Promises and Lies.

[Faith Augustin]

64th Vhalar, 717

It was just beautiful here and Faith knew, as she sat on the rock waiting for Padraig, that it was the right place for them to get married. Holding a parasol behind her to stop the sun, she looked down at the deep purple and red dress she had made for herself. It shimmered in the morning sun and she smiled at PB as he paced back and forth. "You don't need to worry, you know." Faith said to him, her expression earnest. "Just because I'm getting married it doesn't mean that I don't love you." PB was having none of it and he wailed loudly then blew his nose in the handkerchief Tristan had given her when he set her free.

Sometimes, Faith thought, he was the most over dramatic chalk bunny she had ever met.

As Padraig arrived, Faith stood and she watched him as he walked towards her. The thrumming of her heart was loud in her ears and Faith looked at him with delight building in her. "Hello you," she said in a soft voice. "I love you. That's handy, isn't it? We should go and get married, though, they're waiting for us." They were indeed, in the tree temple to Moseke. Faith didn't really consider that it was odd that Moseke's Temple in Desnind was here on Scalvoris, in the place where they had fallen through the ground. It simply was.

"I love these shoes, you know," she looked down and, from beneath the deep red of her skirt poked out a foot. High heeled shoes which were incredibly tight peeped out. "But I'm a little concerned that I am going to have shoe-shaped feet. I thought I might change them for your socks. Remember these?" In her hand were the socks he'd given her on that trial, when she'd sat in his home in Andaris, shivering in cold and shock. Taking his hand for balance, Faith slipped her feet out of the very beautiful high heel shoes and pulled on the socks. She wriggled her toes and grinned. "Much better. PB is sad, he's worried that I won't love him any more."

"It's not that, she jus' don't get it," PB sniffled, blew his nose loudly and looked at Padraig with wide, sad chalk eyes. "I'm her. I've always been her. The part of her wot wants and needs to be free. In lots of ways, you know, it's me you love jus' as much as 'er." PB was rarely serious, but he was right now. Just for a trill, his chalk eyes shone the same shade as Faith's. "I'm the bit of 'er wot never got beaten. They taught 'er to push it down, push it away. She pushed it 'ere, into me. So I'm 'er an' she's me." He looked at Padraig and shook his head. "Wot's the point of bloody talkin' to you? You're about as much use as a biqaj in the desert, you is. None." The chalk bunny looked up at Faith and a sudden grin lifted his chalk features. "Padraig loves me more than he love you, you know," he said and Faith grinned at him. "Nope," she replied, fondly, "I'm afraid to tell you that I have one hundred percent absolute certainty that Padraig loves no one ever in the world as much as he loves me, let alone more. It's not possible." Looking down at her dress, Faith frowned slightly. "Where did I put the baby?" In this dream, her pregnancy wasn't showing at all. It was there and gone from her mind, though, and she turned back to look at the man she had already wed in the waking world.

"Come on then, we're going to be late. I don't like being late it's tardy and rude. The king will be there, he's the one who looks like a slave. Tristan bought us small tools to use, said he made them out of chains." It all made sense to her and Faith took Padraig's arm. "You look very handsome to-trial, you know. I'm going to make promises to you with my words, but really, they're with my heart."

The Temple in front of them was the Temple to Moseke in Desnind, for all that it was in Scalvoris now. Faith stopped outside and looked at it. Breathing in, she felt nerves fluttering in her stomach. "I'm concerned that I'm going to say something foolish. Or trip over my dress, that would be bad. Can you imagine? Oh, look, it's my sister." There, at the door to the Temple was a woman. She looked exactly like Faith except for her eyes, which seemed to have a green tinge to them. Or maybe it was the light.

She was wearing black, the sister. A plain outfit, skirt and blouse. It was old and well worn but it was clean and cared for. She looked at them as they made their way towards the Temple. She did not speak, simply turned and walked in to the Temple without a word, her eyes giving away none of her emotions. "She's a cheery sort. I bet yer parents were glad they kept that one, love." PB said and Faith shot him a warning glance. He was unabashed and unashamed."Yeah, I know. Right. I'm going in. You pair follow in when yer ready, a'right?" He did just that, jumping in and hopping off towards the statue of Moseke which they would get wed next to. That left the two of them outside for a moment and Faith leaned against Padraig, happy to have a moment.

