"Do we have to do the wedding plans now?"
"We have to start planning some time, Erskine."
"But there are more pressing matters!...and there are other people listening in..."
Ghastly turned back to his work, trying his best to pretend he had been working the whole time and not paying the slightest bit of attention to his friend's conversation.
"I can get a good caterer...they make chocolate sculptures...out of a sort of mousse and there are always marshmallows inside...it's silly, but it's absolute heaven!"
He paused for a moment, remembering what he had said back in the hotel. "Do they do elephants?"
She arched an eyebrow. "...Probably...you want an Elephant?"
"Yeah...which ones are the ones with the bigger ears? Indian or Me-...African?"
Ghastly frowned and turned in his chair. "You weren't about to say Mexican, were you?"
He smirked. "Mexican elephants. They definitely have big ears. I think Australian Doormouse Elephants have the biggest ears though...in comparison to their bodies at least."
"Yeah yeah, shut up, smart-ass."
"In all seriousness, have you thought about the best man yet?"
"Huh? Oh, I kind of think I promised Dexter he could be...partially because at the time I didn't believe in a million years Mist would ever even like me in this way..." The betrothed couple looked to one another and he smiled. "If he dies between now and then, you can be best man, 'kay Ghastly?"
A little disappointed, the scarred Elder nodded. "You're really trusting him with that?"
"Not really, no, but, you know, I promised, so..."
A woman stood over Ursa as he awoke. His jaw was back in place. She had dark hair and pale skin even with the tan over the top. He knew her. She was a friend of Platona and Alison's. He was pretty certain her name was Mildred or something. There was a high chance he was wrong though so he planned not to call her by name. She didn't smile when she noticed him awaken. Quite the opposite. She scowled and forced him to his feet. As she spun on her heel to check if anyone was around, the seal brown hair whipping across his cheeks, she finally spoke and a name came to mind. Her accent was Irish, of course. "Hate to be short with you, but I think we're both in a spot of trouble here." Her surname. It was Firegem...or Firejewel...Firestone? Firerock? Firefox? Something like that anyway.
"Aren't you Quirk's sister?" He asked before he could stop himself. Last he had seen of Firestone, Quirk had been trying to kill her. She appeared to be missing one of her watery grey eyes, which was covered by an eyepatch. She also still wore the ruby teardrop necklace. It was either given to her by her father or by an old boyfriend, he couldn't quite remember which.
"Half-sister." She hissed venomously. He yelped as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the trees. "Not quite sure if those are the people after me or you."
He nodded quickly and felt a pain in his jaw. Suddenly he didn't trust his jaw to stay in place. "What exactly are you running from?"
"'Bad' people? Bad people like my kind of bad?"
"Your kind of bad as in villainy or failure?"
"Hey, I don't usually fail!"
"Shut up, both of you." She whispered this as though he didn't even want Ursa to hear. He arched an eyebrow and she glanced over her shoulder. "What you making that face for, ginger pubes?"
Something connected in his mind. "You're the girl who chose to be able to hear dead people, aren't you?"
"I'm Clairaudient." She confirmed.
"Right. You ever hear this Australian guy named Harrison, tell him I didn't mean to kill him."
"Also that no matter what the fat guy will end up dead. Harry himself would have had to have killed him if I didn't."
Out of breath, Firewhatever just nodded. Borealis panted out something about having a car parked nearby and she let him take the lead.
As far as Dorado was concerned, Maleficent was curled up in her room, crying and shaking and having a mental breakdown. As far as he was concerned, it was best to leave people alone when they were in that state. He sat at the long table in the large dining hall opposite the non-ginger daughter of that Twist guy. They were both nibbling on bits of toast and she was watching him curiously.
"It's impolite to stare, miss." He finally mumbled, meeting her eyes. She said nothing. She appeared to be copying the way he was sitting. He sighed and sat back, taking his elbows off the table, and she did the same, minus the sigh. "That's also impolite." He stated good-naturedly. He briefly wondered if she would copy him if he reached for a bread knife and held it to his throat. Perhaps he could trick her into cutting herself while he remained unscathed.
"Do you have a name?" She asked, sniffling slightly as she breathed due to a cold.
"Dorado. It means Swordfish. You?"
"Not a taken one, no. I'm not allowed to give my name to house guests."
"Swordfish is a stupid name."
"Dorado sounds cool though."
"No it doesn't."
He took out an imaginary pen and notepad and pretended to write something down. "Insulting...others'...names...You're a very rude little girl, you know that?" He pointed at her and she stuck her tongue out. He threw his arms up in a manner that said 'I give up'. "I hope to teach you some manners some day, miss." Naturally, he meant it in a way that included knives and blood.
"I have a dad for that."
"Trust me, I can teach some very effective lessons."
She heard the malicious tint to his voice and suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. He watched her squirm in her seat and he grinned.
