Mai-Ly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formidable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sweethymns2015-06-09 01:01 pm
formidable) wrote in sweethymns2015-06-09 01:01 pm
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Mι∂ηιgнт ιη Ƥαяιѕ
 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. ➢ "La Caravane". |
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Iona, with brows slightly raised, nods in agreement. So his full name is "Auguste," huh...?]
I'll try to keep one eye closed.
[She's had her fair share of shady interactions since her cafe does attract those sorts. She is hoping however, that she just hasn't gotten herself into something she can't get out of.]
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He's also trying very hard not to ruin a date by potentially meeting up with someone who would love to run him over with a car. So far, so good. ]
Don't worry too much! You're safe with me.
[ Please let this be true. But here comes the menu, and he hands one over to Iona with a reassuring smile. ]
What do you want? Everything's on me, of course.
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Well, I definitely have to have a cafe au lait. Gotta see how it matches up... Oh, but of course! An apple tart.
[She's a strange girl; so far she's been taking everything in stride whereas normal people would probably freak out by the change of scenery and the implication of looming trouble... But it was obvious to the Aubert brothers that she was never normal to begin with.
When she makes her order, Iona leans on her elbows just ready to chat it up.]
So you're well known around these parts?
[Okay, so not the most comfortable question to ask...]
That's kind of like my grandmother. I feel like, no matter where I go, one way or another, she's already been around.
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Her question has him tap a finger against his chin in consideration, but she moves on and he sees that as an opportunity not to answer— in some ways, the brothers are very much alike. ]
So your grandmother's a big traveler, huh? I bet you have some of her adventurousness going for you, too.
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Maybe? But I don't know if I'll ever match up to her level of wanderlust. [Or maybe she will when she gets older. But that seems so far away...]
I think I'm like her in that I want to leave an impression on people though although we do it in different ways.
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[ Their coffee comes, and with it, their pastries. It looks and smells just as good as you'd expect, and Gus wastes very little time in digging into his own croissant with relish. ]
One: you're a knockout. [ don't eat and talk at the same time, Gus... god. ] Two: you're a knockout. [ GUS?? ]
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[Yeah, that would be better if he wasn't eating and talking!! That said, being called a knockout does have more of an effect than she expected. If she were to be completely honest, she had gone along with this venture out of curiosity and Gus just happened to give her the chance (and he was cute, cute like a puppy). It's not that hard to blindside her though.
Um, yes, focus on the apple tart girl; she takes a bite and it's wonderful.]
I'm used to "cute," but I think "knockout" is a first.
[Knockout mode, to her is when she dresses for drinking with her college friends or going to the beach, not in this conservative dress Oren put her in.]
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[ Read: he's not shy. At all. He's never had time to be, or he never felt inclined. Always hurtling himself into things full-speed, that's Auguste Aubert for you.
He splits his choux in half— hazelnut filling— and plops one end on Iona's plate. Sharing is caring. ]
Stick with me, you'll hear it all the time. ♥
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[She takes the choux and pops it into her mouth. Also delicious. Or maybe food just tastes good with good company.]
Words like that should always be special! They're best when they come and hit you out of nowhere.
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[ What a trooper. It turns out that he won't have to try too hard, though, judging by the sudden presence of about 3 other men in black suits and jackets that are too long for the weather; it's like they're not even making an effort to be subtle.
Gus looks over his shoulder, sees the group, and mutters a short "ugh" under his breath. ]
—Hey. Speaking of: how good are you at running?
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She'll be fine. Oren just needs to follow them.]
How fast do I need to run?
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[ There's a clatter of chairs, and one of the men gestures towards Gus and says, with finality, "Monsieur Aubert"—
—and that's his cue, with a last shovel of his Napoleon into his mouth and a kick of his chair to the nearest assailant's face. ]
—Time to leave!
[ A motion to indicate 'follow me', and Gus grabs Iona's arm and rushes her to the back of the cafe (this is something that the owners have dealt with before, they sigh and look towards the front door for Claude to show up: they know he will, to pay for the damages). ]
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Yeah, she's in a deep pit of trouble now, isn't she? Iona almost trips, but manages to avoid it so she can match her pace with Gus. She's really grateful to Oren for the simple dress now. Anymore layers and she'd have been tripping all over and be a real burden (although if they're gonna have to keep this up, she might as well rip off the skirt).
She yells at Gus as they get out to the back.]
Alright! I didn't mean to have someone get actually HIT in the face, but sure! That happened!
Friends of yours?!
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[ He says, but his expression's hardened, brows furrowed in his first genuine frown since they've met: his features almost flatten in concentration as his mind maps an efficient escape route, vivaciousness cast aside in favor of practicality. His tone remains light, though, in an effort not to frighten Iona. ]
...Stay in front of me, don't show them your back!
[ He bursts through the back door and out into a small alley, swerves the both of them down a dark corner and into a spiderweb of smaller sidestreets.
If she hears a 'click', that's the sound of him undoing the safety of the pistol he'd kept tucked in the back of his pants. ]
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Well. Can't say that Iona isn't willing to adapt to life or death situations. She listens to him, but takes a deep breath herself in between those microseconds of pausing. She needs to let her magic run through her veins so that her spellcasting, should she be forced to do so, can be powerful and accurate. Accuracy, being more favored here. The innate magic mixed with the crystal's energy in her right arm courses throughout her being, like electricity being lit up and her pace becomes sharper and quicker.]
