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bolddeducktionneverfails · 3 years

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Selene’s Statements About Della Duck

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When it comes to Della’s decision with The Spear, we’re meant to believe she was more excited about taking a quick joyride in orbit than prioritizing motherhood. We’re also supposed to believe that Della’s crash-landing was the thing that humbled her into being more family-oriented.

But even with the show being over, there are still some things about this that leave me unconvinced...I mean, yeah, it was very convincing after Scrooge gave his perspective of the ordeal, but as Season 2 progressed, I began to question this retelling...

Although taking the Spear was presented to us as this big, selfish mistake that Della has been trying to make up for and get past, other cases that resembled this story or touched on a contributing factor, didn’t quite treat it as such. Space-related imagery and the like continued to be brought up in the background; even after major events like Della’s return, Lunaris’ defeat and Penny settling her homesickness...it felt like there was something much more important that needed to be said beyond Bradford’s small mention in the finale.

If these other situations in the series truly were inspired by Della’s situation and if she was completely in the wrong, then there would have been more things to further cement this to line up with Scrooge’s perspective. If what he said was exactly what Della was doing, it should be reflected in these other stories as irrefutable no matter how you look at the situation. There shouldn’t be anything that makes us want to second guess...and yet, there’s enough room to think about this.

Dewey and Webby meeting Selene in her garden was one of the first moments I started to question when I looked back at it. As soon as a negative view of Della was said, Selene immediately, without a doubt, went against it by claiming otherwise. At this point in the series, it could have been argued that she was just looking at her friendship with Della in a rose-colored way, but as the time went on, a lot of the information she gave about Della became evident.

In a similar manner, it was once believed both inside and outside of the show that Della had died after getting lost in Space. But the Sphere of Selene itself was hinting towards the opposite; that she was actually alive on the Moon.

Let’s take a deeper look at what Selene was saying about Della here:

“So, we’re back to “she stole Scrooge’s spear and betrayed the family” then. Great.”

“Whaat? No way! She loved her family more than anything in the world!”

This was suggesting that Della was always family oriented, not suddenly after her arrival to the Moon. This is proven through the episodes we’ve seen with her as a child.

In “The First Adventure!”, Della stayed persistent in convincing Scrooge that it would be better to take Donald and her with him, than to search for The Papyrus of Binding by himself. Later after he agreed, both Donald and Della had to get after him for caring more about his business than enjoying the adventure he was having with them. In “Last Christmas!”, Dewey had to explain to Donald why Della was so upset with him. She had planned for the night to be spent going on a mission together but Donald misinterpreted her actions and skipped out to do his own thing.

Even in the Pre-Spear comics IDW provided, it was Della who was chosen to remind Donald about what it means to be family in Issue # 3. And while the comics don’t determine the canon, the writers who developed these stories were given insight about how the show’s universe works and how the characters are supposed to act. The writers in both the show and the comics could have easily slipped something into these stories to demonstrate how wrong Della was to go into outer-space at the time that she did. In the child episodes, they could have highlighted her selfishness directly by making her want to catch Santa to steal all of his presents or having her extremely eager to make her own request with the papyrus. Why would the showrunners miss out on that opportunity...twice? Why are other characters focused on being in the wrong, but she isn’t?

As an adult, it didn’t feel right to have Della fussing at Donald and Louie for taking significant leaves and not being mindful about the impact of their actions, if she basically did the same thing. It never came off as not wanting them to make the mistake she made, it always sounded like she would know better. She was so quick to point out this problem she had with others that it felt like she forgot about herself. On one hand, this makes her look like a hypocrite, but on the other, this gives off the notion that being selfish and leaving her family out of big events, is not initially a part of her nature.

The closest case we have to better reflecting the Spear situation is in “Trickening” where Della’s desire is at a level of uncertainty that could easily be misinterpreted. In this episode, she wanted to join in on what someone else was doing to give the trick-o-treaters a memorable Halloween. She was aiming to share her love of the holiday with them, but she was so caught up in making it special, that she didn’t realize this plan was way too intense.

Donald was completely opposed to it like he was with her space travel proposal. He wanted to make his sister understand that she was doing too much, but she ignored his concern and tried to push past him. If Della was supposed to learn that she should listen to Donald more, you would think she would have taken that into consideration much sooner instead of having a huge relapse. Della showing improvement after a major mistake would be too important of a thing for her to revert on, so, having a similar situation in “Trickening” was more than likely done to help us understand something about the Spear one better. As the twins fought, he begged Della to think of the kids and she stated this was exactly what she was doing. This suggested that Della had the same mindset when it came to her own kids.

So, as both a kid and an adult, she has been portrayed caring more about family than other things like adventure itself or some kind of item she could get out of it. If she loved her family so much, then what on Earth would make her leave during such a crucial time and jeopardize the chances of ever being with them again?

“Last Christmas!” showed us that Della doesn’t adventure out on her own unless she feels like she has to. If she didn’t go out in the snow after Donald refused to come with her, then she would have missed out on her chance to catch Santa as a present for Scrooge. Like her Santa hunt, Della originally intended for her space trip to be a family thing. If a parallel is meant to be made here, then that opens up the possibility that Della took the rocket so that she wouldn’t miss her chance to do something special for her family; more than likely, something for HDL’s birthday that could not wait. That could explain her urgency and lack of detail in the letter she left for Scrooge.

If she was just taking the rocket for a spin, she wouldn’t need to word her letter like that. She would have used it as a way to express her gratitude towards her uncle for having her project built. Why would the showrunners have her letter be like this purely for the sake of suspense if we’re supposed to be looking for clues? This is another thing that is too important for them to have pulled something meaningless here. If she had to leave a letter for Donald about naming the boys for her too, then it sounds like she was doing something that may not have been able to be done in time before their hatching. Or, I suppose, in case she didn’t make it back at all. Either way, both messages showed that she thought about the consequences beforehand.

In addition to the garden meeting on Ithaquack, something else that made me slowly change my mind about Della’s decision was how she had brought her copy of the family photo with her. Having it placed on the dashboard in front of her as she traveled through Space, seemed to imply that family was a driving force in her choice to continue in the direction of a storm she could have easily avoided. In Scrooge’s flashback, it seemed like Della was enjoying the challenge she was faced with before the rocket was struck. But when it came to showing her perspective, she wasn’t having a fun experience at all.

“Aw, Della wasn’t just a good person...she was the greatest! And she made everyone around her better.”

When Launchpad defined what it meant to be a Senior Woodchuck in “Challenge”, I immediately made a connection to what Selene had said. It’s a bit uncertain whether Della became a Senior Woodchuck or not, but she was still a dedicated member of the Junior Woodchucks and that sort of implies that she was someone who often looked out for others. This coincides with how Della encouraged HDLW in “New Gods” and helped to bring the children’s feelings of inferiority to Scrooge’s attention. Della eventually helped to make Penumbra a better person once the lieutenant realized that her jealousy and suspicion advanced Lunaris’ invasion. The betrayal against the pilot made her a hero in the eyes of her fellow Moonlanders again, but it was through a lie and that didn’t settle with her. Acknowledging the fact that she messed up motivated her to regain her heroic title in the right way.

None of the points that I’m bringing up in this is to say that I don’t think Della was flawed or that she isn’t really an impulsive character, but that maybe there was a different kind of mistake she made with her rocket plans than what we were being told.

“Maybe the spear isn’t an artifact...maybe, it’s something else!”

“Your mom did love a good mystery!”

This part makes me think of the riddle from Della that the boys would later find in “Castle”. It led them on a quest to find a lost crown, but similarly to The Spear, they found out that this treasure was never an actual crown--it was a sailor’s hat in a duffle bag. It was within the castle’s catacombs where HDL realized that the riddle was originally intended for Donald; another character who is supposed to be looked at as their parent. An imprint of the Spear’s blueprints were later discovered on the back of the paper Della’s riddle was written on.

The way Selene mentioned mysteries right after Webby wondered about the spear being something else, seems to suggest that Della’s disappearance could have been due to her wanting to solve a mystery of her own. In “Last Crash”, Scrooge did compare Dewey’s hunt for the missing photo piece with how he previously failed to keep his niece safe from the cosmic storm.

“Here. It’s not a spear, but it’s a treasure even Della never found.”

This feels reminiscent of Della’s old journal statement about how she never found Coot’s armory. In this episode, it was explained that her younger self was looking for something in relation to the non-McDuck side of HDL’s family. Webby wanted to follow in Della’s footsteps and bring the boys with her on an epic journey to finally resolve this mystery, but once they reached their destination, it landed them in a room full of corn instead. Because the treasure was expected to be materialistic rather than sentimental, the trip looked like a big waste of time. It wasn’t until a spark was set in motion, that the characters were able to acknowledge the importance of what they discovered.

I noticed many elements in “Coot” that could be paralleling things in relation to Della’s journey. On her side of the story, she was determined to complete the task of celebrating her family at the fort, but a setback prevented her from doing it sooner. There was also an cloudy formation that accompanied a crash as well as there being a moment where her vehicle needed to be reassembled.

If Della was looking for a treasure of some sort in Space, perhaps she didn’t reveal this afterwards because, like Scrooge was with her, she was embarrassed about her failure. Selene implied that Della was usually great at accomplishing cases like these but this one resulted in a major loss that caused a decade of separation.

“Don’t give up, young duck. Your mother never did.”

There is definitely no exaggeration about this. In spite of all her struggles, Della continued to press on until she made it back home.

As I was observing the occurrences in Season 2, I noticed that there were key moments about her departure from the Moon that line up with her departure from Earth. If she was working hard to get back to her family on Earth, then there could have been something about Space that she was working just as hard to get to. If there was a particular goal with Earth that Della wanted to include the Moonlanders with, then there could have been something particular with Space that she wanted to include her family with.

Della had to leave the Moon earlier than expected because an emergency came up. That creates a possibility that there was some kind of emergency that caused Della to launch The Spear from Earth sooner than she intended to. Both departures resulted in leaving groups behind and breaking a promise she made to them. Della was very concerned about what the Moonlanders would think about her being gone and while Donald was the one who made a promise about never spending another Christmas apart, she had to have agreed to it; she’s the one who made a big fuss in the first place. If Lunaris' claim of Della being a traitor was false, then there's a possibility that Scrooge's explanation wasn't true either. What could strengthen this is how he was wrong about Della in “Raiders” during its own parallels to the Spear incident.

Adding on to what I said about “Trickening”, If both of these situations were meant to be reflective of Della taking the Spear, then she wasn’t using the kids to mask a selfish desire, she was seriously doing it for them. Lunaris told the rest of the Moonlanders that Della made up her stories about Earth to trick them into letting their guard down, but that was never part of Della’s plan.

So from evaluating Selene’s statements we can gather:

That Della was always family oriented and that betraying her family for the thrill of adventure or the sake of something materialistic, is considered out of her character

Della doesn’t adventure out on her own unless she feels like she absolutely has to

Della may have taken the rocket so that she wouldn’t miss her chance to do something special for HDL’s birthday

Della’s letters to Scrooge and Donald showed that she thought about the consequences before taking the Spear

Della may have not avoided the storm because there was something in the direction of it that she was trying to get to

That even in the past, Della was someone with the tendency to look out for others and make them better people

There may have been a different kind of mistake she made with her plans than what we were being told

That Della’s disappearance could have been due to her wanting to solve a mystery of her own

That if Della was looking for some type of treasure in Space, there’s a higher chance that it was of sentimental value rather than what we would have normally expected it to be

She was more than likely looking for something in relation to another group of people who would also qualify as being part of HDL’s family

Della might not have revealed this afterwards due to her being embarrassed about her failure

Maybe she didn’t tell Scrooge and Donald the truth about her outer-space proposal because she wanted it to be a surprise

If the kids succeed in finding the armory’s gold with realizing it...perhaps in some strange way, Della may have unknowingly completed her goal too

That Della was always known as someone who persevered whenever she had her heart set on something

Della’s plans to enter Space may have played out in a similar manner to her plans to come back home

An emergency in relation to her goal could have caused Della to leave sooner

There’s a good chance that Scrooge may have been wrong about Della’s intentions

If there was nothing significant shown ahead in the storm, then what was Della working towards? Before this episode aired, there were comments here and there speculating that the cosmic storm was a wormhole that sent her into the future. I think that especially at this point, it could have been some kind of portal. The clouds were in the formation of a tunnel and an underground tunnel was what led to the golden armory, so, whether she realized it or not, the storm could have certainly led to the treasure she was seeking. It could have been a portal to a place that wasn’t easy to realize until you’ve passed through it. The Shadow Realm was a hidden dimension that made Lena seem invisible while she was trapped there. Or, maybe like the wormholes in “Neverrest”, the storm could have been a shortcut to another area of Space.

