Serenity

Benton’s regular returns for a fix

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Leander
Posts: 122
Joined: Sat Jul 07, 2018 1:21 pm
Topics: 16
Race: Passive
Location: Old Rose Harbour
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Dizzy
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Wed Nov 07, 2018 7:00 pm


2nd Dentis, 2718

If someone were to tell Leander ten years ago, or even two years ago, that he would be seeking release in the form of mind-altering substances, he would have laughed them off with carefully chosen, harsh words of sharp dismissal. Drugs dulled the mind, something a person like him would never actively seek... he couldn’t afford it, not when a large part of him still believed he was on the way to greatness. But, as the arcs passed, and he festered in his resentment for the life he lost, when his resentment for his own disgusting failures grew, the passive’s turmoil battled against his ingrained beliefs.

The days were monotonous at best. Yes, he was still lucky enough to be continually exposed to more of an education than perhaps any other passive in Anaxas, but it wasn’t enough. He doubted it would ever be enough, not when he knew what his pay had been, only to have it ripped away from him before he ever had a chance to make his mark on the world.

He would have been great. He would have been someone. With everything and anything at his disposal, the boy would have thrived in his journey towards glory. Instead, he had spend eight years in s book shop, learning to record numbers in a book, learning to keep track of others’ expenses, learning to find loopholes and ‘fix’ the facts for a King he barely thought was worthy of the title.

The only excitement he found was in counterfeiting. That, in and of itself, had been the gateway to his reckless behaviours. The thrill of the risk caused him to seek out more, and he had turned to gambling, prostitution (buying services, not selling himself, of course), alcohol and, finally, drugs. Initially, it had been all about the continued risk, the illicit aspect was too tempting to resist when he first approached a dealer. His first experience was far more than he could have expected. The high was what he had been seeking, and it was every bit what he had read about - for, up until now, all of his world experiences had come from books. The aftermath of the high, however, when the drugs still coursed through his system, he had not been prepared for.

The opiate had caused Leander’s mind to slow down. Rather than the thoughts flying through his mind before he could get a grasp on them, he could see them more clearly. More importantly, he didn’t care enough to worry about these thoughts anyway. It was bliss, to relax and not feel like he was being torn in two. The discovery that he could rid himself of the white-hot fire constantly alight in his stomach was too much for him not to return to the dealer. Eon became a familiar face, discreet and trusted, as far as Leo would trust a criminal, of course. Again and again, at least once a season, he returned to the older man to seek out the release. Today was one such day.
Last edited by Leander on Sun Feb 03, 2019 4:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Benton Borteillo
Posts: 99
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:15 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Human
Occupation: Mr. Drug Dealer Drug Man- retiring.
: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Quix
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Contact:

Mon Nov 12, 2018 8:37 am

the second day of Dentis, twenty-seven-eighteen
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Clutched in his fist was the thin kerchief, stained and worn by years of varied uses. It was nothing remarkable- a once black piece of fabric greyed as the indigo ink inside of it washed away with every use. Olin had used it to dab the crimson blood off of Benton’s face with a gentle hand after that same hand had broken Benton’s nose. He had wiped sand off of pale feet with it as he sat on the beach so many summers before, his shoulder pressed against Aziza’s in the comforting warmth of companionship and budding love. He had hung it on his door to signal to Cai, a boy he’d, as much as he could afford, raised to warn him to stay away, the Seventen was near, and now, tonight Benton utilized the kerchief again, each thread stained with a story without even his realization.

Benton sneezed into it and rubbed at his watering eyes as he leaned over the table isolated at the edge of the bar. O, how Benton despised these curséd months of autumn! He hated, loathed the indecisive character of Mother Nature in this time of her season where she both sweated off and shivered away her leaves as her tantrums left her with soaring temperatures and sinking ones and left Benton perpetually in the wrong state of dress. He hated the dampness that lingered and encouraged the snivelling moss and sickening pollen to wander through the air in search of prey which today were the allergy-dulled senses of Benton’s stuffy head. He relished winter, where the plants died and the cold stayed cold, yet business was as business is- business, business, business.

