( closed ) chase music doesn't have convenient lyrics

[champions]

WHO: Marisol, Nikos, Kostos
WHAT: Nevar Gonna Run Around & Desert You Northern Powers assignment
WHEN: [ mumbles vaguely ]
WHERE: Nevarra
NOTES: mood

There isn’t a lot of time. The assignment had been informative. She would say it had gone well. Not smoothly, though, and it wouldn’t have gone well until they had all managed to get out of there alive.

She vaults onto the carriage with a grace that should not be possible when tightly bodiced and wearing a layered gown, but doing the impossible is practically her signature move. With a dramatic crack of the reins, the carriage starts forward, the four black horses surging forward.

It will help, certainly. That does not guarantee that their pursuers will not be close behind them, and she still needs to find Nikos and Kostos. Shortcuts will be necessary.

A sharp turn to the right, and the carriage bursts through a veritable wall of fresh produce, a rain of watermelons, oranges, berries, fruit of every kind. Bright colours splatter the ground, and even cabbages are trampled underfoot.

The race is on, as she guides the carriages towards the Anderfel ambassador’s estate.

Marisol is standing on the carriage, black hair streaming behind her, with a number of men on foot and on horseback in pursuit, and the knowledge that soon more will come. She grins, exhilarated.

Comments

boop-boop-boop wrong

[exsecutus]

"Stop it, stop touching me--"

Kostos grabbed a handful of cloak before Nikos even had opportunity to go--and it's a good thing that Marisol is the only witness; if it was anyone else, Nikos would kick shins and slash hands to get free, instead of just bitching.

He wrests himself free even as Marisol starts freeing horses. Crossbow bolts clatter and thud against the other side of the carriage--no relentless barrage, but enough that a point is made. Nikos shoves his hand under his sodden cloak, a man reaching for a talisman, except his version of a talisman is a compulsive gesture that makes double sure the documents are secure, before he vaults his arse onto a horse.

"It should have been horses in the first place--just horses, none of this showy, stupid--" The documents are, still, secure, because he is a professional. He can now turn his attention to horses--who are not saddled, bridled, brilliant, and he has never liked horses, mostly because they have never liked him. And he will inevitably be less graceful than Marisol, when he mounts up. She is very much that bitch, which Nikos thinks with a kind of sharp fondness.

Case and point: her offer to Kostos. Even under fire and with threats nipping at the wet heels of their boots, Nikos takes a moment to turn a look on his brother. There is real relish in the smirk that he turns on him.

"The legendary charity of an Antivan lady." Except, "Two silver says Kos would rather die."

With a grunt of effort, the use of the spokes of the nearest carriage-wheel as a boost, and only a little scrambling, Nikos pulls himself up into the saddle of his chosen horse. As expected, he paints a decidedly less graceful image, and his face is a little pink when manages to right himself and sit proper. It's only half his fault. All of the horses are nervous, shifting hooves and rolling eyes and wide nostrils snorting in this sweet Nevarran air.

always here to outdo everyone in that category

[exequy]

Something about Marisol—her resemblance to aunts and mothers and sisters, but more important her unflappable self—makes her someone that Kostos can't tell where to shove her charity, so it's convenient that Nikos immediately makes himself a target for that sentiment and then some.

"Fuck off."

Which is two silver for Nikos, if anyone is willing to honor it, and a horse for Kostos, who has never ridden bareback in his life but has ridden across Thedas and back in the last few years, and who's more limber and precise than he's ever been speedy or strong. Getting on is easy. Staying on will be the problem. He realizes that immediately, with the animal shifting and stomping, but there isn't time to reconsider trading his dignity for a better guarantee of survival, because it's about then that the guards in pursuit find their way outside, with swords.