joegoda | BagsNPockets; Intermission's over...

Harv appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, looking wan and pale. "Is he..."

"He's alive." said Bags. "He's pretty bad off, but he's alive." His voice was still choked with emotion, and his face was frozen and cold. "This is not a good thing, Harv, not a good thing at all."

"I know." Knowing that Pockets was not dead made him braver, and he came into the kitchen. He looked at Bags, holding the still body of Pockets in his arms. "I thought he would be taller, from the way you talked about him."

Grizelda spoke, a quiet and dangerous growl. "He's a giant, compared to most people. In some ways he can be irritating, yes, but he's got the heart and soul of..." her emotion got the better of her and she could not go on for a bit.

"Harv, Pockets may be a pain in the ass, but he's our pain in the ass. A little weird, a little larcenous, but he's bout the best person you'd ever want at your back." He poured a bit of water on the corner of his shirt, and cleaned the blood away from Pockets' face. "We've got to get him to a healer, Harv." Bags eyes were cold, unblinking, and glazed. Harv could not hold that stare for long.

"I know, but do you think it's safe to move him?" he said, turning his head away. Grizelda was sniffing, and he could see that her face too, held the signs of the beginning of anger. "Are you two going to be all right?" he asked quietly.

Grizelda rose from where she fell onto her knees. "Harv, we are going to be fine. All three of us. The person that did this is definitely NOT going to be all right." She crossed over to Bags and Pockets, and stroked the little man's brow. "You go out now, Harv. You go out and you run to the healer, and you tell him what you see here. You have him bring a cot, towels, clean water, and all the healing herbs he's got. You run and do that, because Bags and I are going to be right here, protecting our friend." She turned back to Pockets.

Harv nodded to her back, looked Bags in the eyes and said, "I'll be as quick as I can, and quicker if it's possible." He turned and ran out of sight.

Grizelda said "Bags, who ever did this took a very long time. No broken bones, no damage to his little head. These were evil people."

Bags nodded and said "Yup. That they are, Griz. And I 'spect if we find that Chibi bitch, we'll find some answers."

Grizelda replied, "Bitch is not something I'd call her. It's an insult to dogs. I agree though, finding her is something I personally would like to do. Preferably in a locked room or a dark alley" A serious, non-humorous grin spread on her tear stained face. "I have a few things I'd like to explain to her, in person."

Bags gave her an nod of agreement, but said "Now, now, Griz. I think we might let the local authorities handle it. At least, afterwards." He turned thoughtful. "Pockets said that he figured Chibi wanted his little do da, that windup thingy. From the look of him, I'd say he didn't give them much detail about it." He indicated the room they were in with a wave. "Look around. There aren't even any clothes here. I'd guess they caught him naked and drug him here." He paused, then added, "In broad daylight. Through at least part of this town that was populated by merchants."

Grizelda said "Gods, I wish Pockets was here to ask. He'd have this thing figured out in no time. How did they get him into this room? The door was locked and unused for years. What's so important about a toy he got out of a game would cause someone to kidnap him and torture..." her voice choked again.

Bags stood up. "Griz, these are questions we're not gonna answer just sitting here. You know Pockets. He'll survive. I don't think I've ever seen him quite this beat up, but he'll survive. Right now his brain is probably floating out there, looking back at us, saying something like 'It's so obvious!'" He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, blinking back tears. "I'd like to have the answers to those questions before he woke up, though. After the healer shows up, do you think you'll be all right if it's just you and him? I want to take Harv and go ask a few people a few questions."

Grizelda held Pockets head in her lap, held one of his cold hands in hers and said "Honey, Pockets and I will be just fine. Don't wait for the healer or Harv. You go and ask your questions your way, move heaven and hell, then come back here and let me know which buncha bastards I'm gonna kick the asses of. But leave me your knife, just in case."

Bags nodded, reached down into his boot and pulled out a thin stiletto. He flipped it to Grizelda, who expertly caught it. He turned to leave, but Grizelda called out to him. "Bags? If you find Chibi, don't hurt her, all right?"

Bags turned back with a questioning look, "No?"

