"Ariadne would you put down the duck already," Kent grumbled under his breath. The poet bristled under the jealous stares we received from passersby as we walked.
"His name is Lord Quacky," I retorted sternly, "and he is happy I liberated him." I clutched Lord Quacky, a handsome, green headed drake, close to my chest with both hands as we walked. Lord Quacky and I had become acquainted just moments ago in the park when I had saved him from being bullied by swans.
"No," Kent snapped, "no naming of the duck. You always get too attached to things when you name them, remember the chinchilla, remember the God damn chinchilla?"
I grinned up at Kent gleefully. "Mister Smudgkins!" I paused in a moment of reflection as I recalled my plump, coal grey friend. "But what happened to him?" I queried sorrowfully.
Kent leaned across me to glower at Romero who walked calmly on the other side, whistling as he carried a bag with the glasses, bowls and spoons that had substituted for buckets and spades. "You don't remember? Say, Romero, remind her," Kent said with a slight sneer.
Romero paused in his whistling and his neck turned a faint crimson. "Er...zealous zombie mistook him for dinner," he admitted quietly.
I let out a wail of despair as the memory returned. I had not witnessed the dreadful deed, it had been left to Isaac to break the news. I remembered my golden eyed lover lamenting that 'the rodent had fallen bravely to a terrible foe' and how I had been devastated when there had been no body to bury. As I recalled, we had instead had a funeral with stones in a matchbox to represent my deceased friend and a three night period of mourning had followed. Ash and VV had complained until Ginger had reminded them that they liked to wear black anyway and Kent had remarked that Ash was in an eternal state of mourning so it would be no trouble for him to add Mister Smudgkins to his list of things to sorrow over.
"You can't have pets, now let the duck go," Kent urged.
"No, he's not a pet," I protested, "he's my new friend and he's quite happy to come with me."
Lord Quacky let out a joyful quack in support of my argument.
Kent halted and gripped my right arm pulling me to a halt. "Look what will happen if you don't let him go." He gestured to the left.
I followed Kent's hand to a glass window full of horrors. I let out a shriek and a cry and Lord Quacky flapped against me and quacked wildly before he escaped and fled from the horror. Naked poultry adorned the window hanging limp and bloody against it.
"Lord Quacky come back!" I cried out as I gave pursuit of my feathered friend.
"Kent you can be a real dick sometimes," I heard Romero grumble before he started running too.
"Stop chasing, it's just a damn duck!" Kent called in despair.
I followed Lord Quacky down several alleyways and side streets passing numerous startled natives. Club goers, students, prostitutes and gang members alike parted with shouts and curses for the duck running by them and the woman who followed. I appreciated that they understood my plight. We passed a building that had the scent of soap and perfume seeping out of it and another block with dance music pounding loudly from it. Temptations were everywhere but I resisted each one and wondered if I might get a bonus crystal for my efforts.
As we ran the noises grew quieter, the streets wider and sparser. Eventually, we reached the warehouse and market district and Lord Quacky finally came to a halt amongst crates and abandoned trucks. He walked up a set of stone steps cautiously to a steel door that stood suspiciously ajar leading into a building marked in blue and yellow font as the Golden Oceans Fish Market. It was the beginning of every good horror film and I wondered what lurked within- masked madman with an axe, wailing woman in white robes or judging by the stench perhaps the vengeful ghost of a dolphin with a net face. The salty odour of dead fish was strong and almost nauseating.
"Very good Lord Quacky," I praised quietly, "you found the fishie." I moved towards him slowly and as I neared the door I became aware of the sounds within of fighting, the battle cries of a young woman and the snarls of a fish demon. It was the fantasy come true of every arcade game player.
"Hang in there Yukie I have some nickels to get you another life," I promised as I checked my pockets for coins.
I was seized suddenly from behind without warning as two arms wrapped about me tightly binding my own arms by my side. "No you don't!" Kent protested crossly.
Lord Quacky let out a startled cry and fled into the building.
"No!" I protested as I started kicking backwards against Kent's legs. "He'll be fish food! Let me go!"