If Della had a bigger reason for taking the Spear then why didn’t the showrunners go into that before the series ended? Maybe in a similar way to Negaduck’s return, they wanted to get to that but something caused a change. Perhaps there wasn’t enough room to conclude it while also doing the same for Huey and Webby’s F.O.W.L. arc. Interviews with Vulture and SyFy Wire revealed that twenty minutes had been shaved from the original finale script during finalization as well as there being fifty-five-ish episode ideas leftover that we didn’t get to see.

Another potential option for the additional Spear information is that was always set aside in case Disney greenlit a fourth season. All of the other seasons provided something new about The Spear of Selene and the subject matter is deeply tied to the series, so it would be pretty strange to suddenly stop mentioning it in the next continuation. Maybe Huey and Webby’s arc needed to be focused on first because there’s something about Della’s decision that further connects the two. I’m just...really doubtful that we were given so much build up against the narrative with no intention of it paying off at some point.

I would love to go in fuller depth about what I think could be going on with Della’s story, but it’s SOOO much work to put everything together for evaluation...I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get it done. I started a multi-part essay about this two years ago and wanted to have it finished before Season 3 but there was too much left to finalize in the last section….

Right now, I can only manage to make singular posts like these and shorter...but there are older, slightly outdated traces of my theory if you look around my blog long enough.

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welcometothepenumbra · 6 years

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SECOND CITADEL – THE HEAD OF THE JANUS BEAST (PART ONE)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, BELL RINGS, RAIN.

MUSIC: STARTS.

CONCIERGE: Ah, good evening, Traveler! Welcome to The Penumbra.

SOUND: KEYS JINGLING.

Have you heard of the Janus Beast? It’s been roaming through here of late, plucking travelers from their caravans and devouring them with its two bloodthirsty mouths. But don’t go looking for it yourself, Traveler; for a beast like this, you have to call a knight. Just be careful you don’t call too many of them, or they might make more of a mess than the beast ever could.

SOUND: THREE KNOCKS. CREEPY LAUGHTER.

Come, Traveler. Come with me into room 316.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKING OPEN.

The Head of the Janus Beast.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

VOICE 1: I think someone’s looooost.

VOICE 2: I’m not lost.

VOICE 1: But we’ve been tracking this monster for hours.

VOICE 2: Well, it’s a big forest.

VOICE 1: Whose idea was that? We don’t need forests this big. Someone should get in here and replace all this with something useful. Market. Tavern. A brothel, maybe.

MUSIC: ENDS.

VOICE 2: A brothel that takes half a day to get from one end to the other?

VOICE 1: That’s the dream, Tal.

VOICE 2 [TAL]: That isn’t possible.

VOICE 1: My God, you’re right! My sincerest apologies, Sir Talfryn the Cranky, Picker of Nits—

SIR TALFRYN: Stop it.

VOICE 1: —who corrected the grammar of the Queen herself in the Great Who/Whom debacle of the Crown’s Court.

TALFRYN: Stooooop!

VOICE 1: Fine, fine. But I don’t think I can take much more of this ‘forest.’

TALFRYN: You might have to.

VOICE 1: Alright, look; let’s get this over with. How do the tracks look?

TALFRYN: Well… they’re definitely the prints of a human-like creature. Big, too – nearly two feet from heel to toe.

VOICE 1: Two feet per foot?

TALFRYN: Yes.

VOICE 1: It wa- it was a joke, Tal. I meant, uh… nevermind. Keep going.

TALFRYN: (SNIFFS) Smells like there’s a stream nearby. Even ogres need a place to drink; its den could be close.

Uh, I don’t know, though. H-how sure are we that there really is a monster in these woods?

VOICE 1: Oh, stop it.

TALFRYN: They’re just footprints, Marc; someone could have just gotten lost out here.

VOICE 1 [MARC]: Someone with two-foot-long feet?

TALFRYN: It could be a big person.

SIR MARC: It’s more than just a person, Tal. We have eyewitness testimony, remember.

TALFRYN: From whom?

MARC: I bought a man a meal last night and he told me all about it.

TALFRYN: What man?

MARC: Oh, you saw him. Ah, the one sitting outside the inn.

TALFRYN: That was the town drunk!

MARC: Listen to yourself, Tal! For shame! With people talking about him that way, why wouldn’t he start drinking? A drunk! Listen to yourself. He’s a human being, one suffering from a terrible condition, and you reduce him like this. Next you’ll start calling me a—

TALFRYN: You’re right. I’m sorry.

MARC: Good. Now, this person suffering from inebriation told me – surprisingly lucidly, I might add – that he saw the last trade caravan when the monster attacked it! A Janus Beast, he called it: like a man, he said, with two faces, one looking forward and one back, and its arms and its legs would twist around to face each side as—

TALFRYN: If he was drunk, don’t you think his vision might be blurry? Like he might see two faces where there was only one?

MARC: That’s just rude, Tal.

TALFRYN: How is it rude?! He’s a drunk!

MARC: For the last time, I told you not to call him a drunk, you— (PAINED GASP)

TALFRYN: You always do this! You stay out until all hours talking to who-knows-who and you expect me to— the pain?

MARC: No, you just came a little too close and I caught your scent.

TALFRYN: (SIGHS) Hold on, I’ll help you down.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. BUCKLES CLINKING.

You’re sure these buckles aren’t too tight?

MARC: Well, I thought about loosening them, but decided I’d rather stay on the horse.

TALFRYN: Fine. Grab on.

MARC: (GROANS) Ahh, careful, careful!

SOUND: RUSTLING.

TALFRYN: Where’s the pain this time?

MARC: Just the right leg. Uh, lower down, I think, it’s… getting harder to tell.

TALFRYN: That could be good, couldn’t it?

MARC: No, this happens every few years. Leave it alone, I just need some rest. (SIGHS) They really should get some rugs in here. I hate the flooring they’ve put in.

TALFRYN: Dirt, you mean?

MARC: You call it what you like. It’s awful. You weren’t kidding about these tracks, though – they are impressive.

TALFRYN: You really think so?

MARC: Yeah, these are the sorts of footprints that smaller footprints use to scare their toes into behaving.

TALFRYN: I knew it! I thought my eyes might be tricking me, but they aren’t, are they? This thing is huge! Just think what it’ll do for our reputation if we kill it!

MARC: Sure.

TALFRYN: This has to be the one, right? If this two-faced ogre or whatever it is has been stalking the locals for as long as they say, its head has got to get us some attention… maybe even enough to convince the Queen to see us. Finally. It will. It has to. I’m sure it will.

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

MARC: You know, they say the more times you repeat something, the more convincing it becomes.

TALFRYN: Really?

MARC: No.

TALFRYN: Oh. Sorry.

MARC: For what? For not being confident? Next you’re going to apologize for apologizing.

TALFRYN: Sor—

MARC: Don’t! It’s an old joke, Tal, and you’re too young a joker.

Will the Queen notice one monster? Maybe. But will the Knights of the Queen notice? Definitely. They’ll want to choke us for stepping in on their territory. And if we want to be Knights of the Queen, we have two options: either impress the Queen so much that she has to enlist us, or piss off the knights so much they’d rather let us join than let us roam around making them look bad.

TALFRYN: Are you sure making the knights angry is a good idea?

MARC: After what they’ve put us through? I’m not gonna stop angering them, Tal. They’ll have to kiss my greaves before I stop.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

TALFRYN: Did you hear that?

MARC: Shh!

Go take a look. And hand me my sword.

SOUND: RUSTLING. HORSE SNORT.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) It’s one of the Queen’s Knights.

MARC: (WHISPERING) You’re joking. No, what am I saying? Of course you aren’t.

TALFRYN: This is a problem.

MARC: A problem! Try opportunity, Tal. This is just the confirmation we needed!

TALFRYN: What?

MARC: Does the Queen send her closest knights to check on every oversized footprint in the kingdom?

TALFRYN: I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to her.

MARC: No! Of course she doesn’t! If one of the Knights of the Queen is out here, we know we’re onto something big – something Janus Beast big!

TALFRYN: Well, it doesn’t matter how big the monster is if that knight finds it before we do.

MARC: Oh, Tal, come on! He’s not gonna get there before us; that’s what I’m here for.

SOUND: TWO QUICK CLAPS.

Dampierre! Here, Dampierre!

TALFRYN: The horse?

SOUND: NEIGHING.

Look what it did! The knight heard it!

MARC: That’s the idea. Dampierre, help me up, quickly!

SOUND: BUCKLES CLINKING. SNORT.

TALFRYN: I hope you know what you’re doing.

VOICE 3: (DISTANT) Who’s in there?

TALFRYN: A lady knight?!

MARC: Don’t be rude. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?

VOICE 3: I can hear you whispering. Show yourself!

MARC: Y-y-you show yourself!

VOICE 3: I don’t have time for this. In the name of the Queen, show yourself. Knight’s orders.

MARC: Alright. We’re coming, we’re coming.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

VOICE 3: Fun costumes you two have. You often go into the woods and play dress-up?

TALFRYN: Costumes?!

MARC: Please forgive my brother, miss—

VOICE 3: Sir.

TALFRYN: Mister?

VOICE 3: Sir. My name is Sir Caroline. You’ll show some respect and refer to me by my full title. That clear?

MARC: Perfectly, Sir Caroline. Please excuse my brother; the doctors say he’s simple.

VOICE 3 [SIR CAROLINE]: I can see that.

TALFRYN: Hey…

MARC: But the costumes you mention… these are no games, Sir Caroline. These are the deadliest business. Did you speak to the mayor of our village?

CAROLINE: I don’t have that kind of time to waste. People have been dying on this path, I hear – which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here.

MARC: Of course, but—

CAROLINE: So go home, hang up that cheap mail, and leave the knighting to the knights. Think you can do that?

MARC: Well that’s just the problem, Sir Caroline. We saw the cause of that death with our own eyes! This thing they call… the Janus Beast.

CAROLINE: You saw it? Where?

MARC: Just a few nights ago! My brother awoke in the night complaining that he heard a howling. “A howling?” I said. “We live next to a forest, you fool! Of course there is a howling. Go back to sleep, you’re just having another attack of simplicity.” But then he awoke again, not two minutes later—

CAROLINE: I asked you where.

MARC: Well, we went out, and we watched the thing tear this caravan apart – the legs swinging and its twin faces gnashing all of their teeth, sixty-four by my brother’s count; he might be simple, Sir Caroline, but in terms of mathematics you will never find a quicker—

CAROLINE: Where was it?

MARC: Don’t rush me; pacing is crucial to proper storytelling.

CAROLINE: Excuse me?

MARC: You’re excused. In any case, we followed the monster back to its den, where we watched it chew the bones of our fellow men, and it was so terrible my brother took to sobbing just like this. Go on, brother, sob.

TALFRYN: What?

MARC: I asked you to cry. Boo-hoo. Like you did when you saw big monster man?

TALFRYN: Boo, hoo.

MARC: Thank you for humoring him; he dreams of taking the stage one day. It’s tragic, really.

CAROLINE: Where you saw it, please. Now.

MARC: My brother was crying, as you just saw, and the sound lured the monster to us. We were absolutely certain to be doomed, until the moonlight shone on our father’s old shield, which my brother brought to keep him safe. The Janus Beast howled, and ran back into its cave – we suspect it is terrified of either steel or family heirlooms. And now, each day we must come into the forest to keep the beast within its den. It is our duty to our neighbors, Sir Caroline; I’m sure you understand.

CAROLINE: I understand a lot of things from that story. There’s just one thing you left unclear.

MARC: You must be mistaken. I was very thorough.

CAROLINE: Its cave. Where. Is it.

MARC: Oh, over that way. Ride for half an hour, cross a stream, a left at the grove where nothing grows, and then you’re there.

CAROLINE: About time. Listen to me: go home. Orders from a Knight of the Queen. I don’t want either of you to get hurt, understood?

MARC: Perfectly.

CAROLINE: And you. The… simple one.

