this is me (roughwaters) wrote in _fracture_, @ 2014-05-17 13:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | caleb, chapter 2, lavel, marian |
Not the Leading Man
Who: Marian and Caleb
When: Morning
Where: Tournament Grounds
She’d spent the night in the castle like he told her, but it wasn’t exactly any better inside, what with wolves and birds and rabid chipmunks or something storming the banquet hall, but things had eventually calmed enough that there was something other to do than be scared. She’d set to work the moment someone would let her, helping with the hurt, the wounded, trying to get them what they needed. All the while she’d asked questions, listened to stories, picked up bits and pieces of information here and there. A witch had attacked they said. That the animals rampaging was her fault. It sounded ridiculous, but at the same time, what Marian had seen wasn’t normal.
All the while she watched the door for him. She assumed he’d be next. He’d said he would come back, he’d all but promised, but again and again he wasn’t there. She waited until dawn, barely sleeping, but as the others started to leave, started to find safety outside, to pull the tournament back together, Marian went with them. Her dress was stained with blood, none of it hers, but there nonetheless from helping out, her arms flaking a little bit of dried blood here and there as well. She hadn’t slept which meant dark circles under her eyes and her hair far more wild than it had been the night before. She looked a mess, but she had one goal, searching through the people for him, determined to find him.
Caleb had been out more or less all night, doing exhaustive work cutting animals down. He didn't feel great about it. Usually, it was people he had issues with, animals were alright, but in this case, they really, really weren't. Shit. Either way, he had been busy doing that, and by the time he was done, he'd lost track of Marian. He had no idea where she'd gone. He looked for her, but got nowhere. He had stopped by a rain barrel, to dump some of it over his head, so he could feel somewhat clean. Scrubbing at his face, he paused when he spotted Marian. “Over here,” he called.
She turned at the voice, not expecting it to be for her before she spotted him, hurrying to him as best she could in bare feet and a dress that still wasn’t any better for running. She didn’t stop once she was close either, reaching out for him, torn between checking him for injuries and just holding on for dear life. He was a stranger, someone she only knew because she’d accidentally woke up in a bed with him the first time she’d seen him, but she still had that fear that people were just going to disappear. Just leave with no warning. She settled for holding on to his arm, pulling herself closer to him, but not doing more than looking him over. “Were you hurt?” He was wet up close, that much was obvious and really shouldn’t have suited him as well as it did, but Marian forced herself to focus.
He had various injuries, but nothing that serious. Or, nothing he considered serious, at any rate. “I'm fine,” he told her. “You? Any of that blood yours?” he asked, not sure why she'd grabbed on, but he didn't try to get her off, either. If it made her feel better, it was fine.
Marian was still looking him over, frowning where she saw what damage he had. At his question though she looked at her dress and shook her head. “No. I was trying to help in the castle. It was a mess in there too.” She kept her hand on his arm for a moment longer, but then realized it was a bit odd with her not doing anything more than holding onto him, so she pulled it away slowly. “What happened out here?”
“The Birds, only with animals,” Caleb said. “I'm sure it was the same in there. You're okay, though?” he asked, just to be sure. “See anyone else from the hotel?” he was wondering how everyone fared. There'd been a hell of a lot of insanity the night before, and who knew if it was really over yet.
Marian shuddered a little at the thought. “It wasn’t much better. Wolves in the banquet hall. Birds too,” she explained. She glanced at him, surprised that he was asking if she was alright again when she’d told him she hadn’t been hurt. “Physically I’m fine. I didn’t see anyone specific I recognized, but I don’t think I met that many people before we wound up here.” She reached out to touch the skin below a cut on his arm with a frown. “You don’t look completely fine.”
“My definition of 'fine' is probably different than a lot of people's,” he confessed. “I'm not down any limbs, my ability to deal out damage isn't impaired – I'm fine.” He dumped a little more water over his head, scrubbed his hands over it, then looked around. “I was hearing they're still planning on going ahead with more of the tournament.”
“That much I’ve figured out on my own,” Marian quipped, not able to help herself or her tiny flash of a smile. Nor was she able to help staring at him a little as he dumped more water on his head. “That’s what everyone is saying. That they won’t let that witch spoil their fun.” It was all very bizarre and almost politically charged.
“Yeaaah, I heard about that,” he said, skepticism in his voice. “Sounds stupid to me, but then again...” what happened last night had been just as dumb, and there was the entire reason they were here in the first place. That didn't actually fit in with his version of reality either. He focused his attention on her, not having missed that she was somewhat checking him out, though he didn't say anything about it. “You need new clothes,” he pointed out.