"Stop kicking me!" Kent snarled. "It's just a duck! You have it with noodles!"
I let out a half-choked sob as my eyes turned damp at the thought of Lord Quacky being devoured by the fish monster. I kicked back stubbornly again and again as I tried to wriggle free.
"What's that noise?" Romero quipped coolly. He stood by my side and leaned close to the ajar door with a suspicious look.
"Who the hell cares?" Kent grumbled tiredly. "We built sandcastles and now I need to feed again and I am not chasing after something that belongs in a pancake. OW!" He yelped in pain as I tugged my arms free and drove both my elbows back against his stomach.
Kent staggered back and I seized my opportunity to tug out the samurai short sword concealed in a holster at the side of my jeans beneath my jacket. The sword, a wakizashi, was a gift from Kent who had murmured that swordplay was something I was usually good at save for when I got carried away and, in his words, torn too many things to ribbons.
"I'm coming Lord Quacky!" I cried out as I entered into a large warehouse area that reeked of dead fish. They were mostly packaged in ice boxes save for the few swordfish and sharks that a monstrosity neither fish nor man had decided to rip out to use against the schoolgirl he battled.
Yukie stood half-doubled over and panting hard, sword in one hand, and blood soaking her face and staining her white t-shirt. She looked badass but really she was no match for the ten feet tall shark man that battled her.
"What in the flying fuck is that?!" Kent exclaimed in horror. "My God it stinks in here! God I can almost taste that, that smell better not cling to me."
"Kent worry less about the fish smell and more about shark man," Romero advised calmly.
BANG!
It didn't take the grave guard very long to decide that the shark man must be foe and not friend.
The beast staggered back with an angry cry as a bullet struck its chest and it shook its hammerhead in protest. Sadly the wound did little more than annoy it.
"How does it see?" I wondered as I looked as its yellow eyes curiously. One eye was on the right and one was on the left, divided by a long nose that was shaped like the head of a hammer. It was at once ugly and beautiful like the glittering rainbow poop of a unicorn. "Or breathe? Does not the fishy need the water to survive? We're going to need a bigger boat I think."
Kent let out an angry groan. "Save the references for later," he grumbled as he tugged out his pistols. He ducked and darted to the left in a blur just in time to avoid a flying swordfish. "Hey!" he snapped in annoyance with a gesture to Romero. "He's the one that shot you!"
The shark man let out an angry snarl before plucking up a dogfish.
"Thanks Kent," Romero grumbled. "Not like I can dodge as fast as you." He raised his shotgun again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Kent and Romero fired unanimously, Romero from the front and Kent from the left, pelting the shark man with bullets.
"His skin is too tough!" Yukie informed us. "I couldn't even scratch it!"
"We need explosives," I suggested gleefully.
"Sure Ariadne just whip out some TNT then," Kent retorted sardonically as he narrowly dodged another fish.
I frowned and murmured, "I would if you hadn't made me stop playing boom boom blow up." The wind suddenly rushed out of me and I let out a cry as swordfish smacked hard into my torso and sent me back to the ground with a grunt as pain flooded through me.
I rolled my eyes backwards as my body was frozen in pain and made out the upside image of Lord Quacky taking refuge in the shade of a crate. With effort I struggled to push the swordfish off but even with the additional strength of a ghoul it was difficult.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
There was the thudding sound of heavy feet charging hard and fast as the shark man took a run at Romero. I made it upright at last and ran to the shark man with a squeal. "Smile you son of a bitch!" I cried out before I rammed the point of my sword hard into its left eye.
The hammerhead reared up as the beast wailed and I let out another yelp as a rough skinned greyish-blue fist caught me hard across the right cheek and sent me back to the hard ground.
BANG! Romero avenged my fresh wounds.
"It's blind now!" I heard Kent cried out before his cold hands ushered me up from the ground swiftly. "Silly kid," he chided, "you're still mortal so take better care, we'll be lucky if you aren't concussed." He hastened me back to Yukie with both hands on my shoulders.
