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[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".

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[infusion]

[She laughs a little, shaking her head.]

Nope. Not hurt at all. But that doesn't matter.

[Oren closes his eyes, a gesture of disapproval on his part, but remains silent; he'll have to remind her that she doesn't have to act reckless for the sake of other people (yeah, yeah, when HE does it it's fine...)

Iona gently ruffles Gus's hair with that specific hand.]

You're not hurt. No bruises and scratches on your arms this time, right?

[effet]

[ He doesn't flinch when she touches him, but he does deflate, with a long sigh that rattles his diaphragm and hunches his shoulders forward.

At least he has a name to attribute to the irregularities in Iona's behavior. She's not exactly normal, he knew that all along, but it's one thing to have a hunch and another to know it without a shadow of a doubt. ]

...I'm used to scratches and bruises, not cute girls taking bullets for me.

[ And he has an issue with that, he takes issue with the fact that she did, so, without his usual humor: ]

Don't do that. Okay?

[infusion]

H-Hey, no need to be so serious! I mean, I probably won't do that again because what are the chances to begin with, right?

[Don't do that?? While she know what those words mean, she doesn't understand it. If Iona Oakes has the capability to protect, she'll throw herself into the role of protector with gusto (because she wasn't able to do it before; she was useless, helpless, and...)

Oren leans down to pat Iona on the head. Mostly to snap her out of her thoughts and to get the attention of both of them.]

Ah... Yeah. We shouldn't be out here in the open any longer, should we? Wanna go back to my place or is there somewhere nearby we can duck into?

[effet]

[ There are a lot of things he can say in response to her assertion, but he doesn't articulate any of them, if only because it's not wise to mix her up in things that have nothing to do with her. His lips knit, along with his brows, but when he springs back, it's with a smile.

(Another thing he has in common with his half-brother: the art of the smile.) ]

Your place is probably the safest. We'll cut through a few nice places on the way there, so it won't be a total waste of a day.

[oren]

[Before Iona can answer, Oren speaks up placidly.]

Is there anyone else who would care to join us? Or will it just be us three?

[coughhiolderbrothercough Iona looks at Oren in confusion as she stands up, pulling Gus with her.]

1/2

[effet]

[ ??? What is Oren smoking, is Gus's facial reaction. ]

Huh? Who else are you even going to invi—

[ —Wait. Wait a damn second. ]

[pragnanz]

[ Haha yeah psyche it's the party pooper.

He steps out from the nearest corner, in his customary prim three-piece suit, his expression a mild mixture of exasperation and detachment. ]

Auguste.

...Miss Iona, Oren.

[ Gus looking confused count: rising. Claude, on his end, looks composed enough. ]

I trust you've all been better, so I won't ask. Shall we go, then?

[infusion]

... Ah. Ahhhhhh. [Iona throws up her arms in an exasperated fashion. Well, that confirms that!!]

Alright. Talk later, back to the Grind first. I feel like we're gonna take a while to sort things out, so Oren, tea for everyone and sandwiches if there's enough supplies.

[Oren bows his head in compliance and is first to walk ahead to make sure the paths aren't filled with goons before allowing Gus to lead the way.

What a tangle they've gotten themselves into indeed.]