LOG: Back!, or, An Honest Mistake
Nov. 11th, 2008 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
evilbeejMy first RP on Vienna. Czcibor falls out of the Hedge onto Martin, and Konrad and Rainer have to do damage control.
So there's gothic arches in churches in really old cities. Like Vienna. And usually what you see on the other side of them matches what's on the other side of the arches around them. You know, you look through, you see more wall. Or a great big northex. Or *whatever*. The point is you generally don't look through and see trees and grass and open sky -- especially if it's overcast and raining and dark -- or *walking statues*.
There's really only the one walking statue. It's like some statue of some old-school army guy from a couple centuries ago up and got off his pedastal, all lead and dents and whatever, and is walking *at* the arch. Purposefully. Open, empty hands.
He darts the last couple of meters, eyes wide, and *whoosh* makes it through-- and then it's just an arch, and he's just a guy, wearing a uniform for no army alive, and he's not stopping, and in fact, he's about to plow into someone because he's not even *looking*, he's too shocked.
It's raining, and Martin is beginning to think that is is *always* raining in Vienna, his Southern California soul having already forgotten the snow and ice of winter and instead moved onto some sort of instinctive fear of mudslides and hatred for precipitation. This hatred is only exacerbated by the fact that he seems markedly unprepared for rain, moving through the streets with his plaid overshirt and his jeans and what hair sticks out past that fedora of his slicked down to his skin. He splashes through puddles and over curbs with a scowl on his face--until he's fairly sure that he's seeing through that same gray stone arch -- how MANY of those are there in Vienna ANYWAY -- is some place that is NOT raining, and his head jerks up, pupils spiraling out until there's no amber left, only black, and Martin has about half a second to consider this thing he is seeing before he's ploughed onto. Normally, he's a sturdy six-foot-four, if built like a crane, but this time he's taken just a bit off-guard, and he goes flying back onto his rear end, both hands going not to catch himself but to keep that fedora from making an escape. "Oi!"
There are, of course, always other people on the streets. Two of the nearer ones are walking together: two men in conversation. One of them, a fortyish, worn-looking man in patched clothing has his head turned. "Can find one for you. Can find several. Even in a city, there's space. It's a matter of time, nothing more. And time's what we've got." He lengthens his stride a little as they approach the arch -- and then pulls up abruptly to avoid joining the sudden collision in front of him. For just an instant his eyes widen almost as much as Martin's; then Konrad's expression shifts into a scowl, and he hunches over a little. To start offering people a hand up, see. "Look where you're going," he rumbles at the uniformed stranger. Helpful, isn't he?
The *other* other guy, the blond who looks a bit like someone left him out in the weather too long, less patched but also early-forty-something, does a brief and semi-surreptitious doubletake at the collision as it plays out practically on his toes, and then he, too, is moving to offer a hand up. "Anything broken?" is his dry contribution. Besides all the sanity in a ten-yard radius, he means?
The uniformed stranger is already picking himself up carefully off of Martin even as Konrad's reaching down to help, and he actually briefly shies away from Konrad when he looks at him, until what he /says/ processes. *Then* he talks: he's got a Polish accent, which might account for the processing time. German's not his first language. "I'm truly sorry! I didn't expect -- *are* you all right?" he asks Martin, taking Konrad's hand up with a look of apology. "You're real, aren't you? You're a real person. I didn't break you, did I?" Glance to Rainer, as he's brushing himself off and then looking surprised all over again. "Not even a dent. Oh they *move*. This -- what year is it?" The questions come out eager and tumbled, interspersed in the physical chaos, only adding to the level of what-the-fuck.
Once he's assured that his fedora isn't going anywhere, Martin reaches out to accept whomever's help has been offered, hauling himself back up to his full height in the soaking rain. "Thanks," He says, and even with that one word it's clear that German is not his own native language. He speaks sloppily, too nasal and with a shallow cant that's characteristic of Americans. "I..no, nothing's broken, I don't think, I'm fine." Puzzlement covers his features a few seconds later, and he pats himself down before giving a little look over his shoulder as if he expects to see something there. Canid cameras, perhaps. "I...think I'm a real person? I was last I checked. I didn't *think* that washed off." He glances again, with those oddly feral eyes of his, past the uniformed man this time, towards the building arch. "...was...I swore.." SO CONFUSED.
Konrad makes an impatient, unpleasant sound in his throat, a snarl trailing into a hint of growl. "You need a place to sit down and sleep off the worst of ... whatever this is." His eyes focus intently on the uniformed Pole. "And a change of clothes." There's a brief flicker of that otherwise intent gaze toward Martin. He does his best to time that for Martin's looking over his own shoulder. Then it's back to Czcibor. "... welcome back from the costume party. Doesn't look like you had much fun."
"Oh," is Rainer's deadpan comment, "I don't know about that." He pauses, takes another look at Czcibor, and adds, "Perhaps a bit too *much* fun. In any case, it is probably not doing any of us any good to go on standing out here in the rain..." He lets that sentence trail off in obvious suggestion.
...so, this is the part where the apparently drunk guy from what was apparently a costume party abruptly grabs Martin's arm and holds to it, eyes a little wide, eyeing Konrad and Rainer. "No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*." He pauses, breathing evening out a little bit, then glances sidelong up at Martin and lets go his arm. "Kid, let me know if I'm scaring you and I'll just run for it." The guy could be drunk, or could be touched in the head, or -- honestly, it could be they're all part of some weird scene. I mean, stuff happens. In cities.
"Did you just SNARL at me?" Martin says to Konrad, his eyebrows dropped against his amber eyes and his lips pursed together in an expression that would be almost comical, if there wasn't just the wrong amount of canny intention behind his irises. But then he's being clung to, and his eyebrows dart right back up towards his fedora, mouth opening to remind the drunk dude that just because *he* is full of alcohol doesn't mean he could ignore everyone *else's* personal space--but something clicks, after he's again let go, and he says, in a smallish voice that does not at all argue his case, "I'm not a kid. It's two-thousand and two. No one's going to make you go anywhere you don't want to be." As if this man, so obviously close to his childhood and so gangly-tall, can make decisions for anyone. He certainly speaks as if he expects people to listen.
"No," Konrad answers Martin. He jerks his head a little to one side, indicating Czcibor. "I snarled at *him*." He lowers his head to glare at the uniformed man a little better. "This is the world. There are laws here. One of them says 'if you stand out in the rain and the wind long enough without a coat on, you get cold and collapse.' So let's find somewhere *out* of the wind. And the cold. And the rain. Before we get washed right into the river." He's talking to Czcibor; he's watching Martin, wary. "Ever been to Vienna before?"
"Oh, holy God," Rainer sighs, and puts a hand briefly over his face. And then he drops it and, fixing each of the other men in turn with a sharp and authoritative look, says, "Everyone here is real, and this *is* the real world, and everyone here needs to calm down and get out of the rain. We may all go somewhere public, and I will pay for coffee, and I swear," this, very seriously, to Czcibor, "on my own true name, that neither one of us," a nod to Konrad, "will take you anywhere today that you don't consent, may I be cursed for a year and a day if it's not so. I'm Rainer. Can we go, please?"
Watching the uniformed man's face is like watching a pageant of expression. He goes from surprised disappointment at the year to relief at Martin's inexplicable air of authority, both with edginess underneath, and then the edginess comes to the forefront when Konrad's glaring at him, and his stance changes noticeably (defensive!), and then it abruptly deflates at the non sequitur of Konrad's last question; he's about to answer when Rainer asplodes in exasperation. And then he *actually* relaxes. "All right. And no, I've never been here before. I'm from Wroclaw..." trailing off, and then the man shakes his head. "...Kowalewicz. Pietrek. Lead the way."
"If you guys need a warm, dry place to talk about weird-ass things I doubt should really be discussed in the middle of the road," This is a hint! A very subtle hint! "I live on top of the Honest Mechanic, and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal to flag a cab down so you can talk out your 'laws' on the floor." Martin peers back at Konrad, reaching up to readjust his fedora on his head. "Or we could go for coffee and have everyone and their brother stare at us, whatever!" The American has an appropriately big mouth. His hands toss a little bit, but it's clear Martin has not written himself out of the equation of this craziness yet.
Konrad doesn't say a word. (Yay!) He just swings his head, looking to Rainer.
Once he's done wincing at Pietrek's name, anyhow.
"Up to you," Rainer tells Pietrek promptly, after a shuttered glance toward Martin at his offer. Since he *did* just swear to be cursed if he or Konrad tried to make the guy go anywhere he didn't want to.
After something of a pause, he adds, "Not in public is likely preferable." He says it just a little grudgingly; in public is *safer* in many respects, but Martin does have a point.
Pietrek pauses. He looks from Martin, whom he sees as much safer, to Rainer, who made him a promise -- Konrad is still scaring him, kind of -- and shrugs, blissfully ignorant of potentially breaking anyone's brains. "Wherever's closest."
Martin gestures almost wardingly with his hands, "I promise no one's going to jump you while you're at the Mechanic, I don't mean anyone harm. It's just folks tend to call the looney wagon first and ask questions later, you know?" He looks down to Pietrek, his mouth pressing to a vague line, "Well, I live in the Inner Districts, so the Mechanic is a bit of a ways, but it's really not a long taxi ride, I can cover it. It's *really* a better idea if you're ...how should I say, jittery? It's better to get that out in private than disrupt some coffee bar with it." He grins, then, his expression wide and affable. He seems so *reasonable*, right now, like such a friendly, easy-going face. If no one complains, he'll even hail a cab.
The cab ride, as promised, does not take long, although it does suspiciously draw the small group of men into the seedier, more dirty part of town. The Inner Districts are not, exactly, the nicest-looking places in the world, but it's home for Martin, and through the bars the guard the high-mounted windows of the warehouse that advertises itself as 'The Honest Mechanic', one can see curtains and potted plants.
The inside of the warehouse, visible once Martin removes the key from the inside brim of his hat and unlocks the door, proves that it is no longer honest nor a mechanic's, having clearly been converted to a living space-slash-run-for the pair of large, thick-furred dogs napping in the corner-slash-practice area for what appears to be a rock band, judging by the electronic equipment, instruments and other sundries scattered over the stage that dominates one side of the room. There are sofas and over-stuffed chairs that abound, which Martin gestures to as he pulls the door closed behind his guests and, quietly, locks it. The dogs in the corner look up, and one 'wuffs' half-heartedly, but they don't move.
Instead, it's Martin moving, tossing one hand towards the mini-fridge as he goes to the edge of the stage, to hop up and sit there with his long legs dangling down. "There's water and beer and God knows what else in the fridge, help yourselves. As for me," He lifts his fedora off of his head, so casually, flipping it through his hands, "I'd be happy with knowing what the *hell* was on the other side of that arch." Czcibor the Absent, he's looking at you.
The Pole looks decidedly unimpressed at the locking of the door, but doesn't say anything about it. "A lot of stupid wars fought for a lot of stupid people with too much power." He looks uncertain, then glances at Konrad and Rainer, almost defiantly. He looks back at Martin. "Otherworld?"
Rainer glances toward Konrad briefly at this, but mostly he looks resigned. At this juncture, it seems, pretending to be completely normal is just not going to happen, if only because at least two people here are refusing to let it. What can you do? He inclines his head toward Czcibor in something like commiserations. "Nowhere anyone sane wants to be," he says.
Konrad, on the other hand, either doesn't notice the locking of the door or doesn't care. His attention's over in the corner, on the dogs. No, there are no low noises in his throat this time. Conciliatory is more the tone of the moment. Apparently German Shepherds rate higher on the etiquette scale than, uh, Americans. After Martin's seated, Konrad drops himself into a corner of one of the sofas... one with the least random dog hair. He drips on it. He doesn't particularly seem to care. "Hell's on the *other* side of it. That's just the borderlands." He regards Czcibor gravely for a moment. "You're in Vienna, it's two thousand two, and Pietrek Kowale-- I can't even *say* that -- just lost against South Korea in the first round of the World Cup. Sorry."
"You're not talking about the hisil." It comes out more a statement of fact than a question, for all that Martin's eyebrows lift as he looks between the other three, but the most remarkable thing about that statement is the last word. It simply isn't *human*, there's something feral and ancient and powerful about it, and it snarls as it comes out of the American's throat, picking up a bassimo shudder from, apparently, out of nowhere. "Or are you?" He considers the others carefully, his eyes narrow and distant.
There's this moment of 'ah!' realization and understanding as Pietrek catches Rainer's glance. The commiseration is shared. And then, there is a classic doubletake, as the man looks at Konrad with his calm and apologetic statement; he stares. "What? Shit! What? Really? Shit! How?!" He pauses again, then holds up his hands, looks away, takes a very visible step back. He does not sit. He just drips where he's standing. A quick flip of his gaze to Martin, and he shrugs. "I've never heard the word. For all I know, it could be." Then he's eyeing Konrad with a combination of suspicion and speculation. "I'm not sure what's harder to believe. That I'm not actually missing, and am on the national team. Or that we *lost* to *South Korea*!"
Rainer - who did *not* sit down, but is instead remaining on his feet throughout all of this so far - cocks a brow at Martin, and watches him with unconcealed wary scrutiny for some moments before he points out, bluntly, "You have us at a disadvantage. If you're wanting a full explanation, perhaps you should consider making it an even exchange of information, rather than talking your way into a debt it will be difficult to pay back."
On Konrad's side? German Shepherds no longer outrank Americans on the *attentiion* scale,anyhow. His eyes snap to Martin at that single word, and remain there: not *quite* a challenge. Though his fingertips are digging into the couch cushions a little with the effort of keeping it that way. Further detail about South Korea may have to wait.
"Talking myself into a debt!" Martin laughs around the words, then, a sharp and barking sound that rings through the Mechanic and clearly shows his amusement. It's not a pure thing, but worldly and sly. "What, indeed, would you find an 'even' exchange of information?" He says, still amused, before his eyebrows dart upwards. "But I have been rude, at least half of you have given names. I'm Martin, you may have *that* for free. Martin Grey, even." His eyes dart to Czcibor first, casually, as he adds, "If you haven't heard the word, I'd wager you haven't been there." Then his amber eyes settle on Konrad, and something straightens in his spine, that rapscallion grin of his going still around the edges. "Watch yourself."
Someone's apparently waking up -- it could be the danger, the tones, the sheer testosterone -- who knows. Either way, Pietrek drops his hands to his sides and looks square at Martin. "I don't know how you can make *him* react like that, Mr Grey, but these men are here because of me, and an oath was made. I take it from your continued lack of reaction to our appearances that you either can't *see* what I can see, or you'd know the answers to the questions you're asking, which means you *do* want information. I apologise for bringing you into the middle of this--" He looks to Konrad and Rainer, quickly, "--and to you for putting you both on the spot. But--" Now he stands so he can see all of them in his field of vision. "--there has been no violence, and for Christ's sake, there shouldn't be. I *was* born in Wroclaw, and I lived there until I was sixteen. I was a footballer. I couldn't honestly tell you what I am now, or where I've been, or what I've seen, because I don't know or don't understand. What I *do* know is that *I* am the one who owes you for protection and hospitality; I am the cause of this... situation. They are *not*." The man sticks out his chin -- is he for real? -- and finally crosses his arms. "In other words, he *is* watching himself. If it's not enough, I respectfully acknowledge my debt to you and ask that I may repay it at another time. And I will leave. With them."
Rainer's reply to Martin is - rather cut off by Czcibor, and although he's spent most of this experience looking rather guarded, there's definitely something of a change in the way he regards Czcibor, listening to that.
The result is that, when he does add his own response, it's in a more neutral tone than it might otherwise have been. "As he says," with an inclination of his head, again, to Czcibor, although he's watching Martin again now. "I can't speak for anyone but myself - but for myself, I have too much to lose to go answering such questions without receiving assurances in return."
Konrad meets Martin's eyes. This may be a tactical error. But it's only for a moment, long enough to gauge; then he drops his head slightly with a puzzled expression. While Czcibor's talking, he scans the rest of the room, searching, and settles again looking at the dogs; then, without making any *sudden* moves, he eases himself down off the couch. Onto all fours, because at this point, it's *painfully* obvious that he might as well. Then there's another repetition of his 'talk to someone, indicate another' trick ... but this time, it's the *dogs* he's talking to, and the little twist of his head indicates Martin. And 'talking' involves an almost puppylike yip and inquisitive whine.
"No one's being violent." Martin says, in a tone of voice that's almost reasonable, unflapped as he so often seems. "I'm not threatening anyone, I'm just pointing out that I can see what he's doing, there, and there's no need for him to do it. Not in my living room, where it's going to get Bruce and Akos all riled." His gaze glances towards the dogs in the corner, before settling on Pietrek again. "What I see are three men who, like myself, are very likely *very* different beneath the surface. What I see is someone who may or may not have an ability that, given it's voluntary, he ought to be *far* more careful in using where the plebians can see it. What I see are three men who are welcome to leave any moment they wish to, if they find my hospitality and curiousity too much to bear. I see people who take words are far more face value than is healthy. I hear a lot of talk of equal trade, so for what it's worth, I was born in Los Angeles and came to Vienna when I was seventeen, to attend University. That did not work out as well as I had hoped." But then Konrad is moving, and Martin's attention is most definitely on him, eyebrows raised, expression more curious than anything else.