Benton leaned over the table and a short glass of scotch heavily, the miserable wear and tear that came with feeling even slightly under the weather weighing his head and body down. Here, however, Benton spotted his quarry. He stood as the man approached, but the human and the passive familiar with the table at which they had always met. The man, Leander, had been a familiar customer for some time now, and Benton had no judgements about his spending and consuming habits. He was a well-dressed man, which Benton, in his own attention to fashion, could appreciate, especially in the down-trod streets of Old Rose. He had dark hair and, most strikingly, dark eyes inset in a canvas with a slight yellow tint that, to a trained eye, may signal galdor, but seemed more like sunlight under the surface of his skin than that monstrous race. Benton straightened up, stood, and did his best not to look like the absolute health hell he was in.

“Leo,” he acknowledged as, if Leo would accept his hand, they shook. He slid back into the seat, his hand moving to the front of his jacket to check the security of the package- safe.

“I’ve got everything in order for tonight, but, hm, you’re not in a rush, are you? How are you? It’s good to see you in pleasant health,” Benton said, more so in jealousy than well-wishing. “Would you have a drink? On my tab, of course.” It was the courtesy, the service, that he strived for with his customers. He was not one to hide in alleyways, for, if you made yourself look so suspicious, you were going to be suspected. No, he strived for this air, a meeting between old friends, business partners. Every eye in the bar that slowly filled with rush hour guests waited for a commotion, and Benton wasn’t going to give them a show.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Leander
Posts: 122
Joined: Sat Jul 07, 2018 1:21 pm
Topics: 16
Race: Passive
Location: Old Rose Harbour
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Dizzy
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Thu Nov 15, 2018 7:13 pm



The approach of the aged - at least to him - drugs dealer was like warmth in the dead of winter. Leander wasn’t shaking from withdrawal symptoms; he was addicted, yes, but didn’t use enough and was careful in his intake. But he now needed it, and definitely looked forward to each day he was able to enjoy the sensations provided only by hard drugs. Eon has become strongly associated with this positive sensation, thus Leo reacted positively to the sight of the older man. The reaction was visible on the expression of the forger, whose eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t done since living in Vienda with his parents. The smile was more restrained, but the eyes, so expressive and poorly controlled in the best of situations, couldn’t lie.

The young counterfeiter didn’t notice his enabler’s illness, or, if he did, it didn’t quite register in his mind. Instead, all he saw was a saviour in a flock of sheep, a ray of light in a sea of darkness, a means to an end.

Eon,” The passive greeted in reply as he jumped out of his seat to accept the proffered hand with a firm shake before returning to his seat. Though he despised strangers’ use of such a familiar version of his name, Eon was long past stranger. “No, I’m not in any rush.” And he wasn’t. With no work sitting on his desk, he had nothing to rush back to. With no family, lover, or even friends to speak of, he had no one waiting for him at home. The only thing that had him wanting to leave with his purchase as soon as possible was the purchase itself: he wanted the drugs. But he wasn’t an addict and he could wait.

He nodded. “Yes. I am well.” As well as could be in the monotonous drudgery of his life. “Yes. I am well. And yourself? Business as strong as ever, I hope?” If business was going well, it meant Leander had a higher chance of getting the decent stuff. He was a man of few words but, here with Eon, he felt as if he was sitting with someone he actually liked, and who even liked him (or was paid to like him, which was almost the same thing). “Ah, well if you’re buying then I certainly could not say no! The best tasting beer is... well it’s the one that comes from someone else’s flagon, but a free beer is certainly the next best!

It was probably an odd dichotomy: such careful enunciation coming from a boy who also spoke with a contextually bizarre over excitement... especially when he slapped both of his hand down on the bar, a universal beat signalling giddy impatience. “Or are we having something else? Something stronger, perhaps?
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Benton Borteillo
Posts: 99
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:15 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Human
Occupation: Mr. Drug Dealer Drug Man- retiring.
: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Quix
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Wed Jan 02, 2019 12:19 pm

the second day of Dentis, twenty-seven-eighteen
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Secured below the fabric of Eon’s cloak was a bulky package, a brown envelope that filled the length of his hand and was stamped with the ink of his name, three simple letters of E, O, and N in the deep purple ink of the indigo leaf. The contents of the package were double wrapped for security and disguise, the outer layer the browned paper and the inner layer a small paper box. The opening of the box would reveal a brown-glass bottle hand-sealed with a hot wax stopper and wrapped for protection in cheap cloth. Laudanum. Benton’s own hand had written the word laudanum on the paper label. There was a liquid inside, a mix of opium and alcohol, and, though the bottle could be consumed in moments, Leander and Eon both knew the danger of that, both knew the drug, a drug that eased most of the painful sensations of the body and fueled the creativity and emotions of the brain should be taken in only a few drops at a time. Eon was leaving for the city soon to sell the drug as what it was- a pain reliever. There was no lie there, (he swore as surely as the clock tower chimes) but there was business, and business had been slow as Silas Hawke began to take more notice of Eon’s business.

