fic: Frost Fair (4/5)
Feb. 27th, 2011 01:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Frost Fair (4/5)
Day/Theme: February 20 [2011]: Tiny little erosions.
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren eventual, Pelleas/Micaiah
Summary: Soren, the head CEO of Nevassa Corp, is entirely tired of his mother's nagging, and so
sets out to hire a date for the holidays and his brother's upcoming wedding. After several disastrous interviews, he comes across Ike who thought it was a bodyguard job and really needs the money.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 5310
Author's note: Life Happened so this was a little delayed. I hope to have chapter five by March, barring that life doesn't roundhouse kick me again. Ammie asked, and so she shall receive!
Amazingly, Ike survived the night in boxers and a thin t-shirt without even the loss of any limbs or digits in the process. He walked out–without socks, no less–and dared to test the showers in the early morning when the water heater was barely functional. There was a possibility Ike hadn't even used hot water, from how much was left by the time he got to it.
Soren wasn't sure if he was very brave, very stupid, or both. Whichever, it was almost admirable, in a rash way.
Of course, he had been awake and had been checking stock prices and notes from his publicist. Soren had perfected the ways of keeping to his rooms when he wanted to avoid interaction with other human beings, especially his family. He was in his pre-coffee haze, and stepped out of the curtains to find his fireplace had been stoked, and there was black coffee and a croissant waiting for him.
It almost made his morning passable when he stepped out into the cold and had to deal with people, none of who he particularly wanted to know, let alone be related to without nearly enough coffee in his system.
*
Soon enough, the rest of Micaiah's bridesmaids arrived. It was in fact, not just maids, but several male members of her 'army' which she included among them, adding flowers to their respective hair, and beards to complete the effect.
Three friends of hers were going through the last dress checks. There were two red haired girls, and one with light purple. On a second glance, he realized he'd seen her before. At his interviews, no less.
"You're...." She thought hard and tapped her lip, thoughtfully. "That one person who was hiring at that one place."
Soren froze. This could put a damper on all his plans. If it came out that he'd hired Ike..well, it might not ruin the wedding, per se, but it would bring up an inevitable family fight which would best be avoided.
"She was at one of your interviews?" Micaiah asked.
"Yes. The interview was at a restaurant, with a buffet....the food was so good, and they let me have seconds!"
"An interview in a restaurant? How strange," Micaiah said. She looked thoughtfully at him, in a way that made Soren feel as if she was reading him. He of course, didn't go for the fortune telling, and other supernatural superstitions, but he did have to admit there was something rather unnerving about her.
"It was a new technique I was trying for a specific position," Soren said.
The first moment he got to himself, he made a call to ensure the buffet was stocked and ready to be refilled at any moment, and then to hire two guards to watch the cake.
After that he kept an eye on her, lest her memory improve. As of yet, the only thing he'd heard from her was related to food, though if she suddenly remembered, things could get troublesome. Soren was in fact, so caught up in thinking of possible exit strategies should things come to light, that he was caught off guard when Ike approached, and rested his hand on Soren's shoulder.
"Something the matter?" Ike asked.
"She was one of the interviews," Soren said in an undertone. He nodded towards Ilyana. "There's a chance she saw you."
"—Soren, Soren, where is that boy? Oh there he is–!"
Almedha always drew attention. Soren sighed, knowing he would be called soon enough for some thing or another. Before he could get up, Ike leaned in, his back to them. He took Soren's face in his hands, and the protest died on Soren's lips. Their lips never touched, as it was nothing more than a forehead brush, but to everyone else on the other side, it looked genuine. His breath was warm against him, his hands rough and yet it wasn't a detractor. It was alluring, even. Though he wanted to shake the cobwebs out of his head just for having alluring appearing in a mental description of Ike without the disclaimer of the attraction being perpetuated by other people.
It wasn't even a kiss, and yet his heart was beating, and he probably looked like a fool there, stunned with his lips slightly parted, his face slightly flushed. Ike let his hands drop to his sides, but he didn't look back at the guests, and probably let them assume that he was looking on adoringly.
"I thought we agreed we were one of those 'no public displays of affection' couples," Soren said in an undertone.
"You save me from crazy stalkers, I save you from possible discovery," Ike said.
Of course. If she saw Ike there, Soren would simply explain it away as Ike being there to visit him. No one would question that. Soren got up, and went to see what his family wanted him for now. He didn't look back to see if Ike might be watching him. He wouldn't let that thought cross his mind.
*
The biggest rule of a wedding was the bride's whims were law. If the bride wanted them to dress up in hideous bridesmaid gowns, the bridesmaids did it. If the bride wanted a group meditation to create bonds and soothe the savage energies of the place, then she got it. Frankly, Soren couldn't help but think he would've preferred the former. As long as he wasn't wearing them, that was.
The beat was exotic played from Sothe's mp3 player which usually was tuned into screamo. Via some attachment to a speaker, some device—Soren was never lacking in devices. And now Micaiah wanted them to get in touch with their inner selves or inner children, or maybe the selves of their inner children in a transcendental and peaceful way to join oneselves with the universe–at one point Soren tuned out, so the rest was simply reassembled with buzz words. He didn't think he was missing much. Ike was beside him, looking about as bored and skeptical with it all as he did.
"Check it out, I can twist myself into a pretzel!" Tormod displayed this, as he twisted himself up. As if to prove a point, Sothe put his legs behind his head.
"Whoa, you're flexible...." Tormod said.
Sothe smirked.
Pelleas was failing at the stretching and bending, but failing in a sincere way that still earned him praise from Micaiah. He lit up at the kind words. Soren was bent down, forced into a strange position, and muttering a steady stream of curses.
This was all supposedly to get them in a better state of oneness with the universe. Soren didn't particularly like the universe, and certainly didn't want to 'become one with it'–especially if the dating process would be like this. He let out another stream of curses under his breath as they shifted positions to Micaiah's encouragement.
"Didn't think you could swear like that," Ike said under his breath.
"Well, I'm just full of surprises," Soren muttered back.
He lasted five more minutes of this travesty before he got up and stalked off towards the kitchen. If he was going to make it through the day, he was going to need more coffee.