The newcomer to the REAL WORLD, the one in the crazy oldschool uniform, gets a sort of flat expression at Martin's reasonableness. Only at the start, though, it's cool. It passes, and is replaced with a pleasant affability that's hard to tell if it's only a mask. He drops his arms again and clasps them behind his back, then looks -- without surprise -- at Konrad. Politely, he waits until -that- conversation is over before he replies to Martin, "Words hold power."
After another, brief exchange of sounds and cocking of heads, Konrad straightens in turn ... well, up to one knee, at least. He glances back over his shoulder, toward Rainer. "It's all right," he says; then shrugs. "Half all right, anyhow. He's not one of *them*." Which, to judge by the far-easier body language, is what had him stressed from that first Word Martin used. "Can't tell more than that, but anything else is safer." Then he reorients on Martin again. "I'm called Konrad Maier. I came to Vienna late last year, in no better shape than the man here did. I don't know either what the thing you named is, or whether it's another word for what you saw."
"Oh, certainly," Martin says, and that sharp, long grin is back across his face. "But that does not make them true." He directs his attention to Konrad, then, considering him, and the dogs, and then Konrad a second time, thoughtfully. "The language of men would call it 'the Shadow', but that's not the best of names for it. Too innaccurate and accurate all at once. Its denizens, and my people, call it the hisil." He shrugs, easily, his gaze sweeping over the rest of them. "I meant what I said about my intentions. If you wish to go, the door is right there, I only lock it out of habit. But I think perhaps this could be an interesting conversation, if we're willing to talk freely. I know you are not plain humans, but I know you are not my people, and I do not think you are of the others I know." He is *intrigued*.
Rainer looks somewhat more relaxed at Konrad's words - enough so to make it fairly clear that the '*them*' that Konrad was referring to - whatever 'they' are - was perhaps also his primary concern. which is not to say he doesn't still seem kind of wary. "You may be right," he agrees evenly. "And we could all benefit from this, maybe. All I ask is that, if we're to speak openly about what *we* are, that you be willing to do the same. I think that's fair enough."
The uniformed Pole spreads his hands, then, and bows his head slightly. When he looks up again, he's grinning. "All right, then. What he said," he gestures at Rainer, and then finally makes for Martin's fridge. In for a penny, in for a pound -- and there's *beer* in there. And stuff. And, -- that can't have been a coo, no guy that looks like that could coo, but it was *quite* the pleased sound. "Real food! And actually, what -do- you see when you look at me? I look human? We all look normal?"
Normal or not, at the moment Konrad looks ... pained. It's the 'we were never that young' expression. Unmistakably. "We all look normal. That's why the driver didn't blink. And why we weren't being chased down the road with pitchforks and torches." And yes, he's still not growling. There's a slow nod back to Martin, and he adds, "Freely enough, but private. We can't make you unsee what you've seen." Other people might be able to, but not them. Ahem. "But I think neither your people nor ours would be glad of things spread *too* freely." ... and that's when he siits back down. Er. Up. Whichever has him on cushions instead of floor. Apart from the wince at Czcibor's sheer enthusiasm, Konrad continues to seem a good bit calmer. After all, Martin's dogs vouched for him. Right?
Martin inclines his head, at Rainer's words, calmly, and spreads his hands through the air, his fedora in one of them. "I have Oaths I *have* made to others who mean a great deal more to me than you do, I will be frank. But for what I can tell, I am willing to share. In the name of friendship." He considers Czcibor carefully, putting his hat into his lap and folding his hands under it after running one through the crazed mop of his hair. "I see men. Normal men, by *appearances*. As for myself, I can only really show you half of what I am at a time. Feel free to help yourself to the kung pao chicken in there, by the way, but be warned, it's got a hell of a kick." The aside to Czcibor is dropped almost casually into the conversation, and he smiles in a fashion that makes him seem, for a moment, far older than the twenty or twenty-one his face usually implies. "I have been at this a long, long time. I know where the lines are. And, I think, my people will forgive me my trespasses." There's a certain wry tone to his voice, there, that goes unexplained.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair." Here he pauses, turning another sidelong glance toward Konrad, and then, finally, he moves to take a seat. Sitting kind of on the edge of the cushion, granted, but hey, it's progress. "What you saw, before," he says, "we call the Hedge."
"Pitchforks and torches? Really?" Pause. "--I'm just going to listen for a bit. And see if the chicken will kill me," says Pietrek, taking said leftovers out of the fridge with a beer, and taking a seat more or less straddling a chair, beer opened and put carefully on the floor next to the chair. He takes a bite of kung POW, and blinks. His expression? Very very clearly, 'wow i can has tastebuds! and they are burning! AWESOME!'
Konrad glances back at Czcibor, and flips his head pointedly, then shakes it.
(... sadly, only two out of three spectators can see that this actually flops his ear across his nose and very nearly his eyes, and the shake of head is necessary to get it out of the *way* again.)
"It's a borderland, a place between places," Konrad picks up when Rainer finishes. "There are things that live past it. They steal people, sometimes. Some of us make it back." He nods (more carefully) to Czcibor again. "Most don't."
"Do you live in the *Gauntlet?*" Martin says, astonished, for a moment, before he shakes his head, pushing his fingers through his hair, briefly. "I get ahead of myself again. So I mentioned the hisil. The Shadow, where the spirits live. The Gauntlet seperates it from this world, it must be passed through to go from one to the other. I didn't think anything *lived* there. Just...beyond it." This is confusing for him, people are threatening his well-established world view!
Rainer looks dubious. "I'm not sure it's the same thing," he says. "In any case, we live *here,* not in the Hedge - the Hedge is dangerous. The things that live there are... hobgoblins. Hedge-beasts. There are safe havens, if you can find them, but without one, to be in the Hedge is to be that much closer to the Others." The way he says it makes it very clear that the 'Others' are A Bad Thing.
It's a miracle Pietrek doesn't crack up laughing at Konrad's ears. It'd be kind of like laughing at Eeyore, only with more wounded dignity potentially involved. "I *think* I was with my entire regiment. I think. I may have left them in the box. I don't think I would have left without them..." He trails off. Then, "Safe havens?" He looks dubious, and is suddenly talking around a mouthful of food. "The only thing safe about any of that is staying the hell away." He washes it down quickly with some of that beer, and for a moment he looks like he's about to bliss out. Then he's okay. Really.
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
Martin shrugs, almost philosophically, watching Konrad with canny amber eyes. "Yes, well, things like this have an incredible tendency to literally blunder right into me. And now I *do* know, don't I? They're on the horizon *now* even if they hadn't been." He reaches up, to grasp the hair at the back of his head, and give it a brief, thoughtful tug. "No, Spirits come over for a lot of reasons. Well, one of two reasons, really, but it manifests in many ways. It doesn't really matter what they are." He considers the others, mouth quirking to one side. "So basically the gist of it is, these Others come and kidnap folks, and diddle them beyond the Hedge, and when folks get free and come back, they're not the same any more."
To this, Rainer can't help but laugh, just a little, although it's dry and not especially humorous, a short 'heh' sound. "That is the gist of it, yes," he agrees wryly, "boiled down. Although I'd say it's more *if* they get free and come back, rather than *when.* We're the lucky ones."
"And... I was going to say, how many unsolved missing persons reports are there a year? How many go missing that no one would even notice? But then-- I'm not even missing, *am* I," adds the Pole grumpily, now working on the beer. "I should change my name."
"They have been." The shaking of Konrad's head becomes an equally slow nod. " 'Don't go into the woods by yourself, there's a hag who eats children, and adults can't see her.' 'Don't go dancing by yourself with strangers; you won't come home again.' 'The little boy said, before he died, he saw a king and the king's daughters, but his father never saw anything.' Everyone hears the stories. Most people just don't listen. And then," another nod to the Pole in question, "some of us don't go missing. And some of us just get found dead."
"Well, it's easier to say things in a hundred words or less when you boil them down." Martin observes, releasing the hair he was previously tugging on. "Yeah, those stories can apply to almost *anything* that goes bump in the night. I wish people would listen to them more often, really." He rolls his eyes, then, the bright color flickering before he settles his hands back in his lap. "But it seems I've been asking lopsided questions. I sort of said I'd try to keep the trade equitable, didn't I?" There's a brief wince, which is Martin's invitation for them to ask questions of *him*, if he so desires.
"You did," Rainer agrees. "And I personally at least would like to know - since you're not one of us, and you're clearly not one of the masses living in ignorant bliss... what is it that you are?" He does, oddly enough, seem a bit less uptight about this whole business by this point - perhaps because Martin's willing to give tit for tat, perhaps simply out of having resigned himself to the situation, perhaps a little of both.
"How could you tell I was an officer? I've been an idiot all night--" Czcibor asides quietly to Konrad while Rainer's asking. He pauses. "Oh. Officers. Idiots. Right." Then his attention is once more *fully on the topic at hand*. He crosses his arms over the chair back, has a little more beer. And he looks -very- interested at the upcoming answer to Rainer's question.
Konrad snorts quietly at Czcibor's conclusion, but ... other than that, keeps quiet. Rainer's got his question. Konrad's got his guesses, but it's Martin's decision exactly what and how much he's going to spill.
"I go bump in the night." Martin says, and for a second it seems like he might leave it there, his grin sharp and full of teeth. "My people call themselves Uratha, but I wouldn't use that word lightly, or with someone you do not know, it's likely to get you killed before they ask questions. I am, amongst other far more mundane things, a werewolf." He says this with all seriousness, despite his smooth probably-was-a-teenager-last-week features, his apparent inability to grow a complete beard, his rangey and far from intimidating frame.
Rainer shoots a brief, indignant sidelong look at Czcibor. What was that, now? But Martin's talking, so it's only a momentary look before all of his attention is back on the younger man.
He cocks an eyebrow at the word 'werewolf,' but doesn't look particularly skeptical. Instead - perhaps tellingly - he glances over at Konrad. And then, looking back to Martin, he says, "Huh." Just that. He's processing.
Czcibor grins, spreads hands at Rainer, then blinks at Martin. He, too, looks at Konrad, and then back at Martin, and then he starts laughing, beer-free hand over his face. "Sorry. The dramatic irony from before is only now hitting me."
Somewhere in all that exchange of looks, Konrad explains simply, "One of the dogs mentioned it." Which probably doesn't help Czcibor stop laughing any.
The tall American blinks, a few times, before his mouth quirks into a more rueful smile. "Well, that's the first time anyone's LAUGHED when I said that." Then his eyes dart to the dogs, and Martin raises his eyebrows. "I see they are giving out privledged information, now." BRUCE, you're on NOTICE.
Rainer, apparently the sourpuss of the bunch thus far, end up looking a little amused himself, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's - ah - a bit difficult to explain, since you can't see." He looks apologetic, but he doesn't follow that comment with an effort toward explanation, either - that's Konrad's story to tell. Or not. "It's safe to say we're... a bit inured."
"--" Still laughing. Quietly. Head on his forearm on the back of the chair he's in. Sorry. Czcibor finally takes a deep breath, then finishes off the beer and puts the bottle down carefully next to the empty kung pao chicken container. "So that's-- your people, they're werewolves." Face value. But then again, Konrad can talk to Martin's dogs. Again with the irrepressible grin. "I thought you were--" He glances at Rainer and Konrad again, and manages to repress the irrepressible. "I gather it's good that you were not, in fact, a normal human."
Konrad spreads his hands, then quite deliberately scratches himself behind an ear. "Think he had the idea I was one of your people, too. For some reason." Like the on-all-fours and chatting in their language thing. A bit inured. Yes.
"Yes, we're werewolves." Martin says, his eyebrows lifting as he fixes Czcibor with a flat, intense gaze. "I don't see what's so funny about it. I can show you, if you think I'm shitting you. Thought I was, what, a mortal? I should hope you'd have a bit more care with your tongue around them." Then he flickers that attention to Konrad once more, his shoulders uneven in his shrug. "I should have figured at least Bruce for a big mouthed doofus anyway. I love them to death but Bruce is sort of a whore for attention." The dog in question, who recognizes only his name in that short speech, thumps his tail against the floor amicably, expression full of the sort of adoration only dogs can muster. "In any case, I run the Inner Districts, at least so far as my people are concerned and a great deal beyond them, too. As long as you guys aren't messing my turf up, I'm perfectly willing to be friends."
"Generally we *are,*" Rainer says dryly, turning a pointed look toward Czcibor. "But it's hard to help when someone falls out of the Hedge for the first time and doesn't even know what's real and what's not. Bad chance all around." A pause, and he considers Martin briefly before amending, "Or maybe good. I have no intention of messing up your turf. My concern is for things coming out of the Hedge that shouldn't... and from what you've said, it sounds we have something in common there."
Is it bad juju to say, when in a room with a werewolf and you're *not* one, that something just got your hackles up? HOPE NOT, because Czcibor's a little prickly for a second when Martin starts staring him down. He doesn't look away until Rainer speaks up, and then he actually looks *sheepish*. "I thought I *was* mortal. I didn't know. I didn't know *what* the hell was going on," he confirms. "And I'm not going home, and I'm not going back, but *I* don't plan on messing your turf up, either. So really-- yes." Pause. Look at Konrad.
Konrad scratches behind that ear again, meditative. (And with a momentary near-affectionate expression as Bruce tail-thumps.) "Like the man said, I live here. There's no sense in me making trouble." He regards Martin thoughtfully, and adds, "No harm in more noses to the wind, either."
"More noses to the wind means somebody might actually catch scent of something before it's too late." Martin says, somberly. If he notices Czcibor's attitude, he doesn't mention it, but then Martin has grown accustomed to being in a position of power and reminding the people around him *of* that position of power without the use of his voice. It's hard to train an Alpha wolf not to stare at people. "I don't know about being able to watch the Hedge actively, at least on my part, if only because I think if we *could*, I'd have heard about it by now. But if something gets over here, well. Don't hesitate to find me. My folks are *very* good at hunting, and putting shit down what needs to be put down. It's what we're born and bred to do."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rainer tells Martin, inclining his head solemnly to the other man. "And while you and your people might not ever need it, the same goes. I may not have been born and bred to it," he says, very seriously, "but it's what I'm made for now." Rainer, Martin and Czcibor may *both* be getting the impression, seems to have a thing for even exchanges.
"I would say let's make a pledge on it, make it official," notes Czcibor meditatively - apparently something's been percolating for a little bit there - "but would that even work?" He asks this of Rainer and Konrad, and then he tilts his head slightly in Martin's direction.
Konrad settles his hands to his lap, flexing them once idly before letting them still. "Watching the Hedge is our job -- well, mine, at least." He doesn't, this time, glance at Rainer or Czcibor. "We ought be able to help each other, if either of us could use it. But I hope you'll pardon me if I'm not minded," okay, *now* he turns toward Czcibor, "to outright pledge myself to joining hunts too quickly. That's how I wound up chasing cars in the first place."
"I'm not so sure I'm into something that sounds so *heavy* when you guys say it, anyway. You're going to have to satisfy yourself with my word that I'm not going to come for you in the middle of the night--provided you don't go spreading my secrets--and that if you need some help, I'll do my best to provide it. This is my home, and I am *exceptionally* protective of it. I'm sure you can understand." Martin flicks his eyes first to Konrad, and then to the others. "I can't guarantee I can go thundering to war every time someone blows a horn. But as for an alliance, at least, I think we've all sort of slantwise agreed to?" That hopeful smile looks altogether too youthful on Martin's face.
Rainer makes a bit of a 'hn' face at the suggestion of a pledge. "I'm with Konrad," he says presently, after Martin's spoken; "and you're right, it's a bit too heavy a thing to go entering into so soon after we've just met, without being altogether sure it won't run up against promises any of us has already made. We can agree to be good neighbors for now, and keep our mouths shut about one another's secrets, and that'll be enough for me for the time being."
Czcibor looks, at first, both mildly wary and disappointed, but he is clearly quickly mollified by the various explanations. "
So there's gothic arches in churches in really old cities. Like Vienna. And usually what you see on the other side of them matches what's on the other side of the arches around them. You know, you look through, you see more wall. Or a great big northex. Or *whatever*. The point is you generally don't look through and see trees and grass and open sky -- especially if it's overcast and raining and dark -- or *walking statues*.
There's really only the one walking statue. It's like some statue of some old-school army guy from a couple centuries ago up and got off his pedastal, all lead and dents and whatever, and is walking *at* the arch. Purposefully. Open, empty hands.
He darts the last couple of meters, eyes wide, and *whoosh* makes it through-- and then it's just an arch, and he's just a guy, wearing a uniform for no army alive, and he's not stopping, and in fact, he's about to plow into someone because he's not even *looking*, he's too shocked.
It's raining, and Martin is beginning to think that is is *always* raining in Vienna, his Southern California soul having already forgotten the snow and ice of winter and instead moved onto some sort of instinctive fear of mudslides and hatred for precipitation. This hatred is only exacerbated by the fact that he seems markedly unprepared for rain, moving through the streets with his plaid overshirt and his jeans and what hair sticks out past that fedora of his slicked down to his skin. He splashes through puddles and over curbs with a scowl on his face--until he's fairly sure that he's seeing through that same gray stone arch -- how MANY of those are there in Vienna ANYWAY -- is some place that is NOT raining, and his head jerks up, pupils spiraling out until there's no amber left, only black, and Martin has about half a second to consider this thing he is seeing before he's ploughed onto. Normally, he's a sturdy six-foot-four, if built like a crane, but this time he's taken just a bit off-guard, and he goes flying back onto his rear end, both hands going not to catch himself but to keep that fedora from making an escape. "Oi!"
