“...So shut your filthy hole before I find my fist filling it and crushing your larynx so we can all be spared of your groveling.”
The aggressive scolding Jira received from the armor-clad gentleman, whose voice surged with overwhelming condescension, left Felicia all the more red faced and distant. Although she was all for escaping the Rain Spider’s intimate limelight, she felt compelled to feel sympathy for the man. Whether it was sympathy truly deserved, she didn’t have enough time o give it much though before she bit her lip and gave him an empathetic sideways glance.
As everyone spoke, Griz made a beeline for the back of the graveyard, sparing everyone a simple glance before doing so. Whatever observations that they made, if any, were kept well-hidden behind their stoic one-eyed gaze.
“So we all heard some form of magic that a fairy used to lure us into spending an unpleasant morning amongst people that would be better suited for cleaning a privy than being called to some higher purpose,” the gentleman continued without pause, “If someone has something to volunteer that would illuminate why I should waste any more of my time waiting on the whims of a shrieking, glorified moth, please do so. A shrieking, glorified bat that I would like to point out sees fit to throw infants into some presumed crucible, probably as a sacrifice to your damnable goddesses. None of you thought that strange or worth speaking against? It’s no wonder this culture is rotting. You think infants are as competent as adults.”
Maryev rumbled, looking at each person in turn. “You are all disgusting.”
Felicia flinched—so she wasn’t alone in her concerns for the children. That was good to hear, although she hadn’t been expecting it from the likes of him. Even more unexpected was the small child that boldly stepped forward to face the brute.
"Mister, I was probably a walking corpse even before you were born so stop being a- a- a meanie know-it-all!" she shouted.
Felicia wasn’t sure what the masked child meant by ‘undead’, so she dismissed it. It was strange—the child seemed to be wearing an odd sort of mask beneath their other mask. Perhaps this mask was meant to be more intimidating? (Not being well traveled and never having had a reason to visit a place as dangerous as the Lost Woods, Felicia had no idea what a Skull Kid was.) If the brute was upset by the child’s name-calling, he wasn’t given much of a chance to express himself. The child kept talking and what she said next seemed to render everyone silent— but was it a hasty assumption or a shocking revelation?
Killing? …
killing?! Felicia felt a bit sick.
"Let's try and stay calm, keep our heads until this fairy addresses us. And who says we're here to kill something? I for one don't plan on going on a war march," the girl's presumed father said, stepping forward. Felicia was grateful for the voice of reason. Right of the bat, she noted that the blacksmith was probably one of the more “normal” ones. The next voice caught her off guard and she realized the shape she’d seen at the back of the graveyard was in fact a person in a cloak.
"While killing each other before she arrives would give me an answer to my question, I would rather hear what is happening in the big picture before the blood starts to fall. Does anyone have any issue with waiting?" the figure finished with an eery sounding creak to his movements as he approached the group.
Yeah. Kinda, Felicia answered in her head. Killing and bloodshed… is this normally what people thought of under such circumstances? She was still holding tight to her anonymous lottery idea (in spite of all sense and reason).
“None at all,” Cain replied, “I'd hate for us to tear each other into pieces before we learn why we're here. It would be so...anticlimatic.”
Speaking of anticlimactic, Felicia’s attention drifted to the graveyard’s entrance once again. Behind the two friends that had entered a few moments prior, a hulking figure appeared—lumbering up that path at a shocking height. He had to be
at least eight feet tall. The armor he wore vaguely resembled that of the brutish gentleman that had snapped at Jira, but he clearly wasn’t human. He couldn’t be, could he? Someone-- or some
thing-- that tall. Surely someone would have noticed? Perhaps it was just a costume?
Felicia’s hopeful rulings were dashed as the being unsheathed its massive sword. It glanced across the graveyard—not doubt mulling over the purpose of their odd assembly.
"So, I'm not the only one that heard voices in the night then? Or is this a party of some sort?" he said—rather anticlimactically considering Felicia was expecting him to start mercilessly hacking at folks. His statement perplexed her. He couldn’t have possibly over heard them all talking just now? Were they talking too loud or did this beast of a man have super powered hearing?
Cain instantly took initiative and addressed him. “Very perceptive of you! Except your second guess, which is fairly inane. Regardless, welcome to the club. We are waiting for the arrival of a sprite called Lethe, who will give us further instruction.”
"Fascinating,” the giant said, “That either means we're all insane or destined for greatness." Felicia continued to stare as the giant extended it’s hand to the corporeal form of Cain, as if awaiting a handshake. Before any such exchange could take place, however, a familiar sound drew the attention to the graveyard’s entrance once again….
“A
Sprite?” Lethe’s voice, preceded by her customary “sparkly fairy sound”, sounded a ways behind Epicorn. The small indigo-white orb with wings hovered beneath the graveyard gate.
“How vile—to be compared to those impish degenerates.”
[part 2 on it's way...]