paixaorpg | [active]

The streets were lively that afternoon with citizens going about their usual day, a small crowd of people more a sea of feet to Timon. The meerkat had foolishly chosen to travel to the restaurant by foot, all the while dragging behind him a sock sized bag. He grunted and pushed forward, hoping his destination was closer than it felt. Already he had walked a fair distance and had begun to feel a familiar aching in his feet. Besides the whole walking thing, Timon could easily understand why Pumbaa was didn’t ‘do’ crowds.

“Hey,” he cried out, a heavy boot having suddenly landed in front of his path. “Watch where you’re going!” A high heeled shoe stepped on his bag while a sandaled foot nearly knocked him off his feet. “Oi, I’m walkin’ here!” The swarm of feet around him paid no heed, instead appearing to land closer to him than before. The meerkat gave a cry in frustration, the feeling of utter defeat about to overcome him before he made one last attempt to run out of the crowd. As luck would have it, he stumbled out right in front of Haja o Que Houver.

Out of breath, Timon looked up to find a demon that held resemblance to one known as Vyers waiting outside the restaurant. He glanced over his shoulder at the bag he had been carrying before he slowly made his way to Krichevskoy, head gradually tilting to the side.

What in the name of the Kings of the Past had happened to his hair?

There. That voice was unmistakable. Krichevskoy tried to peer through the bustling crowd for the meerkat, hoping the people might thin out a little more to give him a better view.

He wasn't expecting the silence that followed once Timon approached him, and he shifted a little bit before setting his gaze on the small bag he was carrying. "What is that?"

“What’s that?” Timon repeated without turning his glance from Krichevskoy. “What’s that on your head?” Pointing accusingly at the two antennas, the meerkat winced at their repulsive appearance. He had not only forgotten to mention those but also their striking resemblance to Laharl’s. Although, he supposed they did have their uses; they would serve as excellent reins. The cape the demon had chosen to newly dawn, however would easily pose a problem were he to ride on Krichevskoy’s shoulder. His nose wrinkled further with dislike.

“And what’s with the cape? You’re gonna get stuck in doors with that thing – not to mention it looks completely ridiculous.” He sighed and seated himself to allow his aching feet some much needed rest. “Some things never change.” Timon continued with a shake of his head.

Krichevskoy pursed his lips. "That is my hair," he replied flatly.

"There is nothing wrong with wearing a cape. It is dignified--and not to mention the perfect shade of red. And, I might add, they have come back into style, just as I predicted. The number of demons wearing them has gone up considerably as of late."

Something about this conversation seemed a bit familiar...

The demons response failed to bring comfort to Timon. Instead, he continued to stare at the two antennas as though they had suddenly sprouted out right there and then. “What happened to it?” he asked simply.

Clearly Timon would have difficulty grasping the fact that Krichevskoy would intentionally wish for his hair to appear as so, especially when the meerkat found it almost offensive to look at. It was the hair that made the man, or at least part of him. And that hair did not shine in the demons favour as far as he was concerned. Perhaps he would cut them off one night while his old acquaintance was asleep. It would be for the greater good and one day, when Krichevskoy finally saw his way, he would thank him for it.

He’d thank him regarding capes too that day. Once he got caught in enough doors and tangled up in things he would see the meerkat to eye. Unfortunately, it sounded as though that day was far from them. Timon drew a sigh. “You’re wearing a blanket around your neck!” he argued. “Capes ain’t regal. Why, if you ask me, they’re the opposite. Has anyone seen you in that thing yet?”

"Nothing happened to it, I simply allowed it to grow out once again." It actually felt quite nice to not have to cut them so often. Important as it was to ensure he looked his best, keeping the antennae short enough to keep them from sticking out became tiresome after awhile. And he had always thought it had been his most important, identifying feature in the past.

"Of course others have seen my cape! Not a single member of the party had any objections," he said a bit huffily. "And I was not the only one wearing a cape. There was a vampire with one as well." What in the world did the meerkat mean, calling it a blanket? His cape might have been a little torn at the ends, but it was all strategic, every rip and tear carefully placed to add a certain aesthetic.

Not that the aesthetic was easy to see when his cape was in motion, but that was but a minor detail.

The meerkat shook his head in disagreement. The antennae looked terrible in his opinion and should have remained in the demons past where they belonged. He had been concerned about his costume cape getting caught in doors when his new hairstyle could easily have done just the same. What was it with this guy and humiliating himself? At this rate, Timon would likely never know.