TALFRYN: (SIGHING) Yes?

CAROLINE: Watch your brother. He has a big mouth.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS. HORSE SNORT.

TALFRYN: Was that all really necessary?

MARC: Well, it got us what we wanted, didn’t it? She’s off in the wrong direction, and we’re free to hunt the Janus Beast in private.

TALFRYN: Fine.

MARC: Then what are we waiting for? This beast isn’t gonna kill itself. Not until it gets close enough to smell you, anyway.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

TALFRYN: Whoa, there. The tracks are freshest here – still wet. It came up from the spring and went this way within the last few minutes.

MARC: Will it catch our scent?

TALFRYN: It shouldn’t from here.

MARC: We’ll move slowly, then.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) Stop, stop.

MARC: (WHISPERING) That’s it! Incredible! Look at the size of those swords it’s holding, and… those arms! They’re just like the old man said – joints snapping and twisting back and forth!

SOUND: HEAVY FOOTSTEPS.

TALFRYN: That’s disgusting.

MARC: Honestly, Tal, you can be so judgmental.

TALFRYN: But—

MARC: Anyway, Sir ‘Master Forest Tracker’ Talfryn, what’s standard protocol for taking down a Janus Beast?

TALFRYN: Well… in cases like this, you want to make sure you’re downwind, and find a way to sneak up on it from behind.

MARC: Good, good! Good plan, Tal. Only, uh… um…

TALFRYN: Only what?

MUSIC: STARTS.

MARC: If it has a face ahead of it… and a face behind it… how are we supposed to sneak up on it?

JANUS BEAST: You aren’t.

TALFRYN: Uh-oh.

JANUS BEAST: (CACKLES)

TALFRYN: Marc, look out!

SOUND: SWORD CLANGING.

JANUS BEAST: (SINGSONG) Our trap, our trap! We got it, we got it!

JANUS 1: Smashed it into sludge!

JANUS 2: Ground it down to meal!

JANUS BEAST: Tonight, the Janus Beast will feast! (LAUGHS)

TALFRYN: Marc! Marc, where are you?

MARC: In the dirt, no thanks to you! You loosened the straps, didn’t you?

TALFRYN: I just thought—

MARC: You thought wrong! Of all the useless—

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

Don’t defend him! You’re no better, Dampierre!

SOUND: SNORT.

None of your excuses! You ran, you yellow-bellied pony!

JANUS BEAST: Hark, hark! Do we hear?

MARC: Get over here and help me up!

JANUS 1: With four ears, we hear!

JANUS 2: With four eyes, we see!

JANUS BEAST: It lives! We’ll catch it, snap it, drink its marrow, gobble it, slobber it—

MARC: Quit reading the menu and fight me, monster!

JANUS BEAST: (CACKLES)

TALFRYN: I’m coming, Marc— oof!

SOUND: THUD.

JANUS BEAST: We’ll eat this one later; shred its skin and boil its eyes!

MARC: Dampierre! Stay back, stay back!

JANUS BEAST: And what is this little meal? Why won’t it run?

MARC: Run? Ha! I don’t run for anyone, twin-face. I make the world run for me.

JANUS BEAST: Ahhh… now we see!

JANUS 2: It cannot run.

JANUS 1: It cannot stand.

JANUS BEAST: Its legs are limp as watercress leaves… and twice as tender. (LAUGHING)

MARC: Well, we all have a flaw. With two faces you’re twice as ugly, for example.

JANUS BEAST: How foolish… The broken doll thinks it’s a knight!

JANUS 1: It will come to a quiet end, we see.

JANUS 2: No battle-glory, no sword-swinging or shield-shining.

JANUS BEAST: It will waste away slowly, in a dark bed, in a dark room, over so many years, wasting, wasting…

MARC: A quiet end sounds nice with you two prattling on like this.

JANUS 1: To be eaten would be an honor.

MARC: I’ve always thought so. The only question is how.

JANUS 2: To be eaten! So noble.

MARC: Yes, yes. A sandwich always seemed appropriate to me. Portable, but dignified. I’ve never really had the complexion for mayonnaise, but, you make do with what you can. Be sure to bite into me carefully, though.

JANUS BEAST: We’ll open wide and swallow, gobble, chew and chomp and—

SOUND: GRUNT, SWORD SLASH.

Ahhhhh!

MARC: I might bite back.

TALFRYN: I’m coming, Marc!

SOUND: GRUNT, PUNCH. THUD.

It’s down!

JANUS BEAST: Our eyes, it’s slashed our eyes! It tricks us! With but one brain and two eyes, it tricks us!

MARC: Brains are odd like that; they’re really about quality, not quantity.

SOUND: HOOFBEATS.

(GRUNTS) Thank you, Dampierre. Sorry for snapping at you – tensions high, you know how it is.

SOUND: SNORT.

Yes, yes, sugar and apples for all when this is through.

JANUS BEAST: (CACKLES)

TALFRYN: Marc, look!

JANUS BEAST: It thinks it has beaten us! It takes just two eyes, and it thinks it wins! It doesn’t know what we know: it doesn’t know that… (GIGGLES) …two and two makes four.

TALFRYN: You didn’t know that?!

MARC: Of course I did! Draw your sword, it’s stalling!

SOUND: SWORD SLASH. HEAVY FOOTSTEPS, WIND HOWLING.

JANUS BEAST: Two and two makes four… plus two minus two makes four… and two and two and two and two makes four twos or two fours plus two and two and two and two and… (CACKLING)

TALFRYN: Its head is spinning!

MARC: I can see that, thank you – attack it!

SOUND: GRUNT, SWORD CLANG. TWO POPS.

…uh-oh.

TALFRYN: Its head stopped spinning!

MARC: The head updates are really not necessary, Tal!

TALFRYN: But its eyes—

MARC: Yes! I can see that they’re back! Really, that’s enough!

JANUS BEAST: (LAUGHS) It fights on its horse! We’ll match it blade for blade – the beast with four eyes against the knight with four legs! (CACKLING)

MARC: Spin around it, Tal – I’ll duel with this side, you take that.

TALFRYN: Done.

MARC: That’s it, Dampierre, that’s it! Good footwork!

SOUND: SWORDS CLANGING.

TALFRYN: The drunkard didn’t think to mention that it could regenerate?

MARC: Listen to yourself, Tal! I said he was a reliable drunk, but he was still a drunk!

TALFRYN: This is the last time you pick the quest!

MARC: It is not. If you picked them then every quest would be, “Sir Marc and Sir Talfryn against the Larger-Than-Usual Breakfast!”

TALFRYN: You keep bringing that up! It’s not that weird to eat four sausages at breakfast!

MARC: Help us with this one, Janus Beast – your thoughts on the four sausage issue?

JANUS BEAST: We think it’s time to make this fight fair! Ha!

SOUND: PUNCH.

TALFRYN: Ooh!

MARC: Ah, Talfryn!

JANUS BEAST: (LAUGHING) Let’s see how witty it is with two swords swinging at it!

MARC: Still very witty.

SOUND: SWORDS CLANGING.

See? Definitely… still ver… witty.

JANUS BEAST: It will die! Broken little knight, listen and die! (CACKLING)

CAROLINE: Not on my watch, beast!

JANUS BEAST: What?!

MARC: Damn it! Not that knight again.

SOUND: SWORDS CLANGING.

MARC: Hello again.

CAROLINE: Thought I might see you here.

MARC: Did you find the cave alright?

CAROLINE: Yep. It was right where you said it was.

MARC: Wow, really?

CAROLINE: No, of course not, you idiot. I knew you seemed familiar, and I turned back as soon as I remembered. The Salamander and his nursemaid.

TALFRYN: (DISTANT) Hey!

MARC: A reputation! You really know how to flatter a guy, Sir Caroline.

CAROLINE: You know how to get underfoot. Leave the Janus Beast to me and go home.

JANUS 1: It’s too much!

JANUS 2: It’s too fast!

MARC: Sorry, no can do. My brother and I need this head pretty badly.

CAROLINE: You aren’t the only ones.

MARC: Sounds like an impasse.

JANUS BEAST: Stop, stop! We can’t keep up!

CAROLINE: Doesn’t have to be. How about this: whoever cuts off the head takes it. If you’re so confident a swordsman, that shouldn’t be a problem for you.

MARC: (LAUGHS) Oh, it won’t be a problem.

CAROLINE: So it’s a deal?

MARC: Deal.

JANUS BEAST: Too fast, too fast, too fast! Ahhhhhh!!

MARC & CAROLINE: (GRUNT)

SOUND: WET SLASH.

JANUS 1: (CHOKING) Little girl knight thinks a head will bring her respect…

JANUS 2: (CHOKING) Broken doll thinks a head will bring him a title…

JANUS BEAST: (CHOKING) But it will never find a title… it will never find respect… not for a thousand, thousand heads…

MUSIC: ENDS.

Not for a thousand, thousand, thousand, thousand—

MARC: This thing never shuts up, does it?

JANUS BEAST: (LAUGHING)

CAROLINE: Some never do.

SOUND: PUNCH.

CAROLINE: Well, I’ll be taking my trophy now.

MARC: Your trophy? I cut its head off!

CAROLINE: Are you blind? My sword is covered in blood!

MARC: You must have cheated!

CAROLINE: Don’t call me a cheat, thief!

MARC: So much for knightly honor. Go find your own monster, you hack!

TALFRYN: Marc, no!

CAROLINE: You’d better have the sword to back those words up.

MARC: Gladly!

TALFRYN: Stop! Just knock it off, the both of you!

MARC: Back off, Tal.

TALFRYN: I won’t! You don’t need to fight!

CAROLINE: I beg to differ.

TALFRYN: No, really! I saw the whole thing!

CAROLINE: You saw who killed the Janus Beast?

TALFRYN: Yes! And I have good news!

It was both of you!

MARC: That… doesn’t make sense.

TALFRYN: But it’s true! You both swung at exactly the same time, and your swords clashed right inside the monster’s neck, and there was blood everywhere, and then it was laughing, and then—

CAROLINE: What?

MARC: How is that good news, exactly?

TALFRYN: Because since you both killed it, that means that… you can both share the head! You can both bring it back to the castle and tell everyone you did it together.

(SIMULTANEOUS) MARC: With her?! CAROLINE: With him?!

MARC: I’m not sharing my trophy with her! I could have taken that beast down one-handed!

CAROLINE: Because you aren’t already at enough of a disadvantage.

MARC: Oh, that’s it!

SOUND: SWORDS CLANG.

TALFRYN: Stop! The both of you!

CAROLINE: Put that head down.

TALFRYN: I won’t. We’re bringing it back together.

CAROLINE: And be made a fool of in front the Queen herself? I don’t think so!

TALFRYN: I don’t care whether or not you like it; it’s what we’re doing. You can’t take us both on, Sir Caroline. And Marc, I’m not going to let you take what isn’t yours.

MARC: I guess there’s no arguing with that, is there?

CAROLINE: …Fine.

MARC: Good! Well, I’m glad everyone’s so excited about this. Tal, you sure know how to put together a party. I’m Sir Marc. This is my brother, Sir Talfryn.

And, this is the part where you say, “Nice to meet you!” or maybe, “I’m not worthy!”

CAROLINE: I’m not—

MARC: Or maybe something simple, like, “On second thought, you take the head!”

CAROLINE: You can call each other whatever you want, but I’m not calling a wannabe knight 'Sir’ anything. I earned my title. Neither of you can say the same.

MARC: (SIGH) Hand me the head, Sir Talfryn.

TALFRYN: No.

MARC: Fine, you hold onto it, then. One fat head is hard enough for me to deal with anyway.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

SOUND: FIRE CRACKLING.

CAROLINE: This is a waste of my time.

MARC: For once, I agree with Sir Glory-Hog. In the time it took to set up this camp and remove our armor, we could have been out of this forest.

TALFRYN: No, we couldn’t. It’s dark.

CAROLINE: A day behind because two impostors are afraid of the dark.

TALFRYN: We found this place by following the Janus Beast’s tracks; we’ll have to get out the same way. This forest is full of cliffs and fast rivers; stumbling around in the dark is a good way to fall into something and die.

CAROLINE: Well, what are we supposed to do, then?

TALFRYN: Sleep, probably.

CAROLINE: So that you two can take the head in the night? I don’t think so.

