Fleeting Moments
Ch. 8
One of Us
"Splendid, welcome to our merry little band of misfits and marauders, you hapless whelps."
Standing on a makeshift wooden stage, atop one of the many weapon refinement stalls found in the Cathedral, Marco and Star fought the urge to comment on the lackluster speech, and remained still. They faced forward as told, they stayed silent as expected, and as Duwen gestured to them, they let themselves bask in a round of polite applause in their honor. Drinks were thrown back, a few 'here-here's went around, before Duwen called for silence and stepped before them.
First, she clasped each of their hands and slipped a silver ring on their index fingers, both Star and Marco finding they fit perfectly. How she got the size right, or why they needed jewelry was anyone's guess. After their flashy new duds, she took a sword from Alwen and tapped each of their shoulders once, before handing the weapon back to her aloof son, and letting the crowd go through a more vivacious round of cheers.
Marco tossed Star an odd glance, finding the ceremony akin to marriage, or knighthood, but she seemed as lost as he was. It made little difference, as they were here regardless and were given next to no say in how the event would proceed, and as such the two took to resuming their shared confusion. Thankfully, Duwen silenced the cheering again as more drinks were taken, and turned to face the crowd with her usual, intense scrutiny.
"The two of you have done something that no one has been able to do for quite some time," she began with a sudden, off-putting sincerity. She didn't seem like she enjoyed the spotlight any more than they did, but then again what did she enjoy? "You surprised me," she finished, flashing them a short look.
Marco scoffed, both feeling ridiculed and humiliated in front of the entire rebellion, while Star seemed to hang on every word, a noticeable smile forming across her lips as the weird ceremony part of the evening was over. "I figured the two of you would run off, jump ship, and abandon the mission before you even got to Primrose," Duwen continued, tossing them a satisfied smile, much to their discomfort, "Not only did they succeed in securing the most precious bit of intelligence we've had in our lifetimes, but they also fought Zaleeth. ...and won."
This time there came a far wilder round of rabid cheering that filled every crevice of the Cathedral. Even Partolus took to throwing his drunken self around as he called out, "We got some lucky punks here! Hell yeeeaaah!" But of course, Lady Duwen didn't find the reception nearly as comforting. Her face creasing with impatience, she jabbed a pointed finger out to the crowd before bellowing, "We've got an edge, but don't let it get to your head, fools!" Immediately, the cheering died down to a confused murmur as Marco listened with heightened curiosity. Finally, the real meat of their little celebration: the plan moving forward.
"Henceforth, our attack will take place in two weeks during the delivery of the artifact," she continued with sudden, deadly sincerity. Like she had donned a general's cape and intended to fill the role, "Until then, make ready your worthless souls to meet damnation in death, and make ready your pitiful excuse for strength to fight the Crown! We need every advantage we have if we hope to stand even the slightest chance at stealing their little toy. So that means each and every one of you will be bringing your best, or we won't bring you. Understood?!"
"Yes Ma'am!" came the echoing response as every single member of the resistance stood at attention. 'Jeez, the old lady knows how to work a crowd,' Marco noted as the aforementioned crowd began to dissipate for... festivities. But before he or Star could excuse themselves to join in, or to hide away in his room, Duwen turned about and eyed them with daunting intentions. "I would advise the both of you to get to know the rest of your new family until the raid. Fight with them, drink with them, train with them, and most importantly: become. One of them."
"Uhhh, why the hell do we need to train, much less socialize?" Marco asked, folding his arms, "We did our job, as promised, so I think we deserve a little something for our trouble." But Duwen didn't seem to share the same sentiment, marching her old bones right up to him to meet his glare. She smelled like sugar, baked goods, and an old person.
"I'm sure Helwen mentioned what we're after, so I won't play dumb. From what Alwen told me of your debriefing, you two want to use the cleaver, so that means you're gonna have to help fight for it," she countered, her attitude not allowing for any rebuttal, "I want only the best on this mission."
"Well, we did a pretty good job in Primrose, all things considered," Star noted. But once again, Duwen wasn't in the mood to compromise on her demands. She marched over to Star next, jabbing a bony finger into her chest. "And being 'the best' means getting a lot better at not almost dying," She grumbled, flashing Alwen a sudden, demanding glare, "Alwen will have a mission for each of you coming up, and I expect results. The intel you brought us is appreciated, yes, but if you want to use the artifact, you'd better deliver."
The two newest members of the rebellion traded a cautious glance, Marco doing his best not to look offensive and incredulous, before Star spoke up first. "Fine, I don't mind doing another mission with Marco," she noted, challenging Duwen with a smile, "We clearly get results, so I think we can handle something on the side while we wait."
"Let's hope so. However,, the two of you will be working these jobs with members of our own this time, rather than alone. I need to see that you can handle working with us, especially preceding a mission of such high importance," Duwen listed, stepping back and turning to Marco, "You're in the big colosseums now, so that means your fancy footwork," she turned to Star. "And your brute strength, are not going to get you the cleaver. You will train, and improve, or you can forget about using the artifact. Are we clear?"
Marco moved to protest, but before he could, Star grabbed a passing mug from one of the other members, and promptly drank half in one go. "Fine- *beeeelch* -tomorrow we'll mess around with the other kids." Again Marco made to protest his position, to negotiate the conditions of the deal. But before he could even get a word in, Star had finished her drink and tossed it over her shoulder.
