[SE] mud castles

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

Work has been one of his only comforts the last few weeks, the labor and responsibility something he could focus on, something he could do. Sol tags along to every task around the city, from lost kittens to cleaning up from LongNight; they do what they can for the city, finding a new 'normal' amidst the loss. Not every day is good, but this one is. The Silk Houses is where he grew up, the people familiar to him, reminding him of why he can't sulk or lose focus on what's important right now: Stormbreak and it's people. The kids follow him as he repairs broken doors or helps erect a fallen lamp post. When they're not handing him tools or asking him a million questions, they're pestering Sol to play with them, chasing the golden dragon through the street like they might a stray dog, stubby arms outstretched and giggles echoing through the alleyways when he snaps the offered jerky from their fingertips. 

It's a sound that eases his heart, bringing a soft smile to his lips while he works away at the road. Sol is supposed to be drying up the mud with his fire, but the kids have decided that it's more fun to watch the sticky substance snag at their fingers and toes, tossing it little rocks only to crack up when it throws them back. 

Letting the children have their fun with part of the road, Zavien is knelt off to the side, doing the actual work that had been requested of them. He's set about using his sword to bake the wet mud, enjoying the way it dries and cakes over the cobblestones and ignoring the bits that have managed to jump onto his jeans. He's just chuckling at another bout of squeals when the mud shifts, reaching to snag at someone's boot. 

His hand raises in gentle warning to the person. "Woah. Careful where you step. The mud is acting up this season." Zavien's eyes follow up to the person's face, blinking a few times as recognition settles. "Colt?"

*

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

She looks down at the mud as it scrambles over to her, squishing it under the toe of her boot until it's forced to squelch out around the sides. She taps it a few times, slow to respond to her name, too absorbed in the fun way the mud reforms just to smash apart again and scramble beneath her boot. When her head does lift, it's slow and tilted, her hair shifting in a gold wave over her shoulder. "The mud is gooey," she informs him with a small smile.

Recognition starts to bloom afterwards, too late, but there just the same. She wags out a finger gun at him, her smile growing around her words, features lifting. "Heeeeeey, Zachary!?" She catches herself, her gun pinching at her chin in deep thought. "No, sorry, it's Zassian? Zambor? Z-Zucchini? Ooh, I love some good zucchini." Her mind is swaddled in cotton. It keeps the usual stickers of her thoughts back so they don't snag on her easily, and it makes everything run through the warm and cozy filter first, whether it's coming in or going out. It also means things easily get caught on it, every passing idea snaring on the fabric instead of left to slip away.

"You don't have any on you, do you?"

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

The distracted statement isn't what he expects, glancing down at the mud that playfully tries to tickle her boot, rising and falling in miniature waves that are too thick to be fast. He supposes 'gooey' is a good description, although the reaction still puzzles him when he looks up to see the floating smile she wears. "Uh. Yeah. It is."

It doesn't take more than a second look for him to figure out what's going on; because as much as people might guess he was born and raised a pure-bred Dragoon, Zavien grew up on these streets. He's seen the glassy eyes and the sluggish movements, heard the ramble of unfiltered thoughts hijacked by train robbers on a mission to cloud nine. He's dodged his fair share of discombobulated punches and helped most of them stumble home afterwards, hoping they found what they were looking for in the momentary escape from reality. 

At least Colt doesn't seem to be the kind who hallucinates or thinks they can jump off buildings, but it doesn't change the bit of concern he holds for the rancher who'd seemed so fond of living in the moment: embracing the breeze on horseback, telling campfire stories under the stars, stealing every second of life from two seconds of adrenaline. It doesn't quite match the image of dilated pupils and waving hands that never settle long enough for the present reality to catch them. 

Realizing that she's in no immediate danger, he saves his questions and worries for another time, slipping into the easier reaction of subtle amusement and tactful monitoring. His smile is light and slightly crooked as he chuckles. 'Zambor?' Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "Close enough. Zavien." Not that he thinks the name will stick. As for the 'zucchini' suggestion, he stands, dusting his hands against his jeans. His head shakes with sympathetic disappointment, unable to hide the glint of humor in the green of his eyes. "Sorry, I don't, but I can help you find some. Are you hungry?"

