if you have to collect my ashes tell my sister i love her
[because baren's money comes from terrible places and he likes to spend it on terrible things.
but he'll do as requested. when he does pull up, there's bag of... something in the passenger's seat. he'll likely tell fawkes to move it once the two of them have to get in the car, but for now that's. There.
and he's skipping up the steps of the cathedral two at a time, making ssszzzzt sizzling noises under his breath even as he heads up to meet him, raising a brow]
I can sorta feel my soul being ripped from my body, you know?
[It's sort of funny, really, the way that he plays along with things like this. It's not as though Fawkes is entertaining any illusions about Baren and his antics, not really — certainly he's a troublemaker at best and a terror at worst, and when the sensible part of him is in command of his decisions, he knows full well that distance isn't just a good idea; it's the best alibi.
But he's not always sensible, and it's not as though there isn't a part of him that really does enjoy this. Being around Baren is strangely liberating in when it comes in small doses; it's fine to be reckless and careless and indulgent in a way that he doesn't often let himself be, simply because there's no one around to tell him he shouldn't.
It reminds him of a summer when he'd been at his worst, and his favorite escape had been — well, something just like this.
There's a very good reason he'd put an end to that escapism when the summer had finally ended and he'd run back to university. But it's not so bad to cut loose every once in a while, he reminds himself. Everything in moderation — including moderation.
Besides, Baren's sense of humor is twisted and funny, and makes it easy to laugh.]
I'm not surprised; there's smoke rising from your cloven hooves and everything.
[He grins, surprisingly enough.]
We'd better hurry before the sprinklers come on and splash you with holy water, or you might melt.
What am I, a witch? [And Baren snorts faintly even as his grin turns a bit sharper, canting his head to the side.] Well... I guess that's not entirely wrong.
[He'll openly admit to being more than a little bit wicked.
Regardless he'll shrug and make a gesture for Fawkes to follow him back down the steps, dropping the sizzling noise in favor of just letting his hair bells do their familiar, almost foreboding ring behind him as he heads down. Though he does look over his shoulder to ask - ]
You don't have a curfew or anything, do you? No clock strikes 12, I have to return Princess Kiterella back or my ride'll turn into a pumpkin?
Guess we'll have to go out again when there's a full moon. Recollé doesn't have a good kitsune myth circulating yet - but I'd like it to.
[japanese folklore is one of baren's favorite things... it's the topic of his doodles and graffiti often, and he wonders if he can trust fawkes enough for that to be one of their detours tonight. he hums thoughtfully and tries to recall any blank canvases (read: open wallspace) he'd seen on his way over
though he does manage a laugh at the second question, a mischievous glint in his eyes]
You really don't know what you're getting into, do you, Foxy? If I have my way, you won't be sleeping a wink tonight.
[This conversation is going to prove hideous and prophetic someday when Youko Kurama breaks free of his flesh prison and proceeds to start turning myths into reality. But for the moment, Fawkes remains blissfully unaware of this narrative meta, which is fine because he's preoccupied anyway with the familiar thrill of idle recklessness as it starts to shift in the pit of his stomach.]
Oh? And do things always happen simply because you want them to happen?
[Said so casually as he slides into the driver's seat of the car. The bag on Fawkes' side is acknowledged with a wave of his hand essentially saying 'stash that wherever'. Then he listens to the hum of the engine and his eyes light up.]
I think making what I want happen out of thin air comes with the package.
[Which is to say. Yes. Yes, he gets his way more than he really should.]
[somewhere slightly closer to flying condom jellyfish bc it's more fun than horrifying - should fawkes open up the bag out of morbid curiosity he'll find:]
Fireworks!!
[and baren's whole expression lights up like he too is a firework
[...WELL let's just take care not to jostle the hell out of these things, then, shall we, lest the car blow up and we start acting out a completely different Katy Perry song than the one we're currently invoking.
He'll just put them carefully down by his feet in the footwell and hopefully not blow his legs off at any point during this adventure.]
Witches come prepared with props handy. Whoever would have guessed.