"But tonight? I think we've earned a little bit of fun after two days of walking home. C'mon Marco."
Excitement taking over, grabbed his hand and dragged him off, the music inside the Cathedral finally picking up, and the boy rolling his eyes. She had dragged him into another stupid deal against his will. And yet? He was going along with it, again.
~La Danse De Mardi Gras : Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys~
As the two, or rather the one tugging the other along, made their way through the vast cavern that was the main hub, they quickly found that this wasn't exactly an average party. The band was playing weird music from somewhere high above, the people below would join in when they felt like it, and they would dance anywhere there was space. Which meant dancing on shacks, in old carts, anywhere there wasn't already people drinking or dancing themselves into a coma.
And as they drank in the sight of this dimension's version of a rager, Star quickly turned to Marco, squeezing his hand in both of hers. "MarcoMarcoMarco, do you wanna-" she began excitedly, but he was quick to shoot her down this time, before she could drag him into more unwanted...festivities. "No," he barked, yanking his hand out of hers and folding his arms, "I don't dance, so don't ask."
"Wha- Yes you do?" she answered with a tilt of her head, recalling their conversation on the bridge, "You said you could dance the first night we met!"
But he was as cold to her advances as he was with all other aspects of his new life here, shaking his head and leaning down to her level with narrowed eyes. "I never said I didn't know how. I just don't, and that's not changing tonight."
He expected her to meet his refusal with excitable rebuttal, so when she leaned up to meet his glare with wide eyes, it wasn't as surprising as usual. "Awwwww c'moooon, it could be fun," she begged, "Annnd, we could use a little of that after these last few crazy days of-"
"I don't. Dance," Marco repeated, this time with gravel in his voice, the manner in which he spoke whenever he was dead set on not letting her have her way. Why was she being so insistent on dancing, anyway? She'd been pretty quiet and to herself since they left Primrose, even almost matching his attitude and tone yesterday, so what had changed?
"Are you gonna at least tell me why?" Star asked, earning a quick shake of the head from her counterpart, "was it something tragic? I won't push if you really don't wanna, but-" This time, he grabbed both of her shoulders and moved her out of the way of a passing line of dancers, earning a blush from her and a stoic glare from him. Apparently, that was all the answer she needed. "...Fine then, I'll find someone else to dance with," she grumbled.
"Be my guest," came his dry response, dry enough to warrant something alcoholic, "I'm gonna go get a drink, find someplace quiet, and sit this one out." And with that, he left, disappearing into the returning line of dancing warriors, leaving Star alone beside the blacksmith's workstall.
Thankfully, it wasn't too hard for him to find the barrels of whatever these people drank to get crunk. Off to the side of the more open dancing space of the front of the Cathedral, there was a pleasant little cart littered with clean mugs, and several choices of..stuff. Marco was quick to pour himself the one that was most popular with the locals, some kind of amber, frothy liquid. "It's… probably beer, right?' he asked himself, taking a tentative sip.
It was spicy, and zesty with some kind of fruit, but for the most part it tasted pretty similar to what he could find on Earth. 'Yep, that'll do, pig' he mused, feeling satisfied enough to go look for his evening hangout spot. Somewhere out of the way, and hopefully with a good view of everyone else… having fun. Marco moved to check towards the back of the Cathedral, but as he tried to brush past a group of rowdy fighters, one of them lurched back, almost knocking the drink from his hand. Thankfully, none of it spilled on the floor, but what did leave the mug ended up all over his shirt.
"Hey! Watch where you're-" he started to berate, but stopped when he got a decent look at the offending fighter. It was a girl, one who turned around quickly to see who the loud bozo was behind her. She had a pretty mess of red hair down to her shoulders, and green eyes that narrowed into his soul.
Honestly, she was pretty cute, Marco certainly having a type for girls with short hair, but she was also...threatening? She gave off a dangerous vibe he couldn't quite place until she opened her mouth to speak, using an accent he vaguely recognized as scottish?
"What are you staring at ya stupid, bastard?!" she yelled, glaring at him with malice that would make even Duwen seem tame, "I'm tryna drink over here, so take your pea brain, your stupid face, and piss off!"
Marco definitely wasn't expecting that reaction, his mind scrambling to form a response appropriate for someone as crazy as her. But thankfully, he didn't have to think for very long before her fist came flying into his face with a loud *crunch!*
O - O - O - O - O - O - O
Meanwhile, as the music blared from above and echoed all around her, Star roamed between the workstations and depots, watching as the people around her went ballistic. Truth be told, the music wasn't really to her liking, some kind of weird, backwood music the hunters on Mewni used to go for. And to add further truth to her situation, she really wasn't much for dancing, either. But with a reaction as scornful as Marco's, and her over-reaction to go for it regardless, she was more of less stuck with it now.
'I could probably get away with sneaking off to-' she thought to herself before a tap on her should brought her about. She was expecting to see Marco, the big idiot just so distraught with his rejection that he had to come crawling back. But instead, she found someone else, a different guy, smiling at her politely. "Excuse me, miss Butterfly was it?"
She looked him over, instinctively assessing whether or not he was a threat before she could even respond. The guy was a little shorter than Marco, same brown hair except tied into a ponytail, he had a pretty chiseled face, and two startling grey eyes that reflected the torchlight magnificently. In all, pretty hot based on her usual standards. But this wasn't her usual stomping grounds, and she still had issues with strangers who appeared overly nice for no good reason. She kind of wished Marco was here, for whatever reason, but ultimately summed up the nerve to answer, "Yeeeaaa? What's up?"
