Who: George, Patrick Where: George and Sebastian's apartment When: Monday afternoon, also medieval times What: Storytime! (Originally posted by George, has past elements)
Patrick was greeted with a customary George-hug and a bowl of popcorn when he arrived at George and Sebastian's apartment. In George's opinion, nothing went better with stories than popcorn. The microwaveable stuff had been like a gift from God.
"Okay, I was thinking I'd tell the one with the kelpies," George said, flopping back onto the couch. The cat, who had been sitting on the armrest, shot him a dirty look, which George paid no attention to. "It's a fun one."
He waited until Patrick was seated, then began, "Once upon a time, there were two very rugged and manly saints named George and Patrick, who received word that dozens of people had disappeared from a little village on the west coast of England called Clovelily. They went there to investigate and save the day."
Patrick snorted when George started telling their story as if he was reading it to a child. He very nearly had an incident with popcorn up his nose reminiscent of the bread in his nostrils incident that Clio had caused just the other day.
Once he had sorted out the popcorn and it had gone where it was supposed to, Patrick laughed loudly. "Rugged and manly? Should I write that down!?" Patrick had brought his journal along so he could write down any memories that this story time caused.
"Definitely," George said. Basil the cat had strolled over to Patrick and was investigating his hair with delight. "It's a vital historical fact. It was around 1100 A.D., and they were both feeling rather pleased with themselves. Patrick's Christianizing of the British Isles was going very well, and George had just gotten back from the First Crusade. Yes, this entire story will be in third person."
Patrick grinned and he reached out to scratch Basil's head. "Well I like third person! I...mean Patrick likes it!" Patrick shoved some more popcorn in his mouth and then he wrote down My brother is strange and I suspect it always has been so and then he turned the journal around to show George with a beaming smile on his face. "Look, George, Patrick remembered something!"
George threw a handful of popcorn at Patrick's head. "There is nothing keeping George from pouncing and giving you righteous noogies, you just keep that in mind."
He tossed a few more pieces in his mouth before continuing with, "So yes, George and Patrick were off to Clovelily, having decided to save the people there from whatever ghoul, ghost, or long-legged beastie was terrorizing the town."
FLASHBACK
George was impatient. And when George was impatient, the horses around them tended to become impatient too. It came with being patron saint of horses, and he actually rather enjoyed it. It's why Patrick's horse was shifting impatiently under him, and why George's was prancing in circles around them.
"Whatever it is, it'll have eaten everyone in town by the time we get there."
Patrick looked over at his fellow saint, a man he had come to think of as a brother, and he arched one dark brow at him. "If you could calm down, I would think the horses might make it in better time. Whoa!" he said as his horse gave a little lurch. He narrowed his eyes at George. "You did that on purpose."
"Not my fault your horse agrees with me," George said, shooting Patrick a grin over his shoulder. He always ended up this way when he and Patrick got word of something that needed slaying. It had actually gotten worse since George had come back from the Crusade. He was still riding high off the energy from it, looking to fight anything evil enough to be worth fighting.
He sometimes wondered how his brother put up with his almost manic energy. Lord knew George was aware of it and sometimes annoyed by himself, even if he couldn't do much to control it.
"That must be the place," George said as they topped the hill, looking down at the small collection of buildings and fields that made up the village of Clovelily. It looked like any other town tucked along the English coast, carved out from the wilderness and the ocean.
Patrick leaned forward to pat his horse's neck as the rode down into the village. As with most of the places they visited in the hopes of saving some populace from beasties and ghouls, nothing appeared strange at all. It was only looking deeper that the fear began to show.
"And see, it still stands," Patrick remarked to George with a smirk.
"Maybe the boogeymen already cleared out, knowing we were coming," George said, licking his lips as he looked over the land. He'd be disappointed if whatever was there had already left, really. It would just mean more hunting for it, and George didn't like having to be patient with his slaying.
"Supposedly the innkeeper was one of the first people taken. Think we should go talk to his family?"
"I think it's the best approach, yes. We'll start there and God will lead us in the right direction." Patrick smiled at George and he brought his horse to fall in step with his brother's. "Are you going to be this energetic when asking questions?"
