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Who: Battler Ushiromiya & Beato
Where: The beach
When: Some time after Beato's arrival
Rating: PG/PG-13 for references to murder
Summary: Two opponents find themselves at a tea party once again.
The Story:

Beato couldn't ask for a more appropriate afternoon. The sky was clear, the sound of the ocean comforting, and the "kya-kya" of the seagulls more than welcome. She had hoped that the beach would be a suitable neutral ground for the two of them. A reminder that not everything had once been completely unpleasant. A place that would invoke fond memories of playing with one's relatives, of having a lovely chat over tea with a friend.

Wonderland had been kind enough to oblige Beato with two chairs and a table, complete with a cloth umbrella shading it from the sun. The tea and cookies were acceptable, although the Golden Witch knew that they didn't even come close to the brew and sweets that Ronove prepared. She sighed. I have to take what I can get in this place, it seems. Teacher would say I've been spoiled too much. That was true, although she didn't care to admit it aloud. Kinzo had given her everything she possibly could want when he had imprisoned her; everything except freedom.

She pushed those thoughts aside and sipped her tea in a dignified manner, waiting patiently for Battler to arrive. Whether or not he would come remained to be seen, but she was confident that he would be drawn to her regardless. It was in his blood, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Battler had thought about not showing up. The month of rest before Beato had shown up had been a nice change, and going back to the usual tea parties and murder games felt like a chore. But even the most unpleasant chores need to get done eventually, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do. If there was one thing to be said about the witch, it was that her company was not boring. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, a part of him had missed it.

He strolled down the beach, hands in pockets, taking great care to appear as nonchalant and casual as possible. He might have just been on a walk and decided to join the little tea party on a whim. No one could prove otherwise.

Her eyes brightened at the sight of Battler. Beato couldn't help it - he was her main source of entertainment after years of boredom. As much as she enjoyed tormenting him, a part of her had grown fond of him. She didn't like admitting it much (especially to herself), but there was a friendly tone in her voice different from her usual obnoxious manner when she greeted him.

"Battler! So kind of you to join me. Please, sit." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Care for some black tea? Or would you prefer a different blend?"

With a snap of her fingers, one of the goats appeared, docilely lowering its head in respect, gently placing different porcelain containers on the table for Battler to choose from if he so desired. It stepped back, awaiting orders, barely moving an inch. Furniture needed to behave like furniture after all. Beato didn't want to say anything, but it was a bit disconcerting to know that this was the only furniture she could manage to summon at the moment. She was grateful that the Goat was more laid back than his brothers. The Witch made a mental note to reward him for his good behavior later.

Battler sat down, eyeing the goat warily. The last time he'd seen those things, they'd eaten him alive.

"Black tea's fine."

He picked up a cup and took a careful sip. For all that he'd planned on appearing confident and casual, he couldn't really hide his uncertainty.

"So, what happens now? Are we going to start a new game, or did you just invite me here for a chat?"

Beato idly drummed her fingers on the table, mulling things in her head for a moment before speaking. "It seems that we are both in the same predicament. We are both trapped here. We are both subjected to this Wonderland's whims. I do not like admitting this, but..." Her voice trailed off and she sighed, giving a resigned shrug.

"I can't make a new game board here. Believe me, I've tried, but it seems that something is blocking my magic, or should I say, ability to create a new session."

She leaned back in her seat, taking a sip of her tea, watching him carefully. "We both know what this means, correct? Bernkastel and Lambdadelta are still in my territory. Alone. With my pieces, your family. With no one to hold them in check.

"What I propose is this: a truce, for the duration of our stay here in Wonderland. By truce, I mean that I will not try to murder you or those that you find dear in this place. I will do what I can to assist you should you need it. Don't think that this means I'm going to stop trying to convince you that magic is real. That part of our game still stands."

She set her cup down, trying to keep her heart from racing. This was a very, very big gamble. Kinzo would have jumped up and down in glee if he knew about it.

Battler remained quiet for a long moment, sipping his tea and mulling over Beato's proposal. In a lot of ways, it seemed too good to be true; as much as he didn't want to admit it, the witch would probably be a great help in getting out of this place. Not having to worry about her going on a killing spree was a nice bonus.

Eventually, he set his cup down, crossed his arms and gave Beato an even stare. This was probably a terrible idea. Nothing good could come from going along with anything she said. But what other choice did he have?

"If I'm going to agree, I'll need to know that you'll stick to those conditions. Will you say it in red?"

A smirk rose to the witch's lips. Ah, she never could get bored with Battler around! "I, Beato, Beatrice the Golden, the Endless Witch, will refrain from bringing harm to Battler Ushiromiya or his friends, and will assist him in every way possible. However, I will continue to try to convince him that magic exists."

She let the words settle in the air - they didn't seem to have the same impact that they had back in their kakera, but Beato did hope that it would set his mind at ease. "Could you promise the same? In blue?"

This was their form of contract. Paper and ink didn't cut it when it came to them. Their words were their weapons, their creed. It was a mutual understanding that only two - friendly? - opponents could comprehend and appreciate.