Description: Ooh, it must have been about seven, eight years ago. Me and the little lady was out on this boat, you see, all alone at night, when all of the sudden this huge creature, this giant crustacean from the Paleolithic Era, comes out of the water. It stood above us looking down with these big red eyes and I yelled, I said, "What do you want from us, monster?" And the monster bent down, and said, "I need about tree-fitty." I said, "I ain't givin' you no tree-fitty, you goddamn Loch Ness Monster! Get your own goddamn money!"
Duo Lon may or may not have left a terse voice mail on Ash's phone yesterday, perhaps cut short by a cat's sudden, unwanted alarm at his presence. The feline's body may be halfway through being picked apart by bugs, but Duo Lon is -long- gone. In fact, not even ten minutes after his encounter with Ash and the dumbstruck Elisabeth, the Hizoku was leaving his apartment, bags packed, a slight, wholehearted smile on his face.
First time that's happened in a while.
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Now he stands atop a small, sturdy fishing boat some four miles off the coast of Urquhart Castle in Scotland's Loch Ness. The time is 3:27 PM - there's a bit of a breeze, and the clouds obscure any sort of sun that might be beating down. One spiderlike hand clutches an opened notebook, while the other holds some sort of **VERY EXPENSIVE** analyzer. He is surrounded by similarly expensive equipment, the most important of which must be the exorbiantly comfortable chairs situated before any of the fishing vessel's four angling stations. A small structure in the boat's middle holds important navigational equipment, its lounge, and presumably -even more stuff-.
"Well, Ash," grates the Hizoku, grim. "It says here that the Loch Ness Monster appreciates highly luminescent baits. Have any souvenir coins on you?" He does not look up from his book.
Duo Lon, horrible cat killer. His mother would be proud.
Seated next to the book-reading Hizoku, fishing rod in hand, the Frenchman is fast asleep, because he is bored. His line is cast, and the red bobbing thing buoys quite happily on its own... But Ash is dreaming about cake, not the Loch Ness monster. Unfortunately, the orange life-jacket (Ash can't swim) is awfully uncomfortable, and it bothers him so greatly that when the flamewielder attempts to roll over and CAN'T, Crimson wakes up.
"Hunnnnggggh?" Is the young man's intelligent response to the question, blue eyes gaze blearily up at his creepy compatriot, then Ash just... drops the fishing rod with a careless thump on the boat's bottom, patting his pockets, "How are you going to attach a coin to the lure?" His smile is lazy, and a sign that he is slowly surfacing from his stupor. Producing exactly what Duo Lon was looking for, kinda, he passes what looks like twenty pence piece along.
Tug tug goes the line of the freckle-faced one's fishing rod, "Saa, Duo, are there any fish here?" This is likely going to induce some sort of panic, isn't it?
The "twenty pence piece" is plucked from Ash's offering hand with an uncanny (and rude) grace. With a fluid flick of thumb against fist, it's send spiraling into the air, end over end, only to slip into the Loch with a subdued, bassy *plonk*. Duo Lon continues regarding his analyzer (or whatever).
"Lots of movement." The Hizoku's eyes flitter towards the orange-vested Frenchman, and again, he offers himself bit of silent amusement. "Loch Ness is home to the European Eel, Pike, Three-Spined Stickleback, Brook Lamprey, Eurasian Minnow, Atlantic Salmon, Sea Trout, Brown Trout, and Arctic Char."
Duo Lon is silent for a moment, wind whipping his bangs into an otherwise impassive face. His scanning equipment beeps placidly, reliably. Now and then, the weight at the end of his braid is blown into a deck structure; it emits a hollow BONK.
"...Pike's pretty big. Sharp teeth. What do you make of Elias?"
Why is it that Ash agreed to come along for this excursion - just look at how he is treated! But the rudeness of Duo's actions don't really seem to phase the Frenchman, whose hand drops to his lap as the coin goes sploosh, curling around the other, thumbing over his knuckles to create some frictional warmth. He is here because this entire trip sounded sudden and interesting, so due his very nature, he agreed to participate. Falling asleep while wallowing in boredom has taught him how dull hunting mythical creatures can be. He will be wiser next time.
