====September 13, 2013
====Cerise, Dimitri
==== Cerise does some fact-checking, comes to the conclusion that everyone is mad and also her brother is still an idiot! Who's surprised?

Who Cerise, Dimitri
What Cerise does some fact-checking, comes to the conclusion that everyone is mad and also her brother is still an idiot! Who's surprised?
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Cerise and Dimitri's wagon.

olga-bydimi.jpg dimitri2.jpg

The wagon that once was Dimitri's home and should probably not be considered as such anymore has seen plenty of the male performer lately. And today? Today it's WIDE OPEN to air out after he'd dragged the stench of sea water and jungle in a few nights prior. Dimitri sits in the far back of the wagon, on its floorboards, gitar resting on his stretched out legs. He's picking at it sluggishly. Tuning it. And making faces at its strings. This has always been, by far, his least favourite part of owning instruments. But then again, who really likes tuning? "Thiiiiis… is a story." He starts singing idly, pickin' away a ditty on his poorly tuned instrument - he's out of practise, but his fingers manage a decent job either way, finding chords and strings slower but suffering no lack of precision for it. "Of the most beautiful thing in the world. MEeee."

Outside lurks the most frightening thing in the world, a creature that puts every other life-threatening predator in these jungles to shame: a pissed off Cerise.

Outside lurks the most frightening thing in the world, a creature that puts every other life-threatening predator in these jungles to shame: a pissed off Cerise. Did she sleep at all, after the late-night clutching session she played witness to? It's possible she did not, lying in her cot silently fuming at everything and everyone. And now, now she's here. Sure, it's a bit of a surprise that Dimitri's even awake, and it should be a pleasant one but his obnoxious attempt at singing- she swears he goes nasal on purpose, just to annoy her- only adds fuel to the fire. Stomp stomp stomp, the wagon rocks a little as she ascends the fold out stairs and turns to confront him. "Why didn't you tell me that that bitch had tried to kill you?"

"Whoah, whoah, have you gained weight?" This is the first thing Dimitri chooses to say when the wagons starts a-shakin'. He clings onto his gitar with both arms, like she might STEAL it. Nevermind that it's more theirs than his. "Wait, which—" His nose wrinkles and his brow furrows as his mind races past the last few days. Like there might have been several people who've put him near death as of late. Hey, he's pretty drunk sometimes, you never know! "… Bailey?" He finally manages, with a grin from ear to ear, up at his sister. "Did she tell you?" Wait! He holds up his hand. More important question: "Did she brag." He looks the very opposite of bitter.

It's a good thing he's got such a grip on that instrument. Cerise looks tempted to brain him with it. Kabong! "She cozied up to me at the clutching last night to gloat about it, aye, and act as if attempted murder is fine because you didn't answer a question. Like I should be grateful she pulled you out after she tossed you in! What the fuck is wrong with this place?" The more she rages, the more the brogue slips out. By the end, she's full on pissed off Bitran, mad as a dunked cat. There are wildly gesticulating hands. There are flashing eyes!

Wait. What is this? Dimitri knows how to handle people being upset. The answer is always something along the lines of 'laugh, then laugh some more'. But It doesn't seem to apply here, for some reason. Because this rant? Seems to take him entirely by surprise. He leans to the side and onto the instrument to help him rise, and his hands slip from the gitar so that he can reach for Cerise's arms. "Hey, shh. Calm. Before you smack yourself in the face. 'S your moneymaker, there." Is that— a little bit of concern in his voice, below that thick layer of amusement? Quite possibly. He's MOVIN', ducking down and sideways if needed to CATCH her line of sight. "We knew this place was cramped madness in a bottle gone off from the start, didn't we?"

Cerise sets her jaw and forces her hands to her sides, but only after the reminder about needing to be pretty. So, no more crazy waving. The annoyed? Possibly even the angry? That sticks around and leaves her glaring at Dimitri, as if his mild show of concern offended her delicate sensibilities. "I didn't think they'd resort to trying to drown you," she says through clenched teeth. "Who does that? Fucking goldriders, because no one can tell them different! You try to point out they're being ridiculous and what happens? You're ordered to play Ella in the Cinders." Okay, there she pauses if only due to running out of breath. Pant, pant. Pause. "…did you really bean her in the eye with a brush?"

Dimitri has learned long ago that when a sister's a ranting nearby, you don't interrupt. Stand behind her and make faces over her shoulder, sure, but interrupting? Not unless she's got no hand to smack you with. "You should have seen it." He grabs for something off to the side - which happens to be a stitched, three-part leather ball - and throws back an arm as if preparing to throw it clear out of the wagon and into the god damn horizon. "There I was, hanging precariously on death's very edge. My last seconds, little Olga, they were up. And I had to make good use of them. So… BAM." He THROWS. The ball whizzes right over Cerise's shoulder- sort of pathetically bounding to a stop where it lands, outside. Dimitri beams, as though the throw in this scenario had been more worthy of retelling than what happened before and after it. "Right in the- well, I mean, I was aiming for her nose, but, still, not bad. Think it'll leave a mark?" He quirks an eyebrow. Genuinely curious as to the answer.