There are, of course, always other people on the streets. Two of the nearer ones are walking together: two men in conversation. One of them, a fortyish, worn-looking man in patched clothing has his head turned. "Can find one for you. Can find several. Even in a city, there's space. It's a matter of time, nothing more. And time's what we've got." He lengthens his stride a little as they approach the arch -- and then pulls up abruptly to avoid joining the sudden collision in front of him. For just an instant his eyes widen almost as much as Martin's; then Konrad's expression shifts into a scowl, and he hunches over a little. To start offering people a hand up, see. "Look where you're going," he rumbles at the uniformed stranger. Helpful, isn't he?
The *other* other guy, the blond who looks a bit like someone left him out in the weather too long, less patched but also early-forty-something, does a brief and semi-surreptitious doubletake at the collision as it plays out practically on his toes, and then he, too, is moving to offer a hand up. "Anything broken?" is his dry contribution. Besides all the sanity in a ten-yard radius, he means?
The uniformed stranger is already picking himself up carefully off of Martin even as Konrad's reaching down to help, and he actually briefly shies away from Konrad when he looks at him, until what he /says/ processes. *Then* he talks: he's got a Polish accent, which might account for the processing time. German's not his first language. "I'm truly sorry! I didn't expect -- *are* you all right?" he asks Martin, taking Konrad's hand up with a look of apology. "You're real, aren't you? You're a real person. I didn't break you, did I?" Glance to Rainer, as he's brushing himself off and then looking surprised all over again. "Not even a dent. Oh they *move*. This -- what year is it?" The questions come out eager and tumbled, interspersed in the physical chaos, only adding to the level of what-the-fuck.
Once he's assured that his fedora isn't going anywhere, Martin reaches out to accept whomever's help has been offered, hauling himself back up to his full height in the soaking rain. "Thanks," He says, and even with that one word it's clear that German is not his own native language. He speaks sloppily, too nasal and with a shallow cant that's characteristic of Americans. "I..no, nothing's broken, I don't think, I'm fine." Puzzlement covers his features a few seconds later, and he pats himself down before giving a little look over his shoulder as if he expects to see something there. Canid cameras, perhaps. "I...think I'm a real person? I was last I checked. I didn't *think* that washed off." He glances again, with those oddly feral eyes of his, past the uniformed man this time, towards the building arch. "...was...I swore.." SO CONFUSED.
Konrad makes an impatient, unpleasant sound in his throat, a snarl trailing into a hint of growl. "You need a place to sit down and sleep off the worst of ... whatever this is." His eyes focus intently on the uniformed Pole. "And a change of clothes." There's a brief flicker of that otherwise intent gaze toward Martin. He does his best to time that for Martin's looking over his own shoulder. Then it's back to Czcibor. "... welcome back from the costume party. Doesn't look like you had much fun."
"Oh," is Rainer's deadpan comment, "I don't know about that." He pauses, takes another look at Czcibor, and adds, "Perhaps a bit too *much* fun. In any case, it is probably not doing any of us any good to go on standing out here in the rain..." He lets that sentence trail off in obvious suggestion.
...so, this is the part where the apparently drunk guy from what was apparently a costume party abruptly grabs Martin's arm and holds to it, eyes a little wide, eyeing Konrad and Rainer. "No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*." He pauses, breathing evening out a little bit, then glances sidelong up at Martin and lets go his arm. "Kid, let me know if I'm scaring you and I'll just run for it." The guy could be drunk, or could be touched in the head, or -- honestly, it could be they're all part of some weird scene. I mean, stuff happens. In cities.
"Did you just SNARL at me?" Martin says to Konrad, his eyebrows dropped against his amber eyes and his lips pursed together in an expression that would be almost comical, if there wasn't just the wrong amount of canny intention behind his irises. But then he's being clung to, and his eyebrows dart right back up towards his fedora, mouth opening to remind the drunk dude that just because *he* is full of alcohol doesn't mean he could ignore everyone *else's* personal space--but something clicks, after he's again let go, and he says, in a smallish voice that does not at all argue his case, "I'm not a kid. It's two-thousand and two. No one's going to make you go anywhere you don't want to be." As if this man, so obviously close to his childhood and so gangly-tall, can make decisions for anyone. He certainly speaks as if he expects people to listen.
"No," Konrad answers Martin. He jerks his head a little to one side, indicating Czcibor. "I snarled at *him*." He lowers his head to glare at the uniformed man a little better. "This is the world. There are laws here. One of them says 'if you stand out in the rain and the wind long enough without a coat on, you get cold and collapse.' So let's find somewhere *out* of the wind. And the cold. And the rain. Before we get washed right into the river." He's talking to Czcibor; he's watching Martin, wary. "Ever been to Vienna before?"
"Oh, holy God," Rainer sighs, and puts a hand briefly over his face. And then he drops it and, fixing each of the other men in turn with a sharp and authoritative look, says, "Everyone here is real, and this *is* the real world, and everyone here needs to calm down and get out of the rain. We may all go somewhere public, and I will pay for coffee, and I swear," this, very seriously, to Czcibor, "on my own true name, that neither one of us," a nod to Konrad, "will take you anywhere today that you don't consent, may I be cursed for a year and a day if it's not so. I'm Rainer. Can we go, please?"
Watching the uniformed man's face is like watching a pageant of expression. He goes from surprised disappointment at the year to relief at Martin's inexplicable air of authority, both with edginess underneath, and then the edginess comes to the forefront when Konrad's glaring at him, and his stance changes noticeably (defensive!), and then it abruptly deflates at the non sequitur of Konrad's last question; he's about to answer when Rainer asplodes in exasperation. And then he *actually* relaxes. "All right. And no, I've never been here before. I'm from Wroclaw..." trailing off, and then the man shakes his head. "...Kowalewicz. Pietrek. Lead the way."
"If you guys need a warm, dry place to talk about weird-ass things I doubt should really be discussed in the middle of the road," This is a hint! A very subtle hint! "I live on top of the Honest Mechanic, and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal to flag a cab down so you can talk out your 'laws' on the floor." Martin peers back at Konrad, reaching up to readjust his fedora on his head. "Or we could go for coffee and have everyone and their brother stare at us, whatever!" The American has an appropriately big mouth. His hands toss a little bit, but it's clear Martin has not written himself out of the equation of this craziness yet.
Konrad doesn't say a word. (Yay!) He just swings his head, looking to Rainer.
Once he's done wincing at Pietrek's name, anyhow.
"Up to you," Rainer tells Pietrek promptly, after a shuttered glance toward Martin at his offer. Since he *did* just swear to be cursed if he or Konrad tried to make the guy go anywhere he didn't want to.
After something of a pause, he adds, "Not in public is likely preferable." He says it just a little grudgingly; in public is *safer* in many respects, but Martin does have a point.
Pietrek pauses. He looks from Martin, whom he sees as much safer, to Rainer, who made him a promise -- Konrad is still scaring him, kind of -- and shrugs, blissfully ignorant of potentially breaking anyone's brains. "Wherever's closest."
Martin gestures almost wardingly with his hands, "I promise no one's going to jump you while you're at the Mechanic, I don't mean anyone harm. It's just folks tend to call the looney wagon first and ask questions later, you know?" He looks down to Pietrek, his mouth pressing to a vague line, "Well, I live in the Inner Districts, so the Mechanic is a bit of a ways, but it's really not a long taxi ride, I can cover it. It's *really* a better idea if you're ...how should I say, jittery? It's better to get that out in private than disrupt some coffee bar with it." He grins, then, his expression wide and affable. He seems so *reasonable*, right now, like such a friendly, easy-going face. If no one complains, he'll even hail a cab.
The cab ride, as promised, does not take long, although it does suspiciously draw the small group of men into the seedier, more dirty part of town. The Inner Districts are not, exactly, the nicest-looking places in the world, but it's home for Martin, and through the bars the guard the high-mounted windows of the warehouse that advertises itself as 'The Honest Mechanic', one can see curtains and potted plants.
The inside of the warehouse, visible once Martin removes the key from the inside brim of his hat and unlocks the door, proves that it is no longer honest nor a mechanic's, having clearly been converted to a living space-slash-run-for the pair of large, thick-furred dogs napping in the corner-slash-practice area for what appears to be a rock band, judging by the electronic equipment, instruments and other sundries scattered over the stage that dominates one side of the room. There are sofas and over-stuffed chairs that abound, which Martin gestures to as he pulls the door closed behind his guests and, quietly, locks it. The dogs in the corner look up, and one 'wuffs' half-heartedly, but they don't move.
Instead, it's Martin moving, tossing one hand towards the mini-fridge as he goes to the edge of the stage, to hop up and sit there with his long legs dangling down. "There's water and beer and God knows what else in the fridge, help yourselves. As for me," He lifts his fedora off of his head, so casually, flipping it through his hands, "I'd be happy with knowing what the *hell* was on the other side of that arch." Czcibor the Absent, he's looking at you.
The Pole looks decidedly unimpressed at the locking of the door, but doesn't say anything about it. "A lot of stupid wars fought for a lot of stupid people with too much power." He looks uncertain, then glances at Konrad and Rainer, almost defiantly. He looks back at Martin. "Otherworld?"
Rainer glances toward Konrad briefly at this, but mostly he looks resigned. At this juncture, it seems, pretending to be completely normal is just not going to happen, if only because at least two people here are refusing to let it. What can you do? He inclines his head toward Czcibor in something like commiserations. "Nowhere anyone sane wants to be," he says.
Konrad, on the other hand, either doesn't notice the locking of the door or doesn't care. His attention's over in the corner, on the dogs. No, there are no low noises in his throat this time. Conciliatory is more the tone of the moment. Apparently German Shepherds rate higher on the etiquette scale than, uh, Americans. After Martin's seated, Konrad drops himself into a corner of one of the sofas... one with the least random dog hair. He drips on it. He doesn't particularly seem to care. "Hell's on the *other* side of it. That's just the borderlands." He regards Czcibor gravely for a moment. "You're in Vienna, it's two thousand two, and Pietrek Kowale-- I can't even *say* that -- just lost against South Korea in the first round of the World Cup. Sorry."
"You're not talking about the hisil." It comes out more a statement of fact than a question, for all that Martin's eyebrows lift as he looks between the other three, but the most remarkable thing about that statement is the last word. It simply isn't *human*, there's something feral and ancient and powerful about it, and it snarls as it comes out of the American's throat, picking up a bassimo shudder from, apparently, out of nowhere. "Or are you?" He considers the others carefully, his eyes narrow and distant.
There's this moment of 'ah!' realization and understanding as Pietrek catches Rainer's glance. The commiseration is shared. And then, there is a classic doubletake, as the man looks at Konrad with his calm and apologetic statement; he stares. "What? Shit! What? Really? Shit! How?!" He pauses again, then holds up his hands, looks away, takes a very visible step back. He does not sit. He just drips where he's standing. A quick flip of his gaze to Martin, and he shrugs. "I've never heard the word. For all I know, it could be." Then he's eyeing Konrad with a combination of suspicion and speculation. "I'm not sure what's harder to believe. That I'm not actually missing, and am on the national team. Or that we *lost* to *South Korea*!"
Rainer - who did *not* sit down, but is instead remaining on his feet throughout all of this so far - cocks a brow at Martin, and watches him with unconcealed wary scrutiny for some moments before he points out, bluntly, "You have us at a disadvantage. If you're wanting a full explanation, perhaps you should consider making it an even exchange of information, rather than talking your way into a debt it will be difficult to pay back."
On Konrad's side? German Shepherds no longer outrank Americans on the *attentiion* scale,anyhow. His eyes snap to Martin at that single word, and remain there: not *quite* a challenge. Though his fingertips are digging into the couch cushions a little with the effort of keeping it that way. Further detail about South Korea may have to wait.
"Talking myself into a debt!" Martin laughs around the words, then, a sharp and barking sound that rings through the Mechanic and clearly shows his amusement. It's not a pure thing, but worldly and sly. "What, indeed, would you find an 'even' exchange of information?" He says, still amused, before his eyebrows dart upwards. "But I have been rude, at least half of you have given names. I'm Martin, you may have *that* for free. Martin Grey, even." His eyes dart to Czcibor first, casually, as he adds, "If you haven't heard the word, I'd wager you haven't been there." Then his amber eyes settle on Konrad, and something straightens in his spine, that rapscallion grin of his going still around the edges. "Watch yourself."
Someone's apparently waking up -- it could be the danger, the tones, the sheer testosterone -- who knows. Either way, Pietrek drops his hands to his sides and looks square at Martin. "I don't know how you can make *him* react like that, Mr Grey, but these men are here because of me, and an oath was made. I take it from your continued lack of reaction to our appearances that you either can't *see* what I can see, or you'd know the answers to the questions you're asking, which means you *do* want information. I apologise for bringing you into the middle of this--" He looks to Konrad and Rainer, quickly, "--and to you for putting you both on the spot. But--" Now he stands so he can see all of them in his field of vision. "--there has been no violence, and for Christ's sake, there shouldn't be. I *was* born in Wroclaw, and I lived there until I was sixteen. I was a footballer. I couldn't honestly tell you what I am now, or where I've been, or what I've seen, because I don't know or don't understand. What I *do* know is that *I* am the one who owes you for protection and hospitality; I am the cause of this... situation. They are *not*." The man sticks out his chin -- is he for real? -- and finally crosses his arms. "In other words, he *is* watching himself. If it's not enough, I respectfully acknowledge my debt to you and ask that I may repay it at another time. And I will leave. With them."
Rainer's reply to Martin is - rather cut off by Czcibor, and although he's spent most of this experience looking rather guarded, there's definitely something of a change in the way he regards Czcibor, listening to that.
The result is that, when he does add his own response, it's in a more neutral tone than it might otherwise have been. "As he says," with an inclination of his head, again, to Czcibor, although he's watching Martin again now. "I can't speak for anyone but myself - but for myself, I have too much to lose to go answering such questions without receiving assurances in return."
Konrad meets Martin's eyes. This may be a tactical error. But it's only for a moment, long enough to gauge; then he drops his head slightly with a puzzled expression. While Czcibor's talking, he scans the rest of the room, searching, and settles again looking at the dogs; then, without making any *sudden* moves, he eases himself down off the couch. Onto all fours, because at this point, it's *painfully* obvious that he might as well. Then there's another repetition of his 'talk to someone, indicate another' trick ... but this time, it's the *dogs* he's talking to, and the little twist of his head indicates Martin. And 'talking' involves an almost puppylike yip and inquisitive whine.
"No one's being violent." Martin says, in a tone of voice that's almost reasonable, unflapped as he so often seems. "I'm not threatening anyone, I'm just pointing out that I can see what he's doing, there, and there's no need for him to do it. Not in my living room, where it's going to get Bruce and Akos all riled." His gaze glances towards the dogs in the corner, before settling on Pietrek again. "What I see are three men who, like myself, are very likely *very* different beneath the surface. What I see is someone who may or may not have an ability that, given it's voluntary, he ought to be *far* more careful in using where the plebians can see it. What I see are three men who are welcome to leave any moment they wish to, if they find my hospitality and curiousity too much to bear. I see people who take words are far more face value than is healthy. I hear a lot of talk of equal trade, so for what it's worth, I was born in Los Angeles and came to Vienna when I was seventeen, to attend University. That did not work out as well as I had hoped." But then Konrad is moving, and Martin's attention is most definitely on him, eyebrows raised, expression more curious than anything else.
The newcomer to the REAL WORLD, the one in the crazy oldschool uniform, gets a sort of flat expression at Martin's reasonableness. Only at the start, though, it's cool. It passes, and is replaced with a pleasant affability that's hard to tell if it's only a mask. He drops his arms again and clasps them behind his back, then looks -- without surprise -- at Konrad. Politely, he waits until -that- conversation is over before he replies to Martin, "Words hold power."
After another, brief exchange of sounds and cocking of heads, Konrad straightens in turn ... well, up to one knee, at least. He glances back over his shoulder, toward Rainer. "It's all right," he says; then shrugs. "Half all right, anyhow. He's not one of *them*." Which, to judge by the far-easier body language, is what had him stressed from that first Word Martin used. "Can't tell more than that, but anything else is safer." Then he reorients on Martin again. "I'm called Konrad Maier. I came to Vienna late last year, in no better shape than the man here did. I don't know either what the thing you named is, or whether it's another word for what you saw."
"Oh, certainly," Martin says, and that sharp, long grin is back across his face. "But that does not make them true." He directs his attention to Konrad, then, considering him, and the dogs, and then Konrad a second time, thoughtfully. "The language of men would call it 'the Shadow', but that's not the best of names for it. Too innaccurate and accurate all at once. Its denizens, and my people, call it the hisil." He shrugs, easily, his gaze sweeping over the rest of them. "I meant what I said about my intentions. If you wish to go, the door is right there, I only lock it out of habit. But I think perhaps this could be an interesting conversation, if we're willing to talk freely. I know you are not plain humans, but I know you are not my people, and I do not think you are of the others I know." He is *intrigued*.
