The tribe has not been doing well of late, and Kankre is certainly not improving the situation. The townies that visit are mostly drawn to the shows of Nineve and her daughters. Borg does manage to bring in the Rhians though to test their strength against him, and Dawndra manages to sell some herbal remedies to the housewives, but very few come to gamble - and none of the children or adolescents are allowed to visit the gypsies, which means the storytellers and performers miss out on their biggest audiences. This includes the Reisenders, since aerobatics (emphasis on the 'bat' part) don't seem to pull in many adults.
The silver lining is that Alptraum is able to take a peek into Nineve's tent to watch the belly-dancing Khatta girls. For a twelve-year-old, that's a big deal.. especially when the dancing girls aren't much different in age, save for their mother. Also, Hexen isn't around to do anything to draw attention, since the black fox is somehow terrible at being quiet when he's excited. He claimed to have a brilliant idea that morning, and promised to have a big profit to show Alptraum by the evening. The deadline was coming up soon, but the Eeee hadn't heard from his friend yet.
"Feh, I need a mirror," Alptraum mutters to himself as he's trying to look into the tent without looking like he's looking into the tent. A poke in the eye is nobody's friend, after-all. "But at least fluff-bottom isn' around t' whack stuff wit' dat stupid tail o' 'is. Claims he kanna control what it do when he gets excited ... riiiigh."
Alptraum says, "True enough, given a drunk 40 year old woman once did with mine."
So far nobody has noticed, since the gorgio are all focused on the stage. Granted, most are watching Nineve over her daughters. But it's also the last dance of the night, so the girls look impatient to finish so they can have dinner. Alptraum can smell the stew and other dishes cooking - not that he ever gets to have any, not without becoming violently ill within a few minutes.
Alptraum doesn't see what others see in Nineve. She's always been a bit, well, creepy. Even with the reactions he gets from most food, his stomach still rumbles a bit too, reminding him of how, well sparse everything has been as of late. "Another season o' dis an we done," he mutters and thumps his own gut to shut up. Then he's peering again and praying, "C'mon wardrobe failure..."
The bangles and belts and pantaloons and halters and even the head-scarves manage to stay in place.. just like they always do, at least whenever Alptraum gets to watch (although according to Hexen things slip all the time when he watches, although that may just be in his dreams). Supposedly Nineve sometimes does very private shows after dark, if someone wants to be really generous - but this lot isn't likely to be. Nineve is already winding up (or down), since she's got the scarves in her hands now for the high-speed finale that her girls can't do yet. Soon the townies will be heading out of the tent, at least those that can walk without embarrassment. Hexen once suggested selling hats outside, but it never took off.
Disappointed, Alptraum lets the tent flap drop and he slips away from the tent, lest he be discovered! He cannot afford to pay and go to the show, after all. "Bah, no audience t' fund us and nothing around us t' be entertaining. Dis town sucks worse dan the suckiest bog of sucktown," he mutters grimly. "An knowing fluff-bottom, 'e probably ended up selling himself instead of whatever scheme 'e had to make a fortune. Tho, who woul' ever pay ten pickles an a bag o' coins for him woul' have t' be blind, an without a sense of smell."
Whatever Hexen has been up to, he doesn't seem to have been doing it at the camp. Big Borg is already braying his name out, with the usual threats of what will happen if his son misses supper. Nobody expects Alptraum - with his food allergies - to show up. He always eats with his parents at the wagon. They aren't about to leave him to eat alone, after all, plus they usually cook up whatever their son has drained. There haven't been any rabbits in this area, which probably means tree-lizard again tonight.
Alptraum's ear flicks at the cry of the foxes name. "Mmm, 'kay, maybe I should start t' get worried. He doesn' miss dinner often," he comments. So, time to swing back by the wagon to let his folks know he'll be late; he has to rescue the fox again. Well, suspects he has to, anyway.
Dimitris isn't thrilled with the excuse. "Dat boy get you in trouble too more oft'n den not," the man points out. Then he sighs. "But it's getting dark. If'n dat fool boy is lost, he'll stay lost wi'out someone can tell direction. Go get 'im, like ya always do, son."