The guy smiled a little wider, gesturing to himself. "My name is Pezmal Deckard. I was hoping..." he extended his hand to her, his big ole meaty mitt calloused from years of swordplay, "Hoping you'd care to dance with me? You seemed a bit lonely out here, and I've got some fresh company to share with you...if you're interested?"
Star looked him over once again, not really finding anything overly 'interesting', but maybe he was an answered prayer to her dilemma. He did look pretty nice, so with a shrug, she offered, "I don't really like dancing, but… screw it. Let's see what ya got." She grabbed another mug from a traveling dispensary and downed the entire thing in one go before grabbing Pezmal's hand, leading him towards a more populated area of the Cathedral, a spot with plenty of eyes on them, just in case.
What followed was, quite simply, a pretty standard display of dance moves, as far as she was concerned. Where the tempo of the band demanded, they would circle one another in frenzied steps. And when the music would fall into a valley of slower, more somber notes, they would exchange steps and guide each other through the crowd. It wasn't really the ballroom dancing she had spent most of her time learning, but he was actually considerably competent with his coordination.
He was respectful to her boundaries in every sense, not overstepping when she moved closer or further, and he kept his hands where she could see them. On the other hand, Star could feel plenty through his garments, noting he was almost as built as Marco, and with that thought came a question. 'Why am I comparing him to Marco so much?' Sure, Marco was the one person in this dimension she wholly trusted, but it was a little weird to make everything about him.
"Admiring the view, are we?" Pezmal asked, arching an eyebrow at her wandering eyes with a smile, "You haven't said much during our dance, but I've noticed more than a few stolen glances."
Star blushed, embarrassed at having been caught red-handed, and stammered for a good excuse as she turned, leading him around a few more drunken members of the party. "N-nahhh, I just have a habit of over-analyzing people I don't know," she offered with a shrug, "Had a bit of an incident when I- ...we, first got here." Pezmal nodded in understanding, inclining his head to the camp's second-in-command.
"Yes, I heard about your unfortunate run-in with Alwen," he noted with frown, sensing the subject was probably a sensitive one, "I hear it didn't end well for more than a few men, but I too would be cautious after meeting him in a fight. Worry not, your acclimation is understandable here."
Star nodded it off, debating whether to correct him on what incident she was referring to. There had been sooo many. But in the end, she figured it best to leave it be. The guy was clueless, but cute. Definitely cute. "Yeah, that whole night was kind of a disaster," she groaned, before a lighter grin came with the shifting mood, "But hey. Marco sorted it out in the end, and here we are!"
"Yes...I see," he nodded with more than a little discomfort. Star figured he would likely shift topics to something a little more lighthearted, like the music, the drinks, maybe even Duwens attitude or baking skills. But Pezmal surprised her by leaning in closer, thankfully not for anything out of the ordinary, speaking in a hushed tone. "That Marco fellow you're so attached to," he began, curiosity evident in his inquisitive, but polite eyes, "I take it he's a suitor of yours?"
Star gasped for a response so quickly, she had to cough for a moment before she could even breath one up. Her face as red as strawberry licorice, she fumbled around for an answer before the universe stepped in to save her. With a loud crash, Marco burst through the old wood of a shack and rolled to a stop just feet away from them. And with him came a wave of shouting, encouraging, and slurs, before a girl with fiery red hair darted through the hole after him.
"I'm not done with ya yet, Muscles!" she shouted, diving in for a heavy punch. The first one caught Marco square in the jaw, and she reeled back for another. But Marco rolled backwards into a ready stance, pushed her fist to the side, kicked her left leg out from under her, and sidestepped her to grab her from behind. She struggled to keep ground but with more weight on her strained leg, he brought her down to a kneel and held her in a headlock, careful to keep away from her free flailing arm. "The fuck is your problem you crazy bitch?!" he shouted, his nose and cheek trickling with blood.
"You're my goddamn problem, Lizard arse!" she fired right back, driving a hard elbow into his ribs, and then another before squeezing out of his grasp, "Mind your fuckin manners or I'll-" Sudenly, Star was on her, grabbing both wrists and locking them behind the girls back. She struggled to break free, but Star had strength where she lacked patience with this one, and forced her down to her knees with ease. "What the hell are you guys doing?" she asked, horrified at the display.
Marco shot her an incredulous look and gestured to his wounds, and then to the girl she was holding down. "She bumped into me, told me to watch it, and then punched me in the face!" he yelled, seemingly at both of them. But the girl was as hot-tempered as she was ferocious, struggling against the steel grip that bound her. "I did not, ya fuckin liar!"
"My nose is bleeding! Why would it be bleeding if you didn't- Ugghhh!" Marco pinching his nose, thankful to find it wasn't broken, before he carefully stood, glaring at the offending fighter. "You started it!"
"Aye, and I'll end it too! Lemme at em, I'll rearrange his goddamn face!"
*BOOM!*
The music cut out, drowning the Cathedral in a wash of echoing explosion, as all eyes slowly turned to Duwen. The old lady was standing between two masses of soldiers, a fresh, smoldering scorch mark at her feet. She held up another rudimentary bomb, the fuse inches away from the torch she carried as she glared at the two beaten kids. "This one. Will go off. In the mouth of the person who keeps their antics up. Do I make myself clear?" She asked in a voice as cold as ice, and all parties present knew she would deliver on that promise.
