"Ummm, well, there's the library . . . and the ruins are sort of pretty and there's the Question Bridge that doesn't have questions anymore and -"
As Duck talks, she turns absently down one small street and then another. Quaint, faintly undefined houses loom up to either side, occasionally broken by small storefronts, and once, dramatically, by a large, Gothic stone building which they are currently passing under.
"Hey look!" she says, turning back the way they had come. "You can see my dorm building from here!" Trowa and Duo pause to peer over her shoulder.
Mytho (minus his pants) hits the ground with a THUD.
That's why Fakir has just turned the corner into the courtyard, and why he is storming towards the little group like a particularly irate cumulonimbus cloud. There's Mytho, half-naked, in another boy's arms; there's that obnoxious boy with the braid whom Fakir met at Milliways; and there's that moron Duck.
"Mytho!" he calls. "You're only supposed to snuggle with me.
And then the pale boy in white crashes into Trowa. While on the way down he may have looked like he was floating, a feather on the breeze, he lands like what he is: a boy who's (somehow) fallen from a really high tower.
". . . Ow," says Trowa, from underneath a heap of splatted prince.
"MYTHO!" shrieks Duck, and braces herself for the transformation into Princess Tutu . . . about fifteen seconds too late.
So, uh, no transformation miracle rescue, then.
Duck doesn't waste time looking abashed, however; instead, she flings her arms around Trowa's waist in sheer grateful relief. "Trowa-senpai! I see London, I see France, I see Mytho's underpants --
There's a soft fluttering sound from above which begins just as they pass under the highest tower of the massive building. It could easily be mistaken for the rush of a bird's wings. Though it would have to be a very large bird.
It is not, however, a large bird. Instead it is a pale-haired boy. He is falling, and from the great height of the tower the falling is likely to be followed by a painful landing. He does not seem worried by this fact. Quite the contrary, he seems rather serene.
This time, Duck has dragged Trowa over to look into a nearby shop window. Duo is two steps behind. (He doesn't look up.)
"Are you so eager that you deliberately walk out on your assigned practice? I assure you, I will not tolerate you falling behind just because you want to mmmmmmmarry . . ."
Mr. Cat's eyes fall on Trowa's long, luxurious bangs as they ripple gently in the breeze.
Duo shakes his head and then shades his eyes to look up, trying to spot where Mytho might have come plummeting down from. There's an icon set into the stone of the wall- a noble looking young man turned in profile, holding a sword aloft.
Church of the Unsubtle Plot Point, the script underneath reads.
And then the pale boy in white crashes into Trowa. While on the way down he may have looked like he was floating, a feather on the breeze, he lands like what he is: a boy who's (somehow) fallen from a really high tower.
Some sharp observer may recognize two things about the pale boy. First, he has a sort of haunted beauty about him. The sort that makes all the ladies swoon. Second, and perhaps more worrisome, he is wearing no pants.
Trowa is wearing the particular kind of impassivity that signals a certain degree of what the hell, world; Mytho, in his arms, is limp and serene.
And then, from somewhere offstage, comes an exuberant run of chords, and voices lifted in song:
It's amazing how Trowa can, impassively, convey if you say so without ever shifting a facial muscle.
What he actually says, however, is: "You're welcome to draw conclusions."
Duo proceeds to draw his own conclusions. "Pilgrim, you caused a lot of trouble this morning; might have got somebody killed; and somebody oughta belt you in the mouth. But I won't. I won't. The hell I won't!"
Then he punctuates them by trying to punch Trowa in the face.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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As Duck talks, she turns absently down one small street and then another. Quaint, faintly undefined houses loom up to either side, occasionally broken by small storefronts, and once, dramatically, by a large, Gothic stone building which they are currently passing under.
"Hey look!" she says, turning back the way they had come. "You can see my dorm building from here!" Trowa and Duo pause to peer over her shoulder.
Mytho (minus his pants) hits the ground with a THUD.
"Oops."
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That's why Fakir has just turned the corner into the courtyard, and why he is storming towards the little group like a particularly irate cumulonimbus cloud. There's Mytho, half-naked, in another boy's arms; there's that obnoxious boy with the braid whom Fakir met at Milliways; and there's that moron Duck.
"Mytho!" he calls. "You're only supposed to snuggle with me.
"...Seriously, we've covered that."
Okay, okay, take two!
". . . Ow," says Trowa, from underneath a heap of splatted prince.
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So, uh, no transformation miracle rescue, then.
