When bored and searching for entertainment on a dull and dreary, all too human Friday, what does a rainbow Trickster do?
Why, Kipnap a hapless young hunk of muscle, that's what!
And a James, since he happened to be nearby.
The pretext for their incipient trip into the Hedge is to acquire some useful goblin fruits for the Freehold, so, with that in mind, when she learns of the decided lack of arms or armour, she detours first onto the Looptrod, driving them up to the Miller place and heading in through the gate by the riverbank, then along the trods to Stoneheart for both of them to acquire gear.
For someone as willowy-pretty as she is, she sure seems competent enough with gearing up for physical trouble. Should either of the boys ask, she will cite Clio as the reason why.
Next, once everyone has at least SOME form of physical weaponry, whatever it may be, even if it's just a dagger for Kip, November leads the two back out onto the trods, through the cave and back out to the mortal world north of the Miller place, thence to travel off onto the east bank and through a hedge gate she creates between two trees' arching branches and trunks.
She seems to have SOME destination in mind, though she asks the gentlemen to keep an eye out for any early blushberries they might find along the way...
James goes along with it. Pretty November is pretty, and scary, and he's over-eager to explore the hedge, to be quite honest. Better to go with company, right? The weapons? He chooses a sword that he doesn't look like he really knows how to handle. But hey, he looks cool, right?
Once on the way, he's looking for what? Blushberries. There's several iterations of 'Is this it?' with no joy before he finally gives up and just follows along with the others. He's a bit jumpy, a bit over-cautious and looking around with big eyes, taking it all in.
Kip does have a dagger! And surprisingly, he actually knows which end of it to hold. It's tucked into his waist for the moment, however, leaving his hands free to pull his ridiculously in need of a haircut length hair out of his face, looping the bangs part and some of the top into a ponytail. He's not exactly dressed for adventuring, being that he was Kipnapped, but his usual garb of black denim pants, a sweater over a novelty t-shirt that he doesn't understand, a jacket and his Converse isn't the /worst/ someone could wear. He does have his usual leather messenger bag slung across his chest, the pack part of it bouncing against his hip as he walks. He's not overly stealthy. He's best at stealth when he's not moving through unfamiliar terrain. "Uh blushberries?" he echoes to her as he peers into the surroundings as he looks. At least he took his hands out of the pockets he'd shoved them into, helping him pick his way through the edge of the pathway carefully as he looks. Forest for the trees, Kip. Maybe look around at the entire whole and how very /interesting/ your surroundings are? Maybe? For once? He does, actually. In a belated sort of way, he stops in his tracks and looks around, his eyes moving more than his head does. "Huh."
The deeper into the Hedge they go, the stranger it gets, pockets of land marked by seasons which don't quite match the early Spring they left behind. Repeatedly, paths which -were- there a moment before are -not- there a few steps later, the Hedge leading them down twisting, labyrinthine trod after trod in response to November's clarity of thought.
Who'd have thunk a lady who believes she's a deity would have a decent grasp on THAT?
"Hsst." The rainbow Ancient lifts a hand in a fist, signaling for them to stop, and quickly steps to the side of the trod to hide, beckoning for the men to follow.
James scurries after November, sword out awkwardly to defend against whatever horror November might be having them hide against. He whispers, "What is it? Is it bad?"
Kip's head turns a little toward James, mouth opening as if to say something, but he stops short and his forehead furrows. It's just a matter of where he's standing probably, because he doesn't seem to be any more on the ball than James. Or maybe appearances are deceiving? He's already stopped just a nanosecond before November signals, but it does take him a moment to follow along to the hidey hole she's located. A finger raises to his lips in response to James. "Heard something," he says in what is a clear whisper. Kip's voice is usually a whispery one, but this is barely more than a scratchy hint of words on his breath. He motions the finger slightly in the direction of where he heard it come from and tilts his head to watch November. Otherwise, he's strangely still. As if he's experienced in it.
The snuffling shuffling sound gets louder, along with some deeper grunting. Dragging what appears to be a dragonfly-winged hob of some kind, unconscious or deceased, a great big troll-like hob with a grossly slimy, leaking nose coarsely scrubs the back of his warty wrist across his upper lip, then pauses near the changelings' hiding place to let out a startlingly loud ACHOOOOOOO!!!