TALFRYN: Suit yourself. Come on, Sir Marc, I’ve laid out your bedroll.

MARC: I’m not sleeping, either.

TALFRYN: But the doctor’s orders—

MARC: Well, these are brother’s orders, and I’m pulling rank.

TALFRYN: But—

MARC: The second we close our eyes, Tal, she’s gonna grab the head and take off. Look at her! Those nasty, shifty eyes!

CAROLINE: I’m right here.

MARC: If she stays up, I stay up.

TALFRYN: Fine. But don’t complain to me when your legs hurt in the morning.

MARC: They always hurt, you—

TALFRYN: (SNORING)

MARC: What a sleepy boy.

CAROLINE: You could join him.

MARC: I think I’ll watch the head instead, thank you. I’d hate for a scavenger to take it while I slept.

Hungry?

CAROLINE: Yes, actually.

MARC: Here.

CAROLINE: …Thank you.

MARC: So, one of the Knights of the Queen, huh? Pretty new?

CAROLINE: I’ve been a knight for three years now.

MARC: Thought so. Didn’t see you around back when Tal and I were taking exams.

CAROLINE: That was a long time ago, I hear. But they still talk about you, you know.

MARC: Well, thoughtful of them.

CAROLINE: They call you the Salamander. Because you—

MARC: Crawl along the ground, right, yeah. They probably told you I cheated on my exams, too.

CAROLINE: You admit it, then.

MARC: Sure. To hear them tell it I’ve cheated hundreds of ways. Now first I was cheating because I needed my horse to clear the obstacle course. So I built up the strength to crawl my way through it.

CAROLINE: So they hadn’t added the ten-foot moat jump by then?

MARC: Oh, no, that was in there. Oh, that one took a few tries.

CAROLINE: So… then you passed.

MARC: Yeah, I’d say so. They said I couldn’t pass the dueling exam if I fell down, so we argued about what that meant, until someone said my stomach couldn’t hit the ground. So I did the whole thing on my back. And then there was the riding test, where they told me I couldn’t use my own horse.

SOUND: SNORT.

I know, old friend, that still fires you up, doesn’t it?

CAROLINE: And you say you passed all of those. How many tries did it take?

MARC: Two hundred and ninety-one. They ran the test twice a week; I took it every time for almost three years. (SIGHS) Not perfect attendance – I had to take a month off in the first year for a broken thumb. But I’m proud of it.

CAROLINE: Well… if you passed, then why aren’t you a knight?

MARC: It took two hundred and ninety-one tries for them to run out of hoops for me to go through – or I guess until they decided to bring out the big, flaming hoop. I’d have to talk to the Queen, they said – but the Queen could only see me in her audience chamber, where only one person could enter at a time, no horses were allowed, and crawling was strictly prohibited. (LAUGHS) Say what you want about the Knights of the Queen, but they can really write a punchline.

CAROLINE: That’s… (SIGHS) …not that surprising, actually.

MARC: Hmm, thought you’d feel that way. Our two-faced friend suggested as much.

CAROLINE: My story’s not so different from yours. They just… couldn’t find a final hoop for me.

MARC: Lucky.

You could say a little bit more about that.

CAROLINE: I could.

MARC: I did just tell you my entire life story.

CAROLINE: Short life.

MARC: It was the abridged version, yes.

CAROLINE: Listen, Marc, I’m sorry about your sad life, but I don’t go spilling my guts around every sappy campfire I sit at, alright?

MARC: Fine, fine.

What’s in the bag?

CAROLINE: Do you really have to butt into every single thing I do? Seriously?

MARC: Allergic to conversation. This is gonna be a fun night.

CAROLINE: My flask’s empty. Give me some of yours.

MARC: (GULPING) Just finished mine. Sorry. There’s a stream right over there.

CAROLINE: And leave you with the head? No way.

MARC: Mm, your choice. But it’s sure to be a long, thirsty night. That ration I gave you… it’s salty, isn’t it? Dries you right up.

CAROLINE: (GRUNTS) If you so much as touch that head—

MARC: Look at me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.

CAROLINE: You’d better not.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

MARC: Sir Caroline? Sir Caroline!

(WHISPERING) Dampierre, over here. Quickly!

SOUND: SNORT, HOOFBEATS.

See, I told you pouring out her flask would pay off. Now come on, while I load our trophy, you wake Tal.

SOUND: SNORT.

Keep it down! I don’t care how you do it, just do it. Bite his ear off or something.

SOUND: SWORD UNSHEATHING.

CAROLINE: Bite off his ear, eh? Not a bad idea.

MARC: Ow ow ow ow—!

CAROLINE: I warned you about trying to take the head. But honestly, I’m glad you tried. Killing someone over a hunting dispute might not go over well, but killing a thief… that’s just a day on the job.

MARC: Okay, you are pushing very hard on that sword.

CAROLINE: I am.

MARC: Just one quick question about that.

CAROLINE: Oh?

MARC: Ha!

SOUND: SWORDS CLANG.

Did you know that when you drive your sword that way, you completely ruin your grip?

CAROLINE: My sword!

MARC: Yes, your grip on your sword, exactly!

CAROLINE: Take your blade off me.

MARC: What did you say about killing thieves? Well. Maybe I’ll just have to take your head to the castle, too. After all, you know what they say…

CAROLINE: Don’t you dare.

MARC: Two heads are better than one.

CAROLINE: I can’t wait to kill you.

TALFRYN: (SNORTS AWAKE) Oh, you’re kidding me!

MARC: Yes, and what a jape it’s been. Go back to sleep.

TALFRYN: Marc, put the sword away. And you, Sir Caroline, you stay right there. Darn it, how long did it take you two to start fighting?

MARC: Fighting? Nobody’s fighting. We’re getting along like two peas on fire.

TALFRYN: No, stop. I’m not going to wake up in the morning to find one of you gone and the other dead.

MARC: Unless—

TALFRYN: No matter which one it is!

Jus- go to sleep. Both of you.

CAROLINE: I will not.

MARC: Well, I won’t, either. I’m not gonna be put to bed like a kid.

TALFRYN: Don’t, then. I don’t care, really. We’ll stay up all night together, if we have to, staring at the fire and wanting to stab each other.

MARC: I’m game for that.

CAROLINE: Fine. Nobody’s sleeping.

MARC: Nobody.

CAROLINE: Nobody.

TALFRYN: …Nobody.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

SOUND: CRICKETS CHIRPING. SNORING.

TALFRYN: (SNORTS AWAKE) I didn’t do it, I promise!

JANUS BEAST: (UNINTELLIGIBLE WHISPERING)

TALFRYN: Oh, good. They’re finally asleep. (YAWNS) Everything looking okay out there, Thomas? …Thomas?

Marc’s horse always talks back to him… Thomas, that you?

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It can’t know… we can’t let it know…

TALFRYN: Oh, that’s not Thomas. That’s the… the head.

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) Our secrets…

TALFRYN: Marc?

Never mind… you’re just gonna tell me I’m wasting your time anyway. Say something really funny, and cutting, like… “Hey, why’d you wake me up! You… uh, guy!”

Better at jokes… better at talking to horses… better at everything.

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It can’t know our secret… It can’t know about the treasure greater than our head…

TALFRYN: A treasure?! (WHISPERING) What’d you just say about a treasure?

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It’s not like its brother… Its brother is a hero…

TALFRYN: (HISSING) Stop it!!

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) Its brother is a hero, but it is… replaceable…

TALFRYN: I told you to stop!

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It thinks its brother is going to leave it behind… it thinks its brother will take our head and all our glory, and it will be left behind… and it is right.

TALFRYN: (GROANS)

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It must be right… and that’s why it can’t find our heart.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) The monster’s heart?

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) Our heart could make it a hero… we mustn’t tell it… it cannot know…

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) The monster’s heart. The body’s not so far… I could be back by morning.

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It mustn’t know… the secret of our heart…

MUSIC: STARTS.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) Come on, Thomas. Quickly. We have to be back before they wake up.

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) It mustn’t know… it mustn’t know…

TALFRYN: Alright, stupid head. Tell me about this heart.

JANUS BEAST: (WHISPERING) Our secret… our secret… (CREEPY LAUGH)

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: RAIN & MUSIC.

CONCIERGE: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider supporting The Penumbra on Patreon. You could receive episodes early, read our scripts, and hear commentary by our cast and crew for only a few dollars per episode. Please consider supporting the artists who make this possible. Every dollar helps.

You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories farther and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

This tale, The Head of the Janus Beast, was told by the following people: Stefano Perti as Sir Marc, Jason Mellin as Sir Talfryn, Leslie Drescher as Sir Caroline, and Kate Jones and Noah Simes as the Janus Beast.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our lead editor. Original music by Ryan Vibert.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m so sorry you’ve been called away, dear Traveler. We eagerly await your return.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

3 notes · View notes

dustmetal · 8 years

Text

Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System

In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future...for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.

Five of the seven occupants, all human got up from the corner table by the window at Grillby’s; just a bunch of people out for a drink until last call. The significant lack of alcohol being poured down throats or food being ordered had apparently gone unnoticed by the bartender who made no move to tell them to order or leave and definitely unnoticed by those in the bar who were altering their state of consciousness. The two left at the table, one a hooded and hunched figure zipped up tight into a hoodie, the other a fire monster who could have been related to the attractive green-flame female monster, or at least the same species presently tending bar.

Pushing back her hood to reveal a terrible case of hat-head, Undyne jostled Grillby in the side. "Well that went well huh? We're gonna kick ass at the awards show tomorrow!" She slammed a fist on the tabletop to emphasize her point and let out the whooping battle cry she’d been holding back all night; allowing them to continue their meeting uninhibited with the stage manager and the hand-selected staff from their significantly expanded crew she’d be bringing to the awards show to work with the venue staff.

"Speaking of, you gonna ask the Que--er, Toriel?"

"I...no." Grillby shook his head.,."I'm going with Andraia instead, since we both need to be backstage early anyway.. It makes se--"

"Don't give me that nonsense! C'mon, dude, We can SO all see you like her, you git! You get all stupid and start to talk like you swallowed a bad anime tape with terrible subtitles."

"It's. Complicated...." he muttered, trailing off then adding as an afterthought "...plus I don't think I'm her type."

The look of sheer frustration that crossed his face was something even his expression obscuring flames were unable to fully disguise.

“OH MY GOD!” Undyne’s reaction went from frustration to what was unmistakably a fangirl moment. “It’s a case of UNREQUITED LOVE! You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t THINK straight….although, um, you’d better fuckin’ well tomorrow at the show.”

Grillby let her have her moment, nodding a bit. It was actually somewhat not without a ring of truthfulness, he had rather obviously lost weight and was more tired than usual but well, his romantic life (nonexistent though it was) was only half the reason. Maybe not even half. Quarter. Eighth.

He was thinking about his life in musical terms now.

"So all this is over a lady, big brother?" Agni snapped the bolt lock on the door behind the last stragglers and ducked behind the bar to emerge with two leftover burgers for each of them. There was something that suddenly felt so terribly like deja-vu, yet not...no, more like an out-of-body experience about the situation, sitting here slouched and in his civvies, half preoccupied and half asleep in his seat, on the opposite side of the bar.

Agni hugged him around the shoulders though.

"Undyne is right. You should get a good night's rest. Big day for you tomorrow."

Grillby ate as ordered, grateful that Undyne did not know the extent of the situation; his feelings for not only Toriel but his feelings for...well, he supposed that in some way he was kind of grateful for Sans' ability to be constantly in trouble when left to his own devices, it had certainly given him an excuse for keeping him close by without having to confess anything about how he /felt/.

At the end of the day, Toriel, Sans...he wasn't sure which of them he was supposed to be feeling disappointed to be losing. Or, losing to.

Presently however, Sans being in some kind of relationship, whether or not it was with him or Toriel or someone he met off the street, should be the least of his worries. Come hell or high water, tomorrow there would be a decisive battle in the Subterranical versus Glamour Bomb rivalry. Regardless of who took home that trophy, it would change the course of the game. He knew a win was always the best outcome, and he dropped off to sleep feeling restless and what sleep he did get peppered with unusual, undecipherable dreams that felt somewhat ominous... but it could have had something to do with eating so close to bed.