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

"Zaaaavien." The full weight of the recognition sinks in with a soft smile, wide and dreamy on her face, as most things are currently for her. "You fell off a dragon!" she announces proudly, in part because she wrangled up the proper memory, and in part because getting on top of a dragon, for however many seconds, is a feat to be proud of. She reaches out suddenly for his shoulders, grabbing hold like its urgent, grip far tighter than it needs to be, although he is soon supporting more of her weight than she meant. The mud tangling up at her feet is no help in that regard, her squishing of it forgotten around the struggle of his name, so it took hold of her toe entirely and tries to keep that one boot planted firm.

"You gotta get back on again," she insists, features dipping into something gravely serious now even as one hand works to smooth out the clothing she wrinkled by his shoulder, seemingly unfond of the feeling of it bunching around her fingers. "We all fall off," she shrugs. "Happens. But, gotta get back on, cowboy up, otherwise _____?" Her invitation to the rodeo happening again gets a little lost in the messaging of not letting life keep you down, and she'll leave him to fill in the blank as to the terrible outcome of not getting back in the saddle. A though which seems to sober her for a moment as she quiets and stills.

The moment doesn't last long, and instead new concentration wrinkles the corners of her eyes as she considers. "Who's hungry? I'm Colt."

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

The embarrassment of the event has long faded, buried in time and bigger life experiences, but he still grins, a pinkish tinge forming on his ears at the loud and vocal announcement of his public display. "I did." Although he thinks 'thrown' off is the better description of events. Ronin hadn't taken it easy on him, and Zavien would have been upset if he had, but his body hadn't appreciated the efforts. 

Then she's suddenly leaning on him, clutching at his shoulders like it might push the point deeper, and losing her balance in the clinging mud. He reels backwards but holds his ground. Not really sure what to do with his hands, Zavien hesitates before reaching to support her elbows, trying to steady while he takes Colt's advice like one does a toddler's ramblings about why you shouldn't eat dirt. Despite the carefulness of his actions, his eyes are alight with amusement and sincere agreement. Nodding his head, he watches her deflate, the grip loosens, her eyes dim as thoughts crowd the words. Zavien just stands, supporting as he says, "That's right. We all fall sometimes."

He wants to ask what may have led her here, to ask what the shadows were from, to know what fall she'd suffered; but they're practically strangers, and the moment passes faster than a raincloud on the horizon, concentration taking over. 

This time, he doesn't hide the smile, watching the kids zip behind her in a fit of giggles, Sol in the lead. He has a pouch in his jaws, jerky occasionally spilling out to get slurped up by the mud or a squealing child. The situation is too light and chaotic for Zavien to be upset, baffled at how he's found himself babysitting a woman while his dragon entertains the kids. 

Tilting his head to look at her, he doesn't argue or try to shove logic into the conversation, doesn't ask about the momentary darkness, more than happy to go with the flow of the drug-induced comprehension. "Hi Colt. Would you like something to eat? I brought some sandwiches, or there's a shop down the street that has really good ribs." He doesn't know her well, but she seems like a ribs kind of person.

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

She wrestles her toe free with a wet, slick, pop, leaning on Zavien fully before getting her own legs back under her like a fresh filly. ”Whoops!” she declares a bit delayed, tilting a glance under a raised arm back at the offending mud. It slowly crawls back towards them, affixed on their shoes. ”I almost fell,” she reminds him, since the subject remains at hand with his words.

She seems to catch herself again though, thoughts wrinkling, different ones fighting through the mesh around her mind. This seems to have made a very distracting branch of possibilities, because she could thank him for not letting her fall right now, could tell him of all the time she has eaten dirt too…which brings it back to getting food… ”I did…fall.” It’s spoken softer, quieter, with a shaky inhale that pushes everything else back for a moment. She tilts her forehead into a free hand, sighing loudly. ”Gods, I fell so hard Zavnee.” She doesn’t offer much in the way of understanding what she means, but she went down the other route entirely, the one she’s been trying to keep quiet, the one that won’t. She fell, but not in the physical sense, not this time.

The rush of children’s footsteps behind her briefly delay the mud as they send it scattering and force it to regroup. Then, her name, said so simple and crisp has her lifting her head back towards him, the threat of tears dimming as her focus shifts back through the cotton to this new snag. ”Hi,” she whispers, running her fingers through her hair to tuck it behind her ear. She brightens considerably at the mention of ribs, akin to a dog hearing a prime word, and again she fires a hand out towards him, this time thumping his shoulder with a swift smack of approval. ”Ribs!? Why didn’t you say so? I could do with some ribs!”

