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Soon enough, Arlen has packed everything Nior deems necessary, and Harin has secured his adventure kit/combat bindle. They are ready for adventure.
unmarred
"He's—" begins Nior, gesturing across the cavern; and then he stops, and frowns, and says, "not over there anymore, which he was five seconds ago."
unmarred
"He was here. I was paying attention. Then he wasn't. I don't know why or how. So: vanished, inexplicably."
don't-believe-in-fairies
"I'm not saying that you're wrong. I'm saying that- that doesn't happen. Unless it's just all the rage in Elannwy these days."
unmarred
"It hasn't happened. That we know of. But it did just now."
Pause.
"...I'm unsettled," he admits.
Pause.
"...I'm unsettled," he admits.
don't-believe-in-fairies
Harin sinks to the floor.
"You know, it's kind of hypocritical for me to say I don't believe in magic. Given my foster father could smell the color of my soul and my stepmother could take a river and use it to break down a stone wall. But I don't believe in fucking magic."
"You know, it's kind of hypocritical for me to say I don't believe in magic. Given my foster father could smell the color of my soul and my stepmother could take a river and use it to break down a stone wall. But I don't believe in fucking magic."
unmarred
Nior is staring at the estimated last known location of Ari as though it has personally offended him on the deepest imaginable level.
That patch of cave did not intend to offend Nior! It is simply a tool of the whims of the universe. Which currently include pine trees. And snow.
And a lamp post.
And a lamp post.
sonofsnow
"What," intones Arlen, "the fuck."
He decides to hang around the lamppost for a while. It's a recognizable landmark, if nothing else. Are there any people around?
Trotting - the word is 'trotting'; there are hooves - into the lamplight is a fellow against whom slurs about his ancestors' habits with livestock would be spectacularly well-motivated. He has an umbrella and some parcels and he has his tail looped over his elbow and he is very surprised to see Arlen. The parcels may be presumed not to have noticed Arlen's existence themselves but go flying into the air as a byproduct of the goatperson's own alarm.
sonofsnow
"Hullo! D'you happen to know where in the fuck I am?"
Arlen helps to gather packages. It's only polite.
Arlen helps to gather packages. It's only polite.
"Oh goodness! Oh goodness gracious!" says the goatperson. "You are, well, you are in Narnia. And what is it that you are in Narnia, are you a boy, that is, are you a human sort of creature?"
"Delightful," says the goatperson dubiously. "Delightful," he says again with more confidence. "I am a Faun and my name is Mr. Tumnus, it is entirely delightful to meet you, what might your name be?"
sonofsnow
"Arlen, Arlen Kallem, nice to meet you Mr. Tumnus. That is a very weird name, but you're very foreign, so I'll let it slide."
sonofsnow
"Uh... well, I was born in Welce. Then my mom died under mysterious circumstances and I got on a boat and ended up in some lost fantasy kingdom. And then I fell through the wall of some fucked-up cave and ended up here."