The pasture of Gint the Younger did not show signs of being visited by a bugbear, nor did the nearby woods. An empty bottle of home-brew liquor was discovered, however, along with a few others near the feeding troughs of the cattle. The residual fumes certainly were powerful enough to curdle just about anything.
With no monster to hunt, Thomas and Agatha resumed their trek, and entered the lands of February, putting them at last into the Winter Court. Springtime in February was a time of celebration though, filled with festivals that usually involved flowers and romance. The populace was determined to keep to their festival traditions despite the accelerated seasons, too, which meant that there was a festival every other week now. Especially in Valenti, the capital. Garlands of flowers seemed to adorn every street, along with colorful streamers and paper-cut Valentine hearts.
The Festival of the Rutting Hind was in full swing when Tom and Agatha arrived, with the streets filled with musicians, dancers, vendors and dew-eyed couples from around Mirari, as it was a favorite for honeymooners. Even the children where being entertained by a troupe of colorful, white-faced clowns.
"I hate clowns," Agatha mutters to Thomas as they make their way past a stall selling candies and pastries. "Scented soaps!" cries a hawker near them. "Strawberry! Chocolate! Mint!" cries another, holding out bottles of colored liquids.
"If the clowns don't kill you, the scents will. Gah. It's completely unnecessary to make soap stink so bad. Not to mention any good tracker could find you half a continent away," Thomas complains as he sidesteps one of the clowns.
The colorful harlequin spins with a flourish next to Thomas, her face hidden behind an ivory mask. "Oh my.. I think those flavored ones are for.." Agatha starts to say, then blushes and notes, "We should find a room. I don't want to carry our stuff everywhere while we're here."
Thomas, being Thomas, can't help but reach out and run his fingers along that mask. He winks to the performer, then returns his attention to Agatha. "Don't you mean rooms? Sharing a single room would raise questions." he says.
"We're in disguise as honeymooners aren't we?" Agatha asks with a grin. "Besides, I want a nice one." She points to a three-story building with a large sign denoting it as the 'Honeyed Moon Hotel'. The upper rooms even have balconies.
"So, who sleeps on the couch, then?" Thomas asks and grins. "And you're a Countess, you can afford a nice room!"
"Heaven forbid you be forced to sleep in a bed, Thomas," Agatha notes. "And a Countess should have a nice room!" she declares, and practically marches to the hotel.
Thomas looks to the sky and asks, "Why me?" Looking very put upon, he follows after the crazy girl.
The Honeyed Moon specializes, unsurprisingly, in honeymoon suites. Every room is a honeymoon suite, and the prices are not cheap. But Agatha is in the mood the splurge, to gets one on the top floor. "C'mon, Thomas!" she calls after getting the key. "You don't have to carry me across the threshold either.."
"Tough! If you insist on playing this game, we're playing it!" Thomas notes to Agatha. "So .. get used to it!"
"You're such a charmer!" Agatha claims after climbing the stairs and unlocking the door. "Do you really intend to carry me?"
Thomas answer to that is to kick the unlocked door the rest of the way opem, throw the packs through the open door ... and without much of a warning, sweeep Agatha off her feet and into his arms. "I haf vou now, leetle girl," he cackles in a terrible faux accent. "Beware ze midnight ravaging!"
Agatha bursts out laughing even as she hangs on to Thomas' neck. "Oh, my big strong brute of a husband!" she manages to say.
"Oh-ho-ho," Thomas continues as he marches in the room. Once on the other side the goofiness breaks a bit as he has to say (and sounding a bit pained), "Remind me to get you to put down that sword next time. I feel like my chest is on fire and the thing is covered, even."
The suit is fairly large, and probably counts as a suite only because it has a separate bathroom and a small dining area next to the balcony. There's a big fireplace with a large sheepskin rug in front of it, and a huge four-poster bed with gauze curtains. A few chests and a changing screen complete the scene, along with a door to what is probably the bathroom. Through the glass balcony doors, the festival can be seen (and heard) on the street below.
"You should have thought of that before sweeping me up," Agatha points out, then ooos at the room.
Thomas sets Agatha down and rubs his chest. "Yes, well, since when do I ever think things through," he points out, "And hey, look! I can sleep on the rug."
"Look at that bed!" Agatha says, and throws herself onto the matress. "I can completely spread out on it!"
"Or be easily tied down to it," Thomas remarks offhandedly...