After a round of nods, she approached the red head first, stowing her makeshift bomb and gesturing for Star to let her go. The girl rubbed her wrists, glaring at Star before turning to Duwen, bravely waiting for her punishment. But all she got were quiet words, crafted with care as Duwen gestured to the guy with a bloody nose. "Lucy, I'll remind you only once to mind your manners, especially with these two," she stated with cold authority, "they're new, so show them your proper respect. Understood?"
She took to glaring at Marco. And if looks could kill, he'd have died on the spot. But reluctantly, she slowly nodded, standing up and balling her fists behind her back. "Understood, Lady Duwen."
With that, she excused herself, disappearing into the crowd of drunks, warriors and drunken warriors without another word. Duwen jerked her head in the direction of the fleeting reprobate and ordered, "Pezmal, keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't set anything on fire."
He nodded, meeting Star with a polite smile first, then turning to Marco, inclining his head in Lucy's direction. "She's really quite nice when you get to know her," he offered, with a chuckle, "thank you for the dance, Star. Good evening, Marco."
Pezmal hurried off to locate and potentially subdue his comrade, just as Marco flashed Duwen an inquisitive glare. "Who the hell was that?" He asked, the question barbed with spite, "And why do I feel like she wanted a fight from the beginning?" Duwen just shook her head.
"That would be Lucite Duvante. Or, just Lucy. She's a real firecracker in a fight, and packs a meaner punch than just about anyone here," she grumbled, her position stuck somewhere between praise and embarrassment, "and from her standing, you two are the ones who strolled right in and took her intelligence mission to Primrose. I take it she likely had a lot riding on it, just for two newbies to snatch it from her."
"How is that even remotely my fault," Marco growled, taking a rag handed to him by some guy with two mustaches and dabbing it against his cheek. It burned like hell. "Plus, I don't see her as much of an incognito type. More like guns blazing and a shitload of screaming."
"Hence why I took a gamble on you two, and she took that personally," Duwen continued, turning to Star, "you might be fine, but I'd keep an eye on your friend here, in case he comes up missing." Star wrinkled her nose at the idea that Lucy, or whatever her name was, would dispose of Marco, but thankfully the idiot in question was no more keen to it than her.
"Duly noted. I'll watch out, and make sure Marco doesn't start any more fights," Star mumbled, and with that, Duwen took her leave, likely heading back to her office. Star approached Marco and reached for his face, hoping to clean it better than he was trying to, but he swatted her hand away. He didn't look mad, per se, but rather he just looked confused, or a little shell shocked.
"Thanks, but I got it," came his dry response, the two of them heading towards the quieter side of the Cathedral as the music began to pick back up, "Solid hit, I gotta give her that much. But crazy, definitely crazy."
Star furrowed her brow, enough so as to draw his attention before he finally caved and asked, "What? Do I have something on my face?" She sighed, rolling her eyes at how clueless every guy she was dealing with today was being. "Yeah, a little blood, a couple cuts, nothing crazy," she mumbled as a man walked by, slipping both of them another beer, "Honestly, Diaz. I leave you alone for like five minutes, and you get into a fight with someone."
As she took a sip, finding it absolutely delightful, Marco narrowed his eyes at her with blasphemous surprise. "Seriously? She had it out for me and slugged me first, what was I supposed to do? Just take it and smile like an idiot, like you?" his words were barbed, and as such they were met with a cold glare, shutting him up right away.
"When I throw a punch, I usually end the fight, not move it to the dance floor," she huffed, slouching forward. Marco scoffed at her, disappointed to find that she was once again choosing to ignore what he was saying. He sipped his beer, thankful to at least have one, since his first was poured all over his shirt, and the two sat in silence. Until Star glanced his way, inconspicuously inspecting his cuts. "Are you at least okay?" she asked softly, but not soft enough apparently.
Marco slapped down his bloodied rag and glared forward, folding his arms at the ongoing party with disdain. "No, No I am not," he growled. Her first instinct was that he might be referring to his face, but that was just plain dumb. Knowing Marco, Star figured he'd probably brood about it all night like a wounded dog unless someone came to his side. A position she found herself more than qualified for, even from their first night together.
Tentatively, she reached for the bloodied rag, and this time, he didn't protest when she pressed it firmly yet gently against his cheek. For him, it didn't sting as much as before, and he let her advance slide, this time. "Lean your head back, Diaz," she instructed, her tone edging on impatience, so reluctantly he did as he was asked. And as he sat there, brooding and bleeding, Star took care of him, cleaning the excess blood and wiping his nose until his bleeding had subsided.
And as she began to realize he was the only one of the two fighters with any injuries, Marco muttered something under his breath. "We need to hurry up and get the hell out of here." Star inclined her head towards the party, silently asking if he meant the Cathedral, the Resistance, or… "I mean out of this dimension," he clarified with a groan. So stubborn, this idiot. "We don't have time for weird training, or making friends, or dancing around like idiots. We need to get the cleaver and portal home, and try to forget this nightmare ever happened."
"You know, I think you need to loosen up, actually," Star corrected, wiping a trickle of crimson from his lip, making him wince, "Sorry, sorry. But seriously, I know this place totally blows, and has tried to kill us like six times, but we have an opportunity to enjoy ourselves for tonight. What's wrong with taking it? You act like it's gonna hurt us."
