sweethymns | Mι∂ηιgнт Ɠяιη∂

Did he really say that?

[ Oren? Color him surprised, to be perfectly honest— sometimes he wonders if Oren doesn't think he's a complete airhead.

(He wouldn't be wrong, but he wouldn't be entirely right, either).

They press into the dark, cold depths of the under-theater dungeon, heavy with antiquity and something else; something vaguely morose, like years of regret and rage. Like crawling into someone's unpleasant subconscious.

Gus's expression turns a touch more somber. ]

Hey. You want to talk about something?

Something like that. But you know, more choppy like he is usually.

[As they move along, Iona pulls her cloak over her shoulders again. The atmosphere, is getting to her whether she wants to admit it or not. When Gus speaks, she looks up at him.]

Sure? What about? Something you wanted to ask me, but you haven't gotten to yet?

It's about me.

[ Which seems like a weird thing to say, but he also realizes that she doesn't know much about him, all things considered. For someone as open as Gus, he keeps his personal life fairly well under wraps... which might be strange, a little perplexing.

His expression borders on something warm, but also hesitant. Like he expects her to say 'no', that she doesn't want to hear it. ]

D'you mind?

Edited 2016-06-22 01:42 (UTC)

... No. No, I don't mind at all.

[Iona looks faintly surprised at the fact that Gus is being open in a different way than usual. She and Oren never did push the Aubert brothers about what their life entailed (they made some dreary guesses on their own), but in the end they were guests of the Midnight Grind, that special in between that made it possible for them to even meet in this lifetime.]

Feel free to tell me anything you're comfortable with.

[ And he draws a long breath, head tipped up to face the dim ceiling covered with moss and cobwebs. In a way, he doesn't like talking about himself just as much as Claude. Not about the things that 'matter', or the things that aren't about the here and now. ]

Mm, well.

[ Maybe it's just the air in this place. It makes him melancholy, as if all his secrets will die here if he doesn't say them out loud. ]

The first time I remember meeting Claude was in a place like this. A basement. [ The cellar of some safehouse, he remembers— his barely teenage half-sibling in a pressed vest and slacks, standing by himself by a row of old wine bottles and empty crates. As if he'd been collecting dust there for decades, too.

Gus was only four, but he remembers. ] My family's really... uptight? Well, my father is, at least. I guess he never liked that Claude was the one thing that didn't go 'right' for him, you know?

I guess this place made me think about it. What it would be like, if someone really had to live in a place like this for their entire lives.

[ His argument is a bit disjointed, as if he can't really figure out what it is he wants to say: whether he wants to talk about how unhappy he is about some facets of his life, or if he's expressing some sort of remorse for not having found this place sooner. ]

[The witch's brows furrow as she takes in Gus's words. She feels... Upset? No, perhaps sad, and more upset that she feels pity. That's the last thing she ever wants to give the brothers because pity rarely if never, helps. Gus's past observation about Claude seems to paint a clearer picture about him and maybe that's why she feels...]

And seeing him like that... That didn't sit right with you did it?

At least he's not there anymore then.

Well! I was four, so I guess I didn't really understand. [ A light laugh, as he steps over a crumbling stair. ] He was always really...

[ An attempt to articulate this with his hands, here. ]

...Mature? About it. Like it was really normal, you know. Do you want to know what I asked him?

[ His laugh, this time, is a bit more subdued. ]

I asked him if he was playing hide and seek, and all he said was "if so, I guess you found me".

He was...I guess he was thirteen. So, if he seems cold... don't get too mad at him, okay?

Oh, Gus...

[There's a difference between being resigned and mature wasn't there? Iona says that to herself, but she isn't so sure. She shakes her head.]

I don't know if I'd be mad. It's kind of weird, but I don't get angry very often.

[It's true that the brothers have yet to see anything resembling fury on her part. Irritation, frustration, yes, but rage doesn't seem to be a part of Iona at all.]

So the way I am, it might just be weird to him too.

[Suddenly, the eerie stillness of the air is broken with someone humming. It's so faint that Iona has to freeze, breathing quietly to see if they can both catch that voice.]

Did you hear that?

He likes you.

[ Gus says with some finality, as if that's that. He also knows that Claude doesn't like liking people, but that's something else they'll discuss sometimes else...

...because holy shit, someone else is here. His shoulders draw up, alert. ]

Uhhh, yes, yes I did. Either we're hearing things, or someone very weird is down here.

[There's no time to spare with their previous conversation now. Iona is focusing very hard as the humming becomes clearer somewhat. The voice is... Absolutely beautiful, even more so than the voice they heard onstage from Christine Daae.

But it's hurting Iona's head and she clutches her forehead with one hand.]

Oh, god DAMN...!