"Fat chance," the girl says, and gets up to investigate further. She disappears into the bathroom, and then lets out a little.. squeak?
"What? Bathroom gnomes?" Thomas has to ask. He goes and peers around the doorframe leading oto the bathroom
Thomas finds Agatha on her knees, trying to hug an oversized bathtub. There's even a stove to heat a cistern of water (with the extravagance of a hand-pump to fill it with water) and all brass fittings. "I love this room," Redmane whispers. There's even a flush toilet.
"It's no different than bathrooms back in the mortal world," Thomas has to comment. "And if you ask me, far too luxurious!"
"My bathroom back home isn't this big," Agatha argues. "Look at this tub! It's got hinds inlaid on it! And clawed feet! And it's big enough to actually stretch out in! There's nothing wrong with a little luxury now and then. I mean, don't we deserve it?"
"It's also intended for two people to share ... at the same time," Thomas points out and grins impishly.
"Well, that makes sense," Agatha notes, finally getting up. "It must take forever to heat the water for it. But.. do you know what this means?" she asks, looking at Thomas with wide eyes.
"Not a clue," Thomas admits.
"It means we have to work up a sweat dancing to really get the most from this tub!" Agatha declares, index finger pointed ceiling-wards. "I'm going to change into my dress," she then says, and walks out into the main room.
"Does that mean you expect us to share the tub?" Thomas asks as Agatha passes by. "What would others say?"
"What others?" Agatha asks, dragging her pack behind the changing screen (although her head still pokes over the top). "Wait.. what are you talking about sharing?"
"The tub. It is intended for two at the same time," Thomas reminds her. He's grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
"Oh.." Agatha notes, ducking down for a moment before tossing her travel clothes over the screen. "Well, that depends on how nice of a date we have."
"Hah! So you are trying to sneak a date," Thomas declares, "Typical. I am irresistible."
"You took me to Foxworthy's and bought me a soda once already," Agatha points out amidst the sound of fabric rustling. "So you snuck a date first!"
"That wasn't a date. It was a plotting session," Thomas claims. "And I don't think I have anything to wear. Well, outside of my usual travel clothing. Well, and the one outfit for addressing the court, but ... bleh."
"Do we need to go shopping for you?" Agatha asks, brushing down her dress as she comes around the screen.
"Depends on if you want to see me in courtly finery," Thomas answers as he shrugs slightly. "I don't think anyone here would recognize me."
"Is it regal or silly?" Agatha has to ask. "Or the outfit from the ball? That was nice."
"Regal, I ... guess. It's fairly plain compared to most, but then that's because I refused a lot of ornamentation," Thomas notes.
"Well, that should be fine, as long as you can dance in it!" Agatha notes.
"Well ... it also depends on if you can stand the competition you will surely have," Thomas claims and waggles his brow.
"What?!" Agatha asks. "You aren't really going to be flirting with girls out there are you?"
"Maaaaybe," Thomas claims, "Don't think you can compete and win?"
"Win what?" Agatha asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest and cocking her hip. "Like you'd do anything with some strange girl besides run away?"
"You never know. Can you take the risk?" Thomas counters and flutters his eyelashes.
"Hah, you wouldn't da-" Agatha starts to say, then thinks better of daring Thomas to do anything. "Besides, if you're not with me, I'll be swamped with guys wanting to dance with me!"
"Until they do, you step on their toes, and they have to limp away," Thomas counters, looking as always, impish about the whole matter.
"Hey, I took ballroom dancing class," Agatha notes. "You let Rachel lead at the ball, didn't you?"
"It's a secret!" Thomas claims as he leans against the nearby doorframe. Demeanor shiting a bit serious, though, he asks, "Do you really want to dance with me? And, ah, I'm not sure how to ask this other than ... why? All I do is, well, tend to drive you crazy."
"Because you never danced with Muirenn," Agatha notes, and goes to sit on the bed. "And dancing is a big deal! More than holding hands or sharing sodas. And it makes you uncomfortable for some reason," she points out. "Now, get changed so we can go out and have some fun!"
"But I thought you didn't want to become more like Muirenn? If I dance with you, she and you might become more ... merged," Thomas claims.
"Like I said.. you never danced with her, so this shouldn't draw her out," Agatha notes. "You know she wasn't exactly the romantic sort."
"Unless I say, kissed you, in the middle of dancing," Thomas counters. "So, no getting out of this, right?"
"I want to go dancing," Agatha says firmly. "We came all this way, and I've never had a real dance with a boy before. Ahearn doesn't count."
