2017-07-26: The Sins of a Father
- Log: The Sins of a Father
- Cast: Cassidy Cain, Kent Hauch (as Fargo Foobach)
- Where: The Kingdom of Lacour
- Date: July 27, 2017
- Summary: Cassidy Cain barges into the sick tent of one Fargo Foobach while claiming to look for someone else.
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
SOME TIME AGO. . .
A day has passed since the fight between Fargo Foobach and Xantia. Perhaps two days. The time doesn't really matter. Fargo himself can barely keep track of it. Once the battle adrenaline had run out, the martial artist found himself unable to hold back the pain, which in turn made it difficult for him to hold his chi. Sometimes, he slips in and out of sleep. Tonight, he is awake.
The medical staff employed by the Lacour Coliseum are somewhat fascinated by the man, and have taken his treatment as an interesting puzzle. Wide bandages are wrapped around his chest to cover the ripping damage he received from Xantia's mysterious 'technique' and the severe burns he gave himself cauterizing the wound with his bare hands. The bedspace next to him has been cleared out and replaced with a carefully-built fire, which bends slightly toward him when he takes in a breath.
It doesn't keep his skin from looking pale, like a man caught out in a cold rain, but he isn't shivering.
Fargo is currently on observation - someone here knows about infections, which is what gets them these prestigious government jobs. He is reading a beaten, salvaged-looking book on the history of the Aveh region by the light of the fire. Aside from a few unfortunate night shift workers, there are few other people here at the moment.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Certainly, a consummate veteran of being alert at all times, no matter what state he is in, would be able to hear the crunch of booted feet on dust and debris outside of his tent, no matter how preoccupied he seems.
The tent flap suddenly jerks open, and a familiar-looking blonde woman enters its confines with confident, long-legged strides. The look on her face is expectant, with a ready, somewhat exasperated smile and a flask in one hand. "Ach, well, when I heard that you were injured, I dinnae expect it tae be that-- "
She draws to a halt. Emerald eyes fall on Fargo, her features taking on a more surprised cast. "What the-- " Lashes lower in a faint squint, a slight stoop over the waist and fingers framing the flare of one hip to take a closer look at Fargo's pale features from where she stands. "You're nae-- huh."
Looking over her shoulder, that befuddled face gives way to one of mild consternation and a hint of annoyance. "Carlos!" she calls out, making absolutely no move to leave the tent to pose her inquiries. "I think you sent me tae the wrong tent! This is nae the Drifter I'm looking for!"
"You sure? Looking for a dark-haired dude who fought today, weren't you?" comes a voice from the outside.
"Nae this one, I can assure you."
"Well, you're fault for not being more specific!"
"Ach." She sighs. To Fargo, she flashes a slightly apologetic look. "It's been a while, dinnae look like your usual fiery self, thought someone as hot as you would see better days than this."
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
Cassidy has a brief encounter on her way in - a veritable giant of a woman with long dark hair, an intense and darting gaze, and men's clothing. She nearly slams right into Cassidy as she rounds a tent, barely stopping, hands up. "Ma'am." She hesitates for a moment for some reason before passing. She was only seen from a distance, but she might've been the woman seen running out to collect Fargo after his injury. She seems to be just sort of... walking around the tents, with no clear goal in mind.
Despite very well hearing someone approach, Fargo is not looking up from his book when Cassidy barges in. He doesn't look up when she expresses her displeasure at being poorly guided.
It's not until she starts talking that he does, closing the book without setting a bookmark, putting it on a small canvas stand next to him. The Man Not Currently in White looks up at the blonde woman with an unreadable expression. He draws a deeper breath - the fire next to him noticeably dims for a moment, but some more color returns to his own cheeks. "Miss Cain, if I recall correctly. I did not expect a visitor, though I suppose you did not expect to be visiting me."
He shifts, sitting up, skin paling again but his eyes growing sharper, as though he'd just decided to burn out the painkilling opium in his system. "I apologize for being complicit in this case of mistaken identity." A faint smile around one corner of his mouth. "I've been injured worse before. It isn't worth complaining about damage sustained in a tournament - by definition, I've brought it on myself. Out of curiosity, might I ask who you were looking for?"
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
The woman she bumped into on the way here gets an absent acknowledgment, though nothing more, though it is only when she is far away that Cassidy looks over her shoulder to get a good look at her before moving forward once more.
