Off-topic/Author's Notes/All the other babbling:
Alright, news. First of all, I know I promised to have EB's(Everlasting Bonds') newest chapter up about now, but two things came up... First off, my writing had gotten really rusty, and secondly, I wasn't done with the planning, so I couldn't write that chapter before this one. Still, I need to apologize for not making good on my word. I'm sorry.
On a happier note, I'll try to begin writing EB's next chapter tomorrow. Until then, I really hope you guys will read and enjoy this update.
ALSO! If you want to know my present status, it is (almost) always available at my profile page. I usually update my daily progress there, because it is the most effective way to keep me writing.
Right. Enjoy.
EDIT: This story doesn't happen in Everlasting Bonds's timeline/universe/continuity. Just so you know.
The Case of A Sneezing Wyvern
Chapter 2: Sneaking Like Rhinos
Severa and Morgan were off to a bad start with their investigation.
Chrom had forbidden them the access to the wyvern stables, leaving a few threats hanging – Severa held on to this opinion, even if Morgan didn't seem to accept Chrom's words as such – and sending them then off to wherever it was that Morgan would wander to next.
It was an almost perfect day, in the most sarcastic sense possible. The only thing that was lacking was Noire chasing Inigo in the midst of army's leathery tents, and…
A tall figure appeared from the midst of brown canvas and worn ropes, almost tripping over a cord as he ran. He twisted his heels to turn rapidly and jumped, shifting through the air, and barely avoided landing face first to the dirt. His shoulder hit the ground hard, and he tumbled, arms helplessly underneath as he rolled a considerable distance. Still, it didn't surprise Severa to see Inigo immediately jump up as if nothing had happened and dash through the open area to his right.
Turning right again like a bunny beset by a cruel hunter, Inigo's arm hit one of the tent poles, bouncing off like an irritated wasp as the man let out a venomous gasp. After rounding the corner, his legs suddenly stopped and though she couldn't see his face, Severa suspected it had been hit by the whitish frost of true horror. Indeed, the man spun around and dashed for the opposite direction almost immediately after his short episode.
Very soon, a blonde woman appeared from the direction Inigo had run away from, wielding a wicked long bow that seemed to surpass her arms in terms of thickness.
…A perfect day indeed, Severa thought. She watched Noire, the blond woman, fire off a few arrows after Inigo and then dash after him as if this whole thing between them were a grand game of cat and mouse, only with lethal ammunition. After Severa was absolutely sure that the two were gone, she sighed, and marched past the scene of spectacle. She soon reached the young tactician who continuously rubbed her forehead in a maddening fashion.
"Got anything?" Severa asked.
Morgan turned, fingers still to the forehead, and she glimpsed at Severa. "No," the girl said. "The facts that grandfather laid are too thin. Knowing that the suspect doesn't have an overly muscular build doesn't really help and besides, anyone could pick up a spell book from the storage tent, provided she has a reason and could account it to Cordelia. That means we cannot automatically suspect our army's magicians, and then there's that sword business…" Morgan's voice trailed off into what seemed to be a silence-in-the-making.
Still, Severa broke it easily enough. "Cutting a stable support with a single strike? Fishy." She flexed her fingers, now that the trek had come to a stop, and then leaned downwards, stretching towards her toes. After all, whatever kind of mental arithmetic life threw her way, Severa could always return to what she did the best; staying fit.
It also had the nice side-effect of keeping her mind sharp as well. "Suppose the suspect had an extraordinary sword?" Severa mused aloud, hoping that Morgan would catch on to the idea.
She did, exclaiming, "Like Falchion!" Then her expression soured. "...I think I might actually dislike that line of thought."
"Why?"
"Well, you have something of a beef with grandfather, right, Sev?" Morgan asked. "It's that business with your mother, I think. How she isn't quite willing to forget-"
"Alright, alright!" Severa cut in, her palms slicing air as she crossed them before her face and then sent them to either side. "I get what you were going for. And no. I'm not out for Chrom's blood."
Morgan pursed her lips so tight they almost hit her sharp little nose, at the same time lowering her eyebrows, imitating the face of a certain overly distrustful merchant.
Severa huffed. "Fine. Don't believe me then."
Morgan's superbly skeptical face kept its form for a short while, and then softened back into her normal pair of curious eyes, a pointy nose and a slightly amused mouth. "Oh, but I do trust you," she said. "I just needed to check your motives before we continue."
Severa looked around, seeing nothing but rope and brown leather all the way to the horizon. "Continue where?" she asked.
"To where my mother is," Morgan said, walking backwards. She was smiling, and one of her fingers danced to a tune that no doubt existed only within her mind.
The girl was having fun, and that rattled Severa more than any premonition could.