"Let me finish it," Yukie begged, "it killed my master."
The creature had wrenched my sword free and abandoned it to the ground and was now stumbling about chaotically, clutching its ruined eyes with both hands and wailing in pain.
"Sure, take all the credit," Kent said sarcastically.
"Kent don't ruin the story of revenge," I chided. "Now time must slow down and dramatic music should play and then Bill will appear!"
Kent sighed with a shake of his head as he kept a loose grip on my shoulders.
Yukie ran forward suddenly with a dramatic yell. "For my master!" She leaped with her sword raised in both hands and slashed out with it at the creature's throat. It looked impressive right up until the creature's left arm blocked her and jutted outwards, forcing her back fast and sending her flying into a stack of wooden crates.
BANG! BANG! Romero ended it at last by sending two bullets into its open mouth and turning its mouth and throat into bloody chunks.
With a spew of blood and a strangled gasp the creature finally fell dead to the ground. Romero paused to holster his gun before walking over to retrieve my sword. He halted and looked Yukie's way curiously. When the schoolgirl let out a groan of pain he moved in her direction.
"What about Lord Quacky?" I quipped worriedly.
"Is that this thing's name?" a voice queried icily.
Kent's grasp tightened on me suddenly and we turned as one to face the new arrivals. I wished very much that I hadn't. "Crack the egg and devour the knowledge, demon of demons, man who is not man," I murmured.
"Hush Ariadne," Kent bid me quietly but sternly. He moved me to stand behind him in his shadow.
There were three foes that I could see and two that I could not. One unseen to guard the now shut door, one invisible lingering behind us near Romero and Yukie, and three together, two to frame the misshapen knowledge master between them. The Tzimisce creature who held Lord Quacky hostage in its clawed grasp.
"It seeks the ancients too," the voice purred. "The Aralu grow popular with the damned."
"Here to catch some fish, worm?" Kent queried brazenly.
The Tzimisce let out a frosty chortle at this. "This seems an odd venue choice for you Toreador," he remarked softly. His voice was light and musical, no doubt a beautiful, maddening torment to his victims. "Greasy walls, damp floors and a stench of rot, doesn't such uncleanliness drive you mad?"
Kent tensed and suppressed a shudder but he could not resist raising his hands to rub about his shoulders as if trying to dislodge filth there. "What do you want?" he demanded.
"The mad slave," the Tzimisce answered fiercely.
I stiffened at the word and let out a whimper. "No name, lick the feet for your supper and smile at the whipping," I murmured.
"Wrong kind of market," Kent retorted, "this is for fish not slaves."
"Do not toy with me poet, I would enjoy scarring your pretty face far too much. I seek the slave trembling behind you, the stolen property of my fallen ally Valyrion."
"Master," I choked out, "master is dead but master was always dead."
"He's dust," Kent growled out, "and her owner no more."
"And so his spoils come to me," the Tzimisce replied. "But how do you know he is dead? Was it you that killed him poet? For that there must be punishment." There was a strangled squawk and a snap as Lord Quacky's neck was broken.
I let out an angry scream at the sound just as all hell broke loose.
They came from all directions- claws, teeth, bats and wrenches- two Nosferatu, one Gangrel and two Tzimisce came for us.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The air filled with gunfire that echoed loudly in the warehouse. Romero tried to protect the unconscious Yukie whilst Kent tried to shadow me. I lashed out with my sword but I was far too slow. They were too many and we too few and weak. Even Kent's speed had its limits and he was tired from our battle with the shark man. I wondered how long our new foes had waited for us, suspicious that they had watched our fishy fight, waiting calmly for it to tire us out and make us vulnerable to them.
Claws slashed my left arm to bloody ribbons whilst beetles worried at Kent and a Tzimisce cornered Romero.