Marco glared forward as she cleaned his face, trying to keep it straight as he thought about that. And honestly, he thought it was as dumb as she was, the idea of spending a night dancing and pretending they hadn't been fighting for their lives for two weeks? "You can't honestly think that's healthy, right?" he asked, inclining his head towards her to convey enough sarcasm to overdose on. But she met it with another eyeroll and pressed more firmly against his cut, earning another wince.
"It beats the heck out of hiding off in a corner and moping all night alone," she countered, the two turning to watch another conga line pass, "If you spend every day like it's a struggle, instead of another challenge you overcame, you'll never live a day in your life. So stop being such a grouch and come have fun with me. Please?" But Marco only narrowed his eyes, dropping into a deeper slouch with his arms crossed.
'Why do I even bother... ' she chastised herself, it wasn't like this was her first rodeo with him. The old song and dance between them had and would remain the same, Marco refusing to give an inch, and walking miles by himself. Even after their hard work in Primrose, even after the week and a half alone in the wilderness, he would never let himself just unwind and- "Fine," Marco grumbled, nearly too low to even hear.
"Huh?" Star coughed, accidentally pressing against his new scar, eliciting another hiss of pain. But Marco brushed it off almost as quickly as he answered, "I said fine. Show me how you… relax or whatever. Just, don't expect me to-"
"Let's dance!" she cried, downing the last of her beer and gripping his hand like a vice. Within seconds he had been ripped from his seat and dragged halfway across the Cathedral. And where he would normally have complained and fought to the death to avoid the antics Star got up to on a daily basis? Well, he wasn't doing this for personal pleasure. Star needed this, and would likely mope around just as much as he did. Seeing another bright smile on her face, after two weeks of bitter work, it was worth a night of discomfort.
Three hours later, after his legs were shot, his body aching for the sweet embrace of bed, and after too many drink to count, most going to Star, Marco finally called it quits on the party. Star had discovered just how any drinks it took to get crunk, and he had discovered just how much more annoying she was when she was inebriated.
She drooled and giggled at everything he said, smiled, oohed and ahhhed at every zipping cart and torch, and she was insufferable. Fun, cute, and happy, but insufferable. He had asked Alwen if she could crash in his room, profusely explaining that there were no ill motives, and that he had no intention of doing anything weird, even offering to have a chaperone if required. And thankfully, Alwen agreed that keeping an eye on a drunken hulk of a princess was a good idea, not that she would listen to his refusal anyway.
So with a few random, accidental slaps to the face out of pure drunken stupor, Marco carried Star back to his room and laid her down for the night. It was his second of two nights in this cave he sacrificed his bed for her, opting to sleep on the cold floor, but if it meant keeping her out of trouble, it was worth it. And after a long night of hating his new life, Marco finally enjoyed the sleep he so richly deserved.
And for once, it came with peace, rather than despair.
O - O - O - O - O - O - O
"There's still a chance we might be making a mistake to trust them," Duwen noted, eliciting a round of nods from around the map table, the planning session well underway and full of complications, "if anything, Velona's call to keep an eye on them is at least warranted, wouldn't you agree?"
Across the table, Velona, one of her top ranking general's, Alwen, and a handful of leading warriors all nodded. Though it was Alwen who found the voice to object, if only partially. "I think sending them on a practice run with some of our...questionable troops, would prove as a good start," he noted with dry caution, reading Duwens blank reaction, "though, judging from the battle at Primrose, it's safe to say they're at least no fans of the Crown."
"And what of the reports of a…"monster with purple skin and wings, six arms and enough destructive power to put Zaleeth in his place?" Velona asked, , tracing her fingers along the pommel of her dagger and narrowing her eyes at Alwen in particular, "Apparently it's none other than our very own new recruit, and I hear from some of your men that you knew about it from the beginning. You mind explaining why we have a force of nature sleeping in this very cave?"
Now the room fell silent, all eyes turning to Duwen for an explanation, or even confirmation that it was true. But it instead came from Alwen, who sighed impatiently before laying down his reports. He felt like a chaperone to the two kids rather than a leader, and it was getting annoying, quite frankly. "From my understanding, they're on our side. The girl can transform at will, and will only do so in extreme circumstances," he stated, choosing his words carefully, "and given what I saw that night, the boy is instrumental in keeping her under control."
"Can we expect her to use that form during the attack? Duwen asked, surprising him. At first she was well and against even having them around, and now she wanted them at the front lines? "If we've got a warrior with some hidden firepower, I just wanna know if we can use it, and how stable it will be." But Alwen looked unsure, something the other leaders took notice of.
"That is something you'd have to ask her yourself. As to their loyalty, they're extremely desperate to have a go at the cleaver, should we recover it," he answered, meeting Duwen's eyes, "Whether that's good or bad, or even the only thing they actually want from us... is up in the air. But I don't think we can expect to rely on her transformation."
There came a round of murmurs from the room, until Duwen cleared her throat, gesturing to the slowly forming plans. "I'm afraid I must agree, it would be foolish to rely wholly on a force we cannot control," she noted, scribes at the ready to jot down any orders, "in two weeks, we will strike the caravan with a small vanguard of troops, Star and Marco included. They aren't expecting an attack, so we can take them by surprise, and if things get dicey, do your best to sabotage and survive. The caravan will likely try to escape down their emergency route, where we'll have a second troop waiting to finish them off. Our objective is only the cleaver, and once we have it, you are to escape regardless of casualties or prisoners. ...leaving one of our own behind is only permissible for this mission, given how much is on the line for our way of life. Do you all understand?"
