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Date Posted: 13:40:39 11/08/01 Thu
Author: Rowan and Tristan
Subject: What's going on?
In reply to: Kazabet and co. 's message, "The Queen returns" on 10:11:33 11/08/01 Thu

Rowan was a little disappointed when Tia only smiled at him before returning her attentions to Corum, but he hid the feeling behind another gulp of whiskey. He had absolutely no reason to get drunk tonight, though, so he’d better lay off the stuff before it was too late. Besides, he had a feeling that if he did get drunk tonight, he’d only be depressed instead of his usual fun-loving self. Oh yeah, and he had that queen returning tonight with her open invitation… His shoulders slumped and he took another long swallow from the bottle, turning away from Tia and staring at nothing in particular.

He jumped a little when the queen appeared, his senses starting to grow a little dulled around the edges. He winced slightly at the sarcastic tone in Ravin’s voice, wondering what had set him off so badly all of a sudden. For some reason, he was under the impression that Ravin was a pretty nice guy who hardly ever got too ticked off about anything, but maybe he was wrong. Hell, he was wrong a lot when it came around to judging people for who they really were. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever gotten it right just once.

“Come, Rowan.” He sat up, blinking rapidly and turning to stare at the Queen. “You will escort me to the rooms of the injured so that I can speed up their healing with my magic,” she continued, holding out her arm expectantly. Rowan nodded dumbly before getting to his feet and going to her, feeling for all the world like a lost runaway puppy who’d been discovered by his mistress yet again.

Why’s everybody always so damn mean all the time? he wondered in rather childlike fashion, as he stared up at Kazabet striding along beside him (she was actually two inches taller than he was). The older woman wore a frown on her face and didn’t open her mouth once as they walked together. And there had been Ravin, in a bad mood for some reason or other, and Tia, smiling at him, just smiling at him, and nothing else. And his sister always fussing at him for this and that, and this again, in case he’d forgotten. Even Jeremy probably saw him in a bad light now, since he’d dissed him for Tia’s company earlier in the day. Shoulda just taken the kid and been done with it, he mused, with an uncharacteristic scowl. It’s what he wanted, right?

As if to prove his point on world hatred, they entered Tristan’s room first. Any ounce of sympathy he might have felt for the young dragon on account of his tearful expression vanished when he only glared up at them the whole time, as if they’d come to murder him in his bed instead of help him get better. Ungrateful little chit, he thought, letting himself be led out by the Queen again.

When they got to the next room, housing Dalo and Erlic, Rowan pulled away from Kazabet so she could do her work on the two men. Erlic, too, didn’t think much of him. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the man, wondering what his sister saw in him---or what he saw in her, too. He thinks I’m an airheaded nitwit who has nothing better to do except butt in when I’m least wanted. He sighed and shook his head, walking out with Kazabet again as they proceeded onward. Erlic was half right, no, more than half right. He was an airhead, and he did butt in a lot. Why hadn’t he seen how annoying he must have been?

“Would ya stop with the deep thinking, already?” he muttered to himself, brushing a hand at Kazabet when she asked what he’d said nothing. The next room was Jeremy’s, which Rowan well knew, but what they encountered within was something he would never have expected to see in a million billion years. Marz and Jeremy in bed together?! His mouth must have hung open like an idiot the entire time the Queen busied herself with the two boys, his mind not even registering when she made some comment about hoping to find the two of them in the same position sometime tonight. He had to be practically dragged out of the room once she was finished.

He finally snapped out of it when he felt Kazabet kiss his cheek. “I'm off to freshen up now and hope to see you in my bedchamber later,” she murmured, stroking his chest lightly with one finger. He did feel a twinge of desire rise within him, especially after seeing what he’d just seen, but he brushed it mentally off before nodding at the Queen and watching her leave.

“Well, he got what he wanted,” he said aloud to himself, still feeling somewhat dazed. “Guess I should be happy for him.” And he was, kinda. Damn, did he leave his whiskey bottle back in the dining room?