“Rumors like that are always based in something. While it can be explainable without lore or fairytales, it exists. The real truth of the story is always there,” Marian said, pretty sure she sounded like one of her textbooks from journalism school. She caught his focus turning back to her, blushing ever so slightly at it. “I do I guess. If I can find some.”
“Sure they are, but still,” he said, not buying it til he saw it, really. “You much of a truth seeker?” he asked, since she'd rattled that off quick. “And I'm sure there's something. I know I had coins of some description with my stuff, take whatever,” he told her.
She quirked another friendly smile at him and nodded. “I’m a reporter, so yes, always seeking the truth. That was what I was looking for when I listened in on conversations and asked questions about the witch, but I’ve not learned much of use yet.” She shook her head at his offer. “I can’t take your money. I’ll look through my things. I might have a spare dress.”
“A reporter? Magazine, internet, paper?” he asked, wondering what kind. “And don't worry about it, it isn't my money. It came with the rest of the shit in the tent, so have at it,” he insisted. He felt no attachment to it whatsoever, just like he certainly didn't claim ownership of anything else he'd woken up with.
“Newspaper,” Marian confirmed. “Just a small local one, but I’m always waiting for that big break.” Though she hoped the big break was going to be her father’s case. That was the story that mattered. She shook her head still. “What if we’re here for a long while? You might still need it. We might still need it.”
“Well, good for you. I hope you get out of here and sell this story to some huge publication,” he told her. Then he just looked at her. “If you want to run around in bloody rags or some shit, go for it. Or, you can just take what's being freely offered, and get something nice. Choice is yours.” He always found it annoying when people got a little too self sacrificing, or what he perceived as such.
“I’m not sure anyone would believe this story,” Marian said, shaking her head. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous, trying to explain the story of a lifetime as to where she was transported all over the world and time. She looked up at him when he said that, mouth opening in an ‘o’ before she closed it. For a moment she was put out, not sure what he’d know about not having much, making a habit of stretching everything thin. She was just trying to plan ahead. “I’ll find something new,” she conceded after a moment just to keep from having to explain her entire sordid history to him, but it showed in her eyes for a moment. “Thank you.” She looked away from him, back towards where they were already starting to set up the tournament again. “Will you compete today?”
“Maybe not. Maybe you could sell it to Hollywood,” Caleb suggested. He caught the annoyance there, but didn't say anything. He was washing his hands of it. She'd do what she wanted. He shrugged. “I don't know yet. I'm exhausted, but...” he trailed off, unsure.
“Who wants to do that? We all know they’ll just ruin the script, make it awful and barely believable. Oh and add a love story. We’d be hooking up,” she said looking at him as he trailed off in what he was saying. “Do you want to compete or do you feel like you should?”
“I'd be a main character?” he asked. “Unlikely. I'm sure there's a leading man in the hotel crew you could do that with,” he told her. “As for the tournament, I don't know. I guess I'll see how I feel when it starts up.”
“Well you’re here rescuing people aren’t you?” she asked. At his statement she almost laughed and tilted her head at him. “Why aren’t you a leading man? Just the gruff exterior?” He was curious, the way he acted, how he saw things. “Well if you decide to compete, I’ll be here to help.”
“Who says someone else isn't?” he posed. “Or make you the main character, follow your trials and tribulations,” he said, starting to walk toward the tournament grounds. “Good to know,” he told her. “As for why I'm not a leading man, let's just say I lack the qualities, and leave it there.”
“I haven’t met anyone else yet. And I’m no main character. Just a touching backstory, that’s all.” She followed after him, not letting him get too far. “You lack the qualities? Strong, mysterious, and handsome? Sounds like a homerun to me.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “No one? Well, trust me, there are other people around, so...you should meet them,” he said. Even if he knew he hadn't met everyone yet either. He eyed her at the last bit. What was it with very young girls telling him he was handsome? “You can add in 'asshole' and 'violent'.”
“Well besides your brother, though he would make a good leading man.” He’d had a way with words that made Marian melt. “Though I will take that into consideration, looking for someone else.” She wasn’t sold yet though. Even that look that he gave her, that didn’t phase her. The happy waitress had no issue with telling him he was handsome. “That hardly rules you out for leading man quality. I mean Don Draper is a grade A asshole and most of those knights or heroes or whatever, they’re typically violent just to do the saving.”
“I’m done with this conversation,” he told her, tone a little amused, and there was a hint of a smirk at the edges of his mouth. He kept walking. “Go, find something better to wear, then come see if I decided to participate today,” he told her.
Marian caught that smirk, or the hint of one, smirking herself. “Alright Draper, I’ll find something better to wear and then come cheer you on.” She had a good feeling he’d be competing. It just seemed like something he’d do. There was a moment of hesitation before she reached out to squeeze his arm gently, then she started off towards their tent.