Twenty-eight

It was a good thing Baskerville was awake, because "Sir Shivs-A-Lot" really hadn't translated very clearly. Even without his dog's demonic translation ability, though, he'd have got the general idea.

"It does sound like something Weft would want to do, although I wonder why he didn't finish him off. Little things like audiences don't generally stop him."

The significant nuance of "want to do" would be lost on Jaina, naturally; she thought Weft operated under his own agenda. Suitov was inclined to let this misunderstanding run. Observing a revenge grudge told him more about his prospective love interests than mere pleasant all-night conversations.

(Should a romantic arrangement end badly, he would have had a presage of things to come.)

"Well," Sebastian said with admirable self-control over his facial expressions, "if only they were." He mused for a moment. "I don't suppose you would tell me exactly what it is you need to look out for in, uh, your... target?"

"Why, were you planning to help?" Weft asked, entirely jokingly. "Since everyone else seems to know - somehow, in spite it started out as a secret mission... there's no harm in telling you. And also it's fairly basic: I've been put to follow him around the country and keep an eye on his forces, morale, allies, inner circle and whatever else he gets up to that we ought to know about... oh, and make sure he isn't killed before we want him to be.

"Confidentially, the whole thing is driving me through the flax, but we can't assign anyone else. Suitov likes me." A moue crossed his face. The whole situation had become so unravelled. He still didn't know what had gone wrong.

Finally the bird got less boring. Ayu-Asra took a step back, watched it closely, and started a slowly growing growl.



"And Lance doesn't know why, either?" Sylvie asked. She found a rag and started cleaning the dishes, noting in passing the weirdness of languages. She had thought "ready" implied "not used yet".

"He likes you." Sebastian's tone had a taken a turn for the falsely calm, even kind he had often used around Riccy. He blinked a few times, tugging at the tip of a pointy ear.

He silently wondered if Weft was A) losing his touch B) just getting damned unlucky.

Deciding neither, Sebastian grinned nervously. "Right. Well. There's not much to help there, is there. Not that I would mind."

He then regarded Ayu-Asra. Hmm. "Cooooo?"

"Hey, if you can distract him he's yours. Just watch out for the evil redhead." Then Weft paused, something about Sebastian's tone sinking in, and glared twinstars at the halfie for a second. "And hey, I'm not crazy...-er than usual. I mean the man's downright friendly. Honestly. Practically nice. And that's weird. You just don't act that way. We're on opposite sides! I mean, there's diplomacy but I'm not empowered to negotiate so there's nothing he could get out of me, and I'm not trained as a diplomat so there's nothing I could get from him. The entire thing's a farce!" (Quite honestly, the thought that Ice was really being friendly had never crossed Weft's mind.)

He tried to detangle his nerves a little. "Anyway, all this must be boring, right?"

"Of course it's a farce!" Sebastian snorted and - with a dazzling, brilliant smile - said: "For some a life is a grand little play some higher power uses to entertain themselves. That it happens to be mainly comedy would of course hint toward a farce, yes?"

He mused for a moment. Where was he in this? Smart question, Silvermane. Wouldn't it be... the shades of grey?

Sebastian beamed again. "Boring? No. I'm having the time of my life just considering this."

Ayu-Asra tackled the "bird" to finish the job, with a roar that would have suited a beast ten times his size well.

Luckily, Weft managed to remove his hand just in time to avoid dragon-savagery.

"You know, I can honestly say I've never thought of life like that," he told Sebastian.

The Misto B'Gelerto, in their holy books, describe earthly life as a tragic grotesquerie enacted and reenacted for the dinnertime pleasure of a party of jaded gods (dinner parties tending to last a long time when you're immortal and have nothing better to do).

"It's certainly not the stupidest theory I've heard, either," he said, Sebastian having managed to tease a smile out of him again.

Weft'd forgotten about the banter. Nobody can persiflage like a Fox. Surprisingly, he'd almost missed it.

What made you think it was a theory? Sebastian asked in his mind, the tone gentle and soft. He never stopped smiling.

"Oh, well, you know, after meeting Riccy, that comparison could work for almost anything," he said, waving it off with a hand.

He was giving Ayu-Asra a very impressed look.

"To me, life is a tapestry. And however we dip and sew our way through, we can't help but leave a long thread behind us. Our past actions contribute to the pattern whether we act intentionally or randomly. One can extend that metaphor as far as yours; for example, some of us try to devote our time to darning and mending such wears, tears and moth-holes as naturally appear. And then of course there are those, like that thoughtless meddler indoors, who - who behave like scissors." Weft was somewhat shy about revealing his private thoughts, especially when his symbology was so unorthodox, but, well, the half-elf had seemed interested. And like all his brothers, Weft would happily chat about philosophy given the chance.

Not being a mind-reader, of course, he had no idea how seriously or unseriously Sebastian took... anything.

The constant jingling and growls in the background during their conversation tended, to an observer, to give credence to Sebastian's view of the world.

Without taking his eyes off the creature, the half-elf smiled and whisked his braid over one shoulder. "I can see the sense in that, although one has to ask, is it right to even mend wears, tears and moth-holes if they are a natural progression of someone's life? This is assuming, of course, that these persons are the masters of their life and the way they have chosen to live or let their own thread to contribute is the only true and intended one?" Having said this, Sebastian thought for a moment. He wasn't a mender or darner. Nor was he a pair of scissors. No, he was an innocent raised in a temple - well, two -, an innocent that had chosen to...

Chosen, what a word. Had he chosen, anywhere, on his own? He assumed so - divine guidance was unerring, something he was not, and the Lady of Luck wasn't known for straightforward games of cruelty.

"Of course, if you know without question what it was meant to be, then that would be a totally different matter, now, would it not?"

On some days he wished he knew who he was.

"But that's what I mean. All things are interwoven - nothing's independent. And if nobody exists apart from the whole, then what they do or break affects not only their own path, but everyone else's. You can only make a hole in fabric, not a string.

"And nobody can see the whole thing or guess what it'll be when it's finished. No mortal, I should say. We have to work within our own little patches. That's sort of the whole point."

Weft knew exactly who he was (or, in any case, what he was), and he assumed everybody else did too to a greater or lesser degree.

"Anyway, you can think it's a silly idea; I don't mind. You're someone who thinks of people as individuals, and I can see why that would make more sense to you."

"Oh," Sebastian said, "as to that... I rather see people as a stupid whole."

"And do you count yourself among them?"

"Why wouldn't I? Equal rights and so forth. I'm just slightly more confusing than the rest, so I would guess that makes them think I'm smarter." Sebastian paused for a moment. Wait, did he really feel this way, or was he just trying to amuse?

Gods, he did feel pretty stupid after all.

"And I thought I had the most pessimistic view of people," Weft said, seeming to address this first remark to Ayu-Asra.

"A lot of them are dull and stupid, of course, but I've come across many exceptions. You'd count as one of those."

The dragon looked up at Weft - well, half of him, with a tip of the cap, bell still attached, in his mouth. The other head snatched at the bell, but, luckily for the dragon, he couldn't grip the little thing properly.

"Why, thank you. I aim to entertain, of course. You are a good audience, most of the time anyway. At least your criticism would have finality, as you would much sooner throw a knife than a tomato," Sebastian smiled, although mainly at the tiny dragon. It was like watching a kitten.

As on cue, the bell-chasing head curled its neck close to the ground to look up at its other half, and flattened its quills to look as harmless and pitiable as possible, and mewled in a heart-rending way.
The other head gave an annoyed snort, and then dropped the fragment of cap down to the begging head, who snatched it before it hit the ground, and shook it like a terrier shook a rat. tingelingelingelingeling