middaeg | catch all log!

[ Cats are not that difficult to deal with, Steak had thought. It was hardly the first time in his long life that someone needed him to find a lost cat. And, in comparison to fighting monsters — both here and on Tierra — it has to be relatively pain free, right?

... Oh, famous last words.

As it is, Steak has managed to gain three (3) new scars across his face, a flurry more across his arms, and the crate he carries is still as empty as it was when he first set out.

Though, on the bright side, he's finally gotten it away from the Turnskin it continues to follow, and cornered it in a cul-de-sac.

There's a beat of silence, a stare held between a man with red eyes and tentacles flicking out at his waist and one, simple, bog standard cat, before Steak leaps, trying to stuff the damned beast into the crate once more.

Any unfortunate passers by may be attracted by the swearing, yowling, or general noise which follows this particular, stupid decision. ]

— Get! In! There!

[ And if not, they'll certainly notice the cat which darts back around Steak and out of the cul-de-sac. ]

[ Dorchacht's ambassadors bring new places to explore, and it goes without saying that Steak is among the first to take advantage of this fact, and that he would immediately find his way into the groups exploring their Wildes in particular.

Some things never change, no matter where in the multiverse a person is, and Steak? He's a predictable constant like that. Bullheaded and determined to fill the duty he's had since he was first summoned into existence on Tierra all those years ago.

Hunting is part of who he is, so much so that he remembers vague sensations of people around campfires, enjoying the spoils of a hunt. People who existed long before he did, echoes of the foundations of his particular dish.

He doesn't feel the particular pull of the flowers until his recruits have already stumbled off towards them, and it isn't until Steak realises that the scent which keeps wafting under his nose is exactly that of the local tavern which the Knights of the Holy Sword enjoy in Nevras that he figures out something is off. ]

Stop—!

[ His swords are already out, and tentacles reach forward to grab the person ahead of him, right by the bushes, heedless of whether they're his recruits or someone else entirely. ]

[ After his bout with the roses, it shouldn't surprise Steak that Wilder recruits have gone missing, and nor should it surprise anyone else to know that he's immediately volunteering to help find them. Because that's what he's made for.

Because work is good. Work keeps him busy. And the busier he is, the less he thinks about the increasing numbers of tentacles at his waist, or the fact that he's bulking up at a rate he previously thought impossible for Food Souls — they don't really change at all. They don't grow up, or... out.

Not that new muscle is a bad thing by any means, but it's another change he didn't need or want. Another reminder that he's turning into something unfamiliar and wrong.

So, for now, he dives back into uncharted territory, finds a recruit after hours of searching, and tries to direct them back, away from the direction they said they saw this undetermined beast.

Of course, life when fighting monsters is never that easy, and the poor kid doesn't even make it all the way to the fork in the winding path before the cracking of earth and branches alerts them both to something coming.

Something big.

Steak wastes no time, not that he ever has before (though Red Wine may disagree, if asked), and rushes forward, swords at the ready, an effective enough barrier between the recruit and those vicious teeth which attempt to tear whatever they can find in two. ]

Run!

[ He's okay by himself. He can take this thing on, jabbing his other sword forward towards a leg, his arm aching with the effort needed to shove the head back and out of his space. ]

Get away from me!

[ It's a battle cry, rather than a plea. ]

[ One would think that Steak gets his fill of fighting just from his time in Dorchacht, but that case couldn't be more wrong. It's a lunchtime, or at least his lunch break, and he rocks impatiently back and forth on his heels as he leans against the wall of Diplomatea's building.

He's bored. A morning of lifting boxes has been all well and good, but perhaps a taste of combat is actually exactly what is driving this boredom. He's had whole days without using his swords now, and they grow dull.

Unfortunately for everyone else, that means that Steak decides the best way to remedy that is to practice his swordsmanship right outside the tea house, moving easily as he wields two swords around himself, impressively conscientious of anyone who walks too close, and slowing to a halt if approached. ]

Do you want to spar?

[ You know what they say about assumptions. ]

[Persephone had been flitting about here and there, out doing deliveries for the flower shop, happily gossiping and chatting to the usual customers. It's a smooth, easy shift and she finds herself a bit... bored afterwards. Restless as she walks the path to the house, tail swaying absently before perking up when she spots a familiar face.

