#hes feeling feisty and flighty someone comfort him

[rcjoice]

open to mutuals

his hands are shaking as he knocks on the door. there's blood on his face and on his clothes and on his knuckles. what had even just happened? his head is still fuzzy. he's thankful when the door finally opens, giving them a shaky smile and leaning against the door frame. "hey. sorry to show up late, do you wanna hang out?" he can't go back to his apartment right now. he doesn't feel good alone. "can i shower here?"

[archival-account-2]

non-stop. | daisuke kambe [drabble]

❛ 𑁍 pairing: daisuke kambe x cher

❛ 𑁍 scenario: in the dead of the night in 221b baker street, london; in their shared apartment for eight months, give or take

❛ 𑁍 warning: none; completely sfw; heavy, heavy fluff

❛ 𑁍 note: if you sensed any hamilton references, you could tell where i have been; this had been in my drafts for literally three days then episode four dropped-

cher is a host unto herself. as long as she can hold a case file, and a pen and paper, she's a damn threat.

to herself.

she works non-stop; writing day and night, studying day and night, going after the villains day and night with every opportunity she saw. however, even if she's not neck deep in her investigatory works, she'll pop by in charities and social events not (just) to boost her popularity, but also to boost her presence among the citizens of england or of britain, in general.

her strenuous work ethics was the one that brought her to her knees and humble herself to follow the doctor's orders: to rest regularly, to eat regularly, to relax more than usual, to work less than usual — basic simple self-care that she seldom does to her own self.

daisuke noticed that already.

and it's getting on his nerves. strangely.

he has been with haru kato for more than two years, and yet, he was only being nerved by a petite englishwoman who took up a lot after her own father.

he knew it ran in the blood — the frigid blood of a holmes kin that knew no boundaries in the profession of consultant detective.

it seemed so foreign to him still -  the duality of cherloque amelie soleil holmes. 

at one profile, she seemed to show the facade of a flirty and flighty adler - charming robin who knew how to spread her wings and fly in the skies filled with attractive parasites and pests of the british society. she just had a way with words that could be wither seductive, persuasive, and alluring. she also seemed to have an upper hand in every conversation where she's included. she leaves no stray comment and always made sure her words are pointed and sharp in any educated topic. a true mark as the daughter of a dominatrix. 

on the other profile... she's just as controlled, restrained, and unexpressive as a holmes. this kind of a cher conveyed the most inhumane face of all, most especially when a case keeps on pulling her to be involved. there's not time for rest, eating, or leisure. most of her time were always spent sitting on the chair, in front of her father's worn desk; flipping the pages of multiple case files; reviewing similar scenarios that and differentiating multiple changes that could have affected the current motion of the recent crime. she seeked no comfort nor encouragement but only immense silence and centered focus on the task at hand. a true symbol as the kin of a renowned criminologist. 

her duality - despite their fellowship for the past eight months - still fazed daisuke. but he never had the heart to voice it out. he's never the type to express himself in a way that could make people think he's an inferior to a certain woman's little world. 

a world that seemed to be non-stop.

it was in the middle of a dead night, but the two individuals in 221b baker street were still awake - the other one was diligently working in the living room/study, the other one was looking from the doorframe of the guest bedroom. neither one could sleep not could approach each other.

the former was untoucable; the latter was hesitating for once in his life. 

suddenly... there was a vibration in his pajama pocket. daisuke quickly shuffled his back and retrieved his phone, seeing it's a call from mourgane, cher's cousin and the current president of england's top most security association for criminologists. 

"good evening," daisuke greeted. "is there something the matter?"

"an associate passed by the apartment an hour ago, and when he passed by it again three minutes earlier, he informed me that the lights seemed not to go out. may i boldly assume that cher is still awake?"

"yes." daisuke couldn't tell a lie. it was the truth, after all. was there something he missed with the habit?

mourgane sighed on the other line. it was a heavy, distressed one as if she was asking if the toddler was being naughty and she was. mourgane said, "please tell her to go to bed right this instant. i could tell this had been going for a few days behind your back." 

daisuke remained quiet. now that the cousin gave him direct orders, it seemed he really needed to step up and bring it upon himself to put cher to bed.

"is it really my responsibility?" but, of course, he's not just gonna do that directly. after all, it's her own life, not his.