“The party?” He asked, unfamiliar with the name for ones comrades. “Was it a costume party, because that’d explain a lot.” Where else could Krichevskoy not be the only one wearing one? The meerkat rolled his eyes, and had been about to continue when a new thought came to mind. “Wait a minute! You had a party without me?” Having returned to his feet, Timon crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. “What gives? I thought we were friends and here I don’t even get an invite to your return party.”

"Not that sort of party! A group of people!" Krichevskoy insisted, but paused to correct himself. "Well, I suppose it was technically a political party as well..." Though how exactly that worked, Krichevskoy wasn't entirely sure. Really, the political systems of different netherworlds could be strange in their details. At least the gist of them were mostly the same.

"I have not had the time to hold the sort of party you are talking about."

Having risen to his feet again, Timon gave Krichevskoy a suspicious look. “I know people.” He said while he threw the bag he had been carrying over his shoulder once again. “And I got ways of knowing if you’re lying to me. I’ll take your word for it this time, but next time…” The meerkat narrowed his eyes at the demon then turned to enter the restaurant. Er, by enter the restaurant, that was rather wait to enter the establishment. He frowned at the doors as though he had expected them to knowingly open for him.

“Well?” Timon looked back to Krichevskoy. “Are we eating or what? All these politics are starting to make my head hurt.” Likely because he had been forced to think for once.

Krichevskoy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Timon not knowing the word hardly meant he was lying. Just because he had had to twist the truth or lie by omission in the past (and somewhat recently) didn't mean he was a habitual liar.

He hoped he wasn't to that point, at least. Krichevskoy had always considered his integrity to be one of his most admirable traits.

Krichesvkoy held open the door for Timon, waves of nostalgia flowing over him as he looked inside the restaurant. "I did not think I would miss this place as much as I did," he said with a hint of wonder.

Timon scanned the restaurant, paying no mind to the demons words. “Dibs on the booth!” he said, pointing to an open table. It was nestled away in a familiar corner, just beside a window. Without waiting to be seated, the meerkat helped himself to the available table. He tossed his bag up onto the seat and climbed up top after it. Once he’d pulled himself completely up onto the table, he gestured for Krichevskoy to join him.

“You catch a whiff of that kitchen?” the meerkat rubbed his paws together eagerly. “Woo! This place really knows how to call to a guy. You, uh, know already what you’re getting?” Just because he had the menu memorized, that did not mean Krichevskoy had too. After all, Timon had only taken into account the pictures, not the names of the non featured items.

Krichevskoy followed after Timon and sat down. He opened the menu, glancing over the options. As much as he remembered the food being good, for the life of him he couldn't remember what he used to order. "You are free to order before me if you already know what you want. I think I will be just a moment longer."

Was it too early for steak? Maybe a sandwich would be better for a lunch.

After a moment, Krichevskoy looked up from the menu. "Even knowing that it was so little time here, I keep wanting to ask what happened while I was absent." He shook his head. "I will have to get over that feeling."

In the time it had taken for Krichevskoy to look up from his menu, Timon had turned his glance to the window. He pressed his paws against the glass, leaning against it as though eager to return outside. The meerkat did not turn to address the demon when he spoke, only narrowed his eyes at those he had been watching outside. “I guess so. I wouldn’t know.” He had never left Paixao and those who had returned had never remembered walking its streets. Pulling away from the window, Timon looked down at his menu. Food, however, did not appear to be on his mind.

“I think there might be someone,” he said, rubbing his chin. “She was here a long time ago back when I first arrived. She seemed to remember the city when she returned. I think her name was some kinda colour. Navy? No, that wasn’t it. Aqua? Turquoise? Azul?” He frowned, certain her name was something to do with blue. “Ah, I can’t remember. Next I see ‘er I’ll ask.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes slowly inching back to the window. “I, uh, don’t know what went on back at the house. You know, with Laharl and…? A lot of other folks disappeared though. You weren’t the only one.” Only when it came to returning.

Krichevskoy followed Timon's gaze out the window and he watched the people walk by. Somehow he had always gotten the feeling that this place would never change, no matter what happened to it. Perhaps that was what it meant for it to be made from a memory.

