[Closed] Why Is It Always The Matches First?

Old Rose Harbor is Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld.
User avatar
Elias Mercucianno
Posts: 32
Joined: Wed Jan 30, 2019 6:21 am
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Raksha
Contact:

Fri Apr 19, 2019 10:20 am

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
Image
What a day to be alive.

Elias leaned against one cocked arm on the cool wood of the bartop, his other hand wrapped firmly around a mug of something warm and disgusting. He wasn’t quite resting his head in his arm, but he was close, gold rimmed green eyes staring into nothingness as he sat there dressed in the same salmon shirt and beige pants he’d been wearing since Ophus. His jacket was gone, sold for a few extra coin to buy him a room at the Black Dove for the season. He’d arrived in Old Rose Harbor that morning, travelling by boat and by horse drawn fucking wagon because it was cheaper than a gods-be-damned airship ticket. He had forked out a whole tally for a shower and a shave, patchy though it was. The keep had shown him where he could have his clothing laundered and thank Hurte whilst he lay naked in bed and slept the day away, they washed them and didn’t bloody well steal them.

Dressing in the now fresh-ish garments, the Bastian made his way to the tavern itself, ignoring the way patrons gave him lingering side eyes and bought himself the largest mug of whatever was cheap.

Fucking ruined.

Everything he had was on him, or in the room upstairs. He had maybe five shills and a handful of hats, which he discovered weren’t the customary coinage in the Rose. The mistress of the keep took his coin, but she gave him change he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. The Kings currency. Drawing his cigarettes from his shirt pocket, sitting up slightly, Elias pulled one out with his lips and began to lift his fingers to light the spliff. The mona grated sharply, his teeth ringing and ears thobbing. Anyone who might be a wick or a galdori in the vicinity would feel the runoff of his very rebuked spell request, and the sidelong glances turned into long glares of disapproval.

“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered to no one in particular, patting down his pocket for his matches. Frowning, he straightened to pat his pants pockets, before sighing and rubbing a hand through his hair.

Why would he have any matches left? That would be some sort of good luck. He was fresh out of that. Old Rose had been the logical place to go, given he had nothing in Vienda and now nothing in Bastia. At least the accommodation in the Rose was cheap, and maybe he could get himself shanked by a pirate if he pissed one off enough.

Frankly, it was what he deserved. Eli realized this now. After a truthfully wonderful and emboldening evening with Xavier, the galdor had really believed he might have seen the light. He’d felt happy, sort of, for a brief moment in time. But Hurte saw fit to punish him, had used that brief respite just to show the man exactly what would come of him. He had been the cause of his families death, and he would suffer endlessly until such time that the cold breath of the afterlife whispered to him. But knowing the Circle Gods, he would live a long and miserable life, tormented for his sins till he was a grey old spinster. He should never have peaked a glance at the bright light beyond his darkness, it only caused more pain.

Taking the cigarette from his lips, Elias downed the large mug of revolting in one long continuous gulp, placing the empty vessel down with a shudder and wiggling his fingers for another one. Sobriety was too long with him, and the nightmares of his past were screaming from their barely holding cages, ready to spring forth and overwhelm him with visions of blackened bodies and crying mothers and brave fathers and—

“I said another.” The Bastian drawled, waving a coin in the keeps face for attention, still holding the cigarette between two long fingers. The woman moved without urgency, taking his coin and pouring the warm alcoholic blend slowly, glaring at the galdor as he stared at her in return. Once it was full, Eli lifted the mug and drained half, forcing down the urge to gag at the taste.

At least it was alcoholic. In a few minutes he would feel much better.

word count: 757
User avatar
Kit
Posts: 34
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2019 1:03 pm
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Sat Apr 20, 2019 1:59 pm

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
Image
The complex, jaunty melody picked out by long fingers under the simple words ran faster and faster, tankards thumping on wood as Kit's clear baritone rang out in one final phrase, his last song of the night.

“...but can we try once more...before you go?”

The last note held for a good two bars over the sound of his guitar before Kit rang out a last chord with a flourish, the golly grinning delightedly as he stood, bending at the waist to both bow and gather up the satchel at his feet in one elegant movement as mugs pounded and cheers rang out in applause.

“One more, darlin’?” The woman at the closest table asked hopefully, leaning forward in a way that suggested she was after more than just one song...

Technically speaking, he could have carried on as the last performer of the night, but the golly shuddered inwardly at the thought of even another quarter hour...this audience expected the songs to get bawdier as the night went on, and if he had to aggressively flirt with an entire room for much longer he thought he might sprain something. Kit wasn't blind to the fact that his face and manner had a lot to do with how much he earned, but right now all he wanted to do was spend his tips and drown the little voice at the back of his skull that had been niggling at him for the past three days.

“Alas, I must leave you, tis all I'm booked for. I'll be back next three, can't stay away forever!”

Making his bows and expressing his thanks for the few final coins tossed into his open satchel, the musician slid his guitar to rest against his back on its worn leather strap, before stepping up to the bar.

He paid the slumped form beside him no mind until the hand snapped out, and a demand was uttered in a cultured Bastian drawl.

