[SE] a bell's not a bell 'til you ring it

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

They've not long arrived in Torchline, and whilst the heat is much more palatable here than in the snowglobe that the Grounds has become, it's still a little chilly for Ancients. Danta has left Asta at Wildering House to either nap or potter around (as is the butcher's right), whilst the Maverick has set off to Haulani's markets in search of whatever counts as a scarf in Torchline.

So far all he's found are silk excuses and wispy shawls intended to protect the shoulders from the sun, and Danta is about to give up for a bit when he's drawn to a strange ringing across the square. Jamming his hands in the pockets of his coat, he meanders towards the sound much like a moth to a flame, finding a quaint little stall selling tiny hand bells.

The ones that had drawn his attention appear to me made of crystal, brilliantly catching the pale sunlight in rainbow hues that remind him of his own horns in a way. With a fanged grin, Danta immediately reaches for one to give it a try.

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

Erebos hadn’t seen much of Torchline, so when the opportunity struck in his father needing to meet with several merchants within the Haulani square, the youth had jumped at the opportunity. Promising to be within eyesight, and given the Sword’s predilection for ensuring that would happen (more than once Erebos had found himself whisked away by the force of Air magic), he settled for wandering the vicinity of stalls and kiosks within Deimos’ orbit.

Some were similar to Halo facets – but the scents and sights had all new meanings. Aromas caught his attention and he side-eyed parcels of savory bread and grilled perfections, before inching around to a delight of toys and décor, and then there were some tinny sounds of bells, calling him over. He rang one pleasantly, laughing at the tune, and then glanced upward to see an Ancient nearby, clearly delighted by the same facets. 

Having no issue with talking to anyone, despite a number of stranger danger lectures, his excited little voice started in. “These are really fun!” and he rang it again, perhaps to invite conversation or just start in with his pleasant, amiable affects. Though his glance went immediately to the crystal forms that had caught the other’s attention, and so he grinned, fascinated and sticking his features close to another one of similar hues; though more effervescent and plastered with cooler colors. “Are you going to get that one?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

Danta rings his bell and is surprised to hear it chime in strange harmony; thinking, at first, that this is some magic at play, it's only when a small voice pipes up that he realises the boy beside him has also taken advantage of the stall's offerings. "Yeah?" he says of it being 'fun', a smile creeping across his face wide enough to show one fang as he, too, lifts the bell to chime it again. "I guess it is. I was wondering what noise it would make if I dropped it."

The confession is an easy one to make, and evidently it doesn't matter if it's a child or a grown adult in his company; Danta's chaos changes for no one. But the kid poses a better idea, the Maverick lifting the crystal bell higher so he can admire the play of light through it. "I might," he admits. "Are you going to get that one?"

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

Erebos was only versed in Ancients like Kiada – though admittedly he’d heard hordes of their names, but wouldn't be capable of pinpointing which herald belonged to who; still, to see the fang appear made him grin, laughing with glee at the obvious show of power and might and then continuing on his own amused trends. “I mean, you could still do that,” he shrugged, granting the permission and penchant for mischief, then discerning the potential side effects, his father’s son through and through. “What will you do if it breaks though?” Perhaps the worst would be having to pay for it, or the destroyed aspects of such a pretty thing.

Regardless, he echoed a few more chimes, inspecting the luminescent ends. He hadn’t expected the question to come back to him, and he speculated, glancing at it from all angles. “I don’t know. My dad can make all kinds,” as in, he probably wouldn’t even need to purchase or barter when the Sword was perfectly capable of handing one over for the mere price of nothing at all. “But it’d be a cool souvenir.” Glancing back up at the Ancient, all horns and daggers, he gave another quick smile, letting the thought roam through his mind and placating with something else entirely. “Are you from here?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"I could," Danta admits, breezy and reasonable in equal measure, though as he turns the crystalline bell in the light again it's clear that it's starting to grow on him in his current shape. But what would he do if it broke? "I'd enjoy the noise it made, see if it looked prettier in pieces, and get on with my day." He shrugs. And pay for it if the mood strikes him or the stall owner looks particularly upset, he supposes, but those repercussions are only recently embedded compared to the thread of chaos that runs through him to the quick.

