There is always much to say when your mind is shaped in the ways, tribulations, and stories to which Mal’s was. There was always much to think, when you thought around the corners, sharp edges, and pitfalls to which held the man fast. Though all of these details, every single one, seemed to simply flutter away upon the colored wings of butterflies as food presented itself. There was no hesitation, nor suffrage of the thought of poison. Not for Mal. It was an animals nature to survive, and the amount of fat stores in his body were limited.

Even more so now that it had been burnt by the Wolf.

One could assume the man felt no pain with how he so casually injured himself at times. One would also be forgiven for thinking the same about Vel, but the body had nerves all the same. It had innards just like any others, and of course this included a stomach. A stomach that felt like an endless void with the unending hunger caused by overuse.

Meat. Protein.
These were the subjects at hand that replaced all thoughts, and already had the man settled up to the table. Fork, or knife? Forget that mess. Already broad fingers, that could impart artistic ability upon page, were implemented in a much more gruesome task. They tore thick chunks of charcoaled flesh from bone, and slipped bites into his mouth. No no, he did not ‘wolf’ it down, but neither did his manners seem to match the bow that he had given before.

For the vision of it, assume a noble trapped at sea, trapped away from any food for days on end. This is how such a man would eat, even if there was an apology in his eyes. In Mal’s case there was no such loss of dignity in his gaze, because he had been through this before. Perhaps not with magic, ravens, or goddesses, but waking up to unimaginable hunger? Yes, Mal had been on this exact spot before.

Besides, if the woman wanted to poison him, that too wouldn’t be the first time.

Only when the coarse edges of that fire was defeated, a slab of meat already having vanished to produce such a minor effect, those oak colored eyes dark in their woodland gaze, turned to the woman who wished to have a chat.

A Fool. The kind with the capital F. The kind which sings to Kings, and makes Queens laugh. Not a gesture, believe it or not that was a different breed despite what romanced novels of the past would tell you. Most royalty kept fools, because there was a legend that it kept their employers humble. The Fool’s would insult the divine providence of their birth. Would mock the kingdom, its knights, and its nobles. 

A Fool was there to tell the truth, and avoid having his head removed.
A bright colored, bell wearing, Jesters were just there to fart out songs and provide… poorly in most cases… physical comedy.

It was those eyes, the eyes of a Fool, to which sat now upon one of the three. Not a silly dancing clown in makeup, but one that should be ignored with more powerful beings around. One that just made jokes, pointed as they are, but of no high order. No high order indeed, but there was a truth there. A truth that Mal was trying to think how to gloss over.

“I am at your ….” A small bit of meat plopped into his mouth, out of the corner of his mouth the man finished after a swallow. “...service. Sorry, you really wouldn’t believe what it’s like sometimes. Least it doesn’t go straight to my hips right?”

Humor masks many things in life. A common tactic to even those of this day and age of towering cities of glass like this. This too hid a truth, small as it was, a small fragment of concern in his attention towards the now sleeping Turkey-servant-raven-bird-man-thing. Though that truth was hidden as it was mentioned. Was the worry for the creature? Or was that worry because it had mentioned ‘friends’ whispering in its head? Quite the concern turn of events, even for the man who held a key to the jail cell of a beast.

No mention of it though, at least not verbally, as now… while still digging into his first meal all day, his attention seemed scattered. To the other two ladies, a glistening finger still dipped in fats from the feast, motioned between them.

“From what I’m getting, I’ve just been served dinner by the Fates. I have Yatagarasu himself over there pissed off at me.”

Another large bit of food was placed into his mouth, this time the man actually seemed to chew, and thoughtfully so.

“Can’t be that. Yatagarasu was supposed to have three legs, wasn't he? And while I haven’t seen him without his pants, that one doesn’t quite give off that kind of energy.”

Talking, being a fool, twisting words… buying himself time.

It wasn’t like Mal could just talk to Vel. Not in the way that the Wolf had done so with Hugie-poo-dearest, but they were both in the same boat. They could feel each other rocking it side to side. The boat tonight Fellow Traveler? The boat tonight felt like it was going to capsize, and neither one blamed the other for the action.