"your partner is your responsibility, mr kambe," mourgane retaliated coolly. "cher, no matter was trait she's possessing at the very moment, is at your disposal. whatever reason we may have, you have the ball in your court and cher, per our agreement for the sake of the japanese partnership and personal relationship gain, have no choice but to follow you." she exhaled as if she was proud of her declaration. "are we clear on that?"

"..."

"mr kambe."

"yes."

mourgane chuckled. she added, "you don't need to be afraid of cher. she may be flighty and feisty... easily aggravated... and snappy. but, at some point, she actually needed someone to remind her that she's not inhumane. i am relying on you." there was a distant knocking heard on the other line. "i have a late night visitor and i will leave my cousin in your capable hands."

daisuke nodded slowly. like before he said, "yes."

"a little note of warning," mourgane piped up. "do not give her narcotics. you will pay with your life if you do."

the line went dead. 

and daisuke could stilm hear the prominent flipping of pages. 

he cannot believe he was thrusted in this situation. but his actions seemed to have their own consequences and he needed suffer for them.

he padded out of the guest bedroom and went in the living room vicinity where cher was working diligently as ever. 

"cher," daisuke said in japanese. "go back to bed."

cher seemed to turn the other cheek, pretending not to hear him. her fingers... they were holding the pen as if her life depended on it. she kept on writing, scribbling, scrawling, jotting down whatever thoughts that raced down in her mind - mostly messy scenarios that were squelching inside her overworked brain.

she's writing non-stop. she's reading non-stop. she's working non-stop. 

"cherloque." daisuke tried again. "i said go back-"

"i heard what you said and i don't want to," cher suddenly snapped, blowing him off in the same language (with slight informality).

daisuke began to wonder how the hell jordan was able to put up with this act with almost every night of her life in 221b baker street. 

'but direct orders from miss holmes mourgane cannot be winged,' daisuke thought, reaffirming himself. 

daisuke, decidedly, took 10 paces forward and stood beside cher's chair. he clasped one hand on her shoulder and, once again, addressed her, saying (with his learned english accent), "love."

it was as if by magic cher suddenly stopped writing, her hand frozen suddenly into place, her body stiffening. 

daisuke leaned down to her body's height and whispered, "go back to bed. now."

cher didn't say anything. but she did shook her head slowly in response. 

'it's either i'm responsible for you or your cousin and my department will responsible for my execution,' daisuke thought, slightly irritated. 'i value my life.'

"you're coming to bed right now." 

daisuke looped one arm below her knees, the other supporting her back; carrying her in a bridal style. cher exclaimed, dropping her pen on the desk. cher was suprised she's suddenly lifted like that without any warning. her face suddenly blossomed a full shade of pink as her arms instinctively wounded themselves around daisuke's neck. her hair flounced up, but because she put it in a really, really, really loose ponytail, it suddenly let loose by itself and her hair brown hair cascaded down. 

"w-wait! daisuke!"

"no. direct orders from your cousin."

"she can't tell you what to do!"

"well, she reminded me you are at my disposal." daisuke looked at her directly with firmness in his gaze, as if scrutinizing her. "love."

cher hunched her shoulders as she crossed her arms, slightly pouting. a total childish move that opposed her holmes ethics. 

she suddenly turned kind of cute. 

"daisuke..."

was she actually whining? he couldn't be sure. 

"my room is in the other way."

her complaint was turned away, just like how she turned her other cheek earlier, because he entered in the guest bedroom where he was residing. without sharing another word, he plopped cher down in the middle of the bed and immediately tucked her in. he didn't give her any chance to speak her mind. 

the night continued on and in the wee morning... someone entered the apartment. 

"there." after tucking her in, daisuke followed suit, lying down next to her but not close enough for skin contact. "now sleep."

it was erebos. he turned to the direction of cher's bedroom. it was vacant. 

he took the other way and entered the japanese police's room.

and there he was - spooning the spent englishwoman in his arms. it was as if he was keeping her warm as possible or keeping her in her damn place, knowing how the night went. 

"i'll be out here," erebos whispered and exited, making himself feel at home in the living room. "goddamn it, haru, you're right. but we're dealing with idiots in denial, not with detectives in love."

[dangermousie]

Like Georgians, Jacobites and some of the most awesome romance novels? A Patricia Veryan pusher post

I have just discovered that Patricia Veryan, a writer of romance novels set in Georgian and Regency time, has had the bulk of her books reissued on kindle.

So this is a giant pusher post.

