ioduanlogs | [May Catch-All] A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down~

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[May Catch-All] A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down~

Characters: Devin, Valdis, Kit, Zephyr, the Fool
Date: Backdated to mid-April-ish for Devin, throughout May for the rest.
Location: All over Aifaran.
Situation: Ranging from 'hi you should probably know that I'm never going to go to sleep again and here's why', to 'we need a therapy group stat.' Also some identity theft and finely-tailored coats thrown in.
Warnings/Rating: None for now, but at least one thread is going to get personal, so warnings in comment headers as they become applicable!

A: Devin | mid-April-ish, a few days after the park destruction | Oh, By The Way

Valdis has gone missing, and X is pretty sure there's nothing he can do to find her until she wants to be found. It's not ideal, and it makes him antsy, so he's focusing on the one thing he can do something about -- Devin.

For the past few days, whenever X isn't at the park helping to repair some of the damage, he's with Devin in the library, talking. He talks even and especially when Devin doesn't talk back. The bookcases are high, but Devin is better at staying within his own physical limits than X was fearing, and as a result X never has to leap up and help out. He does wince, though, once or twice, when Devin reaches a little far.

Once it's pretty clear Devin is completely healed (and that ability, both in humans and in people like Devin, will never stop being weird), X knows he can't put off the truth any longer. "Listen," he says after one short and companionable silence. "There's... something I need you to know."

B: Valdis and Kit | early May, after talking to Valdis on the beach | Therapy Group, Stat

Valdis has moved out of the Dreaming Bridge now. That's something X intends to do himself, eventually, but not yet -- nowhere near, if he's being honest with himself. He doesn't spend much time there to begin with, and since it looks like sleeping is not an activity he'll get to engage in again any time soon, there's really no point until he's saved up a bit more money.

But he still considers Valdis a roommate. And you don't need to be a reader to know when two different people could benefit from having someone to trust. So X sends both his roommates a message -- text for Kit, audio for Valdis -- in the hopes that Valdis won't keep ignoring him.

Meet me outside the Bridge. There's something I'd like all three of us to do. Don't worry, it's nothing bad.

C: Zephyr | mid May | Crime 1, Identity Thief

Well, X thinks as he stands and blinks at the poster on the outside of the Sentry building. At least this time it took three months for them to decide I'm a threat.

He feels more at home right now than he ever has. That's... something he undoubtedly needs to work through. Still, X can't pinpoint what might have caused this. The one thing he's done that he knew would make the authorities angry, he's already been punished for. Is it because of the park last month? Has someone worked out what he is and decided he can't be allowed to roam free anymore?

The longer X stands there pondering those questions, the more obvious it becomes to any onlookers that the angry, aggressive face depicted in the poster looks about as similar to X as a dragon does to a lizard.

D: The Fool | mid May | Commerce 3, But It's Bespoke!

X's weekly chats with the Fool aren't the only reason he suspects the Fool might be the one who's sent him this... frankly, beautiful coat. It fits X perfectly, which implies an attention to detail, and he can't help recalling the day he tried to climb through the cafeteria window and shattered the glass. He'd been wearing a coat then, nabbed for practicality, cheap and thick and entirely ineffectual against the rain. It would be just like the Fool to order a custom tailored coat right after that.

The problem is that, if he did, he doesn't seem to have paid for it.

So, with the tailor standing right there and very impatient, X tries to get the Fool on the yimo. "He's not very good with technology," X explains to the tailor. "It might take a minute."

"I'm telling you," says the tailor, exasperated, "no one called the Fool ordered this! You did!"

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Having a shadow at his workplace has been annoying at best. X is not the most terrible company, except for the fact that Devin prefers to be and work alone most of the time (or so he tells himself). He's had worse injuries and the hovering is pointless, to his mind. Often X is left to talk to himself as Devin feigns deafness, carefully keeping his expression as neutral as possible and only occasionally offering any real engagement. He does listen, however, and learn. It only takes a few days until no one would know he was nearly crushed to death by a Hellhound.