"We should go in," she said, after a moment or two. "Are you ready?"

[Padraig]

Padraig was late arriving. But wasn't that the accepted tradition, for the groom to be late? He had after all gone unshaven, just for her. It all meant, the tardiness at least, that he alone was privy to the most spectacular view on Scalvoris. Faith, seated on a chalk white cliff overlooking the sea, just in front of the temple of Moseke. He'd given a nod to another time honored tradition of impending matrimony, and had arrived with a wide leather belt strapped low across his hip, not equipped with sword or dagger, but a dozen or so small vials filled with mysterious but colorful liquids. Some of them let out tendrils of vapor that trailed in a curlicue pattern behind him.

She loved him? Padraig smiled wide and kissed her. "Better the case than not. That's what they told me." But before they walked into the temple, hand in hand, he raised his free one to show her what he'd brought. "Here, I brought you some sensible shoes. I thought they'd go nicely with your dress." Lace up boots. The kind that soldiers wore. They must have been of a similar mind, him and her. They'd go well with the socks.

"PB, we'll fix you up a room of your own," he told the worried chalk bunny. "We'll by a bed and a wardrobe and curtain them off from the rest of the room." He loved all of them, he told them both. And as for the baby? Grinning, he patted his breast pocket. "Right here, safe and sound." As for Tristan? "He's an asshat," Padraig proclaimed as they headed into the temple. And the other woman. There. Padraig stopped in his tracks, stared at the vision and declared, "Look. There's another you over there." But no, it was the one who'd once been on the right, she told him. "They kept the ugly one. I got the prize," he said, and yes indeed, he was ready to go in.

[Gangui]

Where am I? He was surrounded by the statues of Immortals, in the temple. His whole body seemed to grimace. Have I been cursed? This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to be among immortals, not even their statues.

He knew what to do.

Digging his fingers into the carved stone letters of the Immortal's name, he peeled it off like butter. Shaking the soft clay from his hands, he did the same to all of them until they were all erased. Gathering all the clay, he made a ball, then he shaped the clay into the form of a faceless man. Yes. Placing the small statue of the human in the middle of the room made good sense to him. Much better.

He wiped his fingers off on his chest, noticing he was wearing an exquisite coat, the type of coat that was too tight and full of those intricate designs cultured men preferred to wear. He had fancy shoes on too. Something important I hope. He never took his armor off. It was strange being exposed.

At least he still had his sword.

The next chamber in the temple was particularly empty, except for Moseke's banner. This doesn't make any sense! Rubbing his forearm on the Immortals emblem didn't help, perhaps if he shook the thing. Go away... Ah yes! That did the trick. Like sand in a sieve, Moseke was gone now. Rushing back into the other room, he scooped a ball of clay from the Immortal statue. Doodling with his fingers, he was soon able to get an exact replica of the Etzos national banner on it. Much better.

He put his hands in his pockets, he noticed a few pieces scraps of paper inside of them. Ith'ession. He could barely read it: Faith... Padriag... Wedding... ceremony. Ah, a wedding! Of course! Being the natural leader he was, the man realized that they had requested him to officiate as the preacher. He had good logic and it all made sense now. Except for the temple location. I should have planned this...

Good thing he had learned his Etzori history.

The next room was empty too, but it was THE room. I must be early. It was full of old trees and vines, smelling like a proper salad, and yet another statue to Moseke. He shook his head with a smile. There is always work to be done, never a moments rest! Getting married in front of an Immortal's statue was sure to ruin any wedding. Pulling the statue was sweaty work, the buttery clay not wanting to be moved as one lump. He stacked it into a pile. Swiftly, he formed the sparsely detailed statue of a triumphant couple holding hands and kissing over the bloody corpse of Faldrun. The fiery god was always to blame for things like this this temple. Much better.

Someone else entered the room. A wedding helper from the temple. Gangui greeted her with a beaming face, happy at all the improvements he was making to the location. Showing her scraps of paper as evidence made her shrug, but she offered help anyways. Hmm... We need stain glass windows, something made by a man, these tree will never do.

With certainty he drew his blade.

