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Royesland [Full]

Vidya Tch'ed at him. She was unfortunately used to Finn having no idea who any one of any importance was; "He's king of the fae of Roseyland. We came here some years ago to court his support in the war-"

"Oi!" She yelled back a tuesday, forgeting she had a big ass sword in her hand as she did so.

Tuesday made a face when she acknoleged him so rudely like he'd smelled something bad, "Oh Molly. This might be the worst day of my life."
 
Nicola​
"Oh my, yes. He is very soft," Nicola breathed, standing on tiptoes a bit so Tom didn't have to lean down quite so far.

The cat caught her eye and meowed at her in such a way it seemed like he was asking a question. For all she knew, he might have been. Until very recently Nicola could and would speak with animals regularly, especially the familiars of magic users. Now all she heard was the deep meow of a very big cat; although she thought she saw something more in his eyes than was usual even for a magical creature… She smiled apologetically at him.

The knight gave perhaps the heaviest sigh she'd ever heard (which was saying something): definitely cause for concern. But then came the first two brave souls to inspect the Irregulars' arrival. One of them, the tall man, was clearly expressing his shock at the state of his home. The other, a woman her own height, simply looked baffled.

Wait.

Nicola stared at the woman, the conversations around her fading away. She was Nicola's height and had the same auburn hair, though hers was longer and rattier. Her face bore several sizeable scars and scratches, and she was so thin that her already oversized sweater and overalls hung loosely on her body. The woman walked with a pronounced limp and clutched in her arms… Hell's bells, is that a real pearl?

A wave of vertigo came over her. Nicola's twin sister had died when they were babies, too young to remember her face even if it hadn't been some 25+ years ago. The loss had been so great her parents had erased all traces of their other daughter, even forbidding Nicola from saying her name. As a child she had daydreamed constantly that her sister really was alive somewhere, having fantastic adventures that one day she would return home from. Mama and Papa would weep with joy and relief and they would be a proper family. She wouldn't be alone anymore.

It had been over a decade since she'd entertained such a notion, even longer since she'd said her sister's name out loud. When she tried to say it now, it came out in so breathless a whisper it was if her voice had forgotten what it sounded like.

"Molly?"

Molly​
Until right now Lockette had been the biggest person Molly had ever seen, but the one-armed man in armor almost gave them a run for their money. Next to him stood a woman who was somehow both purple and a cat?? Molly had seen a lot of peculiar things in her travels, but this might finally take the cake.

Holding a big-ass sword, the cat woman spoke to her companion before calling to Tuesday. A perfectly miserable look came over his face. They clearly knew each other.

"Aw, Tuesday. Don't say that!" Despite having been with him most of the day and knowing how bad some parts had been, when he said it might be the worst day of his life Molly's heart broke. She wanted to hug him, but although her face went pink again at the notion, she held back.

"Worse than being dunked in the fountain?" she teased, gently nudging him as she stepped forward and addressed the newcomers. "You all having a party out here, or something?"

Molly moved a little in front of Tuesday, as if she could shield him from whatever negativity the cat lady was making him feel. "And welcome back, Mister Wizard! I'm Molly Sill." Smiling, she gave one of her funny little curtsy-bow gestures. "I didn't expect you to return so soon, but I'm glad you've come! Somebody-" she nodded at Cathal, now being petted by one of the strangers- "missed you an awful lot."
 
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Tom clutched Cathal posessivly as things just kept happening. As the girl from the tower adressed him as mister wizard and refrenced his return he truely started to realize he was in trouble. He glanced at Jackie for moral support but she was invisible and going through it. The Cat girl was purple and looked a little mean- Nicola was not taking finding out she had a dopleganger well.

"I have no idea what the hell is going on," He whispered into the cat.
 
Cathal McKay​
Cathal meowed sympathetically at Tom. I know, you dumb sunuvabitch, he thought sadly.

Tom had lost all his memories, and Cathal had to do something about it.