Perhaps it should be an indication of the youth's father when he says he can make all kinds, but alas, until the Sword is mentioned by name (or spotted, lurking and hulking nearby), Danta will remain oblivious. "It would be," he agrees of the souvenir, and makes the snap judgement in the moment to go ahead and purchase the bell in bell-form, handing it to the nervous looking merchant to wrap and box up. "And your dad couldn't make that exact one, I bet, because it's already in your hand."

Logic, Erebos.

"Nah," he says of being native to Torchline, his tail flicking at his heels as he accepts the box. "I run the Hollowed Grounds, but it's better down here away from all the snow sometimes."

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

Erebos had yet to experience those moments of sentimentality over broken, inanimate objects (perhaps in part because Deimos could repair most), but he blinked, looking at the bell and wondering if he’d be upset if it shattered in his hands, or much like this Ancient, wholly unbothered. Another suggestion of another’s preferences and appeals – where some would leave things broken and demolished, and call it a day, and others would be shattered alongside (though, probably not over a bell).

He finally glanced back at the merchant, looking horrifically unnerved, and gave a bright grin to the worker as well – as if that might alleviate any impending damage. Watching as the product was wrapped and boxed, the youth’s brows furrowed and narrowed at the trail of logic, which wasn’t a common occurrence in his childish mind yet. “Oh, true, I suppose.” His free hand went to the pocket money lying dormant in his clutches, just waiting to be spent. Snagging at the coins, he glanced at them, then back at the bell. “I bet I could still have some leftover for treats.” His eyes trailed back to his father, deep in discussion with another merchant and clearly trying to placate Idalia, whose face had appeared over her carrier and giving significant stink eye, because ordinarily Deimos would be the voice of reason and oh no it wasn’t going to be able to reach him from there.

“I’ll buy this too!” he sprung back towards the owner, and listened while his was also placed carefully, far more than when either Ancient or boy had handled the objects. The dawning of reality struck him with a loud gasp, before he turned back to the much taller individual and glanced upward again, as if understanding had only connected synapses. “OH! You’re Danta! You work with Kiada!”

erebos

and then we dream so much

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"I bet you could," Danta agrees with a fanged grin as he accepts his box with the new bell in it. "Treats aren't expensive in Torchline, in my experience." Then again, that's because the Maverick considers the region's Lucky Rum Fountain a treat and a half, and it costs absolutely nothing at all. Were it not for the way the boy's eyes tracked across the square, then - and to Deimos, of all people - Danta might have even offered to show Erebos what he means in person.

Lucky, perhaps, that he does catch sight of the Sword, and recognition appears to spark in both he and the boy at the same time. "Hey, first of all, Kiada works with me," he says, though really, it absolutely is the other way around, "and second, I didn't know your father was Deimos. That must make you Erebos." Tail flicking animatedly at the spaded tip, Danta offers the Sword in question a lazy salute of greeting before sticking his hand out for Erebos to shake.

"What are you doing so far south?"

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

Wholly unaware of the “treats” he’d be missing, he took the box eagerly, holding it tightly in his grasp while reality struck both of them. Also unbothered by the statement of Kiada working with him, the youth simply glanced up with a bright grin and easygoing smile. “I like your origami! I tried making a frog and bird too, but they didn’t turn out quite right,” as he hadn’t had the patience, nor the wherewithal to be precise in those motions yet.

The notions of connections and heritage made him wrinkle his nose, an uncanny similarity and resemblance to said father. “I am!” and he puffed his little chest out proudly, maneuvering the box enough to free one hand to shake in return, missing the way Deimos had slid his gaze from youth to Maverick, muffling a snort and extending a nod towards Dantalion, before returning to said conversation.

As for why they were here, Erebos could sum it up swiftly. “Dad had to talk to some dude about monsters. Guild stuff. And then I wanted to go,” to see things. “Do you like the Grounds?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"Ah, you do? Very kind of you to say so," Danta says, chest puffing out as well as if he's a youth of Erebos's age rather than an Ancient in both the figurative and literal sense of the word. "It's the paper," he tells him in a hushed voice. "You've got to have special paper and it has to be the right size. I'll send some next time I write a letter to your father." He winks. Because if Danta can find the patience to make origami creations, truly, anyone can do it.