Who is Patricia Veryan, you may ask. She was a British writer of romance novels who was old school enough to belong to the style of Georgette Heyer and Jeffery Farnol (who deserves his own pusher post), instead of the newer but now old “bodice ripper, rapey” school like Woodiwiss, Rogers et al. Her novels have plots, no sex scenes and are swoonily, amazingly romantic. She also did her research and they feel like true period novels, not modern people in period clothes prancing about.

They are full of swashbuckling, angsty heroes with awful families, strong heroines fighting off villains, conspiracies unmasked, swords at dawn, tons of hero torture and gorgeousness. Does it sound good? It should.

As I mentioned above, she wrote both regencies and Georgians, but I am gonna talk about the latter series today, because they are all on kindle. Her two Georgian series are The Golden Chronicles (set in the aftermath of Bonnie Prince Charlie's 1745 uprising) and Tales of the Jeweled Men (ditto). TGC follow the supposed treasure that Bonnie Prince Charlie amassed to help his Rebellion, which disappears, and which now the good guys are trying to get to the donors and bad guys want for themselves. There are six books in the series (though there are two earlier books, Mistress of Willowale and The Wicked Widow, which tie into it too. MoW is not available on kindle but TWW is and is a delightful Georgian romp with a rakish, cynical hero who ends up adoring the spunky, cheerful, pragmatic heroine. I am rereading it RN). * Practice to Deceive - Penelope Montgomery always meant to marry Quentin Chandler but he went off and joined the Jacobite rebellion and her family died and she's stuck with her awful aunt and uncle. Quentin resurfaces when he comes to her for assistance but he gets captured by her psycho family and tortured for info about the treasure. Penelope rescues him and they go on the run. I loooove this book. Penny is not flighty or dim or anything but calm, a little reserved, very ladylike, yet awesome. And I have a crush on charming, funny, h/c magnet Quentin. My fave Veryan character, Roland Mathieson, first appears in this one as the bad guy's henchman who kinda wants Penelope. * Journey to Enchantment - the hero of this one is Penelope's brother Geoffrey and heroine a Scottish gal Prudence McTavish. I remember liking it OK (short version - Geoffrey is Jacobite Scarlet Pimpernel) but was not particularly in love. * The Tyrant - love this one. Phoebe Ramsay ends up being stuck in an engagement to Meredith Carruthers as a cover for some Jacobite-related smuggling. I love both fashionable, fun Phoebe and cool, common-sense, angstmuffin Mededith (we are introduced to the first but not the last of Veryan's horrific parents in this one - I am not sure whether I hate his father or his mother more) and we see more of Roland who actually ends up helping the lead couple, in a very ironic, standoffish way, while sneaking bad guy bits now and then. * Love Alters Not - super super super obsession. Dimity Cranford, in order to lead soldiers away from an injured Jacobite family friend, ends up in all sorts of complicated embroglios which ultimately lead her pretending to be someone else entirely, that someone a woman trying to disposess Sir Anthony Farrar, an English army captain in the late Rebellion, who has been ostracized by everyone for running at the battle of Prestopans, leading to the rout of his unit and *da-dun* making Dimity's brother crippled. So much angst and hurt/comfort and awesomeness, you have NO idea. I think Dimity/Anthony are my favorite Veryan OTP which is saying a huge huge deal. Also, I believe I was gibbering and screaming at my book during Anthony's trial. Roland appears again and this is the book I fell for him in - he's sort of Anthony's friend and is thoroughly delicious. * Cherished Enemy - follows Robert McTavish (Prudence's brother) and Rosamond Albritton, sister of a recurring character. Tbh, it's my least fave in the series, though I don't hate it or anything, so I don't remember it much. * The Dedicated Villain - LOOOOOOVE! Roland gets a book! And what a book! Roland is on the hunt for the Jacobite treasure, comes across a troupe of actors (or are they?), which includes the tiny (short ladies represent!) but fierce and awesome Fiona Bradford - will he actually change his mind about