OPEN POST; [ ERIK / DQ11]

[rubblerouser]

say “what’s your style and who do you listen to?” who cares.

Comments

[cheir]

Oh--

[ It's soft and chagrined, too quiet to be really annoyed by this change in situation, but to anyone walking this quaint dirt path looking for a mark or just... walking along for the sake of a stroll, there's a young woman in a wheelchair struggling to both get her chair over a deep impression in the path and to pick up a briefcase that had toppled off her lap at the unexpected bump in the road.

What would one do, coming across her? ]

[rubblerouser]

[An easy mark’s an easy mark, quick pocket change if nothing else — but then there are girls like her, the sort that you’d feel pretty scummy taking advantage of, and Erik isn’t that kind of thief.

He is the kind of young man who’ll stop and frown at the sight, though, for a whole three seconds before letting it go lopsided on his face. A few seconds more and he’s walking in her direction, casual as can be; though he has a sheathed dagger swinging at his hip with each step, there’s nothing particularly threatening about his approach. His words are a careful kind of exasperated, edging on concern if you listen hard enough.]

Dropped something? [-he asks, not really needing to ask, made obvious by the way he’s bending down to swoop up the briefcase by its handle. Straightening, he holds it out, dangling mid-air. Erik then gives it a lazy shake.]

Hope there wasn’t anything too fragile inside.

[cheir]

[ Being raised as a magus means Fiore has to listen hard enough to everything, to register a thing as important when it might not seem as such. It's why she picks up that thread of consideration, and why she doesn't tense as much as she wants to when he swoops up the briefcase and shakes it experimentally.

What's inside isn't fragile, no. But certainly valuable. ]

The case itself is durable, but it's still not something I wanted to fling carelessly. Thank you for picking it up.

[rubblerouser]

Sure. [One hand moves to his hip, the other still holds onto the briefcase, though he allows his arm to drop back down to his side.

Erik considers her for a second again, trying to decide if she’s going to need help getting past that dip in the path, too — the storms from last season had taken their toll, and now that the sun’s bright and shining in the sky, the land shows the consequences of it, all along the earth. Makes travel tricky in some areas, even for those used to booking it back and forth between point A and B.

So, while he considers that—]

What’s in it?

[The briefcase, like it’s any of his business. But curiosity is a thing.]

[cheir]

A weapon to devastate all those who would seek to harm me.

[ With the sweetest and most polite smile as she folds her hands in her lap. ]

Was there anything else I could help you with?

[rubblerouser]

[Uh.

The contrast between her words and demeanor make Erik wonder if he heard her wrong, but— No, she definitely said that in this briefcase is some great and terrible weapon... or something.

And now she’s asking if there’s anything that she can help him with, like he’s suddenly the one on the spot— hold on a second, here.]

Wait, what?

[Is she messing with him?]

I’m just asking questions, that’s all. What kind of powerful weapon like that is kept in a place like— [He holds up the briefcase once more, glancing down at it in his hands.] —this? Honestly.

[cheir]

[ Again, that smile.

Maybe she's messing with him, a little. But it also isn't a lie. ]

It would take a little too long to explain to someone I've only just made the acquaintance of. May I have my briefcase back, please?

[rubblerouser]

[He arches a brow, the hand at his hip tapping a finger for a beat or two.]

Do I get an explanation if I hand it back? Can’t tease information like that and not follow through, you know. It’s rude.

[That, or he just wants to know. Curiosity and all that.]

[cheir]

Perhaps, if you tell me why you're so interested. But you wouldn't be able to open it, anyway.

[ Rather calmly. ]

[rubblerouser]

What, do you think I’m going to steal it or something?

[Haa...]

I like learning about one-of-a-kind objects, that’s all. Anyone would be curious, especially after a claim like that.

[cheir]

Mm... I see.

Well, I can tell you about it, I suppose. If you're truly that interested.

[rubblerouser]

Works for me.

[Simple as that, Erik offers the briefcase back. With his other hand, he gestures at that cumbersome dip in the path.]

You need, uh, help with that too?

[rubblerouser]

[It’s an ancient stone temple, worn and run-down by the passage of time, corridors vast but relatively empty. It makes him feel small, much like all these old and hallowed structures often do, so it’s all the more liberating to know he can quit this place as soon as he finds the treasure nestled within. The leather sheath of his dagger lightly bumps his hip with each step, and Erik is acutely aware of its presence, not knowing what could be waiting around any given corner.

So far so good, though. No scuffling of monsters, no rival thieves or nosy adventurers threatening to get in his way — not yet, at least. According to the local rumors, this temple of the ancient past was sprawling and many-roomed (and cursed), and Erik doesn’t doubt that’ll mean trouble one way or another. Either he stumbles across it first, or it comes looking for him.