Finn Dolan​

On an empathetic level, Finn knew everyone else was also having a miserable, confusing time. On the other, they didn’t seem to know what to do about it, and he was entirely too tired to stand around while they figured something out. So he left them all standing in the ruined square like headless chickens and started for the inn.

Either they’d find him or they wouldn’t, but at least he could sit down and have a beer.
 
Everything feels so much, and yet feels so much - she aches, pain from getting thrown around and slashed and burned and electrocuted during this hellfuck day. On a good day, she doesn't have the patience for this much misery, and would tuck herself away to roll a cigarette and smoke in solitude. Today is too much. Every time Nicola starts crying, or Tom looks vacantly around, or Finn scowls, the shallow but open wound in Jackie's side aches as if it were being re-inflicted. She closes her eyes, brow furrowing deeply to focus on regulating how much pain she's in until it feels just manageable enough that she thinks speak without snapping at the first person to ask her a question.

She opens her eyes, reading to speak and contribute, when spots a close-to-identical-girl to Nicola approaching them.

Same height, but much thinner, in a way that strikes painfully as familiar - someone that didn't live to get a meal every day. She favours one leg over the other, and her identically shaded hair hangs long, uneven, and wild.

Jackie laughs once, a burst of a harsh sound through her teeth that borders on delirious, "Well, I've had e-fucking-nough bullshit for one day. I am going to that inn-" Jackie points to the Inn Finn had so helpfully pointed out, "- and I am going to get fucking wasted. You-" She points to Nicola, "- you -" She points to Vidya, "-And you -" and finally points to Tom, "- We all deserve rest, and so much fucking booze. I, for one, am ready to commit murder in the first fucking degree for a shot right now. I don't know where we are, and honestly? Not even the most pressing problem right now. But we're not going to solve any of those problems right now. Sleep, drink, whatever - but I personally need to fucking shelve it for one night."

And then she keeps talking, running a hand through her hair as she laughs again, despite feeling very un-okay, "Because frankly? Frankly - I - I literally don't have any fucking idea what's going on. Yeah, curse is an easy answer. And I'm going to stick with it for now. But we're not going to solve our curse because Nicola has got a block going and Tom - yeah, hi, your name is Tom, by the way - is an amnesiac. Holy fuck, do I need a fucking drink!"
 
"I had already figured that out," Tom snaps defensively which is the first Tom-like thing he'd managed to say.
 
"...I dunno, What are we fucking drinking?" he asks uselessly. Becuase that was kind of amnesiac he was- more the knowledge burned out than the memories suppressed.
 
"You like pale ale because you grew up on the North-Western coast. I don't understand the correlation, but apparently growing up in the North-West means you like the taste of piss. That's your business."
 
Finn Dolan​

The one good thing about walking into a strange inn wearing full plate, copious amounts of blood, and carrying his own severed arm was that when he sat down and gestured (rather apologetically) for a beer, no one wanted to argue with him. He slid a rather more than a beer was strictly worth on the table in payment (it was coin from the Kingdom of Peaches, but gold was gold, no matter whose face was printed on it) in apology for both himself and the circus that he knew would eventually blow in after him.

As much as he wanted to get his boots off to look at his feet, he didn't want to fumble around with tying to get his glove off, so he just set himself up at a table out of the way, with his shield slung over his chairback and his arm sitting on the table next to him, and appreciated the fact that Port of Pearls had a decent stout.
 
"So- is the wizard back?" The inn keep tried ask him sheepishly bringing over a whole pitcher for him, since he'd more than paid for it. He had previously chsed not one but two man-rats out of the inn and third one was still hiding in one of his store rooms and locked in. They didn't seem too bright or too mean so he wasn't more worried than when tithe came through town once a year- which is to say he was still a little worried.
"You mean the tall guy?" Vidya asked bouncing in behind Finn. She set his sword down against the table- it was nearly as big as she was. The inn keep stared at the purple cat girl.
"He is rather tall- yes."
"Yeah," Vidya said unhelpfully, barely looking at the man. She sat down next to Finn and gave him her whole attention instead; "Do you want that glove off buddy or you just going to suffer?"

