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'They say the knight, who became a ghost and now haunts the world, holds in his hand the blood-stained sword that pierced his lover's breast,' Autor reads quietly.

He's taking notes on a play, The Wandering Knight, which the drama department asked Fakir to perform in. Naturally, most copies of the play have had their endings torn out, and no one knows who wrote it. Autor knows--or, rather, he has a theory.

Reviews of the play in its heyday litter the library table around the boy. He pecks away at the keyboard of the netbook Jay gave him. The boy types up words like pride and honor, wondering if his cause, too, is strong enough for him to cut down a lover without hesitation.

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"If they pick me, yeah."

What's so weird about that?

"Huh," Autor says, blinking. He can't imagine giving up that kind of control. "Do your cars take any damage if they crash and burn?"

He ducks another branch, and accidentally edges his hand closer to Mirai when gripping the spoiler again.

Mirai grips the spoiler tighter, possibly getting Autor's fingers in the process. "Oh, sorry!" she calls out to him.

"Depends on how hard the crash is."

Speaking of which, she's going a lot faster than one really should be going for such a rough road.

There are a great many bumps, and it's on one of these that Autor jerks his hand up and nearly goes flying. He clings to the spoiler as soon as he can, possibly grabbing Mirai back. "S-Sorry," he gasps out, blush quickly traveling from his roots to his collarbone.

He forces his eyes forward. "Are we supposed to be going this fast?"

"President von Schweetz, if you keep going this fast, it's going to bruise Autor-senpai's butt!" Mirai calls out with all the maturity she possesses.

"Oh, fine. Wimp," Vanellope mutters, but she does slow down a bit.

Edited (coding fail) 2015-01-15 04:52 (UTC)

Autor has no idea how to respond to the rather sweet thought that Miss Kuriyama cares about his butt. He could assure her that it's fine, really, and there's no need to worry--but she's right, actually. He could ask about hers--no. No. Absolutely not. That is the dumbest of dumb ideas.

He'd cover his face in embarrassment, but that would require letting go of the spoiler, and he doesn't know if it's worth that. Frankly, it's hilarious on some level that she would phrase her concern that way, and a large part of Autor has to keep from sniggering, because deep down he's really twelve.

Then Vanellope slows down, and Autor nods to Mirai. "Thanks," he says, and hopes that's enough. "Vanellope, what fuel does this run on? Sugar?"

Mirai's a little pink from it herself. Or from the cold biting her cheeks. She fidgets a little in her spot, sore from the ride herself.

"Is it icing or syrup or something? Most of this is cake, right?" she asks. "Or do all the cars take the same fuel no matter what they're made of?"

"It runs on gasoline. Duh." She rolls her eyes. "All cars run on gasoline."

Game developers can be startlingly unimaginative sometimes.

Autor knows only enough about cars to know that the engine makes a series of explosions when it consumes the gasoline. He's kind of surprised this car, being made of pastries and candy, doesn't catch on fire.

But then again, it's game logic, which he doesn't understand anyway. Frankly, he's much more concerned at this point about the bruises on his butt.

"Do you ever run out on the track?"

"I don't think that's usually how it works," Mirai says.

"I guess you could, if you were dumb enough to not gas up first."

Say, they're getting pretty high up the mountain...

"That doesn't reset?" Autor asks, and glances over his shoulder--and the edge of the road--to the valley below. He turns his head to check on Mirai, wondering if they're too high for her.

"Ah, a-aren't we getting a little high up?" Mirai asks as if on cue, taking a moment to rub some of the cold out of her arm. "Maybe we should start going back?"

"Aww, c'mon, don't tell me you're gonna chicken out now..."

"I'll chicken out," Autor pipes up, clinging to the spoiler as they bounce over the mountain road. "We are getting high, Vanellope."

"I'm j-just getting cold," Mirai adds.

Vanellope huffs a long, exaggerated sigh. "Oh, fine, I guess we can go back."

Autor leans in to speak to Mirai. "If you're cold, I have a hoodie or a cloak in my sylladex which I can get out."

"Can you even open it like this?" Mirai asks. "It might be easier to wait."

"We can find out," Autor says, and lifts his sylladex from his pocket, opening with one hand. The pages flutter too much for him to manage it though. "Ah, sorry! You can use my blazer if you want; I'll be warm enough."

He puts the sylladex away and addresses Vanellope. "Is there a safe path down the mountain?"

"It's okay," Mirai assures him. "It won't take long...right, President von Schweetz?"

"We got up here fine, didn't we?" Vanellope replies. "Hang on, I'm gonna hang a U-turn..."

Autor very briefly considers holding up a hand so that Mirai might not fall off the cart. But they take the turn so fast that he barely has enough wherewithal to hold on himself.

The noise he makes is half-laugh, half-scream. "Are we supposed to take those that fast?" he shouts, still giddy with adrenaline. "Miss Kuriyama, are you all right?"

Edited 2015-01-17 03:55 (UTC)