Fleo Plector – Countryside
With Amaya sliming her way out through the window and Nolan departing the vehicle as well, Fleo was only too happy to relieve herself of the carriage's security. Though still assailed by concern for her comrade's well-being, the dusty woman could not repress her gratitude for the journey's end. Her magenta eyes scanned the duned horizon, then a frontier town blended with the sands by wear and age. It stood, a cluster of buildings huddled around the road upon which Team Powder Keg had arrived, dually a sentry against whatever thirsty vengeance might sweep up from the barrens beyond and a last resort for those courageous enough to test the ruthlessness of nature. Fleo fell into line without complaint when Nolan ventured to play the leader, having learned from numerous past experiences her ineptitude at calling the shots, and was the first person to reach the dry, withered town of Reezun.
The town's name she discovered etched in a signpost, albeit one tilted such in the loose, infertile earth that she had to bend over to read it. Without thinking about it, Fleo slipped loose one of her bandages, which snaked around the little post and pulled it upright. With the job done, it rejoined the rest of its fellows on her arm, covering again the sliver of a secret she'd just absentmindedly bared. Even then, it hadn't been wholly a thoughtless act; the inch-long smidgeon of dust momentarily revealed looked enough like skin in this light to fool even the perceptive observer who might have managed to catch the sight in the first place. Without much hesitation despite so strange and rustic a locale, Fleo continued another hundred feet to the town center, where two women were chatting by the well.
“Hi there!” She beamed, and the women, while not convinced enough to return appropriate friendliness, still nodded politely. Fleo took this as clearance to keep talking.
“My friends and I are on the trail of a murderer. He's a wizard who uses sand. Can you tell me anything?”A minute later, she had been redirected to the shack of a man who had actually seen the rogue mage, for indeed, that ominous person had passed through these parts. After being cordially invited in by and introduced to the man, a scruffy-bearded old minister, Fleo listened with acute interest to his tale. He offered more information than she had expected; after witnessing the oddity of the rogue wizard, he had apparently taken a worried interest, and visited several contacts throughout the reason in his own quest for information. All that he had managed to turn up he imparted to Fleo, whose cheeriness succumbed to uncharacteristic solemnity.
“Wow...I oughta tell the others. Thank you for your time!”The minister bowed slightly.
“Yer welcome. Please, when ya find this feller, tread with caution, but not with fear. I can tell from yer worldly aspect that you're a person with the ideals of truth and spiritual beauty in yer mind. Keep those close in yer learning and even in yer fighting, and ye'll surpass any poor soul whose spirit lies bound in meanin'lessness. Take care, Miss Plector.”“You too, Mr. Hemwick!”Rather pleased to have met such a conveniently courteous and helpful individual -they did exist in this world, after all!- Fleo sought out her allies, now likely done with their chores.
At first, it appeared that Joshua's remark had gone utterly ignored. Then, as he chewed, Nero raised his hand and a single finger in the universal gesture of
hold on. After swallowing, and delaying the conversation another cheeky handful of seconds by gulping down his wine, the genie turned to face the man who interrupted his meal, the smile on his face dissonant with the downward slant of his eyebrows.
Before he could reply, James interceded. For a moment Nero sat there baffled, his mouth frozen half-open in mid-speech, before he recognized exactly what the silky-brown-haired man had done. Protection of others was a phenomenon arising either from necessity, attraction, or pity, and as much as Nero wanted to indulge his ego he felt only one was the case here. He wanted nobody's pity; if he took their feelings of sadness, they made him weaker. Nero recoiled as Jarvis tuned in to the act as well. This was too much. Even if their intentions were pure, they should be able to see what a disservice they were doing him.
“Hey now,” he chided,
“I can fend for myself, you two. You've got some good points, though. I can say whatever I want, and what you said was...extremely rude. But it sounded like a wish to me, and wishes are what I do best!” Nero took a bite of carrot, crunched it up quickly, and swallowed. He then pushed the plate away, and it scraped across the counter with a note of finality. His smile was wide, and his tone flighty, as if struggling to carry a laugh.
“If you wanna cut short these dulcet tones, why, you'd just have to knock me off my stool. It'd be pretty easy, too, strong-looking fellow like you, skinny runt like me. Then I'd give you all the silence you'd want! Tehee.”
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