...and splat a jiggling, revolting wad of bogies and phlegm onto the trod.
November remains hidden, watching the disgusting sneeze!
James hunkers down. He's a Wizened, and used to hiding. He's even pretty good at it. He does have to hold back a gag when the troll sneezes, but he manages to stifle most of the noise from it.
Kip's face scrunches up a little as the hob comes closer, eyes peeking over the edge of the hiding spot to see. Unlike James, Kip doesn't hold back his gag when the sneeze causes mucus and glop to go flying, landing too close for Kip's comfort. Because anywhere in a ten mile radius is too close for the Electrobro's comfort. He makes the gag face so hard that it's almost comedic and a little bit of a throaty choke sound accompanies it.
The hob, reddened eyes leaking oddly orange-tinted tears over his dirty, green-brown cheeks, fiercely snuffles and scrubs at his face again, staring at the jiggling gelatinous heap of nose-goo on the trod. A small moan comes from the dragonfly-winged hob, proving that it's still alive, but the troll reaches back to give its head a meaty *thump!* of a whack with the side of his big fist -- and pauses.
He scratches his head with blunt nails, and says something in a foreign language while staring at where Kip gagged, but it sounds like a question.
Wait, what's that sound? Something crinkling, rustling...
It's the sound of a cat made of paper. Said paper cat has just padded up to the group and sits down on his back haunches directly between Kip and James. He watches the hob and the troll with great big yellow eyes.
James elbows Kip with mild annoyance, but tries to maintain his stealth mode all the same, at least until the troll decides if it's going to add them to his haul for the day. And then there's that cat, and James puts his finger to his lips in a hushing motion before looking around to see if another electric Lost is wandering around nearby.
Despite being the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd, Kip does not seem to know whatever language the hob uses. He does his best to remain still, which is actually a very good attempt considering, and he slooowly turns his head toward the paper cat that he clearly doesn't associate with the other Electrobro, at least not yet. Oh no. No no no. Paper rustles. Crinkles. Makes sound. Kip motions his hand to shoo it. He can't really do much else, and turning his head enough to look for November to maybe take a cue from her is out of the question since it means really /moving/ his head. And he's trying not to. He doesn't even react much to the elbow that James nudges into him other than to lift his eyebrows in a 'dude, what am I supposed to do? I didn't mean to gag. Be glad I didn't puke or scream' kind of expression.
The hob sniffs, or, well. He tries to sniff. He ends up snuffling, and then, when that elicits a moist wad of phlegm flying back exactly where nobody wants it, coughing to hork that one out, too, and more, slimy drool dripping out over fat lips and protruding, boar-like teeth.
He stomps over toward Kip when Kip doesn't reveal himself, pointing at the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd and snapping something in that strange language again. Then, running eyes squinting down at Kip, he struggles a moment, cold-addled brain taking a bit to provide the required details. "Hooman?"
A cat made out of paper is nothing unusual, so he ignores that entirely.
And what of the electrobro Wizened who belongs to the paper cat? Indeed, he's here -- he appears on the other side of the trod. The hob-troll's back is now to him. C.B. is resplendent in full army-navy store type gear today, as he often is in the Hedge: cam pants, dog tags, an army jacket, Korean jungle boots, an army-style backpack. He stares at the others, including Yossarian, with some alarm. In his right hand is a strange-looking old revolver, all green and patina'd from age, and he readies it, blue-silver eyes wide and slightly crazed looking.
Kip's adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, trying not to make pukey-gag sounds at the hob. He slides a couple of steps to the side along the spot where he's pressed himself up against, but it's not like he's trying to get away or anything. If anything, he's maybe... moving himself between the hob and James in hopes that James isn't also noticed even though hey, James is already stepped out of hiding and holding his sword. But Kip isn't watching him, his attention is focused on the hob. He doesn't even yet realize that there's an Electrobro in the vicinity. "Uh-- sort of? I mean are you ... /looking/ for one?" he ventures quietly.
