9/18/99

The door rustles softly, the standard sound heralding the arrival of Tarrant. And lo and behold, he does arrive carrying a small package wrapped in waterproofed paper. He's grinning in -far- too pleased a fashion as he fastens the door again swiftly, before the heat leeches out.

Corian is all but hidden under a massive blanket, a pretty sure sign that she was recently outside as well. Enough of her face is visible that you can probably see her smile, and maybe infer that her eyebrows are lifted. "Welcome home, cha'trez. Did you bring more ice cream? And how was your day?"

Tarrant peels off gloves and be-iced parka, and tucks them near the door. Padding over he moces down to plop next to you with the package, grinning inanely. "Not ice cream. And it was all right. Just setting up things and waiting for the go-ahead. On the way home though, I passed this new tent...and ya' gotta see this." From the wrapping he tugs a stuffed critter. It's a minature of one of the giant furry critters of this world. "Isn't it -neat-?"

A hand appears from the blanket--no, see, it's Corian's hand, not shades of the Addams family. Anyway, said hand reaches to pet the stuffed critter. "That's just adorable," she approves. "Much, much better than the ice cream." There's a brief pause, then. "Do you think that we will get the go-ahead soon, then?"

"If we're lucky," Tarrant scritches the critter's ears, even though it's just a toy. "Then we can get this over and done with. I'll admit I'm not so fond of such assignments, and waiting's always the worst." He's kind and doesn't attempt to cuddle close, considering his be-iced state. That would just be mean. "And honestly, the powers that be likely want to wait even less than we do."

Corian drapes the blanket around herself and reaches to take one of your hands between her two, the better to cause warmth. See, she's got ulterior motives. She -likes- the cuddling, but, no, doesn't like the ice. "And then we can go home," she says, with a brief smile. Nope, she definitely doesn't like this part of the assignment, but she's also not going to -say- that.

Tarrant is not about to object to warmth for his fingers at this point, although there's a decided twinge of guilt about said fact. "Home would be a wonderful thing," he agrees with a bemused smile. "And -warmth-." There's a quiet chiming, and he glances up towards the communication device. "Maybe that's the go-ahead?"

Corian reaches to flip the switch to listen/record, and sighs very quietly at the garble that results. "Encoded, so it probably is, yes. Let me just..." Of course there's no actual elaboration about what she's just going to do, mainly because that would involve being more creative. She does it, though, probably involving sending the message through a key or something, and then nods. "And then we are to get offworld immediately afterwards," she adds.

Tarrant climbs to his feet, moving to check already packed gear. "We're set yes? Except for odds and ends and the tent? And the tent's getting left to cover for us a bit. Where do I meet you afterwards?" He drops down in front of one pack, setting the stuffed toy aside to rummage in it for things far more deadly.

Corian nods, absently taking the toy to tuck it in one of the packs. "We have everything that we need, yes," she agrees, after a quick visual check. There's a hint of a frown at the mention of separation, and she offers, a touch hesitantly, "If you need someone to watch your back, cha'trez... well, that -is- why I am here." Well, that and she can speak the language.

"Love," Tarrant gives you a slightly pained look. "As much as I would appreciate backup, and as terribly good at keeping me out of trouble as you are, I honestly would rather you stayed on the outskirts of this. Either outside the Ministry, or in a different hall one. It's not the safety of it, but, well...I'd rather you stayed innocent of this."

Now, this is a discussion that Corian never would have imagined herself having, say ten years ago. Not that she particularly -wants- to go with you while you kill someone, but, well, she worries. Apparently, she feels compelled to mention, "Cha'trez, I am not quite so innocent as I look." She starts in on taking down the last of the electronic stuffs, collapsing it neatly, adding quietly, "If you do not wish me to be there, though, I will wait somewhere else." And she'll worry, but she's not quite so evil as to -say- that.

"It would...make this easier, were you somewhat removed." Tarrant looks rather sheepish as he snags his pack after closing it off neatly. "Not too far removed. It won't be but a dozen feet or so, off. The Ministry's a tiny place. Within yelling distance, easily, should something go wrong."

Corian doesn't look even remotely pleased, but she nods. "And we have the radios," she says quietly. "I will wait outside, so that I can get inside quickly, if need be." She closes off her pack as well, and reaches to snag such necessities as gloves and scarves and such. Oh, and a gun, she's actually got one of those, and, likely thanks to some form of disturbing training, can shoot it.

Tarrant tugs on parka and gloves, and re-settles his pack before slipping out into the snow, but not without a wince for the biting cold. Time has not acclimated him to it in the slightest. "Always best to cover the retreat," he agrees quietly, although over the radio. "I'll be glad indeed to say farewell to this world."