The lead-in garners a glance and a raised eyebrow from Devin as he slots a few books into place. "Why do I get the feeling that this knowledge you wish to impart will not be pleasing? You'd have said something sooner, otherwise," he remarks dryly, and gestures for X to continue.

X smiles wryly. "Well," he says, "it's not the sort of thing I like telling people with broken ribs, anyway."

Then he stops, and stays quiet for several seconds, because explaining this never ever gets easier. It makes him homesick for the readers all over again, for a large community of family members who never needed words or explanations to understand one another. But even this, right here, is different all over again; at least back home, X never needed to explain to anyone what a reader was. He isn't sure whether seeing that look of disgust a little later than usual is going to be better or not.

"I'm a reader," he says eventually, staring at the books on the shelf ahead of him. "It's a bit delayed. I didn't remember anything about Valdis, or you, right after it happened. Once I go to sleep, I... will."

Devin isn't certain what having broken ribs has to do with anyone's ability to receive information; he was just as lucid four days ago as today. Perhaps even more so, although he can allow for the fact that pain has always had a way of sharpening his senses, rather than dulling them, and that isn't the case for everyone.

His expression clouds with both bemusement and dislike for the direction X seems to be taking. "I wasn't aware I was subject to your abilities at the time," Devin begins slowly, processing his reaction to that in context of X's clear hesitation. "You don't seem especially sleep-deprived, if you haven't been sleeping since the incident in the park," he continues. A pause. "How much will you remember?"

Oh dear, that last question. X swallows, takes a breath, then turns to look at Devin instead of the books; this conversation deserves at least the courtesy of eye contact.

"Everyone is," he starts. "Subject, I mean. Everyone near me at the time. I can borrow whatever helps me survive, and the last thing I remember is being attacked by a large wolf." X still isn't fully clear on what happened, except for shapeshifting being involved, and when all is said and done he'd prefer to keep it that way.

"And... everything. I'll remember everything. Where I come from, we have a word for it -- we call it a person's universe. Your mind, your body, your soul, your memories, your past, your place in the world, your relationships, the changes you make simply for existing. Everything."

Everything.

Devin freezes.

What X is describing is among the most horrifyingly invasive situations that Devin has either heard of or been subject to. There is only one other being that can and has read him down to his very atoms, that knows him inside and out, and every moment of his life. The Spirit is, however, a god, a force upon which his universe turns, not a mortal man. Devin knows implicitly that his secrets will be kept, because they have to be, and he gave the Spirit that right long before he had a body to remember it with. There is a bond of immeasurable trust between them that Devin cannot forsake even if he wanted to, and no such bond exists between him and X.

Accident or not, X knowing him that intimately is a violation that makes his blood run cold and extinguishes any flame of anger that might otherwise have arisen. What remains is the naked instinct to run, which will do him no good. It's over already - once X sleeps, that's it. His secrets will be lost to him, as will his shields. Nothing will be only his any longer, and the fleeting illusion of safety that Aifaran has offered will evaporate.

Once X sleeps. Has he not, yet? It's been days.

"You have no right to that," is his feeble protest, barely audible in the quiet hush of the library.

At this point, X could probably count down the seconds from finishing his explanations until someone says exactly what Devin just said, nearly word for word. Silvanes said it too. And Liz. And Szandor. The only person who never said it, X had never been able to read anyway.

"I know," he says, equally as quiet. "If I could change anything about it, I would." He takes a moment, then: "but I don't need to sleep. Readers, as a whole -- we don't. If you don't want me to, and Valdis doesn't want me to..." X shrugs. "I won't. It's as simple as that."

The choice he always leaves, as much as it can be, to those he'd be so violently trespassing. There's only one time he didn't, and that... that was due to someone else's interference. It wouldn't happen here, not in Aifaran. He wouldn't let it.