*
Kyza and Ranulf had been kept by certain consulting reasons unrelated to his company, though Soren did suspect that somewhere in a glitter filled bar, Kyza was wearing nothing but a thong and a set of beads, and that Ranulf was taking bodyshots off of his glittery abs. This was generally what he assumed Kyza and Ranulf were doing whenever they weren't around. That and unspeakable things involving storage closets and post-it notes. So it was that the last minute task of finalizing the menus that was laid at Soren's feet. He spent a good portion of an hour trying to get the kinks worked out of his caterers, and of course, double-checking the completion of the cake.
"This is the plans for the menus," Soren said. He handed out the notes, instead of reading them off. Almedha looked on with pride.
"You're so capable. Look at you, running the business all by yourself," Almedha cooed. She reached out, her long fingernails looking like claws as she squeezed his cheeks.
"Mother, please," Soren said. "I've been running it since I was seventeen. I think by now I'd be capable."
Micaiah bit her lip as she looked over the menu. "Meat?" Micaiah said She looked vaguely nauseous. "I don't eat meat any longer."
"But you're a Daein citizen," Pelleas said. "You know the kind of diet we have here..."
"But I gave it up...I couldn't bear hurting my fellow creatures anymore," she said. "It's possible, and now I encourage it. I believe it opens us up to a better, more peaceful existence with our fellow beings on this planet."
"Then you can eat the garnish," Soren said.
"Soren! If..if she doesn't want meat, then she doesn't have to," Pelleas said. He stood a little taller, and tried to look defiant, but even at that he looked uncertain.
He stroked her arm comfortingly. "Really, he's not so bad, just a bit cranky..."
Soren rolled his eyes. "If she didn't want meat, then she should've voiced concern earlier. As it is now, there's mere days until the wedding, and no time to overhaul things."
"But can't we make some last minute changes? I mean, she's the bride. It should be her day. If she wants salads and a completely vegan cake, then she should have it," Pelleas said. He looked to her for assurance. "Right...dear?"
"I believe strongly on this issue," she said. "I would feel much more at peace if I knew innocent animals weren't being slaughtered for my sake."
Soren closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. Already his cheek was twitching.
"I'll see if we can't get an alternate vegan order set for her," Soren said.
Pelleas smiled bright, but Soren put his hand to halt any gratitude or hugs that might ensue.
Never mind that most Daein caterers laughed in your face if you asked for vegan specialities, and insinuated that you lacked manliness, and that they did 'the deed' with your mother, sister and lover, regardless of whether you actually had any of those. It was too late to order in an independent caterer from Begnion at this rate. They'd all be booked up for snooty senate parties. He was in charge of aspects of the wedding, and thus he would make sure there were salads if he had to toss them himself.
"However, at this time, I believe it would only be an option, not the whole menu," Soren said. "If you wished to make it a whole menu, you should've voiced it earlier."
"That is acceptable," Micaiah said. She looked transcendent and serene, and Pelleas looked like he might keel over just from sheer love of her. Soren turned, as if he had some very important text from his cell phone, and used this opportunity to roll his eyes and mutter a dozen curses or more.
"If you'll excuse me," Soren said. He didn't wait for a reply. He stalked off to his chambers. He needed a quiet, stupidity-free zone for a while to destress, and possibly some pillows to assault. That was, if he had the time.
*
Ranulf conveniently came after the menu situation had been resolved. It just reiterated the simple fact that Soren had always known: the only one he was ever going to be able to rely on was himself.
Ranulf reached out for a restrained hug and shoulder pat, and then clapped Ike on the shoulder harder than intended.
"How are you holding up in the lair of the dragon?" Ranulf asked.
"Pretty well, I guess," Ike said.
"Have you shown him yet?" Ranulf asked, without even making a greeting.
"I took him to the Frost Fair, if that's what you mean–"
"Noooo, I mean the cool stuff hidden in the basement," Ranulf said.
"If by 'cool stuff' you mean bodies and implements of torture—"
"No, not that. Though someone would think that was cool, probably," Ranulf said.
"My father was among them," Soren said.
"Yes, yes, he was quite a character. But I mean the fields and stuff!"
"Ah. That. No, I haven't the chance, given the entire revamping of the menu that the bride requested and the transcendental meditation I was subjected to." His lip curled in disgust.
"Yeah, how dare her. She sounds like a real Bridezilla," Ranulf said.
Soren rolled his eyes, but made no response to this.
"Since the ground is frozen over for most of the year, my father decided to fight against the forces of nature, if you will," Soren said.
It was impossible to not notice the other towering buildings near the Keep, though the gothic structure, history and rumors of the Keep tended to draw the eye away. Now, Soren lead the rest of them down through one of the frost covered courtyards to a circular building.
Inside, much to the guest's awe, and Soren's boredom, were a variety of large rooms, each fitted for a particular sport. Ashnard was picky in his sports, and snubbed the less violet sorts such as basketball, for the contact sports such as Hockey, Football and fights to the death.
"Hey, mr groom-to-be, aren't you going to toss the old pigskin around?" Ranulf asked.
"Me?" Pelleas said. He looked around, as if he might be mistaken, and there would be another person who he was referring to.
"Is anyone else getting married here?" Ranulf said.
"Uh, no. I don't think, unless Soren has another secret he's keeping from us," Pelleas said.
Ranulf grinned at Soren. "Well, do you?"
"No. Not that it is any of your concern," Soren said.
"Considering I'd be buying the tuxes, I think it'd be a concern," Ranulf said.
"We wouldn't do the showy thing," Ike said. "Just a small thing. Tuxes probably wouldn't even be needed. It wouldn't really be anyone else's business. Family, a few friends, but that's it."
Soren looked to Ike, more than a little surprised. Ike was playing this far better than expected, though Soren would've answered that they were far too new to even think of marriage.
Soren cleared his throat. "Of course, things would have to be discussed. But as it is...I believe there was a game to play."
"Oh yeah, we should divide up the teams," Ike said. "I'll take Pelleas."
Pelleas had not been picked to play with a lot of sports games. He was always passed over. He looked bright, hopeful, and a little unbelieving at the news. "Y-you really want to pick me?"
"Sure," Ike said.
"Me and Kyza can be Team Gallia. You can be Team Daein, and Ike gets to be an honorary part via dating Soren."
"But Soren..." Pelleas began.
"Will not be playing," Soren said.
"He'll play ref," Ike said.
Soren did know things about football. He had studied it thoroughly in the few times he had tried to keep up with his father before he'd just given up altogether on ever having anything but a dysfunctional relationship with his family.
"All right, let's get this party started!" Ranulf said.
