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WHO: Cassian and Sanzo in one, Cassian and Amberdrake in another
WHAT: DINNER TIME and A brief material run
WHEN: Shortly after Christmas, before the shops in Fayren close.
WHERE: Everglade and Fayren
WARNINGS: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism

4 SANZO
He'd gone too long. He knew he'd over extended himself, the gift he got from Tannusen could only last so long. Wheezing, stiff, the faint sound of flutes beginning to sound in the back of his mind, tonight had to be the night. He wasn't going to risk it all again, he couldn't. He couldn't keep relying on someone else here to patch him up every time he fell into shit.

He was a grown man. He could take care of this.

As it had been for two thousand years, the hunt was on. As it had been for two thousand years, the iron dagger found its mark, the husk soulless yes, but oh how they screamed like any real living thing would. Once, perhaps, he would have shrunk away from the sound. A long time ago, he'd be frantic to silence them, clumsily slashing at vocal cords and sobbing in fear and horror-

He knew how to work now, and the screaming was quickly silenced to pathetic, wet gurgling as the cloaked man snapped ribs with ease, feeling the rippling sensation of that thing pulsing in the back of his head, feeding his meager strength. Peeling the membrane off the heart. Sinking his teeth in and silencing the husk forever.

Blood everywhere. It stank of it, but the pain in his body and his lungs faded with every bite, even if it couldn't fully sate the beast. Just another bandaid.

But for now, it would do.
4 Amberdrake

Of course, Everglade wouldn't have the materials he needed. No one would stock in the type of silver he required, and he didn't even ask any shops there. Seemed like a good way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So, wrapped up in fleece and wool, cranky and miserable and cold, headed for Fayren.

They'd have what he needed, or at least part of it. He could always return home and finish blessing it all later. He had some energy in his step now, so the little man was going to be quite the obnoxious terror in Fayren, picky and fussy with everything he picked up, viciously haggling every single object down.

"I'll only be takin' pure silver, and not anything else. I don't want any steel or nickle in any of this- What else is in this mirror? Oi! Tis a real question, does it look like I'm foolin' with ye?"

Yeah. Not a good day for Fayren.

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In direct contrast, Cassian looked like he'd been pulled right out of a black and white tin type. Black coat, white collar, white flesh and hair and gray eyes. He looked like a ghost, which might have at least been part of the reason the shop keeper seemed so thrown off.

There was a momentary glance behind him at the human rainbow that had chosen to wander into the shop, and perhaps a brief flash of interest as a bird suddenly decided to speak up-

But he was directed back to the shop keeper who had been attempting to flee the oncoming battle.

"I didn't say ye could leave yet, I'm in the middle of pickin'. Ye don't shut down what until I'm finished and that's final!" Back to scrounging, which did, at least, take him closer to Drake and the birds.

It was, partially, to see if there were any silver knick nacks here.

It was also to see if the bird was just very well trained, or very well enchanted.

Call him a busy body.

He was.

Another of the birds, this one gold and black, took off from Drake's shoulder and attempted to land on Cassian's. Boundaries? What boundaries? Bird! Garth, the bird in question, muttered something in a totally foreign language in a shockingly human-sounding voice. It was almost latin? Very similar to latin.

"Garth, don't harass him!" Amberdrake called gently after the little bird.

Close to Latin, but not close enough for Cassian to be aware of it. Which was... somewhat strange, because he was definitely around for Latin being one of the most commonly used languages. He stares at the beast for a moment, trying to process what he'd heard and translate it, feeling a swell of annoyance as nothing seemed to really stick.

But he should know this, don't insult his intelligence, bird.

"I don't like yer tone, tweety."

"I don't like yer tone!" Garth replied, in a perfect mimic of Cassian's voice. It could be a recording.

Amberdrake sighed and went to collect the tiny bird, scooping him off Cassian with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, they keep... varied company."

"Ov yilo isi?" Red, still on Drake's shoulder, asked curiously. Because why not throw in some Kaled'a'in while they were at it, which sounded an awful lot like a mishmash of assorted Romani dialects.

Edited 2016-12-28 05:20 (UTC)

"Clearly." BIRDS. Of course birds could copy him, and hearing things so damn close to what he should know, and yet not quite getting it, was possibly the most annoying thing that has happened to him all day.

"What blasted language is that? Tell him to knock it off, either say it all right or don't say it at all!"

Clearly it was one he knew, the bird was just fucking with him.

"Well, Garth said something in... I think ancient Tevene?" Amberdrake sighed, depositing the little gold and black bird next to Red. Speaking of... "And Red just spoke in Kaled'a'in."

Garth, now released from the prison of Drake's fingers, puffed his feathers out and declared -- loudly, "You shit on my tongue!"

"...Yes, that would be what the first thing meant. Thank you, Garth."

Honestly.

Okay. Fine. So it wasn't one he knew. He wasn't mad. He wasn't even mad a little, he didn't even care.

~~he cares immensely~~

"Filthy little air rat." Came the all too expected response from Cassian, snatching a silver bell up to inspect it.

"To be fair, Garth has been on five worlds, now," Amberdrake moved away a little, giving Cassian browsing space now that he'd retrieved the silly bird. "I'm surprised he doesn't switch languages halfway through a word."

Garth didn't dignify Cassian's comment with a response, instead preening himself. He was a majestic birb. Majestic. The hell do you know, runty little string-bean...

Drake distracted the little bird with a scritch, feeling Garth all but vibrating with the desire to spew ten different languages at the pale stranger. Calm down, tiny feathered beast.

Cassian is not an empath. Cassian is very, very far from an empath.

Yet, as if he knew, he glares at the tiny animal, bristling like a mangy dog presented with a cat.

