[SE] mud castles

You will never do anything in this world without courage.

Children being the ever-impressionable beings that they are, take Colt's display of violence and boot-stomping as an invitation to join in the fight. Tiny grunts of effort fill the space as they pounce on the blobs of mud, using sticks, fists, and tiny feet to put the memory mud in its place. It doesn't work very well, but once the table proves to hold, Sol shifts his focus to his mini army, darting between stubby legs and grabby hands to sear away any retaliation. 

Zavien crouches to dry another patch of damp earth that threatens to rise just as Colt's giving her shout of victory. He's not sure it's 'over,' but at least the mud seems to back off for the moment, in time for Joe to step away and his ward to make him sound a little like a creep. His instinct is to argue, except that he really would like to know where she's staying so he can help her get back. But he isn't going to say that when her thoughts are impaired, unwilling to press when she clearly doesn't want to share. 

Until she's changing her mind, offering the information in a very unreliable manner that he might have questioned if a place wasn't already coming to mind. He rubs at the stubble on his face, inadvertently spreading mud through the strands as he moves away from the stall. "Mm. It's probably the Blue Hole then. That's not too far from here." Keeping his sword at the ready, Zavien gestures for her to follow. "Come on. I'll keep the mud in check while we walk." As if to emphasize the threat, a dripping mudball flies through the air, aiming straight for the blonde. 

His reflexes react before he even thinks of it, sword flicking out to block the attack and send mud splattering through the air. But he doesn't have time to apologize for any bits that may have rained on Colt's head, both he and Sol rushing forward to pummel the straggling mud soldier. Sol looks a lot more excited about it, bounding like a ferret, membranous gold wings fluttering behind him, tongue dangling from his mouth. Unfortunately for him, Zavien is closer, his sword sinking into wet earth in an echoing sizzle that smells of burn soil. It stops moving, ripples fading and cracking into dried dust. Not that Sol cares.

The little dragon finally pounces, directing his fire straight into the ground while he spins in bounces in a taunting circle that has Zavien laughing. "I think you got it bud." 

*

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

In her experience, nothing with mud this season is ever truly over, but in her current state she’s also already thinking about things, like whether or not she could curl up on the ground right now, or if she could arrange their chairs for a better bed. She doesn’t quite slump into either option though, not with the peppering of conversation and the occasional stomp she delivers to a patch of mud that threatens to squirm still (imagined or otherwise).

”No,” she insists with a suddenly grave shake of her head, gaze pitching to him with mild concern. ”They do not not have blowholes. It’s a hotel for people, not whales.” Whether he’s landed on the correct name or not is hard to say, but she does heed his motion to follow. That’s mainly because she’s suddenly ducking from a kamikaze mud assault that has her hurrying after him with a yell. Good thing she’s already mid-duck too, because his sword swings out like the perfect mud fly-swatter. Far too bird-like for her tastes, she staggers away from the further risk, leaving its decimation to the man and dragon.

She keeps walking the way Zavien had started, knowing he’d catch up. It’s not a quick stroll back to her hotel, not with repeated mud monsters making an appearance in varying sizes and ominous wriggles. Some seem like they mean to blend into the alleys, as shady as anything else in the Silk Houses, but Sol seems particularly keen on flushing those ones out and torching them. The more obvious ones that lurch towards them, Zavien fends off in grand, sweeping displays of swordplay and starlit heat, beating the semi-conscious blobs back into an inert state of dirt that’ll still require cleaning efforts later. A body disposal team of brooms and hoses, most likely.

A few times Colt fights back against the sieges with the only things she has on her, and the wherewithal to use them, which is her feet and fists. It’s a sorry attempt to squish and brawl with mud, but it’s a start until Sol or Zavien come in with better equipment and coordination. ”Thanks,” she murmurs after punting a little mud-gremlin right into Zavien’s blade. All in all, she arrives to her hotel filthy and thoroughly ready for that nap. The comfort of the ribs he offered and the protective escort enough to ensure her sleep into nothing will be a fitless one indeed. Might even avoid thinking about the stars for a change. She doesn’t have the energy to shower first, but good thing it’s a hotel bed she crawls into.

[FIN]

Colt

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