I watched in horror as the Tzimisce waved its hands and attempted to perform the discipline they were best known for- the unholy, reshapening of the flesh. Romero let out a scream I did not think him capable of as his right arm twisted and shifted against his will prompting him to drop the shotgun. With another scream he turned from his foe and ran before he was knocked to his knees by the side swiping kick of a Nosferatu and left whimpering and trembling in a ball on the ground. I turned cold at the sight and felt my heart throb against my chest as my throat constricted and helplessness washed over me. I missed the power of the madness then, it could conceal this horror for me and wash insanity over the perpetrators.
I felt the grave guard's pain as his nightmarish memories were made reality, it was a fate I had suffered often. How cruel a bitch fate could often be.
"Stop Dr. Frankenstein!" I pleaded as I ran to the Tzimisce master who now had his clawed hand grasping at Kent's throat.
The Tzimisce was not so tall as Kent but had him bending so that he was beneath him. Kent's pallid hands grasped tightly at the Tzimisce's claws trying and failing to dislodge the hand that gripped his throat so tight it was bleeding.
"I...I..." I stumbled over the words. I wanted to be brave, the knight who saved the day with a noble self-sacrifice but my knees were knocking together. I could taste master's whip cutting across my lips and feel his claws sinking into my skin to brush against bone and twist my form about until I squealed secrets.
He tilted Kent's head up and raised the claws of his left hand above his face. "Say what I want to hear mad slave," he purred at me, "or I will mark the Toreador's pretty face." He pressed a claw down on Kent's nose and stroked at it lightly. "And it is a pretty face, tell me Toreador, am I pretty too?" The Tzimisce gave a ghoulish smile at this.
"I...I..." I stammered.
Kent smiled back mockingly. "No, you're an fucking ugly bitch," he answered merrily.
The claws went down and Kent let out a squeal of pain as five lines raked down in bloody red diagonal streaks across his face.
"Say it slave or I will use my gifts to ensure the marks stay," the Tzimisce vowed.
I dropped to my knees and looked up to the beast for mercy. "Master," I choked out. "I...the wolf is mine now." I could feel master wolf curious and concerned and shut him out. He had perked up an ear upon the first signs of distress from me but I did not want him here. I couldn't have master hurt, such a deed would earn me a thousand punishments!
The Tzimisce sniffed and cocked his head to give me a look of disgust. "Is that the familiar smell you bear filthy bitch? Dog and musty books! Name your master for me, let me hear the truth." He wriggled his bloodstained claws above Kent's face and let the blood drop onto his skin in messy drops.
Kent let out a pitiful groan of disgust and shuddered as his face was stained again.
"Beckett," I confessed. The betrayal stung on my tongue and I waggled in an effort to rid myself of the bitter taste.
The Tzimisce smiled. "My old foe, so he must be near then. I wonder, will he grace me with his presence when I take you? Could he face me for you?"
There was a bang as the metal door was kicked in and then a cloud of smoke as three smoke cannisters were activated but sadly no genie.
"We've found the vampires!" a voice announced dramatically. "Prepare for battle!"
Kent seized his moment to break free from the Tzimisce's grasp and jam his gun close and up into his gut. BANG! He let out a shot deep into the creature's gut tearing away leather and skin.
The Tzimisce staggered back with a grunt as blood seeped out of the wound fast.
This time it was worse than hell, perhaps one of the circles Dante talked about only it wasn't unbaptised babies and greedy Popes but a circle of crossbows, guns and hunters all clad in black.
I had scarcely time to take in this new chaos before gunfire filled the air again and Kent seized me about the waist and dragged me away in a blur. He stopped by Romero and reached down to him tenderly, daring to delay for a surprising moment of compassion.
Kent squeezed the grave guard's right shoulder and leaned down to say, "the nightmare is over Romero. Come on, grab the girl and let's go. Follow me to the back wall, behind the crates and climb up, I'll break a window open."
Kent and I moved again in a blur. I heard the glass shatter but did not feel it, instead I felt the sudden slicing of cold, fresh air as we fell through the smashed window to the hard ground below. Kent tucked me close to him and rolled to lessen the below. We spilled across the pavement ungracefully and before I could catch my breath he had me on my feet again.
