#thr 2 brokeassgoing

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Legato has been mostly ignoring the other occupant of Knives' home, partly because he doesn't like the idea of Knives being so enamored with another human and partly because he doesn't really have much to say to him. Especially after the incident between Badou and Knives in the forest where the Plant came back mauled.

He's been tolerating the other human for Knives' sake. Ignore him and it will be fine for both of them.

Now though Legato is a mess, and he knew he'd have a bad reaction to this stuff but he hadn't anticipated it being quite this awful. After the second mirror he'd broken in terror he and Knives had turned or covered all the rest of the reflective surfaces they could find, giving him a chance to breathe without feeling like the home he was staying in was a minefield.

He was sat on the couch, the house smelling of a pot roast he had cooking, a cup of tea in his hands, when the door opened and the other human occupant walked in. Legato turned his head just enough to visually acknowledge him before curling even smaller on the couch.

Both hands were bandaged from glass cuts, his coat was missing, he looked disheveled and exhausted. He'd convinced Knives he was alright for the moment while the Plant went to get more groceries but now he was left with nothing to do to distract himself from the images on repeat in his head. The only available distraction now was...

"You're back," he says quietly, voice rough from his screaming panic earlier. "I don't suppose you've found more then anyone else about this mess?"

@brokeassgoing

[drunkelreporter]

14

14. for  an  action / adventure  starter .

Roberto is beginning to think that Badou might have about the same amount of luck as Vash does, which is to say, none at all. Sure, he's good at his job, he gets good info and he and Roberto trade back and forth all the time. But he also seems to trip into everyone and everything that wants to end him. Roberto manages to avoid the fallout more often then not, because he's not about getting mixed up in all of that, but every once and a while it crops up in his vicinity.

Luckily, Roberto is very well versed in turning trouble aimed at him or his into trouble aimed at other people. All it takes is a few clever words, a few suggestions to tipsy patrons in the bar around them, and a sneakily tossed drink, and the group of assholes aiming for his drinking partner of the night are in the middle of a bar fight instead.

Of course, the downside of bar fights is that they have a tendency to spiral and fill the entire space instead of staying contained.

"Kid, if I wasn't already used to this kind of thing I'd be inclined to think you're more trouble then you're worth," Roberto grumbles with no real heat as he ducks a thrown mug and takes cover under a table. "You really know how to piss people off, don't you?"

It's almost like being back home, with yet more people chasing after Vash. Granted, these aren't armed and shooting at them, nor are they after millions of double dollars, so it's actually less stressful. Still familiar though.

[ttauriwanderer]

When Badou had hunted him down, Steven had been confused. It wasn't like he was hiding, he was running around and engaging with the festivals and doing work with the adventurer's guild, not hiding away or anything. But... alright, maybe he'd been avoiding finding Astarion again, which was clearly not a good way of dealing with things.

He couldn't help but be a little nervous about meeting him again, regardless of the knowledge that Astarion hadn't been himself. Steven hadn't died like that before, in such a violent manner, fully expecting that to have been the end of him. He hadn't wanted to die, he'd struggled against it, but had tried so hard to tell Astarion that it was okay and it wasn't his fault.

But. That shouldn't matter. He shouldn't be letting his nerves get the better of him and Badou makes it perfectly clear that Astarion needs to see him. Steven scolds himself. He's a Captain, he needs to be stronger then this. His friend needs him and he will not let his nerves get in the way of helping Astarion. This is a flaw he needs to overcome.

So he goes. He and Badou go to find Astarion and boy do they.

"Hey, hey, breathe Astarion, you're okay. It's me, I'm here." He reaches out, not quite touching but inviting Astarion to close the distance if he wants to. With the absolutely obvious panic, he doesn't want to trigger Astarion even more by touching him unexpectedly.

He flicks a glance back at Badou, eyebrows raised. Is this how he's been since? Steven is pretty sure that Badou would have mentioned such a drastic reaction if he'd been this... disturbed before.

@brokeassgoing

Memories Hurt Less Now You're Here ||@brokeassgoing @ttauriwanderer||

Astarion had been on edge, haunting the festival since he'd brokered Badou to find Steven. Chaos, insanity, pain, all plagued his mind, enough that even Jeremiah was writhing in discomfort.

Right. Jeremiah. He wonders if the distance from his homeworld is what kept the little guy from being so chaotic as he had been before. Must be all the Mind Flayers and cult shit or something.