That meant nothing to Tom, but he was forced to trust her implicitly as they trudged towards the inn. When they entered the Inn keep looked at him with instant recognition and his whole mood turned around.
"YOU'RE BACK! DRINKS ON THE HOUSE!" He said, then added, "I mean as long as you get that ratboy out of my store room later. Did you have to bring rat friends with you?"
"I did. Yes." He said bluffing nobly. They joined Finn at his table and the circus that was them was officially in town.

Tuesday watched as some of the adventurers trickled into the inn.
"Molly. Do you know that other you- or do we have a situation?"
 
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"I'd physically pull you two to the Inn, but motherfucking alas-" She gestures to herself, then makes eye contact with the Not-Nicola. She thinks about it, then shrugs. She detours from the crew, who are trudging like miserable slugs towards the Inn, and approaches the Not-Nicola and the man with her, "Hey. I am going to get very drunk. You look identical to a girl I happen to like. And I really want to see what the fuck that is about. Join us?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jackie turns towards the Inn, barging through the front door and yelling, "A fucking pale ale and two shots of whatever hard liquor you can get your hands on first!"

Jackie sits down at the bar by Nicola with more drama than grace, slumping heavily against the surface of the counter. She thanks the Innkeeper when he deposits her shots in front of her, and throws both of them back without even wincing. She looks to Nicola, "I invited your doppelganger, because, um, why the fuck has this never come up before?"
 
Finn looked at Vidya and allowed himself another sigh before gesturing sheepishly at her and then offering his hand.


Cathal, still crumpled like a child's toy to Tom's chest, couldn't decide if this were the best day of his life or the worst. On the one hand, Tom was back. On the other, everything was awful.
 
The inn keep was quick to deliver Jackie's demands. Bringing her two shots of whiskey and a bottled pale ale stat. Tom sat awkwardly and sipped while things continued to happen, wich was mostly Vidya unlacing Finn's glove and before he could complain working her way through most of his upper armor. She'd been a competent squire once and it showed.

He looked down the opening of his bottle after a few more sips and then at the very compliant cat in his lap and told him, "this is the best thing I've eaten," like it was a a grave secret.
 
Finn Dolan​
It was nice to get out of the armor, and Finn let Vidya help without complaint, though he was rather dreading finding out what had happened to his feet. When Vidya finally freed his torso to her satisfaction he bent down and removed the armor from his lower legs, and then his boots. And then he stared.

Ah. Well. That explained a few things.

His feet had been replaced with chicken's feet. No. Rooster's. He had long, vicious looking spurs coming out of the backs, and long slender toes covered in yellowy scales. Finn put a hand to his forehead.

This might as well be happening.

Cathal McKay​
Cathal settled into Tom's lap, carefully kneading Tom's thigh with his paws, and then looked up as Tom whispered conspiratorially at him. He meowed, which could not quite convey, No it isn't, you dumbass, you've had my soda bread, but hopefully got close.
 
“Do I know- what?” Laughing, Molly glanced up at Tuesday, following his gaze to one of the strangers hovering around Cathal and his wizard. She met the other woman’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away.

A memory came to the surface: of being at a flea market once, rounding a corner abruptly and startling herself when she nearly walked into a full-body mirror. It wasn’t that she realized it was her own reflection, not right away anyhow; at first it was just the awkwardness of nearly entering someone’s personal space by bumbling into them. But there was something… more than just that. An alert going off in her brain. Was it that she was confronted with her own face without expecting or even realizing it at first? It had been such a brief moment, to her recollection she thought she must have just laughed it off.

