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Who: [Bad username or site: fastest title=Joshua @ livejournal.com] & [Bad username or site: bedninja title=Pharos @ livejournal.com]
What: Pharos finds out what happened and, having promised once to keep an eye on him, decides he had best check in on the crazy escaped convict! Joshua does not enjoy roughing it like a hobo.
When: November 20th [Night]
Where: Beneath Alexstrasza's tree.
Rating: PG (For now, but they talk about creeper things sometimes...)

Zelman had been a big help, really. Even though it had been an equal trade of information for supplies, he was still rather grateful. Knowing how fickle the vampire could be (was he really one to judge?) had made it somewhat of a risk to drop by the mansion.

Joshua hadn't stuck around there for long, though. Just because he was confident in his abilities didn't mean he was an idiot. The situation looked pretty bad for him. Sure he had been broken out of that damn cage, but what with the timing, he knew that 'traitor' was going to be added to his list of crimes. After all, he was the only prisoner to escape, and at the same time the outposts were destroyed and two other residents went missing? He might as well have announced that he blew up the outpost with a blow horn.

Honestly, his escape had been somewhat tame compared to how badly he could have made it. He could have done more to injure Maladict, he could have released all the other prisoners, he could have wrecked the consoles, and he most certainly could have taken the other confiscated weapons from the vault. Joshua wasn't really sure why he had kept the destruction to a minimum, really... It was strange. For some reason his hand had stayed at every turn.

He had left Legato behind for a reason. While he did feel some level of companionship with the man, he was aware that the poor sod was on suicide watch. Releasing him wouldn't have gotten either of them anywhere useful. And Tyki, well... Joshua wanted to find out if he could escape another way. Seeing how the other man acted was fun sometimes. The rest of the prisoners that were left, well, Joshua hadn't much cared for.

His best hope now was that those on the Peace Patrol would suspect he had run off with the other outsiders, and thus wouldn't be looking very hard for him. Maybe they would try Riful's manor, Zelman's mansion, and then leave it at that. Maybe. He wasn't scared, but he was wary. They had captured him twice now, and he wasn't going to be made the fool a third time.

For tonight, he would rest, and he would move on to a different location in the morning. At least this spot was supernaturally warm in comparison to, well, everywhere else outside. Not to mention there were no fallen leaves, and somehow flowers were still blooming.

It was peaceful enough for him to almost fall asleep, especially with the blanket and pillow he'd swiped from Zelman's, and yet. Even in the comfort of this area, he wasn't about to let himself fall into a deep sleep. There was always a chance someone could still find him, and so one hand remained latched to the hilt of the silver sword that Deathwing had once forged for him.

The teenage boy didn't exactly need a sword to protect himself, but somehow it was also comforting in a way completely opposite from the tree. In his half-dozing state, he could recall the terrifying but exciting words roared by the behemoth of a dragon once not so long ago.

Death's eyes are always upon you.

For some reason, it drew a soft smile, and his thoughts drifted to Pharos as he truly begun to nod off.

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And Death's eyes are indeed always upon Joshua, even if Pharos himself wasn't exactly the one to say them. Though he remained silent on much these days, he never really stopped paying attention to the people he had decided were deserving (or worthy) of it; and neither was he unaware that Joshua had escaped when he actually heard about it. The timing was unfortunate, but Pharos was glad that it had happened to some degree. Even he would dislike being kept in one place for so long, and the only reason he hadn't freed Joshua personally was because of his involvement with Riful.

But now he'd been freed by someone else, and Pharos didn't have to worry about that anymore. Que sera, sera. What he did have to worry about, however, was that Joshua seemed to be on the run now, and it was hardly a good time of year for something like that. People died so often outside in the cold.

Because Death's eyes are indeed always upon Joshua (or almost always upon him; Pharos does take breaks from time to time when nothing in particular happens) it's really no trouble at all for him to find the boy - and even Joshua will be able to feel it when he arrives, the distortion he creates in this place so full of life, like an empty void in the center of it. He appears at the base of the tree, and almost immediately tries to look Joshua over.

"You did not ask for very much when you were at Zelman's." Because of course he was listening, at least to a certain degree. He did live there after all. "Am I to take it that you were able to leave relatively unharmed?"

He most definitely senses it, but it doesn't alarm him. It's familiar, even if he hasn't really felt it in awhile. The only reason he starts in surprise is because he'd actually started to doze off, which he really had been trying to avoid.

Sleepily, he rubs at his eyes with his free hand and sits up to check out his surprise visitor. "Pharos?"

