Who: Cyrus & Drake What: Lost and found with Cyrus, umpteenth edition Where: The street! When: Late this afternoon Rating: Tame! Status: Complete
Parts of the Commoners’ District were becoming familiar now, though on occasion Cyrus still found himself struggling to figure out just how they fit together in a mental map that seemed to make very little sense. There always seemed to be buildings where streets ought to be, and the various construction efforts didn’t help in the least. Fortunately, the sentinel didn’t mind wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar alleyways. Someone always offered to show him the way eventually -- so much for city folk being rude or unhelpful, what an untrue stereotype -- and in the meantime, he sometimes happened upon pretty interesting things.
He’d stopped for awhile at a half-crushed storefront to help a boy who seemed too young for heavy lifting shift some bricks for the wall he was in the process of rebuilding. An older woman -- the boy’s grandmother, maybe, by their identically hooked noses -- had handed him a meat pie before he went on his way, so he’d considered the stop more than worth his time.
Now he chewed as he walked down another street -- headed south, that was about the extent of his knowledge of his present location -- wondering if he might be able to find the park today. There wasn’t enough green around here, with all the dust and brick and stone taking precedence. Maybe he’d skip the barracks tonight and find that honeysuckle bush again…
Drake had really meant to grab some food and get back to the office, he had. But then he’d spilled his tea all down the front of his shirt, so he’d had to go home and change it, and by the time he’d done that, well, he was already running late so may as well take his time. Between keeping an eye on the mages who were still experiencing harassment - mostly the younger, less experienced ones - and toeing around Aspel and Ari, and just not thinking about Zacheus at all, he hadn’t had much time to himself.
Which only meant that he was now getting lost in his own thoughts, and not paying any attention to his surroundings. Not usually a problem since he knew this area like the back of his hand, but that didn’t mean that other people did. Like the guy that he crashed into.
The monk reached out to steady both himself and his unfortunate victim before realizing who he’d run into. “Cyrus?”
Of all people to go barreling into, Cyrus figured he could have chosen much worse. Concern passed over his face quickly to be replaced by a bright smile. He’d known Drake was in Emillion -- their conversation on the network recently had reminded him of the particularly rainy summer half a decade back that the monk had spent training at the mountain outpost. Seeing him in person, though, Cyrus had to admit he looked different -- a bit broader in the shoulders, far more nicely dressed than he’d ever seen him, and… tired. Something around the eyes.
Or was it just a trick of the light?
He smiled just as he had before, though, as Cyrus grasped his hand firmly, gave it a solid shake. “That’s a more enthusiastic greeting than I expected -- even if it was probably my fault.” Eden, who had stalked him halfway across town the other day, would probably have used the custom-made opportunity to latch on and not let go. “Didn’t think I’d be running into you here.” He would have thought that the councilors had more work than they knew what to do with, but who knew? Maybe wandering on a sunny afternoon was good for mental clarity.
“I’d have hit you with an Aura Bolt instead, but I was preoccupied,” Drake replied dryly. “Better luck next time and all that.” He took a step back and looked the other man over, noting that he wasn’t as skinny as the last time they’d seen each other. Granted, neither was Drake, but. It was good to see.
Especially if Cyrus had gone sentinel.
“Not a very good sentinel, though. You couldn’t block the blow. I’m disappointed, Cy.”
Cyrus laughed, not the least self-conscious as he said, “You caught me off-guard -- if you call that a blow at all. Maybe the city’s made you soft?” This was punctuated with a punch to the shoulder. “We’ll have to test that sometime, assuming I ever find the guildhall again.” This time his smile was a little sheepish.
The councilor shook his head. “Which one are you looking for? I’m headed to Bahamut myself.” He grinned. “If anything’s made me soft, it’s the paperwork. Seriously, do you know how many pieces of parchment are needed to fix a sink? Five.” Sometimes, he still had a hard time believing the bureaucracy that he had to deal with.