The game that followed resembled a game of keepaway, though through no malice on Ranulf and Ike's part. They were simply taller, stronger and more skilled. Ike carried most of Team Daein while Pelleas looked horribly dismayed and confused. Team Gallia had fabulous touchdown dance, and an advantage given Kyza actually had played football in school.
It didn't resemble any game of football Soren had ever analyzed. It didn't even resemble the games of touch or flag football which Soren never took part in. He had no clue how to referee a game where all the players seemed either completely ignorant to the rules, or simply defying them for some unknown reason. Though, he thought there really was only one choice. When in doubt, pick Ike. It would help the act, and to be fair, he liked Ike more than any of the others, who might do showy displays of affection or teasing at being his given choice.
Pelleas would run one way, lifting his arms so he looked more like the goalpost than anything. If anything, it was a test of wills between Kyza and Ike while Ranulf might as well have been an honorary cheerleader and commenter while Pelleas looked dismayed and lost. The ball went around, changing hands. Ike cradled the ball against him and run towards the edge. One unfortunate time, Pelleas got it. He looked at it in surprise as Kyza hit him in a tackle.
"You okay down there?" Ike asked.
"I...I...let me just catch my breath," Pelleas said.
"You'll be ok," Ranulf said. He bent, and patted Pelleas on the shoulder. "Not bad a bad play."
It was an obvious lie, but Pelleas seemed momentarily comforted.
"Who won?" Ranulf asked. He looked up
"Considering that you defied all laws of all known games of football, no one."
"Come on, somebody had to win," Ranulf said.
"Fine," Soren said. "Ike won."
"Biased, much?" Kyza said.
"Well, he did bribe the ref, if you know what I mean..." Ranulf said. He winked to Kyza, and Kyza chuckled.
"Oh that he did," Kyza said.
Soren cleared his throat. "If you keep it up, you're going to miss the Winged Bowl."
Ike seemed to come alert. He took Pelleas' hand and all but dragged him up, with seeming no effort on his part. After he had pulled him up, Pelleas looked surprised enough to almost keel over again, but Ranulf steadied him.
Ike's motivations were so easy to take advantage of.
But Soren found that he could be quite unpredictable. Instead of simply leaving, he took Soren's arm and guided him along.
"Ike," Soren said.
Ike looked back. "Yeah?"
"We always watch games together. Remember? Since the first date was in a sports bar."
Soren wondered if this wasn't revenge of some sort, though he couldn't think of for what. Still, he hadn't foreseen the amount of backstory Ike would put into this.
"That's sweet," Pelleas offered. "I mean, I didn't think you would be the anniversary keeping type...."
"I'm not. That's his thing," Soren said.
*
They all gathered around the giant flatscreen in the den, topped by dragon skulls and claws and an entertainment system made from barbed wire and oak. No one could say that Ashnard didn't watch his football games in style.
Ranulf picked up the snacks. Cheetoes, popcorn, beer, beef jerky, among other things. There's enough food to food a Gallian army, which means it will probably last a few hours between the three of them. Right away, Ike puts his arm over Soren's shoulders. Keeping up the facade, Soren curls close into Ike head to his chest, as if they did this regularly. It isn't a bad position, he supposes. He isn't touchy by nature, but it's preferable than having to have his mother going into one of her fits. Soren was barely tuning into the game as it was. Kyza, Ranulf and Ike were pumped. Pelleas took to the game, possibly in hope there wouldn't be a bachelor party after all. Soren knew he had quite a few reservations towards that custom, especially in regards to whether Micaiah would be secretly angry at him the whole time, or if even worse, she might have a female equivalent of her own and run off with the stripper. Ranulf had offered to find gay strippers for her, but that hadn't really comforted Pelleas on the matter.
He mentally spent the time trying to go over the speech. He's been subjected to plenty of games, so much that he can even feign interest while thinking of other things, and throw enough sports buzz words to sound as if he actually gave a damn about this inane sport.
He left by the half-time show, and manufactured a reasonable enough emergency to excuse his absence. Forty-five minutes of staring at his laptop screen, he wasn't any closer to making headway on the best man's speech.
Eventually he gave up, and came down to the lower den. The Winged Bowl was just winding down and considering Ike and Ranulf's good spirits, it must have been a victory for whatever teams they favored. Pelleas had his hands in his lap, looking awkward. He must've cheered when the wrong team scored again. Lack of sports skills was one of their father's biggest issues with them. That and lack of willingness and ability to tear apart their enemies with their bare hands. Soren had at least studied the basics (on both fronts), and could hold down a conversation, despite his apathy, but Pelleas always remained clueless in these matters, no matter how he tried. He was clueless in a lot of things, such as which side to take when it came to his dear mother and soon-to-be wife.
As it was, Micaiah and Almedha already were showing signs of not getting along. Micaiah wanted world peace and understanding; Almedha wanted to peons to stay in their place. She had snubbed her, and their family by refusing to wear the royal queen's cloak, made with fur, or the new fur-lined leather boots she'd offered her, or to attend the traditional pig slaughter that made up the beginning of the Frost Fair, and would tide the families over until after the new year.
It was after the show was over, and in their connected rooms while Ike changed out of his shirt that was now filled with salsa and cheeto stains that Ike voiced the same thoughts Soren had been thinking.
"Somehow, I think their relationship is going to be the sort of thing bad mother-in-law jokes are made of," Ike said.
"Just be glad mother skipped the family tradition of drinking from the chalice," Soren said.
"The chalice? That doesn't sound too bad, or is Micaiah anti-wine now, too?"
"The chalice my father carved from skull of one of his favorite enemies?" Soren said.
"Forget I asked," Ike said.
*
Ranulf was hardly finished at any rate. After the game, instead of actual family time, or work on the many things which were in dire need of being checked a millionth time over, Ranulf decided that their bro time was not quite finished. Pelleas retired, citing an actual need to spend time with his fiancé, but Ike and Soren were not quite so lucky.
The light down in the basements was dim, and the air always smelled faintly musty. The stairs were made of stone, but could get slick and near untraversable in this time of the year. Far be it from fix the stairs, Ashnard had made them to up the challenge and amusement factor. More than once to add to the game, he'd push the person down them if the stairs didn't do the job for him. All of them made it down this time, however. Ranulf had reached it first, citing something about feline grace. Kyza was elsewhere, the only one of them at the moment to do actual work.