Looking into this woman’s face was an even greater surprise than that. She was a mirror, and yet she wasn’t: under the grime and puffy redness of recent tears, Molly saw her reflection as it had been several years ago now. Before flights for her life from magic bent on corrupting her mind and spirit, that had ended up only leaving physical scars instead- because that was so much better an outcome. There were the same freckles, the same big brown eyes.

“Molly?” the woman asked. It was more a breath than anything else.

The tense, awkward silence was broken by a companion of the Other Molly, as Tuesday had called her: a woman who was very pretty and kind of scary-looking and also a little see-through? Other Molly went visibly pink despite her already ruddy cheeks at “a girl I happen to like”, and as if on cue, Molly felt herself blush too.

...What the fuck is happening?

The other her looked apologetically after her companions before following them into the Silver Prawn. Molly’s thoughts whirled without any coherence, besides that it seemed like everything kept coming back to this inn. “Um… I don’t know,” she murmured in Tuesday’s general direction. “I guess we’ll find out?”

Nicola felt like they were in a perverted, somewhat nightmarish rendition of her childhood daydreams. Watching Jackie be solid long enough to slam down two shots of whiskey almost made her laugh, but she held off because it would’ve been the kind of hysterical laughter where it’s really hard to stop and everyone judges you silently. Instead she answered the question. “Because she died before we were two years old and I haven’t even spoken her name out loud in over a decade.”

Was it a little too real? Probably. But the words were out now, no taking them back.

She sullenly ordered a pot of black tea from the innkeep, as well as the bottle of whiskey Jackie’s shots were from. “At the same time, please.”

Her dead sister finally limped into the inn after them, hovering behind Nicola and Jackie like she was ready to bolt. The dark-haired man followed, but he at least took a seat.

Molly’s eyes wandered everywhere but Nicola, stopping when she saw the rest of their odd party take a table in the corner. Nicola, for her part, also avoided making eye contact, although she was busy trying to think of what to say and missed the moment where Finn’s boots came off to reveal chicken feet. Her mouth made a perfect O in shock before turning quickly back to Nicola and asking the first dumb question that came into her head.

“How do you know my name?”

Nicola gave her a pained look. “You’re my sister,” she replied just as stupidly. “You don’t… know me?”

“...No?”

The tea arrived. Nicola thanked the innkeeper, pouring a decent amount of whiskey into her teacup before adding the steaming hot tea. “Makes as much sense as anything does right now, I guess,” she said half to herself. “You’re supposed to be dead, anyway.”

In this moment, if one looked up the expression ‘deer in headlights’ in the dictionary, one would find not a deer but a picture of Molly.

She cradled the teacup in her hands but didn’t drink. “How are you here?” she asked the cup. “How are you alive?” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jackie implicitly at this point, but it was still embarrassing to be acting like this much of a complete idiot in front of her. Not to mention Molly’s… whatever this guy was, and the innkeeper, and everyone else in the tavern.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t…” Finally Molly felt too awkward to keep standing, and took the barstool between Tuesday and Nicola, the massive pearl perched in her lap. The innkeeper, who had been hovering nearby pretending not to listen (and be watching the others at the same time) offered another teacup. At a nod from Nicola, Molly accepted and poured herself a cup (sans whiskey) but she didn’t drink, either. “I, um, I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

It took her so long to answer Molly had begun to think she hadn’t heard. “Nicola,” she finally said. “Nicola Drake.”

Hearing the name you’d forgotten was yours for over 25 years seemed like it should have a bigger impact on Molly than it did. Seeing her reflection now in her teacup, rather than her sister’s face, she just sighed. A frightened child lost in the woods didn’t have a last name, and so she’d always used Godmother’s instead. Now she knew Nicola was right.

Molly Drake.

She liked Sill better.

