grab compromise by the throat

Not once, out of all the times he leaned against the glass display cases or found himself being playfully swatted away from them, did he actually look down to see what was in them.  His eyes occasionally went to the plates the other guests carried around but they had sandwiches and other things in the savory family.

At the mention of getting treated, Darqa gave up on trying to be a respectable early-morning Mancer and enveloped Milian inan excited hug. “Dude, I love you!” To underline her point she fistbumped his shoulder, then crowed happily, “If you were waiting for me to say that I totally appreciate your chivalry but couldn’t possibly let you pay for all the awesome food I’m going to eat -- well, you’re out of luck! Hah.” 

She’d treat him the next time around, of course, but for now she was incredibly satisfied to get to eat something -- that would hopefully taste good, and not be, like, mushy bread or something -- and not have to pay for it. This morning was rapidly turning into the best on she’d had in weeks!

He was glad that Darqa was willing to put off their scheming until Milian got his beloved caffeine into his system. Any idea he produced without it would be utter trash. “There’s a place that’s, what, 10 minutes from here I go to.” Somewhat out of the way, but Milian appreciated atmosphere and was always willing to travel for it. The café was good for people watching and there was almost always a cutie behind the bar that he could kill time with by distracting them from their job.

His next words made her laugh even harder, and as she tried her best to get some air back into her lungs, Darqa came to the conclusion that although the day was yet young, it had already paid off in full. Milian was amazing, even when he was still half asleep. “Waking up, putting on pants...sounds like you already accomplished a lot today,“ she marveled, completely serious. Pants were difficult things, especially when the bed was so much more enticing. 

He heard his name before he saw anyone, but he knew the sound of Darqa’s voice better than he knew his own. His eyes widened a bit, both to her words and her near destruction of the innocent vase.

“Coffee!” he shouted back at her as they walked towards each other. He didn’t elaborate, he felt it should be very obvious what he meant. Nothing was more important than his coffee and unless someone was bleeding out then the mission could wait a half hour.

But Darqa’s explanation made him reconsider. He stopped, covering his mouth with a hand. “We need to get what they’re smoking,” Milian concluded after a few beats of thoughtful silence, “because it must be some good stuff to make them say that craziness.”

Nodding happily at her friend, Darqa let out a relieved sigh. “Gods, I know! It’s honestly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, because, well, I mean. Do they have Juvion organizing the booze? Do they have Maia dancing? Do they have the two of us for, like, general awesomeness?” She paused for dramatic effect as Loriente had taught her, then went on, “They don’t! So there’s just no way they’re anywhere near as great as us.” 

“But, like, your idea was good. Let’s get coffee first! Where d’you want to go?” There was a delightful little bakery shop down the street outside of the barracks, with the cutest little cakes Darqa had ever seen -- she’d been dragged in there for the assorted pastries by Maia ages ago, and now it was difficult not to spend all her money there. As a precaution against spending too much she’d taken to brewing herself coffee in the common room, but her baking skills were abysmal. So, no cakes to be had there -- a sad tradeoff, to be sure.

A gurgle from Lena’s stomach produced a sigh as an echo. It was like her body were in constant need of food, lest it eat itself from the inside out. Even now, her stomach threatened to start gnawing. Off to find food, then.

Her fingers twiddled with the small leatherette straps that kept her tunic tied around her waist. It was a size too big, but she didn’t have the time to take it to a tailor. Besides, she wasn’t trying to charm anyone. The bloodstained boots she wore probably spoke measures of that.

She grunted at the first face she passed, jutting her chin vaguely over to where she was headed. “Point me to some good food, would ya?” While she waited for a response, her fingers tapped against the hilt of the dagger she wore tucked into the impossibly small strip of leather–she was the perfect picture of impatience wrapped up in a fleeting façade of friendliness.

She gave the lady only a passing glance before noting with some surprise that it was one of the Groupleaders -- not the person she’d expected to run into today. But here they were, and the impatient attitude Lena was putting on was getting on her nerves way too quickly. Sneering, she replied, “Is there, like, too much blood on your boots and none in your brain, or why are you asking?” 

Ream needed to check where she was entering. Seriously. Especially while she was at Alcart. It felt like she was running from one trap into the another. The whole city was a big trap. Her nerves were wracked by the time, she wanted to scream and cry, but could do none.

Why did she even have the stupid idea to go up to the clock tower? None of her ideas proved to be helpful of right today, she should have just given up by now. But giving up was not the way Ream dealt with things. Giving up was not her style.

“Great, no windows, no exit, just a damn riddle.”

It had appeared on the walls at intervals, when she ventured up to the clock tower, in glittering letters that vanished. A voice echoed around, too, reciting in Common: Where does the snake coil up at dawn?