This, this is why Cerise secretly loves her brother. He's funny as hell, once you get his special brand of humor. Of course, it wouldn't do to show it so Dimitri's dramatic reenactment just earn him a double-barrelled snort. "If I'd seen it, I'd be in the brig right now," she says grimly, having not so much as twitched when the ball came flying in her direction. Reluctantly though, she lets a teeny tiny curve lay claim to her lips. Just a bit. "You gave her a black eye, but it was fading." So cherish that brief moment of victory, big brother, for it is fleeting and soon no proof will exist. She turns and flops onto a flat-topped trunk. As is traditional, she begins to self-sooth by finger-combing her curls. Must look tidy. Groom groom groom. "I don't see why she had to rub it in my face, either."

Dimitri incoming! He fwompsits down next to Cerise without warning, stretching his arms out ahead of him in the very image of relaxation, compared to the groom groom grooming happening next to him. His expression one of contentment. A black eye'll do for now, apparently. "Maybe— that's the only way people get by around here. It must be!" An elbow SHOOTS out to prod his sister in the side, regardless of what she's doing when it hits. "Sure'd make sense'a why we're still at the bottom. Refusing to belittle, near-murder and… what else've they done?" Not a rhetorical question, by the expectant look he gives his sister, grin still on his face. He's got a THEORY.

Ugh, not while she's grooming. Cerise shoulderchecks him once she's finished rocking to the side from being prodded. Quitit. "Forced drudgery? Separating family? Attempted humiliation?" Because everyone knows that prancing around in a dress wasn't really going to embarrass Dimitri, right? She returns to gathering up her hair, twisting it into a rope held over her shoulder while staring moodily at the wagon's far wall. "I don't think that's how people get by. I think what happens is they get a dragon with a little shimmer to its hide and then they go insane," she theorizes. "I was thinking I should put myself out as a candidate for a gold egg but if they're all mad…"

"Ow." There's an exaggerated wince from Dimitri when he's so viciously counter-attacked, curling up like it wasn't his younger sister but a monster many times his size sinking its teeth into his shoulder. He recovers soon enough, however, planting feet firmly back onto the ground to liiift a hand behind his sister's back. Sneak-a sneak. "But you know why they go mad, right? Because they're not used to anything! How much would you bet all of these soft-bellied bathwater-brained tunnelsnakes weren't used to so much as a dozen raindrops on their heads before they got their hands on those walking meatgrinders? Whereas you, well. You've done things." Kindness? From Dimitri? Oh, don't worry. A second after he's said this, the friendly smile that's been inching across his face is suddenly explained; his hand DIGS into his sister's curls from behind. SHAKE SHAKE MESS IT UP.

Cerise should have known. Really. Nineteen turns of living with this person, and she should have expected that kindness was just a blind for harassment. Like her tenth Turnday present, when he gave her a freshly wrapped package of pissed off vtols? Or volunteered to introduce her to that cute guy, when she was fifteen, only to tell him that her leg hair was long enough to braid and her breath smells of curdled eggs in the morning? No wait, how about that time he'd said he would fix a dent in her drum only to toss it in the watchwher's burrow because "it needed a bigger water dish, the poor thing was parched"? But no. Every single time, Cerise is fooled. So she's listening, listening, nodding, quietly starting to feel better…and then she's twisting around to smacksmacksmack at his face. "Dimitri!"

"Dimiiitriii!" Comes a shrill, obnoxious echo from the person the name actually belongs to, smacksmacksmacking right back at his sister's hands. He jump up and away soon enough, bumping into several things all at once as he backs away in a FLURRY. Defeated! By the smacksmacksmacks! But suddenly! He inhales sharply and laughs, arms lowering. "Oh! Oh oh! Also thanks for telling little Junior Hannah about Damian." Sarcasm it might be, but he doesn't seem particularly upset about it. Entertained, if nothing else.

That's right he better run! "Ugh, I hate it when you use that voice," Cerise grumbles, turning her back to him and stubbornly returning to bringing order to her hair. As for his little thank you? With the entertained non-upset? Yes, well. She slides a narrow look over her shoulder, not entirely trusting that lack of anger. "I thought it might buy you some space if she knew. Buy us some space. If it doesn't work just tell her we made it up." Because he would do something like that, wouldn't he? "And stay away from Bailey, okay? Her and her brother. She said if I hurt his feelings she'd kill you."