"Once the matter is resolved I will let you know what occurred. I made a promise not to say anything until then, and I fear I have done more than enough in the past to destroy much of his trust in me without adding a broken promise to the mix." He paused, sighed, and stared back down at the table. "Though it seems the secret is somewhat out now," he added under his breath.

He still couldn't believe that Gwen let that slip. He had hoped that if the news ever came to light it wouldn't be from his mouth, but he hadn't expected it to happen in that way.

"I wonder why so many disappeared."

Timon looked far from impressed by the demons determination to keep Laharl’s secret just that: a secret. It was just as much his right to know as anyone else who lived in that apartment. And though he could not tell what exactly had been going on, it certainly seemed big. He made it very clear that he did not agree with the demons decision. The idea of waiting was absurd, especially when any one of them could vanish without warning. However, it did not seem as though Timon had much of a choice. He did not like being left in the dark, but a part of him could see reason to his friend’s action. As a father, he could only suspect Krichevskoy of protecting his son. He had been no different with Simba.

“I hear it helps when your kid ain’t a cactus.” He joked lamely. “I didn’t hear anything but you should probably watch what you say over the journals. You know, same old stuff.” Timon looked around the restaurant, curious as to where their server was. “You never know who’s listening these days.”

The meerkat shifted uncomfortably at the subject of recent disappearances. He had yet to come to grips with the loss of so many he had cared for, much less talk about them. “I don’t know.” He replied, something he had become too accustom to saying as of late. “It just ain’t sittin’ right, like a bad bug.” Timon rubbed his stomach, oblivious to just how much further the feeling went beyond bugs. “Talk about some nasty JuJu vibes.”

"It is suspicious," Krichevskoy agreed. The amount of people who had disappeared did seem to be greater than usual.

A thought occurred to him, and Krichevskoy turned his gaze down at the table, his brow furrowed. "Has there been any news of the Organization performing any new experiments?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

It seemed a little much for that to be the reason, but he couldn't rule the possibility out, either.

Timon followed the demon’s gaze down at the table. Just the thought of the Organization’s experiments had been enough to make him sick. He was certain his friends had returned home. He had to be. To think they too could fall subject to their ‘studies’ was more than the meerkat could bear. As if to erase the thought, Timon quickly shook his head.

“No!” he abruptly shouted. Having immediately realized the volume of his voice, the meerkat leaned in closer to Krichevskoy. “No.” He repeated, spoken softly the second time. “Other than that mook over the message board, they’ve been keeping quiet. Way too quiet. Believe me, you ain’t the only guy wondering ‘bout them.”

Krichevskoy nearly, jumped, startled by the sudden outburst. "The person over the message board," he repeated, confused. "That anonymous person?" Or, the person who was recently no longer anonymous. He had had his suspicions before, but he had no idea that that individual would be affiliated with the Organization.

He frowned. That certainly made things even more difficult, didn't it? Now he had to wonder just how much of the information they had been given he could trust. Most of it seemed to be correct, but still, especially in these conditions...

“Anonymous? Is that what they’re callin’ themselves now?” Timon could not help but roll his eyes at the mistaken name. “Sheesh, you’d think they could do better than that. You know, use a common name like John, Will, or Anza?” The meerkat crossed his arms over his chest and drew a heavy breath. “All I know is they wouldn’t have to make up these ridiculous names if they weren’t hiding something. How many times has someone we know done that, huh? It’s gotta be one of them.”

If not for all the taunting he had received from the bogus journals, Timon would have likely never suspected them as strongly. He had been certain Axel had been behind one, possibly Marluxia too. However, the most recent he was not sure. They seemed like someone different. Either they were very good at hiding or had just arrived to the city.

The meerkat looked as though he been about to add more when he felt a shadow cast down on him. He looked up to greet their waitress and placed a predictable favourite as his order. She acknowledged Krichevskoy with a smile, though it was uncertain if she recognized him. If she had, she made no sign of it.

Krichevskoy put a hand to his head and decided that it might be best to just let Timon think that "Anonymous" was a name after all. He wasn't sure he could explain the concept well, and the meerkat was honestly close enough.

He looked up when the waitress arrived and offered her a small smile as he gave her his order. He hadn't expected the waitress to remember him, particularly since he didn't exactly remember her either, but it would have been nice if she had.

A thought came to him shortly after the waitress left. "Ah, do you remember if this place has a bakery?" Some sort of dessert sounded nice for after dinner that night.

