates from his body. Excellent. According to plan. She has no choice but to be dazzled by his inner beauty and good looks and surely, certainly she will help him. A moment of triumph is on the verge.
The woman keeps tying her knots.
"E-excuse me?" Alibaba reaches forward, waves his hand downwards- this wasn't part of the plan, his eyebrows crumple in the center and the twitch in Alibaba's smile isn't under his control. She doesn't answer. The daughter, tilts her head up in her stead, a mighty scowl worn on her face that shatters Alibaba's smile in a dozen pieces. Such a sullen little girl.
"She's deaf."
"A-ah. Is that so?" The child scoffs and jabs her grandmother quite rudely with her elbow and the grandmother turns to her. She points to Alibaba and the crone pats her granddaughter on the head.
"Such a good boy, Sikander…" Oh. No wonder she- he's so sullen. The longish hair, rounded face and rounder eyes probably make him feel uncomfortably girly. "Can I help you?"
With the woman staring at him, Alibaba is sure to use his lips to enunciate and convey his ideas very clearly.
"May you tell me where I am?"
"Tison, stupid." The old lady didn't say that. That was the boy. Alibaba wants to slap said boy.
Alibaba moves past the stupid remark and jerks his gaze toward the elderly lady who's returned to her knot tying in the shade peacefully. He wrenches it back to Sikander, who he glares at.
"How do you know, you little-"
"I live here; you should be questioning yourself instead of me, you don't even know where you are!"
Alibaba takes pause. He's arguing with a toddler and he's losing. He gives up the ghost, but it doesn't mean he'll take the inane chatter of a child on such a serious matter. Surely this isn't Tison.
"Well if I'm in Tison, where's the plaque? Villages like this have plaques, right?" They do in Balbadd, every city gate has a bronzen one placed neatly on top and in clear view for any travelers' use.
"We don' need a fancy plaque. Just ask anyone around here where you are if you won't believe me. Now scram." Alibaba detests that he's following the command of someone who should be respectful to him, but he does scram because the clock is ticking.
Every single person. They all tell him the same damn thing.
It's Tison.
Holy shit, it's Tison.
And he feels so stupid because how the fuck is this even-? Alibaba clutches at his hair and bites his fingernails, kicks the wall of the house he's by and panics when dust flitters down because this is entire tiny island is like a world monument and shit people are staring. Alibaba darts down the alley and around a corner, sinks down against the wall and puts his head between his legs.
Sinbad's island. He's hiding on Sinbad's home island, a little island off of the coast of Parthevia, which Alibaba isn't really even allowed in as a member of Kou with the world's inarguably second most dangerous man who is asleep behind a rock in an open shack.
He could cry. He could. But it wouldn't do much but waste time, which Alibaba has realized he has in short demand.
He makes a checklist in the dirt of all the time he has in reserve and how much of it he's wasted.
CLEANUP BEGAN- YESTERDAY AFTERNOON (3:30?)
RAN AWAY (YESTERDAY AFTERNOON- 4ISH?)
RENDEZVOUS TIME (7:00)
SEARCH TIME (?)
TIME NOW? HOW MUCH TIME DO I HAVE LEFT?!
Making lists feels good. This makes sense, there's order. Alibaba can do things if he has instruction. You make another list right next to the first one.
TO DO:
You grip your stomach, intending to soothe the ache of the cuts and scrapes there and your arm starts hurting, the one swathed in filthy bandages, the one where your scar reopened.
MEDICAL ATTENTION
FIND OUT THE TIME AND DATE
HIDE HAKURYUU
You rub that out and after frantic, short thought, you fix it.
HIDE HAKURYUU BETTER
CALL ALADDIN AND MOR
GET BREAKFAST
Your stomach agrees with the last one. Time is ticking away, and you rub out your lists in the dirt, remembering that even if the words are gone, the tasks still have order and importance.
Nobody in Tison knows the date.
They know it's somewhere right after bass season and midway through wild peacock season, but much like the people in Balbadd's slums, the date isn't something that fishermen and simple merchants need. You give that search up pretty quickly, even though you probably could have found something if you searched a little harder, but you're not too hard on yourself because halfway through a conversation with a sailor pulling in nets, you notice it's getting hotter.
Which would be reasonable if it was still light out. But enough time has passed you by during your exploration of the town that it's actually getting dark.
You're really burning up. It's disconcerting and it's damn near fire, licking at your forehead, drawing a mist of sweat on your body and somewhere along the line, the world started rocking. Or is that you?
How didn't you notice any of this? The sun is getting in your eyes, hanging low in the sky behind the fisherman and his friends, your mind falls off track.
Such a pretty sunset. The colors blur together like a watercolor painting as Alibaba's body falls.
