[INTRO; OPEN]

[bokor]

The tall thin man was standing more or less near one gathering of gravestones in the evening dusk. Most people would be avoiding a place like this, and truthfully so should Facilier have been, if defiance hadn't temporarily overridden his common sense. He reasoned that the place wasn't so frightening even to a man who'd so mightily pissed off the spirits and so deeply overdrawn his finances that they'd dragged him off when he'd made the mistake of blurting that he couldn't pay them.

Maybe this was payment, or punishment, or maybe it was a third thing altogether, but Facilier knew second chance when he saw it and he knew landing on his feet when he had to. He could flourish in the sidewalk cracks like a weed, or he could... spend his time outside the castle assessing it nervously from a graveyard in which he paradoxically just felt more comfortable. That was right. Plenty of room around here to see anyone coming, plenty of space to escape if he felt uneasy, and no bokor had anything to fear from the dead that they didn't owe.

When he'd calmed his racing heart enough to actually pretend to be casual, he decided to make his way closer to the castle proper. Maybe there'd be a newspaper. Creepy Gothic Herald, with a date, which was about all he was interested in. He bothered with nothing like brochures, and this was far from New Orleans, but the same rules applied. Talk to people. Get friendly, pick up whatever unbiased, usable information presented itself and pick up the biased stuff too, but it might be harder to sift through that here.

He'd have to hope folks here were friendly enough to avail himself of their hospitality, a fish completely out of water as he reluctantly left even the shadow of familiarity with the graveyard and went people hunting.

And what that meant was lurking in shadowy halls, shuffling his tarot deck and keeping a look out for people who looked like suckers. Or at the very least like they wouldn't just attack him.

Comments

/belatedly adds a detail i always forget whoops

[dustless]

They are striking...although the clearly hand-knitted green scarf might take from the image somewhat.

The amusement's ignored--by now, they're used to people who smile when they're anything but happy. Showing up in a new place where everybody's suddenly changing and you might too must be pretty stressful.

...They wonder what he'd turn into. Nothing's off-limits, as far as they knew, although they've seen pictures of scarecrows before. What with how tall he is...well. Hopefully not. Frisk knows by now how lucky they are with just these changes; they're not forced to listen to peoples' orders or stuck in small areas.

Favor? No idea what that might mean, but they accept it with a shrug. They would've just told him stuff without it anyway, but they're not going to worry about it much. "Problems...problems...don't start FIGHTS with--well, most everybody's a monster right now, and doing that with anybody's sorta dumb, but when we're turned back--" because everyone had to be, eventually "--especially try not to FIGHT monsters. They're nice. Except--except be careful with Killer Croc. Dunno if he's a croc monster right now, but he's got a big scar down his face over his eye, you'll know him if you see him. He'll probably try to eat you," they explain, lip curling. "Just run."

Then they pause, tapping their chin with a finger. What else could 'problems' be...?

"Um... oh, be careful with the cakes in the ballroom. They're good, but a lot of them have jewelry inside. For some reason. So be careful not to choke or break your teeth. Don't try to get off the Edge, 'cause there's no way down and you'll probably die if you can't fly..." Beat. "...an' that's all I can think of right now."

well the *devil* is in the details hehe

[bokor]

It was an odd detail, the scarf, and at first he honestly hadn't noticed it on them, but once he got the overall picture and looked again, he realized it was an odd thing to have. It looked like a gift from someone who really cared about them.

"Believe me, I wasn't into the idea of starting any fights just yet." Facilier agreed with their warning wholeheartedly, "Pretty risky thing even when you know people." He listened, then chuckled at the comment they made about monsters being nice. "I know some people who'd like you for saying that," He deflected with ease, but stored it away for later, to think about. Killer Croc just sounded like the kind of name a body didn't want to mess with generally.

"Are you serious or joking about the eating thing? Because I ate my fair share of gator back home," One of the key ingredients of gumbo, in fact, "But this just don't seem fair in reverse."

He digested the rest of their warnings with half a raised eyebrow. "I'm guessing from all this I'm pretty lucky to find you first, Frisk. Did I catch you headed someplace? We can walk there together..." Cautiously inviting himself along, but adding, "I wouldn't want to hold you up."

B3c

[dustless]

"'Yet'," they parrot dryly. "Well, when people freak out--'cause people do that when they're, you know, dealing with stuff they don't understand--they can get scared, and scared people can do dumb things. Like FIGHT. Or worse. So, usually try to warn people to try not to do that before somebody gets hurt or dead."

Grimace. (Those're much more effective-looking now that they've got a maw full of fangs, though Frisk's not quite aware of that.) "Serious. That's how me an' him met, him trying to get me to get near him and--" they lift their hand in the air and snap it shut. "--it was kinda close." Way, way, way too close, in fact. Being eaten is one of the few ways to die that genuinely scares them.

Their shrug's exaggerated with their wings. "Used to helping people new here." They shoot a dangerous look at the floor, a whisper of smoke sliding out through their teeth as they go on. "Wasn't really doing anything. Was just pretty pissed off at some of the changes going around. Still, can show you the Edge. If you have't seen it yet."