For someone who supposedly remembered the menu like the back of his paw, Timon looked uncertain of what to tell the demon. “Uhh…” He scratched his head and snuck a glance around the restaurant. “I think that was Porfavore’s.” Timon had never shown interest in the bakery, especially after he had confused the icing spread atop some desserts as seagull droppings. Considering the bizarre diet humans had adapted for themselves, the meerkat did not put it past them to eat such a thing. Though, that would not prevent him from expressing his disgust should Vyers have chosen to purchase a treat for himself.

“What would you possibly want from a bakery anyway?” he asked. “All the good stuff is here.” All the better stuff was waiting for him under a log in the Pride Lands.

"What is wrong with visiting the bakery?" Krichevskoy was quick to retort. "I was going to look for a dessert." He wasn't sure exactly what he would get, though, or if he wanted to go out of his way to Porfavore's to get one. He sighed. "Sometimes I really think you should expand your palette." Double-edged sword such a thing may turn out to be.

“Expand my palette?” Timon repeated, appearing almost offended by the idea. “I’ve expanded plenty! I mean, maybe not here or Porfavore’s but…” But he did have a tendency of ordering the same thing when he thought of it. The meerkat turned away from Vyers as he ran through a list of restaurants he had visited in the city. He had become predictable, many staff having recognized both him and his orders.

Drumming his fingers against his crossed arms, he knit his browns together. “Well, what do you think I should eat?” He asked in exasperated defeat. “I’ve always ate bugs before this place.” Motioning for the demon to lean in closer, Timon lowered his voice after a quick glance around the restaurant. “Meerkat’s sort of have a sensitive stomach.” He admitted in embarrassment. “We can’t even digest grass. I don’t really know what I can eat. Not without finding out the hard way, anyway.” He added with a cringe.

Krichevskoy opened his mouth to reply and quickly closed it again, putting a hand to his chin in thought. It did seem a bit of a ridiculous request, now that he thought about it. It wasn't as though the demon knew what foods Timon would like, much less what foods a meerkat was supposed to avoid.

A brief look of exasperation appeared on Krichevskoy's own face, knowing he too was defeated. He should have thought of a better comeback than that.

"There are some... 'gourmet' dishes in the Netherworld said to include insects," he offered lamely. "I have never tried them myself." Even if it was gourmet, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

The demons lack of confidence was entirely overlooked by the thought of food. “Really?” Timon asked, excitement having clearly returned to his voice. He had never had anything ‘gourmet’ before, especially that to a true royals standards. It never occurred to him that Krichevskoy had chosen to avoid the dishes due to personal taste, but rather he had never found someone to share them with. Secretly, he felt honored.

“I’d like that.” He said, as though he’d just accepted an invitation that had never been sent. “The Netherworld seemed like an alright place, at least inside that castle. I bet we’d eat at one of those big fancy tables and everything, huh?” The meerkat shook his fist in enthusiasm. “Feast like true kings!”

This was clearly going to his head and no help to an already inflated ego.

At first, all Krichevskoy could manage was a quick, strangled "Er--" He hadn't been expecting for Timon to take that as an invitation (or invite himself along--it was difficult to tell with Timon). Still, it might be nice to have a taste of Netherworld cooking again, even if he would have to be a bit choosy on what places they picked.

"W, Well... There are some well rated restaurants near the Sea of Gehenna. But if those will not work, or if the heat is too much, I suppose I could see if the cooks would make anything."

“Now there’s a good idea.” The meerkat said and nodded in approval. “I knew you had at least one in there.” He complimented, gesturing to the demons head. Though whether it could truly be considered a compliment was up for debate. As for the idea of a green sea, it did not seem particularly appealing to Timon. However, he was confident if the food was as unflattering as its origins name they could leave without a fuss. That was what Krichevskoy had seemed to imply at least.

Timon snapped his fingers, a memory having sparked. “Oh! That reminds me…” He jumped down from the table and onto the booth seat. “I – er, got you somethin’.” he called to the demon, reaching for the bag he had brought with him. It was thrown onto the table to be followed by the meerkat scrambling back up after it. He reached into it as he spoke. “Being as generous as I am – and I’m pretty generous – I thought what better way than to show my kindness and overall good nature than to give you… Ah, just a-! To give… Give you…! Oh, for pigs sake!”

