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Back from Vacation Multipup Madness!

Mia is walking on the lake today. Not around or near but on, her icy footsteps leaving frost trails on top of the water. Autor had given her a lot to think about and not in a good way. Pacing like this is helping take her mind off of it in hopes that some time away from the situation will give her an idea of what she can do about it.

It's probably a good thing that she can't really see Lohengrin under his heavy cloak. The Knight, unaware of the new arrival and what he might reveal, is making his usual circuits around the lake with Pfeifferkuchen. The wedding is fast approaching and the rides with the chestnut mare are a welcome peace compared to the excitement at home.

He passes the greenhouse, where Lucas is at work with the winter plants. He's felt a little more purple than green today. He occasionally takes a moment to put some mint in his mouth, the sharp coolness soothing his insides and providing an anchor to reality.

Eventually all three will trickle inside, Mia to a fireplace armchair with some warm naan, Lohengrin to a booth with a hearty stew, and Lucas to the bar with some white poinsettias.

[ooc: Specify who you want and where or you may get tagged by any/all of them.]

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Autor "wakes up" for some definition of the phrase. His mouth is fuzzy and he has a bump on his head. When did I fall asleep? he thinks, fairly annoyed with his show of weakness.

Then he puts on his glasses. Abruptly, the walls become those walls, and he realizes where he is. He squeaks.

He bolts off the bed and towards the door, where he finds a key and a note writ in feminine writing. That woman, he thinks venomously, and stuffs the note in his pocket.

After that, he straightens his posture and primps his clothing. Outwardly renewed, Autor swaggers through the bar, out to the grounds, and by a certain lake.

[Tag: Mia]

The Guildmaster looks down at the ice under her feet. She traces with her toe and taps at the creatures swimming contently below before continuing her walk.

At some point, she does look up and notice Autor. There's a brief splash as she's brought away from her distraction. She has to bring her feet up a little in order to get back on the surface of the lake, shaking some cold water off.

Now what was that drying spell Draco taught her again?

Autor blinks at the splashing sound, instinctively turning his head to the lake.

What the f--

"That's very clever, you know," he says. "Wearing wooden clogs."

"Wooden clogs?"

She shakes out the bottom of her skirt some before stepping closer to the edge of the lake.

He bows his head, trying to remain polite despite his burning urge to throw her note in her face. I knew it, he thinks, that was the door out of that hellhole. I'm outside, so I can find my way back to town. That she's here just proves it.

"I've been told that one can walk on water using shoes made of wood."

"Hmm," she hums, lifting one of her sopping leather shoes. "I wonder if that would be easier than what I'm doing."

Mia puts her foot down again.

"How are you today?"

Autor spends the next three minutes trying to figure out exactly how she's doing that.

Then he realizes there are much more pressing matters at hand. Primarily? Scolding.

"I would have been much better," he says, keeping the bite in his voice tightly controlled, "if you had shown me this door in the first place.

"Now that I'm outside, I'll take my leave of you," he says, sketching another little bow, "and gladly."

He's just going to have to learn, isn't he?

"Be careful," she says. "It gets awfully cold out here."

Autor knows that tone of voice. It never fails to raise his hackles.

"I don't need pity from you," he says, outright glaring at her.

"You sound like my husband," she says, rolling her eyes.

Autor frowns for a moment.

His first impulse is to say something along the lines of, "You're married? Someone actually committed his life to you? Perish the thought!"

But his lips remain closed. His tongue is dry. He doesn't know why that is.

What's up with this weather? he thinks instead.

"Are you wearing a heavy enough jacket?" she asks. "Winters can be pretty harsh here."

And now his face is back to being pinched. "I don't know what you're talking about. We don't have winters here."

And if that thought keeps him warm, so be it.

"I'll be sure to let the infirmary know when you faint of heat stroke," she comments in a rare display of sarcasm.

Was that sarcasm he just heard? Did she just dare to get snippy with him?

Oh, no. That was his domain.