The hacking and slashing was glorious work indeed. Leaves and twigs and barks splashed about like the wake of a fast boat. The helper gathered everything up, running around like mad to tidy up the place. The wedding is going to begin soon and the guests are arriving? Piercing the tip of his blade into the stone, he drew big squares with depictions of Immortals being slain by humans. Scratching his eyeball, he wandered how to make then colorful. The hilt of my magical sword, of course! HA! Concentrating, the images soon turned into colorful pieces all around them, albeit gruesome in nature. Much better.

The helper reminded him gently, "Mister preacher man, the guests will enter now followed by the bride and groom,"

"Great!" The mustachio barked with a peaceful smile and glimmering eyes, "Bring them in! We are ready! Their vows will be glorious indeed!"

The helper turned back around from the door for one final word from the smiling man, "OH! By the way, please call me Preacher Gangui!"

[Noth]

The noise was grating, both in a literal and emotional sense. In reality, it was a legitimately grating noise, because it was the sound of the small boat scraping against the rocks of the shore, but it was also grating in that it was a particularly annoying noise. It came to a halt with a loud thud as the boat planted itself upon the shore, coming to a rough stop, and embedding itself into the shore. It would remain there permanently until someone came along to send it back out to sea, or until the sea itself decided to withdraw it from its earthy shelter and back into the tumultuous waters.

Armor clinked gently together as the squadron of soldiers dismounted from the boat, the quiet squelch of wet sand being pressured by two dozen boots, and a single pair of talons which sliced directly through the moist material. The entire group were remarkably quiet as they dismounted, the only sounds erupting from them the quiet grunts which naturally occurred when they hoisted themselves from their vehicle, and even then, only about half of those gathered even made that natural noise. Admittedly, the others were unlikely to need to make any noise whatsoever, but they were of an unnatural construction.

The darkly colored armor he wore was reflected in each of the gathered soldiers, their own decorated in a similar manner, each one held the bloody handed mark of Al’Angyryl upon their chests, engraved into the metal with a material known as Blood Dust so as to give it the proper crimson appearance. Not a one of them allowed any of their flesh to be shown, covering it over with wrappings of metal and cloth, ensuring that they appeared as nothing more than moving bodies of armor when gazed upon. Removing that slight semblance of a human element from their appearance made them seem more uncanny and peculiar.

Stone stood before them, rising upwards into a cliff, a simple obstacle to those gathered who quickly set about climbing up the supposedly insurmountable barrier. The Temple of Moseke presented itself to their view before they had even managed to reach the top, and the hybrid found himself gazing with disgust upon it. Architecturally it was a wonderful structure, and it had likely taken many arcs to construct in its entirety, but it stood for something detestable to him; the worship of the godlings who ruled the world, and that was enough to turn any aesthetic beauty into something disgusting and grotesque.

There were voices at the top of the cliff, familiar ones that took little time for the monstrous Avriel to recognize. In a way, they were partially the reason that he had chosen to arrive, but they were not the entire reason, were they? What had the goal of this particular mission been? He flickered through memory, coming to a grand conclusion in no more than five trills, and promptly continued his climb, motioning to his soldiers to remain quiet as they crept up the side of the rocky mass. The two lovers spoke of many things, of their nervousness, and of what they were wearing, and of questions about where their baby had run along to… curious. He had only a vague idea that the slave had been pregnant, a small instance of time that had been granted to him during their previous meeting that had made him aware, but it seemed now as though it had already been born. That meant that it was a liability, and were he a more vindictive or malevolent sort, he would have immediately gone searching for the child so that he might use it as a hostage. Wicked though he was, however, he was unwilling to involve children into any of his schemes and conflicts, because he recognized that it would tar their innocence forever, and in his own way, he found that just as detestable as the temple that he now gazed upon.

The bride and groom departed from their conversation, summoned inside for the event to begin. The hybrid finished his climb, arising atop the cliff and reaching downwards to assist a few of his allies in their own summits. Soon, the entire squad of thirteen had managed to arrive at the top, the dozen soldiers looking towards their leader for the next portion of their mission. The idea occurred to the twilight hybrid to simply burn the temple to the ground, to bar the doors and to allow the flames to cleanse the place of its divine infestation, but that would also mean the extermination of all those inside, and as reasonable as it was to annihilate the temple itself, he was at least somewhat more unwilling to completely destroy those within without better cause. Even the cruelest of monsters did have standards, after all.