his obsession? The Dedicated Villain is my favorite of her Georgians (well, that, and Love Alters Not are probably tied). I mean, Roland and Fiona! This series actually manages to do a convincing job of moving Roland from villain to antihero to hero with me buying the transition; also it explains why he starts out the way he does without making it a full excuse. TDV is also one of the very few books that maxed out my hurt/comfort love - PV never really went much for h/c of the physical as opposed to emotional sort in general but Roland's torture scenes in TDV are beyond brutal, I was kinda reading through my fingers and bawling (one of my vivid memories is being high school age, sitting under a tree during the very hot summer, reading that stuff and sniffling). But oddly, it didn't feel gratuitous because it was sort of karma for some of the stuff he did, especially to Quentin in Practice to Deceive (though what happened to him was miles worse than what happened to Quentin). And props to Veryan for having the guts to give him permanent damage. Jeweled Men follows a nefarious conspiracy to take over certain strategic properties to stage an invasion and a bunch of sexay aristocrats who stumble on the plot and decide to fight it (think 18th century Pimpernel). * Time's Fool - follows Gideon Rossiter, a discharged officer who's just returned from the Continent, and his attempts to figure out why his family's properties and wealth imploded. Heroine is Naomi Lutonville, Gideon's erstwhile fiancee. I normally wouldn't like Naomi - she's high-maintenance and dramatic, but I adore her to bits. I ship them like crazy, too. * Had We Never Loved - my first Veryan! Clearly, I was impressed. Horatio Glendenning (remember Jacobite family friend in Love Alters Not? That's him) fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie so his future is not so good. His OTP is a feisty gypsy, Amy Consett, who is NOT discovered to be a Duke's daughter in disguise or anything. It's a lovely lovely book and they are a lovely lovely OTP. * Ask Me No Questions - Quentin's staid older brother Gordon gets his own books. There are all sorts of machinations, but this is not a huge favorite. Gordon and Ruth Allington are nice people but give me Penny and Quentin's humor and reckless courage any day. If you like nice and mature leads though, this one is for you. * A Shadow's Bliss - like amnesia? This book is for you. Ruth's amnesiac bro Jonathan tries to solve the mystery of a shipwreck he was involved in blah blah heroine is Jennifer Britewell and I literally remember nothing about her. Or Jonathan, for that matter, other than he has amnesia. The reason to read this book is the recurring characters of August Falcon, Jamie Morris, and Gwendolyn Rossiter. I read Jeweled Men as if was coming out and remember devouring each book for even the slightest hint of progress between cynical, cutting August and smart, unimpressed Gwendolyn - they are one of my fave Veryan OTPs, together with Dimity/Anthony, Roland/Fiona, and Mitchell/Charity from Sanguinet books. * Never Doubt I Love - Dimity's bro finds love. Once again, I was in it for finding out what makes August tick, Jamie's adoration of August's sis Katrina, and Gwen and August's sexy sparkle. It’s a good book on its own merits though and has a hero with a disability, which was unusual at the time. * The Mandarin of Mayfair - EEEE! EEEEE! I still remember pre-ordering this book and rolling in mad glee (hyperbole. Or is it?) August and Gwen get their own book, plus the conspiracy gets finally unmasked, there is kissing and hurt/comfort and gals being the ones to propose. The OTP is beyond amazing - August is so smart and lethal and functional despite his major issues arising out of the fact that as 1/4 Chinese he’s looked down as a mongrel by “polite” society (I love that Veryan's heroes never wallow), Gwendolyn is full of common-sense and rescues him from prisons and bad guys and won't let anyone bash him (himself included, but also their friends, which turn on him for spoilery reasons. I still have residual rage about it. Katrina, you are the worst sister ever and dead to me!) I think the ending is a little pat to resolve the very real issues he has with marrying Gwendolyn and dragging her into his life, but at that point they've been through so much hell, I didn't even care.

