Who: Simon Torquill and Maximus (+Simon's NPC daughter for. A bit) What: For Be Careful What You Wish For/The Mystic plot. Simon's wish comes back to bite him in the worst way possible Where: Degula III marketplace When: forward dated to August 14 Rating/Content warnings: Pending (will be definite NPC death with some amount of blood)
It was his fault. Simon had dared to believe that even with the rot in his magic and soul, he could yet be the man who had been nothing but Amandine's husband and August's father. Even knowing that he had never been worthy of either of them even before the cider in his magic had turned sour, he had thought that perhaps with more than the few hours that had usually been all he and August could share alone before Amy swept into the room they could start building towards something like happiness together.
He should have known better. All his life, even before he'd knelt at Evening Winterrose's feet to beg for Patrick's happiness, he'd never been able to keep the people he loved. His parents and sister lost to the night-haunts, Amy's door closed to him, and Patrick gone to the sea with his own heart's anchor. It was the height of arrogance to think that his perfect August would decide to stay at his side, when his love and pleading hadn't been enough to keep her heroic soul from running where his cowardice could not let him follow once before.
They were wandering the markets, as they had been spending much time doing since their reunion. He with eyes half searching for alchemical supplies, and August…he wasn't sure, really. She'd told him so little of their time apart, but he'd managed to glean that she'd spent much of it completely alone. And while she had never had the chance to be especially social thanks to Amy and his own inability to refuse Amy's will, August had at least had them and the idea of his girl entirely alone in the world hurt more than anything his keepers had done to him. So he supposed she just wanted people, even if none of them had magic for her to scent and try to understand. And there was no way he could deny her anything, so long as she stayed-
"Papa?" she said, so quiet no one else might hear, taking his attention from what he thought were probably spices of a sort. The studious crease between his brows smoothed immediately as he turned to her with a bright smile.
"Yes, poppet?"
"I…I think I need to stay here. On this…planet."
Simon felt his heart hammering against a ribcage that suddenly felt far too small, and it was only decades of hiding his anxiety from Oleander that kept him smiling. "But…sweetheart, think of all the things you could see--"
"I think Oberon has been here, Papa! I can feel it. Like how I could feel your magic in Uncle Sylvester's halls even when we hadn't been there for ages. I have to follow it. I have to And I can't do that from that--that--" she gestured vaguely. "That thing with all its metal. You have to understand that."
Of course he did. That didn't mean, however, that he had to agree with it. Or allow it. He grabbed her hands perhaps a bit too tightly, and any other moment he would have been horrified by being so rough with his child, but not when she was trying to leave him again. Because while he would have happily stayed with her in this place while she finished her quest, there was still the matter of Amy, and he hadn't the faintest idea how he'd get the two of them back to the Summerlands from this place without assistance of those who understood all these odd vessels so much better. "August, please. You need to stay with me, so I can take you home--"
Her own pale yellow eyes went wide with horror, constricting his already straining heart even more. "You're just as bad as Mother. You won't be happy unless you can put me in a cage!" she ripped her hands free and started off at a run into the crowds. He was losing her again. The taste of rotten oranges flooded his mouth as he followed, not caring how it might look for a man in a tattered suit to be running after a girl in a thin cotton dress.
"August, please, we can talk about this," he called over the din of the market. But even as he said it Simon found himself filling the air around him with smoke and rot, pulling magic into his hands ready to throw it at his own child to hold her in place once he got close enough, a thought which normally would have horrified him but right now--
Right now there was some kind of vehicle heading straight into the path August was running heedless of danger, probably full of goods to take to the market. She's her mother's daughter, he tried to tell his heart which was beating so hard he could hear nothing else. No mortal transport could strike her hard enough to send her to the night-haunts-
That did absolutely nothing to keep him from freezing when he heard the crash, both feet and breath stopping entirely as strangers gasped and yelled and ran around him towards a sight he knew he wouldn't be strong enough to see. It only took a few moments for most of the crowd to rush off to help or gawk, leaving him alone and quietly shaking as the rotten oranges of his magic were already mingling on his tongue with the normally sweet smoke and roses that perfumed August's own magic and what he knew too well to be more blood than one would need to fuel a dozen spells. If he didn't see it, he could remain in denial and he was so very good at denial. But it couldn't keep him from tasting his girl's blood and the magic that ran through it coming too close to his own poison, a distraction that kept him from hearing or seeing anyone who might be coming up behind to see what all the commotion was about.