There is less relief at that assertion than Devin would have expected or wanted. He barely knows X, and while he's been nothing but honest and amiable in their interactions, Devin still cannot find it in himself to trust the reader. One viciously traumatic incident of a friendly face masking a monster and tearing apart his life was more than enough.

And the Dreaming, Devin knows, has no qualms about exposing his deepest wounds. It's done so before, more than once.

"Don't." The vampire turns back to the books to renew his work, taking the barest of comfort in what are now familiar shelves and volumes. He's privately grateful for the training that keeps his hands from shaking. "As long as you're able. This world may not grant any of us that grace forever."

Devin looks very level. He sounds very level, when he turns away. X knows not to believe that, not least because anyone being so cavalier about their own universe is an idea so foreign as to be terrifying.

"As long as I'm able?" The conversation takes a surprising turn into unfamiliar territory, and X isn't sure what to think. "What do you mean? What can the world do?"

The laugh that escapes Devin's mouth is mirthless and bitter, a hollow-sounding thing. X hasn't been here very long, or he wouldn't need to ask that question.

"Whatever it wants," he mutters, barely keeping control over his voice. Books-- focus on the books, not what X may see of him. "The Dreaming has no qualms, what with not being a living thing with a sense of morals. It has a habit of... bringing to light what should remain in shadow. Secrets have no meaning, no matter your intentions."

X has no idea how to even begin processing what Devin tells him. The last little piece of control he has over his own magic, just... taken away from him? He can't imagine that. He can't imagine what that will do, to him or to Devin.

Devin still won't look at him. That might well be a taste of the future.

"Then as long as the world lets me," says X, "I won't sleep."

He hesitates, wondering if the follow-up might help as well. What he says to his friends, when they've agreed to be read and everyone knows it's going to happen eventually, the reminder that they won't be alone. Somehow, he doesn't think Devin will appreciate it, and X still believes it may not even be necessary; but at this point it can't hurt to try.

"When I say 'everything'," he goes on, slow and hesitant, "that means... not just memories, not just events. I can't judge you any more than I can judge myself. I can't add to the pressure you put on yourself, not when I feel it as intensely as you."

Control has defined so much of Devin's life, has been instrumental to his survival, and this place has too often stolen control from him. Whether by inches or miles, the loss of agency has left it's mark on many people here. Splendid and terrible, indeed.

Despite his horror at what X will learn, Devin listens. Some part of him is desperate to not have to hide; he is built to be with people, no matter how much he denies it.

But X does not deserve to bear his burdens. If-- when, Devin reminds himself forcefully, swallowing the lump in his throat-- X sleeps, an ocean of violence will crash down on him. He can't comprehend having to carry Valdis' life on top of his. The fabric of his life is woven with lies and bloodshed and isolation, and that is not a cloak that X should have upon his shoulders.

Too late.

"Judgement is not the real problem," Devin replies quietly, shaking his head. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. It doesn't help much. "I am a secret that shouldn't exist," he elaborates distantly. X will learn eventually how much hinges upon the fact that Devin does exist, to his dread. "My life does not belong to me, and so no matter what you absorb, it will not and cannot belong to you, either." He can't help the faint tremble in his voice now, whether it be from anger or fear. What and who he is came at the cost of surrendering his soul; he's learned that was his choice. How that will affect X, Devin cannot begin to guess. "That knowledge or understanding, or whatever you call it and whatever it entails, is extraordinarily dangerous."

He raises his eyes, and something ancient and endless can be seen there for just a moment - or perhaps the agelessness is just a trick of the light. "This world is no refuge from my fate; I carry it with me wherever I go."

Zephyr occasionally swings by to look at posters like these. There's worse ways to earn an income than bringing in dangerous people, anyway.

It hasn't gotten him anywhere yet. But he keeps his eyes open.

On this day, there's a sight to behold. This guy's been there a while, probably, judging by the confused staring. Zephyr leans in, looks at the poster. Looks at the person again. Once or twice more he repeats this, then:

"Huh. You got an evil twin or something?"