[and baren just laughs as he lets the car run - he plans on taking them out of the city, at least. if fawkes has ever headed over to the beach, baren's taking that road. definitely above the speed limit. but well. that's just not surprising anymore, is it]
Sometimes you need a little extra oomph for the best magic.
[and he's still grinning because he's... excited for fireworks....]
[All in all, the effect of the gestalt here is powerful: there are fireworks in the car, banter in the air, laughter from the front seat, a world flying by too fast outside the windows. It all adds up to freedom in a way that he can't precisely explain, the thrill of a getaway when he doesn't actually know what he's trying to get away from.
(It feels like running through a forest at full tilt, and he doesn't actually remember the last time he's been in a forest.)
Crazy. Reckless. Stupid.
It's oddly pleasant, really.]
This is the way to the beach, isn't it? We're not staying in the city.
Oh, I see. I'm the trial run — and now your accomplice.
[But there's a hint of a frown on his face and a half-distant look in his eyes that's starting to preoccupy his attention, just a little — and it doesn't seem to be from trepidation about getting caught by The Law.
...At least not in this day and age.]
How often do you find yourself making a grand escape from the law?
[Baren's driving so he doesn't notice the look - and it's a coinflip as to whether or not he would've cared even if he noticed it. Instead, now it's just a trivial hum.]
Couple times a month.
Most of it's minor shit, but cops don't get that they're getting in the way of a good time.
[He brings a hand up toward his face, like he's aiming to pinch the bridge of his nose or scrub at his eyes, but then seems to think better of it halfway and turns the motion into something different, raking his fingers back through his hair like he's trying to keep it from turning into a haphazard mess in the wind from the car.
Baren doesn't want to answer that, so he doesn't. Instead he catches the motion switch out of the corner of his eye and takes that as his topic change.]
[Maybe it's the pet name that does it, ultimately. Maybe it's the right length of time spent watching the world flying by outside the windows. Maybe it's the roar of the engine, the thrill of escape, the kitsune jokes he'd been idly offering up earlier in the conversation. Maybe it's an amalgamation of all of those things. Maybe it's something else entirely.
But whatever it is, it's enough to send a hallucinomemory crashing down over his head — and thankfully this time he's having it in the passenger seat of a car and not while standing on the rooftop ledge of a building, bless us all — and one minute he's got his eyes fixed on the road as it winds out in front of them but the next moment it's all turned to trees and grass and a forest path, and he's not just flying; he's running for his life.
It hurts, everything hurts. He's not running fast enough. And whatever it is that's behind him — it's something terrible, and it's what did this to him, and it's not going to let him get away.
Hunters.
The word flits through his mind with foreboding certainty, and he doesn't know why he knows it, but he's sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that that's what's behind him.
So he runs. He runs until he feels as though his heart will burst, runs as fast as his four legs will carry him, runs with his tails beating the air behind him as he leaps and bounds and —
And snaps suddenly back to reality, and he's in the passenger seat of the car again, feeling like he's just been put through a wringer twice.]
Are they —
[It's a stupid impulse, to want to look behind him. It's the same impulse that makes people want to quicken their pace to a run when they walk alone at night down a lonely corridor, from the mounting apprehension that they might be being followed.
It's a stupid impulse indeed, but it's one he can't restrain, and before he quite knows what he's doing, he's half-turned around in his seat, gray eyes scouring the road behind them like he's looking for a pursuer that wholly isn't there.]
Though despite the easiness in his voice, Baren can take a glimpse at Fawkes from the corner of his eye, and the apprehension just comes with the answer of pressing his foot on the gas pedal all the more. It's not as if anything's actually chasing them, but Baren wonders if giving the illusion of a clean getaway will get the other to calm down.
While at the same time getting them to their destination faster, letting Baren pull into a parking spot with remarkable precision as they finally reach the beach.
Then, he folds himself up so that he can turn sideways in the driver's seat, resting his elbow on his knee and then his chin on his hand, a curious grin playing across his face. It was one of those hallucinations. He knows it. And while he normally doesn't pry into other people's business, this one sounds fun.]
I think you owe me an explanation? I'm all ears, Red.