Blue eyes scan the fairly undisturbed loch, then travel over towards the castle, which is likely far warmer than out on the water, he would be willing to bet. The Frenchman snuggles into his life-jacket, face nearly as pale as the hair upon his head. He wonders what the end of Duo Lon's braid is made of. It was never really a curiosity before, but the hollow sound draws Ash's attention for lack of anything better to capture it. "I wonder if they taste good." The fishing rod lolls around by his feet, red bobber lost, presumably with one of the aforementioned caught on the hook. "Loch Ness looks filthy."
Ahh~hhh, he exhales deeply, baby blues glazing over, because the flamewielder is the laziest and worst fisherman in the world, when... "Elias?" Suddenly Ash is very alert, sitting just that much straighter in his seat, twisting his head back to gaze at the standing Duo. Those eyes flash in a few blinks, then his thin lips curve into a secretive sort of smile, "I don't really suggest you tell that man much about your... more darker dealings, Duo. He's our teammate and we need him for the tournament." The gaze drops away. We? And how did the assassin even know? The freckle-faced fighter sees no point in asking if he already does. What will be will be.
Perhaps imperceptibly, Duo Lon's eyes blaze when Ash mentions the Loch looking 'filthy'. Whatever wrath might have been visited upon the Frenchman is abated by the duly noted vanishing bobber - instead, Duo Lon simply shakes his head, and turns on his heel, back towards a comically oversized whiteboard plastered to the boat's cabin. Loch Ness has been drawn up as a topographical map, sequestered into over two hundred locations. Five of these have been X'd off - Duo takes a black marker and X's a sixth.
"What darker dealings are you speaking of?" The Hizoku moves towards the ship's navigational controls. "My icthyological tendencies? The bird watching?" He gears the ship towards a slow, chugging march - the vessel heads easterly at the excruciating speed of 3 MPH. Which is something like 1.6 KPH for you metric assholes. Maybe.
Ash probably doesn't realize that his fishing rod has gone from an erect line to a -very- bowed, inverted "U".
Duo Lon glances back towards Ash, features obscured by yet another gust of wind. "'We' don't need anybody. What happens will happen. I will get what I need from this. I'm sure you'll have no troubles, either."
He is flabbergasted. "You watch birds?" The words come tumbling out of the Frenchman's mouth before he really has the opportunity to consider them, and they reek of amusement. That's... THAT'S SUCH A LAME HOBBY. But so is studying fish, he supposes. Ash does not judge, because it is likely that the assassin would find what the flamewielder does with his own spare time equally dull.
Stretching both arms up over his head as the boat starts to trundle along, the fishing rod still escapes his notice, because young Crimson is looking up at his 'friend' still, crossing one leg over the other, "We'll see." He says with that typical air of mystery, silently appreciating the fact that like Shen, Duo has absolutely no interest in whatever it is that he's up to. Both Elisabeth and Elias are rather concerned and suspicious of him because he's not very forward. "The point is that teams are required for the tournament, and it would be best not alienate people over unimportant matters, oui?"
Yes, because a profession is not important at all.
Suddenly, a particularly violent jerk and rattle of the rod causes Ash to stare at the shuddering fishing appliance, reaching to scoop it up into his pale hands. His nails are red today. "I think I caught something!" His thoughts that the loch is dirty and wondering if fish are edible are suddenly long forgotten, but... "Here." With a bright smile, the Frenchman offers it to the Hizoku, "I doubt it's your Ogopogo, but maybe it might be something interesting?" Have all the glory, Duo! Because Ash Crimson is too lazy for it.
He'd probably mess it up anyway, too.
Duo's face remains mightily impassive throughout Ash's amusement. He recalls several fond moments observing the Central American quetzal, the New Mexican Yellow-crowned Night-heron, among others. Birds are, to say the least, absolutely regal, except for when they are regally shitting somewhere. On the other hand, Duo Lon may be 100% bullshitting.
"When have you ever been worried about alienating people?" Duo Lon may not inquire about Ash's concerns and curiousities, but the lanky Chinese teenager *absolutely* understands the mentality of a mover and a shaker. It's something he believes unique to himself and Ash, so far as their friends are concerned.