"You know, you never told me about the pool table before. Kyza had to let me know when he was playing hide and seek with me. Any chance there's a minibar down here too?" Ranulf said.
"There's an entire wine cellar down here," Soren said.
Soren of course knew what the hide and seek was a metaphor for. He managed to keep his disapproving glares to himself, but just barely, and only because he had to hold only Ike in front of him, so he wouldn't fall down headfirst to the stones and join every other person who had died on these stairs.
"Nice," Ranulf said. "The cues aren't made from the bones of his enemies, are they?" Ranulf looked close at one, and gave it a sniff.
"They're just regular cues," Soren said.
Ike and Ranulf readied their cues for a game, passing light conversation which Soren wasn't paying attention to. Soren sat at the sole chair in the room, which had seen better days. The leather was cracked, the wood had more than a few scratch marks and suspicious dark stains. Soren crossed his legs, and folded his hands on his lap.
"I'd ask you to play, but I know you'll just excuse out and maybe insult my mother in the process," Ranulf said.
"Hardly," Soren said. "Your father, however..."
"My father was a total tomcat," Ranulf said with a grin.
"Ike will just have to win in my stead," Soren said.
"I'll do my best," Ike said.
Soren leaned back, barely watching. He was a very competent person, in both academics and administrative positions. It was only actually interacting with people that his incompetence came to light. Ike leaned over and made the first strike, knocking the balls free from the triangle. He was wearing a black t-shirt of Ranulf's which was tight on him, and not simply because of the size difference between them. Soren couldn't help but see that he was now the envy of most of the single girls, and a few of the taken ones as well—to say nothing of some of the men, such as Kyza, who leaned that way. Even Soren, who had been a barren wasteland when it came to romance, had to admit that Ike was a nice find for matters such as this. There was something charming about his good nature, his hero-like persona which made him likable and his faults of bluntness and lack of manners forgivable. Unlike Ranulf, his charm wasn't structured to make him get away with as much as possible. Soren didn't think Ike had a single bit of artifice in his body, so much so that this job must be stretching him to his limits. Soren had seen no history of acting in his resume, and doubted he'd even made it into a school play, all things considered. Still, he was proving quite competent in this farce.
He might pay him extra, just for that. The foreclosure on his family home had already been stayed, but a little bonus for never lapsing in character and checking out a woman's low neckline, even when it was shoved in his face wouldn't be out of line.
He'd almost regret not having him around for other family gatherings, if only because it lessened the older women who wanted to get their claws into his family fortune via their daughters, nieces or cousins.
Love could have its uses after all.
*
"He plays a mean game of pool," Ike said as they shuffled out into the streets past the gates of the Keep.
"For a moment there, I thought you'd win," Soren replied.
"Me too," Ike said. "But Ranulf's a poolshark. Or maybe just a cheat."
"A cheat," Soren said. "I'm sure I can find plenty of reliable sources for that one."
"Probably," Ike said.
Technically, the house was filled with all kinds of beer, but as it was, his family had him on edge, and a half hour's respite was worth the walk in the cold. They walked out of the gates without being questioned by the gatekeeper, and walked into Nevassa. Soren had offered to summon Bryce to drive them, but Ike had turned down the idea. Besides, the walk wasn't too long, so Soren didn't push the issue. The place they were headed was one of the worse parts of town. Soren wouldn't have been out here alone, but he didn't think anyone would try and confront them with Ike around. Either way, he kept his hood up and his gaze averted from the people at the corners. Ike's expression hardened at the sight of them, his jaw set. Ike reached into his pockets and left gald at every filthy street kid or vagrant he saw, whether they were awake, or sleeping clutching a bottle. Some cursed him, others looked wary, while others looked up with almost a sense of awe.
"They'll just go waste it," Soren said. "The Beorc race is fundamentally selfish. Even if it doesn't get automatically wasted on alcohol, it'll probably be stolen from them before the night is over."
"I do what I can," Ike said.
"They'll slit each other's throats to get the slightest bit ahead. This isn't Crimea with its morals and idealism. It'd do you good to remember that."
Ike didn't reply, and they walked in silence all the long way back to the Keep.
*
He and Ike hadn't talked since the last alcohol run. They'd walked home without another word, and gone to separate sides of the house. Soren sifted through his emails in a quiet corner. There were always quiet nooks and places to get lost in the Keep. His publicist had kept him informed of the news. There'd been another protest of late, some ten death threats, and another investigative journalist trying to make his name by exposing some other atrocity his father had committed. All tedious and routine stuff, that nonetheless required his ladylike, quiet publicist to come and address the masses.
His publicist thought the best of everyone. Quite so, given her history of fiances. First a corrupt senator who met his end, and second a drunken gambler. It was only by Ranulf's 'consulting' that he knew this (though more often than not it resembled gossip).
"It's come again, Mr. Nevassa, sir," she said apologetically. "The letters. They're accusing you of being branded, and threatening to reveal it to the world."
Soren closed his eyes, his hand tightening on the phone. Old prejudices lingered long in Daein. Crimea was more accepting, but only at the veneer. It was fashionable to be accepting in public, but keep the hate hidden behind empty words of love and peace.
"Mr. Nevassa? Should I prepare an official statement—"
"No," Soren said. "Next time, only call if you have something other than rumors that belong in a tabloid."
"Yes, Mr Nevassa," she said apologetically. He closed the phone without bothering with a goodbye.
His reception had been spotty at best. The snow had fallen heavily all day, and now, as the phone rung again. He opened the phone without checking the readout, it crackled into static.
Soren swore under his breath. He couldn't get a good connection here. He stepped outside for a moment, the waiters barely taking notice as he walked by. He wasn't looking forward to awkwardly sitting by his paid date after their disagreement earlier, and going through the motions of being a happy couple during the rehearsal.
"What is it now?" Soren said
"You will pay for the crimes of your family," came the hiss through the crackle of static.
Soren rolled his eyes. "You'll have to be more creative than that, considering this is the thirtieth death threat I've received this week."
The phone connection went dead, and Soren shook his head. A wasted trip outside into the cold. He turned and headed back. He heard the crunching of snow behind him, another hiss. He turned to see a shadowed shape coming closer.
"More creative? How about this, human! This is for the members of my race you have slaughtered!"
The laguz pounced, and he slammed against the wall hard enough to draw blood. There was a snapping sound, the phone fell into a snowbank as Soren slumped against the wall, his vision darkening until he was only aware of the predator which had closed in on him.
