Characters involved are: Reoite (RED), Bart (ORANGE), Brin (GREEN), Sigurd (BLUE),
Logged by Brin

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Yggdrasil, Gun Room
As you enter this room, you are taken aback for a moment at the sheer spendor of this area. Lined in floor tiles resembling marble, this entire area has a noticeable aura of beauty and class. From here, you see a beautiful silver <stairway> leading down, the <Dining> Room, and the Maison's own <Counter>. An elaborate <doorway> leads out.
Contents:
Sigurd
Bart
Dart Board


As if this would help any, Bart comes through the door, a rather interesting smile on his face, as if he had found another weapon to name after himself. He doesen't quite notice Sig at first, otherwise he'd retreat into his shell. That's the kind of mood Bart's in around Sigurd lately. He wasn't necessarily enthusiastic about Sigurd's sudden backing off, you know.
The soft 'bell' and hydrolic sounds that always signalled the opening of the doors upstairs made Sigurd blink and look up at the ceiling, one hand still gently cradling his mud of cider on his bare stomach, his single blue eye blinking once. Had Maison forgotten something...? No... That was Bart. Oh come now, Sigurd, don't be so childish, settling even further into the couch and putting that book over your face to pretend you're sleeping. What kind of guardian avoids his charge, indeed! Bah, who cared. Bart had been giving him the cold shoulder as much as he'd been avoiding the boy, so maybe it was better this way. He couldn't, however, avoid keeping watch over him with his empathy... As much as he had been hurt, nothing would make him completely abandon the young Prince, not even God himself could break that bond, weak as it was right now. So lay there and listen, guardian, and make sure the boy didn't do anything else stupid.
Bart goes over to the counter, and grabs himself something to celebrate his latest breakthrough. It's so simple! Why didn't he think of his before. Well, his new whip is gonna be cracking on some Ft.Jasper heads. What? You actually thought it was something important? Give it up, Bart's excited about every new form of destruction that falls into his hands. Even if this is minor, it's his. -His-. He looks over and then, spots Sigurd. Watch his mood plummet like SaGa Frontier's popularity! He sighs, "Ugh."
Brin removed.
No sooner had this little exchange come to pass, but the door once again emits its familiar opening sound. Without a sound, Brin enters, with gentle steps, as if he were more used to leaving no footfall whatsoever. And so it is, for his dreaming state has left an impression, if only mental, on this, his fully awake state, as he spots Bart across the room, nodding as he advances.
Bart looks behind him, "Oh, Brin! Hey!" what a great mood Bart seems to be in, but i'm sure you're sick of me beating it over your head, aren't you? "Whats up? Anything happening outside today? I hope not. I've got stuff to do, and they can't spoil it by making the first move," he takes a sip of his drink.
Brin grins slightly. Nice to see someone in a good mood for a change. Or someone who isn't changing shape every few minutes. Still, the evening is young. "Not that I know of. I've been sticking to the streets of Nisan when I -do- go out. It seems quiet enough..." he muses. o 0 ( ...People walk around with one eye on where they're going, and one eye on the Jasper, but apart from the unbearable tension, it's like a holiday... ). Brin remembers to say the auiet part quiet this time, as he advances toward the smiling Bart, beginning to smile and open up after his long sojourn to the dream.
Bart has connected.
Bart has disconnected.
Brin added.
Lay quietly, maybe he won't see you. That was Sigurd's logic at any rate, as he just stayed put on the couch, feeling his warm cider loose its heat steadily, much to his irritation, but pay it no mind. If he got up, Bart would notice him and then the downward spiral would begin again.... And the boy felt so happy today too. No, he desided, he couldn't bring himself to spoil his charge's mood, cold cider or not. Just lay and listen.
Bart takes another sip of his drink, "Hm. Well, I really have to go get a paper I left around here, just a sec!" he puts his glass down and starts heading DOWN THE STAIRS towards the LOWER AREA. Right on the table next to Sigurd's also happens to be the paper in question. Isn't it funny how quirky fate can be? Let's fateful meetings!