He looked anxiously to the broken window and paced about impatiently, his fingers twitching as his hands brushed down his stained leather jacket rapidly. I knew he was fighting the urge to rub at the blood smears on his face and I knew the desire to be clean was going to overwhelm him soon. Toreadors were a prideful clan but Kent had more of an aversion to mess than most.
Romero eventually appeared with a limp Yukie under one arm, he looked down with uncertainty.
"Throw her down!" Kent snapped impatiently.
I smiled and waved encouragingly.
Romero obeyed, tossing Yukie clumsily before he jumped after. As Kent caught the semi-conscious schoolgirl Romero landed in a tuck and roll.
The grave guard stood up with a muttered curse and glanced back to the building with a wary look. "Can we get the fuck out of here now?" he quipped wearily. He had fresh cuts and bruises budding on him and I couldn't resist reaching to touch a swelling lump on his right cheek. He recoiled from me and swatted down my hand.
"Not now," Romero muttered with a hint of unease in his voice.
"Let's head back to Isaac and the others," Kent said, "quick before they follow."
It was easier said than done. Late as it was the streets were still busy forcing Kent to stay at a mortal's speed but as he was carrying a barely conscious schoolgirl he still had to take precautions to stay in the shadows lest someone get the wrong idea. I'm not quite certain what the wrong idea could be, what was so wrong with a vampire carrying a vulnerable schoolgirl who hated demons to a den of strange vampires and ghouls?
We turned a corner and almost collided with Beckett and Isaac. I fell to my knees, placed my hands above my head and cowered. "Don't beat too harshly," I begged. "The monster knows where the wolf dwells, two seekers of knowledge and this poor slave between."
"What happened young one?" Beckett queried calmly.
"Indeed, what happened and who is that?" Isaac asked, his voice calm but full of suspicion.
"Sabbat," Kent spat out hatefully, "some Tzimisce fuck was leading them."
"Master's friend no...old master's friend new master's foe," I babbled with a frustrated shake of my head. "Everyone is linked on the chessboard. I betrayed master, I feared the misshaping." I shuddered.
"Sascha?" Beckett made an intelligent guess as to what I was trying to say.
"We need to get back to base," Kent insisted, "don't want them following us and finding where we sleep at dawn."
I felt the leather of Beckett's gloves press gently against my hands. "Young one I felt your fear and pain, I understand."
"No," I groaned, "I am Judas, I gave you up. I gave you up at promises of pain, I did not try to endure the hurt."
"Hush now little one," he murmured, "the fault is not yours." He let out a soft sigh. "It is not easy dealing with ghouls and I am sorry to have made one of you. Come, we'll go back."
I whimpered and sniffled at his words. "Bad ghoul, bad ghoul," I muttered. "Disappointment, daddy always said, mad little Sarah, quiet now, don't play with blood, don't answer the voices."
Beckett gripped my hands lightly and removed them from my head and urged me to my feet.
We made it to sanctuary and safety just after two in the morning. Yukie was left alone in a single bed to recover in peace whilst Kent fled to the bathroom to deal with his bloody face. An hour passed and eager to relieve my bowels I headed for the bathroom door. Hearing sobbing from within and spying the door ajar I pushed against it gently and peered in.
Kent was seated on the edge of the bath, both hands rubbing at his face frantically in a blur of movement as he sobbed. There was already a collection of bloodstained towels and cloths gathering at his feet but the bleeding had not ceased.
I lingered awkwardly in the doorway for a moment unsure what to say until I sensed someone else beside me.
"Let me by," Romero ordered quietly.
I obediently stepped to one side, allowing Romero to open the door fully and step into the room. "Jesus Kent you're making it worse," Romero chided quietly. He halted before the vampire and reached out to his hands. It took him a few tries before he caught the speedily moving hands. He held them fast and tugged them down.
Kent's face was still scratched and now the skin around the wounds was blistered and red from Kent's rubbing at it. "I'm ugly," he choked out, "and messy, and I can't clean it! God I keep trying to clean it but then the towels get dirty, so much dirt and blood," he lamented.