My favorite OTPs in her Georgian series are are four-way time between ladylike Penelope x incorrigible adventurer Quentin in PtD, tormented and self-abasing Anthony and fearless Dimity in LAN, reformed villain Roland x not really an actress Fiona in TDV, and deadly and messed up August x fearless and clever Gwen (btw, Gwen is a heroine with a disability, which, once again, was an unusual thing at the time.)   Worst father award goes to Roland's father (die in a fire, please!) and worst mother is either August's or Meredith's. Coolest family is either Dimity's or Horatio's. Favorite brother-sister pair are Gwen and Gideon Rossiters.

Basically, you should go read them yesterday!

PS Disclaimer. I used to run a Veryan listserve in the really old days. So I am biased. But she is a rare author I am rereading 20 years later and still love.

PPS If you are a Veryan fan, come talk to me!

[openbook-izel]

Home is Where The Hair Is || Izel and Cahill

Izel and Cahill stumble upon someone in distress, someone very eager to make friends and even more eager to show her gratitude... in any way possible.

Izel needed to get out and breath. The last two weeks had been shock after shock, and the only way to get the ice out of her system was to burn it out. As Reece took over the shift, Izel grabbed her running gear and hit the road, heading up past Took's, through the Common, and down one of her favourite forest tracks. It wasn't until she fell into her pace that he head started to clear, and she could forget the noticed absence in her home, her lack of reflection, the ghost of the woman she'd murdered, and the litany of everything else, focusing just on the pounding of her shoes on the leaves and the route in front of her. At least, until a swirling pink aura caught her eyes, not too far off the path. Pixie. Izel slowed curiously, knowing the risks of even acknowledging a pixie. But there was nothing natural about how the aura hung in the air like a lantern. Pixies were feisty, flighty things, they didn't usually just hang in mid air like that. Carefully, Izel wandered off the path and stepped closer. By the time she was ten feet away, she could see the cage the pixie was trapped in, and her blood ran cold. Swallowing, she looked around for tell tale red before stepping closer. "Hey, I'm here to help." She could immediately see the latch, and she didn't have a knife with her to cut the rope it was hanging from. Maybe there was a latch underneath? She picked it up. "YOW!" She winced, flinching back as the box shocked her. There was no way no one had heard that. Cursing, Izel looked around. They were still in the clear, but not for long. Blowing on her fingers, she looked around the cage. For there to be electricity, there had to be... electricity. Duh. Maybe there was a battery?

Cahill spent a lot of time outside. It could be argued that he spent all of his time outside; or as close to. The garage at the shop was almost always open and, while windows were limited, he rarely kept those closed even after he'd gone home. Sometimes, the desire to be out and enjoying the world was enough to tear him away from whatever repair or build he was working on and force him out towards the woods. It seemed clichéd, and even he acknowledged the fact, that a werewolf would want to prowl around in the woods by himself. Sometimes, he supposed, stereotypes were there for a reason. That reason being because they were the truth. Today was the perfect day for it; cool enough to be comfortable without making you want to go back inside. The fact that he ran warm probably helped things. His stomach had started to rumble and he was considering his next meal when he heard the yell. Attention immediately piqued in that direction. He turned to follow the source of the noise, fully aware of the fact that he wasn't the only monster that spent time in this part forest. When he got close enough to see what it was that caused it, he was rather surprised. "... You okay?" Maybe he should've announced himself first before walking up behind the woman and caged pixie, but he didn't always think things like that through.

Izel 's hands hovered over the cage, trying to trace anywhere that an electric wire might run through. She bent over to examine the bottom. No latch, nor battery there. Which meant that unless it was- "Holy flapjack!" she yelled, jumping a foot in the air and spinning so fast she almost fell over at the sight of the giant looming over her. "Every. single. time! It's like you ​want​ me to have a heart attack." Her hands instantly slid from defensive fists to rest flat on her chest as she gasped for air. The tight turquoise and green aura was instantly familiar, but Cahill was one of those few people who looked plenty big enough without an aura. Izel sighed and smiled tightly, glancing around. "The cage has been -​hggggh​- electrified." Her head rocked into her shoulder as she looked around. "I'm trying to get her out, but I don't really want to meet whoever set the trap." Warlock or warden. Yeesh.

Cahill smiled instantly at Izel's reaction. It wasn't that his goal was the frighten her, but it was easy. In a lot of ways, it was a level of childlike endearment to her that kept him from outright letting her know he was there and instead letting her get a little scared. "Never!" Though he feigned mock offense, there was very little concern in his voice. At least, not as far as her heart went. The small creature stuck in the cage on the other hand; that had his attention a little more seriously. "Are you hurt?" He asked Izel first, concern knitting his brow together. Chances were good she knew it was electrified because she'd touched it. "How bad is it?"

​Izel​ squinted at him in mock suspicion, but couldn't keep it up for long. "Nothing that will cause permanent damage from just a touch, but it's too much to hold on to." She stepped aside to let him see. "You okay?" she asked the pixie inside, who was carefully holding herself floating away from any side. The pixie nodded. "What's your name?" "Sycamore," the pixie replied quietly, clearly subdued by the predicament she was in. Izel nodded, and glanced around again, rubbing her arm anxiously. Every moment they spent figuring this out meant a minute more that whoever came back. Which wasn't great for any of them. Especially now Cahill was here. She didn't doubt his capabilities, but getting him in trouble with anyone like that wouldn't just endanger him. She was just a pesky interfering human, he wasn't. And people who hunted fae often had friends who hunters wolves. "I think there's a wire in the rope too, so I'm thinking let's not touch that. If there was a way to cut the power, find the latch without hurting ourselves..." She ran her fingers through her hair, stopping her rambling in their tracks. The more she was around him, the more she was aware of the earthy scent in the air and the salt in her mouth. This was new, but not unpleasant. Soothing, much like the rest of him.