Corian follows, of course, though not immediately after you, so it doesn't look like you're together. She takes up a position looking at various stuffs at a tent near the Ministry. Yes, she's really very interested. Really. Over the radio, she says, "Warmth will be very nice. I am even looking forward to the shuttle."

Tarrant slips around the building's edge, blending in with the traffic a moment before all but dissapearing. The radio's quiet buzz returns, "Okay, my entrance is still good to go. I'll chirp you again in a moment." There's several long moments, and then a quietly muffled curse in Millian, followed by "Amatuers!" The radio's quiet a moment or two more and then there's a decidedly upset, "In the name of...get -down-." And then there's a boom. A really big one. Ministry? What ministry? Okay, so parts exist, but most of it was a tent, and the fire's heading up it at an alarming rate. "You okay?"

"Yes." Corian's voice has that disturbingly calm tone that suggests that she's faking that, because, hey, she really doesn't like things that go boom, especially when the man she loves is inside said thing. "Are you? And where are you, Tarrant?" Of course, she's moved with the rest of the gawkers, and, hey, somebody's probably doing something involving firefighting.

"In between some filing cabinets. As soon as there's a clear spot, I'm going to slip back out there. Stupid..." There's a string of quiet and inventive phrases about what amatuers can do with themselves. Tarrant is decidedly less than thrilled. "Somebody's been tipped off. But some other folks were trying. The bomb's there fault. Target's down, but one of those guards is screaming names and ID numbers off to everybody. I don't know who told, but they know who we are. They're closing the port."

There's a bit of a pause before Corian replies. "Filing cabinets. That would be the east side of the Ministry, yes? I'll double around and meet you there. Between the crowds and the chaos, nobody will notice. Are you all right?"

"East side, check. And yeah, battered but okay. I'm going to need to swipe a different parka to get out of here without being an obvious object of suspicion though." There's a pause from Tarrant's end before he adds, "Aha, a couple of a size here, cloaking room. I'll snag one."

Corian didn't use a contraction in speech, really. It's a figment of your imagination, that apostrophe. "Do make sure that you choose a -warm- one in the appropriate size, cha'trez. We will have to come up with some sort of alternative to departing immediately, it sounds." There's a pause, and then she adds, a touch of wryness to her tone, "The fire is warm, at least."

"Trust me, I'll pick the warmest one I can find." Tarrant sounds a bit sheepish. There's a few moments, and then a familiar, well to you, shape looms up as another of the onlookers. Thankfully his pants were gray already. The beswiped parka is a neutral grayish beige, comfortably bland and common, but he still reeks of smoke and the acrid scent of explosive material. He rests a hand on your shoulder lightly, "We're going to have to find another way out."

Corian gives you a long look, perhaps to assure herself that you really aren't grievously injured. "That sounds like an adventure," she says, tone still quite calm. "There is another port, yes? It is to the north--" Where it's colder, naturally, "If I recall correctly, but the distance is currently eluding me."

Tarrant's body parts are all attached, and while the parka effectively hides him from view, he seems to be intact. He nods simply to the question, pausing to consider. "It depends on the form of transportation. A couple of hours by skimmer. If they had skimmers on this world." He turns away from the fire, weaving back through an curving road headed towards the northern edge of the city.

Corian weaves along with you. Yes, they know who they're looking for, but there's no way she's going to separate herself from you at this particular instance. "Well, there are other alternatives. Those carts that the people use for bulk transport, for example--but there are not many of those, that I have seen."

"Or those burdenbeasts, the big fuzzy ones," Tarrant doesn't seem to have any desire to be seperated either, keeping as close to you as the situation allows. "Done much riding of any sort?"

Corian tips a hand back and forth. "Once. The horse was almost as disconcerted by the event as I was, I think. Kashid," she adds, a touch sheepishly, "Was not a place very conducive to that sort of thing. Though the big fuzzy burdenbeasts would be -warm-."

"Warm'd be good," Tarrant skews his trail a bit, heading towards a corral of sorts. "And it'd give us something to hang the packs on, properly. That way we could tuck in from the wind better."

Corian, naturally, follows. "You know," she observes, with just a hint of a smile, "I do realize that this is not horse-thievery, but there does seem to be something rather appropriate about you... borrowing a burdenbeast. If only you had your spurs, then we could ride off into the sunset." Hey, maybe the sun sets to the north here. You never can tell. "And these animals can move at a pretty good clip, though I do not know how long they can sustain the pace. There was that one that we saw running last week."

