driftfleet | enchanted forest . mingle

[just going for it, huh? His decisive movements give her a bit more confidence, and she pushes her chair a bit faster to catch up, and then slows it down to match his pace as best she can. She glances up at him, then back at the forest]

Is this your first attempt going inside?

[as she looks at it some more she can't help but think it's pretty]

[he shakes his head. he's keeping his eyes more or less on the road, because most of his attention is going to his hearing. it makes him seem a little less paranoid than he is when he's in the city--there's a lot less to look at, and he knows what to listen for.]

[she nods, and watches him further to see what he's doing. Listening? Hmm. She speaks again in a softer tone]

Would it be easier if I was quiet as we travel? [she asks in a tone that implies she wouldn't be offended if the answer was yes]

Edited 2015-01-16 09:05 (UTC)

[he shakes his head. he doesn't really mind, since...]

It's a long trip.

That's true. [hmm, she trundles along, pausing before she begins talking again]

I'm sure that the strange music that everyone was hearing is coming from here. I wonder what might be hiding in the center...?

[he doesn't like to think about it... even with what Hange told him, he can't shake the feeling that he's going to run into someone he knows in the center, waiting for him. he glances at her, after a moment, as something suddenly occurs to him.]

What did you hear.

[ah, she returns his look, then looks back forward. She's weighing options in her mind. Most of the time she just defaults to deflecting as much as she can, but Zhas...]

It sounded like the national anthem from my home. It was sung by a large choir, like the ones I heard as a little girl.

[she kinda wants to ask what he heard, and the indecision shows on her face]

[national anthem, necromancer hymns, a music box... he's hesitant to bring up his own music as well, but it is Nunnally... she's young, she might understand.]

Someone humming.

[he doesn't want to say his "mother" or his "master"... both of these things would seem out of place here.]

Ah... [huh... her song instilled a sense of quiet fear, but also memories of her mother telling her to sit still, and her brother when he was young, holding his finger to his lips in a playful shushing manner. Good with the bad, but so nostalgic...]

Someone important? [it's the sort of question that she doesn't expect an answer beyond a nod or head shake]

[and he does nod, predictably. nothing else really needs to be said about it. he sends his gaze back to the path.]

[even though he turns away and can't see it, she nods and follows for a time in silence. Perhaps it's now because she's thinking about sounds and music, but she's focusing now on the sounds of the forest. Rustling leaves, the crunching dirt as Zhas walks, the whir of her chair, footsteps.

Footsteps?

She looks sharply over her shoulder to the left, slowing her chair down for a second and then resuming her previous speed. She doesn't see anything, but she asks in a hushed voice]

Do you hear footsteps? [to her it sounds like a single person, walking slowly through the woods beyond sight]

[he heard the footsteps as well, but one of the first rules of vampire hunting is not to let them know that you know they're there--so his pace stays the same and he keeps his eyes on the road and he listens, very carefully, to everything going on around him.

with the question, though, that blows their cover a little. what could it be? not the gigantic titans it tried to trick them with earlier. he nods to her, finally looking back a little himself.]

[she looks back ahead, staring straight down the road]

Part of the challenge is to stay on the path, right? It's probably just a distraction.

[she's trying so hard to stare ahead, but her eyes dart to Zhas every once in a while. She doesn't yet notice that between the trees a lanky young man in fancy white outfit watching them]

[he nods, slowly. another illusion. white stands out against the forest pretty starkly, so he ends up tracking the motion--no one he recognizes, but they move like a human. his senses aren't telling him its dangerous (though they are telling him that the whole thing is subtly wrong, in a way he can't quite put his finger on).

is the man just going to follow them the whole way? if the Titans were there when Hange was with them, then this person must be someone that Nunnally would recognize...

he touches Nunnally's shoulder, just a little nudge.]

Keep looking ahead. [a pause.] You're doing well.

[she nods at his advice, and tries to smile back as a reply but the result is rather strained. She has no reason to be scared, she tells herself over and over again, yet light anxiety flutters in the pit of her stomach.