November, quite exceptionally hidden, is both camouflaged by chameleon-like Colors and the shadows of Smoke, and remains so, for the time being, waiting to see how Kip handles the situation.
Pity Kip can't see her smile.
--
As for the hob, he scratches his head at Kip, then seems to make a connection when James steps out, too, though he doesn't seem overly concerned about the sword. Given that he's about eight feet tall and close to five feet wide, he may have reason. Expression brightening, he declares a clumsy, "Chigling!" and mimics a collar around his neck, yanking at it and pointing deeper into the Hedge like, is this you?
Catching a glimpse of C.B. behind him, he casually thumps the dragonfly-winged hob on the head again when it starts to moan, and waves a slimy, mucous-covered hand at him in greeting.
Scowling, C.B. waves back at the hob with his gun, which he most decidedly does not put away, but also doesn't point at the troll. "Whatcha got /there/, compadre?" He takes a step closer, nodding to the dragonfly-winged hob, then giving the big guy a deranged sort of grin that shows off his bad teeth. In the meantime, he stares over at the other two guys, maybe trying to get them on board? Or just being weird, whichever comes first.
James looks confused when the troll seems...friendly-ish. He shoots Kip, and then CB a quizzical look, but quickly gets on board with CB's attitude, giving the troll a charming smile, showing off his own nasty chompers. "That's right, buddy."
Uuuuuuuuh... Does Kip make that sound or just /look/ that sound?
"Uhm, yeah," is the nerd's drawled out response before he cranes his neck to the side to look over at-- "Alexander? Seriously dude?" Hob is forgotten for a second as he takes in the fact that the anti-Kip-like-Electrobro is also present. Of course, Kip still has that crackle of anxiety to him in both body language and voice. A hand goes up absently to his head to fuss with his ponytailed hair in an awkward sort of way. "Just passing through. Don't let us get in the way." He pauses a moment and then the hand drops to go shoving itself into his pocket again where he pulls out a to-go pack of kleenex, drawing one out and holding it halfheartedly out into the air. "Tissue?"
The troll, confused at first by C.B.'s language, looks down at the dragonfly-winged hob, then up at him, jerking on the hob's arm to yank it closer. "My!" he scowls, quite fiercely, the expression somewhat less intimidating due to the white-green string of snot starting to ooze down onto his upper lip. He snorfles that up, then horks out another gelatinous wad of ick onto the trod.
James gets a vaguely confused look, and Kip gets...a deeply confused look. "Tshoo?"
"Are you /sure/?" C.B. takes another step closer. "Looks a little small for ya, big guy. What are you planning on doing with him?" This is considerably more 'diplomatic' than C.B. would usually be in such a situation, but maybe he's not itching for a fight. Yet.
Kip's hands both go up a little, tissue still clutched in one of them. "Uh, yours. Not mine. Yours," he agrees as he nods his head slightly toward the poor dragonfly-hob in his clutches. He puts the tissue up to his nose and makes a blowing sound to mimic what it's used for and then holds it back out a bit. Nice and slow. Kip is clearly not FREAKING TERRIFIED. Wait, yes he is.
"It's a tissue. For... snot." He pauses and sort of sidesteps just a tiny bit. Yeah, maybe C.B. can take the attention off him and he can, you know, slip past. Though where he'll go he has no idea. And he's realistic. He knows he probably won't make it away unseen even with his awkward slinking off motion he's about to start.
James watches the two electro-bros attempt to woo the troll in their very own way. Hanging back for the moment, eyes narrowed as he watches the troll with a cunning, deep look.
The troll, scowling at C.B. again, snorfles against his arm to wipe away some snot, then smears more off on the side of his rough fabric trousers, reaching into his sleeveless shirt to pull out a piece of what looks like vellum. It has a bunch of scribbles on it in another language, along with a very detailed, realistic drawing of the dragonfly hob and an official stamp. The dragonfly seems to be making a particularly rude gesture. He thrusts that out where C.B. can see it, then shoves it back into his shirt. "My!" The unconscious hob just dangles limply in his grasp.