He looked around, trying to orient himself. Crystal was the fastest way, but it was just as likely to make him sick as not. And he really didn’t want to have to change his shirt again. “I’ll take you,” he offered.
Cyrus gave him a puzzled look. “Why not take a wrench and simply… fix the sink?” he asked, genuinely confounded by the idea of papers for everyday maintenance. Wouldn’t someone know to get to it once they realized it was broken?
The city was a strange place.
“I’ll take the escort to Bahamut,” he said easily. “I was looking for the park, but I wouldn’t turn down good company. Or a spar, come to that -- it’s been awhile.” He was still grinning as he fell into step beside the other man, forgetting to watch and memorize the route as he said, “It might be interesting to see how I match up against a councilor who battles parchment all day.”
“I’ll have you know that a sink cannot be fixed without the requisite paperwork.” He rolled his eyes, showing what he thought of it. Seriously, though - a quick fix of anything always took longer than necessary because of the forms. It was really kind of ridiculous, although he knew now that it had to do with expense tracking and maintenance. If the same sink kept breaking, chances were there was something else going on.
He winced internally; now he was starting to justify the paperwork. What had the world come to?
At any rate, he started towards the direction of the guildhall, Cyrus beside him. “I battle more than parchment. Like giant turtles. And Babils. And murderous vegetables.”
“I heard about the turtles… and the Babils,” Cyrus said. His conversations on the network had given him a lot to write back about -- and too much fodder for his thoughts. Beasts didn’t just… appear out of thin air. At least, outside of the Misty areas, they didn’t -- what went on in those places rife with magicks wasn’t always so logical or easy to explain. But this was a major population center!
“The murderous vegetables are a new one, but that happens everywhere. There was an infestation of Pumpkin Heads up north once -- they made a right mess of this one village, had everyone Confused and wrestling in the town square.” It had almost been funny until the Rangers who had come upon it had had to pacify near-feral villagers before they could get near the beasts responsible. Mostly, those sorts of creatures were pests until they congregated in large groups.
“Ran into a group of vegetables led by a Deadly Nightshade. Not sure how they ended up in the flatlands outside the city. I was with a few of the squires, too.” He shook his head, remembering. They’d managed just fine once he’d barked out a strategy, but the Nightshade was still out there. With his luck, he’d run into the blasted thing the next time he was with the squires.
“Just thinking about them makes me want a salad.”
Cyrus laughed. “That’s not the worst reaction you could have. I could do with a salad.” He was nearly always hungry, and considering he hadn’t yet pinpointed the best eateries and one couldn’t exactly hunt up dinner in the middle of the city (nor cook it over a spit in the park, either), he grabbed things where he could get them, the meat pit of earlier a prime example.
“At least I haven’t been fighting flan recently,” he teased, unable to help himself. Of all the memories he had of Drake’s stay at the enclave, those were by far the most vivid (and the most amusing). “That always makes me want dessert.”
“You know,” Drake said, looking at Cyrus sideways, “I keep forgetting I’m supposed to like you whenever you bring up Chocobo-blasted flan.” He shuddered, picturing the gelatinous mass wriggling. It was the stuff of nightmares, it really, really was.
He turned the corner and saw Bahamut looming ahead. “Anyway, we’re here, flan-free.”
“I’d say it’s a shame, but you're a councilor now, so you’re probably supposed to be dignified,” Cyrus responded easily. “I’m guessing the paperwork calls?,” he added, seeing the resigned look on the other man’s face, “but let me know if you get an hour free.” He smiled, wide and friendly, as he added, “I’d like to see that suplex, assuming you can catch me.”
“I can catch you. And then I can suplex you.” Drake grinned and clapped Cyrus on the shoulder. “Might have some time free up towards the end of the day.” Which was only three hours away. He could only imagine the pile of parchment on his desk. “Stay out of trouble. I’ll see you around.”
“See you.” Cyrus watched Drake square his shoulders and head into the guildhall. Considering a minute, he followed.