It was not long before his grin became a frown, the flustered meerkat digging longer than he had expected through the bag. Only after lifting it did it become abundant where its content had gone. A truly disappointed Timon could be seen through the large hole that had torn through the bottom of the bag.

“I spent all day lookin’ for those!” he groaned and tossed the bag down in frustration. Why was it every time he tried to do something right it turned out wrong? “Maybe I can find more.” Timon thought out loud. He turned to Krichevskoy, prepared to leave the restaurant. “Just wait here!”

Krichevskoy watched curiously as Timon rummaged through his bag, wondering just what the meerkat had in store for him. He couldn't say he was expecting anything particularly grand, given the fact that Timon's ideas of most things good tended to differ greatly from Krichevskoy's own, but the fact that Timon had thought to do such a thing at all was a significant departure from normal.

He held up a hand when Timon made to leave. "There is no need. The thought counts just as much. What was it you were looking for?"

Timon looked down at the empty bag and frowned. “I had some leaves to pay for lunch.” He explained, his back quickly turned to the deemed useless bag. “It must have got caught on a branch or somethin’ while I was up there.” The meerkat scowled further and rubbed his head. “Wish I had known that before I fell outta the thing…”

He shook his head before he pointed at the demon accusingly. “And I don’t wanna hear if I had pockets or wore some of those vacuous frilly clothes like everybody else ‘round here.”

Krichevskoy blinked. "I wasn't going to say that." He didn't see much reason for Timon to wear much of anything unless he wanted to. He was an animal, after all. Such a state was expected of him.

Krichevskoy smiled. "Hm... I suppose you will have to pay for the next lunch we have then. I will pay for it this time." It seemed like a better thing to say than "it's the thought that counts" in any case. "I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities for you to pay your favor."

The meerkat looked baffled after having clearly expected an argument. “You weren’t?” Timon asked, uncertain if he should have been suspicious of the demon. The lack of conflict felt as though they’d fallen out of a funk they’d been caught in. However, it was not one Timon was eager to return to. If Krichevskoy had not been looking to start a debate neither would he.

Timon flashed the demon a smile in return. “Oh! Well, never fear, my ornate pal. The next time is on me.” He agreed proudly. “Just don’t be gettin’ used to this sort of thing. Climbing tree’s all day is the sort of thing that wears a guy out, you know.”

Krichevskoy chuckled. "I imagine it would. Is there not anything closer to the ground you might be able to use?" The grass didn't really look as though it were worth much, but maybe some "fruit" could have fallen from the trees.

Maybe. Sometimes he suspected that it was welded on. The hows and whys of the matter had always eluded him.

He shook his head. “Nothing that ain’t already been walked on countless times. And I can’t see it being worth much after that, can you?”

The exercise was probably good for him but the likelihood that Timon would ever admit to such a thing was minuscule. Hard work was predictably among his least favourite activates. Make that work in general.

“It’s, uh… Good to have you back, Vyers.”

"Ah... That's true..." Whatever it was probably would have been too scuffed to work by then. And the effort to polish them all would be approximately the same as climbing the tree to get them in the first place.

Krichevskoy broke into a grin. "I must admit, I am happy to have returned as well." It was almost like coming home.

Timon smiled in return, the feeling between them mutual. He had been there so long with Krichevskoy and the others, Paixao had almost become a second home. It was outrageous, the idea that some ‘prison’ they were captive in could become such a thing but somehow, with the right people at the right time, it had. Were they anywhere else, would it have turned out the same? Would he have found himself questioning the very feelings he did then?

The mouth watering aroma that approached their table broke his train of thought just long enough for Timon to forget the idea all together. Their waitress was quick when presenting their meals, another table having just sat down a few tables away from the pair. Timon however had paid her little mind, his stomach having taken over priority.

But before digging into his meal, he decided on something he normally wouldn’t. “A toast,” he said, holding a crispy slice of lightly golden bread between the two of them. Far be it for Timon to pass up the opportunity to make a joke – with someone he’d give his last for.

“To friendship.”

Krichevskoy, caught between quirking a small smile and simply rolling his eyes at the pun, decided to just go along with it, pulling the top piece of bread from his sandwich and touching the crust to Timon's piece of bread. He couldn't deny that the whole thing felt incredibly silly, and it was more than a little embarrassing, but he supposed if Timon could attempt to pay for their meal for once, Krichevskoy could make one or two concessions of his own.

But only one or two.

"To friendship," he said with a nod.

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