“If I’m supposed to be dead,” she said slowly, “perhaps you should tell me why. Because my parents abandoned me when they found out I had magic.” She looked pointedly at Nicola’s robes of sorcerer black (although she lacked a conspicuous hat like the one Cathal’s wizard wore), finally having the guts to end it by making eye contact with her sister. “If they kept one of us, though… I’d like to know the reason I was left behind.”
 
Tuesday attempted to order a tall glass of milk with honey in it and succeeded, the bar keep too keen on looking busy and eavesdropping to question his strange order. So it was with some smug pleasure that he sipped his drink- however it was marred with his intense dissatisfaction in the entire situation. Molly was distressed and Tom didn't know him.

Tom couldn't feign indifrence to him like this. If you had asked the king of fairies before his opinion n the wizar he would have told you he was the worst human man in all royesland, a dishonest, devilish sort that couldn't be trusted even a little. And that was true. but as a man, with the ability to feel a subtle range of emotions there was also the fact that Tom was a staple in his life. In his kingdom. In his rythms and expectations. Sure. Tom had stolen his sacred pearl. And bested him a game of wits. humiliated him at court. And insulted his knight at arms. And freed his court's ridding boars. and framed him for theft at the temple- but underneath all that- all of wich still anoyed him greatly- Tom was a kind of playmate, a beloved rival more than an enemy. Tom had never realy been a threat to the sleepy fae court of the forest.

Now that he had his pearl back things were even any how.

Other molly had attempted to explain herself but Tuesday didn't buy it. He had no concept of Twins. He quietly decided that Nicola must be a fairy, possibly one he knew, considering she had accompanied the Queen of Cat's and gave her a suspicious unrelenting look as she and Molly continued to talk.
__

Quill looked at Pol in disbelief as they finished chasing the lat man-rat out of the tea shop.

"That happened-" they said still brandishing a broom. The shoppe was in shambles, with the tables upended, and sludge gooping in underneath the shop door. The patrons had all fled. Quill was distantly glad he'd had the good mind to dose himself this morning or the hilarity of the event might had driven him to mist. But he'd been on enough battle fields that little truly shocked him.
 
Even though her chest and throat are still burning from throwing back two whiskey shots back-to-back, she waves for another. The Innkeeper supplies her demand with only mild concern, placing the third glass in front of her. Jackie holds the shot with her fingertips by the rim of the glass, watching the conversation between Nicola and Not-Nicola. It is heavy and Jackie almost feels like a voyeur sitting so close to witness. Swiveling around her stool so her back is to the bar, Jackie gestures with the hand holding her shot, almost spilling it across the counter, "Okay, just so I'm up to speed - you are twins, one got the short end of the stick over magic, which I think is weird, because Nicola is ranked high in my 'most-magically-competent-people-I-know' list. Which, Not- I mean, Molly? Molly? That sucks. But, I feel you on the least favourite twin thing, if that makes you feel any better."

Jackie taps the bottom of her shot to the counter and downs it, then, as she swivels a bit unsteadily in her chair to go about stacking her shot glasses, feels the shot glass slip through her now-intangible flesh again, shattering against the floor. Jackie swears, then swears with more feeling as Jackie's entire body phases through her chair and spills her out on the floor. Instead of rising with any degree of dignity, Jackie simply lays flat on her back on the Inn's floor, laughing like the world's most miserable jester. Her side is still burning, and Jackie wishes everything would stop fucking hurting, and she wishes she could touch people, because Nicola looks so distraught that Jackie is considering the embarrassment of asking Nicola if she needs a hug.

How the fuck did she get here? Tom doesn't remember her or anything, she doesn't know where they are, from her new vantage point she can see that Finn has fucking rooster feet and she doesn't know how he hasn't committed seppuku over it yet, she can't touch anyone or anything and everything hurts, and for whatever reason she is so acutely aware of how upset everyone is and she hates the idea that she might've been cursed with excessive empathy, of all fucking things, because maybe she's a bad person.

