(no subject)

[iambetadraconis]

You'd think by now he knew how things worked at the Bar at the End of the Universe to recognise its weird whenever it sprung up...

He didn't talk to the drunken man; only passed him by.

Innocent, for a beginning.

And an hour after that, he'd forgotten even that much.

But when he saw that oh-so-simple-looking cube, with all those colours...

He spent a good three hours twisting the damn thing this way and that, trying to figure it out and getting steadily more annoyed with it, before giving it up as a lost cause and deciding to hand it over to someone else instead, so that they could share the frustration.

It ended up in his pocket. Presumably for later.

With that little matter settled, he went about looking for something else to do.

That's when he made another discovery.

Contrary to popular opinion, rocks are not dull. They're interesting. Unique. Fascinating.

And the bloody things have their own personality, that you'd only discover once you've gotten and spent time with two or three of them.

Five or six.

Ten or twenty.

And now here, at his home in Lunar, one of the rooms has been transformed into a ... kennel? Stable? Rockery? full of rocks and stones of all sizes and kinds, much to Elea's amusement.

Or is it annoyance?

Well, while her beau spends time dusting his granite companions, she's sitting downstairs waiting for someone just a little more inclined to talk about far more normal things than whether basalt is given towards playfulness, or if flint rocks are happiest in groups.

She examines the kettle that's steadily heating up.

He should be here any minute now...

Comments

[herr_bookman]

Autor's first minute or two of thoughts are completely taken up by how ridiculously gorgeous Rabastan's house is. Those pictures did not do this place justice.

As hesitant as he feels, he knocks on the door firmly. Cockily. Expecting a maid or some other domestic servant--because seriously, you'd need one with a house this large--he holds up the houseplant he'd purchased as a gift.

Because, well, that's just what you do when you come to someone else's house. Apparently.

[iambetadraconis]

Alas, fancy as it might look, there are no servants to tend to it. Until now, only Rabastan oversaw the upkeep.

Still does.

Why make Elea do it? That wouldn't be right.

"Hello young man." A gentle voice floats out the door before it's opened fully. "I see you have a talent for punctuality."

Pause.

"Oh. What's that you have there?"

[herr_bookman]

"Oh," he says, a bit startled. Then he nods politely. "Elea."

She sounds so different when she's not flirting, he thinks, and stares his feet for a moment. He reminds himself that, while he's perfectly fine with her not liking him, he might want to avoid making the situation worse, for Rabastan's sake. When did I start to give a damn?

"These are, ah, Ornithogalum arabicum," he says, gesturing to the white blooms. "Also known as Star-of-Bethlehem flowers."

[iambetadraconis]

"Oh, these are lovely! Thank you Autor."

She pauses to examine the flowers.

"These are not like any I've seen."

Then,

"Please. Do come in. I know it's warming up now that it's spring but there's no need to stand about outside.

"And the tea should—"

A whistle sounds from the kitchen.

"Be ready now."

[herr_bookman]

Probably because he had them imported from a bar. If there's a flower language on Lunar, he doesn't know it. Though now the fact occurs to him that neither she nor Rabastan will recognize that these particular blooms mean reconciliation. Huh.

"I hope they'll take should you decide to plant them," he says. "They favor cool weather."

He pauses before crossing the threshold. It seems like such a final step for such a small one.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he says as he passes through the doorway.

[iambetadraconis]

A bar Rabastan still hasn't told her about.

He'll tell her though.

Eventually.

He's just a bit preoccupied at the moment.

Thank Althena that it's a weekend, though given how all-consuming his obsession with rocks is, it might prove to be an interesting week or so ahead when he returns to work. Gideon and Gavin will be on the opposite side of "amused".

"I think I shall. There's plenty of places to plant them."

She sets the plant down on the kitchen table as she goes to retrieve the tea things and rescue the kettle from the stove.

"If you want, you can help me bring either the kettle or the cups and saucers. Then I'll see if I can extricate Rabastan from his current room."

[herr_bookman]

"What mess is he tangled up in now?" Autor snorts, though he tries to lace the sound with good humor rather than his normal snark.

He goes for the kettle as opposed to the cups, as he doesn't know quite where they are.

[iambetadraconis]

They aren't too hard to find. The best cups are kept in one of the cupboards, where they won't get banged up.

And since Autor's the guest [well, so is Elea, but she's moving into "nearly permanent resident" territory here], he gets the best china.

"You make it sound like he's always in trouble," she says as she retrieves the sugar, cream and other things Autor might use to take his tea.

"No. He's upstairs right now giving names to his pets. Well. He calls them pets. I think he's either being silly, or he's come down with something. And I'm not sure what it is, if he is sick, since he appears to be otherwise quite sane, if you overlook his obsessions for half a minute, that is."

[herr_bookman]

Don't bend over backwards for this ingrate.