Cahill watched for a moment before letting his gaze fall more fully to the trap where the small pixie was being held. Izel was talking about what was dangerous about the trap and the fact that she could touch it but not hold on. He shifted where he stood, moving his weight from one foot to the other while the two conversed. It wasn't until she was starting to list of things that could solve this problem. Most of these things required a lot of time and, from his experience with traps set in the forest, time was the last thing they had in abundance. Instead, he was just stepping forward and considering the option of just fixing this problem for all of a few seconds. Protection was key, which meant making safe choices, but staying away from wardens was part of that too. His day was supposed to be relaxing and this was quite the opposite. Moving past her, he was grabbing at the cage that held the fae and snarling at the sudden shock it delivered to him. Unrelenting in it's desire to make him stop. But it was designed for pixies and faes and the tiny things that got themselves trapped there. Whoever planted this wasn't looking to catch a werewolf, even if that was exactly what they'd done. It was easier than he thought, despite the continued shock, to rip it open. When he looked back to Izel, he flexed his hands and grtted his teeth slightly. "See...? Easy."

​Izel pursed her lips as she kept a careful watch on their surroundings. She was notoriously easy to sneak up on when she concentrated on one thing, as Cahill had just shown so perfectly, but when she was on the look out, the way auras stood out in secluded areas gave her a visual advantage over most people. Not that her watch lasted for long, when she cottoned on to what Cahill was doing. "Dude!" she hissed in shock, waiting for him to flinch away. But he didn't. The muscles in his neck bulged as he bended and twisted the metal bars. In moments, there was a gap big enough for Sycamore to slip through. As soon as he let go, Sycamore made an attempt to fly, only to tumble in mid air into Izel's outstretched hands. "Thank you, thank you!" Sycamore sang at Cahill, whatever injuries she had clearly not dulling her mood. Izel smiled down at the little creature, then raised an eyebrow at Cahill, an unsurprised smile barely failing to hide the concern in her features.. "That did not look easy. Let me see your ha-" a flash of red in the distance caught her eyes. "Actually, we should probably move now, but you could have hurt yourself." Izel winced as Sycamore grabbed her hair to climb up to her shoulder. Her eyes flicked over to the red reflecting off trees. They hadn't been noticed yet, but she started walking casually away, leading Cahill.

Cahill had always thought of pain as an interesting thing. Something so diverse that it couldn't really be quantified. What hurt to one person wouldn't even cause a second thought in another. What one considered bearable would be unimaginable to the one beside them. As he pulled the cage bars apart, he felt the shock of electricity as it coursed through him and he acknowledged the pain. But he swallowed it. Ignored how it felt and pushed the reality of it too the back of his mind. It was easy enough to do when there was a clear need. Getting Sycamore free was more important than the minute of pain he would feel, or the twitches and soreness in his hands that followed. He gave the pixie a smile and a nod. "Anytime, hoaloha." Waving off Izel's concern, he looked around. Someone else was close, but with the way that sounds echoed through trees, it was harder to tell where they were; especially when he was in human form. "Yeah." He motioned ahead, towards the direction that would lead them back towards town, senses still attuned to that around them. "Maybe move quickly."

Izel nodded, picking up the pace to a low trot, eyes carefully watching the red. "They're coming from there," she gestured quietly as they reached the track she'd only left a few minutes ago. They hadn't been noticed yet, and she was already running an impressive list of lies through her head, each less convincing than the last. Keep it simple. But as they got closer and closer to the Common, the less they seemed to need them. The bright sunlight meant everyone and their mother had picnic blankets out or were just trying to catch some rare vitamin D. Releasing a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, Izel looked up at Cahill again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Cahill shifted to glance towards where Izel motioned and narrowed his eyes. While she was running through a list of lies, he was running a damage report. If something happened, collateral needed to be minimal. Undue fighting was never something he encouraged, especially when he had two others to protect. Had it just been himself, there would've been very little concern. He could handle himself. It took him a moment too long to reply to Izel's question, eyes shifting back to her until he focused on her again. "What?" Maybe he should've relaxed a bit, knowing they were closer to town, but Ashkent had a way of making relaxation difficult when you held a high level of concern for others.