"My dad's moustache is better than yours." She stated, trying to regain control of her conversation.
"Mine isn't meant to be like his. You shouldn't compare men like that. It can make some feel rather inadequate. They'll need to find something to make themselves feel good about themselves again."
It had sounded like a threat with the tone Garnet had used. She scraped back her chair. His head was down now, not watching her anymore. His fist was clenched. "So rude..." He hissed. The little girl ran from the room. Once the door slammed, Garnet raised his head slowly, grinning, and took another bite of toast as laughter began bubbling up from his throat.
Meanwhile, B-J was in her room, yes crying and sobbing, but not having a breakdown. Rather she was busy creating fakes of the glove-like things with the artistic assistance of Dexter Vex, Tewdews Sympathy and Niamh Lovejoy. They had asked why she needed to make a fake, and she had told them that she didn't trust the person she was giving these to at all. She told them she was working in Mevolent's castle and she planned to give the fakes to her. They were coming along nicely, she had to admit.
The car was nice. Leather interior, always warm, radio perfectly tuned to his specifications, comfy, good seatbelts, a tasteful shade of blue. Whatserface the clairaudient seemed to like it. One name had come to him, a Monarda Scathe, but he was pretty certain that was his ex-girlfriend's name. They were driving and they passed the place he had 'visited' before, seeing an ambulance parked outside already. Or maybe Ursa should have been surprised to see one still there. He hadn't a clue how long he had been asleep for after all. And it had just been sleep, he was sure of it. He distinctly remembered lying by the tree with panicky thoughts and slowly drifting off as he grew sleepier and sleepier. At least he wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel. What would the dark-haired lady think? He risked a glance at her as he tried forcing his mind back to relevant matters. Her storm cloud grey eye was unfocussed. "Fred agrees with me that you're a failure, by the way."
"Tell Fred to stick it up his kilt, yeah?"
She nodded. "Ursa says to stick it up your kilt...yeah...okay, I'll tell him."
"What'd he say?"
"That's a stereotype spat and if he were here he'd chop your ear off for that one."
He nodded. "Sounds about right. Secretly loves skirts, that one. Secretly loves that Harrison guy I was talking about before."
"For a Scottish assassin in Ireland, the guy sure has a lot of Australian 'students'."
"All the people I was with were Australian too. The guy has a thing for Australians. It's like our accent makes him hard or something." She laughed and he grinned. "Can you hear me, you git? What about the others? What about Riordan Mirage and Valarian Rain and Lacerta Riddle and Aphrodisiac Shroud? They there with you in your death? Thought you'd never get yourself killed, huh?"
Firething tilted her head as if listening intently. That was what she was doing, actually. "Ah...I think this is Mirage and he says once you get to the afterlife he's gonna kick your ass."
Borealis barked out a laugh. "I'd like to see him try." There was a moment's silence.
"Fred says he's going to kick your butt too."
"Where're we going?"
"I have this nice little cottage no-one will have ever heard of. We're going to a hotel near there. We'd better hurry before we miss it."
"Miss the hotel?"
"If I miss my reservation, I can't get it back. But yeah, missing the hotel won't be good either."
Amber Thorn stepped out of her front door to get the milk. She herself was lactose intolerant, but she lived with her sister at the moment and she was able to drink milk. It was actually the sister's house. Amber had moved here after her own house had been burnt down. Something made a rustling noise. The auburn-haired sorceress' head whipped up, brown eyes glaring suspiciously at her sister's prize rosebush. There wasn't so much as a light breeze to rustle the leaves. Maybe it was a small animal. that was probably it. She shrugged and turned to go inside.
Somebody dropped behind her. A heavy person. A large gloved hand clamped over her mouth and she tried to scream through it, hoping her sister would hear. The hand smelled of mud, like a gardening glove. Rolling her eyes as she realised she would have to fight this guy in her dressing gown, she drove back her shoulder as she slammed her heel into his crotch. She seemed to break something in her heel against the cup beneath the man's clothes, but the elbow had caught him in the throat. He staggered back with a grunt and she pulled away, then screamed her sister Reeta's name. Reeta appeared at the window and took in the appearance of the assailant.
He was in thick black clothes despite the warmth of the morning, with a large, dark sombrero, large sunglasses and a navy kercheif covering his mouth and nose. He tilted his head, saying nothing. He was a massive man. Reeta appeared at Amber's shoulder, settling into a fighter's stance. The man hardly gave her a glance, reaching for both of them at once...
...and suddenly everything went dark for Grand Mage Amber Thorn.
(('He [Craven] had a daughter somewhere in the world, and he absolutely and without reservation despised her'. That line inspired basically all the stuff between Ursa and this new girl. I have two candidates for this daughter sitting here right now...possibly three...but the third belongs to a friend so until I've decided for certain which one is Craven's daughter, they are half-sisters...meh. Have a nice day!))