"If I were in your positions," Jackie says through clenched teeth from the floor, gesticulating her hands in the air above her head, "I'd probably wait until you both have more alcohol in your systems before asking those heavy ass questions. This conversation is gonna suck, and I would want to do it drunk, but maybe I'm just a bad person. Or - or, just table the conversation for a time where we didn't get fucking thrown from a fucking tower? Or had the shit beat out of us by rat men? Man rats? What was the fucking verdict on that - it doesn't even matter. But I'm in so much fucking pain for no reason, and Nicola just Atlas'ed a fucking building on to her shoulders. Just... Catch up. Talk about something positive. This whole Inn needs to lighten the fuck up, because I clearly am not physically capable of getting enough alcohol in me to cope with any of this."

All that, coming from a grown woman that won't get up off the ground.

"... Maybe this would have more impact if I got up," Jackie adds, not making any effort to rise. She looks over, and realizes the Queen she stabbed in the face is now purple. Which. Might as well happen. Jackie covers her eyes with her hands, "Nicola. Take a breath, take a drink, and try to talk about the easier things first. Same for Molly. Diving head first into abandonment issues and dead-but-not-dead sister trauma is going to be a doozy, and you might as well start easy before you both try to make a run for it."
 
Between Molly's quiet heartache and the intense look her companion was giving, Nicola was shocked into silence. Abandoned for her magic? But that isn't what happened at all! Fortunately Jackie spoke up before she could spend more than a few long, awkward seconds staring blankly at her sister.

"Least fav- wait, you're a twin too?" Nicola shouldn't have been surprised, necessarily; long as they'd been together, when it came down to it she didn't know her teammates all that well. She glanced over to where the guys sat with Vidya, wondering at the extent of what she didn't know about Finn and Tom, realizing how much like strangers they all still were… which is when she caught sight of Finn's feet. Now those she knew weren't there before. Finn and Nicola had shared a tent during this whole campaign and she'd seen him put his boots on as recently as- actually, when was the last time they'd slept? ...No matter, he'd definitely had human feet before now.

"Bloody hell, Finn, what happened to yo- Jackie!" Having gone incorporeal once again, Jackie had swiftly phased through her shot glass and the barstool. Now she lay at its feet, probably on top of the broken glass, making no move to get up. Sun and stars, you can almost see the grain of the floor through her skin. Nicola twitched, starting to jump to her feet before remembering she wouldn't be able to help Jackie up anyway. Some boozy tea sloshed onto her robe, because that's the kind of day it had been.

But for Nicola's protestations, with a pained wince Molly almost hopped up as well. Once again Nicola took in the faded scars on her sister's face, briefly distracted into feeling quite angry. Who and what had done this to Molly, and how quickly could they expect an ass kicking once Nicola knew? It was Jackie's hysterical laughter that brought her back out of her head. She felt like laughing that way herself.

Molly froze, eyes darting back and forth between Nicola and the woman on the floor in alarm. "Um, is she-?"

"She's probably fine? You won't be able to help her up, most likely. Faerie curse," Nicola explained in a low voice, impressed that Molly's eyes actually managed to grow wider. "We think, anyway. She isn't... solid? You know, like a ghost?" Now her sister just looked confused again.

The ghost had a lot on her mind, though, and she let them know it. From her three-shots-deep vantage point on the floor, she gave (in her trademark style, of course) possibly the wisest, most emotionally mature advice Nicola had ever gotten from anyone. She found herself glancing out the inn's front windows, checking for flying pigs.

Nicola. Take a breath. Maybe Jackie knew her better than she thought. She hadn't noticed she was holding her breath until just then. Shakily, she exhaled, letting herself match the tiny smile that had crept onto Molly's face. Forcing herself to breathe, Nicola brought the teacup to her lips and took a sip. Immediately she coughed and made a face of total revulsion. "You know, I'm not actually a big drinker," she admitted.

"Oh, I'm not either," Molly agreed.

The shared smile grew a little wider.

