Tasslehoff Burrfoot is not a thief (tas_wanderlust) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-17 13:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, killian jones (captain hook), tasslehoff burrfoot |
Who: Tas and Killian
What: Exchanging maps and stories.
When: This past weekend, before Killian left for Ireland
Where: Killian's houseboat
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Complete
Tas couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been with his dreams. Other than the one unfortunate dream when he had spent the entire time tied up to a chair, they’d been nothing but adventure. But what was more than that, Tas was even more excited about the things that his dreams gave him. He’d got his hoopak staff, which was a little too short for him but he didn’t mind too much, his dagger named Rabbitslayer that always seemed to be at his hip even when he didn’t remember putting it on in the morning, his lockpicking set that his dream father had given him before he’d left on his wanderlust, and even a whole bunch of hair that he was now wearing in a long topknot that fell almost to the small of his back.
He’d been even more excited to wake up this particular morning to see his mapcase lying on his dresser. He’d immediately jumped up, and was pleased to see that all his maps of Krynn were still inside of it. He spent a couple of hours going through them all, admiring them all and thinking of all the memories he had so far of exploring his dream world.
Killian had to see these. Satisfying himself with looking at his maps, he laid one particularly well made map of the continent of Ansalon aside, folding it carefully, almost lovingly, into a separate bag, put the rest of his maps back in the map case, and then took off to Killian’s boat. He wondered if Killian would be surprised to see him, and couldn’t help but picture Killian’s reaction to Tas’ hair. No doubt it would be filled with exclamations of surprise and thinly veiled envy as he realized that he too wished he could have a wonderful topknot like Tas’.
Hard to miss that hair on arrival, not to mention Killian didn’t get a tonne of visitors this time of day anyway. But he was privy to Tas’ arrival, considering the pirate was working at his desk in the living room, which was facing the wide windows - currently open, to let in a fresh breeze as he knitted one, purled two (and such) with the loom, toiling over a baby blanket for the Swan-Cassidy spawn; he’d promised, so he’d deliver. It wasn’t taking very long and he enjoyed the activity - surprisingly, once he’d gotten situated with the pattern and the colours of yarn he wanted, it was relaxing.
But once he saw a certain kender coming his way, he went out to meet him before he could try to pick the lock into the houseboat or something - Killian really wouldn’t put it past him. “Oy, mate, what are you up to?” He asked as he threw open the front door, stepping out onto the porch. “...I’m probably hallucinating. But you didn’t have as much hair last time, did you?”
How shiny and luxurious. Killian was certain he’d remember such glorious, flowing locks.
Tas had been looking forward to giving his lockpicking set a try on Killian’s house boat, just to surprise his friend with his new dream skill (even if he wasn’t quite as adept at it in real life as he was there yet), but he wasn’t disappointed at all when he saw Killian outside. He smiled and waved his hand excitedly over his head in greeting. Then he ran the rest of the way to his friend. “Hi Killian!” Tas said cheerfully. “I came to visit! I hope you weren’t too busy,” not that that would have made any difference at all to the young man. His smile widened when Killian brought up his hair, and Tas pulled his topknot across his shoulders so that Killian could better see it. “You noticed! I didn’t have as much hair! It came from the dreams. Isn’t it great?”
“First time I’ve ever heard of someone receiving something like that,” the pirate snorted a laugh - how adorable, the bloody dreams took his hand away but someone else got hair. Will your wonders ever cease, Orange County? Though by now he supposed that nothing was impossible. Anything from the Holy Grail to moldy cheese could literally show up here, traveling across realms.
He waved Tas inside with his good hand, his prosthetic fitted securely where the left one used to be - by now, he was used to the device and was actually pretty good at using it, gripping with precision. “It suits you though. But you and your hair can come in - I’m not terribly busy, no. Just working on a knitting project.” Which likely sounded bizarre coming from the likes of him, but alas.
Once the fellow was in, he shut the door. “Can I get you anything?”
“Really? The first? Do you think I’m the only person in Orange County who’s gotten something so wonderful?” How exciting would it be! Maybe he could start a trend, and then everyone would have topknots they could be proud of.
“You knit?” he asked, obviously surprised about that piece of information. “The only other person I know who knits is Grandma Burrfoot.” And, he realized with a bit of a pang in his heart, Alyssa had knitted too. He shook it off, and opened his mouth to ask Killian for a beer. Then he remembered that Killian had been trying to stop drinking. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he said cheerfully. “What are you knitting?”