Grizelda nodded and said "No. I want to explain our position in person. All right?"

Bags smiled back and said "Whatever you want, my love. I don't envy her, even a little bit." And then he was gone.

Grizelda cradled Pockets head in her lap and said "Oh, Pockets... I don't know what you've gone and gotten yourself into. It may be the first time you ever got into trouble without actually doing anything to cause it, and look where it's gotten you." She looked up at the ceiling, and said "If you are out there somewhere, like Bags said, you just make sure you find your way back, you hear? Because, even though I don't relish the thought, you know we'll come to whatever hell you're in, and drag your skinny ass back here."

*

Pockets' wandering mind was, as Bags had guessed, hovering around. He saw the two of them sitting there and was gently touched with the emotion they showed. He heard the discussion about Chibi, and he saw Harv leave for the Healer. He liked Harv, found him a genuine person, and dubbed him The Harv, because Harv was the only Harv that Pockets had ever known.

He flittered around, discovered the door to the cellar, hidden under one of the barrels that were littered around the kitchen. "So much for the locked door mystery", he thought. He flittered back to where Grizelda was and moved his consciousness close to her. "Don't worry, Griz," he pushed at her, "I'll be fine. That old body of mine is just worn out and tired. I'll be back." Invisible lips kissed her cheek, and he saw her raise a hand to the spot, eyes wide in wonder. He nodded a head that wasn't there, and then up through the ceiling he rose.

He stayed up there for a few minutes, getting his bearings. Off in the distance he could see the shrinking form of Bags, out on his quest for answers. He also saw a group of men, dressed in black, moving in the direction of the Barracks.

He thought about diving back into his body so he could warn Grizelda, but then thought better of it. One reason was that as long as Beegle thought him near dead, no harm would come to Grizelda or Bags. The other was he wasn't sure if he could make that body do much right now anyway.

"Bastards certainly did a number on that ol' shell." He knew his body would heal, and though he felt some attachment to it, it was a distant attachment, like a suitcase put up in a closet till next time it was needed. "Next time I'll be more careful of the things I pull out of a claw game." He gave a chuckle and said "Yeah... sure I will."

A pair of figures approaching also helped to relieve any fear for Grizelda's safety. "Ah! And here comes The Harv with The Healer. Fat lot of good that quack will do. Smoke and herbs and words and such. Long as he doesn't do that leeches thing, or tries to bleed me, I'll be right as rain in a day or six." He turned to look down at the Barracks roof and yelled, "Griz! Do NOT let that quack bleed me or put those nasty leeches on me! If you do, I will be most upset. What's even worse, is that he might actually finish killing me! So, no Bleeding and NO leeches!"

He shuddered at the thought of leaches, let that pass, then he spun in the air a bit, deciding which way to go. He picked the direction of the Keep and pushed himself towards it. He had only been in it briefly the previous time he was kidnapped, and wanted to check it out in more depth, so to speak.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to the backstroke, or the Squiderian crawl as he floated on the wind. Since he couldn't decide, he just did both, at the same time. "Life is so easy, when you don't have to worry about living."

He drifted on the breezes, taking notes of areas of warm air and areas of cooler air and did some quick and easy calculations based upon air density and wind drift. He wasn't calculating for any reason other than it's what he did. He put the information away in his memory, just in case it ever came in handy. Or not.

The top of the Keep was basically a ten feet by ten feet square box sitting upon one corner of a larger square box. It was, of course, stone, and castellated with a flagpole set just off to the right of center to allow a spiral staircase to run from the roof down into the depths of the Keep. Pockets loved spiral anything, and so he pushed himself down that staircase at speed, silently going 'Wheee' all the while.

He flittered onto the landing of the third floor, and had he been in a body, would have found himself splat against the far wall. Instead, he smoothly sailed into the wall, and through it. "Well, buggers." he thought to himself, hovering just outside the wall of the Castle.

Instead of drifting back through the wall, he instead floated along it, looking in the windows and making invisible faces at the folks inside that couldn't see him. "It appears," he said to nobody, "that they are preparing for some big to-do, as they busier than they really ought to be. And oh so serious." He drifted into a convenient open window and settled upon an ottoman, watching a group of musicians practice. "This," he thought, "is more like it." as he crossed his ethereal legs and sat back to listen.