Are you sure you're gonna be okay?
[She asks about him, instead of herself, oddly enough. Because if worse comes to worst, she'll be...]
Also, let me guess; police ain't helpful in situations like these?
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[ That would entail a lot of messy things on the side, and no, it wouldn't be particularly helpful. It would entail having to sort out the good cops from the bad cops, and which faction his family has influence over, and it always turns into a lot of breaking and purging that Gus, most of all, doesn't want his brother to get mixed up in. Because he inevitably does— it's all the dirty work that falls into Claude's lap, and Gus'd like to avoid that, if he can.
There's a gunshot, and a piece of stone falls from the wall where a bullet hit, a few feet away from Gus's head. He doesn't flinch, and keeps on running up a flight of stairs. ]
I'll be alright, we can split up at the next intersection!
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[She means it as a joke really! She flinches at the gunshot, but keeps going up the stairs as well. At his next stated course of action, she yells back flabbergasted.]
Split up?! Are you sure about that?!
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[ Which is something he wants to avoid: if he can get her to take shelter somewhere while he shakes off his pursuers, that's ideal for him. ]
You should find somewhere to hide!
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Oh, HELL no I won't.
[And she's grabbing his arm with her right hand, with considerable force and dragging him up to the rooftop. She calls out to Oren, already formulating a messy, but quickest plan she can think of in her mind.]
OREN! Meet you on the other side!!
[He's been there the whole time after all! And he already understands what Iona's planning and is going to act accordingly. To Gus, Iona holds onto his hand firmly as they reach the roof.]
Trust me, you're gonna thank me for this.
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What the— hey, this isn't a joke!
[ Feet skid to a halt on the edge of the roof, his hand tightening around the grip of his pistol. ]
You can't stay here, you have to go!
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[Danger is no stranger to Iona and least of all, Oren. She can hear people coming up the stairs after them. No time to mince words because it's do or die and well, she kind of wants to avoid the latter. There's seemingly no one at the bottom to meet them, but it's not stopping Iona who's already stepping gingerly on the edge of the roof.]
Alright, don't blink!
[... And now she's falling backwards and pulling Gus with her. Her confidence in this action is staggering, but...]
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Oren nods at Iona who balances herself on his shoulder and then looks at Gus whom he's grabbed around the torso.]
Iona. Sir.
[They're probably not quite out of the woods yet, but thank god for Iona's co-worker, right?]
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—until gravity pulls him and he yells, a distinctly undignified whoa that gets swallowed in the seams of Oren's jacket.
This is a weird week. ]
...Gus.
[ He corrects, limp in the crook of Oren's arm, resigned to the fact that he has no idea what he's just walked into. His deflation is only momentary, though— the crack of a gun cues him in to the fact that they're still not out of the woods, yet. ]
—Hey, hey! Run!
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Drop me, hold onto him!
[And without a secondary pause, Oren obeys, letting his mistress land on her feet and whip around to see that they're still being chased.]
Just how many goons are there-...!
[Her potentially snarky commentary is cut off by the sight of one of the men in black suits, whipping out a gun and pointing it straight at Gus. There's not much time to think; her partner may have Gus, but that doesn't mean the latter is invulnerable while in his one arm.
Their real adversary isn't Oren anyways; there's another loud shot, a muffled noise of impact, and suddenly silence. Why?
Oren turns around and sets Gus down so that he has a good look at what has just occurred. The men in suits stare, shocked and confused at the woman who stuck out her right hand to block the path of the bullet that was meant for Auguste Aubert. Her hand is curled into a fist with smoke rising out of the palm. The right sleeve of her dress has disintegrated due to the crackling of magical energy that encircles her arm and the image of her arm begins to flicker in and out until it completely reveals the mineral veins and crystals embedded on the surface.
Iona stretches said arm and straightens up, opening up her fist to reveal the bullet she just caught.]
Uh, how do they say it here... Merde? Yeah. Merde. This is a first.
[She tosses the bullet playfully in the air before catching it between her fingers.]
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Ok.
........ok.
That's the general sentiment of everyone surrounding the trio right now, including the one guy still being toted around like a big dog under Oren's arm— his eyes widen to take up half his face, seemingly, and he looks back and forth between Oren, and Iona, then back at Oren, back at Iona. It's like the Old Spice commercial, except the scenery doesn't change and Iona still remains Iona with a crystal arm, no matter how many times Gus double-takes.
So. He gapes, and so do the others, who realize very quickly that the youngest Aubert kid's found two bodyguards (???) who are clearly beyond their scope of...everything, as of the moment. They curse under their breath, glare daggers at the three of them, before retreating quickly into the shadows to formulate a game plan and whisper among themselves about what the hell that was, and how they can find something like that. Eventually.
That leaves Gus, still rattled and slack-jawed.
(And Claude, rolling his eyes and putting his gun away on the rooftop of a building near them, ignoring the thin line of sweat that's gathered on his brow.) ]
...Okay?
[ This is all he manages to say, wow. ]
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