General Mayhem

[Meldawen]

"...don't get dirty, stay out of the way, and if you lose another handkerchief, Phaerin Grey - !" Phaerin's mother finished her tirade with a shout at her son's retreating back. It nevertheless made quite an impression on him, and he thrust a worried hand into the pocket of his pristine waistcoat and wondered just how much trouble would result if he lost the handkerchief and rendered the waistcoat unwearable. Had to have the handkerchief to lose it, really.

He stopped in the hallway to execute a perfect bow to Celeste Armadur, and wondered if her returning icy look had anything to do with a certain bouquet of poison ivy. He snuck a look at her hands to see, and concluded that it probably did. "Could you tell me where I might find Kjan?" he piped, his best impression of a flawlessly well-mannered miniature nobleman making an appearance. Evidently she didn't know, because Phaerin had a lovely view of her retreating back, and an aching toe to go with it. Must they always step in the wrong spot with high heels on?

He shoved his hand in his pockets and set off to find his partner in crime. After a few halfhearted searches - of the stables, the kitchens, and for a reason known only to the two of them, underneath the housekeeper's assistant's daughter's bedroom window - he lost interest and wandered through deserted hallways, calling, "Kjan...Kjan...that patch of kyth'awi probably grew back enough to use again..."

[pirateoftherings]

"Kjan Armadur, you'll get back here this instant young man, or I'll-"

Whatever threat ensued was effectively drowned out by a loud crash that may or may not have come from Lady Armadur's prized antique vase. Roughly three seconds later, a half-dressed, blonde-haired, frantic young boy came speeding around the corner and down the hallway before haphazardly skidding to a stop mere inches in front of Phaerin.

"Phae!" he exclaimed brightly between breaths, his expression bordering on manic. "You have to hide me, right now! There's a ball here tonight, which I was fine with because I always just hide in my room until all the boring people have gone away, but then Mother said that I was to attend, which I was still somewhat okay with, since the cooks always make great food and it's fun to pester anyone who wants to dance with Celeste. BUT-" he finally paused for a breath "-then I was in my room just now, and Bibsy was insisting on helping me get dressed already - I've been told I'm quite handsome when I actually care enough to dress up - and then she pulled out The Vest!"

'The Vest' was a term most commonly applied to a certain silk, embroidered vest that had been custom-made for Kjan several years ago when his parents -mostly his mother- had first decided that he was old enough to start attending the occasional formal event and thus required formal attire. It was actually a quite lovely vest (though in his opinion the flowers were too much) and had been worn on several occasions with great success, but one problem remained- it was made when he was eight. He was now ten (very nearly eleven, thank you), and though he hadn't begun to grow much yet (Phae assured him he soon would), the fact remained that he had grown enough to make the vest much too small.

Which wouldn't have actually been a problem, except that Bibsy, in her old age, was of the opinion that it was still a perfectly good garment and persisted in trying to make Kjan wear it on every given occasion. And thus, Kjan was currently running for his life wearing only stockings, trousers, and a wrinkled tunic that looked and smelled like it had just been grabbed from the laundry hamper. Charming.

"That woman's insane, she is," he declared, slowly starting to regain his breath.

[Meldawen]

Phaerin was extremely adept at finding hiding places in his own manor, which was a skill easily acquired considering the sheer number of niches with suits of armor, hanging tapestries, and doors in strange places. In Kjan's, though, he was slightly at a loss. Was this, however, an opportunity to get the handkerchief lost, or the waistcoat dirty?

Judging from Bibsy's level of mobility, which he'd had occasion to observe in the past, she would be coming after Kjan to stuff him into The Vest in approximately three and a half seconds. Ample time. Option One - door on the opposite side of the hall. Option Two - window beside the door. Option Three - ah, no time for Option Three. Option Two it was.

With the speed of a greased lightning bolt Phaerin grabbed Kjan's shirt and dropped him out the window first, diving after in a flurry of neatly pressed waistcoat and stockings, to land directly on top of his friend in a section of recently watered dirt. E.g. mud. First marring of waistcoat - achieved. "C'mon!" he admonished, climbing off of Kjan with a glance upwards at the window. Old Bibsy's sounds of great displeasure were evident. "Let's go!"