Logic dictated that their first destination should be Lucina's tent and so Severa and Morgan started towards it, weaving past groups of grumbling, laughing, and sometimes in the case of Feroxi, occasionally brawling soldiers. As this leg of their journey was rather lively in terms of other activities, the two didn't gather much unwarranted attention.
They were rather close to Lucina's tent when Severa saw the woman a dozen feet to the right, walking away from where her tent was supposed to be. She was dressed in Ylisse's blues and whites and, very curiously, had left her circlet home. Because of that, her hair ran long and free across her shoulders, giving way before the soft breeze that caressed the sea of brown canvas.
After a rapid moment of contemplation, Severa grabbed Morgan's shoulder and pulled her behind one of the tents next to them.
"Hey, what gives?" Morgan complained. She frowned and jerked away the shoulder Severa had yanked, flexing it. Her eyes fixed Severa with the cutest kind of a horrifying glare, one that would definitely fell a small insect.
Severa peered out before quietly muttering her answer. "Lucina is out there." Her eyes beseeched for Morgan's silence, or at least that she would lower her voice.
Apparently it didn't quite work, as Morgan's face turned tempestuous, her brows like storm clouds. "So why are we here, instead of there?" she asked, bitter tones to her voice.
The flame-haired woman sighed. Morgan was definitely trying to guilt-trip her. She cocked her head towards where she had seen Lucina, implying that Morgan should share onto what she'd seen. However, as Morgan bopped her whole head past the brown obstruction, Severa had to hiss a command. "Don't let her see you!"
Morgan stood still for a moment, and Severa made a curious observation; her friend could be sneaky if she needed to be. The woman continued apprising her friend's skulking mannerisms until Morgan turned back, her right eye closed and right lip creased upwards. She clearly had a talent for faces.
"She's… antsy?"
"And going somewhere," Severa said, adding to Morgan's conclusion.
The purple-haired girl smirked. "Now we are getting somewhere," Morgan commented, and her friend quickly grimaced.
"You just had to make a horrible pun out of it, didn't you?" Severa asked, though she didn't really want to know the answer. She peered over once more, looking for Lucina, and found the princess a bit further ahead, taking a turn out of sight and further into the labyrinthine maze of tents and people.
Severa contemplated again, and turned back, nodding briskly towards Lucina's position. Morgan's nod was slower, understanding what was requested of her.
They would now commence the stalking, and woe betide anyone who got himself in their way.
Well, that's a twist and a half, Severa thought, watching as Lucina slipped into the comfortable-looking tent before them. Its color was the same boring brown that the other people's tents were, but it was also clearly larger, probably meant to accommodate three or more persons in addition to their various furniture pieces.
The area around was void of activity. The only noises came from a distance and, upon reaching where Severa stood, became quite indistinct. She knew that Chrom had ordered the soldiers to give the tactician a good working space, and it showed; there were no people present - or if there were, they hid in the surrounding tents, wisely quiet. It wouldn't have been funny if one of the sergeants found them skipping on their daily drills.
Morgan, who had become rather giddy upon realizing what was up with her mother's suspicious behavior, snuck to the tent's side and found a pair of rainwater barrels behind which to hide. After settling down near them, she gestured her friend to follow.
Severa put her hands forward and around an imaginary throat, squeezing it hard. Morgan cocked her head sideways, supposedly not gathering the meaning of Severa's gesture. Or maybe she's trying to fool me into thinking so, Severa thought, planting her feet firmly to the ground, refusing to advance any further.
Morgan frowned, displeasure marring her face. Apparently this was supposed to be some kind of a surprise highlight in her day, and Severa was ruining it. Not that the woman cared. There was enough awkwardness in her family's relations without butting into Morgan's family business as well.
The disappointed little tactician's hands went to her chin and she caressed its tip a few times, much like her father was in the habit of. After doing so for a decisive period of time, her pouting faded and was replaced with a devious grin. She pointed at herself, then cupped her hands around mouth and pointed the self-crafted bassoon towards her father's tent. She glanced sideways, to Severa, and her eyebrows formed a question.
You wouldn't dare! Severa shouted mentally. Her friend was threatening to frame her guilty of disturbing the area's peace.
Normally, it wouldn't have been an issue for Severa. She knew she was something of a delinquent, always ready to speak her piece and verbally hammer someone down. However…
It was the crown prince's orders that had decreed this area a no-disturbance zone. And Chrom's army had strict regulations to accommodate the fact that there were people from so many backgrounds and ways of life. Sometimes the whip of discipline even struck the Shepherds. Morgan's prank would certainly give Chrom an excuse to figuratively brandish the rod, and the idea of getting caught in its wake bemused Severa.