"Monsters?" he repeats with a grin, glancing around the market sceptically as though the creatures in question might be on a rampage whilst people finish their shopping. Apparently not, though, and Danta doesn't try to hide the brief disappointment that comes along with things getting potentially dangerous and interesting. "That makes sense, I guess."

Tucking his bell box under his arm and turning away from the stall (other people have come to look at bells now, which feels absurd and funny to the Maverick), he nods along agreeably with Erebos's question. "When it isn't snowing all the time, it's great. Then again, the bonfire keeps everyone warm anyway. Has your dad taken you?"

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

The secrets of said origami made his eyes widen, as if he’d never considered the issue being the paper itself, rather than the horrendous techniques and lack of forbearance. “Oh, okay!” Taking this as solemn, sage advice, he nodded. “Thank you! I can write you letters too, if you want! I’ve been practicing those!” Unless, of course, like many documents and parchment found going his way, the Maverick might toss the portions aside. “I’m getting pretty good at spelling.”

Monsters seemed to have gained an interest, despite the disappointment that none were raging through the market at this hour. “Yeah. Something about ROUs. I think.” He’d been half-listening, half-eavesdropping until he could burst out and invite himself to Torchline. “It’d be kinda funny to have gigantic rats running through here though.” In the painfully amusing way and probably not the infested disease-ridden way; or just a child’s whims of adventure who’d yet to experience the devastating divisions of Caido.

Moving aside as the Maverick does, Erebos inched a little closer to his father, who seemed to be jotting down a large portion of notes. Distracted immediately by the thought of that overly large bonfire in the Grounds, the excitement flickered over his features once more. “Oh yeah! I’ve seen it!" His arms made a gigantic motion, and sounds unfurled from his mouth like spitting and crackling fire and then echoes of a whoosh, with box in tow, as if to encompass the expanse and reach of said bonfire. "Can you guys really move right through it?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

you're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself

"Oh, sure!" Danta says brightly, because his lack of focus when it comes to reading and answering said letters should never dissuade people from writing him. "Make sure to say that Kiada needs to give it to me on the envelope, just in case," he adds, because who doesn't love an accountable (if not horrendously immature) king? "And you know, I am too!" he declares of his spelling, though Erebos is probably better, truthfully. "G H T words still trip me up a lot though."

ROUS are briefly interesting - though they'd be much more so if they really were rampaging through the marketplace - and Danta wonders how many of the enormous rats frequent Torchline. Maybe more than expected, given how close the docks are.

Anyway.

They orbit Deimos rather than making a beeline for him, which suits the Maverick when it comes to peeking at other stalls, and he's more than a little endeared to learn that the Sword has introduced his son to the glory of the Everlasting Bonfire. "We can," he says proudly, of moving right through it. "It goes right to The Climb, too. If you ever want to become an Ancient, you could do it too. Or if you get good a fire magic, I guess, but that's not as fun."

Dantalion

I'll break it to you easy, this is hell

Nodding swiftly, especially at having found another willing to take and read his letters, he grinned, making the notation in his mind for future Kiada perusal. “I’ll even write NOT FOR KIADA at the top,” even though that might inspire her to snag it and read through even more. The implication of Dantalion having a difficult time spelling was somewhat of a relief – and he sighed in additional brotherhood of dictation woes. “And TION words too! Why do they even make that sound?!”

Still taking small steps towards Deimos and the monster-informant company he was keeping, Erebos also side-eyed particular kiosks, paying close attention to ones that nearly inspired him to race over (especially several with treats so bright and cheerful; never seen in his short life). But the Maverick’s depictions and descriptions were another highlight, swinging his head and gaze right back around, mouth open and gasping at the very cool thought of traversing through fire. “That’s really neat. Can you do that with all fiery places?” presuming each one had a set destination, he supposed – and who was to say someone hadn’t taken the time to do just that?

The thought of becoming an Ancient didn’t occur to him though – not with all the other ambitions he had wound and tightly coiled within. Most of which now were just beating Marcus at things. “I don’t know. I think my magic is pretty fun.  I’ve got water right now! Don’t you have cool magic?”

erebos

and then we dream so much