[SE] it ain't hard

are you telling this story or am I?

"Thanks for doin' this." Quite how Fiadh manages to make even the most simple of sentences sound unintelligible is almost a feat of its own. Maybe it's the peppermint bark she's chewing on, or maybe it's because she has Ianto's accent but worse; either way, Remi will likely have to listen close to understand what she's saying.

To say that she's wearing very little is an understatement, but in Longheat in the fucking desert, it's a deathwish to be wearing anything at all in her opinion. Her wild red hair has been swiped up into a messy tail, and the freckles on her shoulders will have darkened to a tan before the day is through.

"Da says there should be some supplies waitin' for us on the second carvan in on the left."

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

Musical though they both sound, it isn't even in the same genre or key or instrument. "Mmmm." Remi says agreeably enough (that was usually a safe bet, though in the past it had bitten him in the ass a few times when he'd inadvertently promised to do things for/with Fiadh without realizing it).

"The what?" Remi wonders with a frown. For his part, he's long since shed his shirt, opting to tuck it into the back of his shorts where sweat has trickled down all the way from the base of his neck. It's with a parental sort of disapproval that Remi regards Fiadh's choice of clothing; he isn't so much worried about how much of her there is for others to drink in, as he's worried about bringing her back to the Greatwood the same colour as a lobster. 'Oh, caravan.' He realizes a moment later, rolling his eyes affectionately at the self-named Tugboat queen.

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

"S'what I said Remi. Caravan. Unplug your ears," Fiadh complains with a gentle punch against the pure steel of the Lullaby's bicep, and she flashes a smile up at him even though her fingers are numb. "I dunno what he's even got comin' for us. I always figured he made bargains with th'Fae an' just... filled his wagon with magic, y'know?" In the distance the lopsided shapes of the Caravanserai become clearer, rippling with the heat though they are no mirage.

"Maybe it'll be a gift," she suggests, kicking about some sand along the scrub and wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Or it'll be one of his debtors, an' I'll be the sacrifice. I'd not blame him - I did it to him last month." She shrugs. "What'd you think it'll be?"

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

Crinkling his nose so much that even his eyes began to narrow, Remi offered the redhead a how sure are you, stare before shrugging. Long ago he'd learned there was no use arguing with Fiadh. "My mistake." He chuckles, rubbing at his arm. "If you don't know what we're picking up...how will you know you aren't being swindled?"

Ahh, father and daughter, daughter and father. Sending each other as sacrificial lambs and still expecting one another home by dinner. A classic heartwarming tale. "Is that why I'm here then? The sacrifices sacrifice?" Remi asks with a crooked smile while trying to ignore the sweat uncomfortably beading down his back.

"I think it will be...a flask of water, that can be poured out to make a pool, even in the desert." Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but gods that would be ideal just now.

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

"I don't get swindled," Fiadh tells Remi with the confidence of every teenager that has ever graced the world with their footsteps. Fiadh is untouchable - by the world, by the war, and especially by other con artists. As for why he's here? She hops over a few dead plants that look as though they've been trying to sprout in vain and grins up at him. "Nah, you're the muscle. Obviously." She rolls her eyes.

"I ain't ever had to come this far out for supplies. Who knows what might be out here in the desert? Could be cannibals, or dragons, or witches." Turning to walk backwards, her hazel eyes not the same colour as her father's but containing no less mischief for it, she tilts her head at his suggestion.

"I was kinda hopin' it would be bigger than that," she admits, though a pool would be pretty fun. It doesn't take long before they're among the jumble of canvas tents and caravans and other once vibrant structures faded by the sun, Fiadh heading straight for their pickup spot like an arrow.

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

"No, of course you don't." The alchemist agrees smoothly. "I am just trying to understand how you don't." He adds, glancing at her appraisingly over his shoulder (she being as tall as he was already), before shrugging. "Muscle, mm? I am more than just my body, you know." Remi says, feigning a pout as he sniffs and looks away. Actually, being used for his body was about the most uncomplicated thing the world could ask of him these days, and he really didn't mind. Especially not when it was Fiadh doing the asking.

"Or all three." Remi suggests with a low chuckle, before snorting. "If it was larger than that, everyone in the desert would want to come and swim. Sometimes bigger is not always better." He says before laughing at his own suggestion; bigger was almost always better. Following along, Remi looms in Fiadh's shadow. Not casting one himself, it's like he's some sort of odd extension of the gthrifter.

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

"You seen me? That's how I don't." Get swindled she means, Fiadh assuming she doesn't need to elaborate on that. The sway of her hips is usually enough to get her into and out of trouble, and if that fails then her silver tongue can do the rest. "I know you are, but our bodies are useful. Minds too, I guess." Ducking beneath the canvas flap of one of the caravans, it's without ever checking to see if it's safe that Fiadh begins to clank around.

"Or all three!" she trills back from within the structure. There's a tinkle of breaking glass and an "Oops!" from the (definitely g)rifter, and she emerges a few moments later covered in sand and dust and proudly holding aloft a dinky little box covered in canvas. "This is what Da said would be here. You wanna open it? He said not to, so I'm obviously gonna."

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

Were he her father Remi might have had a good deal to say about having seen her and what he might infer about her ways. His role was more like some close-in-age-uncle he supposed, where he really had no say over the who's and hows of her life, leaving him overly protective of her with no real justification for it. "I'm just saying that I'm more than a piece of punchable meat, that's all." Remi says with a smirk.