X jumps at the new voice, startled. Then he exhales sharply. "Asri, I hope not. But if that's what this is, then at least I know I wouldn't be the first."

He just can't see why else the poster would exist. Not, at least, without being extremely paranoid, and he promised Liz he'd try not to do that anymore.

He turns to look at his new friend instead, someone a little taller than he is, with striking purple eyes and the bearing of someone who knows exactly what they're doing even when they don't. An authority figure? X doesn't think so, but only because he's never known someone accustomed to authority to immediately assume he's innocent.

"Thanks," he says with a smile and a small grateful gesture. "For asking, instead of going off to report me."

"Asri?"

Zephyr shrugs it off, looking the person over again now that they're looking at him, not a poster. "I figure, anyone stopping to stare at a poster like it smacked 'em with a fish probably doesn't have a guilty conscience. If you were actually this person, I don't think you'd still be standing here."

It's an educated guess, sure, but it makes sense to Zephyr. "But it sounds like there's a story here."

X mentally fumbles and backtracks. "It's an expression," he says. How did Liz describe it...? "It's like -- it's like if I said god, I hope so. We just name the god, instead of leaving it vague."

Which, now that X is thinking about it, bugs him a little. Why wouldn't you name a god? It seems way too easy to accidentally curse yourself if you don't. Maybe that explains a lot about Earth.

"I'm not --" X starts, then gives in and shakes his head with a self-deprecating laugh. "I suppose it did... smack me with a fish. The last time I came across someone who looked like one of the Dreamfolk and turned out not to be, it didn't exactly end well."

Fortunately, Zephyr is not unfamiliar with the idea of gods having actual names. His expression clears, and there's a faint smile about this. "Specific gods. Got it. Seems more polite that way."

Sort of. He's just not going to get into it.

"Someone who looked Dreamfolk and turned out not to be?" Zephyr echoes, and his newness to the world means it takes him a minute to think about it and connect some dots. "Oh. One of the kedan? A shapeshifter?" His best guess, anyway. "Why don't we go somewhere no one else will leap to any conclusions before you start in on anything else."

It isn't really a question.

"Much more polite that way," X agrees with a surprised smile. He expected backlash, but he isn't sure why. Habit? Or maybe he's just pleased at a little validated reminder of his home, however far removed.

-- and his new friend has a point. They're on display here, right next to a wanted poster, and if anyone tries to start something, it could trigger X's trance again. That's the last thing he wants. That's the last thing anyone wants.

X steps away from the poster, suddenly much more mindful of his face being in view. "Do you have somewhere in mind?" he asks.

Granted, if you know the god you're addressing, there's a point where it comes back around to polite to use their title-- but a name is certainly better than yelling 'god' into the air. Imagine yelling 'human' when inconvenienced.

Zephyr flashes a quick grin in exchange for that smile, and then shrugs, falling into step with X. "I'm new around here. Lead the way."

Assuming, here, that someone who's been here long enough to get into trouble probably knows something of the area. "I'm Zephyr, by the way," he says as they go.

So it's true, then -- people keep appearing here, all the time. It's not that X didn't believe all the welcomers at the Dreaming Bridge, but seeing it for himself is humbling. Or, well, not seeing. Hearing for himself.

"X," he says, before remembering that's not usually enough. "That's me," he adds with a chuckle. "X. It's good to meet you, Zephyr."

There's a small cafe out of the way down the next street, so X heads in that direction with a gesture. "Down here."

It's not that Zephyr follows without question -- he's been around the block a few too many times to trust someone he's just met unconditionally -- but he has a good feeling and he doesn't feel like questioning anything.

Anyway, he was the one opting to believe X in the first place.

So Zephyr falls into step, pacing with long easy strides at X's heels, keeping half an eye for people who look maybe too interested. "Just X?" He's not one to judge other people's name choices, he just wants to be sure he heard right. "Nice to meet you too." He thinks. Probably.