With a sigh, the twilight hybrid began to approach the temple, taking note of the lack of protection at the front; clearly it was a fairly open event even if it was rather secluded, because otherwise they would have assigned at least some semblance of security to guard the procession. Then again, how many weddings had genuinely been assailed in recent arcs? He pressed a metal hand against the door, shoving it open with ease and promptly slipped into the structure, taking note of the way that the sunlight died, only to be replaced with the lights of the interior, burning candles and lanterns keeping the otherwise dim structure fairly bright.

They entered quietly, all of them filing into the room and taking seats near the back-most rows of seats so that they could observe the procession, not one speaking a word, half of them not even breathing; such obedience was hard to come by, but it was valued. They stuck out sorely, but it seemed unlikely that many of the guests even noticed their entry, their eyes far more focused upon the proceeding about to begin.

Crimson eyes gazed across the room, burning into the designated conductor.

[Faith Augustin]

The shoes he'd brought for her were just perfect. Lace up boots, warm and comfortable with daisies on them. Faith beamed at him and took them. "Thank you, love. You've always cared so much about my feet." It was true, she knew, he had. Kneeling briefly down, soon she had on her bright red lace-up boots with daisies on them, worn over his thick, warm socks. "They're magic boots, you know. They'll keep us together, hold us safe." She grinned at him, knowing that it was true even if she didn't know how.

At Padraig's reassurance, though, that he had a place with them, PB flung himself, sobbing, into the scholar's arms. Faith watched with an amused expression on her face. He was so much more sensitive than he seemed to be, her chalk bunny friend. He clung to Padraig and wailed, causing a grin to appear on Faith's face as small teardrops of chalk fell to the floor. "He's very emotional, you know," she said and she looked at him with a knowing expression on her face. PB was her, they both knew it. "He just doesn't show anyone usually. He must be very fond of you."

And then some.

Still, they walked into the temple and there was a sight. Not the usual sight and Faith faltered in her steps with him. The statues were gone and Faith's face lowered into a frown. There was a new statue, two people kissing over what seemed to be a corpse. Faith looked around at the windows which weren't supposed to be there and they reminded her of the Glass Temple in Scalvoris. Until she looked at them.

Murder.

They were scenes of murder. Her feet no longer faltered, Faith just stopped moving. "Padraig. Look." She didn't need to say that, she knew, she could feel his muscles tensing next to her. She turned then, to the preacher who was standing there and Faith looked at him with a deep frown. "What is this?" Faith asked. "We don't know you. How can you stand here amidst scenes of murder? We're already married, stuff this." It was strange. PB was nowhere to be seen, but in those last two words, she sounded like him.

"I'm not staying here. Look at this. I'm not being married somewhere that is a temple to violence and murder and dictatorship. I don't care what you say!" Faith, who normally wouldn't be so forceful, stamped her boot-clad foot and looked at Padraig with a very determined set to her jaw. "I suggest we go and find the pirates and get married by them because look at this lot!" Turning to walk out she couldn't help but see the group of dark and mysterious and evil looking people. "Evil begets evil. I will be no part of this." Nope. Not a happy bunny.

Speaking of which, a small chalk bunny tugged at Gangui's sleeve. "Here, sunshine. D'ya reckon those are mortals kilin' Immortals?" He seemed vaguely horrified and a little bit intrigued.Faith, meanwhile, was clear. "This doesn't matter to me. You do. This place isn't right and I want to leave, Padraig. He," she motioned to Gangui, "is quite obviously two cards short of a full deck this lot," she gestured to the people in the back, not having caught sight of the midnight hybrid. "I reckon they're all members of the 'seriously scary club', so lets just get out of here and not be here?"

Either that, of course, or they could stand here and kick some serious bad guys in the behind. Faith frowned, though, and glanced at him. "We need to remember, you've got the baby" she whispered, motioning with her eyes to his breast pocket. So, fight or shout or make a fuss or just leave - that was up to him.

[Padraig]

"Are they magnetic?" Padraig, always the physicist awake or asleep, asked when Faith claimed that the boots would keep them together. Well of course they were! He'd designed them himself after all. Magnetized to such an extent that they'd allow her to walk up walls or hang from the ceiling, so long as those things were made of conductive stuff. He wasn't exactly prepared for PB's embrace. Padraig typically, in general, wasn't much of a hugger. He endured however, and soon enough, he and Faith were arm in arm, headed into Moseke's temple in order to marry and repeat their vows, one to the other.

