#savethetrees

      his  smile  is  wry.    ❛  man  after  my  own  heart  –––  you  do  know  how  i  love  shiny  things.  ❜    he  accepts  the  gift  with  the  the  light  touch  of  deft  fingers.  turning  the  stones  in  his  hands  to  see  how  the  opal  glittered  in  the  warmth  of  dying  sunlight,  julien’s  expression  couldn’t  help  but  soften.  this  man  would  ruin  not  only  him,  he  thought,  but  surely  his  reputation,  if  he  wasn’t  careful.  he  also  found  that  he  didn’t  quite  care.  that  should,  perhaps,  worry  him.  a  dreadful  thing,  that.    ❛  hurry  and  pack  up,  then.  we’ll  walk  back  together.  ❜ 

It’s the work of a few minutes to pack up -- namely, to deliver the various bones, hide, teeth, and meat to nearby vendors. He has a system worked out with a few regulars, which saves him the hassle of having to haggle; something Aurelio is none too fond of. Unlike Julien, who seems to take great joy in it.

It is not the cafe Zelda normally frequents. She is trying to branch out, you see. Prove that she is not set in her ways. Perhaps win a bet against a certain companion that she is not as stubborn as he says she is.

Either way. The mint tea here is terrible. Far too sweet and with an edge of metal that clings to the back of her throat. She’ll be damned before she steps back from the wager, though, so she sits, sipping her metallic tea, and watching the passersby.

She is jolted out of her thoughts at the stranger’s—no, not a stranger…

“Aurelio?” Zelda says, standing as the man approaches. She hesitates, equally unsure how to proceed. Finally, she motions to the seat in front of her. “Care for some tea? I can’t say I reccomend it.”

Aurelio seats himself with the air of a man who still hasn’t fully gotten used to chairs and is still somewhat suspicious that they’ll move or somehow break the moment he touches them.

Zelda’s blunt non-recommendation surprises a noise from him, half a laugh, more than he would have made back then. Julien really is a strange influence on him. “I suppose I’ll pass, thank you for the warning,” he says dryly. “Though I’m acclimating to tea. It’s very popular in Medinah.”

       the  sun  is  getting  hotter  with  each  passing  day,  but  the  breeze  in  the  market  sweeps  through  silks  and  carries  the  smell  of  spices ;  and  it  leads  julien  directly  to  the  man  he’s  grown  horribly,  sickeningly  fond  of  in  a  terribly  short  amount  of  time.  it’s  a  problem.    ❛  ha ha,  ❜    julien  intones,  leaning  against  the  stall’s  frame,  thumbs  hooked  into  the  leather  strap  of  a  belt,    ❛  hilarious.  ❜    and  disgusting,  he  thinks,  nose  scrunching  when  he  eyes  the  skin.    ❛  my  very  own  wild  man  –––  i  stopped  by  to  ask  when  you’d  be  home  for  dinner.  ❜    home,  something  he’d  never  thought  he’d  share  with  another  for  more  than  a  passing  fancy.  and  yet   –––    ❛  i’ve  got  a  bottle  of  arian  wine  with  our  names  scrawled  haphazardly  across  the  cork.  if  you  say  no,  please  do  understand  my  soul  will  be  crushed.  ❜

"I would never want to crush your soul,” Aurelio replies solemnly, apparently very much taking Julien at his absolute literal word. “I’m done hunting for the day, so yes, I will be home for dinner whenever it best suits you.”

He doesn’t miss the look that flits that across Julien’s expressive face at the word home. That part may be strange to Julien; the schedule is strange to Aurelio. Breakfast at a certain hour, traders arriving in another. People in Medinah operate under more specific times than merely light and dark. But there’s something... reassuring about it.

“If hides don’t appeal, then,” Aurelio breaks off, patting himself down to find and extract a rock from his pocket. Aurelio has taken to heart the notion of gift giving to show affection, even though the gifts may be a little unusual. An axe from beyond the veil, for one. This one is a round rock in two halves, cracked open to show blue and red opal in veins through the middle. “I found this. I thought you might like it.”

Aurelio never thought he’d see the day: he’s actually settling into city life.

Oh, he still doesn’t look the part. Julien has tried to get him into nicer clothing, the silks and jewels of the Medinah people, but has failed, likely to Julien’s chagrin. He still doesn’t act the part, either, but no longer does he scowl at people when they get too close, and while he doesn’t do things like have friendly chats with familiar faces around the city, he’s learning to, at least, spare them a more mild expression than forbidding.

So when he spots Zelda at a cafe, and decides to approach, he looks marginally more friendly. Slightly. A little. He’s trying, okay.

“Zelda,” he greets. He’s not exactly what one talks about in this situation. An apology for not being useful enough on their doomed mission? “It’s good to see you well,” will have to suffice.