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

Still gripping her elbows, he waits patiently for Colt to escape the mud, shuffling their steps to the side so that she can avoid further harassment. Even if she does tumble or threaten to fly face first into the dirt again, Zavien does his best to reassure her with a soft smile. "Don't worry. You can lean on me." At least she won't find herself on the ground with him around, although he knows the deeper meaning is there, sees the distress when she straightens and gives a vague clarification that tells him they're not talking about tripping anymore. 

He knows what it's like to fall. His death had left him broken and uncertain. He'd fallen for Lena quickly, then lost her. From love to death to physically losing altitude, Zavien can sympathize with whatever she's going through, and it shows on the pain that peeks through the humor, the sorrow lacing his smile as he repeats her previous words, "It happens." And yet they're both here, both alive and breathing despite whatever tragedies or struggles have befallen them. 

Still, it's hard to see someone suffering, and he wonders how much of this he would be seeing if the drugs weren't running through her system, watches as her emotions play across her features, the confident and boisterous rancher looking vulnerable and almost timid as she tucks her golden hair. 

But that doesn't last long at the mention of ribs, and she hits him about as hard as he would expect from someone who does manual labor all day. It nearly knocks him back and he lets out another low laugh, releasing her arms and stepping just far enough away to lead her but still be within reach if the mud snags her boot again. "Come on then. Joe's got the best. He smokes his ribs for a whole day. They practically fall off the bone." 

Leaving Sol with promises of bringing ribs back for him, Zavien guides Colt towards the end of the street. He keeps them clear of mud or other hazards that might catch on the influenced woman, placating any ramblings with gentle humor and the occasional reminder of food to lead her along the path. 

Once the sounds of children laughing have faded and the end of the Silk Houses comes in view, a small stand becomes apparent. A tattered awning shades a single table laden with spices and marinades, an older gentleman whistling as he whittles away at a piece of wood. His callused hands work the wood like butter, carving it away in soft curls that pile onto the table. When he hears them approach, he raises his head, the dark peppered beard unable to hide the large smile that appears, his brown eyes glinting with recognition. "Zavien!"

Nodding his head, Zavien returns the bright smile, obviously fond of the large man. "Hey Joe. Colt here needs a pick up. I told her you were the man to see." A deep, echoing laugh erupts from Joe, who stands as if someone has called him to battle. "Say no more! I've got just the thing." Winking at Colt, he grabs a pair of tongs and lifts the lid of a black cannister, gray smoke and hickory smells billowing out in a wave of divine glory. Despite his gruff appearance and impressive size, he treats the meat reverently, proudly placing a rack onto a paper plate where the sauce and meat settle comfortably after a day of hard work. 

The tall man grins, showing off a few chipped teeth as he offers forth the plate like it's the solution to all her problems. "Careful, nothing will ever compare afterwards."

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

”Yoooou,” she warns Zavien with a wag of a finger and a dreamy laugh as she tilts upright beside him. ”Better watch what you say mister. I know ribs.” A bold claim to say that in the city of all places the best ribs are to be found. She might just have to be the judge of that, and all the more reason for Zavien to come back to the rodeo if she is, as she suspects she will be, correct that these don’t top the ones in King’s End.

Still, she happily saunters along with him, redirected a time or two when she drifts with the reminder of the impending savory delights and ruthless judgment awaiting. En route though, one of the rings on her fingers slips free. It’d been a newer one, picked up on a whim because it had a pretty light to it, but it never completely fit right. She hears it, and pauses, stepping back and pivoting to look for it, but her boot heel crunches down on it in the same motion. Ground between boot and stone and the swivel of her confusion, the band snaps, and she soon enough forgets about it and continues on with Zavien with a shrug. ”Easy come, easy go,” she murmurs.

Admittedly once they arrive to the rib stand it does seem more authentic than she had been expecting from Stormbreak. Swept up into an easy smile at the happy exchange between the two men, she just grins at them each in turn, apparently already plenty picked up by the energy and long since having forgotten what she’d been stumbling over anyway. Not that she’s about to refuse any ribs though. ”Oh Joe,” she gushes as she sits and watches him scrounge up meat like it’s a holy relic. ”We’re gonna get along just fine,” she titters, lounging over her table with some elbows and a drape of her chin in her hands.