Day/Theme: February 20 [2011]: Tiny little erosions.
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren eventual, Pelleas/Micaiah
Summary: Soren, the head CEO of Nevassa Corp, is entirely tired of his mother's nagging, and so
sets out to hire a date for the holidays and his brother's upcoming wedding. After several disastrous interviews, he comes across Ike who thought it was a bodyguard job and really needs the money.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 5310
Author's note: Life Happened so this was a little delayed. I hope to have chapter five by March, barring that life doesn't roundhouse kick me again. Ammie asked, and so she shall receive!
Amazingly, Ike survived the night in boxers and a thin t-shirt without even the loss of any limbs or digits in the process. He walked out–without socks, no less–and dared to test the showers in the early morning when the water heater was barely functional. There was a possibility Ike hadn't even used hot water, from how much was left by the time he got to it.
Soren wasn't sure if he was very brave, very stupid, or both. Whichever, it was almost admirable, in a rash way.
Of course, he had been awake and had been checking stock prices and notes from his publicist. Soren had perfected the ways of keeping to his rooms when he wanted to avoid interaction with other human beings, especially his family. He was in his pre-coffee haze, and stepped out of the curtains to find his fireplace had been stoked, and there was black coffee and a croissant waiting for him.
It almost made his morning passable when he stepped out into the cold and had to deal with people, none of who he particularly wanted to know, let alone be related to without nearly enough coffee in his system.
*
Soon enough, the rest of Micaiah's bridesmaids arrived. It was in fact, not just maids, but several male members of her 'army' which she included among them, adding flowers to their respective hair, and beards to complete the effect.
Three friends of hers were going through the last dress checks. There were two red haired girls, and one with light purple. On a second glance, he realized he'd seen her before. At his interviews, no less.
"You're...." She thought hard and tapped her lip, thoughtfully. "That one person who was hiring at that one place."
Soren froze. This could put a damper on all his plans. If it came out that he'd hired Ike..well, it might not ruin the wedding, per se, but it would bring up an inevitable family fight which would best be avoided.
"She was at one of your interviews?" Micaiah asked.
"Yes. The interview was at a restaurant, with a buffet....the food was so good, and they let me have seconds!"
"An interview in a restaurant? How strange," Micaiah said. She looked thoughtfully at him, in a way that made Soren feel as if she was reading him. He of course, didn't go for the fortune telling, and other supernatural superstitions, but he did have to admit there was something rather unnerving about her.
"It was a new technique I was trying for a specific position," Soren said.
The first moment he got to himself, he made a call to ensure the buffet was stocked and ready to be refilled at any moment, and then to hire two guards to watch the cake.
After that he kept an eye on her, lest her memory improve. As of yet, the only thing he'd heard from her was related to food, though if she suddenly remembered, things could get troublesome. Soren was in fact, so caught up in thinking of possible exit strategies should things come to light, that he was caught off guard when Ike approached, and rested his hand on Soren's shoulder.
"Something the matter?" Ike asked.
"She was one of the interviews," Soren said in an undertone. He nodded towards Ilyana. "There's a chance she saw you."
"—Soren, Soren, where is that boy? Oh there he is–!"
Almedha always drew attention. Soren sighed, knowing he would be called soon enough for some thing or another. Before he could get up, Ike leaned in, his back to them. He took Soren's face in his hands, and the protest died on Soren's lips. Their lips never touched, as it was nothing more than a forehead brush, but to everyone else on the other side, it looked genuine. His breath was warm against him, his hands rough and yet it wasn't a detractor. It was alluring, even. Though he wanted to shake the cobwebs out of his head just for having alluring appearing in a mental description of Ike without the disclaimer of the attraction being perpetuated by other people.
It wasn't even a kiss, and yet his heart was beating, and he probably looked like a fool there, stunned with his lips slightly parted, his face slightly flushed. Ike let his hands drop to his sides, but he didn't look back at the guests, and probably let them assume that he was looking on adoringly.
"I thought we agreed we were one of those 'no public displays of affection' couples," Soren said in an undertone.
"You save me from crazy stalkers, I save you from possible discovery," Ike said.
Of course. If she saw Ike there, Soren would simply explain it away as Ike being there to visit him. No one would question that. Soren got up, and went to see what his family wanted him for now. He didn't look back to see if Ike might be watching him. He wouldn't let that thought cross his mind.
*
The biggest rule of a wedding was the bride's whims were law. If the bride wanted them to dress up in hideous bridesmaid gowns, the bridesmaids did it. If the bride wanted a group meditation to create bonds and soothe the savage energies of the place, then she got it. Frankly, Soren couldn't help but think he would've preferred the former. As long as he wasn't wearing them, that was.
The beat was exotic played from Sothe's mp3 player which usually was tuned into screamo. Via some attachment to a speaker, some device—Soren was never lacking in devices. And now Micaiah wanted them to get in touch with their inner selves or inner children, or maybe the selves of their inner children in a transcendental and peaceful way to join oneselves with the universe–at one point Soren tuned out, so the rest was simply reassembled with buzz words. He didn't think he was missing much. Ike was beside him, looking about as bored and skeptical with it all as he did.
"Check it out, I can twist myself into a pretzel!" Tormod displayed this, as he twisted himself up. As if to prove a point, Sothe put his legs behind his head.
"Whoa, you're flexible...." Tormod said.
Sothe smirked.
Pelleas was failing at the stretching and bending, but failing in a sincere way that still earned him praise from Micaiah. He lit up at the kind words. Soren was bent down, forced into a strange position, and muttering a steady stream of curses.
This was all supposedly to get them in a better state of oneness with the universe. Soren didn't particularly like the universe, and certainly didn't want to 'become one with it'–especially if the dating process would be like this. He let out another stream of curses under his breath as they shifted positions to Micaiah's encouragement.
"Didn't think you could swear like that," Ike said under his breath.
"Well, I'm just full of surprises," Soren muttered back.
He lasted five more minutes of this travesty before he got up and stalked off towards the kitchen. If he was going to make it through the day, he was going to need more coffee.
*
Kyza and Ranulf had been kept by certain consulting reasons unrelated to his company, though Soren did suspect that somewhere in a glitter filled bar, Kyza was wearing nothing but a thong and a set of beads, and that Ranulf was taking bodyshots off of his glittery abs. This was generally what he assumed Kyza and Ranulf were doing whenever they weren't around. That and unspeakable things involving storage closets and post-it notes. So it was that the last minute task of finalizing the menus that was laid at Soren's feet. He spent a good portion of an hour trying to get the kinks worked out of his caterers, and of course, double-checking the completion of the cake.