"I might be a bit less cheerful when asking questions of the frightened townspeople," George laughed. "Wouldn't want them to think we were mad."
They made their way to the town carefully, guiding the horses around any rough spots in what passed for the road into Clovelily. It wouldn't do to have one of the horses turn its ankle when they were in sight of their destination.
The village was quiet, quieter than was normal even for such a little place. It was the middle of the day, and yet there was almost no one out on the streets. The people they did pass eyed them with a combination of interest and fear.
Patrick did his best to smile reassuringly at the people who were unnerved by them, as he always did. He never wanted people to fear him. It was easier to spread God's word when people didn't run from you because you were a stranger. He had kind eyes and he smiled with his entire face, which usually reassured people. The villagers of Clovelily, however, seemed to have more on their minds than two strangers riding into town. The few people they did pass did not smile back.
"I see the inn," Patrick pointed, though he was sure George saw it as well. "And doesn't it look inviting?"
It did not.
"Very cozy and welcoming," George agreed, noting with interest that all of the windows that weren't shuttered were boarded up and that every door was tightly closed. This was a town bracing itself for something.
He and Patrick reached the inn and dismounted, tying the horses' reins loosely to a nearby fence. The horses would have stayed loyally in the same spot regardless, but people tended to find a horse staying like a well-trained dog to be unnerving. As a girl poked her head out of the door of the inn and gave an absolutely horrified look towards the horses, George knew that this town didn't need to be any more unnerved than it already was.
"Stay put, lovelies," George told the horses, patting them both on the neck affectionately. He glanced back towards the girl in the door of the inn and added softly, "And make some noise if anyone gets near you, yes?"
The horses taken care of, he and Patrick headed into the inn. They weren't two steps in the door when the girl who'd been watching them burst out, "You have to put your horses in the stable!"
"We'd love to, miss," George said, giving her his most charming smile. "We'd like to get some rooms, if that's all right?"
"Oh." The girl smoothed down her skirts, eyes darting to the still-open door nervously. "Ah. I'm the one you'll need to talk to, then."
"Aren't you a little young to be running an inn?" The tone was teasing, but George's question was serious. The girl couldn't have been more than fourteen.
She smiled a little at them, but her smile faded as she looked towards a room in the back, the door tightly closed. "I've taken over for my mum. She's...not feeling well." The girl glanced down. "I'm Lizzie." Her eyes darted to the door again. "And you have to put your horses in the stable."
"Not a problem," George said, tone still cheerful. "We'll be right back."
Once they were out of earshot of the door and headed to the tiny stable tucked behind the inn, George said, "So. She doesn't seem to like horses."
"No she does not," Patrick said, sounding thoughtful. He reached up to scratch behind his horse's ear just because. "Do you think this is something supernatural, or a case of rogues on horses, terrorizing a small town?" Sometimes, as much as something looked like it was the work of some creature, it was just the work of humans being horrible to each other. But even that George and Patrick could help with to restore peace to these people.
"Considering the way she was eyeing the horses, I'd say the people here think it's supernatural," George said, looking around for anyone who might pop up and declare themselves to be the stablehand.
Apparently, they'd be putting away the horses themselves. That suited George well enough.
"It wouldn't be too hard to use some tricks to convince the people here they're being attacked by demons and ghouls and all manner of things," George said, sliding the saddle off his horse.
Patrick slid off his horse as well, and he chewed his lip as they went about putting the horses into the stables. "You don't think they'll hurt them do you?" Patrick asked, eyeing the horses warily.
Patrick couldn't stand the thought of it.
George considered it as they put the horses up, making sure they were comfortable in the little stable. He rubbed his horse's mane thoughtfully for a moment.
"We'll leave the stalls unlatched, and I'll tell them to stay in here and bite anyone who tries to hurt them," George said finally. He fished an apple out of one of the saddlebags and cut it in half, handing some to both of the horses. "If we take them with us when we leave the area right around the inn, they should be safe."
That decided, they both headed back to the inn, George paying more attention than usual to the horses. Lizzie had been scurrying around, apparently preparing a room for them, and she latched the door tightly after they were inside the inn.
