crux_fleet | (no subject)

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The problem with allowing Kevin to explore any market while unsupervised is that sooner or later he will stumble across one gambling den or another, which may or may not result in him being chased by burly individuals a little too eager to fold him into pretzelian shapes. It is not that possessing a knack for estimating probabilities and having God on his side could ever be counted as cheating. It is just that rational explanations and assertions of fair play tend to fall on deaf ears when one's listeners have been stripped to their underthings.

Honestly, some people just don't know when to stop.

Not that Kevin himself is stopping any time soon. After a few twists and turns, one ruined spice stand, three turned trashcans and one stomped cat's tail, he is crashing right into you. Yes, you.

'Excuse me! Excuse me!'

The reason for his haste becomes quite apparent when a group of very angry beings belonging to a surprisingly varied selection of species turn around the corner. In compliance with universal protocol, they are also shouting and waving weapons in a most menacing fashion. A rather impressive feat, considering that they are, indeed, stripped to their underthings.

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It is a sign of Kevin's current state of distraction that he notices Emily's voice before Mister Break's. The result is a matching shriek and a flailing angel who is very much on Emily's personal space.

'IT IS NOT WHAT YOU ARE THINKING!'

"A little taste of something sweet, and you want the whole pie. Or the whole bakery, from the looks of things."

Break very helpfully kicks over another fruit stand, just as he yanks Kevin into a small alleyway. The angry, naked horde runs past, following the commotion. They're out of immediate danger, for the moment anyway.

"But I must say, I'm impressed. Whatever did you do~?"

Terrible bakery and pie references aside, Mister Break is still his hero. Kevin collapses against his side and giggles softly. The shame! And yet he had so much fun!

'They thought they could win everything back if they betted together against me. And...since they didn't have much left, the croupier suggested the clothes on their bodies. Hm, I think I might have taken them a little too literally?'

"Mister Cecil."

It's fortunate for everybody that Break has learned from his experience in Las Vegas, i.e. do not further incite an angry mob whom Kevin has just fleeced.

"Has it ever occurred to you that you might have a tiny bit of a problem?"

This is the most innocent face.

'A problem?'

Does Mister Break think he is sick? He is a little bit less energetic than usual. But he has a warm coat now. He really shouldn't worry!

Break makes a show of rolling his eyes, and punctuates his reply by poking Kevin squarely in the chest.

"That's right. A problem. You've been here less than a fortnight, and already you're earning yourself a reputation. This isn't a big city. At this rate, nobody's going to play cards with you, and then what're you going to do?"

Dice, he was about to suggest, but then realizes what Mister Break is trying to say. Oh my, that is a real problem. The city is a little too small for this sort of thing.

'Perhaps if I could make them less angry...'

He reaches for the adorable hand poking his chest. Maybe he should feel a little embarrassed.

"Well, for starters, you could —"

One of Kevin's victims pokes his head in at the end of the alleyway; and the rest of them appear at the other, shouting for blood. What a fine time to be holding hands, honestly. Break reaches for his cane.

"Looks like I've got to earn myself a reputation, and break some heads, or..."

He doesn't voice his thoughts, but he does look straight up. There's a thin glimmer of artificial sunlight filtering down into the alley; the rooftop looks to be about ten stories up, at least.

Mister Break's angel looks dutifully horrified at both suggestions, letting go of his cute little hand as if it was on fire.

"Mister Break, I am not doing that in public!"

By that he means, of course, flying, though his "victims" might arrive to their own conclusions. Regardless, there is a chance he has made his point a little clearer by spinning around and kicking one of them in the face.

This city is full of lizard people, gigantic mechanical men and tentacled eldritch horrors. A flying butler is hardly likely to raise any eyebrows. Break is about to voice that opinion ("you could say you're a sort of bird") when it occurs to him how Kevin's remark actually sounds. He leaps back, blushing and sputtering, "That's not — "

Well.

He had other observations to make, specifically to the point that this place, unlike Exsilium, actually has a well-organized political, military, and judiciary system. Getting into a fight is liable to end badly for them, particularly as they are new arrivals. Beating a hasty retreat would have been the best option.

Except now Kevin has just kicked somebody in the face. Someone who'd only been shouting at him before. There's nothing for it; Break swings his cane, opening up a path between their startled pursuers, and yanks on Kevin's arm to draw him through.

He was about to question why Mister Break was blushing - usually, that is his job - when he feels the tug at his arm. Oh well, he doesn't mind retreating, and somehow the two skinny males seem threatening enough to cause the pursuers to hesitate. Kevin, of course, thinks that is mostly Mister Break's doing. He does have an unhinged feel, doesn't he? And the fact that Kevin himself has just kicked a guy in the face certainly has nothing to do with that.

He keeps up with Mister Break, running as fast as he can with his long legs, managing to turn around the corner just before his former playmates come back to their senses and start shooting lasers at them.

'Mister Break, I am a little tired! What do you think about going back home?'

He can hear the blasts of energy weapons, which remind him of United Earth soldiers. It's enough to awaken Mad Hatter, who whispers to him. It's mostly mad ravings, but the gist of it is that he could reduce his pursuers to piles of dust. How tempting it would be, to vent all of his (and Mad Hatter's) rage at being forcibly thrust into that situation, and now this one. He could turn and kill everyone...

Kevin's voice draws him back to himself. Hatter made him miss a step, so he staggers, clutching Kevin's hand to keep his balance.

"Are you sure, Mister Cecil? Surely there's another gambling den around here somewhere."