Nicola set her teacup down on the bar. "You're not a bad person, by the way, Jackie," she said to the floor, the whiskey burn underlining her guilt for not being able to help her friend. "In fact, you're actually probably my favorite person."

Molly winced sympathetically. "Are you sure it's-?"

"If she really wants up, she'll get up. We should probably get her to a healer soon though," Nicola nodded, debating drinking more of her tea. "Finn and the princess, too. Queen? Whatever. And Tom. Poor Tom, I can't believe his entire brain dribbled out his ears and I didn't even notice. Fuck." She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly before deciding, to hell with it, and took a bigger drink from her cup. Nicola was proud she only choked a little this time. Talk about something positive. Catch up...

The other redhead threw a questioning glance over her shoulder at her friend, but didn't say anything to him. Instead, she returned her attention to Nicola, seeming to think of Jackie's advice at the same time. "So we passed some people… men, I suppose? ...With rat heads. On our way here."

Her tone implied it was a question. Talking about what a messed up day it's been is not going to 'lighten this inn the fuck up', Nicola said to herself. But then she thought about it: really thought about how they'd spent all day bumbling through one absurd scenario to another. From the frying pan into the fire, as they say.

With a smile, she began to tell the story of the Royesland Irregulars in the Kingdom of Peaches. She wasn't anywhere near the calibre of storyteller as Molly, but Molly at least was an enthusiastic audience. And it was, in many if not most places, a funny story.

She was amazed how much better she felt for telling it.
 
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There's a bit where Molly and Nicola talk around her, as if she wasn't on the floor right near their feet, and Jackie is about to either make a smart ass comment, or say something rude, when -

"You're not a bad person, by the way, Jackie. In fact, you're actually probably my favourite person."

- which. Does something to Jackie.

"Don't go getting my hopes up, Nikkie," Jackie quips weakly, feeling heat crawl up her neck and her heart feel too... something, in her chest. She's glad she's covering her face with her hands. She's heard that she doesn't easily blush, and that when she does, it doesn't show well through her skin, but she's glad the chances that Nicola will see her flush are as close to zero as possible. Nicola definitely didn't mean that in anyway beyond... y'know. The meaning of that they've been stuck together for weeks, alongside Finn and Tom, trying to kill a King to which they all had a personal vendetta, and Nicola didn't want to use some sort of magical method to beat the shit out of Jackie.

Fuck. Jackie was so intolerable, that saying that she was someone's favourite person was unheard of. She doesn't think she's ever been anyone's favourite... besides maybe Alistair, but he was an outlier that Fate decided to murder.

Jackie is uncharacteristically quiet as Nicola recounts their ordeal with the Rat King or whatever Xanth's deal was, only pitching into the tale to address a detail Nicola skipped, or, worse, intercepting Nicola minimizing her own abilities. This woman magically held up an entire fucking building. That's very sexy of her-

Stop that. That's gay.

"Nicola. I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough."
 
Apollo

And the rat brigade?!

Apollonius may have had to pause to resist the impulse to feed Quill bites of the pie he offered them. Mostly, the practical notion of broken bits of pie being rather messy stayed his hand. He didn't want Quill's beautiful robes to be stained, after all.

Apollo settled for the occasional stolen glance up from devouring his own pastry. These hand pies were something else. He ought to talk the innkeep into giving a portion of the daily bakery to him, that he might sell these convenient little pockets of delight to folk the next town over.

Judy had been dealing Pol into the trio's Mahjong game when a noise like a cannonball crashing into a rampart interrupted everyone's peaceful day. The curved walls of Quill's shop shuddered. The more precariously hung and stacked ingredients slipped from their places as the ground shook. Pol caught as many of the breakable objects as he could, slipping some into the generous sleeve pockets of his robes to leave his hands free for the ones to follow.

The light weaver donned his most impressive countenance and stepped outside, only to shriek most unimpressively:

"Eek! Rats!"