"It seems a little quiet around here," George said evenly.
"There are demons!" Lizzie burst out, startling George a little. Well. That had been easy. "Sirs, I'm sorry, but it's really not safe for you to stay here!"
Patrick raised a calming hand and he gave Lizzie what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's alright. You don't have to worry about us. Why don't you tell us about the demons," he suggested kindly. "Tell us what happened?"
Lizzie glanced between them, looking confused that they weren't as alarmed as she was. She shooed them into a room and closed the door firmly behind her.
"They've been taking people, sirs," she said, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve worriedly. "They took my father, they've taken a dozen people from the village. They look like horses, but they aren't. They drag people to the sea, and they vanish under the water." She swallowed several times, looking down. "My mum saw them take my father. She hasn't gotten out of bed since."
That sounded familiar to Patrick, but he didn't want to say the name of the creatures out loud. Instead he said, "when do they usually come?"
For some reason, that question nearly made Lizzie burst into tears. George went down on one knee so that he could look her in the eye and said, "Lizzie, we might be able to help. My brother and I, we've dealt with things like this before. But you have to tell us as much as you can, all right?"
Lizzie sniffled and nodded. "They usually come at twilight or dawn. There's at least two, I think, since some people say it's a white horse and others say it's black. Some men went out to hunt it a few nights ago, and only two came back. They said...they said that once someone laid a hand on the horse, they couldn't let go at all, like they were stuck to it."
George glanced up at Patrick and mouthed 'Kelpies?'
Patrick nodded and George and then he turned to Lizzie. "Thank you for telling us. My brother and I will do what we can." He didn't want to promise anything and then dash the hopes of this girl. He did believe that God had brought them here for a reason, however, and he believed that they would be victorious.
Once they had managed to reassure Lizzie a bit more, George pulled Patrick into the room they'd bought, the energy he'd been repressing coming back full force.
"Kelpies!" he said, almost bouncing on his toes. "This should be interesting, I haven't fought a kelpie in a long time."
Patrick gave George a look that was both wary and fond. His brother was so excitable. "I don't think it's going to be like a festival," Patrick said with a chuckle. "How do you think we should start?"
"They're usually in freshwater, kelpies are," George said, fingers tapping on the wall rapidly. "If there's anyplace around here where a river flows into the ocean, that might be our best chance at finding them. We'll have to find a way to pull them up on shore, or at least keep them from taking us into the water. Once you touch one, you're good and stuck until its dead."
"Yes, let's not join the casualties here today." Patrick turned and he smiled at his brother. "How do you kill the creatures?"
"The way you would a normal horse," George said, kneeling to dig through one of the bags they'd brought with them. It had a rough map of the area, and he was hoping he could find someplace where a river met the ocean. "Which would be a little disturbing, except these things are totally stealing the image of horses. So really, they deserve it. But anyway, decapitating, stabbing, all of that should take care of them."
"You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?" Patrick asked dryly as he peered over George's shoulder at the map. "Don't lose your head," he said, accidentally making a pun, "I don't feel like rescuing you from the bottom of a river."
"I will enjoy saving this nice village from some very hungry kelpies, and there's not a thing wrong with that," George said, sticking his tongue out at Patrick. "And the same goes to you. There'll be no living with anyone back home if you don't come back in one piece."
Patrick chuckled and he elbowed George in the side. "Is there living with you now?" he joked. "Ah, look," he said, pointing at the map. "That looks promising."
George peered at the spot on the map. It was a rocky, secluded little river, and would probably be hard to get to unless they swam in from the ocean.
Exactly the sort of place a kelpie would probably be. Monsters liked to hide in inaccesible places.
"It's certainly worth a look-see."
"Do you have everything," Patrick asked George unnecessarily. He just liked making sure. He stood and then offered his brother a hand. "Are we going to go swimming?"
George just grinned at his brother, wide and reckless.
An hour and a half later, George and Patrick were creeping along the rocky, beach, investigating the cliffs along the shore where a small river flowed into the ocean. They'd had to swim out several times to get to a patch of beach that was actually flat enough to walk on, and they were both soaked. It was getting dark, the light fading from the sky, and George was about to suggest going back when he spotted an opening in the face of one of the cliffs. It would likely be covered when high tide rolled in, and looked like an ideal spot for a kelpie den.