A few winding corridors later, a few dusty rooms, and he thinks he might have found it.

Trouble, that is. He hears the echoing footsteps of someone else, and just ahead, the shape of a young girl comes into view, unfamiliar to him. Well— what to do? If she’s competition, then there’s no point in sneaking about; she’s probably heard his own muffled footsteps encroaching, so he calls out—]

...You lost or something?

[rumourn]

Lost...? What a strange question. Am I not meant to be here?

[ Is this just a strange place for a young woman to find herself? Or does he think she's not welcome? Yachiyo lowers her spear; he's human and male, which cancels him out as a Magical Girl immediately. He's not someone she needs to view as an enemy.

Hopefully. ]

[rubblerouser]

[Erik is definitely the furthest thing from “magical girl” you can shake a stick at.

Wry, sarcastic, with only a baseline amount of magic at his fingertips; no, Erik relies on guile and the edge of his knives to get him through life. Sticky fingers, too. If this girl is competition, he needs to know, else his score might go disappearing out from beneath his nose if he’s not quick about it.]

Not like many people spend time in old, dusty temples. Wanted to know if you’re a tourist or something, lost on the way in. I can get you to the exit if you want.

[rumourn]

I'm not a native, if that's what you're asking. But I was looking into the nature of this temple.

[ More specifically, the rumors surrounding it. But she's not going into detail. ]

[rubblerouser]

The nature of it. And what about the nature of it?

[He moves close enough to encourage actual conversation without having to raise his voice. The echo in this place is too creepy for his liking, but he doesn't let it show. Erik places his hands on his hips.]

Wouldn't have something to do with treasure, would it?

[rumourn]

Ah, you mean the Curse of the Thrice-Gifted Crown?

[ Well. Does that answer his question? Yachiyo also speaks softly, seemingly comfortable enough with that. ]

[rubblerouser]

Exactly that.

[He frowns, though. Way to paint it in a spooky light. Erik just wanted to make a few (or more) handfuls of coin; he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of a curse or an object associated with one.

He’s had his fill of that in the past, a thought that has something twisting in his gut. He pushes it aside.]

You here to find it?

[rumourn]

Yes. I don't have any interest in removing it, but I do want to confirm this rumor for myself.

[ And if she's legit, she can't leave the damn thing alone. ]

[rubblerouser]

Confirm that the curse is real? Come on.

[Like, come on... don't give it validation by saying it out loud, he really does not want to deal with "Curse of the Thrice-Gifted Crown".

He makes a flappy-hand gesture at their surroundings, his hand still on his hip.]

That just sounds like you're looking for trouble. You mean you're not hoping to come away from all this with your pockets fuller than before?

[rumourn]

Unlike you, you mean? No, I don't have an interest in that sort of thing. If you don't believe me, anything I find is something you're more than welcome to.

[ Yachiyo? Yachiyo is here for the inevitable fight of whatever this curse involves. ]

[rubblerouser]

[Ha. Called out.]

Yeah, that's right. Unlike me. But if you don't have a problem with it, neither do I.

[He forces a shrug into his shoulders.]

But, uh-- what kind of curse are we talking about here, anyway?

[You know. Asking for a friend.]

[rubblerouser]

[Sometimes, for a thief, it’s safer to sleep outside of the castle city walls. A tall, curving hill that overlooks a patch of cool lake water below, with a perfectly placed tree to nap under, is sometimes better than a warm bed in an inn where someone might recognize your face.

It’s what he tells himself, anyway, before he drifts off to sleep.

He dreams about his sister, Mia; the day-to-day mundane things, running jobs for the vikings, getting yelled at by the vikings, getting yelled at by Mia. He dreams about her scolding laugh and the look on her face as her whole body was engulfed by that damnable golden magic. Her expression frozen into place for posterity, as though there was a chance he’d ever forget that moment.

It’s nothing new. Erik awakens from these dreams the same as always, somehow always a little more tired than the day before, always ready to shake it all off in the early dawn and set out to make another living with a pair of sticky fingers. But when the sun creeps up over the water this morning, something feels different. Off, like the world is at an invisible tilt that he can’t quite explain, but he can feel as prominently as anything. Lights flicker strangely in the horizon’s distance, as though warped into kaleidoscopic fragments, and Erik sits up a little straighter, rubbing at his eyes.]

What the hell’s going on?

[rumourn]

[ It's a valid question. The lights in the distance are twisting and dancing together at unnatural angles, unlike the gentle melding of hues in a twilight sky. Little puffs of what look to be dandelion fluff float by him, though if he listens closely, he can hear the puffs giggling gleefully in a maniacal sort of way.

Also, in the distance, the sound of an explosion.

Does he investigate? ]