[It does and it doesn't help, the increased speed. On one hand, it hits the mark perfectly in making it feel as though they're evading whatever it is he's imagining is behind them. On the other, however, the motion in general only adds to that lingering sensation of running, and that's a feeling he could really do without at this point.
But when they stop, he's quick to start trying to collect himself, and he knows he's got a target painted on him for getting hit with a hallucinomemory now of all times, but he's also conscious of the fact that they're far enough from the city that he's basically here at Baren's mercy, and all things considered it might just be easier to play along to some degree than to play obstinate and take whatever consequences might come of it.
I'm all ears, Red. Well, that makes it a little easier to calm down, anyway.]
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But I'm free if you're willing.
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you think i'm some kind of flake?
ouch
give me an address and i'll prove you wrong
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I'll meet you on the steps of the Cathedral of Saint Anthony in forty-five minutes. Will that do?
[As it occurs to him that perhaps it would be better if he didn't actually give out his home address, for a number of reasons.]
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so good call.]
sure
you'll know the car when you see it
[because baren's that kind of asshole]
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[Literally everyone he knows has a fantastic car except him, why is this his life, why are things so rough.]
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[because baren's money comes from terrible places and he likes to spend it on terrible things.
but he'll do as requested. when he does pull up, there's bag of... something in the passenger's seat. he'll likely tell fawkes to move it once the two of them have to get in the car, but for now that's. There.
and he's skipping up the steps of the cathedral two at a time, making ssszzzzt sizzling noises under his breath even as he heads up to meet him, raising a brow]
I can sorta feel my soul being ripped from my body, you know?
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But he's not always sensible, and it's not as though there isn't a part of him that really does enjoy this. Being around Baren is strangely liberating in when it comes in small doses; it's fine to be reckless and careless and indulgent in a way that he doesn't often let himself be, simply because there's no one around to tell him he shouldn't.
It reminds him of a summer when he'd been at his worst, and his favorite escape had been — well, something just like this.
There's a very good reason he'd put an end to that escapism when the summer had finally ended and he'd run back to university. But it's not so bad to cut loose every once in a while, he reminds himself. Everything in moderation — including moderation.
Besides, Baren's sense of humor is twisted and funny, and makes it easy to laugh.]
I'm not surprised; there's smoke rising from your cloven hooves and everything.
[He grins, surprisingly enough.]
We'd better hurry before the sprinklers come on and splash you with holy water, or you might melt.
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[He'll openly admit to being more than a little bit wicked.
Regardless he'll shrug and make a gesture for Fawkes to follow him back down the steps, dropping the sizzling noise in favor of just letting his hair bells do their familiar, almost foreboding ring behind him as he heads down. Though he does look over his shoulder to ask - ]
You don't have a curfew or anything, do you? No clock strikes 12, I have to return Princess Kiterella back or my ride'll turn into a pumpkin?
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[He falls into step easily beside Baren, mildly surprised by the jingling as he temporarily widens his stride to catch up and keep pace.]
Why, are you scheming to keep me out past my bedtime?
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[japanese folklore is one of baren's favorite things... it's the topic of his doodles and graffiti often, and he wonders if he can trust fawkes enough for that to be one of their detours tonight. he hums thoughtfully and tries to recall any blank canvases (read: open wallspace) he'd seen on his way over
though he does manage a laugh at the second question, a mischievous glint in his eyes]
You really don't know what you're getting into, do you, Foxy? If I have my way, you won't be sleeping a wink tonight.
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Oh? And do things always happen simply because you want them to happen?
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[Said so casually as he slides into the driver's seat of the car. The bag on Fawkes' side is acknowledged with a wave of his hand essentially saying 'stash that wherever'. Then he listens to the hum of the engine and his eyes light up.]
I think making what I want happen out of thin air comes with the package.
[Which is to say. Yes. Yes, he gets his way more than he really should.]
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on a scale of human remains to flying condom jellyfish blimp i guess]
Then I'm glad I've decided to stay on your good side. What's all this?
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Fireworks!!
[and baren's whole expression lights up like he too is a firework
he's definitely like 5]
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He'll just put them carefully down by his feet in the footwell and hopefully not blow his legs off at any point during this adventure.]