"Just X." No one here has known what the placeholder means, and no one here has recoiled in shock or disgust, but X is fairly sure a part of him will always expect it. "There's a story behind it, but it's not a very interesting one."

At least, as far as he's concerned. It's a painful story. Not an interesting one.

"How new are you?" X asks as they approach the cafe he's thinking of. "Have you tried any of the local food yet?"

"I think stories are probably least interesting to the people they're about," Zephyr says wryly, but he lets it go; it's no skin off his nose. X is X, fine.

Zephyr shrugs, linking his hands behind his neck for a moment. ...And then opts to have a little fun: "No, not at all. I've been subsisting on the wind for the last two weeks."

"Oh." X glances at Zephyr as they walk. "Can you eat? There's a place down here that does some very good seafood, but if you can't eat, then..."

A very small, very new voice in X's mind alerts him to what he's missing, and he stops, and his smile turns self-deprecating. "... you're joking, aren't you."

Oh no, X thought it was serious. Is it his face? Is his deadpan just too deadpan?

Zephyr laughs when X turns to him, a little amused, a little sheepish. "Yeah, I'm joking. What clued you in?" And there's a sort of waving-onward as if to say don't let me stop you. He'd actually like to get to this cafe.

"I'm... still a little new to recognising it," X confesses, laughing along. "I'm still learning. But in my defence, there are plenty of Dreamfolk here who have different sorts of survival needs. It wouldn't be a stretch to believe."

They reach the cafe, and X holds the door open for Zephyr to go in first. He'd thought his day would go very differently when he first caught sight of the wanted poster, and if previous experience with his own luck is any indication, it still might; but Zephyr is observant, and optimistic. A new friend who didn't need to be told there's more to the story of the poster than meets the eye.

A thought occurs, and X laughs all over again. "You're not a detective, are you?" he asks.

"I suppose so." He'll admit there's plenty of different types of people.

Zephyr ducks inside when X holds the door for him, absently turning back to check if X has any intent about where to sit. Then-- "Where'd that come from?" he wants to know. "I mean, I've done my fair share of tracking and recovery and dealing with mysterious culprits, I guess, but I wouldn't say I'm a detective, no."

X has no intent about where to sit whatsoever, and is in fact waiting to see where Zephyr chooses to sit. This could turn awkward.

"It seems to be a popular career," X replies with a small shrug. "When a kin'nal girl went missing several months ago, I met a lot of Dreamfolk detectives. You were on point with the poster, so..."

At least the detectives X has met here in Aifaran seem, as a whole, more reasonable than the sort he's used to.

"Says a lot about a place that needs a lot of people solving mysteries." Zephyr watches X for a moment more to see if he's going to pick, then shrugs and goes to pick a seat out. Somewhere near a wall, preferably. Fewer people to keep an eye on.

"So what'd you get into that you've got a wanted poster, huh? You seem like you have way too many manners for that."

In X's defence, procuring a lavish and expensive coat for a friend and then conveniently forgetting to pay the bill is a perfectly Foolish thing for the Fool to have done. If he had done it. Which he had not.

When his yimo rings, the Fool is lounging in a chair near his bedroom window, braiding hair still damp from the bath into a plait over his shoulder and enjoying the warm summer air. Activating the device, he's in the process of muffling a lazy yawn against the back of one slim wrist when he catches the tail end of that conversation: "--I'm telling you, no one called the Fool ordered this! You did!"

He blinks. "...I've done what?"

"Ordered a coat," X answers automatically. Then he realises he's answered the Fool, not the tailor -- the Fool picked up! -- and quickly goes on. "I think you have, at least. Someone's brought me a magnificent coat, and now they're asking to be paid. I'm... I'm almost sure it wasn't me, and you were the first one I thought of."

The first one currently in Aifaran, anyway. There was a moment, when X first saw the unexpected package in the tailor's hands, that his heart leapt with the idea that his wife found a way to spoil him across dimensions. He was wrong, of course, and knew that right away, and things continued working as unfairly as they always did.

