Guns Blazing {Gabranth}

[maqui]

And it came to me then that every plan
is a tiny prayer to Father Time -

He winced as a careless step caught the front of his shoe on an uneven cobblestone, hands flying out of his pockets as he almost lost his balance to land flat in the puddle staining the bottom hem of his pants. Looking quite ridiculous as he flailed, he miraculously regained his footing (gaining the stares of two or three gentries and one snub-nosed kid darting his way in and out of the well-dressed crowd, adding only to his quickly rising total of spectators) and kept on some more.

The neon red of his jacket's pulls - actual neon, not the cheap poser crap that most stores sold, but honest-to-goodness neon like PSICOM and the Guardian Corps found ways to incorporate into their uniforms - swung freely, he was so hunched over.

Very decidedly out of place in this city, whose buildings rose in layers towards the sky and were woven around by airships of varying shapes and sizes, though its architecture showed the time period it really belonged in.

An anachronism, or something similar to what would have happened had Cocoon developed differently?

Maqui was a fan of a genre that paralleled this kind of time period discord; steampunk was what they called it back home, and it was kind of a cult hit with history and science nerds. The latter being what he was, evidently - he didn't have the face (or the glasses) to match the general portrayal of a bookworm.

Stuff like that didn't matter to him where he was, though, wandering through an alien city with no idea - literally, no idea - how he'd gotten there. As far as he knew, he'd been walking forever.

The air smelled damp with recent rain, the walkways on the middle level of the city yet to be crowded but with ardent wives out to do shopping with lacy umbrellas in hand. And the street urchins that always seemed to lord it where no one else looked, the hidden crannies that only rats could find, when they came out after the rain to scrounge for leftovers that may have been abandoned.

There was a lot of ivy, he noticed. It was a nice touch.

So he didn't know where he was going, but out seemed like a good idea; as pretty as it was, the looks were starting to get weird.
Antagonistic, even.

And the increasing number of soldiers in the area wasn't helping - it seemed like this was the exact wrong direction, and Maqui made to turn around.

Accidentally making eye contact with a gentry woman standing on a path running twenty feet above his, holding a parasol and a bundle of groceries with unsteady hands.

She shouted something that he couldn't make out, pointing at him with the unhelpful piece of wood and cloth.
Uh oh.

As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
that reeked of piss and 409.

[Captain Cedric Rackham]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,470,true][bg=EEE6E4][atrb=background,http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs7/i/2005/258/c/4/Paper_texture_v5_by_bashcorpo.jpg] AND I WOULD LET A PIECE OF MYSELF DIE IT'S HARD TO BE THE BETTER MAN - WHEN YOU FORGET TO TRY it's hard to be the better man - when you're still lying It was easy to spot him, a bright splotch of color against the flat tones of fabric that clothed the citizens of Archadia. It was even easier to spot him when the crowds split, when people pointed and shouted and made a commotion about this strange boy. Gabranth kept his eyes level with the moving figure, his own pace quickening as he stalked through the flurry of bodies to approach the mass of loose fabric with its strange sprig of blonde hair. From what he count ascertain from appearance alone it was obviously male, how old he could not gather at the present as it ducked and bobbed through and around legs and arms, the Judge Magister growing tired of this game. It was one he found himself partaking in quite often as of late, first with the woman, Fang, and then the sparsely clothed LeBlanc, the lost Prince Noctis and the mercenary Cloud. Gabranth found no pleasure in these acts of having to explain Archadia to these intruders and the strain was causing another head-ache to creep over the base of his skull and blot his vision with stars of pain. Golden optics flared from behind the hollow of his black eyes, his helmet covering his face and any expression that might have given any indications of his present frustration as his cloak flapped at the back of his legs. This was becoming a reoccurring dream he prayed to the Occuria he would finally awaken from and perhaps the death he had so pleasantly envisioned might spring upon him. The boy drew more attention than he seemed to realize, a woman now pointing her parasol as his armored figure approached. She seemed to be distressed at the very sight of this individual, her expression aghast at perhaps both clothing and hair, and maybe even his slouched over posture. A ruffian of some sort Gabranth could only guess, a lowly thief even if his attire was on the bright side. Perhaps where he was from that was from, this idea baffling the Judge as his mind tried to wrap around what the warriors or the politicians clothed themselves in. He came to a stop before the child, his shadow drawing over his small body like a dark cloud, foreboding. The woman’s chatter was noise in his ears, her tone a variation of apologetic and somewhat distressed as his hand reached out to grab the blonde by the wrist. A million questions came to mind, what to ask the boy, what to ask the woman but frustration and a strange sort of misplaced anguish overcame him. This was but a child, however the Archadian law did not permit leniency and he would show none in return. “You are to come with me, child. As Judge Magister of the Ninth Division of the Archadian Empire I hereby place you under arrest for trespassing within the imperial city and the upper quarters of Archades.” Whether or not the boy showed resistance Gabranth did not care, his voice as steely as the armor he wore, expressionless as his mask as he dragged the child away with him through the parting sea of people. He would take him below the mid-levels of the palace to where he had once kept the Prince Noctis and where his own inquires has taken place. “You will obey if you value your life.” His voice was hissed in a great breath of air, teeth gritting from behind his helmet as he gritted his teeth. In his mind’s eye he felt like a father, grabbing what could have been his own son by the hand and scolding him all the while. This made him feel drawn and tired upon this imaginings. i hoped that you would do this for me POST MADE BY GABRANTH OF CALAMITY'S CRY

[maqui]

A gigantic suit of armor - Maqui would henceforth dub him the Tin Man, for sake of his own humor and sanity in such a dreary place as this gray city - cut him off as he was walking, stopped right in front of him and seized his wrist to prevent his flight.

"What the-"

“You are to come with me, child. As Judge Magister of the Ninth Division of the Archadian Empire I hereby place you under arrest for trespassing within the imperial city and the upper quarters of Archades."

"The hell?" Maqui burst out indignantly. How was he supposed to know he was trespassing - and what or where the hell was Archades? "What did I do?"

That was a stupid question and in the back of his mind he hoped the Tin Man didn't comment on the lack of logic, so quickly he reworded his query in as placating a manner as he could. "Seriously, I don't even know where I am. Cut me a little slack - where am I?"

Wordlessly the man in the suit of armor, metal-clad fingers tightening around his bare wrist, turned to walk briskly in the other direction; Maqui was forced to stumble along behind him to avoid getting his arm pulled out of socket, catching horrible balance on each uneven cobblestone he was forced to fall over.

So that's a no.

“You will obey if you value your life,” the suit of armor hissed, and Maqui would have flinched if he wasn't struggling so hard to retain his balance in the first place. Intimidation? Check. Sounded like Snow could take a few pointers from this guy; the monsters wouldn't mess with him ever again, let alone the Guardian Corps. Jeez.

"Where are we going?" the blonde protested weakly, feeling his wrist bones creak with the exertion of being nearly pulled out of their joints and twisted and crunched together.

Trespassing gets me arrested like this? I'd hate to see a felony, Maqui thought to himself dryly.