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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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[ataraxic]

Ah, Jackie didn't tell you yet?

[He rests his cup on the table before answering.]

Carpentry. Some metalwork when I feel like it. But I guess my "real" work is house renovation.

[None of these occupations sound the least bit magic oddly enough.]

[effet]

[ Yeah, all of this is...surprisingly tame, though to be fair, Iona's outward occupation as a employee at a coffeeshop is just as innocuous. ]

You build... houses?

[ How does one put this delicately... ]

...With... magic?

[ Right, you don't. ]

[ataraxic]

[Solomon shakes his head.]

I try not to use too much magic in my work. [There's a bit of a warm twinkle in his eye when he says that part.] I might sneak a bit in, but otherwise it's all hands on.

I help build houses, yes, but I'm more of a makeover guy. Go into an old place, make it new again add some nice things I might have made myself.

[He pats the bench and table he's sitting on.]

Like this for instance. I add my own touches, magic and non-magic.

[effet]

[ Gus supposes he understands...some of this, to an extent. Enchantments, right? Something being imbued with magic, maybe just for sturdiness's sake. It makes sense. ]

Maybe you can build a nice enchanted cottage for me and Iona...

[ Keep dreaming, nerd. He says that under his breath, though, and follows it up with something a little more serious. ]

Must be nice. You have little pieces of yourself all over the world!

1/2

[ataraxic]

[If Oren heard that...

Solomon smiles and he takes another sip of coffee. He keeps his work mostly in the States, but he decides it isn't a necessary correction to make.]

I do my best. Warlocks and witches might as well do something that can contribute.

[It's kind of a sobering thing to say, but before any of that can sink in...]

[infusion]

—Sully! Back three days in a row? That's a new record!

[The door has opened, and who else could it be, but Iona herself, dressed in a long indigo skirt and a cream top, tote bag slung over her shoulder.]

Awesome, you even finished the bench and—...

[WELL, that's not just some random blonde isn't it? She stops at the sight of Gus, blinking once, twice—]

Gus?

1/3?!

[effet]

[ Gus, like a trained dog (down, boy), jerks up in his chair when he hears Iona's voice— because it is her, isn't it, there's no mistaking that. ]

Ion—

[ Her name is halfway out of his mouth when his foot snags against the carpet, sending him crashing facefirst back onto the table. ]

—Ionaaa...

[effet]

[ CLAWING HIMSELF UP... SLOWLY... OFF OF THE TABLE, hoping he doesn't have a bloody nose... ]

[effet]

[ His nose is absolutely bleeding, but god, HE'S GOING TO SMILE. ]

—Iona!! Good evening to you, lovely lovely Iona!!

[ GUS YOU'RE BLEEDING ON THE TABLE ]

[ataraxic]

[GUS... YIKES MAN...

Solomon isn't sure how to feel about this except that he can probably understand why Iona fears for this boy's life. He takes a napkin from the counters and hands it to Gus while Iona sets down her tote wincing at the bloody nose.]

Buddy. You got a little something there...

[effet]

Huh? Yeah, no, this is— fine, I've had worse.

[ Dodgerolling through alleys, falling out of second-story windows, you know. The usual.

He holds the napkin up ti his face, though, to plug up his nose as he waves with his free (slightly bloody) hand. ]

Enough about me! Iona! How are you?! It's been too long, did you miss me?!

1/2

[infusion]

...

[SHE SUDDENLY FLICKS HIS FOREHEAD (with her left hand mind you) before going to the back to change. She seems... Annoyed?!]

[ataraxic]

[Huh. Solomon raises a brow at his sister's action and wipes the blood off the table before explaining to Gus:]

Yeah. She did.

[effet]

[ Ah. This is upsetting to know, even if a part of him is happy that she missed him.

So, of course, since he's a firecracker at all time: Gus springs to his feet, tries to scrabble after Iona like a puppy that's been denied a walk. ]

Iona?! Iona... I was...! I'm...! I'm sorry!! I didn't mean it!

[ What is he even apologizing for anymore? Even he doesn't know. ]

[ataraxic]

I guess bleeding all over the floor didn't help...

[Nothing that a bit of small magic can't fix. Solomon's free hand hovers over the messy spots and when he lifts it up, it's all gone. Convenient!]

But you were gone for a LONG time.

[effet]

[ Whoa!! Gus needs to learn how to do that, even though he doesn't have a speck of magical talent in him...

He's still going to drape over the front counter, though, awaiting Iona's return. ]

Not because I wanted to be away! And I couldn't write her a letter...

[ Huh. ]

...Or could I have?! Does this place have an address?!

1/2

[ataraxic]

If it's a door that is everywhere, but nowhere at once, I don't think addresses would be able to pin it down.

Although, I'm sure Oren wouldn't mind taking messages, would you Oren?

[Solomon calls out to the back...]

[oren]

Not the postman.

[Well. He didn't say no...]

[effet]

It's being the postman or seeing Iona sad!

[ LOGIC. ]

[infusion]

I'm done with being sad.

[Iona returns from the back, dressed in her work clothes and plopping down next to Solomon, looking over at Gus, granting him a smile at the very least.]

With the way you're arguing with Oren though, it's like you never left. Ah, glad you got to meet Sully though.

[Iona leans on her brother's shoulder briefly as Solmon just chuckles warmly.]

[effet]

Iona...

[ And, well. For a split second, he looks like he wants to bridge the distance between them, but he's not so much sheepish as he is still apologetic for leaving her in the dark. So he shuffles his feet, stays lounging by the front counter as he scuffs his dirty shoes against the flooring. ]

I wouldn't say I left. Just... you know.

[ But he nods about being glad to have met Solomon, because he sincerely is. ]

If I can make it up to you...

[ataraxic]

Well, first thing's first. Should I leave you two alone? Well, alone with Oren anyways.

[Solomon's only half-joking at least. He glances at Gus.]

You'll probably see me again if Iona lets you stick around.

[effet]

Private is better, but... Iona will fill you in later about everything, probably.

[ Which is his way of saying 'I'll definitely see you again', because he has every intention of sticking around like a persistent plague. The Plague of Gus.

And, as an addendum, under his breath: ] ...you can also take Oren with you...

[oren]

Pardon?

[Sorry Gus, there's a hand on your head. IS HE GOING TO CRUSH IT WHO KNOWS...

Also, Solomon's waving, bye bum.]

[effet]

[ OREN... WOULD YOU TRULY DO THIS TO GUS RN!!!

Cue nervous sweating. ]

Pardonne, pardonne!! I just thought...! It would be better if the mother weren't here...