***

Grillby woke from his as-restful-as-it-was-going-to-get sleep to find that the butterfly vs snake fight club was currently using the pit of his stomach as their meeting place. He stood, groaning a little having (not for the first time since becoming a band manager) slept in his clothes and he swiftly swapped them out for another rare instance of a casual outfit. He resolved to grab a couple of biscuits on the way to the Tuxedo rental place (and forgot) as well as grabbing Undyne's dress (from the local anime cosplay shop which despite his misgivings actually seemed quite appropriate for a black tie event). He re-resolved to get some lunch on the way back (and didn't.).

He finally arrived back at the bar tux firmly on and as ready as he would ever be to find the band waiting for him, his own father and sister in tow. . Agni gave him a hug and a kiss on the temple, his father, ever the stoic, shook his hand.

"Proud of you Junior." he said gruffly. "...and the rest of you too." he added, speaking to the group but Grillby knew the words were primarily for Sans and Papyrus. His father had allowed the Skeletons to grow up on their own terms but anyone who knew the elder Flame monster knew darn well he considered them as his own dust and magic.

He smiled genuinely, the first thrill of pure excitement finding its way past his nerves.

"Thanks everyone. Let's go ah, get 'em."

“Geez NERD! You SUCK at these things. Look, this is how you get monsters fired up!”

There was a definite snort from Sans’ general direction, followed by a clack of bone on bone as Papyrus covered his mouth before he could get a word out.

“... We are going to go to that awards show and show ol' MTT HOW IT IS DONE!"

Papyrus jumped up with enough energy for ten of them. "YEAH! YEAH! We're going to WIN! 'Cause we ARE THE GREATEST! METAL! BAND! OF! ALL! TIME!"

"S'right Bro."

"Yeah, even the internet says so." Jerry flashed around an advance poll he'd looked up on his phone that did indeed paint Subterranical as being a shoo-in for a number of awards. It was a rare moment of perfect unity for the entire band.

Grillby hated to jinx a good thing, but he had to admit things were definitely looking good.

***

Despite the fact that the snow had morphed itself into freezing rain and the driver had to pull the limo around the back of the pub to the loading dock so everyone could enter in relative dryness and safely, there was still something profoundly special about getting into a limousine.

"Okay check this!" Undyne grinned and Grillby simply let her spring the cork on the expensive and totally not complimentary champagne and clapped along when Papyrus impressively distance caught it, right from the opposite end of the elongated cab.

In what seemed no time at all, the Limo rolled up to the red carpet with a perfectly smooth stop and there was a click as an aide pulled the handle to, flooding the interior of the luxury car with a deluge of sound and noise. .

"Let's go, nerds." Undyne edged along the seat first, sliding from the vehicle in a practiced motion, the white silk of her empire-waisted dress fluttering dramatically as she stepped into the new world on the other side.

Grillby knew that by now his relegation to the penumbra distinctly adjacent to the spotlight was far more compromised than it once was, but he was finding himself surprised by the sheer amount of flashbulbs that turned his way.

A few yards away, Mettaton was surrounded by a cluster of reporters, allowing one of his stunning heel-clad legs to peep out from the slit of his strapless, silky dress, all in his signature glittering fuchsia of course

"Naturally, the real question is who is going to play me in the upcoming autobiographical movie: ‘The Mettaton Story’?" he was saying to one of the reporters.

"But of course I would normally consider playing myself, and with my talents, who could blame the directors for coming to me first, but it IS fashionable to have someone else play your part these days…

” He paused as if he expected the cluster of gathered individuals to chime in with a ‘how true’.

Some of them actually and LITERALLY did. Grillby had to remind himself that he was no longer anonymous and also that human perfumes and colognes were flammable just to keep from snorting.

“Besides,” he continued, and his gaze flickered unmistakably in the direction of the Subterranical party, "As my workload has increased so dramatically as of late, there are not even enough hours in the day for the band alone, am I right darlings?" He smiled winningly back at the flashing cameras.

With his own emotional response under control, he turned swiftly at to look at Undyne, but she didn’t seem to care. Either she had not heard the comment or had was exercising far more self control than he was giving her credit for.

"Miss Ó Maoilriain." Grillby’s attentions were brought back to the here and now as he had forgotten that his 'date' was herself a well-known figure in the musical community. “How does it feel to have your first post-retirement job be a Monster band?” one snotty-sounding member of the press sneered at her, eying Grillby with incredibly thinly veiled contempt.

""I was never in retirement." she said smoothly. "I just decided that after Ravenous ended a very successful career, I had the option open to work for the right band for me."

She very subtly steered the grateful fire monster away on that note and he began his headcount again.

Across the way, Papyrus was preening under the cameras, almost as easily as Mettaton, being asked dozens of questions by some gossip-rag about (unsurprisingly) his love life, mostly; what did people think of the rumours that he was dating Mettaton,? Or Undyne...or any number of human actors and actresses? What did he have to say to the gay and lesbian community?

The skeleton's apparent lack of any kind of sexual pursuit seemed to serve him well in this scenario; considering he seemed more flattered at being considered interesting enough to merit press coverage than considering the many rumours that had landed and answered quite similarly to each prospective 'suitor' inquiry with equal deference.

Satisfied that most of his band and he himself were doing very well, he turned his attention to the more problematic members of the group.

As it turned out, Papyrus already had Jerry well-to-hand, given that the first person he wound up chatting with after escaping his interrogation was pop idol Monique Mondale; the very same that Jerry had been bragging about his expectations to charm (the tight mini dress off of) all night long. Miss Mondale seemed to be far more interested in what Papyrus had to say however, but at least Jerry was getting something in by proxy - he assumed, at least enough to let him think he was.

That left him with the biggest troublemaker of the lot who was presen...oh.no.

Where was Sans?

Grillby's practiced eye scanned the crowd, increasingly frantically when he couldn't immediately spot the frontman, but then nor could he see any kind of disturbance.

"Oh ho, ho... It is good to see you, young Grillbert!"

Grillby winced at his seldom-used and much-despised full name, then winced and staggered as the sudden powerful clap of paw-to-shoulder sent him stumbling a few paces forward, coming dangerously close to pitching him on his face.

“Hello Asgore, Sir.” He gasped, not needing to face the source of the voice to know that he was in the presence of the head of Under the Mountain Records, former King of All Monsters and his boss.

"And who is this charming young creature?" Asgore continued, pressing a kiss to Andraia's hand as gently as he had roughly ‘patted’ Grillby's back.

The Fire monster blushed a brilliant white, but thankfully not for the reason that Asgore imagined. Andraia was a lovely human and he definitely didn’t have a problem with either her company or the quality of her work with the band, but the fact that he was nursing a glaring and obvious (at least to those regularly around him) crush on his boss's ex-wife was...well…

He caught himself and stammered through the introductions, relaxing a bit when Asgore introduced his own human date - fiancee (or so they hoped if some bill allowing Monster and Humans to marry passed), even. It did make the circumstances a little bit easier to bear.

It also helped that Asgore's new beau was clearly feeling about as uncomfortable with the massive party as he was.

"The crab cakes are excellent and you might want to get a few drinks,." she advised him with a small smile.

Asgore turned away to introduce himself to a young Japanese human with a spiky haircut and heavy eye-makeup who Grillby didn't recognize. Andraia snagged them some Gin and Tonics from a passing waiter, the aforementioned crab cakes from another (which were indeed damnably good) and introduced him to a professional looking blonde and a strung out redheaded human, both of whom were old friends of hers and veteran managers of various backstage areas. The trio fell into an easy conversation...for about five minutes, after which Andraia tugged on his sleeve.

"I think that's my cue."

She gestured towards - and Grillby's heart sank, the approaching and unlikely duo of Sans and Alphys.

On a slightly more positive note, Alphys didn't appear to be sobbing or indeed exhibiting any other undue signs of distress. Sans too seemed remarkably quiet, even downright pleasant around her.

Grillby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Stranger things had happened. .

"I-I'm afraid I need to...we should really..."

"Right." . Andraia nodded and followed the lizard monster, evidently having interpreted the stuttering as intended.

Still somewhat unconvinced of Sans' apparent innocence, Grillby grabbed a drink off a passing waiter that, from the smell of it probably contained enough alcohol to turn himself into an incendiary device of massive proportions if he wished it. Something of it must have shown on his face as Sans too managed to acquire one; incidentally despite the fact that the man had apparently long moved on from their location.

Deciding that actually drinking it might not be the worst idea he'd had all evening, Grillby knocked the thing back and despite the acrid alcohol smell, it turned out to be one of those drinks that was rather somewhat dangerous in nature, going down far easier than anticipated, but he did feel somewhat better for it and he turned back to Sans.

"Please tell me you were civil to her?"

"Hey I might have bugged her a little..."but you saw her, she ain't annoyed or anythin’."

Grillby turned the phrasing over in his head, fighting boozy inhibitors to suss out any hidden meaning in Sans' words

He decided however that Alphys reaction being fairly devoid of hysteria spoke for itself and he resolved to spend the rest of the night allowing the remainder of his surviving magical brain cells to ensuring the performance part of the evening went off without a hitch. Muffett was actually the first one they ran into, she seemed as impervious as ever to having arrive a touch late for the opening festivities suggesting business was clipping along as usual. She did in a more decidedly out of character turn however have a box for him and apparently one for Sans.

Inside was an intricate, strawberry-topped pastry in the shape of a boutonniere.

"Nice." Sans reply was muffled through the fact that he was already eating his, while Grillby was more enchanted; old habits died hard and this was aesthetically pleasing food if ever there was an example of it.

"This is...beautiful Muffett. Thank you."

"Oh it's not from me Dearie..." she winked three of her six eyes at him, and that made his stomach and his SOUL swoop in a dizzying way that he knew had very little to do with having consumed very potent alcohol.

"We're just heading to the green room." he informed her as though his thoughts were still right here and not off in bedroom land, choosing to pull his phone out and try to focus on anything about it in a vain attempt at mastering himself.

"Please pass along the message to Papyrus, Jerry and Undyne. they may not be checking their phones." . he added, steering Sans along by the shoulder blade so as to avoid getting strawberry or chocolate on his still-immaculate tux.

***

The most important category they'd been nominated for was after the midway point of the ceremonies, and fortunately after their performance, which was agreeable given that a loss would not be in the cards to tamper with their mindset for a good show.

This year the awards were being hosted by a woman stand-up he knew his father liked, She had very little to do with the music industry as a whole, but he'd been aware the last year's debacle of a host who could have given JERRY lessons as to how to offend every person in a earshot (namely by being in front of a world-reaching media platform,), so it seemed they weren’t pulling any punches. He could hear the MC introducing her to the stage, just as they arrived at their destination.

While the rest of the group checked out the backstage riders and started their pre-show rituals, Grillby paced around a small corner of the Green Room, thinking hard. As it turned out, the rest of the members of the band also had pastry corsages (though he was sure none but his and the Skeleton brothers’ had also included a strawberry rose), but at least the gesture being extended to all of them had helped put some of the more distracting notions out of his head for the time being.

"What do you MEAN you can't?"

And here they went.

Grillby spun to face Undyne and of all monsters Papyrus.

Nerves were getting to everyone he supposed.

"What's going on here?"

"Who told Papyrus he can't play a flaming guitar with his tongue!?"

"I-wh--"

Undyne ignored him. "WE TOTALLY PRACTICED IT?! IT'll BE BADASS!"

The fire monster went for the hail Mary. "...The fire-code people. For the building."

It worked, much to Papyrus’ relief, Undyne dropped it, but she could very clearly be heard to mutter under her breath something that sounded an awful like a variation on '...and yet they let you in'.

He sighed. He sat down. .He nibbled on his pastry corsage.

"Hey."

Grillby wasn't sure if if he'd not been looking where he had sat down or whether Sans had maneuvered himself in that tricky space manipulation way he always seemed to have, but one way or the other he found himself being tugged back against something soft and warm that was not so as a result of his own flames.

The fire monster let himself be ...cuddled, such as it was, falling a little bit limply against his new, squishy backrest. with a sigh that belied his true stress levels and (he hoped) just how well he'd been holding things together, up until now.

"Relax Gribblies, it's going to be a great show."

"Yeah. You're right."

Something sort of hard and almost-but-not-quite sharp scraped the outside of his wrist.

"Fricking...Sans, you bit me?"

He lifted his hand to his face to see the damage, and flames swirled back over the little divots in his magic.

He was tempted to stand up, especially since he could feel Sans laugh where his back was pressed against him

Instead he stayed down. He was comfortable and God knew how long that would last.

