Mι∂ηιgнт ιη Ƥαяιѕ

[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP, set anywhere from 1879 alternate history France to 21st century North America. A tale of two brothers and the witch and her golem who gets entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➤ PART I ➢ "La Caravane".

Comments

[effet]

[ SCREAM... cue Gus almost slamming his forehead into Iona's, you have to warn a guy before you do that, Oren?! Or just not do that in general?! ]

—Fucking hell, Oren?!

[infusion]

Whoa! Oh, what the heck!?

[Iona jumps and pulls back when she hears her partner speak up and her eyes narrow.]

Really? REALLY???

[Oren's not gonna look guilty, but he's not looking innocent in this case either he never does]

Look, there's enough left to make another batch. Anyways, you totally just appeared right this second on purpose!!

[effet]

Sabotage! Voyeurism! Foul play! Aren't you gonna punish him, Iona!? Ground him and make him eat plain yogurt for a week?!

[oren]

Not on purpose.

[It's... extremely difficult to tell whether that's just a blatant lie, what, with the way Oren says everything so bluntly.]

Besides. Told you to plan better.

[For this INAPPROPRIATENESS. Iona sighs, putting her forehead in her hand, but she's also trying not to crack a smile at the sheer ridiculousness.]

[effet]

Oren... I thought we were friends!!!

[ An accusatory finger-pointing motion, here. ]

[oren]

So?

Doesn't mean you have your way.

[Things about Oren that have been made increasingly clear over the few days that the Auberts have had with him:

Calm. Poised. Professional. Beautiful. A creature untouched by time.

Absolutely stubborn and controlling about the most random things.]

[effet]

[ Those things are abundantly clear to Gus, but Gus is just as stubborn, and even though he gives up on laying those pouting lips on Iona, he still

manages to hug her. Yeah, take that.... take that, Oren... ]

You really need to learn not to hover, goddamn.

[infusion]

[Iona rolls her eyes, but gives a head pat to Gus.]

You made a good effort, hon, we're both giving you that much credit. Right, Oren?

[The golem looks away, shaking his head judgmentally. The most judgmental.]

[effet]

Effort... I feel like I'm being patronized, here.

[ A sigh, and he pulls up and away, running a hand through his (fluffy) hair. ]

Fine, fine. I've got my hands up! Count them, Oren, if you're that worried.

[oren]

... You should rest. Returning soon. Know you're excited, but rest more important.

[effet]

Alright, alright, jeez.

[ He lowers his hands from the 'surrender' position, swings his legs off the reclining bench to get up. ]

You'll miss me when I'm gone, Oren, I'll tell you that much!

[oren]

No.

[effet]

[ THROWING THIS EMPTY CONTAINER OF YOGURT AT HIS HEAD ]

[oren]

[HE CATCHES THE CONTAINER.

AND CRUSHES IT IN HIS FIST.]

[effet]

[ Time to throw....the spoon?! TAKE THAT, OREN... ]

1/2

[oren]

[HE ALSO CATCHES THAT.

AND CRUSHES THE SPOON IN HIS FIST UNTIL IT'S A BUNCHED UP PIECE OF METAL]

[infusion]

Awww. So you're the ones who ended up bonding tonight. ♥

[effet]

Is this how people bond in this century?! Through stalking and throwing utensils?!

[infusion]

It's Oren's specialty.

[Iona stands up, dusting herself off.]

Oren, I'll meet you back at the Grind and help you do some prep work for some of the food. Deal?

[Oren bows his head, actually complying and backing out. He needs to throw away the bottle and spoon anyways, so. Iona turns to Gus in the meanwhile with her hands on her hips.]

You. You sleep.

[effet]

[ He...withers... but complies, but not before giving Iona a quick peck on the cheek before dropping back inside. It's a casual gesture for him, as it's wont to be for many Parisians. ]

Sleep it is! You get some rest too, Iona.

[infusion]

Hey! [ But she just giggles at the charm of the gesture. ]

You. You are too much.

[effet]

Too much to handle awake, so dream of me too, okay?

[ Gus...

At the very least, he leaves it at that: what an infant. ]

[infusion]

[She follows him inside, hands behind her back.]

Whatever, Dream Boy. Given the chance, I'm sure I could handle you.

[pragnanz]

[ Dream Boy is, thankfully, down out and out in a few minutes' time: a combination of sleeplessness for the span of several days and the culmination of his excitement has his knocked out the moment he hits his mattress, and he doesn't get up at the designated time the next day...

...nor does he wake up when he's called...

...nor at the smell of breakfast...

...nor at the very passive-aggressive threat Claude dishes his to remind him, gently, that they've a time period to go back to. The bed is just that comfortable.

So, Iona will find Claude the next morning with 1 (one) sleepy fuzzball slung over his shoulder, already changed into his customary suit-and-vest combo. ]

Good morning. [ he says, completely placidly... ] Had a good night's rest, did you?

[infusion]

Huh.

[Iona's just helping herself to a tall glass of a green smoothie that Oren just prepared for her (he's washing dishes as they speak.]

You got more arm strength than I thought.

[Says the woman with monster arm strength]