"Do you ever pay attention to other people?" he snaps, steadfastly ignoring the fact that she's paid a great deal of her attention to him since he arrived. "We don't have summers here, either. It's a quiet, peaceful, 10-30 degrees Celsius. No snow, no heat, and my jacket is just fine, thank you."

"Suit yourself. I'll likely still be here on the lake should you change your mind about leaving from the grounds."

She traces the ice under her feet with her toe again.

"Fine!" he says, tossing his nose in the air. "I will! Goodbye, then!"

He turns around, hesitating for a split second. Then a thought worms its way into his heart, reminding him that he hasn't given her a reason to call him back.

Plus, she's crazy, he thinks. She probably kid-napped me in the first place!

"You, madam, have committed a grave sin," he says. "Among other things, you've made me late for my music lesson." If she's observant, she'll catch that his clenched fists are trembling.

"Hmph!" he says, and stalks off somewhere, pretending he knows which direction he's going in.

Somehow she's able to contain her laughter, lips pressed together.

But if he should find himself in trouble, well...maybe he'll ask for help.

I've seen this part before, Autor thinks as he stumbles through the forested dark. He tries to convince himself that he's not afraid by focusing on how annoyed he is that he doesn't know this part of Goldkrone by heart. There's nothing like a forest, nothing--

He yelps as he trips over a tree root. "Ah, yes," he says, nursing his bruised shin. "The ever-present exposed root. It's almost cliché by now! Why, it's almost like I'm in an enchanted fore--" Autor starts, but bites his tongue before he speaks the words.

Suddenly, the forest's spooky presence makes sense. Of course. How could I miss Drosselmeyer's hand in this? He's written me into a trap!

He shivers. The dark seems a bit more monstrous than it was. It's almost suffocating. Then, he sees a light. It's dim, but it's enough to rekindle his hopes until he gets to it.

"A bunny?" he says, blinking at its luminescence. "What the--"

[edited for violence and girlish screaming]

Finally knocking the damn thing off, Autor runs to the lake, and, hopefully, that woman.

I will not shake before her, he thinks. He fixes his uniform as best he can with a mangled shoulder, multiple bite wounds, and a deep gash in his head. Finally, he strolls up to Mia, who is, he notes with relief, still on the lake.

"Did you know," he says conversationally even though his blood boils and his adrenaline makes him twitch, "that there are things in the woods?"

"Yes," she says. "I warned you about them yesterday."

Mia makes her way off of the lake and looks him over.

"Goodness, they got you good."

He looks her over back. "Well, if you actually knew, you could have warned me a little better," he says, pressing a hand to his head.

Why is he dizzy? There's no reason for him to be dizzy.

"But I'm not talking about sparrows. There are things," he says, trying to impress his point upon her. "In the woods. Like bunnies."

"Yes, the demon bunnies. I mentioned them before the mermaids yesterday."

Mia takes some things from her pocket, green leafy herbs and orange nuts about the size of pecans.

"These can take care of your injuries."

Watching her fingers, the gears in Autor's brain creaked to life.

"You know about the demon bunnies, then," he says quietly. "And now you're giving me herbs for my wounds."

"Mia, you're... You're a witch?" Autor asks, taking a step back. "This doesn't seem like my role in the story, but are you here to kill me?"

He has to fight not to close his eyes and turn his head away.

"Yes and no. I am a witch but that doesn't mean I just go around killing people."

Even when they upset her. Though she does put the herbs and healing nuts away, figuring Autor likely doesn't trust her now.

"And that doesn't necessarily mean I'm part of this Story you've talked about, at least not the way you might think."

Rabastan is, quite simply put, a very happy man.

Well, not quite. Very happy? Yes. A man? Um. Not at the moment.

Right now, he is a very happy otter, indulging himself in frosty fun and frolic.

PLOOF! He dives into the snow.

Pip! Up pops his head. He looks about.

Ah, right in front of him is a nice, not-too-steep incline. Just the right angle for gravity to send him towards the lake for a dip.

Slip-slide he goes, towards the water.

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