"He would be mad to hear that. He considers himself quite the stud," Thomas jokes as he goes and grabs his pack. "And this will take a bit, so get comfortable."
Agatha kicks her heels as she waits. "I think I saw chocolate-covered marshmallow stuff on the way in," she chats. "And food on sticks."
"And if you eat too much you'll look fat," Thomas calls back and closes the door behind him.
"Never!" Agatha proclaims, punching the air. "It's a wonder I'm not a stick figure as it is. And you'd better be more charming if you hope to get to second base tonight."
"If I wanted that, all I would have to do is use that ointment on you again," Thomas calls out through the closed door. The sound of running water follows.
"You said yourself that it doesn't count if it's for first-aid," Agatha points out. "Besides, that was in an old ruin - Muirenn's sort of place. There probably isn't a ruin on the Autumn Path that we didn't.. uh.. never mind.."
Thomas answers that by laughing. Loudly. "Say," Thomas asks after he recovers, "Why haven't you just taken Ahearn up on his dating offers. I'm sure he's more gentlemanly than I am."
"I don't want to ruin our working relationship," Agatha notes. "And because he's a bit too insistent and jealous. Thank goodness he's busy with the mares for now.." she adds, although she sounds a bit disappointed at the end.
"Hah! See? You do like him that way," Thomas accuses.
"Don't jump to conclusions!" Agatha snaps back. "He wants Muirenn back."
"So are you trying to tell me she was involved with him?" Thomas has to ask
"No, she wasn't like that," Agatha says snarkily. "He just thinks I'm too.. naive or something.. and need constant supervision. Or.. I don't know! Okay! He's not your typical horse! And I'm not going to be turned into a mare for him. You and him.. always wanting me to turn into something with four feet!"
"Because you get so flustered! It's cute," Thomas claims, "You really need to relax and take things less seriously. There's no grand conspiracy about you. I should know, I'm the expert at conspiring against you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Agatha says. "And are you talking about in Ainigton too?"
"There you go taking things too seriously again," Thomas groans, "Agatha, you need to relax already."
"It would be easier if you weren't always trying to tease me or get my goat," the girl complains.
"But that's my solemn duty," Thomas claims.
"I know it means you love me," Agatha claims, although Thomas can't see her grin. "Because you always want my attention, even if it means ticking me off."
"I want everyone's attention," Thomas claims and in a rather dramatic entrance, kicks the bathroom door open and strides out. Courtly attire, indeed. The change is night and day. Gone are the worn and dusty clothing, replaced by sleek, tailored materials. The base color is black; black pants and boots. From there different colors are mixed in, all from the winter and fall houses. A shirt which color was taken from the autumn leaves. Over that shirt is a moonlight silver vest, and across that a golden sash. He's even gone so far as to to comb his hair. The wild mane has been untangles and bushed back into a flowing layered effect of silky black. It even probably has some hidden pins in it that are holding its shape. He puts his hands on his hips and complains, "I feel so clean."
"Oooo," Agatha coos approvingly. "Very nice. No girl would dare approach an obvious noble like yourself!" she says, getting to her feet. Her own attire was chosen to be somewhat average looking, and it shows next to Thomas. "I'm surprised you brought this outfit along."
"You commented people might want to meet us. I had to bring something," Thomas points out. "And as for other girls, well, I guess I will have to approach them!"
"And leave me alone?" Agatha asks, half closing her eyes and practically purring the words in an attempt to be.. sultry.
"I can always tie you up and stuff you in a closet. I did bring rope," Thomas says and goes for his pack...
"Very funny," Agatha says, and then runs her fingers through her loose hair. "Hmmm. Should I put my hair up or style it or anything? Try to look more elegant?"
"Or we could find a place to do a few style adjustments before finding the dance," Thomas suggests. "Maybe get one of those porcelain masks..."
"You don't mean like the clowns use?" Agatha asks, swirling her hair in her hand. "Or do you mean those fancy ones on sticks with feathers and stuff?"
"Well, while I could comment about a clown mask ... I do mean one of the fancier ones. Both of us could probably use one, really. There is a high likelyhood someone here would recognize us," Thomas says.
"We could get our faces painted too," Agatha suggests. "That's something else I've never had done."
"Painted with what?" Thomas asks, then gets an evil grin. "Or should it be you pick for me asand I pick for you?"