Only to pause with a confused blink at his proposition. Quiet for a moment, before her lips turn up at the corners in an amused smile, mirth twinkling in her eye. It has been a while since she sparred with someone, so she doesn't want to risk getting rusty - and Steak doesn't seem likely to go easy on her.]

Very well, my dear Steak. But you aren't intending to do it here, are you? That might not be good for business.

[Or maybe it might draw in business? She knows she would happily watch two hot people spar together.]

[ The sight of a familiar and friendly face is always a welcome one, and he asks her the same question he's asked anyone else, not quite sure of the answer he expects when he so associates her with this elegant, glamourous appearance.

When she says yes, he smiles. That's the kind of answer he likes to hear, though her question brings up a point he should have thought about in the first place. ]

... You might be right.

[ He may be bored, but this is a sparring match, not a spontaneously started fight with the bastard who works in the book shop. They can go somewhere more suitable than where people are trying to enter stores. ]

I know a place. Follow me.

[ It's a couple of streets down but there's a small square nearby that should work just fine for these purposes. ]

[ Steak returns to Aefenglom with a pleasant, satisfied exhaustion aching in his muscles. His time in Dorchacht has been productive, busy, enlightening, and all he really wants now is his bed.

When he gets home, his head hits the pillow and he's snoring before he has a chance to think about doing anything like showering or taking off his usual leathers. Deep, peaceful, exhausted sleep, undisturbed until the sky outside begins to darken and, without warning, the house is enveloped in a deep, searing heat.

Red eyes fly open and there's only one real thought in his mind, quickly vocalised as he shoots up into a sitting position. ]

Red Wine!

[ He's on the move, backing away from the flames licking at his window, heading towards the door. Is Red Wine even home right now? ]

Red Wine, answer me!

[Red Wine had made a short trip to Dorchacht himself, finding it much the same as other places he has been throughout his life. Bustling, busy, with people willing to talk if you charm them the right way.

But he's back at their shared home before Steak, and barely rouses to hear him come in. Sleep, after all, is one of his favourite things and that hasn't changed yet.

The shouting that wakes him brings him to consciousness immediately, his eyes snapping open at the jolt of concern that buzzes through him the moment he hears it. There's no time to examine if it's his own or not, and he sees the fire outside as he stumbles out of bed and quickly drags on a shirt and coat, grabbing his sword up from near the door and ferreting a small piece of jewellery from the drawer beside the bed.]

I'm here! [No time for being waspish, he finds Steak in the space between their rooms and grips his arm tightly for a moment.] We need to get out. Make sure no one is left behind.

[ The physical contact hits differently for a moment, an almost dizzying sense of relief and calm washing over Steak, gone as quickly as it came.

They're together, which means things are fine. Even if there's a fire outside. They've dealt with worse. Steak doesn't need to answer Red Wine with anything but a nod, scanning their living space with a sharp-eyed glance — all of this stuff had been here when they arrived, all of it belonged to someone else.

Except for those few woolen garments Steak received as gifts last month, which lie haphazardly over the couch. ]

A moment.

[ The pieces are quickly gathered, pulled under his coat, and he hands the scarf to Red Wine. Food Souls probably don't need to worry about smoke inhalation, but better safe than sorry. He can make use of the hat as a makeshift option. ]

[There's a small spike of annoyance when Steak decides to take the time to collect up his belongings, but for once Red Wine says nothing to the fact - hadn't he done the same only moments ago?

Not that that would normally stop him, but he's been a little... kinder to Steak since the Bonding. Only a little.]

Hm. [He mutters, but he takes the scarf. What a time to still need to breathe, is the grim thought that comes along with it.]

Are you ready now?

[Or did he want to stop and back a case before they moved to escape being burned alive?]

Edited 2020-02-01 18:24 (UTC)

[ The majority of his things are simply things, but these few pieces have been handmade by others for him. Even Steak isn't quite that rude as to ignore them. ]

Shut up and walk.

[ Don't make him regret offering that scarf. ]

[Red Wine, childishly making a point, chooses that moment to toss the scarf he took back into Steak's face with a sharp flick of his wrist. Irritation prickles through him as he walks past and carefully tests the door knob for heat before he turns it, opening the door to a carpet of smoke.]