Joshua checks over his shoulder, as if to make sure nobody else is with the 'boy'. He can't help it, really. Who can he actually trust? Especially since he does know Pharos is sore about the Riful thing. He expects it, really, knowing the beating he once took.

But he knows he would be able to sense it if Pharos was feeling vengeful, so he sighs and slumps back against the large tree trunk. He hadn't been feeling very well lately in the prison, so now he's even more exhausted. It had been a long, surprising day. But he does his best not to let the weariness and instability show.

"I took what I needed. ...Maybe a few books." Escapees need entertainment when freezing to death, after all. He wonders if this spot will still be warm when it starts to snow. "I didn't even have to fight anybody. The witch handled it."

There's an odd lilt to the claim, though, like he's unsure about something.

A small smile appears on Pharos's face as Joshua sits up. It was much easier to see him when he wasn't lying down, and though he couldn't tell if the other was injured internally, externally he could see no sign of injury; and as far as he could tell, that was a good sign. Pharos takes a step back, and seats himself on one of the smaller roots nearby, only taking his eyes off Joshua to make sure he wouldn't trip himself by trying to walk backwards.

"You do not have to worry, Joshua. No one else is here but you and I." He is still quite bitter about what happened with him and Riful - but since Joshua wasn't directly involved with what happened, Pharos doesn't blame him for it. He certainly wasn't happy that he was involved with Riful... but that's why he never came to help despite the occasional visit to the other's prison cell.

"A witch... is that who the other person there with you was?" He inclines his head slightly, expression thoughtful. "There were quite a number there that I did not recognize..." He doesn't notice the uncertainty, though he does take note of how tired Joshua seems. It was... a bit worrying.

Shutting his eyes, he recalls the nights events before shaking his head a bit. "She wasn't a prisoner, though. I was the only one she helped escape. I'm not sure why she didn't just let everyone go if it was meant to be a distraction, but... There wasn't much time, I suppose."

Deciding that since he's up, he might as well eat something, Joshua opens his eyes again and leans over to open up a leather backpack. After digging around for a second, he pulls out some marshmallows. ...What? So he considered marshmallows an important ration to take for his 'trip'. Clearly he's got his priorities straight!

Don't worry, he's got real food in there, too.

"Normally I would have stopped to fight the guard. Or destroy the place. It's not like I didn't want to..."

With a shrug, he pops a marshmallow into his mouth before offering out the bag for the other boy. Pharos may not be human, but Joshua can remember manners even all the way out here.

"She was not someone that I recognized... it seems quite a number of odd things have been happening here as of late." But he doesn't want to think on it too much. If he realized anything too important and didn't tell anyone else, then he was bound to upset someone along the way (like Uru). It just seemed like the best thing to not do very much about it right now. It wasn't as though this whole thing had played out against his favor, after all... things were picking up speed again.

Unfortunately, Pharos couldn't even begin to question Joshua's priorities. He would have brought cookies. And besides, it was totally normal for people to eat marshmallows while sleeping outside, wasn't it? Of course it was!

"It is likely for the best that you did not do so, at least, do you not think? It likely would have drawn much more unwanted attention than you already received."

Pharos watches him eat the marshmallow, but once he's certain he has the procedure for it down he reaches into the offered bag and pulls one out for himself, popping it into his mouth as well. ...Oh, that was much lighter than he'd been expecting.

Joshua doesn't really respond to the lack of recognition to Nancy (Celo?) or the extra ruckus he could have caused. It's something Aion would have told him, though. Hanging around to inflict extra damage would have been arrogant, and Aion had always warned him not to underestimate his opponents.

Perhaps he had before, in that last battle for Riful. He had been confused, loyal to her cause and yet betraying her at the same time. Eager for some sort of change, for something different, for him to have a purpose again. Far too distracted and eager to inflict damage on her, on everyone, on everything...he hadn't handled his opponents as carefully as he should have.

Knuckles whiten as he grips the bag a little too tightly, mashing a few of the marshmallows. Of course he relaxes the grip once he realizes, and glances back over to Pharos.

...The expression really is too amusing.

"You've never had a s'more before, I'll bet."

It's always a mistake to underestimate the people that arrive in the Castle, as far as Pharos is able to tell. After all... if he was there, then why wouldn't other, nearly as strong beings be there as well? The other Joshua had certainly been powerful enough. But Pharos doesn't much care about the lack of reply, and instead just concentrates on actually eating the marshmallow in his mouth, which is considerably more difficult than he initially thought it would be.

His mouth is unfortunately a bit on the small side, so it takes a bit of chewing for him to actually get it finished, and even then he ends up talking with his mouth half full. "I do not..." He pauses when he realizes that isn't quite working, and just swallows the rest of it that's in his mouth. "...I do not believe I have, no. Although I do believe that I know what it is."