Aurelio’s as surprised as anybody else when he makes the decision to go back to Medinah.

But when they’d gotten back through the veil, back to Caper’s Green, Julien had been there. He hadn’t taken off as soon as they’d left, he’d waited for them. Nobody has ever waited for Aurelio. Nobody has ever put that much thought into his existence, and he’s been just fine with that, mostly. But the gesture strikes him in such a way that he winds up offering, right there on the spot, to go back to Medinah with him.

(But not after a brief trip to the easterly wood. The black has advanced significantly. It breaks Aurelio’s heart that he has been so useless in trying to save his home.)

Now, a week into being in Medinah, Aurelio’s practical nature has served him well. He’d felt lost for approximately a day, and then had charged into desert hunting, monitoring local animal populations and picking off the too-sick or too-old or too-aggressive, selling meat and hides and bones to local markets. Dragging a crocodile found at a distant watering hole, that’s how he finds Julien in the city, bartering at a stall.

Aurelio’s smiling more these days. It’s still strange to him. “Care to stake a preemptive claim on this one’s hide?” A scaled knife scabbard, maybe. Aurelio could even make it himself. “I might even give you a discount.”

      Arkham’s jaw twitches, noting the book drifting past him out of the corner of his eyes. He knows the others are angry with him, that his rash decision has led to this, but he does not regret stabbing the son of a bitch, and given the opportunity, he’d do it again. His arms cross over his chest, steps cautious, not wanting to fall. “He would’ve done this anyway,” Arkham insists, frowning, “Look around, think about the spiders,” he winces, the image of the spiders spiraling toward his face rushing to the forefront of his mind before he lifts one hand, wiping over his eyes to try to shake it, “He’s cruel, he would’ve done this anyway.” 

It is interesting, seeing the party’s various reaction to Arkham’s rash action. Aurelio’s feeling somewhat Zen about it -- it happened, there were consequences, it’s time to deal with those consequences instead of looking back. He (mostly) understands why Arkham did it.

“Is cruelty the most accurate word for it?” he hums thoughtfully, keeping his eyes on the road. “I would have said... resigned, perhaps.”

        the  words  strike  him  as  something  he  can’t  quite  yet  place.  aurelio  is  a  mystery  –––  enigmatic  despite  reading  as  an  open  book ;  julien  never  quite  knows  what’s  to  expect  of  a  man  that  truly  speaks  his  mind.    ❛  nice ?  be  still  my  heart–––  ❜    he  scoffs,  playful  as  his  lips  curl,  wry.    ❛  careful,  dear  aurelio,  or  i’ll  blush.  ❜    yet  he  softens,  entirely  genuine  in  a  way  that  has  come  to  be  uncharacteristic ;  inspired,  he  supposes,  by  aurelio’s  sincerity.    ❛  i  suppose  it’s  a  morbid  curiosity.  i  may  be  a  thief,  but  leaving  your  party  on  such  a  sour  note  felt  a  shame.  ❜  

Morbid curiosity is certainly an apt way to put it.

Though they’d found the item they set out to procure, the mission nonetheless felt somewhat like a failure. Or maybe it was just Aurelio that felt that way. Two of them seriously injured, mysterious creatures. A basilisk Aurelio had been unable to tame. (He’s still annoyed about that). Julien’s light tone and dynamic expression strike an entirely different note than the other dour faces of the party.

“One never knows when one might need a thief,” he replies, and he knows it’s a thought that needs explaining, that he’s jumped a few too many sentences ahead, but it’s a sentiment he feels stands on it’s own. “In the caves, those who attacked are bearing the consequences. The subtle were the ones who gained us the reward. Maybe it’s best you stick around.”

“I’m surprised that you’ve followed us this far. I expected you to stay in Medinah, which I suppose I couldn’t have faulted you for. It was... nice.” That may be the first time Aurelio’s ever said that about any patch of civilization. “Interesting, to say the least.”

“I remain unconvinced that an item called the lover’s staff can help with our objective.”

Unconvinced is, perhaps, putting it mildly.

“Do you, at least, have any faith in it?”

They’ve been provided with apartments.

Aurelio’s been standing in the doorway of his for a good ten minutes after first seeing it, squinting in the room in deep suspicion. He doesn’t want to go inside. He doesn’t want to sleep on that bed. The place looks tidy enough that getting it dirty would seem some sort of outrageous offense, and Aurelio’s still got some spider goop on his gloves and dirt on his face and plant matter in his hair.

He’s never felt quite so lost in his entire life.

He catches sight of Zelda coming out of her room. “I--” he starts, falls silent, then starts again, “You seem to know the man that provided these rooms.”

“Have you made any progress with the book?”