Surprised by the stampede, one or two blew him over in their flight. Knocked flat on his bottom, it took Pol a mite longer to help the mahjong trio flee to their homes.

Pol grabbed a very large pot lid and an umbrella someone left near the door. He really only succeeded in blocking a few flailing arms and prodding away about a half dozen rats who drew too close, but none of the little old ladies were harmed on the road.

But then there was the problem of going back home, in the opposite direction of the rodent mob. The ratling brigade trampled dew-flecked grass in their flight away from the source of the earlier din. Halfway up the nearest tree, Pol conjured an illusion of a sizable tomcat, hissing through it. The sea of ratmen scattered in short order. While wholly graceless, Pol managed to climb down from the tree and run home, huffing and puffing and hissing like a cat.

A few ratmen had gotten in while he was out. They didn't appear to be looting the place, but they did knock over everything not nailed or tied down in their attempt to seek an exit.

"THE. SHOP. IS. CLOSED." He shrieked and menaced a pair with his umbrella until they scrabbled to the door.

Quill took care of the rest with his broom, which was, when Pol later stopped to remember it, quite dashing for some reason.

The wizard slammed the door shut, narrowly missing the last ratling's tail, and slid all the locks and bolts to a locked position with a great clap of his hands.

Pol half requested, half prayed to the peri, sprites and various house spirits in and around the shop to keep its occupants hale and whole "to the last strand of hair in each of their lovely heads." He hoped the prayer included all the guardians themselves, though they were now wholly invisible to him. If he were a guardian spirit, he would like to be included in people's prayers, even if they were asking him to do something with only gratitude in return.

That is a little ungenerous, dear. Gratitude from the right people would mean the world, you know.

"As long as we stay here, we will be safe. I think. You have. There are," Apollo sputtered, failing to find the words to explain Quill's faerie guardians to the shopkeeper themself.

He took a long, deep breath and tried again.

"You have more friends in Port of Pearls than you might think, Quill. I'll make sure they stay on your side. I owe you that much and, well, quite a bit more, really."

Pol had the decency to look as bashful and chagrined as he felt, a rosy hue coloring the edges of his face. Both he and Quill had such a long day, and it wasn't even sundown yet. He wanted to collapse into a bed - preferably accompanied by Quill - and let his myriad panics dissolve into the muzzy cocktail of sleep.

"Let's retire for the day, you and I," Pol suggested, boldly clasping one arm around Quill's back, "I doubt any customers will come knocking until at least noon tomorrow."
 
It was a relief too that Jackie pitched in to the story here and there. Not that she wanted a hype man or anything; but if Jackie was still talking, even occasionally, Nicola knew she wasn't seriously hurt enough to worry too much over. She glanced down again, endearment for her friend visible in her eyes. "I mean, we've established I'm not a drinker, but is three shots of whiskey really too drunk?"

Her experience with hard liquor was limited enough for her to wonder if just a few sips of it could sufficiently fuel the warm fondness that had been rising in her chest. It was probably also the exhaustion, she decided. Nicola was bad with emotions but still fell in love easily; a terrible combination. Although, lifting her gaze to Finn and Tom and allowing herself to dwell on it briefly, it wasn't quite the same; her secret affection for them remained constant. It's not that she suddenly liked Jackie more than she had before, not really? But something there had changed, or was more pronounced somehow. And any other day she might have fled from a feeling like this. Today, for some reason, she didn't mind it so much.

"Not that I should probably be encouraging you. Do you want the rest of this?" Sliding off her stool with the teacup in hand, her boot crunched a little bit of glass.

"Hey." Nicola crouched down next to Jackie. "Two things. One, putting booze in this sounded like a great idea at the time, but I can't drink any more. If you think you can get a hold of it, it's yours. Two, should you maybe get up sooner rather than later? You already took enough hits for my squishy caster ass today. I don't want you to suddenly become solid again and be lying in a pile of broken glass."
 
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