Rainer looks somewhat more relaxed at Konrad's words - enough so to make it fairly clear that the '*them*' that Konrad was referring to - whatever 'they' are - was perhaps also his primary concern. which is not to say he doesn't still seem kind of wary. "You may be right," he agrees evenly. "And we could all benefit from this, maybe. All I ask is that, if we're to speak openly about what *we* are, that you be willing to do the same. I think that's fair enough."
The uniformed Pole spreads his hands, then, and bows his head slightly. When he looks up again, he's grinning. "All right, then. What he said," he gestures at Rainer, and then finally makes for Martin's fridge. In for a penny, in for a pound -- and there's *beer* in there. And stuff. And, -- that can't have been a coo, no guy that looks like that could coo, but it was *quite* the pleased sound. "Real food! And actually, what -do- you see when you look at me? I look human? We all look normal?"
Normal or not, at the moment Konrad looks ... pained. It's the 'we were never that young' expression. Unmistakably. "We all look normal. That's why the driver didn't blink. And why we weren't being chased down the road with pitchforks and torches." And yes, he's still not growling. There's a slow nod back to Martin, and he adds, "Freely enough, but private. We can't make you unsee what you've seen." Other people might be able to, but not them. Ahem. "But I think neither your people nor ours would be glad of things spread *too* freely." ... and that's when he siits back down. Er. Up. Whichever has him on cushions instead of floor. Apart from the wince at Czcibor's sheer enthusiasm, Konrad continues to seem a good bit calmer. After all, Martin's dogs vouched for him. Right?
Martin inclines his head, at Rainer's words, calmly, and spreads his hands through the air, his fedora in one of them. "I have Oaths I *have* made to others who mean a great deal more to me than you do, I will be frank. But for what I can tell, I am willing to share. In the name of friendship." He considers Czcibor carefully, putting his hat into his lap and folding his hands under it after running one through the crazed mop of his hair. "I see men. Normal men, by *appearances*. As for myself, I can only really show you half of what I am at a time. Feel free to help yourself to the kung pao chicken in there, by the way, but be warned, it's got a hell of a kick." The aside to Czcibor is dropped almost casually into the conversation, and he smiles in a fashion that makes him seem, for a moment, far older than the twenty or twenty-one his face usually implies. "I have been at this a long, long time. I know where the lines are. And, I think, my people will forgive me my trespasses." There's a certain wry tone to his voice, there, that goes unexplained.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair." Here he pauses, turning another sidelong glance toward Konrad, and then, finally, he moves to take a seat. Sitting kind of on the edge of the cushion, granted, but hey, it's progress. "What you saw, before," he says, "we call the Hedge."
"Pitchforks and torches? Really?" Pause. "--I'm just going to listen for a bit. And see if the chicken will kill me," says Pietrek, taking said leftovers out of the fridge with a beer, and taking a seat more or less straddling a chair, beer opened and put carefully on the floor next to the chair. He takes a bite of kung POW, and blinks. His expression? Very very clearly, 'wow i can has tastebuds! and they are burning! AWESOME!'
Konrad glances back at Czcibor, and flips his head pointedly, then shakes it.
(... sadly, only two out of three spectators can see that this actually flops his ear across his nose and very nearly his eyes, and the shake of head is necessary to get it out of the *way* again.)
"It's a borderland, a place between places," Konrad picks up when Rainer finishes. "There are things that live past it. They steal people, sometimes. Some of us make it back." He nods (more carefully) to Czcibor again. "Most don't."
"Do you live in the *Gauntlet?*" Martin says, astonished, for a moment, before he shakes his head, pushing his fingers through his hair, briefly. "I get ahead of myself again. So I mentioned the hisil. The Shadow, where the spirits live. The Gauntlet seperates it from this world, it must be passed through to go from one to the other. I didn't think anything *lived* there. Just...beyond it." This is confusing for him, people are threatening his well-established world view!
Rainer looks dubious. "I'm not sure it's the same thing," he says. "In any case, we live *here,* not in the Hedge - the Hedge is dangerous. The things that live there are... hobgoblins. Hedge-beasts. There are safe havens, if you can find them, but without one, to be in the Hedge is to be that much closer to the Others." The way he says it makes it very clear that the 'Others' are A Bad Thing.
It's a miracle Pietrek doesn't crack up laughing at Konrad's ears. It'd be kind of like laughing at Eeyore, only with more wounded dignity potentially involved. "I *think* I was with my entire regiment. I think. I may have left them in the box. I don't think I would have left without them..." He trails off. Then, "Safe havens?" He looks dubious, and is suddenly talking around a mouthful of food. "The only thing safe about any of that is staying the hell away." He washes it down quickly with some of that beer, and for a moment he looks like he's about to bliss out. Then he's okay. Really.
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
Martin shrugs, almost philosophically, watching Konrad with canny amber eyes. "Yes, well, things like this have an incredible tendency to literally blunder right into me. And now I *do* know, don't I? They're on the horizon *now* even if they hadn't been." He reaches up, to grasp the hair at the back of his head, and give it a brief, thoughtful tug. "No, Spirits come over for a lot of reasons. Well, one of two reasons, really, but it manifests in many ways. It doesn't really matter what they are." He considers the others, mouth quirking to one side. "So basically the gist of it is, these Others come and kidnap folks, and diddle them beyond the Hedge, and when folks get free and come back, they're not the same any more."
To this, Rainer can't help but laugh, just a little, although it's dry and not especially humorous, a short 'heh' sound. "That is the gist of it, yes," he agrees wryly, "boiled down. Although I'd say it's more *if* they get free and come back, rather than *when.* We're the lucky ones."
"And... I was going to say, how many unsolved missing persons reports are there a year? How many go missing that no one would even notice? But then-- I'm not even missing, *am* I," adds the Pole grumpily, now working on the beer. "I should change my name."
"They have been." The shaking of Konrad's head becomes an equally slow nod. " 'Don't go into the woods by yourself, there's a hag who eats children, and adults can't see her.' 'Don't go dancing by yourself with strangers; you won't come home again.' 'The little boy said, before he died, he saw a king and the king's daughters, but his father never saw anything.' Everyone hears the stories. Most people just don't listen. And then," another nod to the Pole in question, "some of us don't go missing. And some of us just get found dead."
"Well, it's easier to say things in a hundred words or less when you boil them down." Martin observes, releasing the hair he was previously tugging on. "Yeah, those stories can apply to almost *anything* that goes bump in the night. I wish people would listen to them more often, really." He rolls his eyes, then, the bright color flickering before he settles his hands back in his lap. "But it seems I've been asking lopsided questions. I sort of said I'd try to keep the trade equitable, didn't I?" There's a brief wince, which is Martin's invitation for them to ask questions of *him*, if he so desires.
"You did," Rainer agrees. "And I personally at least would like to know - since you're not one of us, and you're clearly not one of the masses living in ignorant bliss... what is it that you are?" He does, oddly enough, seem a bit less uptight about this whole business by this point - perhaps because Martin's willing to give tit for tat, perhaps simply out of having resigned himself to the situation, perhaps a little of both.
"How could you tell I was an officer? I've been an idiot all night--" Czcibor asides quietly to Konrad while Rainer's asking. He pauses. "Oh. Officers. Idiots. Right." Then his attention is once more *fully on the topic at hand*. He crosses his arms over the chair back, has a little more beer. And he looks -very- interested at the upcoming answer to Rainer's question.
Konrad snorts quietly at Czcibor's conclusion, but ... other than that, keeps quiet. Rainer's got his question. Konrad's got his guesses, but it's Martin's decision exactly what and how much he's going to spill.
"I go bump in the night." Martin says, and for a second it seems like he might leave it there, his grin sharp and full of teeth. "My people call themselves Uratha, but I wouldn't use that word lightly, or with someone you do not know, it's likely to get you killed before they ask questions. I am, amongst other far more mundane things, a werewolf." He says this with all seriousness, despite his smooth probably-was-a-teenager-last-week features, his apparent inability to grow a complete beard, his rangey and far from intimidating frame.
Rainer shoots a brief, indignant sidelong look at Czcibor. What was that, now? But Martin's talking, so it's only a momentary look before all of his attention is back on the younger man.
He cocks an eyebrow at the word 'werewolf,' but doesn't look particularly skeptical. Instead - perhaps tellingly - he glances over at Konrad. And then, looking back to Martin, he says, "Huh." Just that. He's processing.
Czcibor grins, spreads hands at Rainer, then blinks at Martin. He, too, looks at Konrad, and then back at Martin, and then he starts laughing, beer-free hand over his face. "Sorry. The dramatic irony from before is only now hitting me."
Somewhere in all that exchange of looks, Konrad explains simply, "One of the dogs mentioned it." Which probably doesn't help Czcibor stop laughing any.
The tall American blinks, a few times, before his mouth quirks into a more rueful smile. "Well, that's the first time anyone's LAUGHED when I said that." Then his eyes dart to the dogs, and Martin raises his eyebrows. "I see they are giving out privledged information, now." BRUCE, you're on NOTICE.
Rainer, apparently the sourpuss of the bunch thus far, end up looking a little amused himself, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's - ah - a bit difficult to explain, since you can't see." He looks apologetic, but he doesn't follow that comment with an effort toward explanation, either - that's Konrad's story to tell. Or not. "It's safe to say we're... a bit inured."
"--" Still laughing. Quietly. Head on his forearm on the back of the chair he's in. Sorry. Czcibor finally takes a deep breath, then finishes off the beer and puts the bottle down carefully next to the empty kung pao chicken container. "So that's-- your people, they're werewolves." Face value. But then again, Konrad can talk to Martin's dogs. Again with the irrepressible grin. "I thought you were--" He glances at Rainer and Konrad again, and manages to repress the irrepressible. "I gather it's good that you were not, in fact, a normal human."
Konrad spreads his hands, then quite deliberately scratches himself behind an ear. "Think he had the idea I was one of your people, too. For some reason." Like the on-all-fours and chatting in their language thing. A bit inured. Yes.
"Yes, we're werewolves." Martin says, his eyebrows lifting as he fixes Czcibor with a flat, intense gaze. "I don't see what's so funny about it. I can show you, if you think I'm shitting you. Thought I was, what, a mortal? I should hope you'd have a bit more care with your tongue around them." Then he flickers that attention to Konrad once more, his shoulders uneven in his shrug. "I should have figured at least Bruce for a big mouthed doofus anyway. I love them to death but Bruce is sort of a whore for attention." The dog in question, who recognizes only his name in that short speech, thumps his tail against the floor amicably, expression full of the sort of adoration only dogs can muster. "In any case, I run the Inner Districts, at least so far as my people are concerned and a great deal beyond them, too. As long as you guys aren't messing my turf up, I'm perfectly willing to be friends."
"Generally we *are,*" Rainer says dryly, turning a pointed look toward Czcibor. "But it's hard to help when someone falls out of the Hedge for the first time and doesn't even know what's real and what's not. Bad chance all around." A pause, and he considers Martin briefly before amending, "Or maybe good. I have no intention of messing up your turf. My concern is for things coming out of the Hedge that shouldn't... and from what you've said, it sounds we have something in common there."
Is it bad juju to say, when in a room with a werewolf and you're *not* one, that something just got your hackles up? HOPE NOT, because Czcibor's a little prickly for a second when Martin starts staring him down. He doesn't look away until Rainer speaks up, and then he actually looks *sheepish*. "I thought I *was* mortal. I didn't know. I didn't know *what* the hell was going on," he confirms. "And I'm not going home, and I'm not going back, but *I* don't plan on messing your turf up, either. So really-- yes." Pause. Look at Konrad.
Konrad scratches behind that ear again, meditative. (And with a momentary near-affectionate expression as Bruce tail-thumps.) "Like the man said, I live here. There's no sense in me making trouble." He regards Martin thoughtfully, and adds, "No harm in more noses to the wind, either."
"More noses to the wind means somebody might actually catch scent of something before it's too late." Martin says, somberly. If he notices Czcibor's attitude, he doesn't mention it, but then Martin has grown accustomed to being in a position of power and reminding the people around him *of* that position of power without the use of his voice. It's hard to train an Alpha wolf not to stare at people. "I don't know about being able to watch the Hedge actively, at least on my part, if only because I think if we *could*, I'd have heard about it by now. But if something gets over here, well. Don't hesitate to find me. My folks are *very* good at hunting, and putting shit down what needs to be put down. It's what we're born and bred to do."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rainer tells Martin, inclining his head solemnly to the other man. "And while you and your people might not ever need it, the same goes. I may not have been born and bred to it," he says, very seriously, "but it's what I'm made for now." Rainer, Martin and Czcibor may *both* be getting the impression, seems to have a thing for even exchanges.
"I would say let's make a pledge on it, make it official," notes Czcibor meditatively - apparently something's been percolating for a little bit there - "but would that even work?" He asks this of Rainer and Konrad, and then he tilts his head slightly in Martin's direction.
Konrad settles his hands to his lap, flexing them once idly before letting them still. "Watching the Hedge is our job -- well, mine, at least." He doesn't, this time, glance at Rainer or Czcibor. "We ought be able to help each other, if either of us could use it. But I hope you'll pardon me if I'm not minded," okay, *now* he turns toward Czcibor, "to outright pledge myself to joining hunts too quickly. That's how I wound up chasing cars in the first place."
"I'm not so sure I'm into something that sounds so *heavy* when you guys say it, anyway. You're going to have to satisfy yourself with my word that I'm not going to come for you in the middle of the night--provided you don't go spreading my secrets--and that if you need some help, I'll do my best to provide it. This is my home, and I am *exceptionally* protective of it. I'm sure you can understand." Martin flicks his eyes first to Konrad, and then to the others. "I can't guarantee I can go thundering to war every time someone blows a horn. But as for an alliance, at least, I think we've all sort of slantwise agreed to?" That hopeful smile looks altogether too youthful on Martin's face.
Rainer makes a bit of a 'hn' face at the suggestion of a pledge. "I'm with Konrad," he says presently, after Martin's spoken; "and you're right, it's a bit too heavy a thing to go entering into so soon after we've just met, without being altogether sure it won't run up against promises any of us has already made. We can agree to be good neighbors for now, and keep our mouths shut about one another's secrets, and that'll be enough for me for the time being."
Czcibor looks, at first, both mildly wary and disappointed, but he is clearly quickly mollified by the various explanations. "
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<good neighbors,>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
My first RP on Vienna. Czcibor falls out of the Hedge onto Martin, and Konrad and Rainer have to do damage control.
<lj-cut text="'No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*.'">
So there's gothic arches in churches in really old cities. Like Vienna. And usually what you see on the other side of them matches what's on the other side of the arches around them. You know, you look through, you see more wall. Or a great big northex. Or *whatever*. The point is you generally don't look through and see trees and grass and open sky -- especially if it's overcast and raining and dark -- or *walking statues*.
There's really only the one walking statue. It's like some statue of some old-school army guy from a couple centuries ago up and got off his pedastal, all lead and dents and whatever, and is walking *at* the arch. Purposefully. Open, empty hands.
He darts the last couple of meters, eyes wide, and *whoosh* makes it through-- and then it's just an arch, and he's just a guy, wearing a uniform for no army alive, and he's not stopping, and in fact, he's about to plow into someone because he's not even *looking*, he's too shocked.
It's raining, and Martin is beginning to think that is is *always* raining in Vienna, his Southern California soul having already forgotten the snow and ice of winter and instead moved onto some sort of instinctive fear of mudslides and hatred for precipitation. This hatred is only exacerbated by the fact that he seems markedly unprepared for rain, moving through the streets with his plaid overshirt and his jeans and what hair sticks out past that fedora of his slicked down to his skin. He splashes through puddles and over curbs with a scowl on his face--until he's fairly sure that he's seeing through that same gray stone arch -- how MANY of those are there in Vienna ANYWAY -- is some place that is NOT raining, and his head jerks up, pupils spiraling out until there's no amber left, only black, and Martin has about half a second to consider this thing he is seeing before he's ploughed onto. Normally, he's a sturdy six-foot-four, if built like a crane, but this time he's taken just a bit off-guard, and he goes flying back onto his rear end, both hands going not to catch himself but to keep that fedora from making an escape. "Oi!"
There are, of course, always other people on the streets. Two of the nearer ones are walking together: two men in conversation. One of them, a fortyish, worn-looking man in patched clothing has his head turned. "Can find one for you. Can find several. Even in a city, there's space. It's a matter of time, nothing more. And time's what we've got." He lengthens his stride a little as they approach the arch -- and then pulls up abruptly to avoid joining the sudden collision in front of him. For just an instant his eyes widen almost as much as Martin's; then Konrad's expression shifts into a scowl, and he hunches over a little. To start offering people a hand up, see. "Look where you're going," he rumbles at the uniformed stranger. Helpful, isn't he?
The *other* other guy, the blond who looks a bit like someone left him out in the weather too long, less patched but also early-forty-something, does a brief and semi-surreptitious doubletake at the collision as it plays out practically on his toes, and then he, too, is moving to offer a hand up. "Anything broken?" is his dry contribution. Besides all the sanity in a ten-yard radius, he means?