When Kip attempts to explain the purpose of a 'tshoo' to him, realisation causes light to dawn, and the troll enthusiastically grabs for the tiny piece of soft paper.
Unfortunately for Kip, the troll doesn't really understand just HOW delicate tissue IS... Happily facing Kip, he BLOOOOOOWWS his nose -- and blows out that tissue like, well, a tissue meant for human lung capacity, not hob. The gelatinous, slimy mess ends up spraying all over the place, and some of that 'all over' is Kip-ward. The now-dripping tissue is happily offered back to Kip, with a grateful look for the gift.
C.B. is sans glasses at the moment, so he has to squint to read those words. But he can read /any/ words, when he wants to, and these are no exception. "Huh. So you won him. Well, it's still slavery, soooo..."
Before C.B. can go and get all self-righteous, though, Kip has just gotten covered in hob snot. Against all odds, considering how grumpy C.B. usually is, he BURSTS out laughing. So much so that his face turns brilliant red and lightning sparks from his ears and from his hands.
James moves quickly to side-step away from Kip when he sees the inevitable about to happen, trying hard to keep himself out of snot range. He scoots closer to CB, trying to read the note, squinting a bit, "What's it say? Can you read that? Looks like gibberish to me." When CB elaborates, he frowns a little, leaning on his sword like it's a walking stick. "He won it?" He seems to take pity on Kip, rather than finding it amusing, and spares the poor fellow a second person mocking him.
Kip, now dripping more or less even though that's kind of an exaggeration but it's how he /feels/, just stands perfectly still for a moment before his hands both go up again and he shakes his head. "Uh, you can uh-- you can keep it," he says before using a hand to brush across his face to make sure there's no snot there. But of course there is so the hand gets as sticky-coated with hob snot splatters as the rest of him. The epic gag face makes a return appearance. "It's a gift." Yeah. Gift. Keep it. Kip does not want it back.
Kip also snarks under his breath, "It's not /funny/, Alexander."
The troll, since these three have been such upstanding fellows, clutches the now-soggy 'tshoo' close to his chest as though he won a prize, then fishes around in his pockets. Debts must be repaid, after all.
After a bit of searching, he comes up with a baby vileshrike skull, which he eagerly thrusts toward Kip. If Kip doesn't take it, he sets it down in -front- of Kip, then hefts the unconscious hob up over his shoulder to turn away and start thumping his way off down the trod again, a hand pointing up at the sky through the tangled canopy overhead. "Go go, I go."
C.B. wipes his eyes, trying to catch his breath so he can answer James. "I can read anything, James." A bit of a boast from the ElectroWizened? Maybe. He's proud of this particular ability. "It says that Tall, Dark and Snotty here bought this little guy when the dragonfly cheated at a market. I still don't think that's cool, but..." When Kip calls him out, he starts laughing all over again, showing just what he thinks of Kip's snarkery. When the hob says he's going to go? C.B. sobers up a bit, squinting at him like he's trying to decide what to do.
James doesn't love the whole idea of some creature being bought and sold, and CB /did/ say it was slavery. He hesitates, wondering quietly, "Should we...uh...do something about that?" He's still fairly unsure of hedge-side etiquette, and from the look he gives the dragonfly thing, he's clearly not sure if it's even sentient enough to be worth the effort. "I mean, we could probably convince him to give it up?"
November, still hidden, takes it upon herself to sneak about past Kip, albeit not quite as exceptionally sneakily as she had hidden herself before. Alas.
--
As for the troll, he either didn't hear or didn't understand James's question, hauling the dragonfly hob off, fireman style, over his shoulders and thump thump thumping his way around the next turn of the wild labyrinth.
C.B. squints at James, then dashes around to try and cut the troll off at the pass before he disappears. "Hey, hey, big guy. How much for the man with the wings?" He points to the dragonfly hob and then rubs his thumb and forefinger together. "What'll you take for him? I got..." He opens his backpack and peers inside, pulling out the first thing he finds -- several hand-rolled cigarettes. "What about /these/?"