He'd expected to recognize the temple, there on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Instead it was anything but that familiar place. "This is worrisome," he muttered with a frown, and scanned their surroundings. The stained glass was a nice touch he'd admit, if not a little morbid and grim. Like all the rest, come to think of it. Noticing the figure standing near the front, Padraig frowned. "Do I know you?" he said to preacher Gangui. Looking back to Faith, where she'd stopped in her tracks, he said, "I don't think we're in Desnind anymore."

She insisted they leave, stamped her foot, and at once, Padraig admired his beloved's scrap, and realized he hadn't considered the floors when he'd created her magnetic boots. Not very scientific of him, he hoped they weren't crafted from metal. He hadn't yet noticed any other figures in the room, so fixated was he on the strangeness of it all, and admiring Faith's spirit in spite of it all.

"We can go if you like," he said and offered his arm again, if she wanted to leave. Although he thought it was only fair he should warn her. "We could find the pirates again to marry us. But remember, don't count on me being able to row us there in a straight line." The baby in either case would be safe enough. He'd equipped the little mite with a pair of tiny portal booties and could send him/her/them, home in a flash if need be.

[Gangui]

Murder? Seriously?

"These are exquisite pieces of art depicting the deaths of the Immortals," Gangui said with open arms towards Faith as he slowly approached the couple, "How could you murder an Immortal? Seems like an obvious answer, but the meaning of the word Immortal is literally not able to die, so its really a deeper question that we can all discuss after the service!" A smile beamed on his face, "And sure, you are surrounded by dictators, but they are losing," The look on his face was puzzling to say the least. He could not understand even in the slightest how her ignorance to the Etzori logic was even possible.

No matter. He would convince her. He tried uttering the usual lines about Foster's harbor being a architectural wonder, the history of human slavery, the philosophical duality of Immortal ran states. All of them, it didn't work.

Problem was; the stubborn woman was having none of it. Wasn't her name Faith? Why didn't she have faith in Gangui?

"Pirates!? Scallywags that steal and kill and rob from innocent people? I have never done that!" This was in fact the truth. Gangui was a brutal vigilante, but a code of honor he had and bound to it he was. Some people call it living life on hard-mode. Others: stupidity that would get you killed in a sword fight. Gangui did it, for many reasons, one of those being that it was the only effective way he would be able to convince people from other cultures that the Etzori Cause is real and the Immortal's fake.

What kind of two timing people are these newly weds? Faith and Padriag? HA! More like Zana and Theo. They'd take unlawful pirates over me simply because the lawful depictions of the yoke of tyranny being lifting from the tormented souls of people with no choice, but to sacrifice their lives in servitude?

For some reason there was a small chalk bunny in his hand now and he rubbed it gently like those miniature dogs one could see at circuses, "Bunny, these picture depict the heroic scenes of man defeating the Immortals. It's important you don't think of it as murder. That's for the strong men to take care of. They were built by their upbringings to fight on your behalf. In our community, everyone has a part. All you gotta remember is that the Immortals make life terrible. It really takes a team effort!"

Gangui continued his tirade in front of everyone now. Stepping into the middle of the bickering couple (he barely paid attention to their discussion anyhow) and the black-armor thug, Noth. He waited for them to look at him then, raised the chalk bunny in the air, trying to bring everyone's focus onto that.

"This Good Bunny understands the true meaning of freedom from the slavery of Immortals," He didn't even check if PB had understood what he had explained not a Bit earlier.

"The biggest enemy to the Etzorsi free market, Noth," He pointed at the murderous bird-man, spotting his notorious armor from a mile away. In normal circumstances, his presence would have caused a riot, but in Emea anything could happen, right? "Understands the true meaning of freedom from the slavery of Immortals,"

"But you TWO," Pointing at Padriag more than Faith with a grubby finger of judgement, "Don't understand at all and choose to elope with CRIMINALS!? You two arn't good! YOU TWO ARE EVIL!"

[Noth]

It came as little shock that the bride and groom found the scenery surrounding the temple to be somewhat distasteful. Noth had admittedly seen and displayed far more gruesome imagery around his own home than could be found within the sacrilegious structure, but he understood that most people found such gruesome displays to be unnerving and disturbing to gaze upon. It was especially out of place given the nature of the ceremony, and whilst the twilight hybrid himself was approving of the general message of the statues, even he found them to be unnecessary and somewhat disruptive.