Izel raised her eyebrows skeptically, crossing her arms. She winced as Sycamore yanked on her hair, and started building what felt like... a nest? As they passed the first several people, she felt herself relax a little, and her hand flicked up to her shoulder where Sycamore was hiding in her hair. "I'm going to take that as an unconvincing maybe to the being okay. -​raspberries​- Did you burn you hands? I know it's different, but... Ow, Sycamore!" She glanced behind her, catching the sight of a bright red aura emerging from the forest. Her step picked up again, although by that point they were probably safe. Probably. "Thank you," she said instead. "For helping."

Cahill watched as the pixie practically burrowed into the young woman's hair, his focus pulled away from the immediate danger and more fixated on the two. He smiled a bit, still flexing his hand and working the fingers. Nothing that wouldn't heal. Thankfully, be had a good heart, or the sustained shock might've dropped him. "it'll be fine," he finally replied with a smile that came far too easily. Concern may have been something he adopted early on in life, but a casual demeanor was inborn. "Absolutely. I'm glad I ran into you."

​Izel​ sighed and her shoulders dropped as she smiled back. "You're such a... you. You know that?" She chuckled in disbelief, running a finger through her hair. Or at least part of it, before she reached a tangle and Sycamore slapped her fingers away. So much for gratitude, or so it seemed. "Do you want to swing by for a drink or, ow, do you have cars you need to go mechanic?" Her eyes skimmed the Common again, but their red aura stalker had wandered off completely in the wrong direction, which was a nice sign. "Cars?" Sycamore asked shrilly. "I love cars, they're so shiny and there are always sweets inside them!" She climbed out of Izel's hair and smiled brightly up at Cahill. "I can help!" Izel raised one skeptical eyebrow and looked at Cahill. But before either of them could answer, Sycamore jumped once again, and failed to fly once again, grabbing Izel's hairlike a safety rope before clambering back onto her shoulder, Izel wincing all the way up. "I think," Izel started slowly, the way you spoke to a petulent child, "that maybe you need to rest and heal first, yeah?" Sycamore stared up at her with a frown, then broke out into a mischievous grin. "Okay! But I owe you a life debt! I want to help both of you whatever way I can!!"

​Cahill​ didn't have a lot of experience with fae of any kind. He knew they existed, knew they had certain tendencies, but beyond that? He wasn't overly knowledgeable. Watching how Sycamore worked her way through Izel's hair was almost distracting enough to completely take his mind off the feeling of sharp pain through his hands. He wasn't about to admit that, though; not when he knew she'd get protective about it. "You like cars, huh?" The smile widened a bit and his gaze flicked towards Izel. "I don't know if any of the ones I've got have sweets in them though." As she attempted to fly, he was almost stepping forward to help, but Izel had been fast enough on her own. Life debts weren't exactly his thing, sounded a little intense for something as simple as opening a cage. "It's alright... No need to commit to something crazy."

As it turned out, it was really hard to signal things secretly when someone was sitting on her shoulder. Izel tried to gesture, urgently but subtly, that letting pixies near cars was probably a bad idea, enthusiastic or not. Cars were expensive, and pixies were not careful at best and had once trapped her in a tree. Some were killers, but because she couldn't really get a read on their auras, she couldn't readily vet them either. But there was no way to signal that without Sycamore noticing, so she just opened her eyes really wide and pointedly, and hoped Cahill would catch her drift. "Oh, I have sweets!" she jumped in, pulling a slightly broken chocolate bar out of her hip bag. Always useful for bugbears and either sweet toothed beings. Sycamore lunged for it. "I'm not crazy! A debt is a debt is a debt is a debt is a debt is a debt is a debt is a debt! I want to help you in any way I can! Except for some ways. But apart from those ways, any way I can! Even though humans and," she squinted up at Cahill, "other kinds of giants are weird, a debt is a debt is a-" "Okay, we get it!" Izel hurried to interupt, a patiently strained smile fixed on her face. "But, maybe first you need to heal? And then we'll discuss... other things later?" She said this as much to Cahill as she did to Sycamore, hoping he'd agree with her. Sycamore would get bored soon, right? Right?