James follows CB, offering a friendly smile to the troll, "Yeah, buddy. I think I may have some antihistamines that could help you out with that cold." He gets that discerning look again, eyeing the troll up and down, sizing him up as he tries to figure out the best way to get that dragonfly off him.
Kip doesn't care about trying to get the hob to do anything. The dragonfly-hob's problem is not currently /his/ problem. He's still trying to de-goo himself as best he can, using a hand to scrape off the globs of snot and shake them off to the ground. He at least tries his best to avoid the skull he was gifted, finally bending to pick it up and inspect it for a moment before tucking it away into his messenger bag. The little to-go package of tissues is pulled back out and he tugs one out to use to wipe his face and then a second one for his hands. Gross. "Oh, are we doing this now?" he mumbles about the trading. "I got uhm..." he has books. And he's not going to trade them. "I got nothing." He peers around to see where the embodiment and personification of rainbows and Wyrd got off to before looking back at the hob and the others. "Uh, C.B.? What're you gonna do with him if you /get/ him?" he murmurs.
The troll, confused, listens to C.B., then looks at the smaller hob he's carrying. The cigarettes get a puzzled look, then a snotty shake of his head and a frustrated groping for words. He says a few nonsensical things, then brightens. "For ssta! Sis? Sista?" He points at the dragonfly hob, then .. well, crude hip motions ensue as he casually moves to hump the nearest tree trunk, then points at the dragonfly-winged hob again. "For sista!"
Still watching C.B., he points at C.B., then humps the tree again like, hey, do YOU want to be my sister's new friend? Or James? He points at James, like obviously C.B. owns James and can say he's selling him.
November, still difficult to see, steps out of hiding a bit past Kip, having avoided the snotty mess, and lightly asks the bookworm, "How are you enjoying your trip?" with all the casual aplomb of, well, a member of the gentry. Lowercase g, thank you much, though even so, her posture states without a single word spoken that she simply expects the world to order itself to her preferences. That IS the natural order of things.
James rubs his eyes and mutters, "Oh boy. That's...not what I was hoping for." But then he straightens up, his Wizened scowll fading away to serious-all business confidence. "Listen, my friend. I can totally understand. You're a family man. You love your sister. I get it, I have a sister myself. I'd do anything for her." He smiles, moving around to make sure he's face on with the Troll, and can gesticulate as needed to make sure that his argument is as clearly understood as possible. "But one thing I've learned, my friend, is no sister...no /woman/ likes to have her love life interfered with. I tell you what.." He pulls out a string around his neck with a pendant on the end, some kind of strange, gross lump of leather that exudes that 'token' appeal. "Jewelry, that's what the women want. If you want to make your sister happy, give her some bling, and she'll be flashy enough to get her own man, the perfect fellow /she/ wants. Right? Now, whatd'ya say we trade? This beautiful little sparkle for that...charming suitor?"
C.B. rubs a hand over his face. "Oh for fuck's..." He lets out a loud sigh and starts rummaging around in his backpack again, although he abruptly stops when James starts pouring on the persuasion. Then he starts up again, pulling out a shiny chrome megaphone that appears to have a color-changing inside. He waves it at James and mutters, "For backup." He catches glimpse of November and sighs again, rolling his eyes. "It figures."
Kip is still attacking his clothing with the tissues he pulls from the pack as he steps a few steps closer to the gang, pausing only long enough to give November a glare over his shoulder. How did he let her talk him into this? go to the Hedge, she said. pick some fruit, she said. it'll be FUN, she said. "Yeah, girls like jewelry," he points out. "Which is why I've been saving up for a ri-- thing." Yeah. Thing. He's not really looking up or paying much attention as he takes those slow meandering steps forward and rubs at his clothing, leaving tissue dust all over his sweater. It's clearly /not/ an attempt to avoid eye contact with a certain Electrobro or anything.
The troll is dubious at first, and it's unclear just how many of James's words he's really understanding, but as the oozy schmoozy lawyerishness continues, it's clear his resolve is wavering, watering eyes going from the dragonfly hob to James, to the hob, to James, in increasingly indecisive attitude.
The troll is just starting to sling the dragonfly off of his shoulder when he notices November and, well, suffice it to say that James REALLY won his argument. The troll delicately sets the dragonfly hob down, all but shrinks in on himself, and babbles something deferential.