Standing outside with his arms folded and a posture that was inadvertently intimidating, the alchemist coughs loudly to try and disguise the sound of breaking glass. A woman, aptly noticing his lack of a shadow, narrows her eyes and mutters something at him in a language he doesn't understand (probably a curse), before scuttling off.

"I know for a fact you have heard the story of Pandora." Remi replies, which serves both as a warning and also his reasoning for not saying something like, wow, that's it? "Here? Or...away from all the caravans? Because if it is going to suddenly become a pool, here is not a very good spot."

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

"Oh, I know. We've all heard the noises comin' from your houseboat. Your meat's more than just punchable," Fiadh drawls, taking the bark from between her teeth now to try and prod the canvas away from the box, as if that's somehow going to protect her from any nasty surprises from the (hopefully) supplies within it. She's already crouching on her heels as if she might open the box when Remi makes his annoyingly good points, and so Fiadh grumbles and crab walks away until she considers herself a 'safe' distance.

"A'right, what you holdin'..." she grumbles at the box, unwrapping it and lifting the lid on it, only to snap a sudden stream of musical curses. They are loud enough to have people peeping out from the tents and some scrawny carrion birds flapping away. Rising to her feet, Fiadh whips around, red cheeked, and thrusts the box at Remi.

Within is a note, in Ianto's perfectly looped handwriting.

Hi.

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

"Maybe you should start selling earplugs, then." Remi quips back immediately. It should be more of an uncomfortable topic, but the alchemist was quite certain there wasn't anyone who knew him, who didn't also know how absolutely smitten he was by the Huntsman ('s body). And certainly, there wasn't anyone in the Greatwood with ears who wasn't aware for precisely the reason Fiadh had pointed out.

Reaching for the shadows that were running away from the sun's light to thrust toward Fiadh just in case whatever was inside wasn't a pool but something much worse, a few inch her way as she swears enthusiastically. The only thing stopping them from wrapping themselves around her is the annoyance that flushes through the attuned bond which had Remi releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Opening the box, the alchemist finds himself grinning widely at the immediately recognizable scrawl of his friend.

"Awww. That was sweet of him." Then, just in case the box was more than it appeared, Remi raised it to his lips as if the merchant might be able to hear him. "I am out of tea." He whispers. Who knew? Maybe Ianto could hear him through it.

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

"Sweet?" The two points of colour are high on Fiadh's cheeks now, and it is apparent that whilst she can't be swindled by most, her father is absolutely the exception to that rule. "We came all the way out here an' if I had bollocks they'd be sweatin' off, an' he leaves a fuckin' note?" It's like a brewing storm or a volcano about to erupt, the way she simmers and grows a similar colour to her hair.

Only rather than exploding in a temper, Fiadh shrinks. And shrinks some more. Ideally she'd have become a raccoon, just to thrust her little hands up at Remi and ask to be picked up, all petulant like. But it's far too hot for that, so he gets a vibrantly flecked green snake instead. Looping her way up the nearest tree (which happens to be Remi's right leg), the boomslang's grumbling becomes good natured(?) sulking.

Would you take me home please? It's very hot.

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

Glancing up through sweat-soaked curls, looking surprised to see the blooming outrage on Fiadh’s pale face, Remi can only grin. “Yes sweet.” The alchemist replies. “Besides, maybe you can sell it as having been written by Ludo back when he was a boy, or even the Voice.” He points out with a slight bob of his eyebrows, wisely leaving commentary about just how sweaty his own balls were left unsaid.

Looking down at the raccoon suddenly gesticulating wildly to be picked up, Remi feels his heart melt in unfair ways. Quickly though the traces of neediness disappear along with the shift as Fiadh helps herself up his leg. If there’s no pool to be had, then yes. Reaching down a hand, his ruined one has it happens, for her to twine around that she might ascend up the rest of him without having to find out first hand just how sweaty his balls were, Remi glances around. Nothing else you need while we’re here?

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".

are you telling this story or am I?

Maybe, Fiadh says, though the tone of her voice still suggests she's complaining about it, the serpent coiling around Remi's remaining fingers before making her way up and around his neck and shoulders. A forked tongue flickers out to taste the air and kiss his cheek in thanks, before the head-end of the boomslang nestles in Remi's curls while the rest remains as a rather fetching green scarf.

I don't think so. You ever been out here before? Da said people come here to make shady deals, an' you can find people who'll sell you ThirdEye for next to nothin'. Still cheaper to go an' prick yourself on a Dream Cactus, I reckon. Fiadh's tongue flicks out again, but evidently she finds nothing of interest.

Fiadh

he said "i bet you don't remember me"

Not here specifically. The alchemist replies, setting off down the walkway they’d come down and trying to remind himself that the weight in his curls was Fiadh rather than something to be swatted away.

What do you know about all this....this Kicking at what might once have tried to be some sort of fern but was now as thin and dry has burned paper, Remi lowers his head slightly that Fiadh might be able to see what he was indicating without having to move. Someone send Ronin a letter about it. About how strange it was that there were so many dead plants here, but...surely dead plants in a desert are...what one would expect? Really, you should be asking your son Remi hey that’s a good idea for our next thread, but if Fiadh came here as often as she made out, she might have some ideas.

THE ALCHEMIST

and i said, "only every other memory".