The uniformed stranger is already picking himself up carefully off of Martin even as Konrad's reaching down to help, and he actually briefly shies away from Konrad when he looks at him, until what he /says/ processes. *Then* he talks: he's got a Polish accent, which might account for the processing time. German's not his first language. "I'm truly sorry! I didn't expect -- *are* you all right?" he asks Martin, taking Konrad's hand up with a look of apology. "You're real, aren't you? You're a real person. I didn't break you, did I?" Glance to Rainer, as he's brushing himself off and then looking surprised all over again. "Not even a dent. Oh they *move*. This -- what year is it?" The questions come out eager and tumbled, interspersed in the physical chaos, only adding to the level of what-the-fuck.
Once he's assured that his fedora isn't going anywhere, Martin reaches out to accept whomever's help has been offered, hauling himself back up to his full height in the soaking rain. "Thanks," He says, and even with that one word it's clear that German is not his own native language. He speaks sloppily, too nasal and with a shallow cant that's characteristic of Americans. "I..no, nothing's broken, I don't think, I'm fine." Puzzlement covers his features a few seconds later, and he pats himself down before giving a little look over his shoulder as if he expects to see something there. Canid cameras, perhaps. "I...think I'm a real person? I was last I checked. I didn't *think* that washed off." He glances again, with those oddly feral eyes of his, past the uniformed man this time, towards the building arch. "...was...I swore.." SO CONFUSED.
Konrad makes an impatient, unpleasant sound in his throat, a snarl trailing into a hint of growl. "You need a place to sit down and sleep off the worst of ... whatever this is." His eyes focus intently on the uniformed Pole. "And a change of clothes." There's a brief flicker of that otherwise intent gaze toward Martin. He does his best to time that for Martin's looking over his own shoulder. Then it's back to Czcibor. "... welcome back from the costume party. Doesn't look like you had much fun."
"Oh," is Rainer's deadpan comment, "I don't know about that." He pauses, takes another look at Czcibor, and adds, "Perhaps a bit too *much* fun. In any case, it is probably not doing any of us any good to go on standing out here in the rain..." He lets that sentence trail off in obvious suggestion.
...so, this is the part where the apparently drunk guy from what was apparently a costume party abruptly grabs Martin's arm and holds to it, eyes a little wide, eyeing Konrad and Rainer. "No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*." He pauses, breathing evening out a little bit, then glances sidelong up at Martin and lets go his arm. "Kid, let me know if I'm scaring you and I'll just run for it." The guy could be drunk, or could be touched in the head, or -- honestly, it could be they're all part of some weird scene. I mean, stuff happens. In cities.
"Did you just SNARL at me?" Martin says to Konrad, his eyebrows dropped against his amber eyes and his lips pursed together in an expression that would be almost comical, if there wasn't just the wrong amount of canny intention behind his irises. But then he's being clung to, and his eyebrows dart right back up towards his fedora, mouth opening to remind the drunk dude that just because *he* is full of alcohol doesn't mean he could ignore everyone *else's* personal space--but something clicks, after he's again let go, and he says, in a smallish voice that does not at all argue his case, "I'm not a kid. It's two-thousand and two. No one's going to make you go anywhere you don't want to be." As if this man, so obviously close to his childhood and so gangly-tall, can make decisions for anyone. He certainly speaks as if he expects people to listen.
"No," Konrad answers Martin. He jerks his head a little to one side, indicating Czcibor. "I snarled at *him*." He lowers his head to glare at the uniformed man a little better. "This is the world. There are laws here. One of them says 'if you stand out in the rain and the wind long enough without a coat on, you get cold and collapse.' So let's find somewhere *out* of the wind. And the cold. And the rain. Before we get washed right into the river." He's talking to Czcibor; he's watching Martin, wary. "Ever been to Vienna before?"
"Oh, holy God," Rainer sighs, and puts a hand briefly over his face. And then he drops it and, fixing each of the other men in turn with a sharp and authoritative look, says, "Everyone here is real, and this *is* the real world, and everyone here needs to calm down and get out of the rain. We may all go somewhere public, and I will pay for coffee, and I swear," this, very seriously, to Czcibor, "on my own true name, that neither one of us," a nod to Konrad, "will take you anywhere today that you don't consent, may I be cursed for a year and a day if it's not so. I'm Rainer. Can we go, please?"
Watching the uniformed man's face is like watching a pageant of expression. He goes from surprised disappointment at the year to relief at Martin's inexplicable air of authority, both with edginess underneath, and then the edginess comes to the forefront when Konrad's glaring at him, and his stance changes noticeably (defensive!), and then it abruptly deflates at the non sequitur of Konrad's last question; he's about to answer when Rainer asplodes in exasperation. And then he *actually* relaxes. "All right. And no, I've never been here before. I'm from Wroclaw..." trailing off, and then the man shakes his head. "...Kowalewicz. Pietrek. Lead the way."
"If you guys need a warm, dry place to talk about weird-ass things I doubt should really be discussed in the middle of the road," This is a hint! A very subtle hint! "I live on top of the Honest Mechanic, and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal to flag a cab down so you can talk out your 'laws' on the floor." Martin peers back at Konrad, reaching up to readjust his fedora on his head. "Or we could go for coffee and have everyone and their brother stare at us, whatever!" The American has an appropriately big mouth. His hands toss a little bit, but it's clear Martin has not written himself out of the equation of this craziness yet.
Konrad doesn't say a word. (Yay!) He just swings his head, looking to Rainer.
Once he's done wincing at Pietrek's name, anyhow.
"Up to you," Rainer tells Pietrek promptly, after a shuttered glance toward Martin at his offer. Since he *did* just swear to be cursed if he or Konrad tried to make the guy go anywhere he didn't want to.
After something of a pause, he adds, "Not in public is likely preferable." He says it just a little grudgingly; in public is *safer* in many respects, but Martin does have a point.
Pietrek pauses. He looks from Martin, whom he sees as much safer, to Rainer, who made him a promise -- Konrad is still scaring him, kind of -- and shrugs, blissfully ignorant of potentially breaking anyone's brains. "Wherever's closest."
Martin gestures almost wardingly with his hands, "I promise no one's going to jump you while you're at the Mechanic, I don't mean anyone harm. It's just folks tend to call the looney wagon first and ask questions later, you know?" He looks down to Pietrek, his mouth pressing to a vague line, "Well, I live in the Inner Districts, so the Mechanic is a bit of a ways, but it's really not a long taxi ride, I can cover it. It's *really* a better idea if you're ...how should I say, jittery? It's better to get that out in private than disrupt some coffee bar with it." He grins, then, his expression wide and affable. He seems so *reasonable*, right now, like such a friendly, easy-going face. If no one complains, he'll even hail a cab.
The cab ride, as promised, does not take long, although it does suspiciously draw the small group of men into the seedier, more dirty part of town. The Inner Districts are not, exactly, the nicest-looking places in the world, but it's home for Martin, and through the bars the guard the high-mounted windows of the warehouse that advertises itself as 'The Honest Mechanic', one can see curtains and potted plants.
The inside of the warehouse, visible once Martin removes the key from the inside brim of his hat and unlocks the door, proves that it is no longer honest nor a mechanic's, having clearly been converted to a living space-slash-run-for the pair of large, thick-furred dogs napping in the corner-slash-practice area for what appears to be a rock band, judging by the electronic equipment, instruments and other sundries scattered over the stage that dominates one side of the room. There are sofas and over-stuffed chairs that abound, which Martin gestures to as he pulls the door closed behind his guests and, quietly, locks it. The dogs in the corner look up, and one 'wuffs' half-heartedly, but they don't move.
Instead, it's Martin moving, tossing one hand towards the mini-fridge as he goes to the edge of the stage, to hop up and sit there with his long legs dangling down. "There's water and beer and God knows what else in the fridge, help yourselves. As for me," He lifts his fedora off of his head, so casually, flipping it through his hands, "I'd be happy with knowing what the *hell* was on the other side of that arch." Czcibor the Absent, he's looking at you.
The Pole looks decidedly unimpressed at the locking of the door, but doesn't say anything about it. "A lot of stupid wars fought for a lot of stupid people with too much power." He looks uncertain, then glances at Konrad and Rainer, almost defiantly. He looks back at Martin. "Otherworld?"
Rainer glances toward Konrad briefly at this, but mostly he looks resigned. At this juncture, it seems, pretending to be completely normal is just not going to happen, if only because at least two people here are refusing to let it. What can you do? He inclines his head toward Czcibor in something like commiserations. "Nowhere anyone sane wants to be," he says.
Konrad, on the other hand, either doesn't notice the locking of the door or doesn't care. His attention's over in the corner, on the dogs. No, there are no low noises in his throat this time. Conciliatory is more the tone of the moment. Apparently German Shepherds rate higher on the etiquette scale than, uh, Americans. After Martin's seated, Konrad drops himself into a corner of one of the sofas... one with the least random dog hair. He drips on it. He doesn't particularly seem to care. "Hell's on the *other* side of it. That's just the borderlands." He regards Czcibor gravely for a moment. "You're in Vienna, it's two thousand two, and Pietrek Kowale-- I can't even *say* that -- just lost against South Korea in the first round of the World Cup. Sorry."
"You're not talking about the hisil." It comes out more a statement of fact than a question, for all that Martin's eyebrows lift as he looks between the other three, but the most remarkable thing about that statement is the last word. It simply isn't *human*, there's something feral and ancient and powerful about it, and it snarls as it comes out of the American's throat, picking up a bassimo shudder from, apparently, out of nowhere. "Or are you?" He considers the others carefully, his eyes narrow and distant.
There's this moment of 'ah!' realization and understanding as Pietrek catches Rainer's glance. The commiseration is shared. And then, there is a classic doubletake, as the man looks at Konrad with his calm and apologetic statement; he stares. "What? Shit! What? Really? Shit! How?!" He pauses again, then holds up his hands, looks away, takes a very visible step back. He does not sit. He just drips where he's standing. A quick flip of his gaze to Martin, and he shrugs. "I've never heard the word. For all I know, it could be." Then he's eyeing Konrad with a combination of suspicion and speculation. "I'm not sure what's harder to believe. That I'm not actually missing, and am on the national team. Or that we *lost* to *South Korea*!"
Rainer - who did *not* sit down, but is instead remaining on his feet throughout all of this so far - cocks a brow at Martin, and watches him with unconcealed wary scrutiny for some moments before he points out, bluntly, "You have us at a disadvantage. If you're wanting a full explanation, perhaps you should consider making it an even exchange of information, rather than talking your way into a debt it will be difficult to pay back."
On Konrad's side? German Shepherds no longer outrank Americans on the *attentiion* scale,anyhow. His eyes snap to Martin at that single word, and remain there: not *quite* a challenge. Though his fingertips are digging into the couch cushions a little with the effort of keeping it that way. Further detail about South Korea may have to wait.
"Talking myself into a debt!" Martin laughs around the words, then, a sharp and barking sound that rings through the Mechanic and clearly shows his amusement. It's not a pure thing, but worldly and sly. "What, indeed, would you find an 'even' exchange of information?" He says, still amused, before his eyebrows dart upwards. "But I have been rude, at least half of you have given names. I'm Martin, you may have *that* for free. Martin Grey, even." His eyes dart to Czcibor first, casually, as he adds, "If you haven't heard the word, I'd wager you haven't been there." Then his amber eyes settle on Konrad, and something straightens in his spine, that rapscallion grin of his going still around the edges. "Watch yourself."
Someone's apparently waking up -- it could be the danger, the tones, the sheer testosterone -- who knows. Either way, Pietrek drops his hands to his sides and looks square at Martin. "I don't know how you can make *him* react like that, Mr Grey, but these men are here because of me, and an oath was made. I take it from your continued lack of reaction to our appearances that you either can't *see* what I can see, or you'd know the answers to the questions you're asking, which means you *do* want information. I apologise for bringing you into the middle of this--" He looks to Konrad and Rainer, quickly, "--and to you for putting you both on the spot. But--" Now he stands so he can see all of them in his field of vision. "--there has been no violence, and for Christ's sake, there shouldn't be. I *was* born in Wroclaw, and I lived there until I was sixteen. I was a footballer. I couldn't honestly tell you what I am now, or where I've been, or what I've seen, because I don't know or don't understand. What I *do* know is that *I* am the one who owes you for protection and hospitality; I am the cause of this... situation. They are *not*." The man sticks out his chin -- is he for real? -- and finally crosses his arms. "In other words, he *is* watching himself. If it's not enough, I respectfully acknowledge my debt to you and ask that I may repay it at another time. And I will leave. With them."
Rainer's reply to Martin is - rather cut off by Czcibor, and although he's spent most of this experience looking rather guarded, there's definitely something of a change in the way he regards Czcibor, listening to that.
The result is that, when he does add his own response, it's in a more neutral tone than it might otherwise have been. "As he says," with an inclination of his head, again, to Czcibor, although he's watching Martin again now. "I can't speak for anyone but myself - but for myself, I have too much to lose to go answering such questions without receiving assurances in return."
Konrad meets Martin's eyes. This may be a tactical error. But it's only for a moment, long enough to gauge; then he drops his head slightly with a puzzled expression. While Czcibor's talking, he scans the rest of the room, searching, and settles again looking at the dogs; then, without making any *sudden* moves, he eases himself down off the couch. Onto all fours, because at this point, it's *painfully* obvious that he might as well. Then there's another repetition of his 'talk to someone, indicate another' trick ... but this time, it's the *dogs* he's talking to, and the little twist of his head indicates Martin. And 'talking' involves an almost puppylike yip and inquisitive whine.
"No one's being violent." Martin says, in a tone of voice that's almost reasonable, unflapped as he so often seems. "I'm not threatening anyone, I'm just pointing out that I can see what he's doing, there, and there's no need for him to do it. Not in my living room, where it's going to get Bruce and Akos all riled." His gaze glances towards the dogs in the corner, before settling on Pietrek again. "What I see are three men who, like myself, are very likely *very* different beneath the surface. What I see is someone who may or may not have an ability that, given it's voluntary, he ought to be *far* more careful in using where the plebians can see it. What I see are three men who are welcome to leave any moment they wish to, if they find my hospitality and curiousity too much to bear. I see people who take words are far more face value than is healthy. I hear a lot of talk of equal trade, so for what it's worth, I was born in Los Angeles and came to Vienna when I was seventeen, to attend University. That did not work out as well as I had hoped." But then Konrad is moving, and Martin's attention is most definitely on him, eyebrows raised, expression more curious than anything else.
The newcomer to the REAL WORLD, the one in the crazy oldschool uniform, gets a sort of flat expression at Martin's reasonableness. Only at the start, though, it's cool. It passes, and is replaced with a pleasant affability that's hard to tell if it's only a mask. He drops his arms again and clasps them behind his back, then looks -- without surprise -- at Konrad. Politely, he waits until -that- conversation is over before he replies to Martin, "Words hold power."
After another, brief exchange of sounds and cocking of heads, Konrad straightens in turn ... well, up to one knee, at least. He glances back over his shoulder, toward Rainer. "It's all right," he says; then shrugs. "Half all right, anyhow. He's not one of *them*." Which, to judge by the far-easier body language, is what had him stressed from that first Word Martin used. "Can't tell more than that, but anything else is safer." Then he reorients on Martin again. "I'm called Konrad Maier. I came to Vienna late last year, in no better shape than the man here did. I don't know either what the thing you named is, or whether it's another word for what you saw."
"Oh, certainly," Martin says, and that sharp, long grin is back across his face. "But that does not make them true." He directs his attention to Konrad, then, considering him, and the dogs, and then Konrad a second time, thoughtfully. "The language of men would call it 'the Shadow', but that's not the best of names for it. Too innaccurate and accurate all at once. Its denizens, and my people, call it the hisil." He shrugs, easily, his gaze sweeping over the rest of them. "I meant what I said about my intentions. If you wish to go, the door is right there, I only lock it out of habit. But I think perhaps this could be an interesting conversation, if we're willing to talk freely. I know you are not plain humans, but I know you are not my people, and I do not think you are of the others I know." He is *intrigued*.
Rainer looks somewhat more relaxed at Konrad's words - enough so to make it fairly clear that the '*them*' that Konrad was referring to - whatever 'they' are - was perhaps also his primary concern. which is not to say he doesn't still seem kind of wary. "You may be right," he agrees evenly. "And we could all benefit from this, maybe. All I ask is that, if we're to speak openly about what *we* are, that you be willing to do the same. I think that's fair enough."
The uniformed Pole spreads his hands, then, and bows his head slightly. When he looks up again, he's grinning. "All right, then. What he said," he gestures at Rainer, and then finally makes for Martin's fridge. In for a penny, in for a pound -- and there's *beer* in there. And stuff. And, -- that can't have been a coo, no guy that looks like that could coo, but it was *quite* the pleased sound. "Real food! And actually, what -do- you see when you look at me? I look human? We all look normal?"