As the scribes furiously noted plans and routes, the room all nodded in mutual assent, except for one general: Velona. "And what happens if Zaleeth is stationed with the caravan?"
Alwen glanced over at Duwen, but for a moment she was speechless, too deep on thought to answer. So to better help the situation, he offered simply, "you better hope he's not, because not even the girl could actually take him down for good."
The mood of the soldiers in the room had dropped drastically, so he felt the need to clarify, "it's nothing to worry about, whether or not that vile Necromancer is there. We've been preparing for months, and we've beaten worse odds, so rest assured that we can handle what we run into."
"Annnnd, we're trusting two newbies to help spearhead our most important mission, not like it's the fate of the country or anything," Velona scoffed, pulling her dagger from the table, a sign that she had heard enough, "let me know when my men should make ready, and try not to let your 'pet projects' get in the way."
Duwen couldn't help but smile, meeting Velona's scrutiny with a look of uncharacteristic confidence. She stood, her bones creaking as she pulled her dagger from the table as well, tossing a wave to the scribes to cut it for the day. "If the reports are true, then our 'pet projects' are better than your best," she challenged, "but if they're not, then we lose nothing but a curious couple of oddities.
Velona inclined her head in a silent question of what next, to which Duwen moved for the door, calling over her shoulder for Alwen.
"Those brats just need some fine tuning, to figure out their groove and how they click. Something about them screams...I don't know...lost. Clueless. But as different as they are, they seem to rely on each other in tandem, possibly too much. That's what the missions are for, what their new partners are for. Alwen, I want to see growth, I want to see them stand strong on their own, like they aren't two lost kids without the other to hold their hand. Understood?"
All eyes shifted to Alwen, and once again, he felt as though he was chaperoning those two nuisances. But as humiliating and degrading his position to them was, he nodded, content to make them miserable at the next opportunity. "You have my word, Lady Duwen. I'll see them ready, all four of them."
O - O - O - O - O - O - O
Four.
Long.
Days.
That's how long he'd been stuck here, and with no end in sight, it was beginning to drive him crazy. No changes to his situation, no news or advancement against Hekapoo; Marco was starting to lose it. And yet, he seemed to be the only one worried about the complacency he was forced to endure.
Despite the utter lack of progress they had made since day one, Star greeted each new day with enthusiasm and determination. She woke up early, she ate quickly, and she and Marco would spend half the day learning the finer points of warfare from Alwen. Following another speedy lunch, there came work, in every facet of cave living, from blacksmith training, to repair processing, to delivery services. At dinner, Star was chipper and eager to rest for the next day, while Marco would excuse himself to exercise and train on his own.
This went on for four straight days, until of course, Alwen finally brought them some news they could chew on: he had a mission ready, and he couldn't brief them fast enough. He led them down to that small room with the map of the region, daggers sunk into the wooden table, and sat them down across from him.
Marco took to immediately inhaling as much information about the region as he could, combing the areas he'd been, the city of Primrose, the network of roads carved into the valleys and forests, and of course...the small patch of forest where that village had been. He glanced at Star, finding her happily tracing their steps from last week, and decided it best to not say anything.
"Having a good look?" Alwen asked, directing their attention to his flat grimace. He clearly didn't look happy about something, and it was a fair guess he would make that their problem next. "Yeah, finally. Thanks for asking," Marco noted, turning back to the map.
Alwen frowned, rolling his eyes. It wasn't like it was his fault they hadn't been trusted with the layout of the land until now. "If you're done, peel your eyes from the parchment and listen up," he ordered, his tone more demanding than normal, "I'm only going to go over this once, so pay attention. The two of you are going after a pair of supply runs for the Crown's forces to the west. Your objectives are pretty simple: take anything of value, don't get caught, and leave no witnesses."
Both Star and Marco alike straightened at his last request, the former leaning forward and asking, "wait, do you mean like...kill them? All of them?" Alwen nodded, arching an eyebrow.
"Is there a problem? You killed two of my men when I found you…"
"Yeah, but...I wasn't... aware of that," Star stammered. She had no consciousness of her actions when in her alternate form, but regardless, Alwen leaned forward with drive she hadn't seen from him. "Then this is a good chance to show us your resolve," he suggested, turning to Marco, who had chosen to remain silent, "of course, if no one sees you, then you don't have to kill anyone."
"Yeah no, we're not out for blood, here to kill all who stand in our way," the boy spat back, an edge of distaste in his voice, "we'll play it like we did in primrose: incapacitate them, and take what we need. They already know who we are, and the brass on their side seems to know roughly where you operate, so we won't kill unless we have to. ...Those are our terms."
The room was deadly silent for what felt like forever, Star exchanging a satisfied glance with Marco before meeting Alwens gaze. And what came as a surprise was a thin smile spreading across his lips as he leaned forward, and nodded.
"Know this: That, is exactly the kind of level headed resolve I like to see. We're not thugs. Or murderers like you took us for that night, we're freedom fighters, out to save our way of life." Marco and Star alike shared an inquisitive glance before turning back to him,, arching their eyebrows in tandem. "Yes, I am aware that we tried to rob you, annnd we tried to kill you. But on on whole, we have a sense of right and wrong, and we won't fall to their level just because we're at war. You both have good heads on your shoulders, and I'm glad I can trust you not to make a mess of things."