George nudged his brother and pointed to the cave. "Think we should take a look in there.
"I'm probably going to regret it at least once before this is over, but I think we should," Patrick said, looking at the darkening sky. He reached out to squeeze his brother's shoulder before they did so.
George smiled at his brother and dove into the water, Patrick swimming along beside him. They were both cold and considerably wetter by the time they reached the small cave. The water in it went up to their knees, which irritated George. It would slow them down if they needed to fight.
They'd crept several feet into the cave, barely able to see, when Patrick grabbed George's shoulder. Ahead of them lay what looked like a large horse. It was curled up in the water, apparently sleeping. That alone was bizarre enough to make it a likely kelpie, but George stared at it carefully, reaching out with his powers just to be sure.
He nodded at Patrick after a moment and unsheathed his sword.
Patrick unsheathed his sword as well. He wasn't as natural with one as George was, but he could work it.
Patrick cast a questioning look at his brother. Attack from the front, or try a pincer manoeuvre?
George thought for a moment, then mouthed 'pincer' at his brother. If the kelpie had a mate, hitting the beast from both sides would get rid of it faster and give George and Patrick a chance to deal with any others.
They crept onto either side of the kelpie, doing their best to keep silent in the water. George waited until Patrick was in position and then nodded one more time before lunging forward, driving his sword straight into the neck of the creature.
The kelpie's screech was a horrible, piercing sound, and gritted his teeth in pain. At least it didn't sound like a horse screaming. George couldn't stand the sound of horses in pain.
Patrick leaped forward, bringing his sword down on the kelpie's neck, separating its head from its body.
Patrick breathed hard in the wet cave air, and he turned to see if there was another kelpie coming.
He didn't like hearing anything in pain, but at least now the sound had stopped.
George glanced around the cave, hearing a strange splashing sound getting closer. He tried to pinpoint where the noise was coming from, but the accoustics of the cave made it seem like it was all around them.
"We're going to have company soon," George whispered, tightening his grip on his sword. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement to his left, and stepped to the side just as the other kelpie lunged at him from beneath the dark water. It was particularly disturbing to see a normal-looking horse with a mouthful of teeth that wouldn't have been out of place on a wolf. Its eyes glowed red, and George scrambled onto a rock to try and get the high ground on it.
Once he was looking down at the water, he noticed something very strange about the ripples surrounding himself and Patrick. Almost like...
"Patrick, I think there's more than-" was all George had time to say before roughly twenty kelpies emerged from beneath the water.
"Oh hell."
Patrick's eyes widened for one second while the mob of kelpies emerged from the water, and then he pushed the shock and sudden fear away and went to work. "Back to back!" Patrick yelled out, climbing up beside George and pressing his back against his brother's as he drew his sword. He slashed at one of the creatures who lunged towards him, sending it backing away.
"There shouldn't be this many!" George shouted, more out of frustrated rage than any desire to tell Patrick what they both already knew. Kelpies didn't travel in herds! No one had ever mentioned anything like that before!
He supposed it was their luck to discover a kelpie herd the hard way.
After a few frantic moments of fighting, George was actually starting to feel marginally better about their chances. Back to back, at least he and Patrick wouldn't be snuck up on, and they had something resembling the high ground. The kelpies were too large for the whole herd to rush them at once, and mystical beast or not, they were still flesh and blood.
Naturally, this was the moment things took a turn for the worse. George swung forward, gouging a deep cut into the neck of one of the kelpies. The rock beneath his feet crumpled, pitching him forward and leaving him with his hand stuck to the side of the kelpie. Both he and the injured kelpie paused for a split second, taking in the situation. George would swear the beast made something like a laughing sound.
"Patrick!" And then George was dragged beneath the water.
"GEORGE!" Patrick yelled his brother's name and he was very nearly taken out by a charging, screaming Kelpie. Patrick rammed his sword up into the kelpies throat and then he swore under his breath before diving into the water, sword and all, after his brother.