It’s not the most polite of greetings, but Aurelio isn’t impolite for any specific reason. Though he hasn’t had much chance to speak with Azrael, he likes him just fine -- as much as Aurelio ever likes anybody, which, granted, isn’t very much. He sees the use for a scholar on this journey.

It’s the situation he has no patience for. This city, the black creeping up on his home, chasing after books that may not be of any use.

“Do you think it will be any help?”

Magic is not a domain that Aurelio particularly knows anything about, nor does he have much of an opinion on it. He’s never seen it done -- with the exception of recently, obviously -- and he’s never concerned himself with it. It wasn’t relevant in his life. Not until it became, perhaps, the only way to stop the black.

He doesn’t know how it works, but he had seen Adri gather some of the mushrooms from the deep roads. Aurelio supposed, then, that some spells required ingredients, and he’d quietly gathered some more, and a few other things on their trip.

In Medinah, he presents her with a cloth-wrapped bundle. “More of those mushrooms you gathered,” he explains brusquely. “Some crystal I was able to remove from the wall. Two intact giant spider eyeballs. I don’t know if any of this will help you.”

          admittedly  julien  had  been  laying  the  sweet  talk  on  a  little  thick  in  the  hope  of  free  wine  –––  he  was  a  regular  at  this  establishment  and  at  this  point  he  feared  if  he  didn’t  flirt  with  the  barmaids,  they’d  fear  he’d  taken  ill.  honestly,  he  has  a  reputation  to  maintain,  and  the  way  she’s  leaning  forward  just  so  is  quite  promising.  the  gods  julien  prays  to  know  he’s  not  a  penny  pincher  by  any  means,  but  it’s  been…  a  day.  he  deserves  to  be  thrown  a  bone  now  and  again  –––  or  to  steal  one  for  himself,  which  is  why  he’d  stolen  his  current  company  away  for  a  drink.  company  with  very  poor  social  skills,  it  would  seem.  entirely  fascinating  and  absolutely  delightful.

         ❛  six  indeed.  i’m  pleased  to  see  the  feral  forest  folk  can  count,  ❜    said  with  a  sly  smile.  truly  it’s  only  an  excuse  to  reach  across  the  bar,  and  lightly  lay  a  gentle  hand  at  the  other  man’s  elbow  in  apology.    ❛  meant  in  lighthearted  jest,  of  course.  ❜    julien’s  smile  is  as  easy  as  it’s  ever  been,  never  mind  that  he  very  well  knows  he’s  being  assessed.    ❛  ask  me  no  questions,  i’ll  tell  you  no  lies.  buy  me  a  drink  and  i’ll  tell  you  anything.  ❜    

“I don’t carry money.” It’s said dismissively, with the candor of a man who sees absolutely no use in the entire monetary system. Aurelio casts a quick glance at the board above the bar, which presumably lists what drink options the patrons can buy. It’s all just squiggles to him. “And I wouldn’t know what to buy even if I did.”

His gaze goes downward, then, to the hand at his elbow. He frowns. People don’t tend to touch him. None of this party have. People seem to think it’s a bad idea to grab feral forest folk. That’s generally the way he likes it. 

He assumes Julien isn’t going to drive one of those wrist blades into his elbow, though he’s certainly in a prime position to. He doesn’t think Julien intends to harm them, which, strangely, is more trust than Aurelio usually extends to strangers. Maybe the charming smiles are working on him. That’s vexing.

“What is the fox and why are you friends with it.” It’s worth a try, to see if Julien will answer questions without being bought a drink. It’s something he’s said a couple of times now, with a wink and a sly smile, but Aurelio has no idea what it means. “Is that a figure of speech?”

This party seems to attract new people like a carcass picks up flies; a morbid comparison, perhaps, but it seems apt. Aurelio has ceased feeling like a newcomer. Since his arrival, they’ve picked up Azrael, and now this Julien person, who seems entirely too charming and confident to be wholly real. Case in point: after the party had settled into their lodging, Aurelio somehow found himself getting dragged along to some sort of drinking establishment, and Julien’s chatting to a local, laying the charm on thicker than Aurelio thought possible.

Aurelio’s been staring at him for the past ten minutes, eyes narrowed.

“Six,” he announces thoughtfully, when there’s a break in conversation. “Not counting the throwing knives, and assuming those shapes under your sleeves are some sort of concealed, wrist-mounted blade.” Aurelio makes an expression like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself, exacerbated by the unfamiliar crowd and noise around them. “I’m impressed.”