Brin nods at the slightly hurried bart, and goes to lean at the railing that leads down to the lower area. Spotting Sigurd before Bart does, he nods a greeting, and his eyes raise a little to follow Bart's progress down the stairs, as the two meet.
Would have been lovely if Sigurd could see Brin, but that book over his face prevented it..... Instead, he lifted the book a little as he heard Bart's less than gracefoot footsteps descend the staircase, breathing a silent sigh. Here we go, too late to hide now. Lowering the book again and faking a relaxed dozing between chapters, he murmurs a light, "Good evening, Young Master."
Bart suddenly stops, you can almost see a "mood meter" suddenly smash to pieces. Bart's face kinda reflects this. "Oh. Hi," he says tersely enough, he walks over to the table and grabs his latest notes. "I got it," he says, less than enthusiastically this time, to Brin. He tries to phase out the existence of Sigurd right now. He's in a GOOD MOOD, he doesen't need this. This is not the Happy end!
The almost audible shatter of Bart's mood pervades the entire room, and Brin, ever observant, notices a certain...tension between the two. Their little exchange has all the hallmarks of a recent argument. These things sort themselves out. Best not to even mention it. He muses lightly "What is it you're working on?..." as Bart speaks to him, and nods again at the now-debooked Sigurd. "Sigurd...".
A light wave was offered now to Brin, but not the usual smile that usually accompanied Sigurd's greetings. Great, was just the sight of him enough to set the Young Master off now? Folding the page he had been on, Sigurd set the book aside and slowly sat up so as not to spill the cider he was holding. "Yes, what is it you're working on, Young Master? Maison mentioned you seemed stressed lately." Gentle, kind words, but he felt like being anywhere but here, anything but kind and patient. He wanted to burn something, damnit. Hn. Blame one too many Elemental dreams. "I do hope you aren't pushing yourself."
Bart stops for a moment, looking back at Sigurd over his shoulder, "Oh, just stuff. You know, small things, like saving my second home from our family death castle," he starts up the stairs, shrugging, "Maison says i'm working too hard every time I lift more than one finger at once, seriously," he shrugs.
Brin regards the two, remaining silent for now. Whatever argument they'd had, he couldn't see it lasting long. At least they were still talking. People can be so irrational at times. He would pursue this further, but something else now demands his attention. His sleeve has begun to writhe, and it complains, with a low growl. Of course, wouldn't you, if your air supply had been cut off by someone leaning against a railing like that? He leans back from the railing apologetically, and his sleeve straightens again, as a small bundle half-falls, half-leaps to the floor.
Dropped.
Reoite lands with a low hiss, regarding Brin with a cold stare. Cut off _my_ air supply, wouldya? I oughta... He deftly leaps onto the railing, and luxuriously steps along it, slowly...
Why don't you just hit him with that new whip of yours, Bart, it'd hurt less. Sigurd froze midway through getting up to look at the young blonde like he had done just that. Repeatedly. His expression detrayed nothing, however, as Sigurd sank back down onto the couch, cradling his cider in his lap.... but there was something in his gaze. Anger, pain... A burning blue wildfire that threatened to break the tight leash the First Mate had it on. "That was... unnecessary, Young Master. You are over reacting, as usual and it's very inappropriate." Soft, too soft maybe.... Barts words may mean very little to Brin, but Bart knew damn well that he was tearing open old wounds and rubbing salt in them. This was beyond just being in disagreement over Sigurd's actions. And vaguely, Sigurd notes the cat, but not much attention was given. He didn't remember it.
Bart closes his eyes, and shakes his head, "Overreacting? Naw, really?" he leaves it at that and looks at Brin. "Do you want anything? I can make something since Maison's not around. Just drinks though, I don't feel like cooking anything," because when you cook something you end up burning down the Gun Room.
