[M'ways] Room 1001

[dejah_thoris]

It was after dinner and she'd finished up her work for the day. She shook out her hand, stretched the muscles of her fingers, hoping that the tendon would stretch with it.  It hurt more and more with each passing day, but she had other things to worry about.  Curtis was supposed to meet her after he'd worked out and checked on Edgar.

That was two hours ago.  She finally broke down and touched two fingers to her bracelet.  It pulsed blue and she got the sense he was in his room.  Strange.  She touched it again, just to be sure.  No, he was there.  Alive and attached to the pendant.

She decides to go down and say hello, find out if everything's okay.  A few minutes later, she's knocking at his door.  

"Curtis?"

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

There's a huge section of ground that looks like it's been trampled. Thoroughly.

Dejah's standing there with a puzzled look on her face. "This doesn't make any sense at all."

Woola is darting around in ever widening circles, trying to find the scent again. But it's no use. Edgar is Not Here.

[2goodarms]

He doesn't see it right away. The mud and grass along the lakeshore got churned up a hell of a lot by whatever happened there; to the untrained eye, one smashed, reedy-looking plant doesn't look too different from another.

But there's a ball of them that looks a little more together than the rest. Like somebody wove it.

Like a picnic basket.

The chill sinks lower into Curtis' gut, washing through his arm and chest. Slowly, he sinks to a crouch next to the ruined basket, reaching out to touch what used to be its handle.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah puts a hand on his shoulder. "There's no blood. Whatever happened here, he was not injured. But Curtis, look at these. These look like thoat tracks to me. If I had to read the ground here, I'd say he was knee deep in the mud here," she pointed to a soupier bit of the muck.

There's more disturbance in the mud a few feet away, and she points again, "And something tried to trample him. Something large. But something small -- a juvenile thoat? Issus this is strange. It looks like a juvenile thoat stood between a prone Edgar and a larger thoat. And then they both ran that way."

That way being where Woola is standing in the grass, his nose lifted. A moment later he comes back to Dejah, a decidedly dejected look on his face.

[2goodarms]

This close to the lake, he thinks, no blood might not mean much. The water eases back and forth over the shoreline all the time -- it'd be easy to wash the blood clean.

But if some tracks are stil intact, maybe it hasn't been that long.

And did she say --

"Thoat tracks?" He looks up, shock and worry parting under the sharpness of his gaze. If she's surprised to see them, and there's only one other Barsoomian who could've brought some kind of native Martian animal to Milliways -- "Does Tars keep any here?"

If Tars did anything to Edgar, Curtis will fucking end him.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah shakes her head with a dry laugh. "He is a Jeddak, not a thoat master. He rides one, and I've seen it tied outside the stables before. But that doesn't explain the little one. Here. And here."

She's pointing to the clear marks in the dark soil above the bank. "I may not have been hunting for many moons, Curtis Everett, but I can still read sign. Especially in ground this soft and wet. Whatever happened here, Edgar got away unscathed."

[2goodarms]

And then disappeared, if that woeful look on Woola's face is anything to go by.

Curtis lets out a long, long sigh, plants his hand in the mud, and heaves himself back up. Edgar isn't hurt. Wherever he is, he isn't hurt. He's just...going to have to be grateful for that, for now.

He scrubs his muddy palm against the top of his thigh, cleaning off as much of the gunk as he can, and doesn't look at Dejah.

[dejah_thoris]

"Hey," she touches his arm, fingers light as a feather.

"We'll find him. You've said it to me time and time again. This place is strange beyond the kenning of it. And Edgar is a warrior in his own right. If he has been taken captive, you should pity whoever made that poor decision."

[2goodarms]

Several beats go by.

Then, the side of Curtis' mouth rises. "He'll rip 'em a fucking new one," he agrees.

[dejah_thoris]

"Absolutely," Dejah smiles at him, her own expression far more subdued. She's never seen him so worried.

Woola came over to Curtis's side and gave a sympathetic growl. It's very clear, he's up for kicking whoever's ass is responsible for this.

"Come on. Waiting out here won't do us any good. Let's go back to your room, and I'll leave a note for bar to keep an eye out for him."

[2goodarms]

Curtis' smile, though still faint, evens out. He offers his hand to Woola.

"...You think we could check the infirmary again first?"