Within the tent, a honey brow lifts slowly up one eye, though her present expression gives way to an amused smile. "Putting me in a disadvantage already, dinnae think you'd bother tae find out who I am. Our first run-in was rather brief, if I recall correctly." An exaggeration; it wouldn't be like her to forget something like that, considering his fantastically fiery methods. "But I s'pose anyone who takes their survival seriously would attempt tae. Would really question what that would say about me, however, since the only reason why I know yours is because of the lists and even then, it could always be an alias. Nae that I could blame anyone - Baskar and gypsies would attest that there's power behind true names."
The strange appearance and disappearance of the color on his cheeks is noted, though Cassidy moves on as if she doesn't notice, striding over, popping the cap off her flask. She takes a drink from it, before extending it to him in offerance. "Dinnae expect this, but who am I tae question the mysterious workings of Serendipity." There's a glance at the book he has just set on the table, though this is brief - a woman, clearly, who is accustomed to noticing things just as quickly as she is able to discard those which she deems superfluous.
"Dinnae think you tae be the sort tae throw yourself in the beating ring, neither," she tells him. "In my experience, men who dress sharply dinnae take tae getting intae fisticuffs unless it is absolutely necessary. Nae that I could blame them, really, it's a difficult thing tae try and find a tailor you can trust. Anyway, just looking for an acquaintance regarding a bit of business."
She inclines her head at him. "But since you're here, I cannae help but indulge in my own curiosity. The Metal Demon you tried tae incinerate the last time we saw one another, you ever see him again?"
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
Fargo calmly responds, "It came up in some idle conversations while I was handling other business." He smiles faintly again. His face gives little away. "But, no, Fargo Foobach is my name. Hiding behind an alias engenders immediate mistrust. I prefer not to deal with people who lie about something so fundamental, and extend that same courtesy in return.
That will prove to be an ironic statement in short order, giving rise to the question of what it is that Fargo considers fundamental.
"My father taught me the importance of testing myself." He silently notes her evasion, but doesn't linger there. As far as he knows, Miss Cain and himself are on completely divergent principles. He remains relaxed. "The clothing is... fine clothes are interesting to me. They serve as both bait and armor, in a way. It is good to learn who would attempt to prey upon a person for appearing more advataged than they are, and take the appropriate measures."
Fargo's dark eyes shift a little cold. "I do not like Drifters who hide in the shadows to prey on others. The Badlands is thick with them."
He relaxes, the old emotion draining out. Fargo reaches up with a slight wince, pushing his hair back. "Vorthuzal," he responds, "though I may be pronouncing that incorrectly. Metal Demons seem quite in love with their own names. No. After finishing my business in Adlehyde I moved on. Somewhat cowardly, but I had nothing to protect there."
Fargo folds his hands on his lap, watching Cassidy. Even that simple motion causes him to flinch slightly, though his body fat is so punishingly low that it's easy to see how. It makes the suit, folded and placed on yet another canvas table, seem even odder - usually people this athletic are cocky about it, while he's typically covered to what could be considered prudishness. "Are you chasing him? He seemed particularly dangerous, even for a Metal Demon. That seems an unwise decision unless something is driving you."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Ach, I would nae be too judgmental about that," Cassidy tells him easily, regarding his view on hiding behind an alias. "In my experience, some do have a legitimate reason tae hide something so fundamental. But if nae else, I like your brass." She moves at that, to pull a chair up towards the side of his bed, turning it around so she could straddle it. Not the most elegant or ladylike way to sit, but anyone who knows her would already know that she considers herself less a woman and more a force of nature. Folding her arms against the frame, her lips turn up in a smile.
"My experience tells me the opposite is also true in that," she tells him. "Sometimes they dinnae care how fine the threads are, but I've learned that it takes all kinds in Filgaia. You just seem more straightforward than most. At the very least, you're easygoing enough tae nae bat an eyelash when someone just barges in your sick tent and helps herself tae your company anyway. I dinnae like tae waste my time, y'ken. Life's too short for that, so while I'm here, I might as well engage you. After all, it's nae as if we're complete strangers."
There's a slight incline of her head, when he speaks of Drifters hiding behind shadows. Her smile is faint, but ever-present. "Ay," she murmurs. "They're certainly full of that."
With the offered flask untaken, she takes another draw from it, letting it dangle in her hand. "Ach, you know his name, then. A mouthful, that, certainly a degree of pretention there. Nae more chasing than it is an opportunistic following - he and I have unfinished business, but I'm in nae hurry tae finish it, if that makes any sense." She laughs. "That encounter may verra well be my last, is why, hence I'm in nae hurry. It's inevitable, though. I dinnae like things unfinished, either."