She quickly snuck to the barrels and gave Morgan a fiery glare, promising to unleash her rage later on. Her friend grinned noiselessly and then raised her right palm. No speaking, it implied, and Severa obliged. She wasn't planning on getting caught.
There were two distinct voices conversing inside the tent; a low, deliberate one, and another, distinctly feminine and familiar. The tactician and Lucina, then, Severa quickly decided. She had heard Robin talk a few times, sometimes even address her directly. Mostly in a request to keep his daughter in line.
I don't think this was what he had in mind when he said that, Severa thought.
The owner of the deep, deliberate voice spoke. "We did not agree on meeting today." Though the voice was even, it sounded somewhat... nervous? That's how Severa would have put it.
"I know that…" Lucina answered, her voice unusually soft, gentle even. "It is just that with the recent happenings in the camp, I thought I would find you here. Alone."
Slowly, with each passing sentence, a new wave of flush washed over Morgan's cheeks, their contrast against the dull barrels clear in the grey daylight. Severa couldn't help but think their actions were a rather far shot from 'investigating' the crime in the camp. In fact, she doubted Morgan remembered the first order of their business at all.
Oblivious to Severa's thoughts, Morgan began rubbing her nose in a vain attempt to hide her expressions. Severa swallowed an incoming huff and pricked her ears to hear over the suspicious silence in the tent. Then footsteps sounded from where Robin had spoken from, stopping after a very brief period, having reached a position closer to Lucina's.
"You know…" the tactician said softly, "Your father will think I'll have a bad influence on you. I mean, you came here when the rest of the camp is a mess. That's... slightly questionable, wouldn't you say."
There was a rueful sigh so deep it made Severa want to scream, after which she heard a very thin *thump* as somebody was drawn into an embrace in a gentle and loving fashion. Then the tactician whispered in an even softer voice, "But myself… I don't mind." And that was apparently all he meant to imply in words.
As the voices in the tent shifted from quiet whispering to determinedly passionate kissing, Severa turned towards her friend and gestured a clear, gory cut across her own throat. Out, now! she mouthed, yet Morgan, future product of the union of the two people now locked in embrace inside the tent, looked at Severa and then towards the tent, her facial expression somewhat mesmerized and cheeks burning with an embarrassed fire. She took a deep, perhaps not so silent breath through her nose and then quickly moved her finger again to stop-
*tsih*
The tent before them went silent, the previously frolicking passions falling down dead in the chill anticipation of what was to come. Severa practically murdered Morgan with eyes that blazed hatred and spite. A pair of legs walked to the edge of the tent, brisk, perhaps somewhat angry. Then a voice called from behind the tent fabric. "Morgan," the gravely serious voice said. "Kindly leave. Now. And make some noise when you do. I want to hear you go." It spoke like a hammer to a nail.
Morgan and Severa looked at each other, and the girl lifted her hands to either side in resign. She shook her head, giving in to the demands. "Fine. We'll go. Sorry."
Something tapped the floor of the tent twice, indicating urgency. Severa and Morgan rose from behind the barrels, hastily moving further away from the tent while kicking ground, pebbles and an occasional grass tuft. They only stopped at a decent distance, turning to look once more towards the tent. It seemed peaceful and innocent, clearly not like something indecent were about to happen inside.
Having gazed to her fill, Severa turned to scowl at Morgan. Their staring match lasted for about a second, after which Morgan couldn't anymore face Severa's horrifying face of doom and turned away.
"At least it was kind of fun…?" she suggested. Her voice was full of disturbing hopefulness that puppies so often displayed, hopeful for pitiful morsels.
"Quite," Severa growled poisonously. "And I think I was supposed to rip your heart out one of these days. As in, right now." She straightened herself and assumed a menacing position, slumbering towards Morgan one step at a time, like a fell beast from the worst nightmares. Morgan grimaced, her eyes shifting somewhere past Severa. Even the monster act didn't seem to invite their focus, so Severa gave up trying to threaten her friend and instead turned around, trying to find that which Morgan's eyes beheld.
Some distance away, not out of earshot, there was a figure approaching the tactician's tent. Clad in distinctive whites and blues, the man signified Ylisse itself, though his slumped shoulders suggested he wasn't fine with the burden. He stopped at the tent flap, looking left and right before putting it aside.
Silence of the most sharp kind followed. Even back at where Severa and Morgan stood watching, the mood was so thick one could have cut her fingers on it.
Then voices erupted from within the tent in an unholy cacophony, smiting Severa's ears with their might. The most clear was Chrom's furious howl, crossing the entire yard and flooding over the rows of tents. "Why is our army's tactician swimming up my daughter's blouse?!"