"Papyrus?"

"Nyeh?"

"Can you turn up the loud speaker a bit please?"

The skeleton who was not presently being a pillow nodded affably, setting down his guitar and in the next moment the sound of an entertained audience's appreciative chuckles filled the room.

Satisfied that there was no way he could totally drift off, despite being comfortable, (make that VERY comfortable, as Sans had decided to play with the wisps of flame that sprung like 'hair' from the top of his head) he decided there was nothing for it yet curling his long legs up under himself and simply waited for the first strains of Glamour Bomb's performance, the timing by which he had gauged their own pre-performance preparations to start in earnest, both in part because it would give them a good amount of time to accommodate for any technical mishaps that might occur during checks, but also because they would not have to listen to and subsequently be riled up by MTT, his band or any of the rivalry they represented.

Normally it might not have mattered as half the band were at the least professional if not strictly speaking 'chill' and the other half mercurial regardless of any outside influence, but he was unduly pleased in this case that the mercurial half seemed to be completely under an unprecedented wave of utter calm. One that he refused to allow to go to waste.

The deafening roar of applause and cheering was shut off with a crackle and a click that barely cut through Grillby's drowsy state despite his personal insistence that he would not succumb to sleep.

"BROTHER!"

He lifted his eyes to observe looming above them, expression an odd mixture of confusion, excitement and mild disgust.

Grillby snapped himself back to full consciousness and alertness excruciatingly slowly, up until he realized that he had a skeleton still chewing on his wrist. that was tingling in a very odd way. He retracted his limb and attempted to rub some feeling back into it.

"IT IS TIME TO GO, NOW! WE CANNOT BE LATE!” Papyrus, who had likely never been tardy a day in his life was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and looked more than a little wired. Grillby fervently hoped that his apparent nausea was in regards to his willingness to get Sans’ germs all over himself.

On to the first order of business. "Ah, Undyne. I need you to take a quick walk with me." he commanded.

The fish turned to him, the eyebrow above her good eye disappearing into her hairline. . "Sure, what's up?"

Grillby walked her away from the group, hoping she wouldn't balk at the idea. Normally he tried not to let his fidgeting show in his gait, but he had set this up without her knowledge and was none too sure of what kind of reaction he'd get from it.

"I know you've ah, earned your stripes as our veteran band member." he said, going for a certain demureness he hoped would deflect any potential ire, but regardless of how she reacted this needed to be done. He ploughed on, coming to a halt a few yards away from a patient looking Korean man with a youthful face and carrying a complicated looking metal case.

Undyne's good eye flickered to him curiously and then back to Grillby. and with good reason. He wasn't the type to spring a huge event without warning normally and he had more than enough sense not to do anything that might potentially demoralize someone before a massive performance as well. Still, he must have looked a great deal more dire he imagined and he attempted to soften his features as much as was instantly discernable by anyone who wasn't a fire elemental or....a member of his band he spent massive portions of every day with.

“This is Tae-Yong. I know that Doctor Alphys looked at your arm earlier today, but I would feel more comfortable if you got a second opinion."

Grillby braced internally.

Undyne hacked out a laugh. "Geez you are such a nerd. You're clenching your arse so hard you might leave behind a diamond when you dust. Come on, even I know you're like a damn helicopter parent with a bullied kid over everything remotely relating to Mettaton. I'm surprised you aren't insisting we be in one of those bullet proof Pope cases or something that humans use." she snorted. “Cripes, I hate to agree with the fatass---SANS." she drawled her correction and punctuated it with an eyeroll, "But if it'll keep you from having whatever the fire monster equivalent of an aneurysm is, I’ll totally let the little guy look at my arm. Yo kid, let's do this."

Grillby hovered while he watched Tae-Yong look at Undyne's proesthetic, but he was anxious to get back to the rest of the group.

Sans was one to talk about being uptight,. Even if it sounded like an oxymoron where the stout skeleton was concerned, it had taken the monster a very long time to start treating their human staff, in spite of any definite trustworthiness and competency with any kind of valid respect or at the very least to get through a day without getting bored and trying to prank them into enough annoyance to net them a cut practice session so as to knock off early.

"Go on." Undyne rolled her eyes. "I think I can take the little guy if it comes to it. Trained by Asgore instead of Juvie, remember? I’ll totally smoke the little nerd if he tries to boobytrap my arm.." She laughed at the expression on the poor technician's face, but Grillby was weighing his options and decided to go check on what sort of chaos might have developed with the rest of his band.

Chaos backstage was an omnipresent creature in general, and it was best to assume the worst.

Papyrus seemed to have been reassured that his tongue was heretofore safe from burning guitars, and was hovering by a young woman bent over an amp while he plucked his guitar, perhaps a touch nervously. The amp in question belonged to Jerry and in any other instance the whole situation could have been seen as a bad case of White Knighting, but there was a common force against Jerry that transcended appropriate assumptions to make about gender roles and personal ability to stand up for oneself.

Speaking of nerves, the lumpy little spud was practicing, taking a cue from Papyrus he supposed. Muffett was having a reasonable discussion about her drum set and even Sans was about as serene as could be, dozing on his feet instead of rehearsing like the rest, but nor did that put him in anyone's immediate line of ire or anyone in his immediate line of interest.

"Yo, we're all done here. Got a clean bill of health - arm is virus and bug free." Undyne came up behind him, and he turned to watch her make a fist with the prosthetic and pump it in a show of enthusiasm.

Grillby pulled out his mobile and made the transfer of funds to the young technician, shook his hand and bade him stay around the back monitors for the remainder of the show. Only awards recipients, managers and directly involved individuals had the prime seats and the back rows that could be purchased by the general public had been long sold out, but it hadn't taken much to allow an extra to join the behind-the-scenes hangers on.

Now all there was to do was wait and hope that the leadup did not belie the success of the final product.

The crackle from his cb radio was a confirmation from Andraia that things were a go from her technician's perspective and he copied it, then pulled an unused amp just inside the audience's blind spot at the edge of the stage, took a seat and waited, hovering on the edge of it.

On stage, awards were being passed out for something; Grillby didn't recognize the recipients, he thought perhaps it might have been Spoken Word but even if he’d been interested this was too close to zero hour to pay the barest polite attention. They were in the final moments now; behind the set-covering curtain, Subterranical were taking marks, roadies were scrambling to complete their last chances to make sure nothing had slipped notice.

He caught Sans’ eye, in part because it was flashing gold-blue; but it was gone the moment they locked gazes.

“...Subterranical!” the MC walked off stage left to screaming and cheering and it was on.

Grillby tensed without realizing it.

The song was supposed to be the single - 'Fuck the War Machine'. Sans had no problem with censorship, personally finding 'bleeping' network sanctioned ‘offensive’ words amusing rather than anything else.

But this was not that song. Grillby’s SOUL clenched as it went through a wave of nervous emotions

Subterranical was definitely playing a new song. None of them had managed to disclose it; even Papyrus who was normally transparent as glass had managed to keep the secret.

There was no profanity in the song; and by the second verse, Grillby had stopped panicking enough to realize that it wasn't a prank.

He began listening to the song. It was good. Really good. Better than anything on the album.

Sans' lyrics were perhaps what put the the band as over the top popular as it was. Sans sang songs of war and murder and 'dark' things and that was to be expected of a Metal group and it probably lent some edge that they were Monsters which had evolved into something ‘unknown’ and ‘scary’ for humans. His true power lay in his odd...ability - ability really was the only word for it - to sound like a veteran of these things, even if Grillby knew personally that he was more or less the same age as him. They’d met as children. Not even Muffett - the eldest member of the band had anything on that kind of a scale as part of her lifespan. It would have been one thing if Sans were a researcher with a degree of accuracy and respect for a sensitive topic, but this wasn’t that either.

The long and the short of it was that Mettaton was a decent actor, but whatever talent he brought to his role as Monster Performer: Idol to Human and Monster alike, there was no match to Sans ability to exude something that suggested he’d been personally present for major events in their history.

However he managed it, it had only gotten stronger with time and it was in full force now. The audience was going predictably insane.

Grillby thumbed on the button of the walkie talkie, legitimately struggling to keep his voice low. "Wow. Got me."

Andraia flashed him a thumbs up from the sound booth and with that he let himself enjoy the moment.

The fire monster was very nearly doing a dance of joy. He had sat down to counteract the emotional and physical turmoil of the long day exhausting his magic, but no one watching him could have known it and for himself being tired was the farthest thing from his mind. He was burning bright, white-hot and orange, gold flickering off him in such fervor that he had to sink further into the shadows, cheering along with the crowd, almost feeling as though he was louder than all of them.

Something cool blew past the back of his neck, fanning his flames and he whirled in shock and a thrill of embarrassment to see Toriel standing behind him, a bemused expression on her face and lips pursed from the teasing puff of air she'd sent at his neck.

"Why hello there ‘Mr. Grillby.’" she smiled.

He didn't bother to restrain himself, still too caught up in the moment to care much about some minor bashfulness and hugged her, unashamedly. "You were able to come!"

"Yes, Muffett made a small tweak to the green room rider." she was wearing her bakery uniform and was still a little floury.

"The gifts you sent were excellent." he added, adrenaline continuing to eclipse his usual low-key shyness. And he was still holding her hand. There it went.

He barely had the time to dwell on the situation as the band had made their way off stage and he was bowled over literally by a sea of bones, fur, scales and hair. The tar from Muffett's black lipstick managed to sear a lasting lipstick-kiss mark on his cheek and his air was being uncomfortably choked off but yet he couldn't think of a situation he'd rather be in. Papyrus hefted him and Undyne had a brief scuffle with him with him over which of them could supplex him better.

Across the way the crew along with Andraia were celebrating in an equal, though somewhat less limb-heavy tangle, which he found himself pause to watch.

“So take it y’aint too pissed off with the new song?” Someone said into his back.

“No.” The breathlessness of the reply had very little to do with the fact that Sans’ arms were locked rather fiercely around his waist.

He relaxed into the embrace until Papyrus ripped his brother away with a whoop.

Grillby went to extract Andraia to take them down to their seats for the remainder of the evening, after they were re-dressed and/or cleaned up into their party clothes once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sans and Toriel, huddled close together.

He squashed down the invasive spike of envy (and the still-lingering question of who it was for), wanting to get out of there in a huff...kind of...but mastering the childish impulse and busying himself with getting back on track until ''Professional Grillby was back in control.

He found himself , along with the rest of the band being hurriedly ushered out after the music played to coax a long-winded -award recipient off the stage, and the group were soon being served Champagne in an aisle-adjacent table. Grillby didn't know if it was coincidence or because they would be expected to be using that aisle soon, but he crossed his fiery fingers in the hopes of the latter.

As it turned out, Andraia won an award for Best Engineering on the Blue Album, which meant they were officially not walking away empty handed. Papyrus had been nominated for Best Metal Performance but lost gracefully to Metallica's latest tour (and he quite rightly felt there was no shame in that.) Still, it would be good to receive something band-specific for their troubles and Grillby found himself fidgeting through Lil' Hal's acceptance speech for best Hip Hop Artist more than he'd like to admit.

Monique Mondale was the presenter for the newly crafted Monster-produced album award and she had a short speech prepared on the importance of Asgore's significance in forming Under the Mountain records and how it was significant that this year there were enough Monster performers to create a category for awards.

Everyone knew including Punk Hamster himself that the race was between Glamour Bomb and Subterranical but the rodent-like creature waved at the cameras when they trained themselves on him.

Grillby tried to relax himself, but even using the big screen as a reference couldn't seem to unclench his muscles. Never had he been so grateful for his elemental nature - most anyone watching who wasn't familiar with a fire elemental would be able to read his body language for what it was.

Of course, his whole family would likely have something to say about it later.

Up on stage, Monique had come to the end of the ‘drawing out the suspense for extended viewing’ portion of her presentation and slid a manicured nail under the seal of the envelope. She bent near the microphone.

"And the winner of the award for Best new Monster artist is..."

She used the expectant pause to slide out the paper and bring it to eye level. "Subterranical!"

The declaration rang out to Grillby's ears las though it was screamed at decibel level. They’d won. There was no mistake about it.

Beside him, Undyne was impressively wrestling Jerry back into his seat with one arm on the pretense of a congratulatory hug and trying to maneuver Papyrus into getting up and making his way to the stage with her leg.