Then Ash is grabbing at his fishing rod, prompting Duo to -completely- flip out. It's a very -controlled- flipout, but the Hizoku is nonetheless briskly walking towards his French companion, briskly SLAMMING one of those sickly hands down upon the rod in his hands. Duo is almost immediately sent *flying* backwards, tripping fully over the relaxing Ash's deckchair and careening towards the very back of the fishing boat, head and feet completely inverted.
"...! Tch! Crimson, if you want that twenty pence back, DO SOMETHING!"
Wh--HUH?!
It must've been the boat, but suddenly the fishing rod's movements are all the more violent than before and Ash has to slam both of his feet into the boat's side to prevent WHATEVER it is from yanking him overboard. The whole thing is rather ridiculous - the thin Frenchman hangs as if suspended by magic, rod nearly bent entirely in half. He holds on, leans back, and fumbles for the reel, "Ahaha!" Why is he LAUGHING?! Catching the little knob, the flamewielder starts turnin--ASH, THAT IS THE WRONG WAY!
... Oops.
Reversing the rotation, Ash is now reeling in the 'fish' the proper way, hindered a little by the fact that this is a right-handed fishing rod. Crimson is left-handed. He stops, pulls back again, then reels for everything he's worth! Something emerges from the water behind the boat, barely parting the loch, then it sinks once again, "Like I care about twenty pence, it was Shen's money anyway!" But this fun, so he touches down to the armrest of his disturbed chair, and drags the rod back.
"Oh," He can't really look at Duo, and it sounds rather nonchalant, but the Frenchman asks anyway, "Are you all right?" Maybe the Hizoku was also lying about being interested in fish, because he's a terrible fisherman /TOO/, and all this effort is starting to wear Ash out. What did he catch already?
*WHUD* goes Duo Lon's head into the back of the boat. He'd be completely overboard if not for R4+ reflexes - chiseled nails dig into the fishing vessel's deck, etching foot-long engravings into its surface. The Hizoku finds purchase on a shallow-running electric mainline - his fishing rod leaves his hands, only to be caught between frantically clenched legs and STILL robbed. It ultimately flashes into the horizon, to disappear towards a breaching, saurian figure.
Duo Lon's face is buried into the junction of wall and floorboard.
"UGHN. What do you see, Crimson??"
Wait, how many fishing rods are there? The Frenchman fell asleep holding one... Did Duo set up a second? And there's something caught on both? JEEZ, CONFUSION! But because I said so, two exist. Or did, at least. The one currently not being held onto for DEAR LIFE goes sailing away overhead, Ash following its progress with wide blue eyes, reeling away more out of knee-jerk reaction then actually understanding what he's doing. Feeling neglected, the rod in his hands is nearly whipped from Crimson as well, "Oh no you don't!" Clamping the butt of the fishing rod down between his arm and life-jacket, the flamewielder's battle continues.
Finally, it's like an eternity and five minutes later, but something emerges and it's..IT'S! "It's a boot." Crimson deadpans, reeling the item up into the air, "A dirty old boot." Only not, because there's more to this story, Ash reaching for the soggy item to unhook it from the lure. He blinks, "I think our lines tangled." But the other rod is likely lost anyway. How many metres are in a fishing reel? The freckle-faced fighter will not be the one pulling that in.
Any saurian figure sinks back beneath the surface of the water, having foiled two more fishermen set to discover it quite handily. Ash isn't certain he saw anything, being preoccupied - should he lie? The flamewielder settles for a helpless shrug, chucking the boot back in the water. He wobbles along in the boat and extends a hand to Duo with a perfectly pleasant smile, "Maybe we need more than something so flimsy to catch a lake monster." Jerk, you just want the Hizoku to give up on his dreams.
Tangled lines??! Confused fishery?? FOOL, THIS IS DUO LON AND ASH CRIMSON YOU ARE DEALING WITH. They are above such pedestrian concerns. Nonetheless, Ash's complaints ring solidly on Duo's ears; he slumps to the deck official, expression cloudy, eyes lidded. He's more -aware- of the vanishing fishing rod than -told- about it, but then again, Ash's casual suggestion of a replacement is more than enough indication of what just happened.