"If we pick for each other.. you get to pick first," Agatha claims, leaning on the wall next to Thomas. "So that I have a chance to retaliate is you make me look stupid."
"That's safe. I can't make you look any more ... ahem. Well, I guess we should go," Thomas says and grins. "After you."
Agatha opens the door, and notes, "Remember, I'm trying to be someone from September. So a mouse-mask or paint pattern is acceptable if you can't think of anything else."
"Bah, it needs to be more imaginative!" Thomas claims as follows Agatha out of the room.
Out in the streets, there are plenty of places offering face paintings (some of them with patterns and designs on display) ranging from the simple to the exotic, which incorporate glitters and scales and other pieces that aren't strictly paint.
Thomas selects a decent vendor and gets Agatha to sit before he goes and confers with the artist. There's a lot of hushed whispering and pointing at Agatha. A few bits of muffled laughter, too.
Agatha fidgets in the seat, wishing she'd brought a sword along to get a little more respect.
Thomas saunters back and smiles. "It has been decided. There is one catch," he says.
"What?" Agatha asks warily.
"You have to close your eyes for the duration," Thomas answers.
"Well, without a mirror it wouldn't matter would it?" Agatha notes. "For a moment I thought you were going to have me open up my bodice or something."
"It does matter. You could still see some of what he's doing. And that's a great idea, loosen your bodice a bit," Thomas says.
"No way, you're just saying that to try and get a discount off the artist," Agatha accuses. "I'll keep my eyes closed though," she agrees.
The artist comes over, an older, graying fey man. As he flexes his fingers, the fey says, "Your young friend has issued me quite the challenge, milady. I do hope it will meet with your satisfaction. Now, if you will close your eyes, I'll begin the work," he says and bows deeply to Agatha.
"A challenge?" Agatha almost squeaks, and then nods to the artist and closes her eyes after taking a deep breath to relax.
Agatha can hear the man scoot a chair up next to her and he rustle of paints and other tools as he settles in. And as it turns out, Thomas should have warned her how long this was going to take. For well over an our Agatha can feel the delicate touch of a brush on the right side of her face. The artist works along her jawline, to even the ridge of her right ear. A guess is Thomas requested an asymmetrical design, since it seems to be focused on the right side of her face. About thirty minutes in, the brush is put down and Agatha can feel little bits of something being carefully affixed to her face and ear.
Please don't tickle, the girl repeats to herself over and over. Agatha's barely even had to deal with makeup yet in her life (despite her handmaidens' constant efforts) and sitting still for so long while keeping her eyes closed is starting to get to her.
The brush returns as the artist seems to be feathering a bit more makeup on ... and then it finally ends. "Well, I think that looks quite well. One of my best works, I must say," the artist comments.
Thomas says, "I agree. You were able to capture the idea better than I expected."
"Can I open my eyes now?" Agatha asks carefully, as if worried her face will crack if she moves her jaw too much.
"Well, as fun as it would be to watch you dance with your eyes closed ... it's safe to open them now," Thomas laughs.
Agatha opens her eyes, and resists the immediate urge to reach up and touch her face. "Is it dry?" she asks. "Can I see it?"
As the Artist brings a mirror around, Thomas explains, "The idea come to me from an old and epic story. A very famous battle." And when the mirror comes into view, Agatha sees that the left side of her face looks normal, save for some makeup to simply smooth and accentuate the feminine aspects. But as it goes to the right and crosses over her nose, everything changes. Instead of pale skin, delicate golden scaling has been applied. The scales along the underside of her cheek has been shaded in slightly to enhance the angularness of it, making her jawline look even that more delicate. Starting at the point just between her brows and ticking back to her hairline several small 'ivory' horns have been affixed, accents, but nothing too garish. And her right ear, well, a bit of work was done there to extend it up and back some, creating a webbed look. And with the way her fiery red hair flows, well, it looks like one impressive mane. The contrast is interesting, the left flows from a delicate young w
woman to that of a proud, young, stylized dragon.
Agatha actually gasps at the effect, and looks up at Thomas. "It's really beautiful," she says softly.
Thomas leans in and whispers, "It shows no house and who would look for Redmane wearing a mask depicting the creature she felled in her most famous battle, eh?"
"It's very bold, certainly," Agatha says, smiling. "And meaningful too. I'll have to rethink the design I wanted for you now."
"Scrapping the embarrassing idea?" Thomas says with a laugh, "Eh, you don't have to do anything at all."