She grabs the plate eagerly from him, but seems to sober up momentarily at his warning. Her gaze has never been entirely clear yet, but it takes on a more distant look still, the plate tilting dangerously as she seems frozen briefly. ”I already have a problem like that,” she murmurs, gaze sliding in jagged arcs towards Joe. ”Don’t give me another.”

The plate settles without any further stress and the smell and the heat of the meat pulls her back to this more current present. She leans in with a fresh smile, diving in with her hands to feast.

---

Colt has destroyed the following

Eclipse Ring | A silver ring marbled through with an eerie light. When worn, any Ascended within 5ft of the wearer will lose their enhanced senses and speed. May be used for a maximum of 3 posts per thread.
Type: Light | Style: Offensive | Level: Basic | Cost: Action

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

He wonders if Colt will be missing the ring when her mind clears, but obviously ribs are on the brain. She's eager and full of playful laughter that lightens the mood just in time for the succulent meat to invite them closer. Zavien watches her perch excitedly at the table, not sure she's noticed it's more of a take-and-go kind of place in her addled state - not that Joe seems to mind. If anything, the man is finding the whole interaction thoroughly amusing, his smile only dimming when she grows somber. Joe's eyes widen a hint, glancing to Zavien for an explanation. Unfortunately for him, all he gets is a shrug of shoulders, the Commander just as baffled about what Colt could be talking about.

Smirking, the man hands over the second plate of ribs and huffs a laugh. "Well little lady, it's a good problem to have. You can spend life looking for something better," pausing, he shoots her another wink, all pride and confidence for his cooking, "or just come pay me another visit."

Zavien takes the plate and props himself against the table, looking between the two of them before offering a smile to the man. "Thanks, Joe." He doesn't know if they words will mean anything to Colt other than an invitation to return, but it's something, and the ribs will probably do more for her than anything else could right now. 

Still, Joe nods his head, seemingly satisfied with the interaction as he steps away to resume whittling and humming something jaunty with a hint of twang to it. Meanwhile, Zavien turns to the rancher, tilting his head as he gauges her reaction to the smoked meat. "Rating on the ribs?"

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

She has not noticed, and she does not care. There was a chair, and she found it like a throne meant precisely for someone to sample these ribs in. There'd absolutely be no way she'd make it out of here holding the rib for another minute anyway, sober or not. Joe must be out of his mind.

Not paying the rest of the man's ramblings much mind as she digs in, you'd think she'd just been served ambrosia. She leans back with a rich groan of approval, shoulders shimmying back and forth in a small dance of delight. The meat is tender and flavorful, and while she'd not claim these to be the best ribs she'd ever had, they are worth their notoriety here. Flipping her hair back over her shoulder with a specific swing of her head, she takes another large bite. Chewing lazily, she swipes at the sauce that's gathered on her mouth with the back of her hand before glancing over at Zavien.

Much better than zucchini, and certainly it hits a spot she didn't know needed it. "The best in town," she mumbles, then offers a lopsided grin. "None for you?" she wonders, pointedly glancing at his empty hands and lifting one of the ribs up for him.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

Colt lapses into silence, indulging in the meat like a woman in need of salvation, the ribs a form of holy relief as they cross her lips. The response doesn't surprise him, although he still shares a knowing smirk with Joe before taking a quiet bite from his own plate, nodding his head at her verdict. "Good to hear," he says around the diminishing mouthful, letting the food do the comforting rather than words. It's not like he'd know what to say anyways. 

Her question elicits a decent amount of confusion, glancing down at his sauce covered fingers and the plate in his hand. Raising an eyebrow, he sees the offered rib and laughs softly at the smear of barbecue across her cheeks. Zavien shows her the plate stacked with a second portion of ribs, tilting it so she can grab them if she wants. "I was planning to eat the rest of these, unless you already need more?"