"I offer payment plans," says the tailor.

"Yes," says X with a smile. "I'm sure you do."

A bit of smiling laughter and, "How very like me," comes the Fool's reply, voice light with whimsy. With some reluctance, he swings his legs down from where he has his feet propped up on the window sill and crosses his bedroom to find something a bit more appropriate to wear out in public than his house robe. He tucks his yimo into the crook of his jaw and shoulder as he considers his options. (Hmm, shall it be turquoise or scarlet today? Decisions, decisions.)

"But unfortunately no, X, it wasn't me, either. Still, shall I come down to offer some help?" And see the coat in question for himself; he has to admit some curiosity now.

Edited 2018-05-08 13:24 (UTC)

"It wasn't you?" X repeats, now more confused than before. "Are you sure?"

... Silly question. As the tailor gestures emphatically in an I told you so manner, X shakes his head at himself and sits down. "Never mind, ignore that. Please, come down. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this coat now."

It doesn't occur to him at all that the Fool might be offering to help pay for it. Why would he, if he didn't order it?

Turquoise it is. The Fool drapes the elegant garment around himself and then goes to pin up his hair. "I have a few ideas, to that end," he replies lightly. "Give me some time; I will be over as quickly as I can."

Hopefully the tailor is content to wait for the duration of time it takes the Fool to hail a cab and zip across town; it doesn't take as long as it could have, but there is still traffic to contend with, as well as an inconvenient number of uncooperative stop signals. When he arrives, the Fool nonetheless tips the driver well, then hurries into the shop and looks about for X. He's fairly easy to spot.

"Hello," he says to his friend with an affable smile, an expression that doesn't dim in the least when he looks to the tailor. He has his wallet in hand. "Would you mind telling me the cost of the coat?"

"A few ideas?" X asks, amused. "If you're going to sarcastically tell me that wearing it is always an option..."

But no, the Fool apparently has something very different in mind. The tailor's perfectly happy to wait, as long as X doesn't leave his sight, so X spends the time waiting very uncomfortably under the man's gaze, wondering how he's meant to retrieve more money if he's not allowed to leave.

Then the Fool is there, and he has his wallet out, and X's heart jumps into his throat. "No -- no, Fool, that's not fair, you didn't order it, I don't want to make you --"

The tailor, completely ignoring X's protest, gives the price. He holds the coat out at the same time, as though the sight of it will help make its cost a little more palatable.

The price is steep; some haggling may be required. Nevertheless, the Fool interrupts X with an arch look. "You have not 'made' me do anything. But if you would like to be helpful," he adds, and gestures towards a slightly raised bit of floor in front of a mirror within the shop, "you might stand there." To the tailor, he offers a benign smile and remarks, "A fitting would not go amiss, surely."

The tailor, still holding the coat aloft, looks from X, who he has more or less been holding hostage, to the Fool. Who is now holding him hostage. (Sort of.) "I assure you," he begins, miffed, "this coat is a perfect fit. He has worn it already, he can attest--"

Guilelessly, the Fool replies, "I am pleased to hear it." Then he plucks the coat from the tailor's hands, steps lightly over to X, and holds it up beside him, considering his reflection in the mirror.

X decides that it's probably best to stick to what he usually does when he's confused by a friend and not sure what's happening, which is to stay quiet and do what he's told. As a result, he looks a little befuddled as he stands in front of the mirror, blinking at the coat the Fool holds up beside him.

It really is a beautiful coat. Thigh-length, fine woven cloth X hasn't seen or felt before, with deep red lining on the inside and a high flat-lying collar on the back. Every time he looks at it, he's enthralled all over again, longing in his eyes. Unfortunately, he also thinks of the price every time he looks at it, and the thought of the Fool paying it doesn't sit right.

"The tailor offers payment plans," X says to the Fool's reflection in the mirror, a feeble attempt at an objection. "I could manage that."

