Pandemonium | Dream SMP

28. Ares, my god of war.

It's about midday when the White House finally begins to stir and wake with the groaning grumbles of Schlatt and his hungover cabinet. They sound like zombies as they mill about the office, massaging headaches as they attempt to recollect their hazy memories of the night before.

I try not to laugh at their bewildered expressions as I sweep the empty wine bottles from Schlatt's desk and into a bin. The glassy clatter has them all flinch in pain as the bottles hit the bottom of the bucket.

"Has anyone seen my shoe?" George questions from a corner of the room, his voice soft and croaky. He holds the lampshade in his hands as he walks about, as if unsure what to do with it. There's no lamp in the room for him to return it to.

"Blurgh-!" Is Quackity's response as he slaps a hand over his mouth, and then scrambles into a full-blown sprint as he seeks out a bathroom.

"Men are such charming creatures." I sigh airily, a vacant look on my face as I finish cleaning the room. "And George, your shoe is over there by the window, on top of the curtain pole."

George stares at me for a full ten seconds before turning slowly to the window and craning his neck back.

Schlatt curses sharply, earning my attention.

"Who the fuck did this?!" He demands, his curls pushed back as he stares at his reflection in a little handheld mirror. The Spanish slang is still scrawled proudly across his temples.

I just smile to myself and leave the room, disposing of the wine bottles, and returning a few minutes later with a damp cloth.

"It should come off with a bit of effort," I say, directing Schlatt away from his desk and to an empty sofa. He grumbles, throwing the mirror to the side and dropping heavily into the cushions.

"Where'd my vice president go?" He questions grouchily, glancing about the office as I take a seat beside him. I raise the cloth to his forehead and start rubbing against the marker, pushing his dark hair back with my other hand.

"Probably throwing up what's left of his stomach," I respond nonchalantly.

Schlatt scoffs and folds his arms, sinking into the sofa. "Fuckin' lightweight. How's he supposed to do his job if he can't even handle a little drink with his president?"

"You could always not drink?" I suggest.

Schlatt hums, clearly not approving of my suggestion. His gaze lands on George, struggling to knock down his shoe. He's just a few inches too short to reach it.

"Oy, George."

He glances back. "Uh, yeah?"

"Have I given you a cabinet position yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Then congratulations. You're now the co-vice president."

"Oh, uh, okay?"

Unperturbed, he goes back to trying to get his shoe.

I giggle, pressing a hand to my mouth. "Sir, I don't think that's a real position."

"It is if I say it is." He hums stubbornly. "And I say it is."

"Ah, well in that case who am I to argue?"

My smile falters as I glance back at George, and something I've been thinking about for a while now comes to mind.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you...in private?"

For the first time since waking up, Schlatt actually looks alert. The haze that had been clouding his eyes clears as he gives me a smirk.

"Oh? Now, this sounds interesting. Hey, co-vice president! Go get cleaned up or somethin'. You look like shit. And while you're at it tell Quackity to pull his fat ass together. I'm not impressed with him."

George, having finally acquired his shoe and tugged it on, gives us an odd look before nodding, "Yeah, sure." And leaves the room still holding his lampshade.

Once the door clicks shut I drop my hands into my lap, clutching the damp rag between my fingers. "Are you sure having George as part of the cabinet is a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Schlatt questions, resting his cheek in a palm of his hand. "I thought you liked Georgey boy?"

"I do! I mean- I think he's a good person. But aren't you worried? About Dream? George is his friend. What if he shares things he shouldn't? It could put you and the country in danger..."

"Heh, you're cute. You think I haven't thought about that?" He chuckles, crossing a leg over the other. "Yes, George is a liability to us. But don't you see? He's also a liability to Dream."

I cock my head to the side. "How so?"

"Well, it's just as you said. George is a friend of Dream's. A very good friend. And nobody wants to see their good friend get hurt." He flashes a nasty grin. "You catch my drift now, sweet cheeks?"

"You're...using George as leverage to keep Dream in check?"

"Bingo. If Dream sets even one foot out of line I could, say, have George take a nasty tumble? Or maybe take a forced vacation in a prison cell somewhere? Yes, George could share our state secrets, but at what cost?"

I hesitate. "And what if George does get hurt? And Dream retaliates?"

Schlatt smiles, and I see his eyes trace the outline of my lips, "that's why I've got you, my little warrior." He reaches up and runs a finger along my jaw, "Ares, my god of war."

I lean into his touch, a soft smile crossing my lips, "that name was the first thing you ever gifted me."

"And you've lived up to it wonderfully." He hums.

Our conversation ends there as Quackity and George arrive shortly after, looking much fresher and alive than they had an hour ago. Though Quackity still looks a little green around the gills.

With Schlatt back on track as president and discussing his ideas for future decrees and taxes, I excuse myself and run my own little errand. To return to the community house and pick up a few items I'd left behind - namely clothes. Now that Schlatt is officially the president, it means we can move fully into the white house, which means I can start collecting personal items again. Before now I only ever travelled light, carrying only the bare essentials to keep Schlatt and I alive. We're what some would call wanderers, not unlike the wandering traders that are known to travel between settlements to sell their goods. But being a wanderer also means having no specific home. Which is why the thought of finally having a physical place to belong had excited me so much. A place for me and Schlatt to live normally, even if just for the duration of his term.

A loud snort has my head jerk up in surprise.

I'd taken the scenic route back to the Community House, past the fields that border the wooden docks. But I'd strayed a little from the path, in the direction of Niki's bakery. Which is where I now see a tall, chestnut-coloured horse, saddled and ready to ride, tethered to a fence post. And right next to it stands Niki, pushed up onto her tip-toes as she shoves something sweet-smelling into a saddlebag.

"Niki?" I question, slowing to a stop as I observe her and her horse.

The shorter woman jumps, and turns, giving me the expression of one who's just been caught doing something they shouldn't.

"A-Ares. Hello!"