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

Her 'brows lift like her eyes need the physical motion of something raising to finally alight on the plate he's already got before him. "Oh, you're good," she realizes, quickly raising a saucy hand to shake dismissively towards him. "No no no, I'm plenty full." It'd been the only reason she offered her own ribs after all, which she now releases with a thud back onto the plate, most of it devoured. Leaning up in a slow, languid stretch and a groan, she polishes off a yawn, the drugs in her system working her towards a nap, especially now with ribs in her belly. It had been her plan to stay in her room for this trip, per the doctor's instructions, but it hadn't hit yet when she'd wandered down to the main floor to grab a drink from a shop first. It then hit while she did that, and one distraction led to another, guiding her further from the sanctity of her room where she could blissfully drift into nothing and slumber all alone. Maybe for the best she ran into Zavien though, because the ribs had hit the spot.

She reaches out to grab about thirty napkins, one at a time, and begins to poorly clean her hands. This is enough time now that the original ball of mud has mad it's way back towards them, nothing if not insistent about 'befriending' them (harassment is maybe a better word). "Oh, lookit," she points out with a tilt of her head and an extension of a sauce-smeared finger. "It's back." Only, it's not alone this time. It's collected friends along the way, apparently, because a whole host of wobbling, bouncing, slorping mud rolls into view and starts to climb at the bottoms of everyone's seats and tables and grill bases, threatening to turn the rib joint into a mud wrestling pit instead.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

Smiling quietly at the drug-addled progression of perception and realization, Zavien finishes off another bite of his ribs and sets them aside to grab a pile of napkins. Nonchalantly, wiping the sauce from his fingers, he offers Colt a pleased nod of his head. "Good."

He follows the line of where her dirtied finger points just as he's moving her plate and excess napkins aside. The mud is bouncing and swimming(?) and crawling its way towards them in a liquified motion that would be hard to describe from someone who doesn't have drugs in their system. Sol is close on the blobs' tails, smoke already wisping from his nostrils, gaggle of children in tow. From what he can tall, the memory mud had gotten the jump on its guards, using Zavien and Colt's path to follow them to the rib stall. 

Now, as they slurp and crawl against the legs and bases and boots, there's not much he can do other than help Joe when he uses tongs to drop coals along the base of his smoker. Peeling his boot from the hold of a particularly stubborn glob, Zavien unsheathes his sword to flatten it along the worst parts of the mud, baking it to a dusty crisp that won't upend the precious meat. Sol joins in on the attack, licking flames wherever he spots a muddy monster and inadvertently singing the table legs. 

Only once the miniature battle has mostly resolved does the Dragoon stand again, smiling sheepishly at the chef. "Sorry, Joe. We'll keep working on this." There's the unspoken addition of 'once I help with this situation' when his eyes flit to Colt again, but the large man doesn't need to hear it, huffing an amused grunt as he cleans up the space of caked mud and crumpled napkins. "That's okay. You can't be everywhere all at once - no matter how much you want to be. Don't worry about us. We're pretty resilient." He sends Zavien a wink and shifts away with a bundle of garbage in his hands. 

Guilt pricks at his thoughts for leaving Joe with so much work, but the reassurance is enough to set him moving again, his eyes falling on Colt again. "Do you have a place to stay? Anywhere I can walk you?" Based on the drooping of her eyelids, he'd suspect she's about ready to collapse, and he'd rather not have to deal with the decisions of where to take an unconscious woman.

*

Zavien

It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

Slipping out of her chai like she's become a liquid herself, she almost manages grace until she tries to stand. The mud is slick underfoot and doesn't help, but her ankle also threatens to give out, in part because she set her balance on it weird, but she grips the edge of the table with her arm and manages not to baby-deer fall to the ground. While Zavien and Sol get to work, she's not without her own tactics. Colt stomps against the memory mud as if she could kick the very life out of it, or at least hold it down for Sol to torch or Zavien to brand.

With an exalted cheer and the raise of her hands over her head when they at last conquer this assault, Colt yells out, "we did it!" Zavien and Joe are in conversation though, and soon enough he's trying to find out where she lives. "Wouldn't you like to know," she gasps, lips pressing together as she holds back a faint laugh. Truthfully, she would too, because she's got no fucking clue where they are now, and she's not the best at navigating the twists and turns of a city.

She looks him up and down, and decides then and there that she could sprint faster than him when they get near enough and run in ahead and lock him out, if it came to it. "It has blue, in the name," she informs him, and maybe the color of the sign too, but she mainly remembers the words not the look.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me