Admittedly, he was here to disrupt things in his own way, and so that thought did not dwell too long with him. Yet, it was not the time to take action, and so he continued observing from near the back of the building, sitting amidst the assorted pews with his soldiers, their usually clinking armor silenced by a lack of movement. The slave who would not serve spoke of her denial of the surroundings, of how she refused to be married in a place that played host to such displays of murder and dictatorship. Curious that she had chosen the word dictatorship, because it was an entirely incorrect statement unless one was referring to the Immortals themselves, but if that was her intention, it would beg the question of why they had chosen to appear at the Temple to Moseke in the first place.

No, mortal men toppling the terrible tyrants within the temple did not attest to the idea of dictatorship. In fact, it was quite the opposite, because where the Immortals had made themselves leaders among the mortal races, and where they decided who lived and who perished, and where they created all the laws, and all the rules, and all the decisions, mortal men had done nothing more than serve, and yet, in these images, they had finally arisen in righteous rebellion against their overlords.

Noth had not expected to see the chalk bunny again, but crimson eyes now settled upon it as it ran up towards the preacher, beginning to converse with him over the nature of the images surrounding them. There was a brief discussion over whether or not the bride and groom should simply depart the melancholic and violent setting, and set sail towards a band of pirates who had made their acquaintance so that they might be married thither. It seemed remarkably contradictory to Noth for the pair to despise being united matrimonially within a grand structure due to its violent images, and then to choose to travel to a group of pirates; murderers, thieves, and general scum. The only pirates Noth had ever made the acquaintance of were dead, and for good reason, because they had been hideous people, and had deserved the punishment which settled upon them.

The preacher was frustrated by the conversation, and he removed himself from his pulpit, launching into a tirade over the nature of the Immortals, and Noth found himself agreeing with almost everything that had been spoken. It was true that they envisioned similar fates for the Immortals, and that they agreed that the godlings would inevitably need to perish if mortal kind were ever going to have a chance at genuine freedom, but the darkly-feathered hybrid could not fathom to side with such a zealot. He considered himself a reasonable person, and a logical one who acted upon what was best at all times, and whilst they shared an ideology, Noth thought that the devotion that Gangui put into that philosophy was something undesirable, and far too constraining for a person to continue operating reasonably. If every thought was based upon such fervent disgust and hatred, then how could someone ever hope to function when faced with those who disagreed with them, even if only mildly?

He heard his name, and the sentence which had summoned him echoed in his mind for a trill as he arose from the pew, the soldiers underneath his command joining him as he stood. A pair of those nearest the exit of the establishment stepped over towards it, moving with clockwork efficiency as they spun upon their heels, planting a pair of spear butts into the ground as they stood guard. There was an unnatural stillness to them broken only by an occasional irrational and spastic twitch of their heads, as though they were snapping readily from one target to another, and, in a way they were. They had been changed by the necromantic procedure, and it had taken away some semblance of their humanity, but it had made them substantially stronger in the process. Whilst a portion of their dead will still belonged to themselves, a portion now also belonged to their master, and their hungering tongues lapped away at their chops within their helmets, awaiting the command that would set them free to ravage.

“The biggest enemy? I feel as though you discount the forces of Rhakros and Sirothelle prowling at the gates, Gangui.” He called as he stepped free from the pews, approaching the group, crimson eyes burrowing into each of them individually as he neared.

“Curator. Bride.” He nodded towards each, his words punctuating the non-verbal gesture. “I apologize for my late arrival. I’m afraid that my invitation must have been lost. Nevertheless, here I am, and I have brought some of my finest with me as well.” He cast a gauntleted hand back towards the soldiers, who simply gazed onwards, nearly half of them still refusing to even breathe.

He chuckled mirthlessly underneath his armet. “I was considering helping you by removing the good preacher from your presence, and allowing you to carry on with things, but I do so desperately want to know what your answer is to his challenge. Would you honestly go off to be married by criminals robbing others with frivolous satisfaction? For shame. I was under the impression that you were meant to be… better than that.”