Tarrant seems to find the concept of him thieving horses vastly amusing, despite the seriousness of the situation. He gestures with one soot and such coated hand, as if tipping a hat. "Hey, it's welladay unto time I stole m'first horse." Yes, his drawl deepens for the comment, it's not that I've forgotten how to type. He slips into the corral quietly, regarding the animals a moment. "True enough. They must move fairly fast, or folks'd've brought in skimmers."

Corian remains standing just beyond the fence, apparently content to let -you- snag the animal. After all, they seemed much smaller when she wasn't contemplating riding one. "Hopefully," she observes, "It will be fast enough to get us to the alternate port before it is decided to close it as well. As fond as I have grown of that tea, it is not quite worth being on this planet any longer than is absolutely necessary."

Tarrant is accustomed to the idea of giant riding critters, from the giant spider-esque riding beasts at his parents place. Still, it takes him a moment to sneak a saddled creature out of the corral. Pausing a beat, he then scrambles up to its back before leaning -way- down to offer you help up. "We'll see. It may be a day or two or three though. We'll have to see."

Oh, dear. Corian manages not to look dismayed, instead taking the assistance with a grateful little smile. Ooh, definitely an adventure. She murmurs something about riding burdenbeasts not being in the job description, though she sounds vaguely amused. "We can keep our fingers crossed," she adds, as she does her best to settle herself. "This will certainly be better than walking, for sure."

Tarrant makes sure you're settled before turning to the critter. It takes a few false starts and stops, but he manages to get the thing started at a ground-eating lope off down the road. Not quite a run, but a decent speed. Tarrant tugs the stays open on his jacket, shifting in closer to you and tucking the edges around you to both offer his own heat, and share the protection of your agency made jacket. "Just think of it as more vacation time they'll owe us."

And this way, Corian can lean against you and get a bit of balance against the critter's gait. Even if it's smooth, she's not used to this sort of thing. Dismounting is going to be a -real- adventure. "And we will certainly get it," she says rather grimly. Uhoh. The department's in trub-ble. "Do you know who the others were, who were trying for the target?"

"Nobody department, that's for sure." Tarrant tucks himself protectively around you, settling in for the ride. He's quiet a moment, guiding the animal onto the main track heading off towards the other port. "I'm thinking maybe the Abrarians, they've been wanting their two cents in on this situation for years."

Corian, with a vaguely derogatory murmur about the followers of Abra, nods. "That would not suprise me, no." She lifts a gloved hand to rub lightly at her eyes, then she peers upwards at the sky for a moment. Dark clouds, how ominous. "Well, they have certainly made the situation much more involved." Corian, master of the understatement.

Tarrant rummages in one of the packs for a spare set of gloves, peeling them on over his begrimed hands. He echoes the glance towards the sky and then nudges a knee at the burdenbeast's side, causing it to pick up the pace. "The weather's looking a bit scary. Maybe we can outride it. Snow wouldn't do us much good." He mhhmms, "A lot more involved. The firebomb got the target at least, as well as the would be assassin."

"Thank goodness you escaped," Corian says, her voice quiet but fervent. She doesn't make any comments on the goodness of the various other deaths, though she might be thinking something along those lines. Instead, she inquires, "Do you think we should keep an eye out for a place to wait out the nasty weather, or keep going for the port?"

"Depends on how tired you are, love," Tarrant considers the sky again beofre tucking an arm close around you. "There's caves all through here, we can find a spot if you'd like it, or keep on pressing through."

Corian turns her head enough to offer a brief smile. "It is growing late," she says, "But perhaps we should put a bit more distance between us and the Ministry before we stop. How are you holding up, cha'trez?"

Tarrant considers the clouds a moment, then turns back to the road. "Yeah, a little bit further. But sleep's sounding awfully good soon. Holing up might be for the best. Then we can get going in the morning and mix with traffic."

Corian casts another look over her shoulder, this one touched with a bit of concern. "If you would like to stop now, though, love, I would not object to that. That sky -does- look rather distressing."

"If we can find a snug hole to bunker down in, let's take it. But otherwise let's keep up a bit. Hopefully something will present itself soon enough." Tarrant hugs in a bit closer a moment, although the most of his attention is on guiding the critter. Flakes of snow begin drizzling down, one or two at a time at first, and then more.

Corian looks decidedly unthrilled as the snow starts to appear, lifting one hand to adjust her scarf. She, for her part, turns her attention towards the landscape, perhaps for finding a spot for hiding. She's silent for quite a few moments, and then she inquires, "To the left, cha'trez, just next to the whiptrees. That looks to me like a cave entrance."