Tristan just couldn’t stop crying. Marz was dead. Marz was dead because he, Tristan, had failed him in battle. It was just so awful, so heartbreaking, so sickening, that he began to feel sick to his stomach again, and he felt his face grow hotter and hotter and hotter, until he thought it must burst into flames, any second now. He continued to shiver, miserable beyond belief, unable to grasp any other fever frenzied thought other than the fact that Marz was gone forever.

The sound of the door opening shocked him momentarily; he was so caught up in himself that such mundane sounds of the outside world had ceased to exist for him. Quickly, he rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes, refusing to look up at the intruders until the very last minute. He was a bit stupefied to see the Queen and Rowan, probably because they were the very last two people on his mind right now. The tall, regal woman simply told him she was to heal him, and swiftly did what she’d come to do before leaving again.

Needless to say, Tristan was a little dazed afterward. The warm, soft feeling of the spell fell over him, enveloping his cold and clammy body in its comforting embrace. Almost immediately, he stopped shivering, and the achy, tired feeling in his head disappeared. His mind started to clear somewhat, and he actually sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes again. He still felt terrible for some reason, though.

But now that he could think a little more clearly, he began to ponder seriously the events of the evening. Yes, he’d seen Marz pass out on top of Corum. And yes, he was currently alone in their room. But…that didn’t necessarily mean Marz was dead. Besides, he was fairly certain the Queen and Rowan would have told him if he were.

So…what should he do about it, then?

Months of hanging around Marz had made him more decisive in his actions. “I’ll go and find him, that’s what,” he muttered, his mouth forming a determined frown. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling slightly dizzy as he tried to stand, but other than that, relatively all right. He made his way across the room, not even bothering to stop before the mirror and check his swollen eyes. (He was still trying not to think about the humiliation upon being found in such a state by Rowan and the Queen.)

He made his slightly wobbly way down the hall, where he beheld, of all things, a somewhat contemplative Rowan standing in the middle of the hallway. The elf started and looked up at him with slightly bloodshot eyes, the frown creasing his forward looking a little odd on his usually happy-go-lucky face.

“Hey there, pussy cat,” he said with a slight nod, “Feeling better?”

Tristan forgot to be annoyed by the nickname and simply returned the nod. “I’m looking for Marz,” he said evenly, steadying himself with a hand to the wall. “I really, really need to see him.”

“Oh, well he’s…” Suddenly, a stunned look came over Rowan’s face, and he stopped in mid-sentence.

“What?” Tristan asked, growing irritated. Did he or did he not know where Marz was? Goofy little bastard was always so hard to get information out of.

“Nothing,” Rowan said quickly, “He’s nowhere. I don’t know. He’s---

When the elf moved to hastily shut the door behind him, Tristan reached out and grabbed his wrist, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head a bit. A low, familiar moan drifted out from the room, causing his eyes to widen even more than before. His heartbeat quickened and his legs felt wobbly again, but the look he gave Rowan was sharp and penetrating. The elf tried to dissuade him, but Tristan brushed him easily aside, swinging the door open wider and stepping into his room.

“Oh god,” he said, his face going ashen at the sight of Marz and Jeremy in bed together. He backed up a step, tripping over a fringe of the carpet. “Oh god! Oh… god!” He turned and ran from the room, tripping again over his own feet a bit as he continued to softly chant the words under his breath. He hurried down the hallway, breaking into a run, ignoring Rowan’s calls from behind.

“Aw, shit…come on, kid, wait a second! Just come back, I’m sure it’s just…”

“Oh god…it’s nothing, sure it’s just nothing,” he mumbled, pushing his hands against his ears as he ran. He hurried back into his room, shutting the door behind him. But he didn’t want to be in here, he didn’t, not really, but he didn’t know where else to go. He glanced at the window, which was part way open, the wind ruffling the curtains somewhat---Marz liked to keep the windows open at night, you know. Still muttering senselessly to himself, he went to the window, ducking up over it and climbing onto the roof. He closed his eyes, letting his feet dangle in the wind as it buffeted his face and blew back his hair. He lit a cigarette without opening his eyes, thinking sadly, It’s nothing, it’s just nothing… over and over again, until he thought it must be true.

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