If Killian had to put money on it, he’d wager that Tas really was the first to receive exquisite hair extensions that most would pay good money for, because they desired a bountiful weave. “Probably? You’re just lucky, I suppose. Your dreams haven’t even been too awful, have they?” he asked. Well, in comparison to being maimed, waking up losing a pint of blood somehow, or dying right there in bed. Which was an awful scale to go by.
He decided to head into the kitchen to make tea; it seemed to be a safe choice. So he put the kettle on, continuing to talk as he did since the small space for cooking (still with white Christmas lights hanging up, for decor purposes) faced into his living room. “Oh, right, I’m knitting a baby blanket for Neal and Emma’s sprog - she asked me to be his godfather, so I thought I’d contribute something useful.” Rather than baby bottles with the Jim Beam whiskey logo on them, or something.
“Oh no, my dreams have been wonderful,” Tas said happily, following Killian into the kitchen. “Except when Fizban died, I guess. But even that was really exciting! We were running away from a dragon who was breathing fire from us, and then we started to climb down this chain to get away from it, but the dragon burned through the chain and we were all falling to our deaths which was really quite exciting - I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to fall to your death and it did not disappoint - and then Fizban tried to cast a spell but he… he hit the ground before he could finish it, but then Setsun - he’s a gully dwarf - Setsun and I ended up falling onto a mountain of chicken feathers that Fizban had managed to conjure up before he died.” He’d been pretty sad that Fizban had died, but not really sad. For some reason, he just didn’t feel like he’d never see Fizban again.
He let out a gasp of excitement when he found out what Killian was knitting. “Really?” He asked. “I’m building furniture for them! A rocking chair and a bassinet and they’re going to be absolutely wonderful! I think I’m going to carve some great animals into them so they match the baby’s room! Have you seen the plans for it yet? It sure looks like it’s going to be a really fun room to be a baby in! It sounds exciting though, being a godfather! What exactly does a godfather do? Other than knit blankets?”
Chicken feathers. The look on Killian’s face must have been comical - that black eyebrow of his arched way up (he was adept at lifting only the one; must be a prerequisite for villainous plotting). “I’ve never fallen to my death but I’ve cheated it many others ways - though I’m pleased to know that the rush of the ground nearing, before you go splat, is quite invigorating,” he nodded as he bustled about, opening the cabinets to procure the tea - he had a whole different variety, actually. Green tea, red teas, English breakfast. Perhaps he’d been drinking it more than he realised - gods, he was easing into being a British nanny for certain now, wasn’t he.
“Apparently being a godfather means that I’m to look after the child if anything happens to his parents. Which...here, I suppose it’s practical to have that extra insurance policy so to speak.” The skies could literally split open and rain something weird again - like something that would really do them in this time, in which case (should anything actually happen to Neal or Emma) he and Regina would grab the mini-Cassidy and run.
Killian wouldn’t let anything happen to that tiny person. He was already resolute about it.
“That’s good to know that you’re building furniture. Must be truth to that saying, it takes a village to raise a child? Or some such?”
Tas couldn’t help but let out a bit of a giggle the expression Killian made. “Nothing makes you feel alive like cheating death!” Tas said cheerfully, paraphrasing something that Luisa had told him. “Do you escape death a bunch in your dreams too? Those are always the best ones! I wake up feeling like I can do anything!”
His stomach sank a little when he heard that a Godfather was there in case something happened to the child’s parents. It was a strange feeling, and while it was interesting, Tas didn’t really like it much. He squirmed a little, and was glad when Killian moved on to the furniture making. “It is true!” Tas said, all smiles once again. “At least, where I’m from it is! Back home everyone takes care of everyone else! We’re not really a family, but it’s like the whole village kind of is a family! It’s really quite nice. Not like here where everyone just kind of minds their own business. Not that this isn’t okay too sometimes, but I like it a lot better when everyone helps one another out.”
“Many times, I’ve escaped death. I’ve a certain skill for surviving,” the Captain explained. It was true, he did - he probably should have perished by now, not only because he was technically hundreds of years old but because the circumstances he found himself in were just so extraordinarily dangerous. The things we did while chasing vengeance or, say, the woman you were in love with - felt like he’d followed Swan to the ends of the world and back by now. “But alright, here...”
The kettle whistled and he took it off the stove, pouring them both tea and letting it steep. Tas seemed like he enjoyed something sweet in his tea or coffee, so Killian got out the honey along with the cream and a lemon he could slice into. “Tell me more about your village, then? Did people make furniture for each other there too?”