"I am sure there are times when he is not," Autor says diplomatically. Then he stills. "What manner of 'pets'?"

Rabastan, silly? Surely you jest.

[iambetadraconis]

It's called "being nice to the guest". Or civil. Diplomatic.

Whatever.

"This is rather unusual behaviour. He isn't like this. Normally. That's what makes it such a puzzle."

She sighs, and sits down at the table.

"Laugh if you like, but for some reason Rabastan has gathered up every rock he could carry, brought them home, gave them their own room, and is right now naming every last one of them.

"Last night, he actually wanted to discuss with me what kinds of bedding materials this rock or that actually preferred."

It was, quite possibly, the first night Elea ever spent in the guest's bedroom, it was that absurd.

[herr_bookman]

Diplomatic works.

Autor busies himself by pouring water into the cups, and looking around for tea. "Hm. That is a puzzle."

Which is great! This kid loves those.

"So the symptoms appeared abruptly? When? Have they been fairly constant, or has it grown worse over time?" he asks, settling into a chair opposite her. If he seems a little eager to get to the bottom of this, Elea, well. Surely that's a trick of the light.

His expression changes abruptly, when he seems to realize something. "Wait, has he eaten? I assume so, since he spoke with you last night. Have you left the house since this started? Do you think he'd starve if you left him to fend for himself?"

Autor furrows his brow, looking ever so slightly distraught. "This might become a serious problem if it continues."

Then he cups his chin in his hand and stares off at the wall, a bit detached from the fact that Elea's even in the room. "I don't think he's under Imperius. I suppose someone could have modified a Cheering Charm to associate rocks with contentment and thereby foster an obsession? But I can't imagine who would possess his brand of magic, let alone who would do that to him, specifically."

He offers Elea a dry smile, indicating he's not quite sure what to make of the situation, even after all of these words. "Seems like a harmless prank gone awry."

[iambetadraconis]

"Well," she begins, offering the tea blend to Autor. A mix of fruit and spice that Elea's mother made and she brought to drink whenever she spent time at Rabastan's house. "Two days ago I sent Rabastan upstairs to retrieve something for me."

Her cheeks turn a little pink, and despite herself, there's a hint of satisfaction in that slight smile of hers.

Quickly she turns her attention to adding a bit of honey to her tea. Not because she's worried about Autor feeling scandalised—she's not worried about what he thinks is proper—but to get her mind back on track.

"He was fine when he went to get it. But when he returned he looked oddly annoyed about something, and had a slight whiff of liquor on him. And we don't keep the spirits in that room.

"And he certainly did not remember what I asked him to get. Instead he went straight outside and began gathering rocks.

"And here's the thing: he couldn't have been gone longer than it takes to get up the stairs, find what I wanted, and return. Certainly not long enough for him to have been pranked. It's not possible.

"The good news is that he still remembers to eat, but good luck getting him to talk about anything other than rocks."

She sighs.

"I've been a healer's assistant, so I should have some idea of whatever might be the matter, but my experiences are leaving me bereft of any possible answer."

[herr_bookman]

Autor makes a fairly educated guess about how long to steep his tea. He's a little surprised at how much he likes the taste. As he listens, he blinks at her blush, but can't ascribe it to anything. These two flush at random intervals whenever they think of each other.

He nods at the proper times in her speech, tracking the cadence. No wonder she's able to flirt so easily, he thinks. She's not as grating as most people when she speaks at length.

"Really," he says, hiding his smile in his teacup. "He was only upstairs for a moment? You're right, there's no possible way he could have been pranked in that time."

So Milliways is another secret he keeps from her. Interesting.

"What a strange case," Autor says, and drains his teacup. "Well, shall we go see to him, or wait for whatever this magical effect--and no doubt about it, this is magical--to taper off?"

[iambetadraconis]

Should he wish to, Elea can send him home with some of the blend, or write down what goes into it if he means to make it himself.

"Only a moment. I swear that's how long he was upstairs."

She traces the rim of the cup, wondering just what exactly could've happened to cause the sudden change in her lover.

Then sips at her tea.

It takes her a few minutes to finish the cup.

"We should. You certainly know a lot about magic, even though you likely can't use any of it yourself."

She makes it sound like it's a great shame that all of Autor's magical studies are going to waste because he lacks the ability to put it to real use.

Getting up, she makes her way out of the kitchen, then turns to see if he's following. "This way?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor just might have to ask; this really is quite delicious. "I believe you," he says. "That couldn't have possibly happened to him in a moment."

He nearly bristles at her next words, but then realizes that the tone isn't meant to hurt. It just does. And it sounds a little too close to pity for his liking.

How dare she make that assessment so casually?

The boy drains his cup with a single tip of his head, and gently sets it down on the saucer. "Yes," he says quietly, following behind her at a cool distance.