Duck doesn't waste time looking abashed, however; instead, she flings her arms around Trowa's waist in sheer grateful relief. "Trowa-senpai! I see London, I see France, I see Mytho's underpants --
- well um actually . . ."
Uhhh, take three?
It is not, however, a large bird. Instead it is a pale-haired boy. He is falling, and from the great height of the tower the falling is likely to be followed by a painful landing. He does not seem worried by this fact. Quite the contrary, he seems rather serene.
This time, Duck has dragged Trowa over to look into a nearby shop window. Duo is two steps behind. (He doesn't look up.)
WHAM.
"Medic!"
Take ... four! Four!
"Out of my way!" Fakir shouts. "Get out of my way!"
You'd think people would listen. They don't. Fakir manages to knock Duo, Trowa and Duck over before catching Mytho neatly in his arms.
"See?" he says to Mytho. "I told you I'm good enough to make the basketball team."
Re: TAKE FIVE
"Oh oh oh oh I got this one I got this one!" she shouts, bouncing. "Magic Flower Waltz Powers . . . MAAAAAAAAAKE UP!"
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The newspaper slams shut in a loud rustle.
"Are you so eager that you deliberately walk out on your assigned practice? I assure you, I will not tolerate you falling behind just because you want to mmmmmmmarry . . ."
Mr. Cat's eyes fall on Trowa's long, luxurious bangs as they ripple gently in the breeze.
". . . me . . .
"Why hello."
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Trowa doesn't notice either.
. . . The sudden appearance of a goatee and all-black clothing, though, maybe be more of a tip-off.
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"Hi Pique hi Lilie um -"
What to say what to say what to say - OH!
"These, um, these, these, these - are my SECRET LOVERS!"
:D :D :D?
TAKE TWO
"Hi Pique hi Lilie um -"
What to say what to say what to say - OH!
"These, um, these, these, these - are the blind dates I got for you!"
:D :D :D?
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Church of the Unsubtle Plot Point, the script underneath reads.
"Huh," Duo says absently.
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There's a blond young man behind Duo, with an earnest face (and suspiciously almost-sparkly eyes.)
"Everyone here seems very nice, if you just give them a chance!"
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But he looks a little as if he's considering it.
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dun dun
dun dun
dun dun
FROM BENEATH YOU
TUTU . . .
PULLS YOU INTO A HUG
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(Out of nowhere, music starts to play.)
"He is professional," Duck says, scowling after him. "But I think he's lost control!"
TAKE SIX, and for god's sake REMEMBER THE BLOCKING THIS TIME
Some sharp observer may recognize two things about the pale boy. First, he has a sort of haunted beauty about him. The sort that makes all the ladies swoon. Second, and perhaps more worrisome, he is wearing no pants.
Trowa is wearing the particular kind of impassivity that signals a certain degree of what the hell, world; Mytho, in his arms, is limp and serene.
And then, from somewhere offstage, comes an exuberant run of chords, and voices lifted in song:
"IT'S RAINING MEN! HALLELUJAH! IT'S RAINING MEN!"
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"Let's settle this the old fashioned way: with robots."
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What he actually says, however, is: "You're welcome to draw conclusions."
Duo proceeds to draw his own conclusions. "Pilgrim, you caused a lot of trouble this morning; might have got somebody killed; and somebody oughta belt you in the mouth. But I won't. I won't. The hell I won't!"
Then he punctuates them by trying to punch Trowa in the face.
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ROBOT STOMPLING TIME.
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But I warned you! I told you, there's a monster at the end of this book.
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Oh hey there's the sucker punch.
(If it hit hard enough, Duo might be jolted free of Duck! You're welcome, Duo.)
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Duo serves Trowa his own meal with some FLYING BOK CHOY.
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Trowa ducks! With the requisite comic timing, the bok choy hits Mytho in the face, sending him plummeting off a conveniently appearing cliff.
No rescue this time. Sorry, Mytho! Trowa is busy attempting to tweak Duo's nose.
VICIOUSLY, OKAY.
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As a rejoinder, he hurls the anteater (which seems to be wearing a tutu) at Trowa's knees!
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anime physicsease!(The anteater pirouettes away, oblivious to the entire thing.)
IT'S TIME FOR HAIR-PULLING.
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"I don't understand," says Mytho, no less confused.
Fakir throws up his hands in frustration. "Can't Princess Tutu give you the heartshard of understanding if-then clauses?"