Revenant The Night Before

Margarita Surprise rocketed out of her bed so fast that she nearly fell off the front of it. Only what she assumed was long practice at this did she remain seated, hand over her heart as it continued to pound at an alarming rate. Her head darted about, checking all of the corners of the room that she was renting from the inn at Sallah, but there was nothing there. She was alone. She had traveled back in time once again, having somehow managed to survive another near week. Thank goodness she had been laying down when whatever was causing her trips through time had started the process.

She swung herself out of bed and stood up, if carefully and slowly. She would be able to think about her future actions shortly, but there was one thing that she had to take care of before that. Something that she had to take care of that night — as far as she knew, there wasn't another chance at this in the loop of time she had to deal with.

This time though, with Bartido's unasked for help fresh in her mind, she remembered that he was going to be in the lobby before she got down there. Studious ignoring along with her magical disguise usually worked in this case, but knowing that she was going to have to do it was probably going to help.

As she descended the stairs she felt his gaze, and discovered that it was harder. She had, from her unique perspective, watched him die a scant few minutes beforehand. She hardened her gaze on the front door of the inn, with the hope that it might harden her heart for a few important seconds. It didn't, but it was enough for her to not end up looking at her old classmate.

She did, however, need to take a breather just outside, where no one could see her. She only paused for a few seconds, but it was enough for her to force her emotions back into check. Something she was starting to get used to doing, over the…

No, stop. Not yet. Later.

She strode off down the street that formed a T with the main east-west highway. Main Street. On her right was Sammy's garden, which was doing well. On her left was Astoria Waldorf's shop, which had already closed for the night. Margarita could see Astoria herself just inside though, sweeping the entranceway. Since Astoria wasn't the one person that Margarita absolutely had to talk to, the young woman didn't pause on her way. As much talking that she might want or have to do with Astoria, the first night was certainly not the time for any of it. At least not yet.

She refamiliarized herself with the look of the buildings before the fighting started in earnest once again as she walked. There was the stall where bread was sold. And there was the church; she could just barely see the steeple over the line of buildings to her right. A place that she wouldn't go unless she had to, though…

No. Planning later.

Once the town started to break off into single dwellings here and there, Margarita found her goal. A despondent boy sat in the middle of an empty field. He couldn't be seen from the road, but if she stopped and listened, she could hear quiet sniffs. Of course, having found him on this night a week beforehand, she was kind of cheating.

There he was, sitting in the middle of nowhere. Margarita approached as slowly as she could, taking careful steps around some mud even if she knew she was going to be messy as hell when she was done. She sat near — but not quite next to — the boy. A boy that had the most tragic role to—

Focus.

It didn't take long before the boy spoke. It never did. "I see bad things."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Margarita asked quietly.

"No. I can't stop." Incongruous as the statement was, Margarita nodded as if she understood.

"Well, how about we tell each other our names?" Margarita said. "I'm Gertrude." She already knew the boy's name, of course.

"There are many lies in this place." Oh how very true. But was that Cavan's way of accusing her of lying about who she was? It didn't really matter.

"I bet Aunt Amy is worried about you," Margarita said. "And Aunt Astoria. Maybe even Miss Siliam."

"Worry turns to anger."

"Not from them to you," Margarita countered, though only because she knew where to steer the conversation. She long knew that that wasn't what he was talking about. "Don't you want to sleep in a bed tonight? To be tucked in, safe from the worries of the world?" As young as he was, Margarita wished that he had no reason to worry.

"Safety is hard to find."

"Safe for the night," Margarita countered again, though this time to what he actually meant. Suddenly the boy looked at her, a little bit of the cloudiness in his gaze receded. A surge of relief coursed through the young woman as she smiled at the boy. "Ready to go home?"

Cavan nodded.

"I'll walk you there, then," Margarita said, rising and brushing the bottom of her dress off. It wasn't all that helpful, and even made her hands dirtier than they had to be, but it was a habit she wasn't able to avoid until it was too late. She reached out to allow the boy to take her hand and he did. For being in such trouble, he certainly was trusting of her the instant they met each week through.

That both helped and hurt.

As they walked back along the route that Margarita had taken through the town in the first place, she paid very little attention to the buildings that surrounded them. Instead, she studied the boy that walked next to her with a death grip on her hand. His eyes fluttered around, making sure that he knew where he was going and where everything was around him. The hand that was not firmly grasping Margarita's was balled in a fist that he held protectively over his chest. He didn't make a sound. This was the baseline he had, and if it was possible, she wanted him to look and act like this — or better — when she eventually left. It was when he was talking and making weird predictions and trying to let people know of the horrors that Sallah hid that he was doing worse.

As the two approached the Glamour shop, Margarita started to lead a conversation with herself, though ostensibly she was trying to get Cavan to talk. It didn't really matter what she said until Astoria noticed them, and Margarita was tired enough that she didn't really pay attention. She stopped saying whatever nonsense had come to her head when she heard the door of the shop open and the impressive woman stepped out into the street to join them. Then Margarita smiled with vigor she did not feel. "Excuse me, ma'am, but do you possibly know to whom this one belongs? I found him wandering on my evening walk."

"Yes, I know Cavan well," Astoria said. Her face was a study in contrasts; she was partially relieved at the fact that Cavan was okay, but also confused as to how he had wandered off. Margarita knew precisely why and how that set of emotions came to the older woman, but she wouldn't be able to explain how she knew.

Margarita tried to turn up the smile a hair. "Oh good. I would be happy to walk him to his house if you tell me where that is—"

"That won't be necessary; I'll take him," Astoria said, beckoning. Cavan disconnected from Margarita and headed straight for an embrace with the shopowner.

Margarita made a little show of blinking in confusion for a moment, before shrugging. "Well, it's clear that he trusts you, so I guess that's okay."

"Thank you so much," Astoria said. "Where did you find him?"

"In a field to the south of town," Margarita said. "I wasn't expecting to stumble upon him in the middle of a field like that." The first time, anyway.

"He likes to wander," Astoria said. "I'm sorry that he bothered you tonight—"

"Oh, no, it was no problem at all." She had only asked for it. "If I see him wandering again, I'll bring him by, then?"

"Ah, that would be fine. Staying in town for a few days?"

"Yeah. I have some business here. And I like to go on walks in the evening. So if he's wandering in the evening, I might find him again."

"I see," Astoria said. "Well, thank you again. And you can bring him to me or my apprentice. Oh, I nearly forgot! I'm Astoria Waldorf."

"Gertrude Silvaner, at your service." Margarita was glad she was using her most common alter ego for this town. It made it a lot easier for her to get those lines right. "Well, goodnight, Ms. Waldorf. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Goodnight."

It was only a short jaunt across the main road to the inn, so Margarita didn't have all that much time to think about how to get through the foyer of the inn again. Luckily, she hadn't met Bartido on the way back in any previous night, so it wasn't likely a huge issue. As much as she risked a glance at the dining area as she beelined for the stairs, she did not see him. Which was for the best. She had planning to do, and she wanted to get as much sleep as possible.