Star sighed in relief, slumping back in her chair. Both at the prospect of not having to take an unnecessary life, and that the people they had chosen to fight beside weren't complete cold hearted killers. They weren't like Mewmans back home, eager to take anything they deemed their own at the cost of another's life. "So…? With that test out of the way, what's our real mission?" She asked with a freshly forming smile, one that quickly withered at both Macro and Alwen's confused glances.
"That-...those were the missions," Alwen clarified, arching an impatient brow, "just don't be seen, and make sure you grab intel, valuables, weapons, whatever. You two are going to be under intense scrutiny, so don't mess this up."
The two 'noobs' exchanged a quick glance, neither finding a reason to say no, before Star nodded. "We're ready, point us at the supply lines and we'll get things done, Star-co style."
"Never say that again," Alwen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and I may have forgotten to mention this, but you two won't be embarking on this mission together. You've each been assigned a partner to assist you. Individually."
It was so slight, but Marco could see Star tense, her hands flexing to keep from balling into fists as her eyes narrowed. But she didn't object, not openly anyway.
Marco leaned forward, meeting Alwen's eyes with a sincerity he rarely showed to his 'superior'. "Alwen, can you uhh… give us a few minutes? Alone?"
Thankfully, he didn't argue, giving the two a short nod before excusing himself. After all, they had two hours before they were due to ship out. "Take your time. If you want to back out, I won't judge you. But Duwen? She won't like it."
Marco nodded back as Alwen left the room, and when they were alone, he turned to Star and tried to meet her gaze. She stared at the map, silent to the world as if it offered some form of escape. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked carefully, "it's okay to not be okay, you don't have to act like a hardass for no reason. We've seen some shit, so nobody is gonna blame you for being a little nervous."
"I'm not acting like a hardass," Star argued, turning to look him in the eye, "I just don't think it's smart for us to go off alone. You know how dangerous it is out there." But Marco could see right through her guise, he could see the way her hands were shaking against the table, the way her eyes were scrunched like when she was in a fight.
"Even so, Star, you can handle yourself just fine. If anything, I'm the one who needs to watch his back," he countered. But Star was having none of it, much to his dismay.
"I can't though! The last time we split up…" she trailed off, turning to look back at the map, at that one solitary, isolated spit of forest to the south.
Marco followed her gaze, and let out sigh, relaxing his grimace into something more compassionate. "Look, it's fine," he offered with haste, "you don't have to recap for me, I know things got pretty bad-"
"Then you know that it's a bad idea, plain and simple, Marco!" She argued further, pushing off from the table to stand. She couldn't believe she had to actually spell it out for him, or that he was acting so dense! "We can't split up like this just to pass some dumb test! Especially now that we know what's out there and what we're up against!"
Some part of him knew she had a point, that going off on their own for even something small was a recipe for tragedy. But Marco also knew that the rewards promised to them in return for their efforts were too good to ignore. He pushed off from the table as well, rising to meet her glare with a look of sincerity, careful not to edge her temperament any further. "Star, come on. We can't afford to screw around with these guys right now," he offered carefully, "We're this close to going home, and all we have to do is play nice. When are we gonna have any chances like this again?"
Unfortunately, his efforts to reason with and calm her were no good, her face scrunching into a ball as her fists clenched at her sides. Ohhhh he knew that face, and what kinds of annoying retorts would come with it. "ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? We won't have any chances if we die!" she yelled at him, drawing closer and poking her finger at his chest, "Do you honestly think I wanna go off with some stranger in the middle of fuckboat nowhere?!"
"So you are scared?" Came the hum through Marco's lips, his arms folding before him. Star immediately dropped her glare and took a step back as though his words had wounded her. "No? I'm- I just- last time- UGGGHHH! Yes! I am scared! Are you happy?!"
Marco simply rolled his eyes and strolled back to the table, looking over the map with careful scrutiny. "Not really, no. I don't take pleasure from any of this either, you know."
"Well it kinda sounds like you don't care how I feel about this," she countered, leaning over the map to draw his eyes to hers, "I don't wanna be alone, and I certainly don't wanna be alone with someone I don't even know!"
Marco made to end the argument then and there, but a polite voice sounded from the door, drawing their attention to the exit.
"Well, that's really quite a shame," Pezmal answered with a smile, tilting his head inquisitively towards Star, "I was under the impression that we hit it off, or at the very least, got off to a good start." His awkward grin faltered to take on a more serious note as he gestured to the sword at his hip and the girl at the table. "I've been informed that you're my assignment for today, if that's not a problem?"
Star turned to Marco for some assistance, but only found him smiling at her like a dickish king. Gleefully, he gestured to Pezmal and arched his eyebrows as he whispered to her, "There ya go sunshine, it looks like your boyfriend is ready to go. Best not keep him waiting yeah?" But as Star's face dropped into a seething glare, hot enough to melt steel, he found it beneficial to add, "Okay look, if anything bad happens, I promise I won't be far. Look."