"It wasn't going to be embarrassing," she claims. "It just seems rather humdrum now. I have a better idea now."
Thomas waves his hand. "Not necessary, really!" he says and turns to pay the artist for his work.
Getting up, Agatha puts a hand on Thomas' shoulder, and says, "You can't escape that easily. The day's still young, so you can take your turn in the chair."
"You're such a terror of a dragon," Thomas jokes and winks. Now that the Artist is paid, Thomas flops down into the chair and kicks his feet up on a nearby box.
Agatha now takes her turn whispering with the artist, and using hidden hand gestures as well. "You have to close your eyes, too," she turns to tell Thomas.
"I know no fear!" Thomas claims and promptly closes his eyes.
The artist goes to work, and Thomas can tell that he's doing a half-face painting, only this time it's on the left side of the face. The details must not be as intricate (but then, what is more intricate that painting hundreds of scales), but there are some longer strokes on the cheeks, and something extra added to his ear as well.
It's amazing Thomas is actually behaving and not trying to mess with the artist while he works. His fidget release is apparently his feet, though, which waggle back and forth.
At least it doesn't take as long as Agatha's painting. The artist declares that he's finished, and Agatha tells Thomas that he can open his eyes and stretch.
Thomas is slow about sitting up and opening his eyes, as if trying to say he's not worried.
Grinning, Agatha holds up the mirror. Since Tom's skin naturally tends to the pale side, the transition from his normal skin on the right to snow white fur texture on the left is subtle. The shading makes his upper lip on that side seem more feline, along with a darker nose which is also painted to look wider. The white fur-painting goes all the way to the ear, which has a pointed white tuft of fur attached to make it look more pointed and cat-like as well.
The reaction Agatha gets is probably not quite what she expected. Thomas' expression is ... mixed? No ... it's sad, even though he manages a small smile. "Lyne," he says quietly. "You remembered."
Agatha nods. "He made quite the impression on me," she says. "I knew you could be a lifelong friend because of him."
Thomas pays the Artist, then asks him if he could have a moment alone. The artist, of course, nods. When the Artist has left, Thomas asks, "Did you ever wonder what happened to him?"
"I assumed he passed away eventually, or else went back to his people," Agatha says. "Something happened before your own.. disappearance?"
Thomas sticks his hands in his pockets. "Yes. The Bandit Queen did," Thomas answers, "It was still early in my travels. He was a member of the hawks, really, though not often spoken of. He was the first of us to really actively try and hunt Elysia down. Well, outside of the cat and mouse games she and I had had been doing for a time. Somehow, she learned of our ... well, that he wasn't just another member."
"You mean she killed him just to get to you?" Agatha asks, looking shocked (or half shocked, have dragony). "And you still let her go after that?"
"No, she didn't kill him," Thomas says and looks down. "She couldn't catch me, but she could him and did. She used him as leverage for me to enter into the pact that protected her for a long time. I couldn't let him die; I would have done anything to save him ... and I did. Lyne was furious with me over it; that I could agree to something that would give her close to free reign just to save him."
"That's when you started... keeping your distance from friends?" Agatha asks, looking concerned.
"We had a huge argument. It ended with him saying he hated me. I told him, well, that I hoped it would be a long hate and that one day he would understand," Thomas says, "We still worked together now and then after that ... but it was formal." He lets out a long breath, adding, "My last journey, the one where I ... died, I stopped near where I knew he lived. He has just started his own family. I saw his children from a distance, but I couldn't bring myself to speak with him. I just went on and well ... what happened I don't think I'm ready to talk much about. But to answer your question, yes, it was part. I didn't want to endanger others again by virtue of them simply being close to me."
"I don't suppose I could have gone and cut off her head either?" Agatha asks. "I wasn't a Hawk, so.. would I have been bound by that oath?"
"You would have had to have found her, which was the trick. I couldn't help directly against her, nor could any other Hawk," Thomas explains, "And I make no apologies for the pact made. He may have not been fey, but he was my family." And with a small shrug of his shoulders, he adds, "And I like the choice of design. Even with the falling out, I hold my memories of him dearly."
"I think he wanted you to get out and enjoy life more too," Agatha says, offering her elbow to Thomas.
Thomas slips his arm around Agatha's. "Want to hear a nice thought?" he asks.
"Always," Agatha replies.
"That somewhere out there I still may have some great great great grandchildren," Thomas quips as he looks to Agatha. The left side of his lips curl into a feline smile. "I should look for them some day."