He's telling himself, as firmly as possible, that there's no point to doing another sweep outside if Woola didn't turn up anything. Inside? That's another matter. In his head, inside and outside still don't quite connect; they feel as far apart as Earth and Barsoom.

[dejah_thoris]

Woola awkwardly nudges his broad brow under Curtis's hand, still rumbling his disapproval of whatever has his charges so upset.

"Woola, inside. Garage. Library. Everywhere."

Woola's face screws up in confusion.

"Go!" Dejah's voice takes on that hard edge again.

Woola gives Dejah a short gruff sound and disappears, heading back to the bar.

Dejah turns back to Curtis. "Yes, we can stop by the infirmary. Have you eaten yet this morning?"

[2goodarms]

Curtis hesitates. Uncertain, "I think I did?"

He must have, somewhere in there. Right? He doesn't feel hungry, anyway, so it's not like it matters.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's chin drops and her eyebrows rise.

"You need to eat, love. Come on. Let's get something from the bar. I can leave a note with the bar and then check in with Woola while you eat. But you need to eat."

[2goodarms]

"I'm not hungry." He scrubs his hand over his hat, trying not to scowl. "I'm fine. Can we not do this now?"

[dejah_thoris]

She sighs and gives him a long look. "All right," she says, quiet. "But when you're a bastard later, I'm going to lock you in a room with a sandwich."

She tries for a bit of lightness. Something to break the dark spiral she can see him slipping into. She offers her hand to him, blue eyes searching his face for -- something.

[2goodarms]

He's exhausted and fraught enough that his old impulses nearly take control: reject everything Dejah's offering and run. Go be -- not alone somewhere, but not here.

Curtis smashes that impulse flat. (It's getting easier, he notes. That's something, too, at least.)

He takes her hand, fingers twining tight with hers. "Okay," he whispers. It's all he can say, right now.

[dejah_thoris]

She exhales, a modicum of tension leaving her body as he accepts her touch. She holds tight to his hand and leans her shoulder against his.

"If Woola finds something, he'll come find us. I'm sorry I didn't think of that sooner."

Her voice drops down to barely more than a whisper. "And when Edgar gets back, if you want, I can make him a pendant, too."

[2goodarms]

Curtis breathes out. "That might be a good idea," he mumbles.

If Edgar's okay with it. Maybe even if he's not, to be honest. He can't fucking lose the kid again, he can't.

[dejah_thoris]

She walks in silence beside him, biting back all the words she wants to pour over him, to try to assure him of things neither one of them can know for sure.

Instead, she tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and lays her head on his shoulder.

"Let's check inside again," she murmurs.

Like she checked that balcony over and over again. For years.

[2goodarms]

He nods. Stays silent.

What if the same force that dragged them here after death dragged Edgar somewhere else? Curtis doesn't really believe in an afterlife -- Milliways notwithstanding -- but he's overheard people describe the bar as a rest stop en route to whatever's next.

What if that's where Edgar went? To the whatever's next?

[dejah_thoris]

Her first instinct is to take the lead, holding the door of the bar open for him and cutting a swathe through the room straight for the bar. Woola appears a moment after they sit and his expression says his search was fruitless. Dejah sighs and lays a hand on the calot's broad brow.

"Thank you, my friend."

Woola shuffles around her to Curtis and gently nudges his leg.

[2goodarms]

Curtis musters up a tiny, unfelt smile.

"Yeah," he says, and leans down to give Woola another pat. "Good calot."

Not his fault Edgar's dropped off the face of the bar.

[dejah_thoris]

Woola can feel the waves of worry coming off Curtis and his Dejah, and it makes him grumble. He paces off towards the back door, and the moment someone opens it, he's through.

"He'll keep looking until we find him," Dejah says, her voice quiet. She catches his hand and brings it to her knee beneath the bar.

"Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

[2goodarms]

She always wants him to talk. A brief flare of irritation stings his mind; he shakes his head, keeps his fingers tight around hers.

"Same shit I already told you," he mumbles.

It's not worth repeating.

[dejah_thoris]

She swallows, tries not to sigh. They'd promised each other, they'd try to talk at the very least. And he's tried. She thinks. She hopes.

She asks bar for a couple of mugs of tea, Earl Grey to be specific.

"So did he ever tell you about our conversation by the lake?"