Hange and Zhas and Coil were here earlier. He wouldn't come again if it would result in anything terrible. Whatever trials they might face they should be ignored. If they stay to the path--

But her mind goes blank when the figure calls out her name. His tone is both authoritative and concerned. She knows that voice too intimately and for too long to doubt for a second who it is. Her body stiffens, and her head nearly turns to the side where the voice originates before she looks back ahead and bites on her lower lip. Between her stiff posture, her white knuckles as she clutches the arms of her chair, and the suddenly deliberate nature of her breathing... His guess was right on, she knows this person]

He- [she swallows, but her voice is still unsteady when she starts again] It is impossible to consider that he is here. T-This is just an illusion? [she doesn't look at Zhas, but she remembers his ability. Seeing magic, right? She wonders if he can see this]

[...he shoots the figure a dirty look. he doesn't even realize he does it; as if glaring daggers at an illusion would do anything. Nunnally is upset, though, and he doesn't like it when girls get upset.

it's so hard to tell. it's a very strong illusion. it's like remembering something you did earlier, only to realize you were only dreaming that you did it--and only then do the irregularities and mistakes start to fall into place.]

He is not really here. [he says this with a deliberation he doesn't usually put into his words.] Who is he?

[she nods, and stares straight ahead intently. If she looks at him, even for a second... She doesn't trust herself, nor does she know what emotions would bubble to the surface. But Zhas's words, she clings to them and forces them to roll around her mind. They do nothing to ease the tension she feels, but she can reply at least]

My b- [careless, she can feel herself being careless and vulnerable and she's slipping]

The current Emperor of the Britannian Empire-- but people call him the Demon King Lelouch vi Britannia.

[Emperor...] He would never be on another planet, and we're not on Earth. And he would never be in a forest without his guard-- [take a breath in, then out. Yes it has to be an illusion]

Hm.

[there's a lot to what she's saying. he keeps watching the man in white; he feels as though the forest might try something worse the moment he averts his eyes. the "Demon King"? coming from a world of "Vagrant King" and "Red Queen" and his own nicknames, it doesn't seem like that strange a title.

he's feeling very protective of Nunnally, as she speaks. about as protective as he'd be for his own mm--ah, but he's doing that too, isn't he?

he stops walking. he reaches for one of Nunnally's tense little hands and drops down to one knee, holding her fingers in his own.]

Look at me.

[there's a slight sharp inhale of surprise as he bends down, but she does hold tightly to his hand when he offers it, looking at his face directly. Every breath attempts to calm her fingers, and prevent her eyes from darting away. Her mouth is set in a thin, tight line...]

O-Okay.

[the figure in white watches for a moment, before turning and going deeper into the treeline. She sees it slightly in the peripheral of her vision, but is determined not to look]

[...that's good. he can see it leaving too, out of the corner of his eye, though he stays focused on Nunnally's face in turn.]

What's your favorite story.

I-It's-- [ugh she's so emotional and embarrassed for being emotional, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.]

Cinderella. [it's her old answer from childhood. A young girl exiled from a noble life who overcomes trials with kindness] We can talk and walk, I'm alright.

[or she will be. She can keep her eyes closed for a bit and just follow his footsteps]

[...he nods a little, putting her hand gently back where he got it from. he won't question her. he will keep an eye on her track and make sure she doesn't stray, but he believes that she'll be okay. he stands and walks. let them be rid of these shadows.]

I don't know that one very well...

It's a good story. [she keeps her eyes closed, and does a good job of staying quite close, but not so close that she'll bump her chair into him. She's staying closer than she normally would, but that's just due to the comfort that she's drawing from Zhas's pressense right now]

A young girl lives with her father, but he dies suddenly after marrying another woman. The step mother is horrible, she and her daughters force Cinderella to work as their serving maid. But she tries her hardest to remain kind and gentle, and in the end it's this inner strength that allows her to sneak away to a ball. There, she falls in love with a prince, and despite her circumstances, he still searches for her and they get married.

[her voice is steadier now, but still soft in volume, and lacking in energy] I heard it when I was young, but when I became older I thought that she was a really brave hero, in her own way.

...That does sound nice.

[they seems to be getting far from the illusion, now. maybe it will leave them alone. the story was partly to get her to focus and calm down, maybe take her thoughts away from the rest of the forest... but he has a genuine interest in stories, as well.]

Hange reminds me of Jack the Giant Killer.

I don't think I know that story.

[it's working, just focusing on the stories, the crunching of his gait, and the wind in the trees]

How is she like him?

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