November, accepting the changed circumstances with a flicker of mild irritation -- she was -talking- with -Kip- -- replies in the same gabble of a language, and gestures vaguely at James before swapping to English to tell Kip, "We haven't even reached the pool yet. Are you good at swimming? You look like you could be strong enough."
The troll, suddenly eager to accept James's offer, grabs for the gross lump of leather and bobs his head in an awkward bow to the whole group, shuffling backward around the turn with a great gobbet of snot beginning to ooze down over his lip. Shuffleshuffle. Thump thump thump thump thump!!
Sounds like someone couldn't wait to get the heck out of Dodge.
James slumps back to his normal slouch, looking as if he almost instantly regrets his choices. The Troll gets a forlorn look as he retreats, and the dragonfly dude a scowl. "Guess I can just piss people off the normal way," he mutters to himself. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he shakes his head and sighs heavily, turning to CB expectantly, "So what do we do with this fucker now?" November and Kip, for the moment, are ignored, as much as anyone can ignore a Goddess and an electro-snot monster.
C.B. /does/ squint over at Kip, briefly. "A ring for /whom/, Kip? Blow-up dolls aren't really marriage material." And after the troll runs off, C.B. glances at James. "Fucking lawyers," he comments, though more under his breath than to James directly. He looks down at the hob and sighs. Yossarian (remember him?) stalks over and sniffs at the guy. "Well, I /was/ going to leave him here..." He grumbles to himself, squatting down and rummaging in his backpack again for some blushberries, which he will try and force into the hob's mouth.
Owlish blink blink. blink. blink. It's focused on C.B. Alexander as Kip tries to do his very level best to look completely and utterly naive and innocent. "I don't-- have... dolls," he mentions a bit awkwardly. "I didn't... I mean things. Girls like things. I was just agreeing." November is given a glance and he's maybe not sure if he should thank her for breaking the akward spiral he started down. "Swimming? I uhm... don't know." He squints a little in thought. "Maybe? I don't know if I ever learned." He pushes a hand through his goop-coated hair that hangs down over his ear, the bangs part still pulled back. "Fine, imgonnaaskminatomarryme. Happy?" Wait, is he /back/ on that conversation again? "And we didn't even find those berry things we came to look for."
November, for her part, flashes C.B. a perfectly friendly smile -- though SEEING it may be a bit of trouble when she's both the colour of her surroundings AND oddly obscured.
She also reaches into a pocket and hands Kip a frilly pink lace handkerchief which looks like it could do double duty as lingerie if someone added a few strings. She mimics rubbing his face with it, then waits to be sure he does so. "Gewgaw," she adds, in an effort to prove that she is being helpful, not just attempting to embarrass him more than he has already managed on his own.
--
The hob, after having berries jammed down his face, takes maybe thirty seconds or so to fight his way up to full consciousness, woozily giving C.B. a crooked smile and a sloppy leer. "'sfunny," he slurs. "Y'don't LOOK like a girl..."
James just kind of lurks over CB's shoulder, ready to fight the dragonfly thing, or more likely run away, if he proves to be more troublesome than the troll. He scowls when it wakes up and responds to the circumstances in that particular way, making a frustrated noise and turning to November and Kip, "This has turned into a shitshow. How...how do we get outta here?"
C.B. actually rolls his eyes at November. Imagine! Rolling his eyes at a goddess! The nerve! As for Kip, C.B. ignores most of his babble until that /long/ stream of stuff, and then he just -- stops. "You're going to /what/?
He's so perplexed and irritated that just pushes the hob right back down into the dirt. "Who the hell even asked you! And you're welcome!" He looks more than ready to leave. Yossarian, meanwhile, seems to be doing his best to /not/ be helpful. Cats, man.