His kender friend had such a unique perspective on things - it was interesting that, beyond all the childlike innocence, the fluff, and the tall tales, a lot of what he said seemed to make sense. How he managed that, this pirate didn’t know. A mystery.
Tas added a generous amount of honey and cream to his tea before he blew on it and took a sip. “Mr. Wood did!” Tas said cheerfully. “He made all sorts of furniture for us. The Farm was really great though. We made most of our own food, and mom was the best cook there. There'd be riots in the streets whenever she made her meat pies! And no one ever locked their doors, you could just go in and visit someone whenever you liked. And we all shared everything and no one called you a… a thief.” He was still a little bothered by his run-in with the girl and her ribbon. He realized with a pang that he actually was a little homesick. “And my Uncle Trapspringer used to gather all us kids up when he'd come home from adventures and tell us all the exciting things he'd seen!”
Killian led the way back into the living room, so they could sit with those hot mugs of tea and leisurely enjoy the cuppa, by the open window while the gentle, salted breeze brushed by - he really couldn’t imagine living anywhere but near the ocean, the more he considered it. The sea was in his blood, it always had been.
“Probably was healthy and all that, right? Making most of your own food? It’s sort of worrying, children eating so much processed shite,” he observed, sipping on his English breakfast. “The time period I dream of, I think baby food is just regular food, but mushy.” All those chemicals and additives weren’t a thing in the medieval era.
Then he noticed the additions Tas brought with him - the map case and such. “What’s that? You brought me a present?”
“Mostly!” Tas said. “Sometimes we’d drive into the city to get a bunch of junk food and other supplies, but mostly we just tried to do what we could with what we had. Weren’t you growing a garden on your boat too?”
At Killian’s question, Tas looked down at his map case like he hadn’t known it was there, and then he remembered. “Oh yeah!” Tas said cheerfully, pulling his bag onto his lap so he could start unpacking all the maps in there. “I got my map collection from my dreams, and I thought ‘you know who would like these almost as much as I would? Killian!’ So I packed them all up and brought them here so we could look through them! There’s all sorts of them in here. There’s ones from before the Catacalysm, which means they’re over three-hundred years old, and there’s ones from after the Catacalysm, and a bunch of different countries and cities and even some of the ones I drew!” Half way through unpacking the many, many maps, he stopped to grab the one that he’d set aside, and offered the tube he’d rolled it into to Killian. “Oh! And I brought you this one! It’s for you! It’s the whole continent of Ansalon, and I thought maybe you could hang it up somewhere!”
Right, the garden. About that...”I was cultivating my own veg and herbs, topside, however the blood rain sort of destroyed those efforts,” he sighed. “I’ll be building it back up again. But anyway.” Killian would much rather hear about the maps, and see the ones that Tas had brought with him.
He leaned in, setting his mug down on the end table for a moment, to get a better look. “Oh, these are grand,” because of course the would-be cartographer held such a keen, profound interest in having bits and pieces of ‘home’ like that. “This one’s really for me?”
The map of Ansalon was unrolled, and he studied it with a gleam in electric blue eyes - how curious indeed. Dragon’s Graveyard? Mount Nevermind? So many odd-sounding places; it was quite a large continent, actually. “I’d love to hang it up in here, thank you,” he was pleased, sincere in his gratitude because he hadn’t been expecting such a gift. “The Enchanted Forest isn’t as large, but I did draw a map of it. You can have what I drew, if you’d like?” Kind of like an art exchange, in a way.
“Oh no,” Tas gasped. “The blood rain ruined a pair of my favourite pants, but I didn’t even think about the fact that it might ruin people’s vegetable gardens. That’s so sad! I hope you can get it up and going again soon!”
Tas beamed, glad that Killian had liked his gift. “I would love a map of the Enchanted Forest! I can hang it up in my room! Did you draw it in your dreams, or when you woke up? Not that it matters either way, since no matter what, it’ll be great! What’s it like in the Enchanted Forest? Are there lots of ghosts and goblins and giant insects that jump out of nowhere at you?”
“When I woke up,” Killian chuckled roughly, getting up and shuffling to his old, maritime desk - the perfect Captain’s desk, really, meant for cramped quarters in a ship’s stern. One of the drawers was opened and he procured the map, giving it to Tas to look over. “Most of it is pretty straightforward,” he said. Various kingdoms, Agrabah, the Forbidden Mountains where the Dark One resided in his castle, right at the foot of them. “Glinda’s Pocket Dimension is where the witch herself lived - there was a doorway you could pass through only if you were pure of heart.”