Normal or not, at the moment Konrad looks ... pained. It's the 'we were never that young' expression. Unmistakably. "We all look normal. That's why the driver didn't blink. And why we weren't being chased down the road with pitchforks and torches." And yes, he's still not growling. There's a slow nod back to Martin, and he adds, "Freely enough, but private. We can't make you unsee what you've seen." Other people might be able to, but not them. Ahem. "But I think neither your people nor ours would be glad of things spread *too* freely." ... and that's when he siits back down. Er. Up. Whichever has him on cushions instead of floor. Apart from the wince at Czcibor's sheer enthusiasm, Konrad continues to seem a good bit calmer. After all, Martin's dogs vouched for him. Right?
Martin inclines his head, at Rainer's words, calmly, and spreads his hands through the air, his fedora in one of them. "I have Oaths I *have* made to others who mean a great deal more to me than you do, I will be frank. But for what I can tell, I am willing to share. In the name of friendship." He considers Czcibor carefully, putting his hat into his lap and folding his hands under it after running one through the crazed mop of his hair. "I see men. Normal men, by *appearances*. As for myself, I can only really show you half of what I am at a time. Feel free to help yourself to the kung pao chicken in there, by the way, but be warned, it's got a hell of a kick." The aside to Czcibor is dropped almost casually into the conversation, and he smiles in a fashion that makes him seem, for a moment, far older than the twenty or twenty-one his face usually implies. "I have been at this a long, long time. I know where the lines are. And, I think, my people will forgive me my trespasses." There's a certain wry tone to his voice, there, that goes unexplained.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair." Here he pauses, turning another sidelong glance toward Konrad, and then, finally, he moves to take a seat. Sitting kind of on the edge of the cushion, granted, but hey, it's progress. "What you saw, before," he says, "we call the Hedge."
"Pitchforks and torches? Really?" Pause. "--I'm just going to listen for a bit. And see if the chicken will kill me," says Pietrek, taking said leftovers out of the fridge with a beer, and taking a seat more or less straddling a chair, beer opened and put carefully on the floor next to the chair. He takes a bite of kung POW, and blinks. His expression? Very very clearly, 'wow i can has tastebuds! and they are burning! AWESOME!'
Konrad glances back at Czcibor, and flips his head pointedly, then shakes it.
(... sadly, only two out of three spectators can see that this actually flops his ear across his nose and very nearly his eyes, and the shake of head is necessary to get it out of the *way* again.)
"It's a borderland, a place between places," Konrad picks up when Rainer finishes. "There are things that live past it. They steal people, sometimes. Some of us make it back." He nods (more carefully) to Czcibor again. "Most don't."
"Do you live in the *Gauntlet?*" Martin says, astonished, for a moment, before he shakes his head, pushing his fingers through his hair, briefly. "I get ahead of myself again. So I mentioned the hisil. The Shadow, where the spirits live. The Gauntlet seperates it from this world, it must be passed through to go from one to the other. I didn't think anything *lived* there. Just...beyond it." This is confusing for him, people are threatening his well-established world view!
Rainer looks dubious. "I'm not sure it's the same thing," he says. "In any case, we live *here,* not in the Hedge - the Hedge is dangerous. The things that live there are... hobgoblins. Hedge-beasts. There are safe havens, if you can find them, but without one, to be in the Hedge is to be that much closer to the Others." The way he says it makes it very clear that the 'Others' are A Bad Thing.
It's a miracle Pietrek doesn't crack up laughing at Konrad's ears. It'd be kind of like laughing at Eeyore, only with more wounded dignity potentially involved. "I *think* I was with my entire regiment. I think. I may have left them in the box. I don't think I would have left without them..." He trails off. Then, "Safe havens?" He looks dubious, and is suddenly talking around a mouthful of food. "The only thing safe about any of that is staying the hell away." He washes it down quickly with some of that beer, and for a moment he looks like he's about to bliss out. Then he's okay. Really.
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
Martin shrugs, almost philosophically, watching Konrad with canny amber eyes. "Yes, well, things like this have an incredible tendency to literally blunder right into me. And now I *do* know, don't I? They're on the horizon *now* even if they hadn't been." He reaches up, to grasp the hair at the back of his head, and give it a brief, thoughtful tug. "No, Spirits come over for a lot of reasons. Well, one of two reasons, really, but it manifests in many ways. It doesn't really matter what they are." He considers the others, mouth quirking to one side. "So basically the gist of it is, these Others come and kidnap folks, and diddle them beyond the Hedge, and when folks get free and come back, they're not the same any more."
To this, Rainer can't help but laugh, just a little, although it's dry and not especially humorous, a short 'heh' sound. "That is the gist of it, yes," he agrees wryly, "boiled down. Although I'd say it's more *if* they get free and come back, rather than *when.* We're the lucky ones."
"And... I was going to say, how many unsolved missing persons reports are there a year? How many go missing that no one would even notice? But then-- I'm not even missing, *am* I," adds the Pole grumpily, now working on the beer. "I should change my name."
"They have been." The shaking of Konrad's head becomes an equally slow nod. " 'Don't go into the woods by yourself, there's a hag who eats children, and adults can't see her.' 'Don't go dancing by yourself with strangers; you won't come home again.' 'The little boy said, before he died, he saw a king and the king's daughters, but his father never saw anything.' Everyone hears the stories. Most people just don't listen. And then," another nod to the Pole in question, "some of us don't go missing. And some of us just get found dead."
"Well, it's easier to say things in a hundred words or less when you boil them down." Martin observes, releasing the hair he was previously tugging on. "Yeah, those stories can apply to almost *anything* that goes bump in the night. I wish people would listen to them more often, really." He rolls his eyes, then, the bright color flickering before he settles his hands back in his lap. "But it seems I've been asking lopsided questions. I sort of said I'd try to keep the trade equitable, didn't I?" There's a brief wince, which is Martin's invitation for them to ask questions of *him*, if he so desires.
"You did," Rainer agrees. "And I personally at least would like to know - since you're not one of us, and you're clearly not one of the masses living in ignorant bliss... what is it that you are?" He does, oddly enough, seem a bit less uptight about this whole business by this point - perhaps because Martin's willing to give tit for tat, perhaps simply out of having resigned himself to the situation, perhaps a little of both.
"How could you tell I was an officer? I've been an idiot all night--" Czcibor asides quietly to Konrad while Rainer's asking. He pauses. "Oh. Officers. Idiots. Right." Then his attention is once more *fully on the topic at hand*. He crosses his arms over the chair back, has a little more beer. And he looks -very- interested at the upcoming answer to Rainer's question.
Konrad snorts quietly at Czcibor's conclusion, but ... other than that, keeps quiet. Rainer's got his question. Konrad's got his guesses, but it's Martin's decision exactly what and how much he's going to spill.
"I go bump in the night." Martin says, and for a second it seems like he might leave it there, his grin sharp and full of teeth. "My people call themselves Uratha, but I wouldn't use that word lightly, or with someone you do not know, it's likely to get you killed before they ask questions. I am, amongst other far more mundane things, a werewolf." He says this with all seriousness, despite his smooth probably-was-a-teenager-last-week features, his apparent inability to grow a complete beard, his rangey and far from intimidating frame.
Rainer shoots a brief, indignant sidelong look at Czcibor. What was that, now? But Martin's talking, so it's only a momentary look before all of his attention is back on the younger man.
He cocks an eyebrow at the word 'werewolf,' but doesn't look particularly skeptical. Instead - perhaps tellingly - he glances over at Konrad. And then, looking back to Martin, he says, "Huh." Just that. He's processing.
Czcibor grins, spreads hands at Rainer, then blinks at Martin. He, too, looks at Konrad, and then back at Martin, and then he starts laughing, beer-free hand over his face. "Sorry. The dramatic irony from before is only now hitting me."
Somewhere in all that exchange of looks, Konrad explains simply, "One of the dogs mentioned it." Which probably doesn't help Czcibor stop laughing any.
The tall American blinks, a few times, before his mouth quirks into a more rueful smile. "Well, that's the first time anyone's LAUGHED when I said that." Then his eyes dart to the dogs, and Martin raises his eyebrows. "I see they are giving out privledged information, now." BRUCE, you're on NOTICE.
Rainer, apparently the sourpuss of the bunch thus far, end up looking a little amused himself, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's - ah - a bit difficult to explain, since you can't see." He looks apologetic, but he doesn't follow that comment with an effort toward explanation, either - that's Konrad's story to tell. Or not. "It's safe to say we're... a bit inured."
"--" Still laughing. Quietly. Head on his forearm on the back of the chair he's in. Sorry. Czcibor finally takes a deep breath, then finishes off the beer and puts the bottle down carefully next to the empty kung pao chicken container. "So that's-- your people, they're werewolves." Face value. But then again, Konrad can talk to Martin's dogs. Again with the irrepressible grin. "I thought you were--" He glances at Rainer and Konrad again, and manages to repress the irrepressible. "I gather it's good that you were not, in fact, a normal human."
Konrad spreads his hands, then quite deliberately scratches himself behind an ear. "Think he had the idea I was one of your people, too. For some reason." Like the on-all-fours and chatting in their language thing. A bit inured. Yes.
"Yes, we're werewolves." Martin says, his eyebrows lifting as he fixes Czcibor with a flat, intense gaze. "I don't see what's so funny about it. I can show you, if you think I'm shitting you. Thought I was, what, a mortal? I should hope you'd have a bit more care with your tongue around them." Then he flickers that attention to Konrad once more, his shoulders uneven in his shrug. "I should have figured at least Bruce for a big mouthed doofus anyway. I love them to death but Bruce is sort of a whore for attention." The dog in question, who recognizes only his name in that short speech, thumps his tail against the floor amicably, expression full of the sort of adoration only dogs can muster. "In any case, I run the Inner Districts, at least so far as my people are concerned and a great deal beyond them, too. As long as you guys aren't messing my turf up, I'm perfectly willing to be friends."
"Generally we *are,*" Rainer says dryly, turning a pointed look toward Czcibor. "But it's hard to help when someone falls out of the Hedge for the first time and doesn't even know what's real and what's not. Bad chance all around." A pause, and he considers Martin briefly before amending, "Or maybe good. I have no intention of messing up your turf. My concern is for things coming out of the Hedge that shouldn't... and from what you've said, it sounds we have something in common there."
Is it bad juju to say, when in a room with a werewolf and you're *not* one, that something just got your hackles up? HOPE NOT, because Czcibor's a little prickly for a second when Martin starts staring him down. He doesn't look away until Rainer speaks up, and then he actually looks *sheepish*. "I thought I *was* mortal. I didn't know. I didn't know *what* the hell was going on," he confirms. "And I'm not going home, and I'm not going back, but *I* don't plan on messing your turf up, either. So really-- yes." Pause. Look at Konrad.
Konrad scratches behind that ear again, meditative. (And with a momentary near-affectionate expression as Bruce tail-thumps.) "Like the man said, I live here. There's no sense in me making trouble." He regards Martin thoughtfully, and adds, "No harm in more noses to the wind, either."
"More noses to the wind means somebody might actually catch scent of something before it's too late." Martin says, somberly. If he notices Czcibor's attitude, he doesn't mention it, but then Martin has grown accustomed to being in a position of power and reminding the people around him *of* that position of power without the use of his voice. It's hard to train an Alpha wolf not to stare at people. "I don't know about being able to watch the Hedge actively, at least on my part, if only because I think if we *could*, I'd have heard about it by now. But if something gets over here, well. Don't hesitate to find me. My folks are *very* good at hunting, and putting shit down what needs to be put down. It's what we're born and bred to do."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rainer tells Martin, inclining his head solemnly to the other man. "And while you and your people might not ever need it, the same goes. I may not have been born and bred to it," he says, very seriously, "but it's what I'm made for now." Rainer, Martin and Czcibor may *both* be getting the impression, seems to have a thing for even exchanges.
"I would say let's make a pledge on it, make it official," notes Czcibor meditatively - apparently something's been percolating for a little bit there - "but would that even work?" He asks this of Rainer and Konrad, and then he tilts his head slightly in Martin's direction.
Konrad settles his hands to his lap, flexing them once idly before letting them still. "Watching the Hedge is our job -- well, mine, at least." He doesn't, this time, glance at Rainer or Czcibor. "We ought be able to help each other, if either of us could use it. But I hope you'll pardon me if I'm not minded," okay, *now* he turns toward Czcibor, "to outright pledge myself to joining hunts too quickly. That's how I wound up chasing cars in the first place."
"I'm not so sure I'm into something that sounds so *heavy* when you guys say it, anyway. You're going to have to satisfy yourself with my word that I'm not going to come for you in the middle of the night--provided you don't go spreading my secrets--and that if you need some help, I'll do my best to provide it. This is my home, and I am *exceptionally* protective of it. I'm sure you can understand." Martin flicks his eyes first to Konrad, and then to the others. "I can't guarantee I can go thundering to war every time someone blows a horn. But as for an alliance, at least, I think we've all sort of slantwise agreed to?" That hopeful smile looks altogether too youthful on Martin's face.
Rainer makes a bit of a 'hn' face at the suggestion of a pledge. "I'm with Konrad," he says presently, after Martin's spoken; "and you're right, it's a bit too heavy a thing to go entering into so soon after we've just met, without being altogether sure it won't run up against promises any of us has already made. We can agree to be good neighbors for now, and keep our mouths shut about one another's secrets, and that'll be enough for me for the time being."
Czcibor looks, at first, both mildly wary and disappointed, but he is clearly quickly mollified by the various explanations. "<Good neighbors,>" he says softly in English, with a faintly amused look. Then he finishes easily, "Agreed."
There's a little extra crinkling around Konrad's eyes, briefly, about when Martin says 'heavy.' He's not taking the rest of it lightly, though. "If someone starts blowing horns," he grumbles, "*I'd* head the other way. Either they're more trouble than sense, or they're worse trouble than *that*. The rest of it, though -- agreed."
Martin is still an American at the end of the day, and it's very hard for him to completely avoid the evidence of that in his speech. "No pledges, then, just goodwill." He grins that broad, rapscallion grin of his again, a little lopsided and toothy. "You guys can feel free to drop by any time. I might not always be here, but if someone is, bang on the door long enough and tell 'em I said it was okay, and they should at least let you in until I get back. In case those Others or whatever start getting too close for comfort."
"It's a deal," Rainer says with a firm nod, and once more Martin may get the vague impression that the words carry a bit more significance with him than they might with the average guy off the street. Of course, he's already observed for himself how seriously all three of these guys take words in general. "And thank you," he adds after only a moment.
"Yes, thank you a *lot*," says Czcibor, picking up the empty containers and putting them where they look like they go. Some things are so deeply ingrained when you had a mother like his that no amount of time stolen away by faeries and fighting senseless wars will erase them. "I will probably take you up on your hospitality again, and when I am able to repay it, please consider the offer reciprocated." Weird places formality shows up in this one. Like him going to shake Martin's hand before moving to leave. "Czcibor Kowal, it'll be next time."
...yes, he *will* wind up following Konrad and Rainer when they leave, if the two of them don't take the initiative and tackle him to the ground to slap a little sense into his dense head.
</lj-cut>
<lj-cut text="'No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*.'">
So there's gothic arches in churches in really old cities. Like Vienna. And usually what you see on the other side of them matches what's on the other side of the arches around them. You know, you look through, you see more wall. Or a great big northex. Or *whatever*. The point is you generally don't look through and see trees and grass and open sky -- especially if it's overcast and raining and dark -- or *walking statues*.
There's really only the one walking statue. It's like some statue of some old-school army guy from a couple centuries ago up and got off his pedastal, all lead and dents and whatever, and is walking *at* the arch. Purposefully. Open, empty hands.
He darts the last couple of meters, eyes wide, and *whoosh* makes it through-- and then it's just an arch, and he's just a guy, wearing a uniform for no army alive, and he's not stopping, and in fact, he's about to plow into someone because he's not even *looking*, he's too shocked.
It's raining, and Martin is beginning to think that is is *always* raining in Vienna, his Southern California soul having already forgotten the snow and ice of winter and instead moved onto some sort of instinctive fear of mudslides and hatred for precipitation. This hatred is only exacerbated by the fact that he seems markedly unprepared for rain, moving through the streets with his plaid overshirt and his jeans and what hair sticks out past that fedora of his slicked down to his skin. He splashes through puddles and over curbs with a scowl on his face--until he's fairly sure that he's seeing through that same gray stone arch -- how MANY of those are there in Vienna ANYWAY -- is some place that is NOT raining, and his head jerks up, pupils spiraling out until there's no amber left, only black, and Martin has about half a second to consider this thing he is seeing before he's ploughed onto. Normally, he's a sturdy six-foot-four, if built like a crane, but this time he's taken just a bit off-guard, and he goes flying back onto his rear end, both hands going not to catch himself but to keep that fedora from making an escape. "Oi!"
There are, of course, always other people on the streets. Two of the nearer ones are walking together: two men in conversation. One of them, a fortyish, worn-looking man in patched clothing has his head turned. "Can find one for you. Can find several. Even in a city, there's space. It's a matter of time, nothing more. And time's what we've got." He lengthens his stride a little as they approach the arch -- and then pulls up abruptly to avoid joining the sudden collision in front of him. For just an instant his eyes widen almost as much as Martin's; then Konrad's expression shifts into a scowl, and he hunches over a little. To start offering people a hand up, see. "Look where you're going," he rumbles at the uniformed stranger. Helpful, isn't he?
