Monday, February 24, 2014

Day Six-Forty-One: Temporary PCs

I feel like I'm losing control of this trip. And it's everyone else's fault. I am not to blame and I know it.

(Okay, maybe I am, but you know what? Judgemental little diary? Fuck you. I can say what I want and blame who I want and you have to sit there and take it.)



(I need a vacation.)

I wasn't in the mood to hear any solid explanations as to why we suddenly had a band of gypsies on our tail last friday. All I wanted to do, in the wake of the Cirque du Magnifuckery's departure, was to sleep. I felt exhausted. So I slept, and I dreamed, and the dreams were awful, because my dreams are always awful, and gods help me, he's always there, staring at me. He's there and he's smiling and he doesn't fucking blame me

Losing track. Calming breaths, Dragomir. Calming breaths.

I still wasn't in much of a mood to talk to a complete stranger when I woke up late this morning. Nevertheless, Libby booted me out of bed and forced me to sit down with Lisanna, the head of the current gypsies, and discuss why in the hells they're still following us.

"It's simple," she said, taking a sip from a glass of orange juice. "Ahhh, that's right dandy stuff, it is. Simple: ye need us, 'n we could use you."

My eye twitched. For the fourth time I set my fork down. I still hadn't touched my plate of ham beyond the first bite, and the first bite was still harpooned onto the end of the fork. "We need you. How's that, exactly?"

"Well, judgin' by yer course, I'd say yer headed towards Rodentia. That about right?"

I motioned to Bora to bring me something to drink. She gave me the finger. I guess she's still pissed about our last conversation. "No, actually, that's not right. We wanna avoid Rodentia. We're going 'round."

"That so? Well, ye could still use us. We can explain away yer big transport, here, as part of our act. Might wanna pull in those cannons, mind - I doubt our union license'd cover that."

"Yeah. The gypsy union. I figured that was just bullshit to get rid of your competitors."

Lisanna smirked. "tis and t'isn't. Ye do need a license to perform on a big scale 'round here. Ain't a criminable offense, though - ye just get told te fuck off 'n try your luck elsewheres."

I wanted to argue the point, but I like Lisanna a lot more than Ramone. Which isn't to say I like Lisanna, but she seems more honest than that big-booted mask muncher. "Okay. So maybe we could use you. Why do you need us?"

Lisanna peered 'round her vast snake hood at a nearby table. Logan was busy chatting with Antonio, Lisanna's orc compatriot. The pair were laughing and swapping stories while Nagi read a book, looking a little put out by the noise level. "That'd be why."

"Huh?" I followed her gaze, not understanding.

"Him. Them." She shook her head. "Ye know we've travelled together a bit, yeah?"

I drummed my fingers on the table, waiting for a point. "I've heard some things, maybe. Them and Plato."

"Aye, the platypus." Lisanna paused a moment, squinted, and smiled. "Ahh, ye're the one that was on his Wanted posters! He pestered me every day with those blasted things. Glad he found ye."

"Mmm." I didn't really want to think about the point of my journey at the moment, so I shoved the revelation rudely aside. "What about them all?"

Lisanna's wooden fingers came together in a neat pyramid, propping up her chin. "They're good at gettin' in te trouble. 'n if they're travellin' with you, that probably means ye're good at gettin' inte trouble, love. And if there's one thing my son gravitates to, it's trouble."


"Yep." She sighed. "He went missin', oh, a year back? Which ain't such a big thing, in itself, but the news to the west... what we've been hearin'... kinda makes me wanna bring him back inte the fold. For his safety, y'know."

I should have shut my mouth right there. I should've been content with my mental image of a young gypsy snake person, similar to Lisanna but taller and stronger and dumber. A restless itinerant who had obviously struck out on his own, seeking an independent fortune. I should have been content with not knowing exactly who her son was. But, stupid me, I plowed ahead.

"What's he look like? Maybe we've, I dunno, come across him."

She laughed. "Oh, lordy, my boy, ye'd know if ye met m'son. Traveller's hard te forget."

I frowned. "I gathered that he was a traveller -"

"Nope. Nope!" Lisanna rocked back in her chair a little, laughing harder. "That's his name, Mr. Dragomir, that's his name!"

"... what's his name?"

Like I said, I shouldn't have asked.

Lisanna and her band have been welcomed to come along for now. They're friendly enough, I guess, and Lisanna has promised to steer us well away from Rodentia. In exchange... if we ever come across her son... she is to get away from us. Immediately.


Fuck. Traveller? The dude who has wanted posters all over the damned Imperium? The guy so destructive that we heard about him back in Pubton? Fuck me, why did he have to be her bloody son?



Dragomir the Vexed

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