Boots don't send assassins reeling, even if they are famous among Hizoku villagers for being frail half-opponents. Nonetheless, Duo lifts to a sitting position, expression frustrated, eyes lidded. "Fishing rods are, I think, the only thing we have access to. Most of the industrial winches require special licensure and more money than I have available to me." Duo regards Ash FULLY here. He -knows- the Frenchman has untold fortunes; Duo, despite his expertise and apparent superiorty, is a pauper.
"Don't avoid the topic. Out of my own concern; what draws you to this year's tournament?"
Hand still extended to the assassin, it would be true that the flamewielder has 'disposable' funds backing him due to his heritage, but nothing about Ash would suggest such. He laughs lightly, withdrawing the offer, instead opting to take hold of a long strand of platinum blonde hair. Twisting the hair around one slender finger, the thin man ensures that he won't wind up sitting along with Duo on the boat's bottom by leaning on whatever's closest. We'll say that it's a random chair that somehow wound up by them through sheer coincidence of creative writing.
"I don't think half of this equipment here helps at all." MAYBE YOU SHOULD SELL IT, is Ash's thought process, because he's not even sure what it does. Serve coffee? Sigh, thinking of warm drinks just reminds him of how chilly it is. The life-jacket protects the slender fighter from the elements only to a certain degree - his nose is red-raw from the biting wind, for instance.
At the attempts to pin him down to a topic, the man's blue eyes widen innocently, "I wasn't aware I was changing the topic?" Although this entire incident is his fault, isn't it? All that entertaining pandemonium over a BOOT. "If I told you the truth, Duo, you wouldn't believe me," His eyes close, smile growing brighter, "But, why not? It is something interesting, non?" It is the non-answer that would make Elisabeth wish to strangle him in frustration, the dark lie. Asking why the Hizoku cares is there on the tip of his tongue as well, but for now, the Frenchman bottles it up and says nothing else.
Biting wind has little influence on Duo's otherwise pallid physique. The Hizoku sits at the boat's end, a brutal combination of peeved and slightly chilled - he *knows* there is nothing in this lake that would present such tremendous force on -angling- rods. He also knows Ash Crimson is not the sort of individual to affect concern where he has none. Regardless, Duo stands, idly brushing at his silken suit, eyes closed. He is... obviously frustrated.
"It is interesting," he aquiesces. "Tell me; have you seen any interesting characters lately? Outfits similar to mine."
Ash is polite though, don't forget. And sometimes he is prone to defying logic with his strange actions. Twirling blonde hair for one moment longer, it is left curled and abandoned at the Hizoku's further questioning. A pencil thin eyebrow lifts high on his forehead - was this all just a clever ploy to quiz him in private? The Frenchman doubts that it all will continue for long, however. "I have not." He admits, head canting to the side, "The Hizoku style of dress is rather memorable, after all. I don't think it's possible to forget."
With a light and gentle giggle, he's a bit short in comparison to Duo, but he faces the Chinese man anyway, somehow looking at him with a very level, interested gaze, "Still searching, I take it?" And not for the Loch Ness monster, or anything else crazy that the assassin does - yes, Ash knows tidbits about this quest, though not specifics. He is willing to bet that even should he ask, the other will decline to answer, and he will cease to care about the issue. This is hopefully how the other feels about Crimson himself. It's not just supposed to be Shen who isn't interested.
"Tch." It's the only answer Ash receives. Duo Lon meanders from his place at the end of the boat towards its navigational controls once again. Once there, Duo smoothly guides the boat from its original heading back towards the distant castle. The man's face is difficult to read; certainly frustrated, but at the same time, it's easy to see that he hadn't been expecting much else. Ron is, everything else considered, The Most Dangerous Prey.
The boat turns a full 180, and begins chugging towards the castle, gliding past both discarded angling rods seemingly without a care in the world. As Ash doubtless forms his own opinions about Duo Lon's uncharacteristic exposition, the Hizoku is quick to throw up a smoke-screen.
"You look stupid in orange, by the way."
Rolling his eyes to the GREAT HEAVENS ABOVE, Ash snorts, "Merci, mon ami. You're so pleasant."
Log created on 20:04:15 02/01/2011 by Ash, and last modified on 02:37:36 02/02/2011.