"This is the plans for the menus," Soren said. He handed out the notes, instead of reading them off. Almedha looked on with pride.
"You're so capable. Look at you, running the business all by yourself," Almedha cooed. She reached out, her long fingernails looking like claws as she squeezed his cheeks.
"Mother, please," Soren said. "I've been running it since I was seventeen. I think by now I'd be capable."
Micaiah bit her lip as she looked over the menu. "Meat?" Micaiah said She looked vaguely nauseous. "I don't eat meat any longer."
"But you're a Daein citizen," Pelleas said. "You know the kind of diet we have here..."
"But I gave it up...I couldn't bear hurting my fellow creatures anymore," she said. "It's possible, and now I encourage it. I believe it opens us up to a better, more peaceful existence with our fellow beings on this planet."
"Then you can eat the garnish," Soren said.
"Soren! If..if she doesn't want meat, then she doesn't have to," Pelleas said. He stood a little taller, and tried to look defiant, but even at that he looked uncertain.
He stroked her arm comfortingly. "Really, he's not so bad, just a bit cranky..."
Soren rolled his eyes. "If she didn't want meat, then she should've voiced concern earlier. As it is now, there's mere days until the wedding, and no time to overhaul things."
"But can't we make some last minute changes? I mean, she's the bride. It should be her day. If she wants salads and a completely vegan cake, then she should have it," Pelleas said. He looked to her for assurance. "Right...dear?"
"I believe strongly on this issue," she said. "I would feel much more at peace if I knew innocent animals weren't being slaughtered for my sake."
Soren closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. Already his cheek was twitching.
"I'll see if we can't get an alternate vegan order set for her," Soren said.
Pelleas smiled bright, but Soren put his hand to halt any gratitude or hugs that might ensue.
Never mind that most Daein caterers laughed in your face if you asked for vegan specialities, and insinuated that you lacked manliness, and that they did 'the deed' with your mother, sister and lover, regardless of whether you actually had any of those. It was too late to order in an independent caterer from Begnion at this rate. They'd all be booked up for snooty senate parties. He was in charge of aspects of the wedding, and thus he would make sure there were salads if he had to toss them himself.
"However, at this time, I believe it would only be an option, not the whole menu," Soren said. "If you wished to make it a whole menu, you should've voiced it earlier."
"That is acceptable," Micaiah said. She looked transcendent and serene, and Pelleas looked like he might keel over just from sheer love of her. Soren turned, as if he had some very important text from his cell phone, and used this opportunity to roll his eyes and mutter a dozen curses or more.
"If you'll excuse me," Soren said. He didn't wait for a reply. He stalked off to his chambers. He needed a quiet, stupidity-free zone for a while to destress, and possibly some pillows to assault. That was, if he had the time.
*
Ranulf conveniently came after the menu situation had been resolved. It just reiterated the simple fact that Soren had always known: the only one he was ever going to be able to rely on was himself.
Ranulf reached out for a restrained hug and shoulder pat, and then clapped Ike on the shoulder harder than intended.
"How are you holding up in the lair of the dragon?" Ranulf asked.
"Pretty well, I guess," Ike said.
"Have you shown him yet?" Ranulf asked, without even making a greeting.
"I took him to the Frost Fair, if that's what you mean–"
"Noooo, I mean the cool stuff hidden in the basement," Ranulf said.
"If by 'cool stuff' you mean bodies and implements of torture—"
"No, not that. Though someone would think that was cool, probably," Ranulf said.
"My father was among them," Soren said.
"Yes, yes, he was quite a character. But I mean the fields and stuff!"
"Ah. That. No, I haven't the chance, given the entire revamping of the menu that the bride requested and the transcendental meditation I was subjected to." His lip curled in disgust.
"Yeah, how dare her. She sounds like a real Bridezilla," Ranulf said.
Soren rolled his eyes, but made no response to this.
"Since the ground is frozen over for most of the year, my father decided to fight against the forces of nature, if you will," Soren said.
It was impossible to not notice the other towering buildings near the Keep, though the gothic structure, history and rumors of the Keep tended to draw the eye away. Now, Soren lead the rest of them down through one of the frost covered courtyards to a circular building.
Inside, much to the guest's awe, and Soren's boredom, were a variety of large rooms, each fitted for a particular sport. Ashnard was picky in his sports, and snubbed the less violet sorts such as basketball, for the contact sports such as Hockey, Football and fights to the death.
"Hey, mr groom-to-be, aren't you going to toss the old pigskin around?" Ranulf asked.
"Me?" Pelleas said. He looked around, as if he might be mistaken, and there would be another person who he was referring to.
"Is anyone else getting married here?" Ranulf said.
"Uh, no. I don't think, unless Soren has another secret he's keeping from us," Pelleas said.
Ranulf grinned at Soren. "Well, do you?"
"No. Not that it is any of your concern," Soren said.
"Considering I'd be buying the tuxes, I think it'd be a concern," Ranulf said.
"We wouldn't do the showy thing," Ike said. "Just a small thing. Tuxes probably wouldn't even be needed. It wouldn't really be anyone else's business. Family, a few friends, but that's it."
Soren looked to Ike, more than a little surprised. Ike was playing this far better than expected, though Soren would've answered that they were far too new to even think of marriage.
Soren cleared his throat. "Of course, things would have to be discussed. But as it is...I believe there was a game to play."
"Oh yeah, we should divide up the teams," Ike said. "I'll take Pelleas."
Pelleas had not been picked to play with a lot of sports games. He was always passed over. He looked bright, hopeful, and a little unbelieving at the news. "Y-you really want to pick me?"
"Sure," Ike said.
"Me and Kyza can be Team Gallia. You can be Team Daein, and Ike gets to be an honorary part via dating Soren."
"But Soren..." Pelleas began.
"Will not be playing," Soren said.
"He'll play ref," Ike said.
Soren did know things about football. He had studied it thoroughly in the few times he had tried to keep up with his father before he'd just given up altogether on ever having anything but a dysfunctional relationship with his family.
"All right, let's get this party started!" Ranulf said.