Which meant he wasn’t going there anytime soon. Tas could probably get through, however. Killian imagined that his heart held nary a trace of inky black, representing evil deeds.
“Not too many ghosts or goblins, but...chimera? Ogres, trolls, dwarfs, fairies - all sorts of creatures. It’s quite a magical place, literally.”
Tas quickly looked at the map, taking in all the wonderful names of the places. “Troll Bridge? Dark Palace? Werewolves Den?! You have real werewolves in your dreams? Do you think they just sit in there, waiting to rip someone’s face off? How wonderful. I’ve never been bitten by a werewolf before. I bet it would be really interesting. Your dream world looks great!” Even just looking at the name ‘Forbidden Mountains’ made Tas long to climb to its peak. “Do you know where Glinda’s door went to? Do you think it would lead to a place with a bunch of flying monkeys and oompa loompas? I bet it would!”
Tas really would think faces being ripped off by werewolves was wonderful, wouldn’t he? Odd duck that he was. “I imagine it’s less interesting and more, ‘oh, fuck, I’ve been cursed’ but I only know one werewolf, actually,” Killian rubbed his scruffy jaw with his good hand, thinking. Red Riding Hood, commonly known as Ruby, commonly known as the Big Bad Wolf - but she likely had a whole pack out there who were probably more into the face-ripping aspects than she was.
“The flying monkeys are in Oz, mostly, not certain about the Oompa Loompas...or did you mean Munchkins?” he grinned. “At any rate, I think Glinda’s dimension is just where she’s been banished to. It’s very cold, from what I hear. Very snowy. Apparently Snow White and Prince Charming needed her advice about something, so they traveled through the door - “
And Regina hadn’t been able to, because her heart was too weighed down by vengeance. Figures.
“Glinda told them that the Wicked Witch could only be defeated by light magic, so then a curse was cast to hop realms and it’s all very complicated and ridiculous.” He didn’t even want to contemplate where his dreams were currently at.
“I’ve never been cursed, either!” Tas said. “At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t dreamed of being cursed yet, at least.” His tone of voice implied that, rather than it being a bad thing, being cursed was one of the most exciting things that could happen to him. “That’s more werewolves than I know. Well, mostly! I met one in the Rocky Mountains before! But he was mostly just trying to eat me and we didn’t have much time to chat and get to know one another.”
“Yeah, Munchkins! That’s it! Why was Glinda banished? Was it because she dropped a house on someone? I bet it was. You can’t just go around throwing houses at people, it’s really very rude. Especially when you go around calling yourself a good witch. And of course she called the girl who she crushed a wicked witch. Wouldn’t you, if you had just killed someone with a house? Not that I’m sure she isn’t a very nice person! She sure seems nice, and really pretty, and the oompa - er, munchkins - all seem to like her a lot.”
He actually didn’t know a tonne about Glinda, but as for the Wicked Witch? Killian sort of gave an involuntary shudder, even just thinking of Zelena. She was bad news - the date rape of Robin Hood and subsequent pregnancy that she rubbed in Regina’s face were rather awful, but she was guilty of a whole litany of crimes.
Having her for a potential sister-in-law, in this world, was enough to get him dry heaving. Perhaps best if he and Regina truly did leave well enough alone, when it came to the long-lost sibling across the states.
“I’m not quite sure why she was banished,” he admitted. “But I assure you that the Wicked Witch is not someone you’d want to get to know. She’s very powerful, and very angry - which is, of course, a lethal combination.” Though he supposed being left in a basket in the woods when you were a day old, thrown away by Cora the worst mum ever like you were a piece of rubbish, would be enough to ensure those ‘issues’ remained deeply rooted.
But anyway. “We’ve got a whole load of wacky characters in my dreamspace. I’ll tell you about them all sometime, if you’d want to hear.”
All the people Tas most enjoyed meeting were those that people told him that he shouldn’t meet. Not that he particularly liked spending a lot of time with angry people who did nothing but yell and complain all day - it got really exhausting after a while - but angry, powerful, lethal witches sounded like Christmas come early to Tas. He fought down his excitement at the idea. “I would love to hear all about them!” Tas said, settling in as he assumed Killian would no doubt be telling him all about everything right now (for when else was ‘sometime’ other than ‘this time right now’). “And I can tell you about all the wacky people in mine, too! Like Fizban the Fabulous!”
Maps and storytelling, it was pretty much Tas’ perfect afternoon.