“Under a godsdamned rock, in a boot, in your mother’s— oh, for fuck’s sake, just let me out!” She shouted for the thousandth time. It was then that she heard a voice from another part of the tower, and ducked behind a fallen beam to hide herself.

Going around and punching random walls had done just about no good at all, and Darqa had no patience to give the riddle a try, either. She was, in a word, so totally fucking done with this whole thing -- if Juvion or Maia were here with here it might’ve been different. Together they could have beaten the dumb clock tower in no time, she was sure, but since she was alone all she could do was cautiously approach the area the loud yelling was coming from.

Darqa waved at Ream excitedly when she recognized her, dismissing the shadow she thought she’d seen further into the tower in her relief to find another Mancer in here. “Miss Toalk! What are you doing here -- and, uh, do you know how to get out?”

If their endeavor went wrong they’d be in so much trouble, Darqa knew -- if maybe not even outright dead. And the repercussions both outcomes would mean for Maia...she didn’t even want to think about it. No. Dea and her were going to think this through properly even if it did mean that they would lose a couple of hours to planning, but it would pay off super well because then their rescue mission would hopefully go off without a hitch. 

With a small frown she hid very quickly -- not wanting to curb Dea’s enthusiasm -- Darqa considered her friend’s words. “Well, what you have so far sounds pretty good, and I think it’ll work! Still, I think we should probably at the very least have a plan for a way out if things go wrong. I mean, I don’t think anything will happen,” she quickly amended, shuddering at the thought, “but we also can’t help Maia if we’re, like, lying in a ditch or something.”

“Do you really need to ask?” Darqa questioned once she’d listened to the full of Deametis’ proposition. Or confession. What exactly it would be would depend on how this all turned out, she supposed. “Of course I’m helping you. If Varamadras wants to wait for the stupid Knight king to get off his ass he’s welcome to, but, like, it’s a Knight king? Him doing something good for us is  as probable as dead people coming back to us in a cloud of sparkles -- what I’m saying,” she huffed, “is that I like your plan. A lot. When do we leave? Do you have anything planned yet? Do you need my help with anything?”

“I can’t do this—I can’t fucking do this,” he muttered angrily, turning away from her. She deserved so much better than that, and he wanted to tell her that he loved her too, that they’d find a way to make it better. But he couldn’t. He was so sick of himself, of not feeling like the person she saw.

It felt like a weird breeze of coldness suddenly washed over her -- Darqa hadn’t actually experienced it herself properly like this, but she knew what it meant. She stood there, cold and frozen, and when the feeling vanished and she could move again, Darqa didn’t have to look around to know that Juvion was gone. 

There was a part of Darqa that wanted to turn heel immediately and race after him, but--no. She rubbed her hands across her eyes, and took a deep breath, and that was that.

In the early days of their relationship, she’d thought about how she would react if Juvion ever did something totally stupid like this. Leave her. Magic her. Idiot stuff that would’ve never really happened, but she’d been feeling surprisingly insecure and wanted to cover all possible bases. Darqa had always imagined that she’d probably get super angry and like, punch some sense into the idiot, but right now she didn’t feel angry at all, only very, very empty. 

There had been plenty of time for Dea to script her proposition, to phrase and rephrase exactly how she would ask Darqa to join her. And yet now that she was here, standing before her would-be partner in crime, she struggled with where to start. All of the confidence that she’d felt leaving Varamadras’ place had dissipated, and she finally understood how outlandish, if not outright dangerous, her plan truly was. What if Varamadras caught wind of this disobedience? And what if she only made things worse for Maia? Was it honestly worth it?

“I mean, so what? You made a mistake, and yeah it was a super big one. But everyone fucks up all the time at varying levels of, uh, fucked-up-grandness.” She felt that she was rambling and stopping to make sense, but she needed to say this and get Juvion out of the rut he was stuck in. 

Orinda closed her eyes and channeled her magic into the same emotion Darqa felt. Suddenly, she’d imagine if it was Gearett that was captured and a sudden influx of emotion poured into her and Orinda shut it all out immediately. She was breathing heavily, her heart beating out of her chest. “I-I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’m so sorry, Darqa. I’m so sorry. We have to do something for Maia– What do we do?”  The spontaneous change came from the lapse in judgement from the emotions she just felt, but now, she was so sure it was something that needed to be done

Hesitantly, she reached out to rub Orinda’s shoulder, muttering, “It’s, like. Umm. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay--you said so yourself! Varamadras and Se’ref will figure something out, and well, if they don’t we’ll just organize our own rescue party! There’s a lot of people willing to break her out, you know,” she added with a smirk.