Kip's fingers do that de-gooping wiggle thing before he finds a somewhat clean spot on his pants to wipe the hand off onto. "What?" he asks as he glances up when C.B. spits out that question. He looks blank again. "I-- I mean /someday/. I didn't mean... today. But isn't that what everyone thinks I should do?" Oh yeah, this is not how this conversation is supposed to go. In the Hedge. Goddessfriend on one side, hob on the other, covered in snot. It's then that he takes the handkerchief with a slightly uncertain expression before she explains. Oh. Okay. "Thanks," is mumbled, and he seems sincere. He carefully wipes at his face before using it to squish-clean between his two hands as he continues. "I have no idea how to get out. I know we came from that way. But I've found it's not always as easy as all that. Not that I spent much time in here. Paige used to make me come along sometimes. I hated it. I guess it's not /that/ bad though."
Thankfully, November accepts C.B.'s casual disrespect with, well, no craziness. She -laughs-, sure, and it's a decidedly fey sound, a bit too true, a bit too free, but it's a .. merry. Merry is a good word. Good-natured, friendly.
The gewgaw handkerchief, as Kip uses it, neatly removes any and all dirt and traces of troll snot, and never seems to get dirty, itself.
Because of course a Fairest would create a magical cleaning cloth. I mean, she's a FAIREST.
To James, when asked, she admits, "I had hoped we would make it a bit farther, but you two -have- had quite the exciting afternoon..." Turning to Kip, she gestures back the way they came. "You may lead us home." She even flutters frosty lashes in a playful, but patently false attempt at looking charming.
--
The hob, meanwhile, rolls over and slowly rubs at his head, moving his mouth as if to rid it of a bad taste. When he sees November, there's an immediate flash of anxiety and a scramble up to his feet, then a just as sudden relaxation, though uneasiness lingers. "Where's tall broad an' snotty?" Just in case, he asks C.B. and James, not the uncomfortably close to Faerie rainbow over there with sneeze-boy.
James watches November for a long moment, enamoured of her laughter, but then shakes his head and looks back to the hob when it speaks, "I bought your papers of indenture." He lets that hang for a long moment, just long enough that the hob might worry about what kind of master he's gotten into now, before adding sourly, "So probably get out of here, before I decide slavery sounds like a good racket to get into." Then he looks to the others, clearly eager to be getting out of the hedge.
"Not me," C.B. tells Kip. Emphatically. But he takes that as his cue. He bends down and picks up Yossarian, who does not look happy about being cradled in the Wizened's skinny arms. "I'm leaving. See you suckers on the other side." He begins to head down the trod without another glance backwards. The nerve of some people.
After fixing C.B. with a long look in response to his words, Kip finally turns and nods to November. "Uh yeah, I-- will lead the way," he mumbles a bit uncertainly before holding out the strangly non-soiled hankie. He glances at C.B. again as he walks away, apparently making a mental note to go talk to him later. "You have a good idea," is mentioned to James, even though November also said to leave. He clearly thinks they're both smart for the wanting to GTFO. It's been an eventful enough day for him. He seems to belatedly remember that he has that dagger, adjusting it in his waistband like he's preparing himself mentally and physically for the walk back. As for November's laugh? Kip enjoys it and lets it prod him along. "You know, I let you talk me into this and completely forgot I came to talk to you for a /reason/. But it can wait. So James, you weren't... serious were you? About rethinking your stance on hob slavery?"
The hob doesn't need to be told twice! He sidles off as quickly as possible, never quite putting his back to November, and disappears around a bend in the trod far more soundlessly than the troll had done.
November accepts the handkerchief and tucks it away, then points out to Kip, sotto voce, that, "You'll want to focus on your destination, lovely. The Hedge isn't like walking down a regular hiking trail; it's your will, your own desires, that it reads to shape the paths it leads you to. If you know where you want to get, you can get there. You do need a good memory of it to follow, though. Just knowing a name is all but useless."
"And that's what gets me lost every damn time," Kip grumps. Though that every damn time has been the whole one other time he's tried to lead the way out and it ended up taking twice as long as it should have. Or more. Focus, huh? Focus. Foooocuuuus. He stops and puts a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose for a long moment as he clears his head and fills it with destination thoughts. He breathes in and then out. In. out. Then he removes his hand and drops it back to his side. "Alright. So it's... there." He absently sort of motions in a direction and starts plodding along that way.
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