Eyes draw him to a stall, he swore it was a Tiefling behind the counter but he wasn't sure anymore. He smiled from behind the pain, trauma instincts making him play the part of a handsome young man that eagerly flirts. Eyes drift over the wares as he chatters along, they were all from his world, old fabrics with familiar markings, tinctures, potions, spell scrolls. Oh how Gale would have loved to read the books on magic beside them.

What he doesn't expect, is to find a plushie of a Displacer Beast. Vicious things, so he's heard, but someone took the time to make it cute. Soft round muzzle, big pleading eyes, gentle smile around the paw stuffed in it's mouth like a kitten suckling for comfort.

Delicate fingers lift the toy, eyes softening as he looks into the large, rounded eyes, the soft glossiness to the orbs reflecting red back.

The world swiftly fell away, pain ripped into his left eye. It took everything he'd learnt not to scream in agony as one hand shot up to grip at his skull.

What was it now? Was someone trying to control Jer? Was he in danger? This felt like whenever he connected with the others. With a held breath of hope he closed his eyes, gripping the plush close and opened himself to the messages of the worm.

What he got shattered everything, his whole world ripped upside down, memories zipping by faster than he can process, blinding him to the world he stood in. A pained whimper left him, unable to hear the woman ask if he was okay as he staggered a step.

Darkness, wings, a tendril, rotten fleshy meat, a man so desperate for his family, immortal, Sharran trials, a forge, told to detonate for consideration of forgiveness, time's running out on the infernal bomb. More as he tilts his head; the dream visitor is a mind flayer, the idiot bard ate the fucking worm and veins blackened. The next fight he'd exploded into a Displacer to protect the people, the changelings, book shop, Mystra, prayers, a cat, a general pigeon?

"Ah, fuck. Stop, Jeremiah!" He snarls the words through the pain and the fear. It was too much, it was all his vision, his thoughts, his actions, his friends, and yet-

Baldur's Gate. They were home, they were-

"No!" He backs up into the tent without meaning to, hiding in the corner even as he moved forward in the memories.

The manor, his siblings, the kennels, Godey, deeper, deeper, the catacombs, the ritual, he finally understood, he knew what the scars were, only ever a body for someone to use and throw out when they were done. Enraged he stood over pale skin, glared down, old red met the scarlet inferno that was him. A choice to make, sacrifice or slaughter, power or vengeance, to have all that the bastard desired, or to be better than him.

To kill thousands, or just one.

"NO!" He screams the word in terror, reminded all over again of the horror of the moss as he's ripped back to the present by a scent. By warmth. Jeremiah had gone dormant again, taking the brunt of the trauma of the sudden rush, too tired to do more than murmur soft assurances.

Red snapped around and honed in hard on the source of that scent, meeting those familiar eyes, no longer filled with terror, no longer empty and void of life, right beside the man meant to bring him there, witnessing a panicked meltdown in a tent clutching the plush for dear life.

Never before has the color of honey looked so good.

"S... Steven?"

[bluestringpuppeteer]

"Good. Then you can wash dishes, since I cooked." Smug as can be, Legato gets up and proceeds to start putting away leftovers. Knives will want some when he comes back home and there's plenty enough that it won't all be gone for another day or so.

Legato fully expects the dishes to be done, if Badou knows what's good for him.

Yeah, Badou's days are numbered. He can see it in those sharp eyes of Legato's.

But he'll try his best. He tries for a stupid little peace sign, cheeky--

"Nope! It'll be fine. Probably."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Legato's smile is small and a little mean, but there's more mischief to it then malice. Unpracticed in friendly banter that might still be a threat, but still working on it.

"Good to know we are firmly on the same page in that regard. I won't have to remind you to mind where you leave your mess then." Attempting to strangle him with his own mess isn't really hurting him, it's not like Legato would kill him for it. It's all in good fun and banter among roommates. That's all.

Nothing sinister here at all.

Badou lives with that-- the one time he decided to make it his business, he shouldn't have. He's learned that lesson, hard

Somehow he's still rather nosy.

The info broker laughs, an ugly bark of a sound, but genuinely amused. "You'll suffocate me with that shit, don't even joke! We both know that."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

That's part of what makes Badou acceptable for Legato: a highly developed ability to look at a situation, think 'that's kind of fucked up', and then decide it's absolutely none of his business until someone makes it his business. Legato likes that in a human

"Mmm. I've noticed that too," Legato say dryly. "At some point I'll take to picking up all of your messes and simply putting them in your room for you to deal with at your own convenience, since you insist upon making them in the first place." He will, don't test him Badou.

Hey, he doesn't know the history-- only what he's been told, and things he's seen between them. Granted, he wouldn't change his tune if he did.