The tall skeleton walked to the stage, receiving a kiss on the cheek bone and a half-air hug from Monique and leaning down to the microphone even though it was hefted to its furthest height to read the brief speech.

“No, it IS fair, Mettaton...!”

In the chaos it took everyone a moment to realize that the voice that was speaking was not Papyrus'.

“...A-after...after what w-we did...we...di...didn't deserve to win."

Papyrus fell silent, realizing that he wasn’t being listened to and a horrified expression crossing his face as he finally processed just what was interrupting him. Even the curious buzzing that had started up had died down to near complete silence now, with the tv coverage crew having located the source of the unfamiliar, nervous soprano stutter.

"Y...You nearly killed Undyne." The cameras had zeroed in on Alphys, who was standing at her unimpressive full height over the seated and blank-looking Mettaton and twisting the bodice of her black polkadotted evening dress in her claws. If she was aware she was on television she either hadn't noticed or had moved beyond caring.

"A-and...and I kn--know it was a-an a-a-a-accident." her stuttering became more pronounced in her half-determined, half fearful bravado. "B-but...you---you made me lie and I don't want to lie and hide things Mettaton!I ...I hate it and Undyne deserves to win and we do not. A-and I...I-d-don’t care i-if you fire m-me! I q-quit!"

Sans folded his hands across his stomach peaceably. Undyne's face was now the one on camera but she seemed unusually calm.

At the end of the row, Grillby stood up.

He found himself walking down to the row of tables by the stage, . He saw the cameras follow his progress in his periphery vision. .

The entire room of elegantly dressed people was silent in the wake of Alphys’ pronouncement and (he acknowledged it as being) Sans retaliatory ‘prank’ . Grillby came to a halt at the end of the row in front of the duo, rooted to the spot and staring at the both of them. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. That was generally the case as with no incredibly obvious facial ticks or features, but this was a whole different case.

Sans might have made a joke about ‘frozen’ and ‘irony’ but it was just so eerie.

Mettaton stood and finding himself almost immediately in Grillby’s face, took a careful step back, almost stumbling over his carefully crafted pink spile of a heel; an impressive feat for a robot with servos and motors designed to keep his balance level at all times.

Sans had sat up a little bit from his initial pleased ‘innocent observer’ slump but now was quite aware that what to come next was not good. Grillby had, it seemed, run totally out of his last vestiges of patience.

[Maybe this timeline had finally run its course.]

The fire monster reared up like a cobra - he was certainly tall but had always been thinner than even Papyrus (or so said Sans), In that moment however he seemed intimidatingly huge, his face, livid with blue-white flames looming down over Metaton’s .

“If you ever.” he began, voice dripping with bile “Come near my band again, I will find out EXACTLY how much heat it will take to melt magic-imbued metal.”

He plucked the award out of Papyrus’ fingers, turning to find him there; presumably to stop him but the elemental didn’t even miss a beat. The stunned guitarist didn’t make a move and he ascended the stairs, and very calmly placed it onto the podium. “We do not want this.” he informed the dumbstruck Idol hostess with quiet politeness, for all the world sounding as though he was returning a pair of trousers he’d discovered a stain on just out of the store.

He ushered himself off the end of the stage and as one the remainder of the Subterranical party stood. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. Grillby offered his hand to Andraia who barely hesitated to take it.

Internally he was delighted he had not found time to ask Toriel to be his date as he had initially planned. He swept her down the aisle before the confused and grateful looking security guards could react, stopping only at the auditorium doors to turn back.

Subterranical gazed back at him.

His eyes were kind now but his voice brooked no argument. “Let’s go home.”

***

The rest of the night passed in such a blur Grillby could have been intoxicated for all he remembered of it, though at least that would have been a better excuse. Much like being drunk the enormity of his actions at the ceremony hit him all at once once he had rubbed a decent amount of sleep from his eyes.

He had behaved foolishly, impulsively and childishly, so focussed on and distracted with his ridiculous (and nonexistent) love life he'd let his professional one slide into the proverbial ditch.

He dressed himself in a casual jumper and jeans and peered into the mirror. There would be a lot of work to do.

He had to start right away.

He was still livid.

Stepping out of his room, he predictably found the entirety of the band clustered around the dinette table as best they could, waiting for him and not even bothering to bicker about personal space.

Apparently somewhere in the last 12 hours or so, the table had acquired a new centerpiece - namely their award from the previous night.

Grillby had a pretty good idea where - or more accurately, by whose hand that had come from.

He tore his gaze from it and tried to spread it evenly among the rest of the group.

He took a deep breath and let it out, willing away some of his ire, even if he could feel his own flames licking as white as they had the previous night.

He opened his mouth. He was going to apologize, explain himself, ask forgiveness. Instead, he told them only two words. "September 6."

That said, he turned and exited into the kitchen, letting the door click quietly behind him.

Subterranical looked at each other from across the cramped Banquette.

70 days, 22 Hours, 35 minutes and 8 seconds before the next album dropped….

End of Season 1

To Come in Season 2…:

Grillby lay back comfortably on the bed, catching a rare moment of comfort and uninterrupted rest in the the peace of his hotel room. He scraped the last bit of pasta off the admittedly well-made room service plate and got up to put it outside for collection by the staff, only to be greeted by Papyrus, one hand raised pre-knock.

***

"DARLINGS! We are here for our turn to use the soundstage!"

***

“‘Sup Pap?”

“What’s this?”

“Well that would be food Papyrus. That’s what you tend to find in a fridge.” she’d been somewhat quiet since the moment of Alphys painful confession, but even she couldn’t keep the sass out of her voice.

“I KNOW THAT.” the Skeleton put his hand on his hip bone and then and grabbed the door before it could swing back shut. “BUT ALL OF THIS TUPPERWARE!”

***

"Yes." he said rather stupidly.

"I am sorry, I asked if you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch."

“Still yes.”

#frankpanioncube writes #this is not a test of the emergency broadcast system #tw: catty paparazzi #tw: emotional abuse #tw: alcohol use #one sided relationships

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damienthepious · 4 years

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INTERNALLY I AM SCREAMING EXTERNALLY I AM ALSO SCREAMING,,, BUT LET’S HAVE SOME BOUQUET WHILE I SCREAM INTO A PILLOW.

Even With Missteps (chapter 3)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ao3] [ch 4] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary: There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary We are attempting to be fair. There is still at least one dance that is owed.

Chapter Notes: i'm so fucking gay y'all. can i mention again this was supposed to just be a one shot? how LONG is this now? oh my god. anyway now there HAS to be a fourth chapter, because i completely changed how this chapter was supposed to end and things have gone entirely off the rails again. this is a mess. hit me up on tumblr if you wanna know how this was SUPPOSED to end. also please go listen to the new episode i'm DYING.

Arum descends, his mind still roiling and disbelieving, and his claws click lightly on the stone when he reaches the balcony level again, but there is no one close enough by to hear, or to see. No sharp-eyed attendees attend his presence, this time.

As such… Arum indulges one more moment. He glances towards the window above, and through the darkness and the curtains he can see nothing in truth. He imagines shadows in the room, at least. Imagines the shape of his honeysuckle, awkwardly explaining his absence to a colleague, explaining that he had, of course, found nothing of interest in the Queen’s chambers.

... Arum still does not understand.

Many things, if he is being honest with himself, as he so rarely is. He does not understand Sir Damien, does not understand this sharp-fanged little basilisk with his lilting voice and his gentle eyes, his sharp arrows and his bright laugh. He does not understand why a knight would ever, ever suffer a monster to live. Not under any circumstances, let alone such ridiculous ones as these.

Humans. Baffling creatures… though, not quite in the way Arum expected them to be. He turns his attention towards a sharp noise back inside, looking through the sheer curtains into the party, and he watches a pair of human hatchlings - children, he thinks - laughing uncontrollably beneath their chickenfeather-harpy costumes as they swing each other's hands back and forth. Arum shakes his head quickly, turning away, and then he gives the window above one more glance.

Arum does not understand his own reactions, either. The knight failed to perform his duty- but Arum has done much the same. The knight should be dead.

Two dances, and Arum is made a fool. He scoffs at himself, digging the claws of his hidden lower hands into his midsection to try to suppress the way his stomach jumps in discomfort, and… he is still staring at the window above. He does not have time for this. He does not. He should already be on his way home in the understanding that this evening has been a failure, or better yet he should be looking for some way to salvage this, some other alternative focus he can select for his prototype. There is no cause for him to waste time in musing, he can worry over his own stupidity in the Keep, when he is safe-

“Hey there, stranger.”

Arum whirls on the voice, realizing quite a bit too late that there is a human closer than is comfortable. He manages, by a fraction, not to hiss instinctively. His cover may not be completely intact anymore, but that is no reason to toss it out while it may still serve him.

The human is small, though not as small as his basilisk- as Sir Damien, rather. Her mask is brassy, with a sharp pointed beak over her nose, beneath which she is grinning at Arum in a way that would put him instantly on edge, were he not already tense to begin with.

She is also, decidedly, in the way of his current escape route, back through the party.

“Er- greetings,” Arum awkwardly grates out, and the human’s grin, if anything, tilts wider. “If you will pardon-”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll pardon. Care for a dance?”

Arum stares down at her, wondering if the sheer force of his confusion and irritation are properly conveyed through his mask. “No.”

She raises an eyebrow, shimmering red and gold dusting her dark skin in stylized flaming streaks. “No?”

“I am leaving, I do not have-”

“It’s Arum, right?”

Arum flinches, then freezes, and he is glad, at least, that the human cannot see his panicked face.

“Excuse me?” he barks. “Who- how-”

“You’re the one who stole a dance from my partner earlier tonight,” she says slyly, coming closer while he stands stock-still.

“You-” Arum swallows uncomfortably, glancing again towards the window above for a moment, but he still cannot see anyone looking down towards the balcony. “You are attached to h- Sir Damien, then?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” She shrugs. “So what I figure is, you technically stole a dance that should have been mine, right?”

“I- I don’t have time for-”

“So you owe me a dance, then.”

“What?”

She grins, the sharp white curve of her teeth intersected by the triangle of her mask’s beak, and she edges even closer, and despite Arum’s instincts he knows he cannot back away or else it will show too much weakness in front of this little creature. He cannot obey the traitorous instincts urging him to lean into her mammal heat, either. Obviously.

“I said you owe me a dance, Arum, and you look like you’re about to bolt out of here, so I know I gotta take what’s owed to me now or I might not get another chance.” Her smile shifts a little less predatory, a little more warm instead of hot, and she lifts her hand towards him in request. “Just one dance. One dance won’t kill you, will it?”

Arum does not look back up towards the window above, does not look over the human’s shoulder to see if any knights are coming their way, and thinks that perhaps, just maybe, it might kill him. There is something undeniable in her eyes, though. Something in the certainty of her posture and her smile. And-

Dancing with Damien had been… not unpleasant. It stands to reason that if this little creature is his usual partner, it is likely that she will be similarly skilled, will she not? And Arum may have already settled his debts, so to speak, with Damien, but this human cannot possibly know that, and- and Arum still needs to cross the room again, to make his escape. None would expect a thief to return to cavorting and revelry after he was nearly found out, would they?

He has waited too long in the consideration. The human leans just slightly closer, and one of her hands reaches, brushing her gloved fingers (still impossibly hot, a phoenix she is dressed as and she has equal fire, certainly-) against his own, and without thinking he spreads his fingers, allowing her to take his hand properly.

Well. The decision is made, though he is still not convinced that he is the one who made it.

Arum steps closer, breath leaving him in a sigh, and her eyes go bright and delighted above the curve of her beak.

“I suppose… if the fairness matters so much, if settling the score is so very important to you, little phoenix-”

Her other hand moves to the correct place upon him, but then slips a past that, just skirting the edge of propriety as she slots herself a little too close, very much too warm. Must all these creatures run hearth-hot?

“I’m not, really. Concerned with the fairness, I mean,” she says with a wicked little grin as they begin to sway together. “It is a really good excuse, though.”

Arum-

Laughs. A helpless little breath of it escapes between his teeth, and apparently that encourages her because her grin grows wider.