Kevin doesn't need to look at Mister Break's face to sense Mad Hatter surfacing. It startles him quite a bit and he is about to interfere when it is suddenly gone. Feeling the missed step, Kevin supports Mister Break so he won't fall amidst the shower of lasers. His hold is firm, but as soon as the man recovers his balance it becomes gentle again, a thumb rubbing comforting circles on Mister Break's pulse.

'I guarantee you, sir, there is no need. '

He never stops running, leading Mister Break through dark and narrow alleys, trying to lose their pursuers. As soon as they are out of sight again, he sheds his veil, his beautiful wing almost too big for the cramped path between the market buildings, his warm and bright presence a sharp contrast to the accumulated trash cans and little scavengers.

Edited 2014-02-16 06:38 (UTC)

Kevin's — no, Uriel's unveiled presence is impossibly bright. Break had been able to sense it even when he couldn't see; now that he can, it's difficult to look at directly. That and the heady sensation of flight (he'll never get used to it) is nearly overwhelming.

Which is why he squints and whinges, querulously complaining, "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

He strokes Mister Break's hair, bringing his face closer to his good shoulder. The flight is short, and as unnatural as one would expect from any one winged creature, almost like floating but for the occasional flapping of feathers in the wind.

Alighting on a rooftop, he looks down at the market bellow, the wind blowing on his attentive face. His closeness to the edge should be clue enough that he is not afraid of heights. In the fake sunlight, he is even brighter, his suit now a pristine white with black lapels and cuffs. He offers Mister Break the brightest and most unrepentant smile.

'God's power is not something to be revealed so casually. You should know that better than anyone.'

He'd been about to suggest once more that Kevin claim to be an alien avian ("You could say you're a swan — no, that sounds conceited. A snow goose perhaps, or a black-crowned night heron. Oooh, I know: a stork. Or a pelican?"), but he knows that it's not only Uriel's brightness that gives him away as a creature not of this world nor any other, but also that ineffable sensation of divinity.

It isn't the sort of thing to be revealed casually; it is the sort of thing for which a person might count himself blessed, if he experienced it for a single instant in his life. It's the sort of thing that makes one feel that one's existence is worthwhile and precious — even if one has managed to cock things up royally.

He shuts his eyelids and smiles half-way, his features in repose. The blasts of energy weapons seem far away, and Mad Hatter has settled down.

"Well I'm glad I ran into you, anyway. Something I wanted to talk to you about."

Once Mister Break's well-being is assured, Kevin sits on the rooftop, dangling his legs off the edge like a child. He doesn't look much different from all the birds Mister Break is thinking of, except that birds don't smile that way. The reason for his happiness is not the crazy amount of money he has just won, nor the fact that they have just escaped being shot by lasers. This divine being is definitively pleased because there is no need to hide. He can be whoever he is around this most peculiar human who has dared accept him into his life, and that is the most amazing feeling in the world. Who needs the sun? He will bask in Mister Break's affection while it lasts, and he will be grateful for every single moment of it.

'Good heavens, sir. Don't you think it is too soon to have your nails filed again?'

He sputters in mock annoyance, "That's always your idea," before alighting next to Uriel on the rooftop and leaning against him.

…

It’s gone. Uriel’s brightness and divinity had almost been sufficient to obscure it; and Break’s own discombobulation at being brought here distracted him. But now, leaning in close, he notices what has been missing all along, since the moment they both awoke on the Teuberg. Whatever he had been intending to say flies out of his mind as he asks, seriously:

“Are you all right?”

'It was not my idea to give you such charming little hands.'

The question takes him aback. No, he is not all right. Solomon is dead once again after being tortured by him, young master is nowhere to be seen, and only God knows when they will meet again. The void, anxiety and guilt left by that single precious soul are nothing but unbearable. Truth be told, he almost misses Michael at this point. Moreover, he is more than a little worried about what will happen when they approach the next solar system. He feels cold.

However, Mister Break's concern is really sweet, and further proof that he is no longer alone. The fact that they are still together after Exsilium is no small miracle. And so instead of retelling the obvious tale of his losses, he raises his pale hand towards the artificial sun, allowing Mister Break to take a look at the yellow rays filtering between his nontransparent fingers.

'Unless you are planning to discard me for not being a proper heater, this is nothing that cannot be solved by thick coats and longer nights of sleep. You may also reconsider getting terribly hurt for the time being.'

Edited 2014-02-19 10:28 (UTC)

He sputters, drawing his hands up inside his sleeves. His annoyance at having his hands called "little" is short-lived, however; Uriel's sadness is palpable and such a contrast to his thoughtless happiness just a moment before. He gazes at the artificial sunlight, uncomprehending.

Uriel's power is diminished, that much is certain. But why? He recalls the angel having been ill on only one other occasion: immediately after the bombing of Exsilium. Uriel had called it by another name, then.

"Did something happen to Britain?"

Unceremoniously he flops on the roof and lays his head in Mister Break's lap. He was not lying when he said he was a little tired and Mister Break makes an excellent human pillow.

'Good heavens, I hope not!' That would hurt. 'Sister Rosette has theorized that it has something to do with the sun. Our sun, that is. I do not believe I have ever been this far away from home. Perhaps things will be a little different once we approach someone else's solar system...'

He offers him a bright please, don't worry smile.

'I thought you had something to tell me?'

Yes good, he is completely taken in by Stepford Smiling, strong work Kevin. Break shifts and murmurs, making small noises of annoyance ("what a bother") whilst at the same time absently stroking Kevin's long hair.

"You draw power from the sun? Haha, you always were a tender flower, but I had no idea you practiced photosynthesis."

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