Sure, ​Cahill​ didn't know a lot about fae. He knew even less about Pixie. And maybe it was that fact alone or the tendency for him to miss those blatant signs that were right in front of his face, but he didn't stop himself from talking about the cars right away. Not until Izel was pulling out candy and distracting Sycamore and giving him a look that was impossible to misinterpret. Maybe. He still wasn't exactly sure what it meant, actually, and instead was just frowning slightly and letting his brow furrow into a show of confusion. "Wha--" He was about to ask for clarification when Sycamore was going off like a broken record and calling him a giant. He laughed, looking back to Izel with his wide smile. "That sounds good. You want to take her somewhere? Or she can come with me. Whichever works."

Darn, was Cahill's smile contagious, ​Izel​ couldn't help but match it with her own, equally broad one. Even with the strain of a tiny person building a house out of hair. That probably ranked below straw in the story of the little piggies. You didn't hear about them making homes by the hairs of their chinny chin chin. She afforded herself a chuckle at that, before weighing the options. Realistically, Cahill's equipment was a lot more expensive than hers, and she had a slightly higher chance of getting their little friend back to other fae. Probably Regan. "If you're coming over for a drink, maybe my place first. There's lot's of candy~" she promised, and could feel the little pixie bouncin in excitement before stopping abruptly. She was definitely seriously hurt.

Cahill nodded, glancing first at the pixie that continued to set about her work undeterred, and then to Izel. He was no stranger to having long hair, his own reaching past his shoulders when it wasn't pulled back. Just watching the fae make a nest of the strands was enough for him to give a sympathetic smile. That would be an unfortunate mess to untangle later. "Wait, am I invited or is this a girl's only thing? Should I excuse myself so you to can talk?" He flexed his hands as he said it, not necessarily wanting to show the slight cringe that came from the movement but unable to stop himself from messing with it.

Izel rolled her eyes. "You are definitely invited, how else are we going to toast the hero of the hour?" she asked teasingly as they cleared the common and made it back onto the road. "Again, if you have time," her eyes flicked to his hands, as unable to hide her concern as he was at hiding his wince. She raised her hand to shield Sycamore as a tic jerked her shoulder into her head. Sycamore wined that she'd ruined the nest, but seemed more than happy to get back into building and retwisting. "-​raspberries​- Besides, how else am I going to sneak some soothing cream into your back pocket without you noticing?"

Cahill smiled slightly, shaking his head a bit. 'Hero' was a strong term, and he didn't necessarily like it being attached to him. He just did what was necessary when a situation demanded it. He had a conscience, and that was it. Walking away and leaving Sycamore to handle things on her own would've been wrong and it would've stuck with him a lot more than a few burns on his hands would. "For you two? I've got all afternoon." His eyes flicked up again towards Sycamore, watching the slight wince from Izel. Had she not been so accommodating to the pixie, Cahill likely would've told her--lightly--to stop pulling quite so much on the woman's hair. Given that it wasn't his head, he figured that was best left to her. "Putting it in my back pocket sounds messy. Maybe just hand it to me or I'll forget it's there and sit on it or something."

Izel give him another sunshine-bright grin, ignoring the itch in her scalp as individual strands of hair disattached under Sycamore's weight. Past Took's, it wasn't far to her place now, and the weather and (some) of the company made made it easy, no matter the stress they had felt a few moments ago. Her eyes flicked to his hands again, then up with a surprised look. "As long as you'll actually take it," she could see her storefront from here now, the latest books neatly displayed in a colourful array. "Here we are!" she announced for Sycamore's sake.

With a nod and a look back towards where they were going, Cahill slid his hands into his pockets. The action hurt, the rough fabric of his jeans scraping against the now raw feeling of his palm. "You won't get a fight from me," he assured her, though given his general attitude towards appearing fine all the time he could understand why she would expect it. He pulled open the door for them when they arrived, giving her a slight smile and holding it so that Izel--with Sycamore aboard--could enter. Something to drink sounded good before he had to take his leave. He stepped into the familiar shop and let the door close behind them.

Izel cocked an eyebrow, even with a smile. Ashkent -- or Ashford -- seemed to have even more everything's-fine types than trying-to-kill-you types, which was probably part of what made it so bearable. With a thanks, she stepped through the door and lead them to the kitchen. Sycamore was more than easily distracted with candy bars and a hot chocolate served in a shot glass, and Cahill was ever the good company. It was easy to sink into the warmth of his presence and lose track of time until the sun was kissing the top of the tree line. With a knowing smile she pressed the soothing cream into his hands and waved him off. It wasn't until later when she'd gathered up a couple fae books to see if she could find something to help Sycamore that she realised that her hair was feeling light and her home was quiet. Ah. Well, that meant trouble.