Propping her chin on one hand, she regards him for a long moment. "So why the tournament?" she wonders. "Are you looking tae get your licks in someone who entered?"
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
Fargo doesn't really seem to notice Cassidy throwing herself into a chair. But, running with the crew he does, he's accustomed to a lot. He knows women that open beer bottles with their teeth and fight with the empties.
He nods toward the flask. "I apologize, I should have said. I don't drink. It's a bad idea." He leaves it at that for now. "But that aside... there are ways to contend with a checkered past. I will always prefer accepting your mistakes to hiding from them."
Fargo feels up to taking another breath. The fire dims again, and he again looks better. "I have been sitting here for a few days with no company but a curious medical staff presented with something they have never seen before. If you'll forgive the metaphor, your visit is a sunrise in comparision. But... no. The tournament was merely a test. I find myself rarely challenged by people who are worth the challenge in my daily life. There is not a single person entered that I had met beforehand."
The martial artist looks out toward the slice of the outside visible through the tent flap. He chews on his lip for a moment - slightly, like all of his expressions. "I think," he begins, "the complexity of Metal Demons indicates that thinking of them as 'pretentious' creatures invites ones own downfall. They are fundamentally inhuman. They cannot be expected to hold to whims that mirror our own, even if some were able to move among us masked for a time."
He shifts to meet Cassidy's eyes with his own remote gaze, eyebrows twitching downward. "If you must strike at him, ensure that you strike with a reason. Ensure that you prepare the battlefield to have the greatest chance of success. He will not be operating as though there is something personal to gain from the battle. Metal Demons see us as we would see locusts in a field in greener days." Fargo shakes his head. "Always act with a reason, even if that reason is not reasonable. I do not like to see anyone throw themselves onto the pyre."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Speaks more of your ability tae take care of yourself, that," Cassidy observes. "An honest man like you tends tae be easy pickings around these parts." There's a smile towards his direction, one that cuts like a knife in its brilliance. "Ach, the shivers. You really must be dangerous."
She waves a hand when he apologizes about his unwillingness or inability to imbibe, as if she can physically dismiss it. But the comment about her visit has her letting out a laugh, pleasure filling her eyes and fingertips draping lightly over where her heart would be. "I s'pose honest men can be charming, also," she tells him gamely. "Well, if nae else, I'm happy tae oblige. Nae that I cannae relate - I make a poor patient, nae the kind that'll sit still for too long nae matter what state I'm in. And the things you're missing while you're here, ay? Lacour's taken all sorts the last few weeks because of the tournament, plenty of things tae see, and hear, if a body would let himself. So did you find it after all, then? Your challenge? Take it you must have, otherwise you'd nae be here."
She takes another mouthful from her flask. "Well, if nae pretentious, they certainly keep tae a very inflated sense of importance, if that entire display we witnessed was nae any indication," she points out. "But I s'pose it never hurts tae keep an open mind, I've seen strange things in my travels. Would nae discount the possibility of finding a Metal Demon with a heart comparable tae a human being's."
Not that she cares, either way. They can all be rendered extinct once more tomorrow, and she wouldn't bat an eyelash. In fact, she would help, but for reasons that have more to do with the selfish need to survive and a burning, white-hot grudge than anything truly noble.
His advice, though, has her smiling faintly. Anyone would take offense to be talked to like a green stripling - Filgaians were notoriously independent and self-assured in their ability to survive anything, but there's none of that from Cassidy, who takes it in stride and even some semblance of grace. "Some would say I've made a career out of throwing myself ontae the pyre," she tells him, instead. "Hope you will nae judge me too harshly on that end."
There's a glance over her shoulder at the tent flap. "You mentioned that you left Adlehyde after the invasion because you had nae anything there tae protect. If you dinnae drink and dinnae throw yourself intae situations recklessly, as you dinnae strike me as an incautious sort, does that mean that's your primary drive?"
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
If the smile is having a particular effect on Fargo Foobach, it's hard to tell. He's clearly the sort of person who, whatever happened in his past, has found that he's better off closing himself up. He normally doesn't even talk this much, which could be chalked up to all manner of things. Could be drugs still in his system. Could be the pain keeping him from focusing on staying dire.
"I saw something in that girl that I wanted to push. Consider it... a lesson, of a sort. An ability she was not using to its fullest. People should not hesitate when it comes to understanding themselves." He gestures at his chest. "I suppose it was successful, provided she doesn't continue to run away from it. Why did you not join? Simply not an activity to your taste?"