[iambetadraconis]

Then she'll give it to you. Both a packet as well as the recipe.

Unaware of his annoyance, she nods and resumes her lead to where Rabastan's rockery is.

Just as Autor probably suspected, the interior of the house is considerable. Several rooms are passed before they get to the stairs.

But when they do, it's only two flights up before they reach the floor Rabastan is on.

"Down the hall," she informs Autor.

From one of the rooms, a high-pitched voice can be heard. High-pitched, but very recognisable.

"Oh my. Ah, Althena. Is he baby talking to those rocks of his?"

Somehow she makes rubbing her forehead in annoyance look like a facepalming.

[herr_bookman]

All right, Autor was respectful at the door. He was respectful at the table. And he was respectful on the walk here.

Now he snickers. Autor opens the door without ceremony. He closes his eyes and grins. "Rabastan, I am going to love hearing your explaina--Oh."

To say Autor was quite a bit surprised when he opened his eyes would be quite a bit of a lie.

The rockery looked like a Zen garden had exploded. Rocks lined the shelves, taking up space on every surface. Some of them had outfits.

"So, it seems there are rocks," he says intelligently, to Elea.

[iambetadraconis]

Elea, however, is pinching the bridge of her nose.

This isn't an obsession here. Or if it was, what led up to it was merely a prelude.

Obsession or not, this has gone from "absurd" to "downright surreal".

And that look of childlike innocence on his face is not helping her remain upset by all this.

All these rocks.

"Well," she manages to get out. "I see you're taking very good care of all your ... rocks."

Elea isn't grinding her teeth, but it sure sounds like she would be had this been anyone else but Rabastan.

Rabastan, on the other hand, is beaming from what he thinks is a compliment from his girlfriend.

[herr_bookman]

After blinking at Elea for a few moments, Autor takes his sylladex--a leather-bound journal--out of his pocket and gently baps the wizard on the back of the head.

"Are you aware that you've worried her with this inexplicable obsession of yours?" he says, and sniffs. "Honestly, Rabastan, I'm appalled."

Tsking as he picks up one of the smaller rocks, Autor shakes his head. "I don't know enough about Lunar's magic theory to make an educated guess as to what's happened to you. How frustrating."

[iambetadraconis]

"Autor!"

"OW LAY OFF!"

Now it's Elea's turn to be appalled.

"There'll be no hitting my boyfriend here, young man."

"I'm not obsessed I just really like rocks!"

Elea is all >:I at Rabastan.

"You'll have to forgive us, love, but you are carrying this a bit too far."

"No, I'm not."

"Rabastan, you've never once mentioned to me that you wanted a pet. Let alone several. Why now, and why rocks?"

"Why not rocks? They're the easiest thing in the world to care for! Even a child could do it!"

"Small wonder that this is such a success for you."

The comment just flies over his head.

[herr_bookman]

Autor watches the game of volleyball with interest until the last spike, whereupon he promptly cracks up.

"Well, Elea, since there's no hope for him," the boy says, grinning wickedly, "shall we make dinner and leave Rabastan to his sentimental sedentary sediments?"

Well, Rabastan? his cheeky gaze says. Your move.

[iambetadraconis]

You just love to show off your verbal proficiency, don't you?

Even Elea thinks that was some marvelous alliteration there.

"What? No!" he protests. "I mean..."

"Autor's got a point though. Why not come down to eat? It's almost time for lunch, and your ... er ... friends won't be scurrying off on you while your back is turned. Honestly, I don't think they could run away even if they wanted to."

"But..."

"I'm sure they'll be fine while you eat. You're taking very good care of them after all."

He seems to be shuffling his feet, looking rather uncertain about this idea.

[herr_bookman]

But of course.

Autor gently takes Elea by the elbow, after looking to her for her consent. It's a pointedly friendly gesture; no stealing here, promise. "Well, come along," he says. "He's dithering too much to actually come down. Apparently he wants to spend more time with his 'pets' than with people."

Then he gushes as he tries to lead her from the room. "Besides, he eats so much, I bet you're a fabulous cook. Unless you don't do the cooking? In which case I will; no need for the two of us to go hungry while Rabastan sits in this drafty room."

[iambetadraconis]

Sorry Autor but this requires a woman's touch. The flattery is nice, though.

"Come downstairs and have something to eat. I promise you they'll be fine if you're not here to care for them for an hour."

"But..."

"Now, Rabastan."

[herr_bookman]

If that's a woman's touch, Autor finds it to be a double standard. Any effort he would make to order people around would be met with scorn.

The boy nods at them both and heads downstairs, only to put the kettle on. If she can coax the wizard down from his dusty tower, then all the better, but if she can't, well.

They'll just have to... make awkward small talk in the kitchen.

Oh, hell.