[pirateoftherings]

Kjan was about to complain when he paused, considered for half a second whether he actually cared, determined that he didn't, and quickly jumped up to follow Phaerin. "Into the stables!" he called out suddenly, dodging into said building and pulling Phaerin in after him.

"What'd you do this time?" Daryn, the young man in charge of tending the horses, inquired as both boys went running past him.

"Bibsy," Kjan offered as his only breathless explanation. "I'm not here." He ducked behind the door of an empty stall mere seconds before a rather incensed-looking nursemaid barged into the stable. Stars, that woman was fast for her age. Of course, Kjan supposed it was rather easy to stay in top physical shape when one chased around Armadur children for over two decades.

'Bibsy' (which wasn't even her real name, but rather a nickname bestowed upon her after one of the children had been incapable of pronouncing her real name, which Kjan wasn't even sure he knew) cast a glance around the room before turning on Daryn, who was doing a remarkable job of continuing to groom one of the horses as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Where's he gone?" she demanded of the stablehand.

Daryn looked up in surprise and made a show of looking around the room. "Who?"

"Same one I've been chasin' for near of eleven years," Bibsy said in exasperation as she continued her visual search. "I know he comes 'ere to hide."

"Haven't seen him, ma'am," Daryn replied with a shrug, turning back to his work. "You check the kitchens yet? Clarence said he's making those tarts that Master Kjan likes so much, and I wouldn't put it past the little devil to be in there trying to snatch a few."

Bibsy looked doubtful, but after casting a final suspicious glance around the room, she finally turned and left.


The moment she was gone, Kjan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "I owe you one."

"Not a problem," Daryn said without looking up. "Actually remember to close the stall next time you get back from riding, and I'll call us even....And to what do I owe the honour, young Lord Grey?"

[Meldawen]

Phaerin started to bow and abandoned the effort halfway through. "My mother," he responded wearily, and cast a sidelong glance at Kjan and then a calculating one at Daryn. "I wasn't here either. But if I was, I would ask if you knew anywhere to get kyth'awi." He nodded earnestly, and glanced down at the muddied sleeves of his jacket. "It doesn't matter where it is."

A thought suddenly struck him, however, and he muttered to Kjan out the corner of his mouth - "Dante's coming, right?"

"If I had seen you," Daryn replied, calmly grooming the horse still, "I might say that it's across the brook, north side of the estate, a bit east of the white gazebo. I might also admonish you that the esteemed Dante Salone was here earlier looking most fearsome, and to be extremely careful."

Phaerin dashed out of the stables with one cursory examination of the yard for any potentially dangerous onlookers, dragging Kjan after him.

Daryn watched them go with an air of satisfaction. "Only if I'd seen you, though," he called at their retreating backs. "Theoretically."

[pirateoftherings]

Kjan swatted Phaerin's hand away absently as he mulled over the possible consequences of going off to find the kyth'awi now. He doubted his mother would be overly thrilled when Bibsy informed her of his recent escapades, and even less once she found the vase. It would be prudent to not do anything more that might potentially anger her. Not that Kjan really thought much about that sort of thing. He wasn't even certain what 'prudent' meant, except that Aran commonly used it between "im-" and "whelp" when referring to his favorite little brother. Still, there was a small voice telling him that he probably shouldn't push his luck right now.

Fortunately, that very, very small voice was easily blocked out by the very, very amusing mental image of one Dante Salone arriving at the ball with bright purple teeth. Let's see him try to kiss Celeste then, Kjan thought with a smirk that was really far too devious for one of his age.

Besides, guests weren't due to start arriving for another four hours. That meant he had precisely three hours and fifty-nine minutes before he technically had to be back. The mud that Phaerin had helped him find might be a bit of a problem, but nothing that a quick swim in the brook couldn't fix.

"We going, then?"

[Meldawen]

Phaerin, of course, was already gone. His enthusiasm for such things was really remarkable, especially considering the intimidating wrath of his mother when she found out. And she inevitably did. Lady Grey was the epitome of strict parent - an astonishing fact when one met her son.