He does wish he could get up and move around. Fargo is no longer accustomed to being severely injured, and less so in a position where people are making irritating demands of him. "I am not very optimistic on the matter of Metal Demons. Even if they did prove to be more... human... I am not optimistic that's an improvement."
Nothing outside the tent flap. Fargo's just looking toward the barely-visible stars. "It's a complicated matter. I suppose I fight for what friends I have, in my own way, though we are often separated. I fight for Filgaia, to protect it from being damaged by people who don't think about their actions."
Ominously, because the world is a hack, wind gusts into the tent, flickering the fire for a moment and throwing shadows across Fargo's face as he looks toward Cassidy. "Many people disagree with my drive and my methods. 'Drifter Hunter' is not a name I gave to myself. Some people seek to protect the romance of a lifestyle I feel often does more harm than good."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
He could be bored, as well; days confined into a sick bed with very little stimuli to focus on would drive anyone to do things they normally do not do. At least, in her experience, if she were ever asked.
His remarks about his opponent has her brows reaching for her hairline, her smile lifting higher in the corners, though the reason for it isn't evident on her features. "Would nae be satisfied unless your opponent gives it her all?" she wonders. "Most would take the easy win, if that was the object, but I s'pose you already made it clear that wasn't why you were competing in the first place. As for me, you can say that. I'm nae tae consign myself in fisticuffs, either, unless I well and truly have tae. It's my face, y'ken. Too afraid tae get hit in the face. It's a silly reason, I imagine, tae prevent someone from experiencing sommat new, but I only have verra few things tae recommend me tae others and that happens tae be one of them. Hopefully you'll nae judge me too harshly because of my vanity, also."
His words about the Metal Demons tempers her smile slightly, lashes hooding; a more dangerous spark enters those glade-green eyes and their scattered motes of gold, gleaming like a cat's in the shadows. But she says very little else about the subject.
Instead, she tilts her head at what he says next. "Sounds like an uphill battle tae me, that last one," she opines. "Too many people too eager tae dig intae the dirt and pull up secrets too dangerous tae see the light of day. But if that's the thing that gives your life purpose or meaning, more power tae you. That verra thing can get either verra simple or verra complicated fast."
The arid air makes itself known, unfurling that single flap of canvas. As dark eyes fall to meet her own, her face reflects nothing but a glimpse of resignation. "Dinnae know that's what they called you," she tells him casually. "Nae that you can do much hunting presently in your condition. So which types do you tend tae hunt, exactly? Call it professional curiosity." Her smile broadens into a grin, enough to chase dimples out from her cheeks. "Am I going tae have tae worry about my eyebrows getting singed off again?"
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
"The drive to pursue a martial art is not for everyone. If I could go back to the beginning armed with the ability to make a choice, I cannot say what I would do." He marks Cassidy's reaction when it comes to the Metal Demons, and considers speaking on it.
But then his mental state, he almost drifts to the provocation. No condition to hunt... He could draw the entire heat of the fire, enough to become dangerous for a few short minutes despite his poor control, the giant wound in his chest bleeding heat. Still a radical disadvantage, the kind of fight he'd just cautioned against. It's a bizarre impulse, one that barely makes any sense. Instead he closes his eyes and cycles a breath. Mastering himself.
"It's not about the technology or strange sorceries. I'm not some purist, some zealot, like those who call themselves the Guard. Too many people are too afraid of these things to take the time to understand them. They burn the world, their own mediocrity failing to control their power." His eyes open. He looks, for a moment, haunted, slightly sad before his iron control is properly back in place.
"As long as you try to understand yourself and your tools, I will have no reason to... act as I feel is best for Filgaia." He attempts a smile, aware of the gravity of the atmosphere. "You've undoubtedly heard things like this before. I am aware I do not fit the standard mold of an idealist."
There is a moment. He cycles around. "You strongly disagree with me on the matter of the Metal Demons. Do you know one personally? Perhaps in that time they were hiding among us? Or are you simply more optimistic as to the nature of humanity than I?"
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Hnh? So what? You dinnae have a choice but tae become a martial artist?" Cassidy inclines her head at that. "That da of yours made your choice for you?"
That, at least, resonates on some level, though she is the last person in the world to say so, or make it obvious. Her lips find the mouth of her flask again, taking another swig.
The provocation may have been deliberate, considering the way those eyes dance under the shadows of those long lashes. More perceptive than the unwary tend to give her credit for, she scents the temptation to yield to it like a shark detects blood in the water. When he manages not to rise to it, however, there's a hint of disappointment, more implied by on the pliant line of her mouth than anything actually audible.