Arum's estimations of her dancing prowess were correct, in a way. She is not unpleasant to dance with, as Damien was not, but her style is markedly different. Damien dances with a certain elegance, a feeling of controlled grace. This little phoenix is skilled, but there is more joy here than elegance by a wide gulf. She knows precisely what she is doing, but she clearly intends to enjoy every step, regardless of propriety or decorum. An admirable attitude, so far as Arum is concerned.

"You are unconcerned with your former partner as well, then?" Arum asks, because it seems like something a human would care about. The little phoenix gives her own laugh, tossing her head back to do so, and the unselfconsciousness of the gesture makes Arum's frill shiver with the desire to flare beneath the constriction of his mask.

"I'm almost always concerned about Damien in one way or the other," she says with a shrug that shifts her skin against Arum's palm. "But considering that he's run off from a party to do work - again - I don't think he'll mind too much if I find someone else to entertain me for a little while."

"I am not entertainment," Arum grumbles, but his footwork does not falter with the complaint, and the way her eyes glint as she smirks up at him makes the claim feel rather flimsy.

"Besides," she continues, entirely ignoring his protest, "it'd be pretty hypocritical for him to complain about it, don't you think?"

"I- I suppose-"

"He knows how to pick a partner, though," she says, and there is no small degree of smugness in her tone as she guides their steps in a gentle sort of circle around the wide balcony. "You're kind of a natural at this."

"O-oh," Arum says. While they dance, he cannot exactly look away from her, cannot distract himself from the warmth of her body or her words. "Oh. Th-thank you." He pauses, attempting for a long moment to focus more on his surroundings, and then he processes the words the human spoke aside from her compliment. "Though- though, I picked him, not the other way around."

"Hm," she says. "Out of curiosity, why did you pick him, anyway? It's a big sort of party, lots of folks to choose from…"

"He-" Arum stutters, but there do not appear to be any further words ready to rise to his tongue.

You are the only monster here who has interested me in the least. Those were the words he whispered into Sir Damien's ear when first he gathered the knight into his arms, and- and Arum, at the time, had assumed himself a liar. He is unsure, now, if he had been, but that memory-

Elegant little basilisk with longing in his eyes, still amidst a sea of movement, drawing Arum's eyes as bright as the rising sun-

"He has… an air about him," Arum settles on, his voice stilted and soft, and the little phoenix give a much more gentle smile, then.

"He really does, doesn't he?" She sighs then, and when she glances back up at him from beneath her mask her expression is wry. "Alright, okay, I should stop teasing. It's not like I can blame you for being charmed- or for being charming."

Arum barks a laugh, too surprised to do anything else. "Charming-"

"You were gonna leave before I interrupted, right? Let me dance you across the ballroom, at least. Then you can just take off, if you'd like."

Arum blinks down at her, utterly baffled. "Are all-" he pauses, "people from this Citadel like the pair of you?" Arum asks incredulously, tilting his head as he looks down at the creature in his arms.

"Like what?"

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again quickly.

Compelling, he had nearly hissed. Enthralling. Fascinating and clever and warm and draped with a deceptive air of comfort, despite the fact that Arum knows that an ounce more of carelessness with either of these creatures would spell certain death.

She stares at him as he flounders. He snaps his teeth together again reflexively, then grasps for other words.

"Humans of the Northern Wilds have a reputation for- for a lack of hospitality. You and your basilisk have quite decidedly failed to live up to that reputation."

She looks delighted by this claim, her hands flexing against him in a way Arum attempts to ignore. "Hm, well, I can't say that reputation isn't absolutely well earned," she says, almost viciously. "Honestly I'm kind of surprised that you managed to get through to Damien, he can be a little intense at first."

Arum laughs again. "Intense," he echoes. "Yes… well, he was certainly that, though I do not think he was inhospitable." He pauses again, and he remembers the calmness of Damien's eyes, even over his raised bow, and the delicacy of the smile he gave when he lowered it at last, and let Arum take his hands again. "Despite the fact that, perhaps, I deserved a degree of inhospitality."

She laughs brightly, and Arum's mouth curls into an unbidden smile beneath his mask, and then she shakes her head and her hands upon him squeeze very slightly. A little warning, he realizes, before she shifts her footing and their trajectory, and then she begins to back away with him, leading him off of the balcony and back towards the rest of the party inside. "C'mon, stranger," she says warmly. "One more dance, and then you'll be free to escape all this ballroom drama. Saints know I wish I could join you- this is all a bit too formal for me to sink my teeth into."

"It has been… less tedious than I anticipated," Arum admits, rather than considering what this creature would prefer to do with her teeth.

"Yeah," she says, playful again, "it seems like you've managed to enjoy yourself, huh?"

Arum huffs, but he bites down on his retort so he may instead focus on maintaining his steps now that he needs to worry about other surrounding humans again. The ballroom is so much warmer than the balcony air, though his phoenix is hotter still in his arms, and the combination of heat seems to blur his vision at the edges.

"If you thought it was gonna be so awful," she says, "why come? If you were worried about our reputation around here, you must come from pretty far off."

"I-" Arum hesitates, considers his possible lies, but the sharpness of her eyes upon him makes him suspect he will have better odds with the truth. Or- part of it, at the very least. "A rather frustrating obligation," he settles on, after a moment. "A job in the city I must complete before I may return home and care for my-" he cuts himself off, digging for a way to explain that a human would understand. "To care for my family, as I am meant to."

"Attending the masquerade is part of your job?" she asks, her eyebrow raising, and Arum sighs because the absurdity of the situation is very much not lost on him.

"Unfortunately, yes. Or-" he pauses, then breathes a light, dizzy laugh as he and the little human spin in a tight circle. "Perhaps… perhaps the obligation has proven itself to be not entirely unfortunate."

She smiles again, and Arum's stomach jumps with a sensation like both pleasure and panic. He swallows uncomfortably, and when she moves with pointed confidence he acquiesces, spinning her out and then pulling her back against his chest.

They are already near to the other side of the ballroom again, the crowd thinning around them as they approach the exit, but Arum still feels as if he is sinking into the warmth of the air, the warmth of his thick cape and those confident hands-

Her hands- not only are they so shockingly warm upon him, but they will not stay still. He is distracted, trying to keep his mind on his steps while her touch and her sly smirk pull his attention elsewhere, and he does not realize quite quickly enough where she is touching until he feels her fingers, curling around the back of his neck. Her touch runs down his spine, brushing the bony ridge at the base of his neck, and he can’t quite suppress the way that makes him shiver and hiss.

Her lips part, her eyebrow raising again as her head tilts in a thoughtful sort of way, and Arum’s feet stumble to a halt.

They both attempt the first syllables of words at the same time, then, hers a baffled question and his a sharp deflection, but they are both interrupted.

"Rilla!"

The little phoenix turns, just slightly, not pulling away from Arum's grasp upon her. She's smiling again, even, as she watches Sir Damien half-leap down the stairs from near the Queen's dais, bolting through the crowd towards the exit, towards them.

"Hm," she says, her eyes sparking with distinct amusement as Arum attempts (and fails) not to feel panic welling again, without the lance of strange pleasure this time. "I didn't think he'd actually get jealous, not after we-"

"Unhand my Amaryllis- unhand my fiancée, villain!"

Arum would do precisely as Sir Damien commands, if his limbs did not feel as immobile as a copse of dead trees. Damien's clarion-call voice draws the attention of nearly the entire ballroom, citizen and soldier alike. It looks, from Arum's horrified vantage, as if every single human face, however disguised, now turns towards Arum and his current partner, who is evidently named Amaryllis. Even the music has slackened, the instruments pattering off into pathetic whining before they cease entirely.

Arum's thoughts wind down in a similar fashion, to a blank nothing that almost screams.

It seems our time has run out before our dance is finished, he thinks again as Damien swims through the stilled dancers, an echo of a lament. Amaryllis pulls slightly towards Damien as he draws close. She pulls against Arum's stiff arms, and he-

There is a moment. He considers the possibility.

He is well within leaping distance to the doors, to the exit, and there is little chance the knight would aim his bow at his own partner, if Arum simply- grabbed her and did not let go when he leapt.

But Amaryllis glances back towards him when she feels how wooden his grip has gone, glancing up at his face with- sympathy of all things as she squeezes one of his hands, and Arum feels like a monster, in the most human of possible senses. He feels like a beast for even considering it.

He forces his grip on the little phoenix to slacken, and he takes a half step back.

Amaryllis gives him one last look of confusion and concern before she slips entirely out of his grasp, moving to place herself between Arum and the knight, her hands raised, placating.

"It was just a dance, Damien, I didn't think that you'd-"

"You," Damien hisses, not pushing past Amaryllis but certainly not hearing her as he glares at Arum. "You-" he snarls, and his hands twitch against his bow, the muscles of his arms tensing, and Arum-

Arum stares at the knight, stands perfectly still, completely stiff, and he is utterly certain that he is about to die.

"I asked him to dance, Damien, not the other way around. Just-"

"With this beast," Damien snarls, and Arum's heart clenches almost painfully, although the citizenry staring at the three of them do not seem to recognize Damien's words as only honest, rather than hyperbolic.

Arum could still attempt to leap, to escape, but without a hostage he is far less certain that he will not be shot in the spine. If he is going to die, he would rather face it directly. He would rather see the arrow as it comes.

Damien clenches his teeth, his tawny eyes gone ferocious and sharp, and it is only Amaryllis' hands upon his wrists that prevent him from lifting the bow in that precise moment.

"How dare you?" Damien's hands shake under Amaryllis' palms. "After- after I- monster-"

"Honeysuckle-"

Damien blanches at the word, at Arum's voice, so very quiet beneath the din of concerned murmurs at the knight's back. Damien hesitates, only for a moment, the fury in his eyes softened with confusion, and Arum forces himself to continue.

"I-" Arum pauses, inhales sharply, tries again. "I was enjoying… playing the monster too much, I think." He pauses again, inhales more slowly, ignores the tightness in his throat. "F-forgive me."

Arum drops his eyes, then, but no arrow comes and the pause draws long enough to be worrying in and of itself. Arum hazards a glance up at Sir Damien again, and he-

The conflict is so clear upon him as to be nearly palpable. Arum thinks that perhaps he would be able to taste it, if the copper of his mask were not stifling his tongue.

Damien still grips his bow in one hand, but the other he lifts, his fingers brushing almost absently over his own lips before he seems to realize what he is doing, and then he presses his palm over his mouth entirely. Amaryllis frowns hard when Damien glances towards her, and then when the poet shoots another look towards Arum, the monster only stands, and waits, and does not allow himself to hope.

"You-" Damien cuts himself off, clenching his jaw hard, his brow furrowing in obvious distress, and then Arum can see the precise moment the poet decides his course of action. The wild determination that bleeds across his features is precisely as blatant as his former conflict. "You have slighted me this night, my fellow beast," Damien says, and his voice is loud and clear again, though Arum can clearly make out the falsity overlaying it now. Amaryllis can quite obviously sense his performance, too, and the bafflement in her expression makes for a good companion to Arum's own stunned shock. "My Rilla's honor must be defended!"

Arum blinks, and the murmurs behind the knight take on a tittering, conspiratorial quality. "A-ah-"

"I demand you duel me!"

"Damien," Amaryllis attempts to interrupt, her tone entirely incredulous, but Damien grips her wrist and shakes his head sharply.

"For my Rilla's honor!"

Damien's tone is insistent, his expression pointed and firm, his eyes framed between the fangs of his mask and still so… compelling. He is prompting, and Arum must push past his shock if he wants to- to take the hand that Sir Damien is offering.

"If- if that is what must be done to put this conflict to rights… so be it."

"It is," Damien snarls. "Obviously, we must- discuss the terms of this duel privately. Let us take the matter outside," he says, his voice managing to be both pointed and toneless, and then nearly as an afterthought he adds, "you cur," and it is all that Arum can do to bury his urge to snort a laugh.

The fact that he feels near-hysterical with the sheer absurdity of this entire evening certainly does not help with that urge, either.

Arum pauses as if considering, flicks his tongue without meaning to beneath his mask (the scent of copper stuffs his snout), and then he nods. "If you… insist."

"I do," Damien says with clear relish, and then he gestures towards the door. "Outside. Now."

Arum stares at Sir Damien for another wondering moment as his frown deepens, as his eyes widen and his gesturing hand flutters in the air again, and then Arum nods, and turns, and retreats, with his basilisk and his phoenix following in his wake.

#OFF! THE! RAILS!!!#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #even with missteps

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