"I've noticed. All the messes around the place are all outta my own shit."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

The look on Legato's face is very distinctly love struck, silly little smile and soft eyes and everything. He's so in love there's no possible way anyone could ever miss it.

"He saved me and gave me a life. He's everything I don't deserve but desperately want. There will never be anyone I will follow before Knives." He's smitten, completely devoted. It's almost sickening.

"I'm sure we'll both get some of our abilities back at some point, or bits and pieces of them, however this place deals with that. We'll have to see. I hope he gets his wings back, he deserves to have them again." And maybe he can build up the courage to ask if Knives will take him flying.

Wings-- now that's something. The blades he more or less expected, duh, but wings. That's almost biblical-- no wonder the guy had an ego the size of a planet or two. A little knocked down, pegged as it were, by now. Humbled by whatever happened between then and being in this place.

"No wonder you're crazy about him," he teases gently. "I don't know if we'll get to see uh, well the height, but maybe the wings and shit when people start getting their stuff back, right?"

It'd sure be a sight to see. Wonder what their comfortable hosts will think of it.

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Legato rolls his eyes again, a theme that seems to repeat often when dealing with Badou. He's a ridiculous man, full of nonsensical ideas like tiny instruments one can play between their fingers, and Legato fully believes he deserves the mild derision. He's still too tired to offer his usual amounts of disdain.

"Hmm. True enough. A hundred years is more then a lifetime for humans and he's lived approaching twice that. I don't often think about it that hard; I am rather used to Knives being distinctly different from humans." He shrugs a bit. "You should have seen him at his height, with his wings and his blades. He's magnificent. Well, he always is." Legato smiles and leans on his hand.

If there's any easy way to cheer up Legato, it's usually talking about Knives.

"It kinda is, but if you imagine it-- you'll see what I mean." He just bbbaaaarely has his two fingers hovering together, and spins them as if playing a tiny, tiny little instrument. Legato would not get it, and he's fortunate for it.

"Hmmm, he mentioned...something familiar like that. Sure, alright, it's old to humans. Still....a long time."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Legato raises an eyebrow at the crowing shock and snorts softly. He's long since not been surprised by Knives' age but then he supposes that other humans would be startled. He doesn't exactly look old, except when he's especially tired.

"A tiny violin? Is this another reference I am unaware of?" Likely. He doesn't know a lot of references.

"Knives is hardly old. I admit I am not sure how long a Plant lives naturally, but he is hardly old for his own race. All the other Plants, his sisters, they are from before the Great Fall. How long though, that I don't know."

"DAMN!!!" He hoots in shock at hearing how old Knives is. Then, gathering himself-- "Sorry. Anyway, I think I need a tiny little violin to play when shit doesn't go my way."

It's a pathetic picture, which is precisely why it's perfect. Though, back to the age thing--

"You got yourself a sophisticated old fart," he says playfully.

[bluestringpuppeteer]

"A wind instrument then. Maybe a little flute, to toot out a little tune on." Feed into that oral fixation with a tiny little reed flute, the kind that children carve to play with and annoy adults with.

Besides, Badou with a tiny little flute is a very entertaining thought.

"Yes, over a hundred and fifty years. I am not sure how long exactly, my count may be different then his." Considering they are from different time periods, he's sure that Knives is older then Legato remembers him being when last he was on Noman's Land. "Anyone else I'd be inclined to ask is not here, unfortunately."

Midvalley would know what instruments went best together.

"I may have an oral fixation with the cigs, but c'mon, I ain't musical," he rolls his eye playfully, catching on on the ribbing Legato's sent his way. Good natured and all.

"He's been around a long time, right? He's gotta have some kinda know-how, you're right."

Old people usually do.

[bluestringpuppeteer]

"You are very insistent on the harmonica thing," Legato says, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps you should play one instead. I'm sure you'd be good at it."

Hard to tell if that's mocking or if Legato is actually assuming Badou would be good at playing a harmonica. It could be both or either honestly.

"In any case, piano first. If I find an instrument for myself, it will be after I have gotten the piano for Knives. Besides, he may know better what will match." Hopefully, and that's if Legato manages to ask. He's still working on asking for and chasing after what he wants in regards to Knives.

"Hey!" Again, not too offended, but man he answered fast! He didn't even hesitate! Dang, Legato. C'mon now.

"Like uh-- pop or something? I guess it could be bouncy." This is a man who has no idea about music. Does it sound good? Sure. Does he know theory or anything? Absolutely not, keep it away from him.

"You could duet with a piano and a harmonica..." Almost pouting.

[bluestringpuppeteer]

"Not in the least," Legato replies without hesitation, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It's true, he doesn't think Badou has any dignity, but it's also all in good fun to tease him.

