driftfleet | enchanted forest . mingle

[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?

He has lots of stories. Most people know the one with the beanstalk... Where he climbs it, slays a giant living at the top, and comes back down rich and famous. There's also a princess and... a cow, or something.

[he is not a very good storyteller. he is also, perhaps, less poetic in his associations.]

Hange slays giants too. Calls them "Titans". Seems like she'd take big gambles like he does, too. Bet she'd be good at them.

I see what you mean. I think you're right... she's quite brave.

[she's heard bits and pieces about Hange's life over the network, but has never quite asked her about them personally. She's... nervous. When she thinks about Hange fighting such terrifying sounding creatures, it creates a flutter in her chest that she can't quash. But she lives a dangerous life, and whenever she speaks of home there's an obvious longing. She's quiet for a few minutes, mulling over these thoughts. But she breaks the silence when she opens her eyes and glances back at Zhas. Better, she seems better, calmed]

Thank you.

[he glances back after the silence. it doesn't show, but he's surprised to hear her say that. he was just... doing what he always does. his vow to appear as a ghost in the mortal world doesn't usually get him a lot of 'thank you's.

but that's... what they do in the land of the living, he supposes. he nods a little, just to acknowledge that he heard her, and continues them forward.

speaking of ghosts, they haven't run into his yet. what could it be, he wonders? a battle? more monsters to fight? Hel, perhaps, gloating at him from just beyond the branches. it would--the place seems vengeful.]

[her lips twitch as he nods. A sad, small smile, but she stops and just lets her face rest as they travel in silence for a time. While he's thinking about his challenges, she's mulling over the after effects of her own.

She wonders if Zhas will eventually ask what that was all about. Maybe not, now that she thinks about it. Which in turn makes her wonder if she should talk about it. She knows that she should, eventually. While it likely won't effect anything here, if worst comes to worst it could cause trouble for the crew.

Ah, but she realizes that she's been stewing in her thoughts for a while, that's dangerous. She tries to anchor her mind more to the present, and observe the woods around them. What was once peaceful innocent trees could now be filled with anything. She glances at Zhas, then back at the trees]

These woods seemed so peaceful from the outside.

[...the observation makes the corners of his mouth quirk up in a short smile, though it's for all of the wrong reasons. it's just funny that she thinks that. he thought the woods were bad news from the start, and is naturally distrusting of anything that appears peaceful.

maybe he was going to say something to that--but he suddenly stops dead in his tracks, because something whispers at them. it's a voice that he recognizes--a voice he's known since he was small, always there, always present, until he was brought here, and...

where is she? she can't be here. he's looking through the trees, surroundings momentarily forgotten.]

[When she sees him stiffen up, she stops her chair. She looks around wildly, trying to suss out exactly what it is that made him stop. But she doesn't see anything... so she switches gears and tries to concentrate. They're so soft that she can barely hear them, she's amazed he could so quickly...

And when she glances back at him, she frowns, concerned.]

Zhas-- Who is that?

[...ah, Nunnally is still here. they're still in a forest. she isn't... he comes back to reality for a moment, looking down at her, trying to fathom a way to say anything, let alone give her an explanation. something about the sound of it makes his throat close up. he glances back up at the woods--

and she's waiting for him. a woman is standing just off the edge of the path ahead of them. something about her is very scary... she stands straight, but her long red hair drips in messy waves around her shoulders, a robe barely clutched around her too-thin form. her skin is very pale. her eyes are unfriendly, sharp and blood-red.

she says Zhas' name. she sounds... put out, like an annoyed mother.

Zhas isn't moving.]

[her breath catches in her throat as she follows Zhas's gaze and spots the woman. 'Terrifying', is her first thought, but her eyes linger on the loose grip on her robes, her malnourished face, her familiar tone. This is... someone important to him, and if his reaction is anything to go by she is someone deeply important.

But what he did for her, she wants to do in return. Holding his hand seems... she doesn't want to startle him, so instead she reaches her hand to gently touch the cuff of his jacket sleeve. A physical anchor to what is real]

These are all illusions. I'm... [why does she want to apologize? Because her heart aches to imagine Zhas missing someone the way she dreads her brother]

Let's keep walking. Everything will be alright.

[the hand on his sleeve is a very good idea. he seems to transfixed by her. he looks like he wants to say something, run to her. he can't tear his eyes away from her.

he suddenly grabs Nunnally's hand. he holds it tighter than he should, but he can feel her bones underneath her skin. startled heartbeat just below flesh, against his own fingers. she is real. she is real and she is next to him. this woman is just...

she doesn't say anything. she doesn't have to say anything. Zhas knows what he's done. it weighs on him when he finally takes a step, and then another, but he manages to glance away. to the side. down. anywhere that's not her.

he's sorry. he's so, so sorry.]

[she gasps slightly, involuntarily, when he grabs her hand. But she quickly adjusts and tries to squeeze his hand slightly in return, although she can barely move her own hand in his tight grip. As he begins to take his steps, she tugs at his hand slightly, tugging it forward, and begins to move her chair at a pace that is only slightly faster than his own.

She would say something, but she can feel... a lot from touch. A skill she's honed over years of being unable to read expressions. But she tries not to pay too much attention to any signals that she might be sensing. no, in such a personal moment it would be quite wrong.

So instead she starts to sing softly. It's an old song that her main would sing to her from time to time. It's one that she doesn't know the words too, but she knows the tune fondly, so she simply sings in 'la' tones... It's a clumsy rendition, but she hopes it's different enough from the humming that he heard over the radio.]

[this whole thing feels clumsy and confusing. his legs are heavy; though he steps with outward certainty, he's a mess underneath. the sound that Nunnally makes startles and confuses him, pulling at most of his attention, though... when he realizes it's a song, and she's singing for him, he feels...

like he's being filled with water. it's a deep sense of something, but he wouldn't know how to describe it any better than that.

it keeps his eyes off of Saoirse as her disapproving gaze follows them down the road. walking away is even harder, but the thought of a song... another song, is a good thought. a strong thought. a nice thought, of which he doesn't have many.

it's almost palpable, when she leaves. Zhas' grip lingers longer than it should, but his fingers eventually ease up and slip away from Nunnally.]

[It doesn't feel too long in Nunnally's eyes. As she sings softly and they walk it feels like a moment of mutual support. Two people both in pain, but holding one another up in turns. So she looses track of time for a moment, until she feels the twitch of his muscles as his hand begins to move. She lets go, and her own song reaches its final moments. As it ends she pauses... What he did for her helped immensely, so she ponders on the song itself]

At a certain age, my brother hired a woman to look after me. She sang me that song sometimes at night, when I was scared... It was a story about a young girl who was forced to work across a mountain, very far away from her family. She sounded sad in the song, but also hopeful... like she would return to happier days someday.

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