"Eh, I haf a bad feeling he decided t' go into the Necropolis, knowing dat fluff-for-brain," Alptraum grouses to his father. "Prolly t'inking he find some hidden treasure. I be careful. An if anyt'ing happens, I signal loudly. Should carry t de camp."
"You watch out for townies, stay high out o' sight," Dimitris warns. "Dese sort no the type to look up, but I not trust towns wi' no Eeee or Korv. This is one of the sour places."
"It make me 'itch' too. No feel right," Alptraum agrees as he ties his ragged hair back to keep it out of the way. "I be careful, promise!" He grins toothily, "I be off!" And that he is, he hops backwards, spins, runs, and goes airborne!
It's always easier to spiral upward, using the heat from the camp's fires to gain altitude. It also gives time for Alptraum to switch from 'close up' listening - where he mostly blocks out sounds so he can focus on things like talking - to 'deep' listening used for.. well, hunting. This way he can track the townies as they take the road back to town. On one arc, however, he hears the sounds of movement toward the town from a different direction.
"Eh? Dat's a bit odd," Alptraum thinks. He cants his wings lazily and curves that arc more so he can do a flyover over that sound.
Closer, it's possible to make out voices. "Don't drop the ladder again, idjit," a definitely Rath'ani voice says - and one that couldn't be much older than Alptraum himself. "Ge' mud onnit and Brownie will know we took it." A feline voice replies, "Why I gotta carry? I 'ad to kosh the fox." "That's why you gotta carry," a third voice notes. "You caused all dis, Howie." "He was cheating. All gyp's cheat. There weren't no ball under the cups, I swear!"
Altraum's eyes narrow at that. "Ya don' mess wit family," he thinks, and when you're talking about the tribe versus everyone else, the entire tribe is a single family. He lets out a shrill, and directed, call out towards that pair! "Ya got ten seconds t' tell me where 'the fox' is, or I gonna make you lives uglier. I kin get back to your town before you, and it be Brownie t' talk to, eh?" he calls out soon thereafter.
There's a panicked scuffle, and the sound of running in several directions, except for a mewl of complaint from Howie - "I can't carry the ladder by myself! Where'd you all go? Don't leave me for the monsters!"
"Five seconds!" Alptraum calls out next, "An no' only will I tell dis Brownie, I see about havin' alla ya cursed." Gypsies and curses and all that.
"Hey.. Hey! Help! You guys are jerks," Howie keeps calling. Finally, Alptraum can tell that the cat is talking to the sky when he says, "I didn't really hurt 'im! We just panicked a bit is all! He's fine, just.. just wanted to scare him for cheating!"
Alptraum dives for Howie. Toes spread! If Howie is about his size, Alptraum can lift him ... and lets see if Howie is scared of heights.
The Khatta is spinning around, trying to look in every direction - and still trying to hold onto a rough-hewn ladder that's well over ten feet long. "Guys? Hello?" Howie is still calling.
Alptraum screams over the Khatta's head, does an amazing flip and snaps his wings in. "An den dere was one. Nice friends ya got, to leave you out here wit de monsters?" he says with narrowed eyes. "Since you took one of us, we take one of you. An guess who dat is gonna be?"
Howie immediately covers his head and curls up.. in the mud. "No no no no no please don't take me there! Don't drop me inside the wall!"
"An' why no? Y' think yer somehow worth more den one of us?" Alptraum asks a bit darkly, but then the tribe has to stick together, and abuse by townsfolk is far too common. "Y touch family, y' face family."
Crying now, Howie claims, "But he was cheatin'! He hid da ball! I dint think he'd go down so hard from jus' a tap. We jus' dropped him o'er the wall. He kept bleedin' and stuff, so.. so that means he's a'right!"
Alptraum actually grabs Howie's 'hair' and pulls back so that the khatta has to look him in the eyes. It might be unsettling to be looking into eyes that have almost mirror-iris, after all. "Bleeding," he hisses at the khatta. "Dagh, are you simple? 'e could be dying. Vhere is 'e?"
