AN: written in the wee hours of the morning, so forgive all major plot problems and other crap that doesn't make sense
At times, she hated her brother. No… hate was not the right word. More like loathed, detested, despised. Those were better.
He was running around the main lobby, pissing off shamans who could kill him as an afterthought and still make it look like suicide. Especially since Kororo had decided not to follow him and voluntarily choosing to spend her time sitting with the bags (she knew when he got like this that it was better to keep her fingerprints OFF the train-wreck).
Pirikia shook her head irritably as she went to the refreshment table for her third cup of punch. There wasn't much else to do- no one wanted to talk to anyone out side of their own group. Shamans were a highly suspicious and closed people- all the noise of the filled auditorium was a about a soft murmur.
She poured the red fruit-flavored drink into her plastic cup and began to sip it down. The 'punch' was probably just Sprite and cherry juice- a two-second drink that pleased everyone, or at least got its job done.
Which didn't bother her. If she was looking for something to bother her…
Her brother was now talking to the guy in the wheelchair. This guy had been spending an hour and a half in a corner, watching the screen and talking.
She didn't know if it was too himself or to a spirit. That was the problem with being around shamans. You could never tell if someone had a really small spirit or was just schizophrenic. It made it hard to figure things out.
Her brother was calling the guy creepy- she told herself that she wouldn't have jumped to that conclusion. She looked over at her brother's spirit, humming and swinging her feet a little on the bag. Kororo was small enough to fit into a purse if she wanted a rest… she wouldn't want some idiot calling her creepy just because they were still holding a conversation.
The wheelchair guy didn't seem to mind, though. He didn't give much of any reaction, really, as Horo ran off to find someone else to annoy.
She shrugged, she might as well go sit by the bags, too. What else was there to do until the fight ended?
She felt a tug on her boot followed with a whine. Upon inspection it turned out to be a dog… a bone dog. There must have been a necromancer in the crowd. They were usually hard to spot since you had to see the markings which they would always hide.
So everyone wearing a high collar or a scarf was suspect. Though why one would let their spirit wander so carelessly and signal to everyone that they were there… They were either very ballsy or incredibly stupid.
"Hello… doggy…" she said slowly as the two sized each other up. "Where's your owner?" The dog, obviously, didn't respond. It instead pulled more on her boot strap.
"You want me to follow you?" she asked, feeling stupid that she couldn't read animals when she'd been trained her whole life to. It was missing ears, she justified. And eyes, and organs, and flesh and everything else that should be on a dog. That was the reason.
She could have sworn it nodded at her as it began to walk, constantly looking back to make sure she was following.
They were quickly back at the refreshment table, which had been cleared out completely. People were staring at her from a decent ways off.
The dog sat right in front of the punch bowl, slight movements of the head saying it was looking back and forth between them.
"Your master wants punch?" she asked, once again feeling stupid. The dog barked happily, she could again swear it was nodding.
Obediently, she filled the glass and began to follow the dog across the room.
They were heading straight for wheelchair guy.
Who was, indeed, wearing a scarf.
Oh shit.
Necromancers were generally shunned by the shaman community because of the high levels of fatalities surrounding them. Some guy named 'Faust' was heading that list by far.
She didn't know how many people that dog had been pulling on to get their attention, but most were probably smart enough to avoid it. That was why there was no line…
Necromancers were by nature a very unstable breed, prone to psychosis and aggression. At least, that was all she'd ever been told.
She could find out if all those stories were true or she could drop the punch, turn and run to the safety of their bags.
She could hope the guy didn't see the similarities between her and Horo and decide he was insulted.
The reality hit her that she could die and all she was doing was helping this… dog out.
How bad did the guy really need a drink, anyway?
But then again, wheelchair guy couldn't really get a drink on his own. He'd had a nurse with him, but who knew where she'd gone to.
The guy was probably really thirsty by now… and all she had to do was deliver the drink. Not sit there with him.
But what if he was Faust- THE Faust?
The guy was completely insane, he'd kill you as soon as look at you.
The only way you could be safe around him was not to do one thing…
But what was it?
Something about a girl…
She gulped as she neared him, trembling more and more as she craned her neck to see what was hidden by the scarf. It was on too tight, she couldn't see.
The guy was obviously a necromancer, he had the bone dog. But what if he wasn't? What if he was just on a team with a necromancer, then all this worrying would be for nothing, right?
What if he was on the team of Faust? Would a team mate be as bad as the real thing?
But she'd come this far. Puffing out her chest in what she convinced herself was bravery, she followed the dog the next couple of steps.
"Frankensteiny! There you are!" The man said happily, rubbing the dog lovingly on the head. "I was wondering where you'd…" He trailed off as he caught her out of the corner of his eye and slowly looked over. "Can I help you…?"
"Um… your, um, dog told me to get you this," she said, offering him the punch. He looked between the three for a long while before smiling and gently taking the cup.
"Thank you." She almost fell over. After all her worrying…
"That's it?" She asked. She slapped her hands over her mouth as she realized she'd said that part out loud. He blinked at her, mouth turned in a bit of a confused pout as he thought.
"Oh, I know!" he smiled as he began digging through his pockets. He finally handed her a bill of a thousand yen. "Thank you very much. I was rather thirsty…" He took a long sip as if to prove the point. He beamed at her.
She smiled nervously. "No problem…" As she walked away, she sighed in relief.
At least there was no way that that had been Faust.