Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Day Six-Thirty-Eight: Old Man Dragomir

The Cirque du Magniwonderful is still fucking here, and because they're still fucking here my group doesn't want to leave. FUCK.

I can understand why. We've been through some shit in the last few weeks. (As if I can't apply that to any part of our journey. It has been a crap storm of the highest order.) Not only was everyone mind controlled into acting like freak shows for two weeks straight, we lost two of our number. Permanently. Who wouldn't want to forget all that?

Me. I don't. Fuck revelry. We have better things to do.

I'm the only one who thinks so, apparently. Most everyone else spent virtually the entire day with the gypsies, making merry and having fun. From one of the portholes in the side of the Dauphine I watched Grylock play a dart game; I watched Jeffrey swat at a paper duck with a mallet while blindfolded; I watched Libby arm wrestle the bigger teddy bear; I watched Ed JIM, his fucking name is Jim, drink way too much apple cider; I watched Fynn ride the snow hippo.

I watched fun. And I wanted in. But I also wanted to leave. I wanted to leave more than I wanted in.

"You can go out there, you know. You don't have to stay in here with me."

I turned, waving a hand towards Daena. She was knitting a blanket. "It's no problem. I don't mind. S'not fair to you, is it? You'd be all alone."

"No I wouldn't." She pointed across the Neo Beefiary at Bora, who was also knitting a blanket. The same blanket. It's going to be a very long blanket. "I have company."

"Yeah. Great." I sneered as I turned away. "And why aren't you out there? I haven't asked."

"How nice of you to talk to me," Bora commented dryly. "I've had my share of gypsies in the past. Don't need any more of 'em."

"Oh? And why's that?"

She shrugged. "I don't trust 'em. They cause more trouble than they're worth."

"I see." I paced across the Beefiary, pushing aside chairs as I went, even if they weren't in my way. "But you don't seem to mind your girlfriend that much."

Bora's knitting needles faltered. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Play nice, children, play nice." Daena shot me a stern glance.

I ignored her. "C'mon, we've all seen you with what's-her-name. You two are so chummy. Might as well just come out and admit it. She's your damned girlfriend!"

(It's true. I'm convinced of it. Nagi spends most of her time in the Neo Beefiary, chatting away with Bora. It's become a real problem. Damned women are slacking on their duties. You should've seen the tart Bora served me yesterday. It was disgracefully undercooked. She was clearly distracted by the chattering half snake.)

"She is NOT my girlfriend, you dunce!" Bora paused. "And what the devil's the correlation between her 'n those gypsies? You're talkin' nonsense."

"Whatever." I waved my hands, as though constructing an image of Nagi out of thin air. "You've seen her. She's got... I dunno... a gypsy vibe. She oozes sleaze and mistrust from her... snake... pores. I can feel it every time she wiggles by me."

"Wow." Bora pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously vexed. "Wow. I've seen the two of you exchange maybe ten words the whole time she's been here, yet you're judgin' her to high heavens. You're quite the little bitch today, Dragomir."

I whirled around. "Don't YOU call me a bitch, you b-"

That's when Queen Daena sent me to my room. No supper. Balls.

Fynn has since returned from the festivities, saying he's had enough of the gypsies for one day, but everyone else is still out in the snow, whooping it up. Apparently they're having a big tug-of-war sometime tonight. I get the feeling Fynn opted out because he doesn't wanna give our side too much of an advantage, but whatever. I enjoy the company.



Dragomir the Wanderer

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