It was quartet, three musicians and one vocalist. They were singing some rather bawdy tune, containing something about a blue ribbon and the location of it. It was a high spirited song, and the players enjoyed playing it for nobody but themselves.

When it was done, Pockets applauded with hands that weren't there, and whistled though lips nobody could see. He stopped immediately when he saw the effect his actions were having on the vocalist.

"'ere now," she said, accent thick but understandable, "wot's this?" She turned back to the musicians, ran her hand through her thick red hair, and said "Did any of you 'ear sumethin' just then? Sounded like applause?" The other three just shrugged their shoulders. None of them had heard a thing.

The vocalist scratched her cheek in though for a second, then shrugged it away as well. "Mebbee it was somethin' that floated up from outside. Oh well, least someone is 'aving fun! Besides us, I mean." she laughed She looked around the room once again, and it seemed her eyes may have lighted on the spot occupied by Pockets. "All, right, lads. 'ow did that feels to you?"

The quartet started a discussion about harmonies, whose voice was not quite blended in, whether the guitar was truly in tune, and what time the coronation was, and if they'd ever get fed.

"Coronation?" Pockets mused.

The red-haired vocalist turned directly at him. "You!" she said and walked directly over to where he was hovering. "'oo are you, and wot do you want? And I'll tell you straight out, if you ain't a friendly ghost, you're in for one 'elluva fight!"

"Um, this is extremely unusual." Pockets thought.

"Not as unusual as wot I'm gonna do if you don' gimme sum answers. I'll tie you into such a knot it'll take you 3 more lifetimes to get your innards unraveled. If you had any."

"Wow!" said Pockets directly at her. "Can you hear me? Can you see me? I've never known anyone that could see me when I went out a-wanderin'"

"Yeah, I can 'ear you, so there's no need to shout. And no, I can't see you, which is prob'ly a good thing, since most folk don' look so good when they're dead anyways."

"Oh," said Pockets. "I'm not dead. Just mostly dead."

"Just mostly dead, eh? 'old on a minute." She turned back to the musicians, who were sitting or standing, bored and waiting. "Fellers, I've got a not quite dead spook 'ere. This may take a bit o' time to hash it all out. Step out and give us a mo' would you?"

The guitar player came over to her. He was a burly man, and the affection that showed in his eyes was evident. "All right, luv. Me and the boys will step out to Swineheart’s for a bit o' food."

"Just make sure that's all you get, Bruce. We need a bit more work on that bridge." she said.

Bruce bent down, kissed the back of her neck, which got the shiver he wanted said "I'll work on any bridge you want, m'luv." then he looked at the empty space where Pockets was drifting and said "Best o' luck to ye, Mr. Spook.", then he and the other two musician left through the door.

"M'name's Suzy. This group is called Queen's Gamboni, after my father, the great Gamboni. We travel all over this world, playing for Kings, Queens, or just for anyone that will feed us. I've seen an terrible lot of things, and I've even been involved in a few of them. You, Mr. Spook, are the first Not Quite dead ghost I've ever met. Care to share with me yer story? Bet it would make a heck of a song."

"I bet it would too!" said Pockets, excitedly. "Okay, I'll tell you, but I want something in return. When I'm done, I want you to get in touch with a woman named Grizelda. She's at the old Barracks with my.. umm.. body. The king knows her, and the king's son knows her. Tell Griz that Pockets says the key is bags. Oh, this is sooo much fun! I've been able to spook folk, but never hold a conversation with them!"

"A woman named Grizelda at the old barracks, the key is Bags. I don't see much of a trouble with that." said Suzy. "Now then, what's yer story?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

rowangolightly.livejournal.com

Ohhh! I don't quite know that accent. *grin*

It's sure fun being a character in one of your stories. *nods* I need to speak with Griz anyway...

And Pockets shouldn't stay away too long!

From:

My home out of mind

BagsNPockets; Intermission's over...

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