Hmn...

[Unfazed, he dips into his pocket for the piece of jewellery there and tucks it into his palm.]

Come on, idiot.

[ Why does he keep you around, Red Wine? Steak glares and bundles up the scarf, peering out into the hall, the cloud of smoke hanging thickly over the building interior. ]

Get down.

[ A hand tugs at Red Wine's shoulder, because isn't that what you're meant to do? Stay low to avoid the worst of the smoke? ]

Don't paw at me, Steak. [Red Wine replies waspishly, instantly, brushing the other Food Soul's hand off his shoulder. He hesitates in the doorway, a brief flutter of worry in the pit of his stomach, then forges ahead with his sleeve held to his nose.]

Check the floor below. I'll go up.

[ He'll punch Red Wine later. For now, they have work to be doing, and that is something they can always agree on. He exhales into the knitwear and his knuckles brush the back of Red Wine's hand without thinking, a wordless agreement to the plan.

They're linked now. They'll always know if something's wrong.

But still— ]

If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming to find you.

[Red Wine stares steadily at him for a few heavy moments, then shakes his head with a soft scoff and turns away.]

I'm sure you will. Come on, we're wasting time.

[There are only a couple of people on the floor above where he and Steak live, and they are already on their way out when Red Wine finds them. He quickly checks the other rooms but, finding no one else there, makes his way out onto the street.]

[ Downstairs is less successful. He finds that the lower floors have been evacuated already, for which Steak breathes a sigh of relief. No sign of anyone hurt, but the door to the final apartment is stuck closed and there's no response.

He frowns and presses his weight against the door, testing it, and finds it firm. ]

Dammit—

[ There could be someone in there, but the flames are licking at the walls and he's running out of time. So his attention turns to the window at the end of the corridor, which is easily smashed open, and Steak grimaces as he lifts himself up and through it. ]

Damn...

[ But he knows that dark head of hair anywhere. ]

Red Wine!

[He hadn't had any difficulty in getting out, having ushered a couple of people into the street and away from the building. Perhaps it would be put out before the whole thing was destroyed, but he finds he feels no particular connection to the place.

And then... then, there's Steak.]

Must you make an exhibition of yourself every time we're in public? [Red Wine snaps waspishly as he moves to help the other Soul through the broken window, flicking the fabric of his coat up over the broken glass.]

What do you think you're doing?

[ He could swear at Red Wine, or grab him, start a fight, any of the things which would normally be therapeutic, but there's no time right now. ]

The fire's spread. [ Obviously. But more importantly... ] One of the apartment doors won't open. I don't know if anyone's in there...

[ He's craning his neck to try and look inside the apartment next to where he exited, brows knit together. ]

[Red Wine frowns, leaning slightly to peer down the hall towards the closed door. The fire is getting hotter by the moment and if they don't get out of here soon, their efforts to escape the building might well have been entirely in vain.]

What do you want me to do about it? [He asks, pointedly gesturing to Steak's bulk.]

Are you telling me you can't break open a door?

In a fire? [ That's a recipe for disaster. Not that his breaking open the window was much better, but given the fact that the fire had blocked his way downstairs, he wasn't given many other options. ]

Can you see anyone?

I can't see through walls, Steak, how am I supposed to see anybody?

[Excelling himself with ridiculous questions, today. Red Wine scowls at him and then walks away, scanning a few windows with a keen glance.]

No. Now get away from there before you get hurt.

I meant the window, bastard!

[ Still, he doesn't want to hang around on the windowsill much longer, pushing himself off with a grunt. ]

There's nobody in there.

[He isn't sure of how he's so certain of it, but he is. There's no one in there. No panicked heartbeats on the other side of the wall, struggling against the flames and smoke.]

Come on. We have a crowd of spectators to clear.

Alright, alright.

[ Good. He's glad of that much at least, and wastes no time catching up to Red Wine and hurrying towards the people watching with open mouths and frozen limbs.

One more problem to deal with. It never ends, does it? ]

catch all log!

open / the starboard cat

open / into the wilde / dorchacht

open / search and rescue / dorchacht

open / near diplomatea

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closed / red wine

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