Unfortunately, part of the problem had been that his opponents (mostly) had looked human. And having become accustomed to fighting demons, well... He supposes he should have expected more from them. He had been human once, though never a normal one.

He isn't really sure what he is now.

It's pleasant to have something to take his mind of these concerns, which Pharos' reaction is more than accomplishing. Because contrary to what many people think, Joshua does have them. They're just few and far between...often only witness during his fits or mood swings. But in many ways he's still the same boy he was before.

The boy who doesn't want to be left behind. And yet, even his rescuers couldn't bring him with. Through no fault of their own, really... If not for his horns restricting him, he probably would have gone with them.

"It's one of the best things you'll ever eat. I don't have the graham crackers, but if you bring some next time, we can make them." There he goes with the assumption. Next time. Maybe not so much an assumption as a gut feeling.

Unscrewing the water bottle, he sets it between them to help the poor newbie wash down the marshmallows if he needs, along with the bag, keeping a few for himself.

"Another good thing to eat is pudding. Have you had pudding?"

Pharos would argue that he's Joshua. For all the importance people seemed to put on themselves, he'd seen so many occasions after they had died where they became utterly obsessed with the idea of not being human anymore. Of being a ghost, or a demon, or whatever one was supposedly meant to become once they died, and Pharos had never seen the sense in it. If they were still them, shouldn't they be happy?

...He wonders if the same could really be said for Joshua, though. He wasn't exactly the same as he had been a few months ago after all. But it didn't much matter at this point; he had said he would look after Joshua, and he would, even if he was a bit different than he used to be.

But actually being a fan of food, Pharos doubts that these s'mores things are nay better than cookies are. He'd eaten a lot in his time at the Castle, and he never did find anything better. But he smiles. "If that is all that is required to make them, then I should have no difficulty in bringing some with me next time.

He doesn't quite realize what the purpose of the water is though (or that it's being offered to him) so Pharos doesn't reach for it. He just licks at the inside of his mouth where there are weird sticky bits, looking far too much like an awkward child.

"I believe I have had pudding at least once before. It comes in small plastic containers, is that correct?"

Cookies are good. Joshua definitely likes those.

But that inquiry immediately makes him shake his head, almost insistently, like Pharos just committed some dire error. But he's smiling regardless. The food he's brought along with him might be in containers, but that's certainly not the type of food he likes.

"No, no. Home-made! That's the best." Another marshmallow and drifting of his gaze, as if lost in thought before he's suddenly 'back' again and reaching for the bottle so he can take a drink himself.

"It's hard to find any cooking that's as good here, though."

"...I do not believe I understand. Is most food not typically made by someone? What is the difference if it was made in a home?"

After all, he'd had plenty of good food since he came to the Castle. And while the cookies were definitely the best, he'd had other food in the past that was really good, too; Like stew that Bakura's host had made, or cake in town with Minato.

"Do you dislike the food here?" His gaze drifts towards the bag of marshmallows, the bottle of water. He's quite certain neither of those were really 'home made', but Joshua seemed to like them enough.

Another shake of his head, though less indignant this time, he sets the water bottle back down. Really, Joshua can think of a lot of food that he likes, even at the castle, or in the city. But...

"It's not the same. Food that's been packaged and put on shelves isn't fresh. A freshly prepared meal, if they're a good cook, is the best. And back home, Fiore is the best cook I know. I haven't had anything here yet that can really compare."

His gaze becomes dreamy and distant once more, as if trailing over fond memories. But when he speaks again, his tone is completely different. It's softer, lilting, and occasionally the slightest of pauses interrupts a word. It isn't a memory this time, or any reality.

"Maybe only my sister is better. She didn't cook at the orphanage, but... She's grown into a lady now. I'm sure her cooking is the best."

Just pure fantasy.

Pharos was never an expert on facial expressions. He had been told by the other Joshua, the Composer, that they were very important; that body language was something Pharos should learn, because it could tell him more than a person's words ever could or would.

But Pharos can't really see facial expressions the way other people can, the way a human can. So he's always done more listening; enraptured by sound, because it's no different for him than it is anyone else. And it is not difficult to tell that there is something off about the way Joshua starts speaking again.

"...Is that so, Joshua?"

The only problem was that he was never certain if pointing such things out, now that Joshua was so much more unstable, was really for the best. He didn't want Joshua to die after all, and if he tried to prevent Pharos from assisting him, that could very well happen (as far as he knew). So he refrains.

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