[Faith Augustin]

"No, love, not magnetic, magic. No net needed." Faith was quite delighted at the quip she'd made and she shot a grin at him. "I made a joke. Do you get it? M-a-g-i-c is magic. If you put the letters n-e-t in there, after the g, then it becomes m-a-g-n-e-t-i-c. Isn't that clever?" She frowned suddenly as she thought of something and asked, quite seriously. "Did you have to spell things in school? I used to imagine what school was like and I thought it had lots of spelling." Faith nodded, thoughtfully.

But then, there was this place, and those windows and that strange, strange man. "No, I don't think we are, darling." In the waking world Faith had not ever called Padraig 'darling', but at the moment it seemed like quite a normal thing to do. When he spoke about finding the pirates again to marry them, Faith chuckled and shook her head. "Round and round in circles, like a physicist in a boat? That would be nice. We already are married, Padraig, I don't know why we're worrying. Let's go and put the baby back in the oven." She breathed in and considered that warm and dark and safe was where the baby should be and her silver eyes were twinkling with amusement when she looked at him. "Our little bun. We don't need this. Come on."

Then, though, the strange priest started flapping his arms about and talking about pirates. Faith looked at him and a frown creased her brow, then deepened. Then, he lifted PB and the bunny started screeching. "Aeeeiieeeiieiiiieeee!! 'ELP ME MOMMA! I'LL BE A GOOD BUNNY, OH NO!!" at the "oh no", small bunny-poo pieces of chalk started falling out of the bunny. "He's always had a nervous tummy," Faith said, earnestly. Then, however, she looked at PB and raised an eyebrow. "And you, stop showing off." PB disappeared out Gangui's hands and reappeared on Padraig's head. From which vantage point he proceeded to blow raspberries and stick out his tongue at Gangui.

When Gangui pointed at Padraig, though, that was Just Too Much for Faith and she walked forward, oh so calmly and she put herself between Padraig and Gangui. "Don't you ever threaten him, or me. Ever. You are a lunatic and an ass and we are leaving." But then, the Prince of Eternal Mercies stepped in and Faith looked at him and sighed, shaking her head slightly. "You, again? Are you so needy that you have to follow us around? Really?" She shook her head. As for his question about the pirates, Faith rolled her eyes.

"We rowed to a pirate ship and stopped them attacking our home. With steel and brains. We were on, at the time, a rather romantic boat journey and it would be nice to be married at sea under the stars. That's the trouble with you lot," Faith said motioning to Gangui and Noth both. "You're so busy being pompus pimples that you forget to have a sense of humour or irony. My husband and I don't need to persuade you to our actions. We aren't the ones gatecrashing a wedding uninvited." Looking at Padraig, she sighed slightly. "A madman and a stalker? Lets not and not even say we did?"

Off Topic

Sincere apologies for the delays

[Padraig]

Objects of art that depicted the death of the Immortals? Sure, taste was subjective and Padraig even in this dream state was a scientist and not an art connoisseur. In fact, forced into a tour of most any gallery full of paintings and sculptures, unless they were those depicting the universe, and so on, he'd be bored to tears in under five bits. Still, he could think of many things more inspiring and in turn less morbid than what they saw here. Perfectly, beautifully macabre.

"That's philosophy," he muttered when the talk turned to just how one might kill an immortal. Then grinning slightly Faith's way, Padraig added, "Everyone knows that philosophy is not science. And it's boring too." A gesture to Faith then, referring to the tirade the fellow was throwing, a loop the loop gesture of his forefinger around his temple and a knowing lift of the brow. The problem with madmen is that they usually didn't know it, and thought that it was everyone else that was mad. Somebody needed to tell them. "You're nuts," he quipped when he and Faith were accuse of being evil.

Noth wasn't late though, Padraig resolved. He hadn't been invited, was all, and neither had his minions. Had he? Had the rabbit sent out a last minute invite? He snorted though, grinning at Faith's joke and resisted the urge to explain that maybe explaining a joke was, well, he grinned again. "Very clever. And no, spelling was intuitive," he explained. Was that right? He was sure it was. Emea was a strange place after all where reality and whim coexisted more often than not.

She wanted to go however and Padraig was all for that. Just like a physicist in a rowboat. And PB had it right after all, though the scholar was above blowing raspberries except when it came to entertaining very small children. Pompous pimples? His beloved did have a way with words. "And boring too," he said and concurred. "No imagination." But it was in fact time to go, and leave these other two to engage and agree, or disagree whatever their pleasure. "We've got buns to bake," he said and with a smile offered Faith his arm.