"Somehow I doubt that jazz played on a harmonica and jazz played on a saxophone has the same soul to it. If I was to play a wind instrument, I would play something different." Does he know what? No, not really. His exposure to music is much wider then his exposure to the instruments that play it.

"Whatever I learn has to go with a piano, regardless."

"You think I ain't dignified?" Badou laughs again, mock outrage painting his features-- if not for the grin. "I have great taste! I was just thinking of you, you'd like the challenge."

If anything it'd be funny and also a challenge for Legato. Win/win!

"Jazz can SO be on a harmonica! You gotta feel the soul is all."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

"You're outrageous," he huffs. "You go learn harmonica then, if you think it's such an interesting instrument. I want something more dignified then that." Clearly Badou had no dignity, so he may as well be the one to make a fool of himself.

"Jazz on a harmonica. Midvalley would pass out laughing. You have no taste."

Why did Knives like this man again? This ridiculous creature?

It must be a temptation that's much too hard to ignore, to fight. Because here Badou is-- perfectly present to annoy and mess with.

"Not-- really? Until you get good, yeah, you'll look dumb, but when you get badass?" He laughs-- "No one can say anything! You can do jazz. But...I guess strings are elegant, yeah."

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Legato might end up back to being a dick soon enough, once this is all over. Or then he might not, because he's been getting better about treating the people he realizes he likes well. It probably depends on the day, because Badou is a wet ferret of a man and the idea of fucking with him is very tempting.

At least Knives is likely to be courteous about any music playing at odd hours.

"I would look utterly ridiculous attempting to play a harmonica. At the very least I should find something more elegant then that." He huffs. "Perhaps something with strings. It would suit me more, I think."

Being a dick takes a lot of effort, it's understandable, though it's so easy to be a dick to Badou. Like a natural flow.

The info broker does find himself genuinely hoping that piano plan happens....as long as he isn't awoken at weird hours-- okay, weirder than his own.

He can't help his big mouth-- it stretches into a huge grin.

"A little! But it's not a huge instrument, and you only need to learn the little holes and blow. Could be an alright start?"

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Let it not be said that Legato doesn't have the ability to be softer and more gentle, he does, he's just still working out the kinks in letting people actually see those parts of himself. He's decided that Badou is safe enough and he's too tired to bother being more of a dick.

"I'll let you know," he promises because pianos are big and damned if he wants to move the thing by himself when he manages to get his hands on one. Maybe he can make it a birthday present, if he can save enough by then.

"Harmonica?" Legato furrows his brow and then squints suspiciously. That sounds more like Badou is making fun of him then offering a genuine suggestion. "You're... teasing me." He doesn't sound entirely sure about it but... He thinks so.

Badou's incredibly easy to flatter. Let it be known. And he will get those titles out of Legato one of these days, or at least out of Knives.

It's-- not strange, but-- interesting to see the more softer, gentler expressions on Legato's face. The smile, even the teasing-- so different than when Badou was sure he'd die in his sleep.

The info broker grins back.

"My lips are sealed. Lemme know if you need help moving the piano. But getting a radio'll be super easy." Propping his chin in his hand, he hums--

"Maybe you can try the harmonica." Now that's a funny picture.

[bluestringpuppeteer]

Well apparently it's not too hard to win Badou's approval, simply by admitting he has superior knowledge somewhere. Maybe they can get along together after all.

Badou would not like Noman's Land, if only because he'd be tempted to mock people's names at all times and probably get shot at for it. At least Midvalley would probably be relaxed enough to only be vaguely offended.

At least Legato wasn't giving out their titles. God forbid.

"Oh, a radio! That would be pleasant. I haven't listened to the radio in some time." He tilts his head and smiles more brightly, a little mischievously even. "Don't tell Knives anything about a piano, I want to surprise him. I've been saving up without letting him know. They're awfully expensive."

Especially a full sized, proper piano. A keyboard would be better for their space and his wallet but Legato will buy one of those neat little extension charms for space if he has to and Knives deserves a proper instrument.

"Maybe at some point I can take the time to learn an instrument. It would be nice to join him."

This time Badou preens. "I got a few on my list for you." Smart of Legato to admit Badou knows a couple of things!

Midvalley....he wonders if Knives picked out that name too. Or if the man just drew weirdos. He knows what he'd bet.

Though the most interesting is his comment of being kept 'level'. Hmmm. Music soothes the savage beast-- the info broker keeps that comment to himself as well. It's not necessary right now.

"We'll get you a radio or something, too. And that piano for him."