Witches come prepared with props handy. Whoever would have guessed.
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Sometimes you need a little extra oomph for the best magic.
[and he's still grinning because he's... excited for fireworks....]
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(It feels like running through a forest at full tilt, and he doesn't actually remember the last time he's been in a forest.)
Crazy. Reckless. Stupid.
It's oddly pleasant, really.]
This is the way to the beach, isn't it? We're not staying in the city.
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It's a weekday, Fawkes. [Friday night, actually.] Can you imagine how many car alarms I'd set off? How quick the police would be after me?
[ . . . . and he laughs, loudly, completely breaking his already paper thin facade.]
Nah, that's next week. I haven't tested these out before so it's time to see how bad that bang is!
well well it's regain o'clock
[But there's a hint of a frown on his face and a half-distant look in his eyes that's starting to preoccupy his attention, just a little — and it doesn't seem to be from trepidation about getting caught by The Law.
...At least not in this day and age.]
How often do you find yourself making a grand escape from the law?
smooth criminal.mp3
Couple times a month.
Most of it's minor shit, but cops don't get that they're getting in the way of a good time.
foxy are you okay are you okay are you okay foxy
[He brings a hand up toward his face, like he's aiming to pinch the bridge of his nose or scrub at his eyes, but then seems to think better of it halfway and turns the motion into something different, raking his fingers back through his hair like he's trying to keep it from turning into a haphazard mess in the wind from the car.
A smooth save, really.]
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Baren doesn't want to answer that, so he doesn't. Instead he catches the motion switch out of the corner of his eye and takes that as his topic change.]
You doing alright there, Kitty Kat?
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But whatever it is, it's enough to send a hallucinomemory crashing down over his head — and thankfully this time he's having it in the passenger seat of a car and not while standing on the rooftop ledge of a building, bless us all — and one minute he's got his eyes fixed on the road as it winds out in front of them but the next moment it's all turned to trees and grass and a forest path, and he's not just flying; he's running for his life.
It hurts, everything hurts. He's not running fast enough. And whatever it is that's behind him — it's something terrible, and it's what did this to him, and it's not going to let him get away.
Hunters.
The word flits through his mind with foreboding certainty, and he doesn't know why he knows it, but he's sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that that's what's behind him.
So he runs. He runs until he feels as though his heart will burst, runs as fast as his four legs will carry him, runs with his tails beating the air behind him as he leaps and bounds and —
And snaps suddenly back to reality, and he's in the passenger seat of the car again, feeling like he's just been put through a wringer twice.]
Are they —
[It's a stupid impulse, to want to look behind him. It's the same impulse that makes people want to quicken their pace to a run when they walk alone at night down a lonely corridor, from the mounting apprehension that they might be being followed.
It's a stupid impulse indeed, but it's one he can't restrain, and before he quite knows what he's doing, he's half-turned around in his seat, gray eyes scouring the road behind them like he's looking for a pursuer that wholly isn't there.]
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[Said casually, with a pop on the P.
Though despite the easiness in his voice, Baren can take a glimpse at Fawkes from the corner of his eye, and the apprehension just comes with the answer of pressing his foot on the gas pedal all the more. It's not as if anything's actually chasing them, but Baren wonders if giving the illusion of a clean getaway will get the other to calm down.
While at the same time getting them to their destination faster, letting Baren pull into a parking spot with remarkable precision as they finally reach the beach.
Then, he folds himself up so that he can turn sideways in the driver's seat, resting his elbow on his knee and then his chin on his hand, a curious grin playing across his face. It was one of those hallucinations. He knows it. And while he normally doesn't pry into other people's business, this one sounds fun.]
I think you owe me an explanation? I'm all ears, Red.
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But when they stop, he's quick to start trying to collect himself, and he knows he's got a target painted on him for getting hit with a hallucinomemory now of all times, but he's also conscious of the fact that they're far enough from the city that he's basically here at Baren's mercy, and all things considered it might just be easier to play along to some degree than to play obstinate and take whatever consequences might come of it.
I'm all ears, Red. Well, that makes it a little easier to calm down, anyway.]
An explanation? What exactly do you want to hear?
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