Brin looks a bit perturbed, but responds nonetheless. "Well, if it's no inconvenience, just water will do fine. Er, actually, if you have any milk?..." he mentions, looking down at Reoite, who remains frozen, like an arch on the thin railing. Strange how the two seemed to just gravitate toward each other, as if their coming together was perhaps predestined. Still, sometimes Brin wishes the real Reoite were a bit less like the dreaming Reoite, and hopes he can be counted on to behave.
As if in cue, Reoite hops down from the railing, skips, as well as a cat may manage, toward Bart, and begins rubbing his leg. This one will be spared. So long as the milk is forthcoming...
Sigurd grits his teeth silently, his grip going whiteknuckled around the mug he held. That... that... -Brat-! But no, he wouldn't get mad at him, not in public, if Brin and Reoite's company was to be considered public. Let the boy make a fool of himself. Finally standing, Sigurd looked up at Bart and Brin, finally offering a little smile, but it's usual gentleness was absent. "Young Master, I believe there's some milk still. I can make the pair of you a small dinner if you would like?" Extend the offer... /-Try- to get along, Bart. Please don't push me away./
Bart has disconnected.
Bart has connected.
Sigurd grits his teeth silently, his grip going whiteknuckled around the mug he held. That... that... -Brat-! But no, he wouldn't get mad at him, not in public, if Brin and Reoite's company was to be considered public. Let the boy make a fool of himself. Finally standing, Sigurd looked up at Bart and Brin, finally offering a little smile, but it's usual gentleness was absent. "Young Master, I believe there's some milk still. I can make the pair of you a small dinner if you would like?" Extend the offer... /-Try- to get along, Bart. Please don't push me away./
Bart sighs, rolling his eyes. "Maybe Brin wants something, i've already eaten earlier," he looks down for a moment, and turns around slowly. ".......," something then comes out that's completely unexpected to him, "....Thanks, though," he then goes to walk out the door, wondering just what to think at all.
Bart has disconnected.
Brin spoofs: Brin's gaze follows bart out the door, and his hurried exit, his body language says everything. One does not need to be an empath to learn...certain things. He turns to Sigurd, and gives what he thinks is a sympathetic look. Knowing now full well that he can't hide a lot from Sigurd for some reason, and feeling that he might obtain a less impetuous response, he speaks. "I...I'm sorry if I intruded on any private matter. Sometimes, these things need to be sorted out among just yourselves...". No judgement, no condemnation, Brin's statement is almost apologetic in its nature, as he leans agains the railing again. "No, I'm fine. Please don't trouble yourself."
Sigurd sighs quietly as he sinks back down onto the couch, rubbing the heel of one hand against his good eye. "It's alright, Brin. I'm sorry about his behavior. He misinterpreted my actions and has been holding it against me. He'll get over it when the stress dies down." Not any time soon then, it seemed. Wonderful. Frowning, he let his arm drop to rest across his lap as he looked at the book he'd been reading. If only reality ended as 'happily ever after'.... If only.... "I'm sorry for the trouble...." It was all he could offer, and just hope it was good enough.
Brin just nods. "These things happen. Soon, it will all be forgotten, I'm sure...". He looks down...and Reoite is nowhere to be seen. Anything that might have to be apologised for is forgotten, not that it would, but Brin is now walking about the upper floor, looking puzzledly around. "Hm. Reoite appears to have diappeared. Is he down there with you?". No greate urgency enters Brin's voice, it is merely a curiosity, as he peers around a corner of the railing.
Sigurd lifts his head with a curious "Eh?" Reoite. That cat with Brin? Quickly, he glanced around, then looked up to Brin with a faint shrug. "Maybe he followed the Young Master out....?"
Brin smirks lightly to himself. Knowing Reoite, Bart has probably irritated him somehow, and is being pinned down somewhere having his eyes scratched out. Metaphorically speaking, of course. If Reoite had been born a tiger, he'd be a very dangerous beast indeed. Still, not wanting to leave Bart at the mercy of that self-proclaimed master of the multiverse, Brin begins to make for the door. "You must excuse me. Just checking if he's bothering anyone. I'll be back..." he sighs, as he gives a hurried wave, and disappears through the door, which closes behind him with a soft whoosh.