"Hnh," she murmurs, a more contemplative cast on her features. "Well, from my perspective, if everyone else was suddenly exceptional in whatever it is they tried tae do, mediocrity will have tae be assessed by another metric, so I wonder if there's any use trying tae rid the world of it, one way or another, as it will always exist. Anyway, that viewpoint does remind me of someone I met verra recently. Strange lad, with eyes like cornflowers. Claims tae have fallen from the sky. Thought he might have come across a Gebler agent, killed him and took his gear, but he's mysterious enough tae be legitimate."
Remarks about her understanding of herself and the tools of her trade draws out another laugh. "Ay, you certainly dinnae, but like I'm fond of reminding others - I never rule anything out."
When the subject circles to the Metal Demons again, her flask once more lifts to her lips. "Just because I dinnae say anything dinnae mean I strongly disagree, luv," she remarks. "Personally, they can all rot in the Hells that spat them out, if I had my way."
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
"I apologize for misreading you." He doesn't seem to have suffered too much embarrassment, marking him as either confident or just kind of socially poor. "In my experience people are all too happy to talk about what they do not like in agreeable company, but will more likely fall silent in disagreement. But... yes," Fargo continues. "My Art is passed down to the firstborn. When I have a child, it is... expected that I will teach them in the same manner. Pass the torch, as it were." Fargo becomes remote while talking about this. More remote than he is as a matter of course. His gaze slips briefly into the middle distance.
Cassidy talking about the other Drifter gets his attention. His eyes come back into focus when she says 'Gebler', but he doesn't turn toward her then. Fargo thinks back to the lists of problems that come down from above to him and his people, not orders, but things that if they were able to happen to take care of... it would be good.
No, none of them seem right. "Odd times, odd people. And if I told you I too came from beyond the sky?" Is he... joking? Is this an actual joke? "I am told I carry an air of mystery around myself, as well." He blinks, heavily, and shifts downward. "Ah. Unexpected. I thought I had completely burned the drugs from my system. Perhaps my energy is still a bit... taken up."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"You dinnae need tae apologize for that," Cassidy tells him easily with another wave of her hand. "Let's chalk it up tae you being human, ay? Just one of our more fascinating contradictions - nae matter how openly one converses with another, misunderstandings still tend tae happen. Dinnae ruffle my feathers, much. You'll find out later if nae sooner that I'm terribly hard tae offend."
There's a curious tilt of her head at that. "When, nae if?" she wonders. "This is a dangerous world tae raise a child in, luv. But I s'pose if one has tae inherit your talents, it might as well be a tiny version of yourself." Eyes fall on his profile, when dark eyes anchor on a point past her, but she doesn't pry.
Conversations about parents are those she actively tries to avoid.
But the attempt at a joke, for all of his deadpannedly dry delivery, earns him an appreciative look regardless. "Well, then I'd ask you tae prove it," she tells him gamely. "Though considering you seem tae be the honest sort, I dinnae have much cause tae doubt that, ay? Starting tae tread towards unfairness there, lad. There is such a thing as being too special for this world."
His beleaguered state looking more apparent, she takes the hint. Unfolding herself from her stolen chair, she nudges it sideways with a foot. "Far be it for me tae linger in someone's sick bed. I think today's your lucky day, Fargo Foobach. I'm normally nae so obliging." She gives him a wink at that. "It's more my nature tae ride someone until they flag and falter intae incoherence, but I suspect that even slightly diminished as you are, you're more than up for the challenge."
With that, she lifts her fingers in a wave, pivoting to move for the tent flap. "Be seeing you."
<Pose Tracker> Fargo Foobach has posed.
Fargo Foobach smiles. He does have a bit of a problem with people taking him too seriously. Even weird kung fu masters sometimes go for a goof. "Traditions," he replies after, concerning inheritance. "Some things I can pass on as I see fit. Some are considered sacred."
Cassidy makes to leave. Fargo attempts to push himself up a little more, the closest he can come to standing, and nods to her. "I don't have many long conversations, to be honest, but I am told once I get started, I can continue for hours. If I weren't injured, I'm sure we could find other topics."
"But I don't doubt we will meet again. The way this world works... no matter how large it is, it always seems to be equally small. Enjoy the night, Miss Cain."
--
Two days later, Fargo Foobach is reluctantly deemed capable of leaving the care of the medics. He is eager to leave.
Not long after that, the honest man in the tent reveals himself to be a member of the Black Ties gang as he attempts to kidnap the Princess Cecilia Adlehyde. It leads one wondering just how thin the line can be between complex and hypocritical.