Romero let out a laboured sigh and lowered Kent's hands to his lap. "Let me do it then," he offered. He turned to the sink, snatched up the remaining cloth there and ran it under the tap for a moment.
I was transfixed, caught between wanting to help and yet not wanting to disturb. I wondered if Kent might only grow embarrassed if I entered.
Romero turned his attention back to Kent and reached out with the cloth, dabbing it gently along the scratches. "It's healing fine," he assured, "by tonight it will be gone and you'll be your usual pretty asshole self again."
"Are you sure?" Kent snapped as he looked at the ghoul anxiously.
"Certain," Romero assured. He leaned closer to Kent to scrutinise the wounds as he mopped up fresh blood, letting the cloth linger where the wounds were deeper. "You didn't tell Isaac I lost my shit," Romero murmured.
"No," Kent murmured, "but why should I? It wasn't your fault, we were ambushed."
Romero shook his head. "One attack from that thing and it all came flooding back and I was useless. I lost Jaime Sue, he's noticed that but he's not prying yet."
"He won't either," Kent retorted, "Isaac knows better. Don't beat yourself up over it Romero, I lost it too, those Tzimisce fucks, well we've both got an ugly past with them..." He tensed and suppressed a shudder.
I felt like I was intruding watching the pair, this moment between them was odd- no insults, no gripes or arguments, rather a moment of understanding. I saw the pieces of a jigsaw but could not quite slot them together. Kent was always so annoyed at Romero and I...I'd never really understood why...
Kent leaned up and turned his head slightly but Romero withdrew. Kent's eyes filled with hurt and he scowled. "Aren't I ugly then?" he queried savagely. "Why then do you withdraw?"
"You know why," Romero retorted hotly. He looked my way at last.
Kent followed his gaze and for the first time I saw envy in the poet's grey eyes. "Pretty, mad, little Ariadne," he addressed me bitterly, "who can compete with you? Who watched him while you were gone hmm? Who kept the grave guard company while you dwelled in mortal misery?"
"It was one night," Romero protested as his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassed memory.
I didn't know what to say and for a moment even the voices were silent.
"I need to pee," I piped up at last.
Kent let out a snarl of frustration before pushing Romero back and standing upright. "I'll clean it myself," he snapped. He rushed past me so fast I felt a wind blowing back my hair and then Kent was gone from us.
Romero sighed and rubbed at the back of his head awkwardly with his right hand. "Kitten I don't know what to say."
I gave the grave guardian a sweet smile. "You understand my sharing of graveyard beds and baron coffins, why should I complain?" I retorted.
Romero gave a half-smile at this. "Right, well I'll let you...er...you know." He stepped out of the bathroom.
I stopped him in the doorway and leaned up to give him a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "If you like him it's okay," I assured softly, "I will not turn green."
"I er...I didn't...I mean..." Romero shuffled off awkwardly. "He's still a pretentious dick."
I stepped into the bathroom, shut the door and gave into a mortal need. For a brief moment I was fine, at peace at last but then I rose to wash my hands and found a horror looking back from the mirror.
I do not know when the screams started or how long they lasted for. I did not even realise I was cut until my hands slipped along the damp floor and I saw red. There were shards beneath me. The mirror was broken but I could not recall when or how.
"Young one calm down." As if a switch had been flicked I calmed and quietened at Beckett's words. I realised then that I was on my knees on the bathroom floor, smeared in blood once more and taunted by a hundred tiny reflections. "But no image is the true one," the voice mocked.
"What happened?" Beckett queried.
I tried to recall and a shriek of fear erupted from me before I could help it. "In the mirror, the reflection of evil! Dead master! Come to enslave again, to drag me to the seeker to crack the head for answers."
"Ariadne it must be a trick of your mind," Isaac piped up gently. "Perhaps a reaction to the events earlier."
"He killed Lord Quacky," I wailed, "one snap of the neck. If it were so easy but I survive the pain, I linger on."