The terrified feline freezes up at first, then shakily points back along the muddy path. "The stone g-garden," Howie sputters. "We was scared.. didn't want no trouble.." he cries.
"Shoulda t'ought about dat first, den," Alptraum says as he releases the khatta's hair. "Y' name's Howie. If he de dead, den dat vill be on you an all yer friends ... and be it tomorrow, or a decade, dat debt will be paid."
"Can I go?" Howie begs, his voice altered by the various fluids covering his mouth now.
"Y' go, ladder stays," Alptraum says with finality.
Howie got up too fast for his feet, causing him to face-plant in the mud. From there he tried to run on all fours, with more slipping, until he finally managed to get to his feet. Chances were high that he'd run into a tree in the dark at this rate.
"Serve 'im right t' hit a tree," Alptraum growls as he grabs one end of the ladder and drags it off in the direction the khatta indicated.
The muddy path still shows the churning of footprints, at least to someone who can see in the dark as well as Alptraum. What is less reassuring is the structure they lead to, which grows to dominate the horizon. It's a very tall wall. If not for a spot where some of the masonry crumbled at the top and piled up below, the ladder wouldn't even reach.
Alptraum has been muttering vulgarities the entire way too, both for having to rescue Hexen again, and for how people have treated them in general. He'll have to set the ladder up, it seems, then fly up, and haul the ladder up and over the wall so that Hexen can climb out ... if he can even wake up. If not, well, he'll have to try to carry him out instead. Neither will be particularly pleasant to manage.
The wall blocks sound from the other side, so if Hexen is awake Alptraum can't hear it unless the fox calls out. The mud on the ladder doesn't help with getting it up against the wall, either, but luckily the Eeee doesn't have to climb it.
Grumbling still the entire time the lanky Eeee struggles with the ladder and eventually gets it to 'thunk' into place. He then takes a minute to recover before he steps back so he can go airborne to the top of the wall.
From the top of the wall, the old cemetery spreads out before him. It's walled all the way around - even the old gates have been walled in. It still rises up higher in the center than the walls however, so from the main mausoleum it would be possible to look out over the surrounding area. The lower part was for the common graves, but the tombstones and plaques are all knocked over, and the graves slowly-filling pits of earth. There's no sign below of Hexen, other than a dent in the (thankfully) soft earth and the smell of blood.
"Of course 'e wouldn't stay put unless ya glue his butt down," Alptraum mutters. BEfore he can go after him, though, he has to try and haul the ladder up and lower it down the other side.
Hauling it up is a lot more difficult than dragging and placing it. The mud adds more weight, and Alptraum has to use his legs to get it started, which is undignified when one isn't actually flying. Wrangling it over the wall without getting stuck under it is another exercise in cursing that would certainly get him in trouble if his parents heard any of it. And in the end the ladder lands in the soft mud and immediately falls over again.. but at least it's one the proper side of the wall!
"If 'e ain't dead, I gonna kill 'im," Alptraum mutters to himself. At least him reaching the ground is a simple matter of gliding, at least! "'Ey, ya mangy brush-tailed ijdjit, where are ya?!" he calls out before he descends.
There's no reply, and even odder it seems that the whole place is too quiet, as if something were deadening the sound. Even the echoes of his voice sound wrong.
Alptraum's ears flick back. "Dat no right," he says as he draws out his small dagger, just in case. It's rough-made, probably used to be an old chitin sword that broke and was re-ground down and the crossbars shortened, but it works well enough for him. His wings spread, then he descends into the walled 'garden'. "Garden of death," he mutters.
Vision is also affected somewhat, in a very annoying way - it keeps hinting at motion just at the edges, only to show nothing when looking to either side. But in all that turning, Alptraum notices that not all of the tombstones are knocked over the same way. Some have been turned sidewise - enough of them to form a series of steps going up the side of the hill.
"Dat ... isn't normal. Had to happen later, but ... dere no supposed t' be anything in here," Alptraum mutters as his fingers tighten around the battered hilt of his dagger. Still, he has to find the fox, so up those, er, stairs he will go.