The game that followed resembled a game of keepaway, though through no malice on Ranulf and Ike's part. They were simply taller, stronger and more skilled. Ike carried most of Team Daein while Pelleas looked horribly dismayed and confused. Team Gallia had fabulous touchdown dance, and an advantage given Kyza actually had played football in school.
It didn't resemble any game of football Soren had ever analyzed. It didn't even resemble the games of touch or flag football which Soren never took part in. He had no clue how to referee a game where all the players seemed either completely ignorant to the rules, or simply defying them for some unknown reason. Though, he thought there really was only one choice. When in doubt, pick Ike. It would help the act, and to be fair, he liked Ike more than any of the others, who might do showy displays of affection or teasing at being his given choice.
Pelleas would run one way, lifting his arms so he looked more like the goalpost than anything. If anything, it was a test of wills between Kyza and Ike while Ranulf might as well have been an honorary cheerleader and commenter while Pelleas looked dismayed and lost. The ball went around, changing hands. Ike cradled the ball against him and run towards the edge. One unfortunate time, Pelleas got it. He looked at it in surprise as Kyza hit him in a tackle.
"You okay down there?" Ike asked.
"I...I...let me just catch my breath," Pelleas said.
"You'll be ok," Ranulf said. He bent, and patted Pelleas on the shoulder. "Not bad a bad play."
It was an obvious lie, but Pelleas seemed momentarily comforted.
"Who won?" Ranulf asked. He looked up
"Considering that you defied all laws of all known games of football, no one."
"Come on, somebody had to win," Ranulf said.
"Fine," Soren said. "Ike won."
"Biased, much?" Kyza said.
"Well, he did bribe the ref, if you know what I mean..." Ranulf said. He winked to Kyza, and Kyza chuckled.
"Oh that he did," Kyza said.
Soren cleared his throat. "If you keep it up, you're going to miss the Winged Bowl."
Ike seemed to come alert. He took Pelleas' hand and all but dragged him up, with seeming no effort on his part. After he had pulled him up, Pelleas looked surprised enough to almost keel over again, but Ranulf steadied him.
Ike's motivations were so easy to take advantage of.
But Soren found that he could be quite unpredictable. Instead of simply leaving, he took Soren's arm and guided him along.
"Ike," Soren said.
Ike looked back. "Yeah?"
"We always watch games together. Remember? Since the first date was in a sports bar."
Soren wondered if this wasn't revenge of some sort, though he couldn't think of for what. Still, he hadn't foreseen the amount of backstory Ike would put into this.
"That's sweet," Pelleas offered. "I mean, I didn't think you would be the anniversary keeping type...."
"I'm not. That's his thing," Soren said.
*
They all gathered around the giant flatscreen in the den, topped by dragon skulls and claws and an entertainment system made from barbed wire and oak. No one could say that Ashnard didn't watch his football games in style.
Ranulf picked up the snacks. Cheetoes, popcorn, beer, beef jerky, among other things. There's enough food to food a Gallian army, which means it will probably last a few hours between the three of them. Right away, Ike puts his arm over Soren's shoulders. Keeping up the facade, Soren curls close into Ike head to his chest, as if they did this regularly. It isn't a bad position, he supposes. He isn't touchy by nature, but it's preferable than having to have his mother going into one of her fits. Soren was barely tuning into the game as it was. Kyza, Ranulf and Ike were pumped. Pelleas took to the game, possibly in hope there wouldn't be a bachelor party after all. Soren knew he had quite a few reservations towards that custom, especially in regards to whether Micaiah would be secretly angry at him the whole time, or if even worse, she might have a female equivalent of her own and run off with the stripper. Ranulf had offered to find gay strippers for her, but that hadn't really comforted Pelleas on the matter.
He mentally spent the time trying to go over the speech. He's been subjected to plenty of games, so much that he can even feign interest while thinking of other things, and throw enough sports buzz words to sound as if he actually gave a damn about this inane sport.
He left by the half-time show, and manufactured a reasonable enough emergency to excuse his absence. Forty-five minutes of staring at his laptop screen, he wasn't any closer to making headway on the best man's speech.
Eventually he gave up, and came down to the lower den. The Winged Bowl was just winding down and considering Ike and Ranulf's good spirits, it must have been a victory for whatever teams they favored. Pelleas had his hands in his lap, looking awkward. He must've cheered when the wrong team scored again. Lack of sports skills was one of their father's biggest issues with them. That and lack of willingness and ability to tear apart their enemies with their bare hands. Soren had at least studied the basics (on both fronts), and could hold down a conversation, despite his apathy, but Pelleas always remained clueless in these matters, no matter how he tried. He was clueless in a lot of things, such as which side to take when it came to his dear mother and soon-to-be wife.
As it was, Micaiah and Almedha already were showing signs of not getting along. Micaiah wanted world peace and understanding; Almedha wanted to peons to stay in their place. She had snubbed her, and their family by refusing to wear the royal queen's cloak, made with fur, or the new fur-lined leather boots she'd offered her, or to attend the traditional pig slaughter that made up the beginning of the Frost Fair, and would tide the families over until after the new year.
It was after the show was over, and in their connected rooms while Ike changed out of his shirt that was now filled with salsa and cheeto stains that Ike voiced the same thoughts Soren had been thinking.
"Somehow, I think their relationship is going to be the sort of thing bad mother-in-law jokes are made of," Ike said.
"Just be glad mother skipped the family tradition of drinking from the chalice," Soren said.
"The chalice? That doesn't sound too bad, or is Micaiah anti-wine now, too?"
"The chalice my father carved from skull of one of his favorite enemies?" Soren said.
"Forget I asked," Ike said.
*
Ranulf was hardly finished at any rate. After the game, instead of actual family time, or work on the many things which were in dire need of being checked a millionth time over, Ranulf decided that their bro time was not quite finished. Pelleas retired, citing an actual need to spend time with his fiancé, but Ike and Soren were not quite so lucky.
The light down in the basements was dim, and the air always smelled faintly musty. The stairs were made of stone, but could get slick and near untraversable in this time of the year. Far be it from fix the stairs, Ashnard had made them to up the challenge and amusement factor. More than once to add to the game, he'd push the person down them if the stairs didn't do the job for him. All of them made it down this time, however. Ranulf had reached it first, citing something about feline grace. Kyza was elsewhere, the only one of them at the moment to do actual work.
"You know, you never told me about the pool table before. Kyza had to let me know when he was playing hide and seek with me. Any chance there's a minibar down here too?" Ranulf said.
