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Date Posted: 23:46:44 12/16/01 Sun
Author: Tristan and Rowan
Subject: Well, but time is a relative constant
In reply to: Corum & Yorik....and Erlic 's message, "Seemed like three hours" on 20:11:21 12/16/01 Sun

Tristan sighed. The crazy little melodramatic show Jeremy and Barry were putting on together must have momentarily distracted Marz from answering his question. For a second, he forgot what it was he’d asked him anyway, but then decided that didn’t really matter. It was the principle of the thing, wasn’t it?

He took another drag from the cigarette, throwing his head back and laughing along with everybody else when the skull went off with the nearly naked girl. Poor Corum, he found himself thinking, He never was much to look at, but it must suck to be dissed for a floating head! The more he tried to think about what that woman could possibly do with a disembodied skull, the more he couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, he got control of himself, and returned Marz’s grin, tightening his grip on his arm somewhat.

But just as quickly, those dark eyes were looking away from him again, and Marz addressed the others, his laid back tone of voice betraying the early effects of the tribal brandy he was drinking. Tristan frowned and pulled his arm away, annoyed that he still hadn’t received an answer. Damn, if only he could remember what the question had been about….

A ha! Okay, that was it. He’d wanted to know what Marz would do in the cave. Well, obviously no answer was more than enough of answer. (Wait, did that make sense?) Besides, Tristan already knew what he’d do in the cave. He wondered idly what Erlic and…who? Oh, Tia. He wondered what Erlic and Tia were doing in the cave. For some reason, the idea of the icy-faced man making out with a sweet girl like Tia struck him as indefinably hilarious. For once, he couldn’t seem to keep the grin off his face.

Tristan realized he must have been thinking a long time, because when he opened his eyes again (woah, he’d closed them? And didn’t even remember doing it? Cool…), Corum was returning with Barry floating over his shoulder. From the way the skull was acting, he took it things hadn’t gone very well with the naked girl. Maybe she’d tried to stick his stumpy head on a stick, like Yorik. Oh, oh, or maybe Barry was just jealous of Yorik. Yeah, that had to be it. Would he feel better if Tristan offered to ram him onto the end of his sword? The thought made him start to snicker.

When Corum finally sat down, Tristan remembered that Marz had asked whose turn it was. Not yours, he thought, sticking his tongue out at his lover. Well, he supposed Marz could go into a dark romantic cave with another person, but he’d just make sure he went with him, that’s all. After all, wasn’t Marz’s fault he was such a hot commodity. Tristan considered it his duty to personally fend off any love and/or lust struck admirers. Visions of him bashing Jeremy’s multicolored head into a stone wall danced in his mind, bringing his goofy smile back.

“It’s my turn!” he suddenly declared, pointing a thumb at his chest. “A little company in the dark’ll be a lot better than being ignored by some people.” His smile turned triumphant as he leaned forward to make a grab for the knife. For some annoying reason, though, the weapon kept fuzzing in and out of focus, even moving slightly from side to side. Well, that’s weird.

“Quit moving,” he muttered, giggling slightly—wait a second, did he just giggle? Woah, that was so not cool. Okay, better stop now. Giggling dragons were just not very intimidating, simple as that.

Finally, his fingers managed to grasp the dagger’s hilt, and he spun it quickly around, the point coming to rest on Isobel. But Tristan was still staring at the knife, mostly because he still thought it was spinning, for one thing. The sound of voices approaching made him forget the game momentarily, and he frowned to see Erlic, Tia, and a stranger coming towards them.

Tristan frowned in confusion when Erlic actually introduced the man as Alakbar. “I’m Alakbar,” he muttered, giving the strange man a doubtful glance. It was true; when he, Corum, and Marz had left the city, the mad sheik had changed his mind about his son, realizing once and for all that he was not Corum—he was instead Tristan! For the rest of the day, Tristan got to experience what it was like being something of a prince, although nothing really incredible happened, except that he almost got turned into a tree. Unless he was imagining that part. Yeah. Had to be.

A funny smell prickled at Tristan’s senses, drawing him slowly from his reverie. He stared at the stranger, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly. The man reeked of magic. At that moment, young Alakbar returned his gaze, and Tristan was rocked momentarily out of his dazed state by the intense feeling of being watched by someone other than the frightened young man who stood before them.

The feeling passed quickly, though, and he blinked, looking quickly away. He brought the cigarette to his mouth once again, but realized it was pretty much extinguished. Shrugging, he tossed it into the fire and wondered why everybody was suddenly talking about assassins. He hoped no more assassins were coming to kill Marz again. That would be very bad. But it wouldn’t really matter, because Tristan would kill them, too.


Isobel’s quick response to Rowan’s teasing question made him laugh, glad to be sitting beside someone whose wit was as apparently well honed as her lithe body. His attention was diverted from her, however, when Barry flew from above and grasped the dagger in his mouth, making it spin a few times before pointing at Jeremy. Rowan joined the others in laughing his ass off at both startled skull and youth, although he felt kind of bad for Jeremy. Then again, he hoped this game wasn’t played like the last one. Then Jeremy would have to spin next, and if the knife landed on Rowan, he would have to decline, which would be kind of awkward.

He shook his head, grinning as one of the native girls volunteered, surprising everyone when she tripped off with Barry at her heels instead of poor Jeremy. Now Rowan felt doubly bad for him, although it didn’t curb his laughter any.

The joking and laughing went on for a little while, until Corum declared that he had to know what was going on between the two. Privately, Rowan was wondering just what the hell was going on between Tia and Erlic, but he supposed it was none of his business. He glanced at Laurel, but she’d been drinking, and so didn’t look as annoyed as he felt.

Like I have any right to be jealous, he mused, forcing a grin. I don’t own her. Once Corum returned with a rather put out looking Barry floating beside him, somebody else came forward to spin the dagger. Rowan didn’t see who it was, but he did see that it had landed on Isobel.

“Save some for me,” he whispered to her, smiling again and giving her a wink. He must have been drinking a little too much, as well, since even he thought that was a little on the crass side. Not exactly his usual smooth and debonair self, that was for sure.

The party was halted momentarily, though, by the return of Tia, Erlic, and oddly enough, a Nerombian boy wearing what looked to be rags. Immediately, a slightly sober look returned to Rowan’s eyes, as he watched Erlic explain what had happened. His expression hardened slightly when they were told the boy was a prince of some sort, and had been captured by assassins. He didn’t particularly appreciate Erlic’s calling them ‘religious zealots.’ The shado served the gods, as well, protecting the ones chosen to lead the people, and eliminating any potential threat to divine decree. Of course, everybody knew it was mostly a political organization, but the younger kids like Rowan had taken the religious aspects to heart.

He raised an eyebrow when Erlic appointed him and Ravin to ride up front tomorrow. He sure as hell wasn’t used to being singled out for any special purposes; he’d never so much as led a rendezvous between groups back home. Never the less, it secretly pleased him that Erlic thought him so capable—and in the same category as Ravin, too!

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