They've learned it's easier to register things once they've let people really look at it. (They assume he knows a little more than he really does--and he did say he learned fast, anyway.)

[bokor]

"Sure, that's so." He agreed, putting his hands into his pockets. "Me, though, I never thought fighting direct was a good way to get anything done, so don't you fret." He asked an abrupt question of them, "Where'd you get that scarf?"

His nose wrinkled at the confirmation of almost being eaten. "As if a body don't have enough to worry over." He mused, but resigned himself more or less to the prospect, eying up their grimace and imagining it on a much taller person, then getting the slightest idea, possibly, about how Killer Croc might have looked at the time. "But forewarned and forearmed, I guess."

He let himself drop a step back at the dangerous look. Small or not, helpful or not, anyone could be dangerous and he didn't know them hardly at all yet.

"Show me, sure, as long as you don't expect me to get too close."

[dustless]

Smart man. Maybe-dangerous man, with that 'yet', but trying not to fight's a good start, Frisk thinks.

"My scarf?" They reach up to start messing with one of the ends. It's something they obviously do a lot, what wit how one single section's more unraveled and worn-looking than the rest. "Grune made it for me. She's a lady who got put here, too. Dunno if she changed, but she's got green hair and she's really nice." It's a treasured gift. What's more important is how it hides their scar.

A grumpy noise roiled through their throat at the blatant wariness. One hand, they get it, they're literally smoking, and this isn't the first time people've been scared of them even when they just looked like their normal kid. On the other, they don't like being scary. Or being mad. But they're always mad these days.

"...'kay. Probably a good idea." They don't know the name for 'vertigo', but they know the feeling. Not good to have someone topple off 'cause they got hit with it the first time.

With a flick of their hand to beckon, they head back through the halls.

It's not deeper, technically--in fact it's quite the opposite, since the gardens are the deepest place of the castle, and it's sunny and bright. It just feels like it, heading further towards the outside, the fog-that's-actually-cloud getting thicker and thicker. Flicking their wings doesn't help.

"Where're you from?" they ask abruptly.

[bokor]

"How long do people get stuck here, anyway?" Facilier's wariness extended suddenly, "You got cozy enough with somebody living here for that long to make you a scarf, and one that's so... well loved." Yeah, subtle.

He fell into step properly after them as they walked, letting them set the pace as he watched their back, their flexing wings and steaming... steam. Smoke. Whatever. He wasn't an infernal biological expert by any stretch, but this little demon looked kind of fascinating just on the basis that they were actually a normal human, and that was some advanced conjure for someone without any means. He wondered not for the first time if the lwa were involved after all, or if they'd just dumped him here and decided he could make good on his own.

"New Orleans, beautiful city in Louisiana." He said in answer, with a tone like he suspected it wouldn't mean much to them. "Gotta admit I kinda miss it already. Which probably sounds ridiculous to you."

[dustless]

Their shoulders roll. "...dunno. Some people, they showed up for a couple weeks, and then were gone. A lot more are still here. I've been around for almost a year now, I think," they say quietly.

"Not ridiculous. Lots of people want to get home. I'm from--" they mention a city he's never heard of "--by Mt. Ebott. Was climbing down it when I got here, actually. And when're you from?"

As they ask, they come across the doors to outside. ...It should've taken longer than that, actually, but maybe the castle wanted to get him to see it, too.

It only groans a little when they push it open.

And then they're there. On the Edge, on the crunchy hardy grass that grows where there's so much less sun. Mountains of cloud swirl above them, below them, in front of them, around them, and the wind's the only noise that can be made out.

It's scary, it's beautiful. They've learned to like it out here; they actually skip forward to the very precipice before dropping to sit, cross-legged.

[bokor]

Facilier surprised himself with the sympathy, "Must be hard on ya. Think I'm gonna be homesick in a couple days, let alone a year." He rubbed his chin, watching them from behind still, finding it easier to talk emotions when he didn't have to fake a smile to someone's face, but still not ready to be completely open, "Least I lucked out meeting somebody who was willing to keep me out of trouble rather than steering me into it," He opined after another moment of thought. No harm saying that.

"When am I from?" Facilier repeated dubiously, but if dimensional travel was possible, "1926, AD. Round February."

He blinked, and then outright stared at the view, agreeing wholeheartedly that it had an unnerving but transfixing quality.

"Whoa." He stepped up a little closer, staring and forgetting for a moment to guard his expression. "....Anybody ever try flying through this?"

[dustless]

"'M sorry. I've got...I miss some stuff, but I've made friends an' family here. Not everybody's that...lucky."

1926, and they hum in surprise. Not the biggest time difference they've ever heard, but still--and he doesn't dress much like they're pretty sure people in the 1920s did. But they're not an expert on history, and who knows? If doctors wear that kind of outfit...it's probably not like theirs was at all, anyway.

Frisk grins at his face, waving grandly at it all.

"Yeah, couple people. They always ended up back here, no matter which way they went. It's not...a bad place, though."