It took a few impromptu dashes for the nearest place of concealment in order to make it to the designated spot undiscovered. In the process Phaerin succeeded in cheerfully getting his waistcoat irretrievably soiled, which pleased him to no end until he remembered inconveniently that he was supposed to dine with his parents that evening rather then skulk about in corners with Kjan. At this point he stopped very suddenly and groaned aloud, which was the cause of the next scramble for cover as the elderly gardener came stumping around the corner. Daryn would happily keep their secret - other servants, not so much.

"What am I going to do?" he moaned quietly to Kjan from behind a gorse bush. The muddied garment had collected several green bristles from said piece of foliage. He inspected it mournfully. Spots of mud decorated the sleeves, along with a varied collection of suspiciously colored stains. A rip was beginning in one of his coattails. "Mother'll kill me. Worse than last time."

[pirateoftherings]

"You don't look very dead," Kjan replied with a shrug as soon as the gardener had passed. "Anyway, I've probably got something you can borrow back in my room, assuming we can get past dear Bibsy. You're a bit bigger, but it shouldn't be a problem. But first, we get the kyth'awi. I think that Dante's getting serious about Celeste." He pulled a face, as if to indicate that he had no idea why this was. Sure, she could be kinda nice sometimes, when she wasn't being high-maintenance or making his life generally miserable, but he couldn't imagine anyone actually liking her. Just one more mystery he'd have to write off as a 'grown-up thing.' "C'mon, I think the coast's clear."

[Meldawen]

Phaerin stopped to consider whether he should meticulously guard the welfare of his waistcoat from now on, but arrived at the conclusion that it was beyond help and he'd have more fun damaging it beyond repair than he would attempting to rescue it. Hence the situation he found himself in moments later, when the two of them were crouched over an innocent-looking plant fumbling for the tiny violet flowers they both knew were there somewhere - from mutual experience. Phaerin wondered vaguely how many possible matches they'd ruined. "I wish I had a sister," he said reflectively. "It's not fair; you have two."

Voices were floating vaguely out of the white gazebo, making him sit up and cock his head for a moment. The diabolical grin that surfaced a moment later was identification of its occupants in itself. A delicate soprano, trilling flirtatiously, and a somewhat bumblebee-like baritone could have been music to his ears. "You said not for another four hours!" he hissed across the plant at Kjan, though it was more out of delight than annoyance. "C'mon, what can we do to him?"

[pirateoftherings]

Kjan, however, was already far ahead of him. Kneeling down in the dirt (and thus ruining any nonexistent chance he had of escaping his mother's wrath upon his return), he began quickly sifting through the moist dirt under the bush until his face suddenly lit up. A little more shifting of the dirt revealed a group of ten or so tiny, reptillian skinks crawling around in the cool soil.

Perfect.

Gently, so as to not agitate the creatures - despite their docile nature, they did have rather sharp little retractable claws that they used quite effectively when disturbed - he coaxed several into the palm of his hand, where they seemed content to remain (understandable, since by now his hand was about as dirty as the ground itself). Then, smirking mischievously, he silently crept up to the gazebo, behind the two individuals in question and thus safely out of their range of vision for the time being. As stealthily as he could, he slowly stood up on his toes, lifting his hand up...up...and then....

"KJAN!"

Kjan was flying. Or rather, he felt like he was flying. Whether or not his feet were actually touching the ground was the farthest thing from his mind as he fled for his life for the second time in the past hour. He did fleetingly wonder whether or not his pursuer had forgiven him for their last encounter, though the fact that he was being pursued at all was some indication of the answer to that question.

"I just wanted to show them to you!" he insisted breathlessly, putting on his best display of youthful innocence. "They slipped, honest! I didn't MEAN for them to go down your shirt right before you kissed Celeste! And that section of hair on the right side of your head is already starting to grow normally again! There's no reason we can't be best friends!"

Evidently Dante didn't agree.