"There's an entire wine cellar down here," Soren said.
Soren of course knew what the hide and seek was a metaphor for. He managed to keep his disapproving glares to himself, but just barely, and only because he had to hold only Ike in front of him, so he wouldn't fall down headfirst to the stones and join every other person who had died on these stairs.
"Nice," Ranulf said. "The cues aren't made from the bones of his enemies, are they?" Ranulf looked close at one, and gave it a sniff.
"They're just regular cues," Soren said.
Ike and Ranulf readied their cues for a game, passing light conversation which Soren wasn't paying attention to. Soren sat at the sole chair in the room, which had seen better days. The leather was cracked, the wood had more than a few scratch marks and suspicious dark stains. Soren crossed his legs, and folded his hands on his lap.
"I'd ask you to play, but I know you'll just excuse out and maybe insult my mother in the process," Ranulf said.
"Hardly," Soren said. "Your father, however..."
"My father was a total tomcat," Ranulf said with a grin.
"Ike will just have to win in my stead," Soren said.
"I'll do my best," Ike said.
Soren leaned back, barely watching. He was a very competent person, in both academics and administrative positions. It was only actually interacting with people that his incompetence came to light. Ike leaned over and made the first strike, knocking the balls free from the triangle. He was wearing a black t-shirt of Ranulf's which was tight on him, and not simply because of the size difference between them. Soren couldn't help but see that he was now the envy of most of the single girls, and a few of the taken ones as well—to say nothing of some of the men, such as Kyza, who leaned that way. Even Soren, who had been a barren wasteland when it came to romance, had to admit that Ike was a nice find for matters such as this. There was something charming about his good nature, his hero-like persona which made him likable and his faults of bluntness and lack of manners forgivable. Unlike Ranulf, his charm wasn't structured to make him get away with as much as possible. Soren didn't think Ike had a single bit of artifice in his body, so much so that this job must be stretching him to his limits. Soren had seen no history of acting in his resume, and doubted he'd even made it into a school play, all things considered. Still, he was proving quite competent in this farce.
He might pay him extra, just for that. The foreclosure on his family home had already been stayed, but a little bonus for never lapsing in character and checking out a woman's low neckline, even when it was shoved in his face wouldn't be out of line.
He'd almost regret not having him around for other family gatherings, if only because it lessened the older women who wanted to get their claws into his family fortune via their daughters, nieces or cousins.
Love could have its uses after all.
*
"He plays a mean game of pool," Ike said as they shuffled out into the streets past the gates of the Keep.
"For a moment there, I thought you'd win," Soren replied.
"Me too," Ike said. "But Ranulf's a poolshark. Or maybe just a cheat."
"A cheat," Soren said. "I'm sure I can find plenty of reliable sources for that one."
"Probably," Ike said.
Technically, the house was filled with all kinds of beer, but as it was, his family had him on edge, and a half hour's respite was worth the walk in the cold. They walked out of the gates without being questioned by the gatekeeper, and walked into Nevassa. Soren had offered to summon Bryce to drive them, but Ike had turned down the idea. Besides, the walk wasn't too long, so Soren didn't push the issue. The place they were headed was one of the worse parts of town. Soren wouldn't have been out here alone, but he didn't think anyone would try and confront them with Ike around. Either way, he kept his hood up and his gaze averted from the people at the corners. Ike's expression hardened at the sight of them, his jaw set. Ike reached into his pockets and left gald at every filthy street kid or vagrant he saw, whether they were awake, or sleeping clutching a bottle. Some cursed him, others looked wary, while others looked up with almost a sense of awe.
"They'll just go waste it," Soren said. "The Beorc race is fundamentally selfish. Even if it doesn't get automatically wasted on alcohol, it'll probably be stolen from them before the night is over."
"I do what I can," Ike said.
"They'll slit each other's throats to get the slightest bit ahead. This isn't Crimea with its morals and idealism. It'd do you good to remember that."
Ike didn't reply, and they walked in silence all the long way back to the Keep.
*
He and Ike hadn't talked since the last alcohol run. They'd walked home without another word, and gone to separate sides of the house. Soren sifted through his emails in a quiet corner. There were always quiet nooks and places to get lost in the Keep. His publicist had kept him informed of the news. There'd been another protest of late, some ten death threats, and another investigative journalist trying to make his name by exposing some other atrocity his father had committed. All tedious and routine stuff, that nonetheless required his ladylike, quiet publicist to come and address the masses.
His publicist thought the best of everyone. Quite so, given her history of fiances. First a corrupt senator who met his end, and second a drunken gambler. It was only by Ranulf's 'consulting' that he knew this (though more often than not it resembled gossip).
"It's come again, Mr. Nevassa, sir," she said apologetically. "The letters. They're accusing you of being branded, and threatening to reveal it to the world."
Soren closed his eyes, his hand tightening on the phone. Old prejudices lingered long in Daein. Crimea was more accepting, but only at the veneer. It was fashionable to be accepting in public, but keep the hate hidden behind empty words of love and peace.
"Mr. Nevassa? Should I prepare an official statement—"
"No," Soren said. "Next time, only call if you have something other than rumors that belong in a tabloid."
"Yes, Mr Nevassa," she said apologetically. He closed the phone without bothering with a goodbye.
His reception had been spotty at best. The snow had fallen heavily all day, and now, as the phone rung again. He opened the phone without checking the readout, it crackled into static.
Soren swore under his breath. He couldn't get a good connection here. He stepped outside for a moment, the waiters barely taking notice as he walked by. He wasn't looking forward to awkwardly sitting by his paid date after their disagreement earlier, and going through the motions of being a happy couple during the rehearsal.
"What is it now?" Soren said
"You will pay for the crimes of your family," came the hiss through the crackle of static.
Soren rolled his eyes. "You'll have to be more creative than that, considering this is the thirtieth death threat I've received this week."
The phone connection went dead, and Soren shook his head. A wasted trip outside into the cold. He turned and headed back. He heard the crunching of snow behind him, another hiss. He turned to see a shadowed shape coming closer.
"More creative? How about this, human! This is for the members of my race you have slaughtered!"
The laguz pounced, and he slammed against the wall hard enough to draw blood. There was a snapping sound, the phone fell into a snowbank as Soren slumped against the wall, his vision darkening until he was only aware of the predator which had closed in on him.