Business is as business has been- busy,” Eon dismissed with a wave of his right hand, the other sliding absentmindedly around the lip of his stout glass. Business had been slow, but Leander didn’t need to know this. Customers got scared when business slowed down, and Eon did not need that fear in his relations with customers. So he smiled. “ And I’m well, thank you,” he lied again, not wanting to bother Leander with his meaningless qualms. He picked up his drink to drown the dryness in his throat.

It’s just a scotch for me tonight- sobriety is required by my schedule today, unfortunately,” he mentioned as he sat his glass back into the ring of condensation it inhabited on the wooden surface, then waved over the barkeep. “You, however, have a full menu for free at your hands right now.” The barkeep came over, and Eon made sure to get the drink to his tab. He waited for the man to leave, then continued his small talk.

I think you may need to know, I’ll be gone from Old Rose to Vienda in Achtus and Ophus for some new business endeavors. Hopefully I can get something done before the Seventen come and find me- or Hawke for that matter,” he sighed. “Of course, I only say this for your discretion- you’ll be in need of a new supply sometime in winter, and I’d like to provide it. Details, however. My boy is still going to deliver some pre-paid orders over the months, or we can get you stocked up now. I don’t want to leave a customer dry.
In hell I'll be in good company.
User avatar
Leander
Posts: 122
Joined: Sat Jul 07, 2018 1:21 pm
Topics: 16
Race: Passive
Location: Old Rose Harbour
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Dizzy
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Fri Feb 01, 2019 3:55 pm



I’m pleased to hear it,” he replied with tight smile, “It has been… challenging to secure your patronage, but I am pleased to hear it was with good reason,” he replied, in a tone that implied he was anything but pleased. The man didn’t quite seem at ease, Leander considered as he watched the other man.He took a sip of his own drink, dismissing the thought: the two were not friends, this was entirely a business arrangement. Leander was little more than a regular client to Eon, and Eon was only a discrete means to an end for Leander.

Every time Leo bought from Eon, they did this dance: small talk for a short while over a pint or a meal, and then they would shake hands and part ways until Leo contacted him again. It was partly a show for anyone who might be watching them a little too closely: Leo, at least, didn’t want the negative attention of being associated with drugs. Eon probably thought it was good for business too, maybe he thought his clients wanted to be schmoozed. In reality, Leander just wanted to take the drugs and… take the drugs.

Oh, well thank you,” the passive pretended to be surprised at the offer of anything on the menu - part of the dance they completed each time they met. This time, however, he wanted the hit to hit him quickly, and taking the drug on an empty stomach would speed up its progress. He ordered a second whisky to match the order of the drug dealer. His mind was focused on the promising package he knew was safely held on Eon’s person, the drink, whatever it was, paled in comparison.

When it arrived, Leo swilled, sniffed, and took his first sip, drinking like the expert he often pretended to be. “Oh?” He took another sip, allowing the taste of the whisky to excuse the silence as he considered what to say next. “That’s quite some time to be gone, must be some business venture.” He didn’t want the details (the cleaner his hands the better) but knowledge that someone he had relied upon for well over a year now was going to be leaving was… unsettling. “Your boy?” He didn’t quite know how he felt about a stranger being privy to his addiction.

But it was not for him to demand anything. Customer or not, he was a scrap, and causing a scene never ended well for filth like him. “Well if it cannot be helped. It would be… unusual to pay you in advance for such a long time. It’s a rather large investment for me, you understand, and my pocket might not be able to manage the risk, were something to happen to your boy or your supply in your absence.” It was a blow to his pride to admit such a thing to Eon, but the thought of not having the opportunity to escape reality was even harder to stomach. “Perhaps there’s an arrangement we can come to.
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