The *other* other guy, the blond who looks a bit like someone left him out in the weather too long, less patched but also early-forty-something, does a brief and semi-surreptitious doubletake at the collision as it plays out practically on his toes, and then he, too, is moving to offer a hand up. "Anything broken?" is his dry contribution. Besides all the sanity in a ten-yard radius, he means?
The uniformed stranger is already picking himself up carefully off of Martin even as Konrad's reaching down to help, and he actually briefly shies away from Konrad when he looks at him, until what he /says/ processes. *Then* he talks: he's got a Polish accent, which might account for the processing time. German's not his first language. "I'm truly sorry! I didn't expect -- *are* you all right?" he asks Martin, taking Konrad's hand up with a look of apology. "You're real, aren't you? You're a real person. I didn't break you, did I?" Glance to Rainer, as he's brushing himself off and then looking surprised all over again. "Not even a dent. Oh they *move*. This -- what year is it?" The questions come out eager and tumbled, interspersed in the physical chaos, only adding to the level of what-the-fuck.
Once he's assured that his fedora isn't going anywhere, Martin reaches out to accept whomever's help has been offered, hauling himself back up to his full height in the soaking rain. "Thanks," He says, and even with that one word it's clear that German is not his own native language. He speaks sloppily, too nasal and with a shallow cant that's characteristic of Americans. "I..no, nothing's broken, I don't think, I'm fine." Puzzlement covers his features a few seconds later, and he pats himself down before giving a little look over his shoulder as if he expects to see something there. Canid cameras, perhaps. "I...think I'm a real person? I was last I checked. I didn't *think* that washed off." He glances again, with those oddly feral eyes of his, past the uniformed man this time, towards the building arch. "...was...I swore.." SO CONFUSED.
Konrad makes an impatient, unpleasant sound in his throat, a snarl trailing into a hint of growl. "You need a place to sit down and sleep off the worst of ... whatever this is." His eyes focus intently on the uniformed Pole. "And a change of clothes." There's a brief flicker of that otherwise intent gaze toward Martin. He does his best to time that for Martin's looking over his own shoulder. Then it's back to Czcibor. "... welcome back from the costume party. Doesn't look like you had much fun."
"Oh," is Rainer's deadpan comment, "I don't know about that." He pauses, takes another look at Czcibor, and adds, "Perhaps a bit too *much* fun. In any case, it is probably not doing any of us any good to go on standing out here in the rain..." He lets that sentence trail off in obvious suggestion.
...so, this is the part where the apparently drunk guy from what was apparently a costume party abruptly grabs Martin's arm and holds to it, eyes a little wide, eyeing Konrad and Rainer. "No, I think I'll stay with the real one. This is the *world*. There are *laws* here. You might drag me *back*." He pauses, breathing evening out a little bit, then glances sidelong up at Martin and lets go his arm. "Kid, let me know if I'm scaring you and I'll just run for it." The guy could be drunk, or could be touched in the head, or -- honestly, it could be they're all part of some weird scene. I mean, stuff happens. In cities.
"Did you just SNARL at me?" Martin says to Konrad, his eyebrows dropped against his amber eyes and his lips pursed together in an expression that would be almost comical, if there wasn't just the wrong amount of canny intention behind his irises. But then he's being clung to, and his eyebrows dart right back up towards his fedora, mouth opening to remind the drunk dude that just because *he* is full of alcohol doesn't mean he could ignore everyone *else's* personal space--but something clicks, after he's again let go, and he says, in a smallish voice that does not at all argue his case, "I'm not a kid. It's two-thousand and two. No one's going to make you go anywhere you don't want to be." As if this man, so obviously close to his childhood and so gangly-tall, can make decisions for anyone. He certainly speaks as if he expects people to listen.
"No," Konrad answers Martin. He jerks his head a little to one side, indicating Czcibor. "I snarled at *him*." He lowers his head to glare at the uniformed man a little better. "This is the world. There are laws here. One of them says 'if you stand out in the rain and the wind long enough without a coat on, you get cold and collapse.' So let's find somewhere *out* of the wind. And the cold. And the rain. Before we get washed right into the river." He's talking to Czcibor; he's watching Martin, wary. "Ever been to Vienna before?"
"Oh, holy God," Rainer sighs, and puts a hand briefly over his face. And then he drops it and, fixing each of the other men in turn with a sharp and authoritative look, says, "Everyone here is real, and this *is* the real world, and everyone here needs to calm down and get out of the rain. We may all go somewhere public, and I will pay for coffee, and I swear," this, very seriously, to Czcibor, "on my own true name, that neither one of us," a nod to Konrad, "will take you anywhere today that you don't consent, may I be cursed for a year and a day if it's not so. I'm Rainer. Can we go, please?"
Watching the uniformed man's face is like watching a pageant of expression. He goes from surprised disappointment at the year to relief at Martin's inexplicable air of authority, both with edginess underneath, and then the edginess comes to the forefront when Konrad's glaring at him, and his stance changes noticeably (defensive!), and then it abruptly deflates at the non sequitur of Konrad's last question; he's about to answer when Rainer asplodes in exasperation. And then he *actually* relaxes. "All right. And no, I've never been here before. I'm from Wroclaw..." trailing off, and then the man shakes his head. "...Kowalewicz. Pietrek. Lead the way."
"If you guys need a warm, dry place to talk about weird-ass things I doubt should really be discussed in the middle of the road," This is a hint! A very subtle hint! "I live on top of the Honest Mechanic, and it probably wouldn't be that big a deal to flag a cab down so you can talk out your 'laws' on the floor." Martin peers back at Konrad, reaching up to readjust his fedora on his head. "Or we could go for coffee and have everyone and their brother stare at us, whatever!" The American has an appropriately big mouth. His hands toss a little bit, but it's clear Martin has not written himself out of the equation of this craziness yet.
Konrad doesn't say a word. (Yay!) He just swings his head, looking to Rainer.
Once he's done wincing at Pietrek's name, anyhow.
"Up to you," Rainer tells Pietrek promptly, after a shuttered glance toward Martin at his offer. Since he *did* just swear to be cursed if he or Konrad tried to make the guy go anywhere he didn't want to.
After something of a pause, he adds, "Not in public is likely preferable." He says it just a little grudgingly; in public is *safer* in many respects, but Martin does have a point.
Pietrek pauses. He looks from Martin, whom he sees as much safer, to Rainer, who made him a promise -- Konrad is still scaring him, kind of -- and shrugs, blissfully ignorant of potentially breaking anyone's brains. "Wherever's closest."
Martin gestures almost wardingly with his hands, "I promise no one's going to jump you while you're at the Mechanic, I don't mean anyone harm. It's just folks tend to call the looney wagon first and ask questions later, you know?" He looks down to Pietrek, his mouth pressing to a vague line, "Well, I live in the Inner Districts, so the Mechanic is a bit of a ways, but it's really not a long taxi ride, I can cover it. It's *really* a better idea if you're ...how should I say, jittery? It's better to get that out in private than disrupt some coffee bar with it." He grins, then, his expression wide and affable. He seems so *reasonable*, right now, like such a friendly, easy-going face. If no one complains, he'll even hail a cab.
The cab ride, as promised, does not take long, although it does suspiciously draw the small group of men into the seedier, more dirty part of town. The Inner Districts are not, exactly, the nicest-looking places in the world, but it's home for Martin, and through the bars the guard the high-mounted windows of the warehouse that advertises itself as 'The Honest Mechanic', one can see curtains and potted plants.
The inside of the warehouse, visible once Martin removes the key from the inside brim of his hat and unlocks the door, proves that it is no longer honest nor a mechanic's, having clearly been converted to a living space-slash-run-for the pair of large, thick-furred dogs napping in the corner-slash-practice area for what appears to be a rock band, judging by the electronic equipment, instruments and other sundries scattered over the stage that dominates one side of the room. There are sofas and over-stuffed chairs that abound, which Martin gestures to as he pulls the door closed behind his guests and, quietly, locks it. The dogs in the corner look up, and one 'wuffs' half-heartedly, but they don't move.
Instead, it's Martin moving, tossing one hand towards the mini-fridge as he goes to the edge of the stage, to hop up and sit there with his long legs dangling down. "There's water and beer and God knows what else in the fridge, help yourselves. As for me," He lifts his fedora off of his head, so casually, flipping it through his hands, "I'd be happy with knowing what the *hell* was on the other side of that arch." Czcibor the Absent, he's looking at you.
The Pole looks decidedly unimpressed at the locking of the door, but doesn't say anything about it. "A lot of stupid wars fought for a lot of stupid people with too much power." He looks uncertain, then glances at Konrad and Rainer, almost defiantly. He looks back at Martin. "Otherworld?"
Rainer glances toward Konrad briefly at this, but mostly he looks resigned. At this juncture, it seems, pretending to be completely normal is just not going to happen, if only because at least two people here are refusing to let it. What can you do? He inclines his head toward Czcibor in something like commiserations. "Nowhere anyone sane wants to be," he says.
Konrad, on the other hand, either doesn't notice the locking of the door or doesn't care. His attention's over in the corner, on the dogs. No, there are no low noises in his throat this time. Conciliatory is more the tone of the moment. Apparently German Shepherds rate higher on the etiquette scale than, uh, Americans. After Martin's seated, Konrad drops himself into a corner of one of the sofas... one with the least random dog hair. He drips on it. He doesn't particularly seem to care. "Hell's on the *other* side of it. That's just the borderlands." He regards Czcibor gravely for a moment. "You're in Vienna, it's two thousand two, and Pietrek Kowale-- I can't even *say* that -- just lost against South Korea in the first round of the World Cup. Sorry."
"You're not talking about the hisil." It comes out more a statement of fact than a question, for all that Martin's eyebrows lift as he looks between the other three, but the most remarkable thing about that statement is the last word. It simply isn't *human*, there's something feral and ancient and powerful about it, and it snarls as it comes out of the American's throat, picking up a bassimo shudder from, apparently, out of nowhere. "Or are you?" He considers the others carefully, his eyes narrow and distant.
There's this moment of 'ah!' realization and understanding as Pietrek catches Rainer's glance. The commiseration is shared. And then, there is a classic doubletake, as the man looks at Konrad with his calm and apologetic statement; he stares. "What? Shit! What? Really? Shit! How?!" He pauses again, then holds up his hands, looks away, takes a very visible step back. He does not sit. He just drips where he's standing. A quick flip of his gaze to Martin, and he shrugs. "I've never heard the word. For all I know, it could be." Then he's eyeing Konrad with a combination of suspicion and speculation. "I'm not sure what's harder to believe. That I'm not actually missing, and am on the national team. Or that we *lost* to *South Korea*!"
Rainer - who did *not* sit down, but is instead remaining on his feet throughout all of this so far - cocks a brow at Martin, and watches him with unconcealed wary scrutiny for some moments before he points out, bluntly, "You have us at a disadvantage. If you're wanting a full explanation, perhaps you should consider making it an even exchange of information, rather than talking your way into a debt it will be difficult to pay back."
On Konrad's side? German Shepherds no longer outrank Americans on the *attentiion* scale,anyhow. His eyes snap to Martin at that single word, and remain there: not *quite* a challenge. Though his fingertips are digging into the couch cushions a little with the effort of keeping it that way. Further detail about South Korea may have to wait.
"Talking myself into a debt!" Martin laughs around the words, then, a sharp and barking sound that rings through the Mechanic and clearly shows his amusement. It's not a pure thing, but worldly and sly. "What, indeed, would you find an 'even' exchange of information?" He says, still amused, before his eyebrows dart upwards. "But I have been rude, at least half of you have given names. I'm Martin, you may have *that* for free. Martin Grey, even." His eyes dart to Czcibor first, casually, as he adds, "If you haven't heard the word, I'd wager you haven't been there." Then his amber eyes settle on Konrad, and something straightens in his spine, that rapscallion grin of his going still around the edges. "Watch yourself."
Someone's apparently waking up -- it could be the danger, the tones, the sheer testosterone -- who knows. Either way, Pietrek drops his hands to his sides and looks square at Martin. "I don't know how you can make *him* react like that, Mr Grey, but these men are here because of me, and an oath was made. I take it from your continued lack of reaction to our appearances that you either can't *see* what I can see, or you'd know the answers to the questions you're asking, which means you *do* want information. I apologise for bringing you into the middle of this--" He looks to Konrad and Rainer, quickly, "--and to you for putting you both on the spot. But--" Now he stands so he can see all of them in his field of vision. "--there has been no violence, and for Christ's sake, there shouldn't be. I *was* born in Wroclaw, and I lived there until I was sixteen. I was a footballer. I couldn't honestly tell you what I am now, or where I've been, or what I've seen, because I don't know or don't understand. What I *do* know is that *I* am the one who owes you for protection and hospitality; I am the cause of this... situation. They are *not*." The man sticks out his chin -- is he for real? -- and finally crosses his arms. "In other words, he *is* watching himself. If it's not enough, I respectfully acknowledge my debt to you and ask that I may repay it at another time. And I will leave. With them."
Rainer's reply to Martin is - rather cut off by Czcibor, and although he's spent most of this experience looking rather guarded, there's definitely something of a change in the way he regards Czcibor, listening to that.
The result is that, when he does add his own response, it's in a more neutral tone than it might otherwise have been. "As he says," with an inclination of his head, again, to Czcibor, although he's watching Martin again now. "I can't speak for anyone but myself - but for myself, I have too much to lose to go answering such questions without receiving assurances in return."
Konrad meets Martin's eyes. This may be a tactical error. But it's only for a moment, long enough to gauge; then he drops his head slightly with a puzzled expression. While Czcibor's talking, he scans the rest of the room, searching, and settles again looking at the dogs; then, without making any *sudden* moves, he eases himself down off the couch. Onto all fours, because at this point, it's *painfully* obvious that he might as well. Then there's another repetition of his 'talk to someone, indicate another' trick ... but this time, it's the *dogs* he's talking to, and the little twist of his head indicates Martin. And 'talking' involves an almost puppylike yip and inquisitive whine.
"No one's being violent." Martin says, in a tone of voice that's almost reasonable, unflapped as he so often seems. "I'm not threatening anyone, I'm just pointing out that I can see what he's doing, there, and there's no need for him to do it. Not in my living room, where it's going to get Bruce and Akos all riled." His gaze glances towards the dogs in the corner, before settling on Pietrek again. "What I see are three men who, like myself, are very likely *very* different beneath the surface. What I see is someone who may or may not have an ability that, given it's voluntary, he ought to be *far* more careful in using where the plebians can see it. What I see are three men who are welcome to leave any moment they wish to, if they find my hospitality and curiousity too much to bear. I see people who take words are far more face value than is healthy. I hear a lot of talk of equal trade, so for what it's worth, I was born in Los Angeles and came to Vienna when I was seventeen, to attend University. That did not work out as well as I had hoped." But then Konrad is moving, and Martin's attention is most definitely on him, eyebrows raised, expression more curious than anything else.
The newcomer to the REAL WORLD, the one in the crazy oldschool uniform, gets a sort of flat expression at Martin's reasonableness. Only at the start, though, it's cool. It passes, and is replaced with a pleasant affability that's hard to tell if it's only a mask. He drops his arms again and clasps them behind his back, then looks -- without surprise -- at Konrad. Politely, he waits until -that- conversation is over before he replies to Martin, "Words hold power."
After another, brief exchange of sounds and cocking of heads, Konrad straightens in turn ... well, up to one knee, at least. He glances back over his shoulder, toward Rainer. "It's all right," he says; then shrugs. "Half all right, anyhow. He's not one of *them*." Which, to judge by the far-easier body language, is what had him stressed from that first Word Martin used. "Can't tell more than that, but anything else is safer." Then he reorients on Martin again. "I'm called Konrad Maier. I came to Vienna late last year, in no better shape than the man here did. I don't know either what the thing you named is, or whether it's another word for what you saw."
"Oh, certainly," Martin says, and that sharp, long grin is back across his face. "But that does not make them true." He directs his attention to Konrad, then, considering him, and the dogs, and then Konrad a second time, thoughtfully. "The language of men would call it 'the Shadow', but that's not the best of names for it. Too innaccurate and accurate all at once. Its denizens, and my people, call it the hisil." He shrugs, easily, his gaze sweeping over the rest of them. "I meant what I said about my intentions. If you wish to go, the door is right there, I only lock it out of habit. But I think perhaps this could be an interesting conversation, if we're willing to talk freely. I know you are not plain humans, but I know you are not my people, and I do not think you are of the others I know." He is *intrigued*.
Rainer looks somewhat more relaxed at Konrad's words - enough so to make it fairly clear that the '*them*' that Konrad was referring to - whatever 'they' are - was perhaps also his primary concern. which is not to say he doesn't still seem kind of wary. "You may be right," he agrees evenly. "And we could all benefit from this, maybe. All I ask is that, if we're to speak openly about what *we* are, that you be willing to do the same. I think that's fair enough."
The uniformed Pole spreads his hands, then, and bows his head slightly. When he looks up again, he's grinning. "All right, then. What he said," he gestures at Rainer, and then finally makes for Martin's fridge. In for a penny, in for a pound -- and there's *beer* in there. And stuff. And, -- that can't have been a coo, no guy that looks like that could coo, but it was *quite* the pleased sound. "Real food! And actually, what -do- you see when you look at me? I look human? We all look normal?"