Their world had been about each other for so long, and now they were dead center in something that was well beyond grasp. While Vel just wanted to prove himself, tear apart them to feast upon the exposed marrow of the power, Mal wasn’t liking this. While the Wolf had fundamentally changed due to their interactions, now it was the human’s turn to evolve as well. Funny part is, people like Mal? They don’t change easily. They don’t WANT to change. They dug their heels in the ground, shook their head, crossed their arm and announced themselves with ‘NOPE’.


Yes, even a Fool could be a fool.

There was no burp, Mal was never so crude as that, but leaning back from the table now his belly did look a size larger already. For only that moment he let himself show through, let his gaze turn hard as a cliff face, seemingly impossible without the right climbing gear, and none here looked like they knew how to freehand such an expedition. It wasn’t a cruel look, or even a threat, it simply was a mountain, one which people had tried to claim long before he ever met this little band of people.

It was gone though, hidden right back behind that mask of slight smile.

“I mean no offense, no jealousy, or misplaced anger, but yes, let’s talk. Your magic, all of your magic are impressive.” 

He gave an offering of a nod towards the ladies who could put a bird to sleep with a wave of their hand. They could pull demons from the chests of men in the form of globs, and that's another thing he’ll touch on in a minute. Give Mal a second, may not be his birthday but the man was… oh what's the term the kids use these days? Yes, Mal was cooking.

“But let’s be honest. Enough with the bullcrap. You’re no more the fates, or gods, then the turkey is his name sake. Thor hammering on his forge is simply thunder, electrical discharges in the air. The crossed god of Christianity was just a magician who pulled off some party tricks. Took humanity a long time, but they’re finally starting to come around to the fact that power and the idea of gods are two very different things.”

This was said matter-o-factly, and funny enough it was said in the tone of scripture, of absolute truth that required a man to have faith in it. It was fundamental to his thoughts, his belief, his slow way of life.

“I don’t know what allows some to use magic, while those like me have to bribe others to use it, but I know no matter the price I’ve never found a single mage who could summon a God. Never been struck down while I stood underneath storms and taunted the face of the storm.”

Shaking his head, almost sounding a bit defeated there.

“Arabeth believed in ‘your kind’. Prayed to nature itself. Trust me, she was almost a druid herself, the humor of that never has left me.”

Now that stone look was back in his eyes as he looked to Babd, eyes narrow, and almost threatening. No longer just something of natural height that could be crossed, but a demon at those gates…daring…tempting Babd to try to open this door.

“And do you know how her god repaid her faith? Her loyalty? Sent a small army of men like me to kill her family. Made her fall in love with an idiot, who could never tell her that he himself was part of that raid. Hell, the Wolf ripped off her head and used it like a puppet to taunt her child. Damn beast has shown me that fun little tidbit of information more than a dozen times over the years.” 

Tearing idly one last piece of meal from the feast, Mal looked at it, decided he was no longer hungry, and set it back down.

“So, how about we start with this? What’s your name? Your -real- name instead of this mythological bullcrap that everyones taken a sip of like some poisoned Kool Aid? Because I’m not buying it. I’ll call you Queen. I’ll call you Goddess if that really is what floats your boat, but how about just this once, for all of my undue pain and suffering… I get some real answers? I’m really, really, really, tired of how people with magic talk like fortune cookies, circles, or riddles.”

His hands folded on the table before him, his attention seeking towards the woman who only had one arm now. Then it switched to the sleeping Raven. Each one in turn he looked at studied.

Oh, it made even more sense now, didn’t it Fellow Traveler?
Why he was so calm about things?
A person walking through a Anime convention didn’t believe they were really surrounded by monsters. No matter how good the costumes are, there was always that knowledge that they were just people behind masks. Powerful people perhaps. Ones with tricks, gadgets and many kinds of fabric to dress in, but make believe…was make believe to the man.

He’s seen it with religion.
He’s seen it with poets, actors, and bards.
He’s seen the birth of movies, Elvis, and so many others.

Faith is a word that is reborn every ten years or so, and so was the word ‘God’.
God of Thunder? God of rock and roll.

It’s all the same thing. Just meant someone with a great deal of influence, and Mal? Mal was tired of being influenced.

“Don’t have any Pepsi to go with dinner do you?”
The Fool again played to keep the mood light.
The Foolish smile again to show that he was no threat or villain.

At least… not a villain yet.