oathshackledbird | SoulGemmed Mailbox

You overestimate my number of allies. Besides, you'll be able to tell I've keeled over by lack of further contact.

[Laurent, that is so not the point.]

Do you want me to come with you?

[It is too Diarmuid, screw you.]

Unless you can be in two places at once, I want you to stay with Maribelle. Are you free to receive her now?

As you wish.

[He really, REALLY doesn't like it, though.]

Yes, I can. Will you make sure to contact me when you get back?

Good. We'll talk more in person.

[Fifteen minutes later, there comes a knock on the door. Guess who's here with his hooved baby?]

[Diarmuid sighs when the response text doesn't even have a 'yes, I will' with it. At least, they will talk more. When Laurent arrives, he will find that Diarmuid answers the door with a warm greeting for his fellow magi and a carrot in his hand for the lovely four-footed lady.

Who's a good horse?]

[Welcome abroad the Getting To Know Laurent as a Person Express. It's not a fun ride.

But hey, Maribelle is totally stoked for carrots!!!!!

Her human, on the other hand, seems surprised to be greeted decently. He pauses, responds with an awkward nod, then retrieves his prickly asshole script as he hands Diarmuid the reins.]

I’ve- written additional notes on Maribelle’s routine, they're in the pouch tied to her saddle if you find yourself needing it. If you're that eager to do me a second favour I can have you on a call when I go in. Where’s Mac?

[It's a good thing that Diarmuid is so patient.

He nods to acknowledge he has heard and then takes the reins with his free hand, careful to keep the carrot where Maribelle can easily reach it. Before the knight can answer Laurent's question, though, a suddenly flurry of fur bolts through the open door behind Diarmuid.]

And, as if speaking his name summons him...

[Why yes, that would be Mac an Chuill suddenly sitting at Laurent's feet, tail wagging excitedly as if to say 'You rang?']

Hey. want to see a magic trick?

[Diarmuid’s patience is about to pay off, in the form of a horse demolishing the carrot in his hand and Laurent crouching to speak with his dog at eyelevel.

Laurent holds his empty hands out and, with a flourish, produces a bone made of ice from thin air.

To Diarmuid, as he plays with the dog:]

Any last complaints?

[Diarmuid is distracted from Laurent and Mac for a few moments when the horse takes the rest of the carrot from him, but his attention is quickly drawn back by the dog's happy woofs.]

New trick I take it?

[As he watches them play, he smiles, though his next words are serious.]

No complaints, just a question. You want me to listen in on a mirror or a phone? Which is easier for you?

Phone. If I want every magi to come laugh at my inaptitude I'll send out invitations. Anything else?

[Diarmuid raises an amused eyebrow.]

Suddenly not so confident, I take it? Are you sure you don't want me to come along? Mac can keep an eye on Maribelle.

I do not need you to play another Dame-

[The words are the recoil of a dog that's been accidentally stepped on, who cuts off his yelp to look around not knowing what had happened. Laurent hastily turns his face away, as if he'd revealed something.]

If something happens to the both of us, Maribelle cannot wait the week for you to come back. I will not negotiate that any further.

There's nothing else from you, then.

[He reaches to pat his horse- avoiding Diarmuid's eyes- and turns to leave. If you want to stop him, do it quickly.]

Oh, but I think there is.

[Diarmuid's hand is still near the horse, so it only takes him a second to reach out toward Laurent to try and grab his fellow magi's arm in an effort to stop him from leaving.]

You would think that by now you would be used to me actually caring about what happens to you, but apparently not since whatever I said just upset you. There is no way I am letting you walk into that deathtrap upset! Who is this Dame you started to mention?

He’s dead, like all the others.

[Only possibly, but he's not ready to discuss January- least of all with this advice-giving, infuriatingly supportive not-Damen. Fuck supportive men. Leave his feelings alone.

Laurent's voice is calm, the only sign of his earlier recoil in the stiff tension of his arm. Maribelle, sensing the hidden wrongness of things, whinnies and shies nervously.]

I know what I'm doing. Let go.

Wh--

[The word only gets about halfway out of Diarmuid's mouth before he is hit hard enough with a realization that he lets go of Laurent's arm in surprise.

Not 'Dame' as in a woman's title, but 'Dame-' as the beginning of a name. Of...

Could it be the man from January's dream?

For a moment, Diarmuid feels sick. He didn't intend to pull forward such a painful memory. He was just worried.]

I'm sorry. I mea--

[No, he's not going to make this worse.]

I'm sorry.

[ He gives no indication that he's heard the apology. Like a man fleeing a fire Laurent moves away as soon as the grip on his arm releases, out the gate, not looking back. ]

dumgepn boardef up do nit call

Edited 2017-05-08 14:41 (UTC)

[Diarmuid is brushing Maribelle when the text comes in. At first he is relieved that Laurent didn't go back on his promise to contact him, though how mishmashed the spelling of the text is doesn't let him feel that way for long. It takes him a few moments, but eventually he puts together a reply.

Hey, Laurent said 'don't call.' He never said, 'don't text.']

All right, I won't, but we do need to talk. ... Don't make me hold your horse hostage. I will.

[Of course, she will be the most spoiled hostage ever, but the threat still stands.]

[It's potentially suggestive that Laurent takes the threat seriously despite all evidence of Diarmuid's character pointing otherwise. He'll be back in ten, but in the meantime here's a none too happy text.]

And I thought knights were above that. How long before you mail a hoof to my door?

[Oh come on, Laurent. He's joking. Mostly.]

Generally, we don't, but we also don't let a possible winning strategy go ignored. Why would I send a hoof to your door? It would be a waste of a perfectly good hoof. No, the hoof stays on the horse where it is suppose to be.

[Though, if the horse leaves too many...ahem, deposits...around some of those may just find their way to a certain someone's doorstep.]

[Um, no. He's dealt with too many serious threats to take the risk; but he's beginning to suspect Diarmuid has mistaken “hostage” for “hosting”.

Ten minutes later, there's a sharp knock on Diarmuid’s door. Laurent's not up for chitchat this time, his arms crossed, his blue eyes implacable. He looks like a man braced for a fight.]

Horse. Then we talk.

[There is a small chance he has done just that. Okay, maybe more than a small chance considering what greets Laurent when he arrives back at the house. Diarmuid opens the door and waves him inside. Though Laurent won't likely realize it, the house has been rearranged, sporting a new door which leads outside to a largish courtyard that gives Maribelle a nice place to run and do all the horse things she wants.]

Your horse.

[.............................]

You have no idea what 'hostage' means, do you.

[Diarmuid laughs under his breath giving Laurent a look out of the corner of his eyes.]

Of course I do, but I see no reason why your horse should suffer because her owner is being difficult. Besides, hostages are just guests that can't leave of their own free will. It is dishonorable to treat them anything other than civilly.

[He has no freaking clue.]

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