Impatience

[touchedinthehead]

Aldaras doesn't bring up the knife with Annie again, nor his sister, or various ways she could be hurt. Annie has homework, so she doesn't stay at his apartment too long. He goes back to having nothing to do - there's some more pacing, some quiet freaking out over Annie and her safety, and then he distracts himself with obsessive preparation for taking care of the knife.

He'll - pack with the assumption that he can save his sister. There's lots of non-perishable food, packing as much as possible with the least amount of weight. Water, too, but that one's a bit harder. It's always heavy. Whatever, that's fine, he'll just - obsessively pack some more things. Pack, pack, pack.

Predictably, he runs out of things to do. Except think. Which has become something of a minefield, lately. To keep him from doing something stupid. He can't think about Zevaia, can't think about the knife, can't think about the Dean and how insanely long it's taking him to get the smallest tidbits of information out of him. He can't think too much about obsessive ways to make sure Annie's safe, for fear of becoming some kind of psychotic, controlling stalker or something.

But trying to not think about Annie is a recipe for failure or insanity, so he distracts himself with - what ifs. What would have happened if he'd met her without the necklace's and tracker's side effects combination, what he would have done if she'd asked him to kiss her...

That helps the time pass by faster.

Comments

[alicornucopia]

Sintre proves a taciturn companion and an experienced hiker. He tromps along where Aldaras leads.

[touchedinthehead]

Aldaras remembers the way. He's not feeling very talkative either, honestly, he's thinking of tactics and what he'll say to his sister and occasionally wondering if Annie will mourn him if he dies horrifically.

They come across the place Aldaras remembers, and then they start finding corpses. Intermittently, without a mark on them, no supplies for travel, in inappropriate clothes for travel. Each one is thin and emaciated, with bleeding feet, and it's not difficult to figure out that they died of long-term exposure.

"Seems we're on the right track," sighs Aldaras.

[alicornucopia]

"Seems like," says Sintre.

[touchedinthehead]

"You should probably touch the necklace now, for safety. We might run into its radius at any time."

[alicornucopia]

"Right," agrees Sintre, and he takes off one of his gloves and holds out his hand.

[touchedinthehead]

Aldaras removes the necklace from its box, and - poke.

"All right, then. Let's keep going."

He'll keep the necklace out. For when they find any cut.

[alicornucopia]

Sintre puts his glove back on - he doesn't want to touch the knife, necklace or no necklace - and follows.

[touchedinthehead]

Yeah, Aldaras has got gloves for the same reason.

From here, they don't have a guide, but it's not like the cut are particularly subtle about where they go. A decent group of people going in the same direction at a steady pace with barely any rest through the wilderness is - pretty obvious, even to people inexperience with tracking.

They find their first cut the next day. Two people move faster than a group of shambling, emaciated cut, after all.

[alicornucopia]

Sintre keeps his quarterstaff up, but the woman they find is not in any condition to walk, or she'd be following the knife still. She's breathing yet, though.

"Your show," he mutters to Aldaras.

[touchedinthehead]

"My show," agrees Aldaras, softly.

He touches the necklace to her arm, gently.

[alicornucopia]

She screams, and bursts into tears, and starts patting herself down, stopping in absolute confusion when she finds her twisted ankle in the condition it's in.

[touchedinthehead]

"Hey, it's okay," assures Aldaras. "We're here, I have an artifact that can uncut people." He produces a canteen and offers it to the poor woman. "You're free."

[alicornucopia]

She takes the water and gulps it all down, and hands back the canteen, and tries to get up; her ankle gives out under her.

"What is wrong with me," she murmurs.

[touchedinthehead]

Aldaras looks at the offending ankle.

"... Your ankle seems to be twisted," he observes. "Do you feel any pain?"

[alicornucopia]

"No," she says, eyes watering again.

[touchedinthehead]

"It's all right," assures Aldaras, again. "Okay? You're completely immune to the knife now, it's okay, you're free."

[alicornucopia]

"Where am I - how am I going to get home -"

[touchedinthehead]

"I'll help you get home, but first we have to help the other people who are cut and - figure out what to do with the knife. Probably encase it in concrete and throw it in the ocean."

[alicornucopia]

"They went that way," she says, pointing.

[touchedinthehead]

"Thank you," says Aldaras, and he retrieves some more water and food and offers it to her. Then, off to - chase down more cut.

[alicornucopia]

Sintre goes with him, staff at the ready.

[touchedinthehead]

It doesn't take very long for them to come across more of the cut. These are less immobile stragglers. The knife, and Aldaras's sister aren't in sight, yet.

[alicornucopia]

The stragglers who attempt to hold more than perfunctory conversations report the same odd painlessness - in their blistered feet, scratched-up arms from tromping through the forest, and what ought to be desperately empty stomachs.

They point the way and take the water they're offered.

[cut_and_dried]

And then, predictably - sister. She does not have the knife in her hand, this time, but she is very obviously alive.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) she seems to be one of the ones in better health. They might have a little bit of trouble poking her with the necklace.

[alicornucopia]

Well, this is what Sintre's for, ostensibly.

He does his best to trip the cut on the outskirts of the group so Aldaras can necklace them. The fact that they don't seem to feel any pain makes him a little casual about doing injury, though he does confine himself to swatting away outstretched defending arms and sweeping their legs out from under them rather than trying body or head blows that will do little to deter someone insensitive to discomfort.