Walking on names and dates quickly brings Alptraum past the open graves area, and up into the fancier tomb ring. The small buildings vary in quality and age, and seem a bit close - and of course all of their doors have been broken out from the inside. But at least the overgrown path is made of gravel now, instead of tombstones, even if it does weave around a bit.
This time, though, there's definitely motion out of the side of his right eye.
Alptraum keeps trying to listen, though, and when that motion returns, he looks right! "Okay, dis is ... no good," the bat mutters through clenched teeth. He knows all the stories of the war; and of what these places used to be like. He can probably hear his own heartbeat by this point.
A face is briefly visible inside one of the tombs before it hides again behind a ruined door. Too briefly to identify though.
"Ey, pickle-pants, dat you?" Alptraum calls out to the tomb.
There's a muted reply, but it doesn't sound quite like Hexen. But there's still that slight scent of blood that the bat is exceptionally sensitive to, so the fox must have come this way.
Alptraum goes to try and take a quick look in the tomb. It would be just like that jerk to try and play a prank.
The tomb is pitch black inside, which does nothing to obscure the obvious child huddled in the far corner, covering its eyes as if that would hide them.
Alptraum blinks. "Wha are you doin' in here? Dis place is dangerous fer kids," he says. "'ow ya get in here, anyway?"
"You can see me?" the Rath'ani child asks. It's wearing a white.. dress? Or a nightshirt, possibly. There's no way to tell gender, not even from the voice, since children tend to all sound high pitched. It still has its eyes covered.
"Avralie? You in a white dress. Nightshirt? Something like dat," Alptraum says, "Yer a ringtail, too."
That last bit causes the tail to be pulled in closer. "Are you a reaper?" the child asks. "Where is your gourd?"
"I haf no idea vhat yer talkin' about. I just tryin' t' find my ijit friend, a black fox. He be hurt an in 'ere somewhere," Alptraum remarks, "Y'see him? An y' really should no be in here."
"He was a fox?" the child asks, still making with the peek-a-boo hands. "Siren led him past here."
"Siren? Who be Siren? Why are ya hiding?" Alptraum asks.
"She's in the big house," the child says, then spreads its fingers for a moment to reveal the empty eye-sockets of its exposed skull, before covering them up again.
Alptraum's eyes go wide when it dawns on him he's talking to a ghost! He takes a step back, too. "Er, dis Siren won' hurt im' right?" he asks worriedly.
"She likes guests," the ghost claims.
"Er, avralie. Well, sorry fer botherin ya," Alptraum says as he backpedals a bit! He'd best hurry to the 'big house'! When the dead want company, it's rarely good! "Iffin yer dead, Imma peeing on your grave, Hexen," he growls as he sprints onward, trying to follow the blood scent as he looks for the biggest tomb!
More tomb-residents peek out at the hurrying bat, but don't try to strike up conversations. Some are very well dressed, even, on the upper rings. But at the summit is the big mausoleum, which is now lit up, although the light doesn't seem to cast any shadows. More phantoms mill about, leaning against columns or out of windows (who puts windows on a mausoleum?) but mostly around the entrance. They seem a bit more insubstantial, rarely being visible below the waist.
"Aw, dagh," Alptraum whimpers as his wings start quivering. "Hexen!" Alptraum calls out with a rather large amount of squeak in his voice, "You in dere?!"
It feels like sound just fades out after a few feet, because the air is thick. It feels a bit like being underwater, that one time when Alptraum nearly drowned because Hexen dared him to fish with his feet. But it does seem brighter inside the building, and there's no sign of a living fox outside.
"Act like you belong and mebbe dey won bother you," Alptraum thinks as he walks stiffly towards the main door. He's gripping his dagger so tight that the skin beneath it should by all rights pale out!
The crowd at the entrance is.. dancing? It's hard to tell when they don't have feet. Or else they're just holding hands and twirling around. Every time one brushes against his wings, Alptraum feel them numb slightly. And they always seem to get his wings. "Not another one," one snobby sounding Khatta woman says, swishing away from the bat at least.
"Ugh," Alptraum mutters and winces at that contact. He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly before he tries to open the door.