[Meldawen]

Phaerin very prudently snatched a handful of kyth'awi leaves and stuffed them in his pocket, skirting the gazebo carefully...carefully...to come up behind Dante. Something wriggled in his pocket, and with a grin that bordered on diabolical Phaerin fished it out and tiptoed forward -

"PHAERIN GREY, you little - !"

Darn. Opportunity had knocked and gone. Phaerin dodged Celeste's furious swat and had sense enough to start running before she did, catching Kjan's sleeve on the way. "Sorry!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Pressing engagement! Can't stay!"

Something whizzed past his head and it took a moment before Phaerin realized it was a shoe. The very same one that had severely discomfited his toe earlier. "Is she always this temperamental?" he gasped at Kjan, narrowly avoiding braining himself on a tree. "And did you save one of those things? Good to put in someone's - tea - or - dinner - "

Running made one out of breath. And the idiotic shoes he was wearing were pinching awfully.

[pirateoftherings]

"It's the phase of the moon," Kjan replied nonchalantly as they finally took refuge behind a small shed near the edge of the estate. Off Phaerin's look, he expounded, "About once a month, Celeste gets really grumpy - even more than usual. She'll practically bite your head off for so much as breathing too close to her. All I can figure is that it has something to do with the phases of the moon. Makes sense, at least." He nodded sagely, proud to be the knowledgeable one for once. It was the only logical answer, after all. Except recently Cerys had started doing the same thing, but never at the same time as Celeste. Maybe all females did it, and they just all had a different phase of the moon. Or maybe his family was just insane....

Too much thinking, he decided. When his breathing had become somewhat regular once more, he turned and looked over at Phaerin. "So, I still have over three hours, technically. I certainly don't recall anyone saying that we couldn't leave the estate to go exploring...." He trailed off, grinning mischievously.

[Meldawen]

Phaerin pondered this for a minute or two. "I suppose that's an upside to not having sisters," he conceded. "Mother doesn't have weird phases of the moon. She eats a lot about the second thursday of every month, though, but that's always when Cook makes cabbage rolls."

Sitting back on his heels, he tried to remember the long list of "don't"s his mother had so kindly provided him with. "I don't think I remember her saying, 'don't leave the estate,'" he admitted in a somewhat disappointed tone. Settling for losing the handkerchief and dirtying the waistcoat would have to do. Maybe she'd be a little annoyed at him leaving the estate. A little annoyed + mad at losing handkerchief + mad at getting waistcoat dirty = probably quite irate. Close enough.

Now, how to best use three hours? "Do you figure Dante would be averse to more frogspawn?" he inquired thoughtfully. "We could put it in his pockets. Or his hat."

[pirateoftherings]

"I do value my life, you know," Kjan replied, wincing at the thought of what might become of him should he attempt anything else having to with Dante Salone at the present. For some reason, 'strangulation' came readily to mind, amid other less than desirable fates. He'd probably just lie low for a while and give Dante time to cool off.


Hah. He'd almost even convinced himself that he was serious. Of course common sense dictated that he really shouldn't push it with Dante, but since when did he have to listen to common sense? One of the wonderful things about being young and 'innocent' was that you could get away with quite a lot by blaming it on not knowing any better. "I think we've pretty much cleared out the ponds around here. Didn't that one pond we found in the woods have a lot of frogs, though?"

[Meldawen]

Phaerin wrinkled his nose. "Frogs...and other things. I still have scars. Maybe - "

Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted when he yelped a shocking word - stable language to say the very least - and dove down behind the shed again. The reason for this was apparent when Celeste stalked out across the broad, perfectly-manicured lawn with a certain Lady Grey in tow. Their expressions complimented each other perfectly; both murderous, the one sporting the very slightest smirk of satisfaction and the other a perfectly terrifying steely glint in her eye.

By the time his mother called - or rather demanded - that he make himself immediately accessible for whatever punishment she intended to inflict, Phaerin was gone with a tug on Kjan's sleeve for him to follow. Fortunately, the Armadur estate was bordered on three sides by thick forest, making exploration an entertaining pastime as well as a very private one - after all, who was going to go to the trouble to hunt for a pair of boys in umpteen square miles of trees, however troublesome they were?