X's message said to meet him outside the Bridge, and so outside the Bridge is where Kit is at--though whether or not this turns out to be something good is still up in the air. True to form, Kit is taking slow, pacing steps to and fro beyond the bridge, working through what might be his second cigarette in the last thirty minutes.

Kit's showed up! The sight makes X smile, in spite of the cigarette -- one down, one to go. No sign of Valdis anywhere, and no messages from her yet either. Is it too early to press? It's probably too early to press. X isn't even sure how much pressing is allowed, given how they left off the last time they met.

"I might need your help," X says to Kit as he walks up, by way of a greeting. "With Valdis. I think she might be having a hard time deciding what she wants." He takes a deep breath. "How have you been?"

"...I think she might be having a hard time deciding what she wants."

Well that's an ominous opener. Kit angles his cigarette off to the side and makes an effort at wafting the smoke elsewhere, though how successful he is probably depends on which way the wind is blowing. "What she wants?" he repeats, giving X a slightly askance look; did he just step into the middle of a Personal Thing between his roommate and his former roommate?

As for how he's been, he lifts his shoulder in a shrug and takes another pull from the cigarette. Out comes a lungful of smoke. "Just trying to find a job that doesn't involve picking up dead sea animal parts on the beach."

"Yes," X says, nodding. "I don't think she's ever wanted a friend, which is tough, because I know she has them. But..." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I think any chance of my being one of them might have ended earlier this month. She needs this, and I'm not sure she'll accept it from me. That's where your help would come in."

If there is anything more to it than that, X sure doesn't seem embarrassed or ashamed.

Dead sea animal parts. He laughs. "Jellyfish, or octopuses?"

"Jellyfish, or octopuses?"

He guesses it is worth a chuckle, picturing a short guy like him trudging along the shoreline shoveling dead sea animals into a wheelbarrow. Kit chuckles some and lifts one broad shoulder in a shrug. "Hard to tell at this point," he admits, finishes off his cigarette, and chucks it down to the ground. He puts out the burning ember with one booted toe. "Once they've been out in the sun for long enough, they all just sort of look..." He pulls a face and makes a vague gesture with one hand. "...like melted versions of themselves. In soup." How appetizing.

Thus far, they still remain the only ones on the bridge, and with a haphazard glance around, he frowns a bit. "Think we should go looking for her?"

"How are you meant to clean up the dead animal parts if they've decomposed into soup?" X asks, semi-seriously. "You'd need more than a wheelbarrow and some pairs of hands, you'd need... well, you'd need a mop. At that point, why bother?"

Valdis never answered X's query over the yimo, and while X would prefer to give her the benefit of the doubt -- maybe she's left it behind for a bit -- odds are, Kit's right. They'll need to go looking for her. With a sigh sporting much more concern than exasperation, X takes out his yimo. "She didn't tell you what her new address is, did she?"

"...At that point, why bother?"

"Because I'm getting paid," Kit answers, chuckling. "It's a dumb as dirt idea, but I'm not in a position to turn down paying work right now."

Setting out on a mission to find a missing person--even a person who has taken it upon herself to make herself missing--is at least a task that Kit can get behind. At X's question, he grimaces and gives his head a slight shake. "No. Tell you the truth, I didn't even realize she'd moved out until you said something about it." A pause, before he admits reluctantly, "I'm not even sure where to start looking."

Maybe it's another cultural difference, but X doesn't understand why anyone would pay to clean dead animals off a beach. If it's a safety hazard, maybe, but once the effort of cleaning is more trouble than it's worth, why not seal the area off?

"I think I might," X replies, and sets about contacting all the relevant people. Devin first, because Devin is most likely to know, but also the one most likely to respect Valdis's privacy -- which he does, in the end, and X doesn't push. A couple individual messages after that, and he smiles at Kit. "When I found her the other day, the people I asked said they saw her with a white wolf. A white wolf and a small cat should both be distinctive enough to track her down, don't you think? I know the area to start in."

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[May Catch-All] A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down~

A

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C | oh boy oh boy

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D!

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B

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