i've got a responsibility, that's my liability Who: Jareth Monaco, Araceli Monsivais, Ari Chiaro What: Founders Festival Day 001: Jariceli edition Where: The Theatre District When: This afternoon Rating: PG-14 bc Jareth Status: Complete!
It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he’d thought it was going to be, and she hadn’t introduced him to any of her friends - something he still wasn’t entirely sure was a good idea. She’d said they were nice, and he was sure they were perfectly fine - to her. He, on the other hand, was not the nicest of people. And the last thing he wanted to do to was bring more attention to himself by the Church. He was hiding his Fell abilities, but still. Better to not take chances.
Hell, he hadn’t even told Celi about that, and he wasn’t planning on it. Although if she knew Wolfe, then he might have to some time down the road.
Not something he wanted to think about.
They’d wandered towards the Theatre district; he’d intended to stop by his apartment, maybe grab some more gil. Celi hadn’t asked for anything, but he wanted to make sure he could afford it if she did.
She had been walking a few steps ahead of him, one arm sometimes extended behind her to say follow me (for him to take if he needed, the way she had Lex do as well). Araceli spun around, her hair tied in a loose ponytail by a dark ribbon, to keep track of the man in her shadow, a man of shadows.
“Jareth,” she began, “what shall we do n&mdash”
But distracted by the festivities, she miscalculated her step. The mage swerved to balance as she nearly collided with festival participants wandering the streets.
“Sorry!” she apologized to those who passed, a hint of humor still in her voice.
It was a good thing, Ari thought, that she had not given in to whim and taken the cello out today; the lute case she carried made it much easier not to topple all the way over when she was jostled. “No harm done,” she assured, her own voice cheerfully friendly as she beheld the smiling woman who had collided with her.
Her smile widened, however, when she spotted the woman’s companion, whose suddenly wary expression told her he wasn’t terribly thrilled about the encounter. Which meant, of course, that she simply had to comment, saying, “Now, Jareth, don’t hide that smile on my account. The world will forgive you if you have a good time in pleasant company, you know.”
Great, he thought grimly. He’d moved to grab Celi before she could collide with anyone, but it hadn’t been necessary, and now he was thinking it was a damn good thing that he hadn’t. The last thing he needed was the bard to see him hold her wrist and get ideas.
Still, he needed to be polite, and so he nodded. “Not hiding anything, Ari.” He carefully didn’t look at Celi.
Araceli looked from the bard to Jareth, her arms folding in mock reprimand. “You two are acquainted?” she asked, curiosity sparking behind her eyes. After learning of his acquaintance with Wolfe, the young mage grew even more eager to learn about the life Jareth had led without her.
Here in Emillion, he seemed to know this young girl.
Ari laughed and told him, “And yet here you are, looking like a thundercloud even when accompanied by a pretty woman -- for shame.” Actually, had she ever seen Jareth with a woman, aside from Aspel? They didn’t keep the same hours, but she spotted him on the street now and again, coming and going from his apartment across the street, and she didn’t think so.
The woman seemed much more sociable than the berserker, so Ari turned her attention to her and said, “I should say so, seeing as we’re neighbors.” Among other things, she didn’t add; the rest of her dealings with Jareth were a bit complicated to explain to a stranger, even a friendly one. “He likes to glower at me when I catch him petting his cat. Occasionally, I buy him coffee.”
Never had the urge to flee been so strong in his life. Araceli did not need to know about how attached he was to his cat. “Right, well. Would hate to keep you. Sure you have important shit to do and shit.” He reached for Celi’s hand, intending to pull her away from what he was beginning to think of as his doom.
He had hope, but he also knew Celi (or who she used to be; he still didn’t know this woman, not really) - there was little chance that she was going to let him drag her away. Indeed, she let him take her hand but her attention was still fixated on Ari. The mage did not leave her place.
“Neighbors and coffeemates,” Araceli said, turning to the man. (The note about petting his cat did not surprise her; she thought it might be like Jareth who had taken her in to treat cats as kindly.) “I thought you had said you did not have friends.”
Before Ari could say anything, Jareth cut in. “We’re not,” he told the mage. “She’s a…. friend of an…. acquaintance.” Aspel wasn’t quite an acquaintance, but he couldn’t really figure out a better way to describe her. Lover had never quite felt right, and there was more to their relationship than just fuck buddies.
Why did everything in his life have to be complicated?
“Alas, I would claim friendship but he doesn’t want me,” Ari said merrily. “You’re doing better than I am, in that regard. I’m Ari, by the way,” she said, putting out her hand, still smiling, “since my non-friend seems in no hurry to introduce us. And you?”
The mage took the bard’s hands with both of hers and shook it eagerly. “Araceli,” she answered. “I knew your non-friend from before I came to Emillion. This is our first Founders Festival.” With that, she smiled at Jareth. To think, this third party thought she and Jareth were friends when Ari and Jareth were not. Even after years apart, the pieces fell back to place.
Jareth clenched his fist; there was no way the bard was going to miss that our, as though Jareth and Araceli were a unit. This was going to get out of hand, quickly, if he didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t exactly figure out what to say. It wasn’t as though he could tell Ari that it wasn’t what it looked and sounded like, because it wasn’t. Never had been.
“Don’t you have a show or something?” he asked Ari, voice perfectly calm and pleasant. Not at all desperate.
“I do,” Ari said, only grinning toothily at his discomfort, “tomorrow, in fact. You,” a light, casual touch upon Araceli’s shoulder, “ought to get him to take you. If this is your first Founders, the play is the one thing you absolutely should not miss. And I’m only a little biased.”
She turned her grin back at Jareth, and couldn’t resist adding, “Don’t worry, neighbor, I’ll let you get back to your date now. I have scavenger hunters to hide from.”
At the implication that she and Jareth were on a date, Araceli threw back her head, her hair swaying back and forth, and laughed a delicate but bright sound of mirth. “I would very much like to see the play, miss Ari,” she said, smiling up at Jareth but not bothering to deny what Ari had called them. “Good luck from your hunters.”
He should have stayed home. With booze. And his cat. Not asked Celi to go to this fucking festival. This would teach him to be nice in the future. Jareth didn’t bother to protest the comment about his date, even though the insinuation made him want to find the nearest guild hall and pummel the first person he saw.
“Good luck,” he told Ari sullenly.
“You’re never to say that,” Ari chided. “Tell me to break a leg, and try to do it in a way that doesn’t cause me to suspect you mean literally, hmm?”
“Meant from the scavenger hunters,” he clarified, not mentioning the show. The way Celi’s eyes had lit up at that invitation already sealed his fate there; if she asked him to go, he would.
Fuck it all.
“In which case, thank you, and I shall now do as I promised and leave you two to your afternoon. I’ll see you at the play. And elsewhere, I hope,” Ari added to the other woman. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“A pleasure, indeed!” Araceli echoed, then with the new idiom in mind: “Break a leg, then!”
Waving goodbye to Jareth’s non-friend with one hand, Araceli used the other to pull him away into the streets filled with shops and other performers. A crowd of celebrating Emillionites swallowed up the mage and berserker pair, one with a wider smile than the start and the other with a soured scowl.