Tarrant glances up in the indicated direction, and nodding tugs lightly at the left hand rein, bringing the creature towards the trees. Tugging the beastie to a halt he slides down, landing carefully. Poking his head in a moment he nods cheerfully if tiredly. "A cave indeed. Big enough for us and Scruffy, here. Keep out the wind and all, and we can get some rest." He offers arms up, to help guide you down, although apparently he trusts your balance enough to do the bulk of dismounting.

Corian does manage dismounting, though she seems rather grateful for your assistance, as she wavers a touch near the end. "And we can put Scruffy at the outside, so he can be a bit of a windblock," she suggests, avoiding the wind being top on her priorities. She smiles briefly at you before snagging her pack and rummaging for a lighting device.

Tarrant gathers down the other pack, and then the reins again. "Exactly." He offers you a swift smile, although a slight one. "Let's get in and curl up, eh?"

Corian ducks into the tent after flicking on the light. "It does not look as if there is anything alive in here," she observes. "That is encouraging. Curling up sounds like an -excellent- idea." Of course, the air mattresses were probably among the stuff left behind, so it won't be quite so comfortable, but hey, it's out of the wind and the snow.

Tarrant follows you into the cave, leading Scruffy in afterwards and convincing the beastie to stadnd blocking the door. "We can snap the sleeping bags together." He adds wistfully, "Maybe trigger one of those warming disks and tuck it in there as well? I know we've not many, but...well, hopefully we'll be out of here soon."

Corian finds a convenient outcropping for the light, looking briefly unthrilled at the generally muddy state of the ground. Let the layering of stuff... begin! "And I think that using one of the warming disks is an -excellent- idea, love. The weather is particularly nasty today, and I think the warmth is necessary." She rummages for her sleeping bag, then, starting the various unsnappingness necessary for snapping it to the other.

Tarrant rummages for a waterproof tarp, and unrolls the thin thing neatly before unpacking his own sleeping bag as well. He settles down onto the edge of the waterproof, settling the bag on the downside edge. Unsnapping the edge of his as well, he offers with a gesture to fasten the two together. "I think the warmth'd be more than welcome, that's for sure. And we'll be better for the sleep."

Corian offers over her own sleeping bag, then starts to rummage for a warming disk. "Just so," she agrees quietly. "Warmth and sleep will do us both a world of good. We will have to see about locating some food for Scruffy if we keep at this much longer, unless he would appreciate ration bars."

Tarrant sets about connecting the bags before then slipping out of the oversized parka. He's a mess of soot, but thankfully the thick sweater and flannel he was wearing beneath protected him from any burns. Said sweater is about done for though, unless the singed look comes into fashion. "There should be travellers waystations, if the map bears out. We can get him some snacks at one of those. For now though, he should be okay. We're not loaded with a full set of gear like these folks tend to. And it was a short distance."

Corian nods her agreement to that, though not without a grimace for the besootedness. But, hey, she doesn't spot burns, this is a good thing. She helps to spread out the connected sleeping bags, before perching on hers to remove boots and scarf and her own parka. "Hopefully it will not take us very long to reach the port," she murmurs, as she tucks into the bag. "And then we can go home."

Tarrant peels off the outer sweater with a vague wince at the inrush of cold air at doing so. He rummages in a pack for another and pulls it on quickly. He then takes a small gadget and sets it near the entrance. "To keep watch. It'll squeal to our radios." Then he clambers back to the bags, shedding boots and tugging the bag open to aid your entrance. "Home'll be good. Nice and warm, and lots of time off."

Corian scoots into the bags as well, twisting the warming disk between her fingers to start it going, and then tosses said disk to the bottom of the bags, the better to warm cold feet and let the least amount of heat-escaping. "That," she says, as she cuddles close, "Sounds absolutely wonderful. But sleep, for now, and a bit of warm, at least."

Tarrant slides in close to you, apparently either oblivious to the mess he is, or thinking warmth's more important. "Sleep, and warm, and ooohhh..." As the warming disk does its work he all but melts, oblivious as well to the less than thrilling location as it turns into a warmer one. "Mmm'night..."

Corian, as she hugs you close, obviously doesn't much care about the mess you are. And, hey, you're sharing the mess, though she doesn't look quite so scruffy, as it's just rubbing off a bit. "Good night, cha'trez," she murmurs, eyes closing. "Sleep well."

Tarrant apparently has all intention of doing just that, as with a vague murmur he's out cold. Or out warm rather. The warming disk has apparently made his day.

Corian doesn't take much longer to get out warm, one arm curled over you in a rather protective embrace.

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