The door swings easily.. too easily. Alptraum is sure he's touching it, but it could just as easily be another ghost. A ghost-door, or the memory of a door. The light is brighter inside, and there's music this time, so the dancing spectres make more sense at least.
Alptraum's ears twitch. "Why couldn't you just stay down there?" the bat complains as he stiffly walks into the building. Maybe he will kill Hexen himself for this!
Weaving between the dancers brings Alptraum to the center, where there's an altar and viewing area, where strange marble-carved creatures look down from atop the columns. Hexen is lying on it, but he's also sitting up.. or rather, sitting in the lap of a very solid-if-pale-looking human woman in a black evening dress. She certainly looks more solid than the happy looking fox in her lap.
"You dagh-faced jerk! Git yer butt offa dat and lets git out of here!" Alptraum squawks at Hexen!
"Traum?" Hexen asks in a daze, trying to turn his transparent head, but then letting it fall back against the bosom of the woman. "It so nice and warm here. Isn't the music nice?"
"Yes, yes, very lovely. But it be dinnertime and yer dad is mad!" Alptraum says stiffly as he heads more towards Hexen to see if he can grab a hold of him! That he's transparent right now is ... worrisome. Has he died? Really died?
It may seem like a surprise, but Alptraum can grab Hexen. The lap-sitting version, that is. The lying on the stone slap version is almost certainly grabable. "I don't think he wants to go with you," the woman says, and her voice is music. "He likes it here. With me."
"Yeah, well, I don. He goes a family an dey won' like it either," Alptraum tells the woman. "Who de heck are you an why ya messin' wit my friend?"
The woman gives Alptraum an odd glance, and he finally notices that her eyes are red. "I'm Siren, and this is my palace. How is it you are resisting me?" she sing-says.
"Resisting you? Are you supposed to be impossible to resist or somethin'? Hate ta tell ya, but I don' feel nothin' from you," Alptraum retorts, trying to sound brave. "I jus' here to pick up my frien' and go. I don need any more trouble t'night."
Siren begins to reach out towards Alptraum's cheek, but hesitates. Pulling her arm back, her expression turns a bit colder, making her look older. "If you can put him back into his body before his heart beats its last, then I will let you take him from this place," she offers.
"Huh, she won' touch me. Dat is interesting!" Alptraum thinks. "And if I canno?" he asks next, eyes narrowed. There is always something worse, according to legends.
"Then he dies here, and becomes part of my family," Siren replies, and pats the back of the fox's head - the lying down one - pulling back a somewhat bloody palm.. which she licks.
"I don' seem to have much of a choice. Wha are you, anyway?" Alptraum asks as he has to sheath his dagger to get his hands free to try and pick up the transparent fox. He has no idea how to put someone back in their body. Is it like dressing someone after they got too drunk from the booze they stole and tried to go swimming? He had to do that once for this idiot, he still had nightmares about handling that foxes pants.
"I'm a vampire," Siren claims. She doesn't try to hold onto the spirity version of Hexen.. but he tries to hold on to her! "Nooo..." he wails, sounding very much like a ghostly wail. "Traum, I love her. She's beautiful and warm and everyt'ing else is so cold.."
"She no' real!" Alptraum tells him as he continues to pull on the stupid guy! "An dere are three lovely warm kitties back 'ome! Ya haven' forgotten 'bout dem, have ya!? Or yer mom! How will see feel iffin you don' come home?"
"Katka?" Hexen asks, blinking and easing his grip slightly. "And Nadya and Lulu.. did I tell you about the time I caught them washing their underwear?" he asks Alptraum. "Mom paddled me so hard that.. that.. Traum? I'm cold."
"I know, I jus gotta get ya home. Ya hit yer head pretty bad," Alptraum says, his voice a bit softer, "So ya gotta stay with me, avralie? Just focus on me voice an ignore everyone else. 'specially dis ivory tart here."
The spirit body is very cold - but Alptraum doesn't feel any warmth coming off of Siren at all either. It's also very light, so its easy for Alptraum to hold once Hexen finally releases his grip on Siren.