"I'll slap that invisible bird smirk right off yer beak." That's right. He's starting a fight.

In a store.

With a bird.

Even with his kestra'chern mask firmly in place, Drake still frowned faintly at that. No threatening his smol birb children.

Garth just glared, and poofed his feathers again. He'd had a stare-down with Ukoku once; the bird had nerves, okay. Nerves of steel. "Ka xlia ma pe tute."

Amberdrake's eyebrows actually went up at that.

Well in comparison to Ukoku he's not that scary. He has no idea what you just said bird but he's offend. Now he almost does look like a puffed up, angry little dog, trying to resist the immediate urge to throw something.

Because you don't throw shit at someone's shitty pet bird in a store.

"Tá tú ag dul a bheith anraith éan."

Two can play at this game, BIRD.

Amberdrake just sighed, and covered Garth with a hand before the little bird could retort again.

He gave Cassian a long-suffering look. Really? Really-really? The guy was picking a fight with a feathered puffball the size of a golf ball... counting the feathers.

Why did Drake always end up hanging around such grumpy people? "My name is Amberdrake," he decided to attempt to steer things away by being extremely polite. "I apologize for Garth. Kaled'a'in messenger birds are about as smart as a human toddler, memorization skills aside."

Yes, really. It's been a bad day for Cass and he's got no patience left for disney birds, Aurora.

But hey, when the bird is covered, he does seem to visibly relax a bit. It does nothing to make him look less tired and cranky, but at least he doesn't look like he's about to launch himself at a fluffy golf ball anymore.

"Charmed." Fuckin' bird.

"Beast needs a lesson in manners he does. The frogs sure as bloody hell don't talk like that to me." Not anymore at least.

"You have talking frogs?" Well, that was a new one even to Drake!

"Aye. Enchanted the frog pond one day by accident." This bell would do. He's getting it.

"All of 'em started up croakin' English and their spawn have carried on ever since."

"That's quite the accident," Amberdrake sounded impressed, eyebrows raising again. "Are you a mage of some sort?"

"I suppose you could say it's a hobby." One he was stupidly good at. Inspecting some stray pieces of silverware now, knocking a few of them on the table and scratching at the surface with a thumbnail.

"I'm a priest by trade."

Of course he was a priest. Of course. Amberdrake wasn't even surprised, honestly.

"Yet you still managed to accidentally modify frogs... carrying on through generations after? That's quite the hobby."

Drake watched Cassian pick at the cutlery, and the math wasn't hard to add up after seeing him pick out that bell. "You're looking for silver?"

"Well it was quite the spell, considerin' it was supposed to be for the cat." So a weird cross of mad scientist and magician. That's always a good combo.

Three forks and a spoon, the knife apparently didn't meet his standards and was left behind.

"Mammals are a bit harder to properly enchant than amphibians, bigger brains and more defenses." As for his shopping list.

"Aye. Ran out. Can't make good enough shot without them."

This day keeps getting better.

Amberdrake tipped his head to one side at the explanation involving a cat, curious. One of the bells in his hair was shifted in the motion, chiming softly.

"Shot?"

Did all other-world priests have guns? Drake was starting to think the answer was 'yes'.

Not that the Star-Eyed's priests wouldn't pack heat too, if guns existed on Amberdrake's world. It wasn't like the Goddess would have a problem with it!

"Aye, buckshot mostly. Lead won't do against unholy beasts, ye have to have blessed silver and nothin' else will do." A cup was snagged now, treated to the same gentle tapping and scratching as the silverware.

"Melt it down and shape it right and ye get what ye need. I've found buckshot tends to get the job done better. Not as good a range as a pistol or a proper assault rifle but..." Cup was getting bought too.

"I'm a bit old fashioned."

Amberdrake actually had a gun on him, hidden away. A tiny revolver, very similar to Sanzo's... and it was a banishing gun, as well, thanks to weeks of the priest's work on it. Just to have that extra punch if he found himself face to face with, say, Kain of Coorhagen again.

"I've become passingly familiar with guns, but they don't exist on my world. What is buckshot?" Surely it wasn't just something for shooting deer; that seemed a bit needlessly specific.

"Ever hear of a frag grenade?" Which was another odd topic to bring up. But this talk of weapons seems to have soothed his ire somewhat, the man bringing his find to the counter for buying.

"Tis... somewhat like that. A shot gun shell, buckshot, works by fragmenting the bullet into pieces, widening the cone of damage, but decreasing the exact range of the bullet. Close enough ye can do some terrible damage to squishy targets. Close enough ye can literally blow a man's face clean off."

Amberdrake hadn't heard of a frag grenade, no, but the following explanation cleared that up. There were magical artifacts that had done similar damage in the War, albeit not by design.

He followed Cassian just enough to stay in conversation range, scritching Garth now instead of merely covering him. The little gold and black puffball had settled down in the dark of Drake's cupped palm, and was drowsing now, tucked up against Red. So cute.

"So you have a gun that fires something like that, and you use silver for the ammunition? I didn't realize you could change out what kind of metal went into a bullet," and he smiled, a bit, "though my understanding of them is rudimentary, at best."

"Tis a bit of a balancing act with the metal. If the bullet is pure silver, it won't do the damage ye need. Not enough silver, and ye get the same problem, see. Just in a different flavor." His items bagged properly, he's actually almost looking cheerful now.

"I take mostly pure silver home and tinker with it a bit so it will survive long enough to hit the target. Humans have used plenty of different material for bullets. For instance, they were once made of lead. Tis where the expression 'fill them full of lead' came from. Now a days, most bullets are steel or some mixture of iron."