I felt Beckett's leather gloves gripping me, pulling me up and away from the shards. I felt his glowing eyes upon me, studying me curiously and quickly. "Mild scratches, nothing serious," he murmured. "A dose of my blood and it will heal with the rest."
I let out a groan of pain. "He will chase the mad mind until he wins, he wants the old dead in the desert."
"We can talk of that this evening," Isaac said gently, "you need to go to bed and rest."
"Not alone," I begged, "please. Let me stay with one of you, so that if they come you will feel the claws snatching and hold me steadfast. Please, please."
"Of course," Isaac assured with a tender smile. He reached out and drew me from Beckett and pulled me close against him. He ran his hand down through my hair before stiffening slightly. "Ariadne you're shaking," he said in horror, "please calm down, I won't let them harm you, I swear."
I burrowed against the baron, desperate to believe him but it was hard. I knew too well what the Tzimisce were capable of.
"Perhaps we should find more comfortable confines?" Beckett suggested dryly.
"Indeed," Isaac agreed.
The baron manoeuvred me with him until we were in the living room and seated upon a couch. There I stayed shaking and burrowed against him, terrified that when the dawn came I would be alone and vulnerable.
"Perhaps a tale to take your mind off things," Beckett offered. He sat on the single chair opposite, ever the loner.
"A tale?" Isaac echoed.
"It's not something I usually indulge in," Beckett admitted, "but I feel her fear and find it very distracting, ending it will help us both."
"Sorry," I mumbled, "sorry master wolf, sorry, sorry."
"Young one I did not say it to upset you further," Beckett retorted, "do not apologise. Anyway, let's see er...Once Upon A Time, isn't that what you like?"
I perked up at this and turned my head from the Baron's grey shirt to look at Beckett hopefully. "There was dinosaur?" I queried hopefully.
"Quite so," Beckett agreed.
"And where did he live?"
"In a Creataous jungle of Cycaeoidea, Podocarpus-"
"You're not good at this are you?" Isaac interrupted sardonically.
I stifled a giggle at Isaac's mockery and Beckett's offended gaze.
"I am not a storyteller," Beckett retorted defensively.
"Have you no experience with any stories?" Isaac questioned.
"No," Beckett grumbled, "I deal with facts not fables."
"A jungle of tall trees and rivers and unicorns," I decided, eager to continue with the tale.
"Oh now really," Beckett protested, "where do I begin?"
"You've already begun," Isaac reminded him.
"I meant with pointing out all the flaws with unicorns," Beckett retorted moodily.
"It's a story Beckett," Isaac reminded him. He sank back in the seat and pulled me with him to lie back against his chest comfortably. It was cold and no heart beat there nor did it rise with breathing unless he chose to fake it, it should have been unnerving but I found it comforting as it brought back many memories of being in the Baron's embrace. I was safest here and the voices were always silent here.
"I am not telling a story about dinosaurs and unicorns," Beckett huffed as he folded his arms and scowled.
"Please," I pleaded, "I like it already master wolf."
Beckett frowned at me. "Oh alright," he gave in, "but I will deny it. Once upon a time there was a dinosaur in a jungle with a unicorn, which is utterly ridiculous and completely impossible but I digress."
"What was the dinosaur's name?"
"What?"
"His name?" I demanded.
"Who said it was a he?" he retorted moodily.
"It is," I insisted.
"Young one I see now why people insist your madness is contagious," he grumbled. "Alright, his name is...Bill."
"Bill?" Isaac echoed. I could sense his grin without needing to see it.
"And what name would you suggest?" Beckett queried heatedly.
"What kind of dinosaur is it?" Isaac pried.
"A bloody Allosaurus alright!" Beckett snapped. "No more interruptions, his name is Bill damn it!"
"And the unicorn?" I piped up quietly.
"Fred!"
I smiled and snuggled up against Isaac, shutting my eyes as I let poor Beckett attempt to continue his storytelling.
No excuses, the ideas are always there but it's hard to get them out sometimes. I love writing Kent :-) I've been hinting at him and Romero for a while now. I also like Beckett the Storyteller. And poor Lord Quacky.