Alptraum looks down at the prone and injured body of Hexen worriedly. "I don have a clue what to do," he thinks as fear grips him; not so much from what's around him as they haven't tried to harm him, odd as that is, but that his only close friend may die. "Come on, just like back into yer clothes; you feel warmer dat way," he tells Hexen as he tries to push the light ... thing back down into the more solid body. "Den we go home. Lotsa people worried, yannow. Even when dey yell, still family. Nothin' matter more, avralie?"
Siren moves off of the altar, so that she's not in Alptraum's way (or for other reasons), and it takes some effort to line up the fox's spirit with his body. And the body is cool, but that could also be from all of the cold mud caking his clothes. Eventually Hexen is all 'tucked in' and Alptraum can hear him breathing.
"Why are ya here?" Alptraum asks Siren as he tries to pick Hexen up now. "Dis place is supposed to be empty."
"Only of the bodies," Siren says. "I came later. The spirits needed someone to guide them. Now, what is your name, child?" she asks. Hexen is dead-weight (or nearly dead weight) at first, but does start to shift a bit on his own.
Alptraum briefly considers hooking Hexen's arms over his wing joints and using flight muscles to help hold his weight up to carry him out. "Does me name really matter?" Alptraum inquires, "I just a gypsy."
"That is also interesting," the vampire notes. "Giving me your name will not give me power over you, if that is your worry. I am curious, is all."
After Adjusting Hexen a bit more and trying to use wing muscles to compensate for his weight, Alptraum says, "Alptraum Reisender." Then he pauses and looks at the 'woman'. "Kin you leave this walled graveyard?"
"There's nothing for me beyond the walls," Siren claims. "Does your name mean anything?"
"Yeh, nothing pleasant, tho," Alptraum remarks. "It's archaic for Nightmare Traveler."
This makes Siren break out into a big grin. "How appropriate," she sings. "Let this encounter be just that then, young man. A nightmare, soon forgotten. It will be best for us both that way," she claims. "Don't you agree?"
"Depends," Alptraum says as he turns his head a bit more, and an old, worn, pendant on a leather strap pulls from his shirt and dangles just above his heart. "Will you ever threaten me family again?"
"I've not threatened you or yours at all, Alptraum," Siren claims. "I took in your friend, to keep him warm. Those that end up here.. well, nobody has ever come to claim them again. I don't think anyone but you could have. So long as your family does not come within my walls, and in such a state that I could interact with them, they have nothing to fear from me."
Alptraum nods at this. "Den dis just a bad dream, an yes, perhaps best forgotten. You keep yer family safe, I and I keep mine safe when I can. We unnerstand each other, I t'ink. I be goin' now. I need t' get him 'ome."
"Of course," Siren says. "You were never here." And then.. Alptraum isn't. Or rather, he finds himself outside the wall.. and at the edge of the gypsy camp with no memory of having gotten there. He and Hexen are covered in mud however, and the fox feels a lot heavier.
"Dagh, you eat too much," Alptraum growls to the heavy fox, and continues on into the camp. "Hey! Need some 'elp, Hex's 'urt, bad hit on de head!"
"Alptraum!" Dimitris calls, arriving first. "Half the troupe about to go lookin' fer ya two!" He picks up Hexen, who mutters something about 'so plump and warm..' before going silent. "I'll take 'im to Xanadu. Did you get hurt?"
"Nah, I be fine," Alptraum says as he goes a bit limp once the weight is removed and his aching muscles can relax. "Jus' dirty. Ijit got himself into trouble again an it always messy pullin' him out. And 'e heavy, canna fly him back alone, no very far anyway."
"Go to your mom, she'll feed you and wash yer clothes," Dimitris says, then turns and hurries towards the center of camp, calling out for Borg and Dawndra.
"Alrigh," Alptraum concedes, now feeling very tired. He heads slowly back to his small section of the camp, wings drooped and dragging a bit. "Did any of dat really happen? Why did dat thing let me jus take 'im? Why did she avoid me?" he wonders. "Mebbe I jus hit my head too. But ... if it were real ... I hope de ladder dat I left in dere gets dose jerks into some serious trouble!"