Edited 2016-06-22 03:22 (UTC)

Io—

[ The rest is cut off when a similarly searing pain splits across Gus's skull, and he devolves into a stream of French curses, one hand instinctively reaching to try to support Iona while the other grapples with the wall. ]

—Come on, we need to find a place where the voice doesn't echo as much...!

[ Or else they'll suffocate under it, he fancies. He tugs Iona to the side, brows furrowing over narrowed eyes as he realizes that they've come to a fork in the passage: one leads up, the other further down. ]

... Okay, that? Let's not do that.

[She means the fork in the passage. They are not ready for that next level, not without really knowing with what they're dealing with.]

We're going back, okay Gus? We'll figure it out on safer ground.

[(Because any further down, they might lose each other, they'll get lost if they don't keep their hand to the level of their eyes.)]

Don't worry! I've got goggles that have lenses that can see through the d...

[ And he rummages in his pockets for it, so sure that he's come So Prepared for adventure...

...except. He isn't??? So much for that. ]

...It's in my other jacket pocket!

[ Which one, though, he has so many... the point here is that he looks very distressed as he starts heading back in the direction they came, with Iona in tow. The doge is foiled again... ]

[He could have had it all...]

Yeah, I think we'll take that as a sign.

[How is it that the singing voice is so beautiful, so ethereal, but so maddening? Iona's frustrated that she can't confront it, not without getting the bigger picture. Back to where they come from then and the voice becomes fainter and fainter as they go further away.]

I'll seal the mirror in the room. Whoever is down there is gonna have to find another passage.

[ The voice ebbs and so does the pressure in his lungs, that overwhelming weight. Ask Gus to pinpoint exactly what it was that made him so uneasy, and he couldn't tell you— no voice should be able to incapacitate a person, no matter how hauntingly beautiful— but he's finding more and more often that there are things he'd previously had no reference for that are, in fact, very supernatural and yet very real.

So here he is, pitching facefirst onto a pile of old jackets as Iona seals off the entrance to the basement dungeons. Like a big dog, he just. Lies there, limbs starfished and his voice muffled through thick fabric. ]

I don't want to dieeeeeeeeeeee. [ WOW GUS ]

[Smoke emits from Iona's fingers as she summons heat to seal the mirror, using whatever metal parts from the frame she can pick out. At Gus's reaction, she... Raises a brow. Usually, she was fine with pushing off or even excusing his sometimes charming childishness, but it was at this moment, she kind of understands why Oren of all people would be extremely reactive towards him.

That said, when she's done, she flicks his hair playfully with two fingers.]

Well, don't spend the rest of your life being eaten by jackets at the very least. C'mon, I'm gonna have to ask Oren about this.

[While the dungeon crawling had been going on, Oren who stayed close by and behind Claude had simply turned his head once. He had only uttered one word which wouldn't have made much sense to the doctor.

"... Singing."

He even just left it at that. No extrapolation, no elaboration. Well, sure they're in an opera, but there was no one on stage, much less singing. Was his hearing just good too? He does ask Claude one question.]

Singer. She auditioned?

[ This wouldn't be the first time Oren's made some cryptic comment about something that Claude doesn't understand, but if there's one thing that the cynical doctor knows, it's that Oren never speaks without it being important.

Or, well. Semi-important, if his one-word jabs at Gus can be considered as such.

He turns in his seat discreetly, well aware that Oren is still invisible. ]

Mm. In a way, I suppose— she was 'referred'. [ Suggested as their first choice, by some twist of fate. Strange, since she'd been a complete no-name before that. ]

It's good. Voice.

[High compliment coming from a rock.]

Taught well.

Edited 2016-07-22 06:30 (UTC)

Oren! Orrreeeennn.

[Iona bounds down the path towards her golem and Claude, nearly breathless.]

Before either of you make a comment, no we didn't do anything illegal. On the other hand, we might have a teeny tiny problem?

[JUST. TEENY TINY ITSY BITSY.]

[ Oh my god... HE LEAVES YOU TWO ALONE FOR 30 MINUTES AND THIS HAPPENS

Claude leans on his armrest, looks back and forth between Iona and Gus.

And sighs. ]

I'd like to take a hard pass.

[ CLAUDE????? ]

[HUFFING IN INDIGNATION HERE?! ]

What's that supposed to mean?! Besides the problem here is that we got a creepy crawly underneath the building!

Nothing the police can't handle, I'm sure.

[ He says, full well knowing that the 'police' are a bunch of corrupt, inefficient fools.

Meaning: 'why do we have to get involved???' ]

I'm positive that we might actually be dealing with something that's in my neck of the woods, Claude.

That is unless you're used to phantoms.

Ah, of course.

We can't go a single outing without conjuring some demon from the underworld, it seems.

[ Meaning: OK FINE INVOLVE ME IN YOUR BUSINESS WHY WON'T YOU!! ]

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