Psh, Dimitri can be trusted! Totally. With anything. "It might'a helped. At the very least she now things I've got a spot of weakness, which I don't mind her thinking." Oh, the amount of confidence in the smirk now playing across his face. It's not no right to be there, but it stays." He swivels around to right a few things he bumped over, only to do it in such a rush that half of them fall right back over again. "Her brother? Isn't that the puppy-faced one with the smiles and the 'oh no ma'am call me no sir'? Eee… Ecran? Eeff… Ee-…?" Eh. Doesn't matter. "Why'd she—" He freezes, straightens, and beams at his sister. "oooh. OOH." Need he say much else?

"El'ai," Cerise absently corrects him. Names were always her thing and it comes easily to mind, as she fights a particularly stubborn snarl with her fingers. "The one who seems made of feelings, yes. I don't know why it matters but…" Except she does know now, once Dimitri gives voice to that lightbulb mouthful of vowels. Ooooh. Her head lifts and she turns it to blink at him. "…no. I've only met him twice and I hardly remember the second time, I was drinking."

"Drinking? Drinking!" Who's delighted? Dimitri's delighted! Will this annoy his sister more? BONUS. "Did he leave you the next morning as well?" His words come faster and faster now as he backs toward the door with his hands in front of his face, like he might have something THROWN at him at any moment. Though the anticipation of it only seems to increase the width of his stupid grin. "Because the last time I scolded someone for treating you poorly didn't work out so well for me— and let's face it, he's an easy target. He'd just stand there and take it, wouldn't he. Can you imagine the apologies?!"

"I said I met him, not that I fucked him." Both of those stresses are accompanied by thrown objects, yes. First a pillow, to lower his guard, and then a convenient carved wooden box that was lying around- the wagon is nothing if not a convenient place to find missiles for lobbing at each other. Cerise pushes her hair back after the assault and gives him her bulldog glare again. "The boy's a…a boy. I doubt he'd even know what to do, for all he's a full rider. Don't even. He's the last person we want mooning after me. Remember the murderous sister?"

PILLOW, YOU'VE GOT NO CHANCE. Dimitri swiftly bats it away with both arms, back toward Cerise, only for the wooden box to go clunkin' off a bony hip. Oof! He takes another step back. "What's she gonna do, almost throw me off a cliff this time?" He takes a step forward now, arms spread out. Wandering closer to Cerise. And closer. What's he planning to DO? You know, apart from be in between her and the door. "Besides, come on. Who're you talking to, here? Might be stupid, but I'm not… wait. That's not how it goes is it?"

"She said she'd throw you off the dock again and not fish you out next time." Is that not threat enough? No? All right, then! Clearly she'll have to take over the threat making aspect of things herself. Ah ah ah, he only gets one chance to surprise her! Cerise sees all too well how he's positioning himself and is on her feet a moment later, a finger leveled at his heart and elbows clamped firmly to her sides. "Don't," she warns, "don't you dare. I swear, my hand to the sky, that I won't even give Bailey a chance to kill you."

Oh excuse me did you tell Dimitri not to do a thing? Do you know what happens when someone tells Dimitri not to do a thing? "TOO LATE." He CHARGES. What for? Well, with Cerise's arms pinned to her sides it's all too easy. HERE COMES— oh. It's just a hug. Granted, it's probably an uncomfortably tight one but it's a hug nonetheless. "I'm gonna stick around. Like a marshleech."

"Noooooo!" What is this madness? Hugging? Not in her family! Cerise thrashes once, twice, and then just dangles as dead weight, suffering the embrace. Halp. Open display of affection. Against his shoulder, a grumble: "And that's supposed to make me happy? I hate you." Hmph. It's only because he might drop her that she fits her arms around his waist and squeezes.

VICTORY. Mind you, the hug wouldn't have been worth it in the first place if Cerise didn't do a bit of complaining. Dimitri lets go once a squeeze has been deployed, and without another LOOK at his sister's face, he starts on his way out, arms stretched over his head lazily. "Like a boat hates the water, I know!" Both would be of considerably less use without the other, though. At least, eh, in his head.

She'll allow it but only because there's nothing within quick reach to throw at his retreating head. "We're practicing in the library this afternoon!" Cerise calls after him. "Aaron built us a stage, we're going to use it! So don't go wandering off again, all right? I mean it, Dimitri. After lunch, don't be late." Though she is, of course, resigned to the fact that he will be late, if only to prove a point. Repercussions for that can come later; for now, she turns back to the trunks and begins flipping them open. It's time to break out the costumes.

… Only after, however, one more thing. WHIZZING back comes the stitched, leather ball that was thrown out earlier. By the time it enters the wagon again, Dimitri's RUNNING OFF. What'll he do until it's time to be fashionably late? WHO KNOWS. But it's not staying here to see the repercussions of his throw.

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