Normal or not, at the moment Konrad looks ... pained. It's the 'we were never that young' expression. Unmistakably. "We all look normal. That's why the driver didn't blink. And why we weren't being chased down the road with pitchforks and torches." And yes, he's still not growling. There's a slow nod back to Martin, and he adds, "Freely enough, but private. We can't make you unsee what you've seen." Other people might be able to, but not them. Ahem. "But I think neither your people nor ours would be glad of things spread *too* freely." ... and that's when he siits back down. Er. Up. Whichever has him on cushions instead of floor. Apart from the wince at Czcibor's sheer enthusiasm, Konrad continues to seem a good bit calmer. After all, Martin's dogs vouched for him. Right?
Martin inclines his head, at Rainer's words, calmly, and spreads his hands through the air, his fedora in one of them. "I have Oaths I *have* made to others who mean a great deal more to me than you do, I will be frank. But for what I can tell, I am willing to share. In the name of friendship." He considers Czcibor carefully, putting his hat into his lap and folding his hands under it after running one through the crazed mop of his hair. "I see men. Normal men, by *appearances*. As for myself, I can only really show you half of what I am at a time. Feel free to help yourself to the kung pao chicken in there, by the way, but be warned, it's got a hell of a kick." The aside to Czcibor is dropped almost casually into the conversation, and he smiles in a fashion that makes him seem, for a moment, far older than the twenty or twenty-one his face usually implies. "I have been at this a long, long time. I know where the lines are. And, I think, my people will forgive me my trespasses." There's a certain wry tone to his voice, there, that goes unexplained.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair.
To this, finally, Rainer cracks a bit of a smile. "I'd think less of you if you were willing to forsake oaths you've made for three men you've just met," he observes, casually enough. "That, too, is fair." Here he pauses, turning another sidelong glance toward Konrad, and then, finally, he moves to take a seat. Sitting kind of on the edge of the cushion, granted, but hey, it's progress. "What you saw, before," he says, "we call the Hedge."
"Pitchforks and torches? Really?" Pause. "--I'm just going to listen for a bit. And see if the chicken will kill me," says Pietrek, taking said leftovers out of the fridge with a beer, and taking a seat more or less straddling a chair, beer opened and put carefully on the floor next to the chair. He takes a bite of kung POW, and blinks. His expression? Very very clearly, 'wow i can has tastebuds! and they are burning! AWESOME!'
Konrad glances back at Czcibor, and flips his head pointedly, then shakes it.
(... sadly, only two out of three spectators can see that this actually flops his ear across his nose and very nearly his eyes, and the shake of head is necessary to get it out of the *way* again.)
"It's a borderland, a place between places," Konrad picks up when Rainer finishes. "There are things that live past it. They steal people, sometimes. Some of us make it back." He nods (more carefully) to Czcibor again. "Most don't."
"Do you live in the *Gauntlet?*" Martin says, astonished, for a moment, before he shakes his head, pushing his fingers through his hair, briefly. "I get ahead of myself again. So I mentioned the hisil. The Shadow, where the spirits live. The Gauntlet seperates it from this world, it must be passed through to go from one to the other. I didn't think anything *lived* there. Just...beyond it." This is confusing for him, people are threatening his well-established world view!
Rainer looks dubious. "I'm not sure it's the same thing," he says. "In any case, we live *here,* not in the Hedge - the Hedge is dangerous. The things that live there are... hobgoblins. Hedge-beasts. There are safe havens, if you can find them, but without one, to be in the Hedge is to be that much closer to the Others." The way he says it makes it very clear that the 'Others' are A Bad Thing.
It's a miracle Pietrek doesn't crack up laughing at Konrad's ears. It'd be kind of like laughing at Eeyore, only with more wounded dignity potentially involved. "I *think* I was with my entire regiment. I think. I may have left them in the box. I don't think I would have left without them..." He trails off. Then, "Safe havens?" He looks dubious, and is suddenly talking around a mouthful of food. "The only thing safe about any of that is staying the hell away." He washes it down quickly with some of that beer, and for a moment he looks like he's about to bliss out. Then he's okay. Really.
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
"Are these spirits monsters that give themselves an illusion of humanity in order to kidnap people for their toys?" Konrad asks. (Apparently literally toys, in Czcibor's place.) "If not, then your Shadow isn't the Others' home. This Gauntlet..." Another helpless shrug. "The Hedge is between here and there, and it's dangerous; it'll tear you to shreds if you're not careful. But if you're good enough, you can make a safe place for yoruself in it. One where They have a harder time reaching you." It's not entirely clear who he's talking to, this time. "Not completely safe. But here isn't completely safe, either. Nowhere is."
"Some of them are. Some of them are not. It is more like...they are shadows of this world. Emotions, events, well-loved or old things give them life. A spirit of youth might be a perpetual child, but I know spirits that are little birds, or great clouds. There's a packrat in here." The hat is waved, carefully, at the others before Martin twirls it onto his head. "I think you're right. Still, it's odd that it's never even been on my horizon before. My people guard this world against the hisil. I'd like to think if we'd known about this Hedge, we'd have guarded against what comes through it, too."
Rainer considers Martin for a little longer, and then he shakes his head. "From what you say, I don't believe they're the same. These spirits don't sound much like the Others... and as far as I know, the only reason the Others come here through the Hedge is to amuse themselves by toying with humans." He sounds considerably bitter about the whole subject. Perhaps understandably.
"Yeah, well, yeah," agrees uniform-guy to Konrad, just about finished with the takeaway, "I thought *you* worked for them. I ran into a few snags even after I got out of the worst of the thorns, and most of them had faces." He straightens in the chair a little, looking from Martin to Rainer, then back to Martin. "They were very beautiful. And very clever. And I doubt they're the same twice."
"If the officer here hadn't fallen out of the Hedge onto you, you wouldn't know now," ... that seems to be Konrad's idea of a joke. He leans a little more on the sofa's arm, swinging his head loosely from side to side. "No, they're on your horizon. But they're very good at hiding. We can see them. We do our share of guarding, too. And we keep quiet when we can. After all, the Others might hear us, too."
Martin shrugs, almost philosophically, watching Konrad with canny amber eyes. "Yes, well, things like this have an incredible tendency to literally blunder right into me. And now I *do* know, don't I? They're on the horizon *now* even if they hadn't been." He reaches up, to grasp the hair at the back of his head, and give it a brief, thoughtful tug. "No, Spirits come over for a lot of reasons. Well, one of two reasons, really, but it manifests in many ways. It doesn't really matter what they are." He considers the others, mouth quirking to one side. "So basically the gist of it is, these Others come and kidnap folks, and diddle them beyond the Hedge, and when folks get free and come back, they're not the same any more."
To this, Rainer can't help but laugh, just a little, although it's dry and not especially humorous, a short 'heh' sound. "That is the gist of it, yes," he agrees wryly, "boiled down. Although I'd say it's more *if* they get free and come back, rather than *when.* We're the lucky ones."
"And... I was going to say, how many unsolved missing persons reports are there a year? How many go missing that no one would even notice? But then-- I'm not even missing, *am* I," adds the Pole grumpily, now working on the beer. "I should change my name."
"They have been." The shaking of Konrad's head becomes an equally slow nod. " 'Don't go into the woods by yourself, there's a hag who eats children, and adults can't see her.' 'Don't go dancing by yourself with strangers; you won't come home again.' 'The little boy said, before he died, he saw a king and the king's daughters, but his father never saw anything.' Everyone hears the stories. Most people just don't listen. And then," another nod to the Pole in question, "some of us don't go missing. And some of us just get found dead."
"Well, it's easier to say things in a hundred words or less when you boil them down." Martin observes, releasing the hair he was previously tugging on. "Yeah, those stories can apply to almost *anything* that goes bump in the night. I wish people would listen to them more often, really." He rolls his eyes, then, the bright color flickering before he settles his hands back in his lap. "But it seems I've been asking lopsided questions. I sort of said I'd try to keep the trade equitable, didn't I?" There's a brief wince, which is Martin's invitation for them to ask questions of *him*, if he so desires.
"You did," Rainer agrees. "And I personally at least would like to know - since you're not one of us, and you're clearly not one of the masses living in ignorant bliss... what is it that you are?" He does, oddly enough, seem a bit less uptight about this whole business by this point - perhaps because Martin's willing to give tit for tat, perhaps simply out of having resigned himself to the situation, perhaps a little of both.
"How could you tell I was an officer? I've been an idiot all night--" Czcibor asides quietly to Konrad while Rainer's asking. He pauses. "Oh. Officers. Idiots. Right." Then his attention is once more *fully on the topic at hand*. He crosses his arms over the chair back, has a little more beer. And he looks -very- interested at the upcoming answer to Rainer's question.
Konrad snorts quietly at Czcibor's conclusion, but ... other than that, keeps quiet. Rainer's got his question. Konrad's got his guesses, but it's Martin's decision exactly what and how much he's going to spill.
"I go bump in the night." Martin says, and for a second it seems like he might leave it there, his grin sharp and full of teeth. "My people call themselves Uratha, but I wouldn't use that word lightly, or with someone you do not know, it's likely to get you killed before they ask questions. I am, amongst other far more mundane things, a werewolf." He says this with all seriousness, despite his smooth probably-was-a-teenager-last-week features, his apparent inability to grow a complete beard, his rangey and far from intimidating frame.
Rainer shoots a brief, indignant sidelong look at Czcibor. What was that, now? But Martin's talking, so it's only a momentary look before all of his attention is back on the younger man.
He cocks an eyebrow at the word 'werewolf,' but doesn't look particularly skeptical. Instead - perhaps tellingly - he glances over at Konrad. And then, looking back to Martin, he says, "Huh." Just that. He's processing.
Czcibor grins, spreads hands at Rainer, then blinks at Martin. He, too, looks at Konrad, and then back at Martin, and then he starts laughing, beer-free hand over his face. "Sorry. The dramatic irony from before is only now hitting me."
Somewhere in all that exchange of looks, Konrad explains simply, "One of the dogs mentioned it." Which probably doesn't help Czcibor stop laughing any.
The tall American blinks, a few times, before his mouth quirks into a more rueful smile. "Well, that's the first time anyone's LAUGHED when I said that." Then his eyes dart to the dogs, and Martin raises his eyebrows. "I see they are giving out privledged information, now." BRUCE, you're on NOTICE.
Rainer, apparently the sourpuss of the bunch thus far, end up looking a little amused himself, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's - ah - a bit difficult to explain, since you can't see." He looks apologetic, but he doesn't follow that comment with an effort toward explanation, either - that's Konrad's story to tell. Or not. "It's safe to say we're... a bit inured."
"--" Still laughing. Quietly. Head on his forearm on the back of the chair he's in. Sorry. Czcibor finally takes a deep breath, then finishes off the beer and puts the bottle down carefully next to the empty kung pao chicken container. "So that's-- your people, they're werewolves." Face value. But then again, Konrad can talk to Martin's dogs. Again with the irrepressible grin. "I thought you were--" He glances at Rainer and Konrad again, and manages to repress the irrepressible. "I gather it's good that you were not, in fact, a normal human."
Konrad spreads his hands, then quite deliberately scratches himself behind an ear. "Think he had the idea I was one of your people, too. For some reason." Like the on-all-fours and chatting in their language thing. A bit inured. Yes.
"Yes, we're werewolves." Martin says, his eyebrows lifting as he fixes Czcibor with a flat, intense gaze. "I don't see what's so funny about it. I can show you, if you think I'm shitting you. Thought I was, what, a mortal? I should hope you'd have a bit more care with your tongue around them." Then he flickers that attention to Konrad once more, his shoulders uneven in his shrug. "I should have figured at least Bruce for a big mouthed doofus anyway. I love them to death but Bruce is sort of a whore for attention." The dog in question, who recognizes only his name in that short speech, thumps his tail against the floor amicably, expression full of the sort of adoration only dogs can muster. "In any case, I run the Inner Districts, at least so far as my people are concerned and a great deal beyond them, too. As long as you guys aren't messing my turf up, I'm perfectly willing to be friends."
"Generally we *are,*" Rainer says dryly, turning a pointed look toward Czcibor. "But it's hard to help when someone falls out of the Hedge for the first time and doesn't even know what's real and what's not. Bad chance all around." A pause, and he considers Martin briefly before amending, "Or maybe good. I have no intention of messing up your turf. My concern is for things coming out of the Hedge that shouldn't... and from what you've said, it sounds we have something in common there."
Is it bad juju to say, when in a room with a werewolf and you're *not* one, that something just got your hackles up? HOPE NOT, because Czcibor's a little prickly for a second when Martin starts staring him down. He doesn't look away until Rainer speaks up, and then he actually looks *sheepish*. "I thought I *was* mortal. I didn't know. I didn't know *what* the hell was going on," he confirms. "And I'm not going home, and I'm not going back, but *I* don't plan on messing your turf up, either. So really-- yes." Pause. Look at Konrad.
Konrad scratches behind that ear again, meditative. (And with a momentary near-affectionate expression as Bruce tail-thumps.) "Like the man said, I live here. There's no sense in me making trouble." He regards Martin thoughtfully, and adds, "No harm in more noses to the wind, either."
"More noses to the wind means somebody might actually catch scent of something before it's too late." Martin says, somberly. If he notices Czcibor's attitude, he doesn't mention it, but then Martin has grown accustomed to being in a position of power and reminding the people around him *of* that position of power without the use of his voice. It's hard to train an Alpha wolf not to stare at people. "I don't know about being able to watch the Hedge actively, at least on my part, if only because I think if we *could*, I'd have heard about it by now. But if something gets over here, well. Don't hesitate to find me. My folks are *very* good at hunting, and putting shit down what needs to be put down. It's what we're born and bred to do."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rainer tells Martin, inclining his head solemnly to the other man. "And while you and your people might not ever need it, the same goes. I may not have been born and bred to it," he says, very seriously, "but it's what I'm made for now." Rainer, Martin and Czcibor may *both* be getting the impression, seems to have a thing for even exchanges.
"I would say let's make a pledge on it, make it official," notes Czcibor meditatively - apparently something's been percolating for a little bit there - "but would that even work?" He asks this of Rainer and Konrad, and then he tilts his head slightly in Martin's direction.
Konrad settles his hands to his lap, flexing them once idly before letting them still. "Watching the Hedge is our job -- well, mine, at least." He doesn't, this time, glance at Rainer or Czcibor. "We ought be able to help each other, if either of us could use it. But I hope you'll pardon me if I'm not minded," okay, *now* he turns toward Czcibor, "to outright pledge myself to joining hunts too quickly. That's how I wound up chasing cars in the first place."
"I'm not so sure I'm into something that sounds so *heavy* when you guys say it, anyway. You're going to have to satisfy yourself with my word that I'm not going to come for you in the middle of the night--provided you don't go spreading my secrets--and that if you need some help, I'll do my best to provide it. This is my home, and I am *exceptionally* protective of it. I'm sure you can understand." Martin flicks his eyes first to Konrad, and then to the others. "I can't guarantee I can go thundering to war every time someone blows a horn. But as for an alliance, at least, I think we've all sort of slantwise agreed to?" That hopeful smile looks altogether too youthful on Martin's face.
Rainer makes a bit of a 'hn' face at the suggestion of a pledge. "I'm with Konrad," he says presently, after Martin's spoken; "and you're right, it's a bit too heavy a thing to go entering into so soon after we've just met, without being altogether sure it won't run up against promises any of us has already made. We can agree to be good neighbors for now, and keep our mouths shut about one another's secrets, and that'll be enough for me for the time being."
Czcibor looks, at first, both mildly wary and disappointed, but he is clearly quickly mollified by the various explanations. "<Good neighbors,>" he says softly in English, with a faintly amused look. Then he finishes easily, "Agreed."
There's a little extra crinkling around Konrad's eyes, briefly, about when Martin says 'heavy.' He's not taking the rest of it lightly, though. "If someone starts blowing horns," he grumbles, "*I'd* head the other way. Either they're more trouble than sense, or they're worse trouble than *that*. The rest of it, though -- agreed."
Martin is still an American at the end of the day, and it's very hard for him to completely avoid the evidence of that in his speech. "No pledges, then, just goodwill." He grins that broad, rapscallion grin of his again, a little lopsided and toothy. "You guys can feel free to drop by any time. I might not always be here, but if someone is, bang on the door long enough and tell 'em I said it was okay, and they should at least let you in until I get back. In case those Others or whatever start getting too close for comfort."
"It's a deal," Rainer says with a firm nod, and once more Martin may get the vague impression that the words carry a bit more significance with him than they might with the average guy off the street. Of course, he's already observed for himself how seriously all three of these guys take words in general. "And thank you," he adds after only a moment.
"Yes, thank you a *lot*," says Czcibor, picking up the empty containers and putting them where they look like they go. Some things are so deeply ingrained when you had a mother like his that no amount of time stolen away by faeries and fighting senseless wars will erase them. "I will probably take you up on your hospitality again, and when I am able to repay it, please consider the offer reciprocated." Weird places formality shows up in this one. Like him going to shake Martin's hand before moving to leave. "Czcibor Kowal, it'll be next time."
...yes, he *will* wind up following Konrad and Rainer when they leave, if the two of them don't take the initiative and tackle him to the ground to slap a little sense into his dense head.
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