He gestured to the map, and through her scowl, Star followed his hand to show their two planned strike points. Remarkably, he was right, they were actually pretty close, definitely closer than Primrose. "If you really can't tough it out, just turn into a Butterfly," he whispered, careful not to let Pezmal hear, "abandon the mission, and come find me. I can explain things to Alwen and we can work something out. But I don't want to risk losing our chance at going home just because- …" he sighed. "Can you handle that?"
She lowered her gaze to the map, assessing the distance between their mission, as far as Marco could tell. But thankfully, she ultimately relented, letting her hands relax as she stood up straight and nodded. "Fine. But you owe me," she spat, earning a quick nod from Marco in return. Whatever it took to get things rolling, and get closer to going home, it was worth it. Star turned to Pezmal, softening her glare, but only a little. "You. Anything weird, threatening, or otherwise creepy, and I'll-... I don't know, but it won't be pretty. Got it?"
Pezmal nodded, clearly confused with his new partner's dynamic, but nonetheless he and Marco followed Star out of the room. "Have fun you crazy kids," Marco offered with a smile, earning one last cautious glance from Star, before both she and Pezmal disappeared into the cavern.
'I really hope I didn't just sign her death warrant,' he mused before a heavy hand pulled him back into the map room. He turned wildly and rared his fists, but thankfully it was just Alwen. The man raised his hands in a 'stand down' gesture that Marco obliged to, before Alwen offered casually, "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you."
Marco narrowed his eyes. He knew that confident, dark tone of voice anywhere. It was his classic specialty, so he knew Alwen was up to something sinister, diabolical even, but before he could question it, a force equal to a hurricane slammed the door to the map room open so hard, it nearly ripped the frame from the rock. And standing there, face twisted in anger, was the one and only Lucite Duvante. "Goodmorning Lucy," Alwen offered pleasantly enough as Marco recovered his shaken bearings, "are you ready for your assignment?"
Her face was cast in shadow, but her eyes were transfixed on Marco and relaying enough malice to curdle milk. He was here, the idiot she had been watching, and the loser had ripped her greatest achievement from her grasp. She could snap his neck before he even screamed, she could cut out his heart before he even bled. But that would be too easy; no, she knew why she was here, and she knew how best to break him. By forcing him to recognize her prowess, her success, her devotion to the cause! "Hell yeah I am," she boasted, folding her arms and smiling with venom, "just point me at whoevers asses I have to kick, and I'll get ya the goods." Hell yeah. Nailed it. Eat your heart out, muscles for brains.
"Excellent! Here's your partner for the day, try not to break him," Alwen chided, shoving Marco closer to her.
Even Marco stumbled from the surprise push, and as he stood straight before the devil herself, she moved her mouth to talk, but nothing came out. Her eyes were bulging out of her head in barely restrained rage, but with terrifying resolve, she smoothed herself over and looked around the idiot at the other idiot in charge. "Piss off," was all she muttered before turning around to leave.
'Thank. God,' Marco thought as he watched her leave, grateful that he didn't have to deal with… his eyes widened. Was he really such a hypocrite as to all but force Star to leave with a total stranger against her will, and let his unfortunate...situation walk away? As he so eloquently put it, 'We're this close to going home, and all we have to do is play nice. When are we gonna have any chances like this again?' Damnit, he hated when he was right.
"Ugghh. C'mon, Duvante," he called out just before she could close the door, Alwen arching a brow at the display, "let's just get this over with. It's only one day, right?"
She stopped, cold and venomous in her tracks, before turning around to cast her dark shadow of a glare back on Marco. "What?" She asked, her voice as cold as an ice bath in a blizzard.
Alwen folded his arms, content enough to let a self-satisfied smile spread across his lips. This, would certainly be interesting. "I don't like you, and you're- frankly -a bit of a bitch," Marco noted dryly, anticipating the chair that flew over his head and cracked the wall, "but! We have a job to do, and the sooner we get it done, the sooner I can be out of your hair forever. I would love, to never have anything to do with this place for the rest of my life, but here I am, and this is what we're stuck with. So can we just get to work?"
He saw the chair coming, but what he hadn't expected was Lucy to march within inches of his face, her hand raised and curled into a fist. Her green eyes bore holes into his as she clutched his collar, and he could swear there was a heat radiating off her. And quite honestly? It was thrilling, satisfying even to see her so riled up, like Star. But their moment was over quickly. Once she realized that Marco wasn't scared, that he was...excited? What the hell?
"You must really like me, if you want me to stick around that bad," Marco noted with a grin, "really, I'm touched. Guess I have no choice but to stay here forever. With you."
She backed down, taking a step back and giving him a horrified look, before releasing a sigh and lowering his fist. God, Alwen was loving this, and it showed in his Cheshire grin. "Fuckin...fine," Lucy exhaled before turning abruptly, marching toward the door in a huff, "but I dare ya to piss me off out there. I'll break yer legs and leave ya for dead."
"Noted," Marco chided, giving the smiling Alwen a nod before following her out the door, "here's to a fast mission that gets me out of here soon. And Alwen? Fuck you."
"Aye, Goddamn snake of a man."
Alwen hadn't felt this good in years, and it could only get better from here. With a polite wave, he called after them, "Always a pleasure, boy. See you 'crazy kids' when you get back."
"No matter what you think of someone, how you might hate them, how you might love them, all the words you would use to describe them, it doesn't mean a thing. The only strength your thoughts carry, is that they are a catalyst to what really matters: your actions. Your actions are what truly make a difference. So make them count, think less, and act more."
~Mr. Ronald Reagan
~H