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇  𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇  𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  alerts  her  to  aurelio’s  return   (   had  been  intentionally  stalling  sleep  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  group,  dagger  kept  close  to  her  side   ),  breath  expelling  in  quiet  relief  that  he’s  safe.   fingertips  still  upon  branch  at  his  comment,  and  there’s  a  minute  where  nothing  but  the  crackle  of  flames  fills  the  silence  between  them.

          he’s  perceptive  ;  ness  has  seen  that  in  a  multitude  of  ways  since  they  both  joined  the  company.   but  it  still  catches  her  off  guard,  and  she’s  not  sure  if  it’s  because,  aside  from  her  family,  she’s  used  to  averted  looks  and  crossed  paths  when  she  walks   (   don’t  go  near  one  cursed  by  the  black   !   ),  the  attention  he’s  paying  her  foreign.   or  if  it’s  simply  because  he  is  attempting  to  pry  at  a  subject  she  keeps  tightly  hidden  within  her  chest,  a  secret  known  only  by  one  other.

           ❛             i  can’t  shake  the  feeling  we  missed  something  that  night,    ❜   ness  figures  a  half-truth  is  better  than  a  lie,  omitting  the  reason  why  she  thinks  what  she  does,    ❛   i  just  hope  this  book  we’re  trying  to  find  will  be  able  to  tell  us  what  we  cannot  yet  see.    ❜

Ness, Aurelio gathers, is not one overly given to speaking a lot. She is economical with her words. He can sympathize; he’s had to do a lot more talking in the past few days than he has in years. His throat feels strained with the effort, so it’s something of a comfort to find a kindred spirit in that. 

“Neither can I,” he admits, one gloved hand resting over the opposite forearm, dotted-black scars hidden by his jacket. He’d seen shadowy figures that night, and yet, they’d left. What had caused the earthquake? Had he just been seeing things in the maze? It’s likely connected to the black, and yet, they have very few answers.

Aurelio doesn’t have a lot of faith in this book they seek, but he knows others do, so he will hope that their faith rewards them. “And yet, even if it does, the damage the black left behind will take decades to heal,” he muses. “I doubt this fabled book has any answers for that.”

          𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒  𝐀  𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒  that  hangs  heavy  like  the  thick  blue  cloak  around  her  shoulders,  thoughts  about  what’s  ahead  and  what  answers  they  might  find  occupying  attention.   she  can’t  seem  to  shake  the  apprehension  that  had  been  present  ever  since  their  ill-fated  attempt  at  finding  the  maze’s  centre,  the  sensation  of  breathing  stale  air  that  had  only  exacerbated  the  feeling  of  oppressive  wrongness. 

          eyes  follow  the  dance  of  the  flames  as  she  sits,  huddled  by  the  fire  someone  had  set  up  many  hours  before  as  darkness  drew  in.   there’s  a  twig  in  her  hand  she’s  methodically  stripping  of  its  bark,  and  she  watches  as  a  curl  floats  downwards,  only  to  be  consumed  and  blackened.   a  pause,  fingertips  stilling   (   was  this  their  fate  ?   )  before  nail  carries  on  peeling,  the  only  sound  the  muted  ‘  pop  ’  as  wood  continues  burning.

                            𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 :  @aurelio-amoranth  /  @graysonlangley​

No man’s land isn’t the easterly wood, but it’s a good sight more familiar to Aurelio than the party was. Here, there is no elaborate costumes and gilded halls, only what he is familiar with; nature, if somewhat different in form. The perpetual scowl he’d been wearing has already eased, and he’s happily made himself useful, pointing out easier paths on terrain and keeping an eye on their surroundings.

It’s so empty, though. No man’s land. Even animals seem to hardly dare to roam here.

As the others sleep or sit by the fire, Aurelio’s been roaming, scouting out as far as he dares, getting the lay of the land. When he comes back, only Ness remains awake, staring blindly into the fire. Aurelio makes his steps heavy, so he doesn’t startle her when he drops down to sit next to her.

“You seem troubled,” he notes. "You’ve seemed troubled for a while now. Since the maze.”

Zelda shrugged. Money was everything in the city, but she imagined it didn’t mean much in the forest. It was clear in the way she adorned herself that she was used to being draped in finery.

Then her gaze follows Aurelio’s and her grin widens. “I think you would look quite lovely in one,” she says. “Though…” she says with a pause, looking back at Aurelio. “I think an emerald would be much more your color than a red.”

“Emerald would be fine,” Aurelio says solemnly. “Better for hiding in the woods, though I doubt I’d make it far in a skirt that wide.”

If he’s joking at all, it’s impossible to tell. 

His gaze goes from the crowd over to Zelda, curious. She looks like she fits right in; her bearing is as regal as any of the regular guests. It prompts the question of whether she’s used to being in spaces like this, or just an excellent chameleon. It could go either way, he thinks. She’s certainly smart enough for the latter.

“So what is the purpose of these parties?” he asks, because he can’t help himself, he has to know. “I’ve never seen anything like this. The manner of dress, the food. It seems... excessive. And everything they’re talking about is... inconsequential. I don’t understand any of this.”