...hm, you're new in town…

He eyed the man sidelong as he spoke to the barkeep.
“Top me up would you, darling, the spiced stuff if you have it?”
The golly reached into the pocket of his jacket, fishing out the silver hip flask which he handed over, shaking it beforehand to make sure no dregs remained.“And I'll have a glass before I go.”
He fished in his satchel to pull out a handful of coin, sliding two dull rounds across the bar. “I'll pick up my pay in the morning as usual?”

One elegant hand pushed dark red locks out of his face, disheveled by the vigour of his performance, and the other reached into his jacket again, plucking out a matchbook between two long fingers, which he tilted in the other golly's direction, field creeping tentatively out as he did so.

“You look like you could use these…”

Soft, blue gaze still fixed before him on the barkeep pouring fragrant dark spirits, his own clipped tones definitively Anaxi, but just as cultured as the frustrated man beside him.

word count: 540
User avatar
Elias Mercucianno
Posts: 32
Joined: Wed Jan 30, 2019 6:21 am
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Raksha
Contact:

Sat Apr 27, 2019 11:16 pm

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
Image
The music had been good, but frankly Eli hadn’t really paid enough attention to appreciate it, so when it finished and the patrons clapped for the musician he hadn’t noticed. That in itself, was a tragedy. He had noticed when he walked in the red jacket, and the auburn hair in gentle waves, and the cheeky smile. The guitarist was pretty, and realistically on any other day of any other season the Bastian wouldn’t have made it to the bar first. The old Elias would be right there at the front, making his pompous self known and giving bedroom eyes to anything that caught his fancy with cigarette in lips and drinks in hand.

But then again, the old Elias wouldn’t be caught dead in Old Rose again.

As a warm body slipped against the bar beside him, the Bastian couldn’t help but feel the brush of a stronger field than those around them. A galdori field. Another lost soul from the civilized cities perhaps? Did it matter? Damn those bloody matches! The brunette picked up his drink and downed the rest of it without care.

“You look like you could use these…”

“Hrm!” He grunted sharply, lowering the drink in surprise and looking at the hand that stood out before him holding a godsent matchbook between two long fingers. Eli turned his head more, looking up the arm into an attractive face and rich blue eyes that were not yet looking at himself, lowering the mug with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Bloody handsome musicians. Was this his lot in life? Falling over pretty musical beings at his lowest?

“Do I? I was hoping that my utter lack of self-sustainability in the fire-lighting department wasn’t entirely on display. Clearly that was not the case. Thank you.” The dark haired galdor said with a nod, taking the matches from the Anaxi and breaking one free. Placing the spliff between his lips, Elias lit the end with a sharp flick of the wrist and a few puffs, before handing the matchbook back.

“Did you want one?” He asked with a cocked brow, pointing at the smouldering stick between his lips, before taking a deep inhale and letting the smoke slowly trickle from his mouth. Green and gold eyes stared at the bar before them, unseeing, enjoying the unhealthy burst of nicotine in his system.

“Gods I needed that.” Elias sighed, before glancing back at the man and presenting a hand to shake.

“Elias Mercucianno.” He said with a nod, waiving his mug for another drink and fishing out another couple of the Kings coins.

“What in Vita brings such a delightfully handsome Anaxi golly into the belly of the beast then? Surely it’s not the…uh…selectively odorous crowds or the pleasant scenery? Are you too wallowing in shame and self-pity, hoping that the Rose will swallow you whole, or is there some secret Anaxi society here full of rich folks looking to live a little more ‘ruggedly’?” The Bastian chuckled at his own joke, putting the silvery coins on the bartop and taking another drag of his cigarette.

word count: 557
User avatar
Kit
Posts: 34
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2019 1:03 pm
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Tue Apr 30, 2019 10:12 am

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
Image
The man accepted the matches with self-deprecating thanks, and Kit turned to face his neighbour properly, chuckling with his tongue between his teeth.

...well...that’s a face…

The musician hadn’t been expecting it, and was caught ever-so-slightly off-guard by the man’s appearance. The outward reaction was limited to a crooked eyebrow as his gaze flicked down and then up again, taking in the well-tailored clothes and louche demeanour, the height that couldn’t be more than an inch or two off his own.

“Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air. It’s been a positive age since I heard words of more than three syllables. Thank you, darling,” he added to the barkeep, with an effortlessly charming smile, as she set his flask and glass down.

“Ne problem, pet,” she demurred, before moving off down the bar to yell at a belligerent customer-but not before shooting a venomous glance at the Bastian beside him.

The golly took a sip of the dark liquid, closing his eyes as the rich notes flooded over his tongue, and sighed as the warmth spilled down his throat.

“Mm, what? Oh, no, thank you. I don’t smoke tobacco. Plenty of other vices, but for some reason that one’s never taken hold.”

He might not indulge himself, but he couldn’t deny it was attractive in others, for some reason he couldn’t fathom. Maybe he’d stay for more than one drink...

...if the scenery continues to be this delightful…

An elegant hand was proffered, and Kit grasped it firmly with his own long fingers, and shook once before releasing his grip, the scratched gold of his signet ring glinting dully in the dim light of the bar.

“Kit Edevane. Pleasure.”
The musician laughed in turn when Elias queried his presence in the Harbour, eyes bright as he took another swallow, noting the words ‘delightfully handsome’ and filing them away for future reference.

“And here I was thinking that the scenery was markedly improved this evening.” He tried not to wink, he really did, but the mannerism was so ingrained that he’d done it before he even realised he was going to.”Old Rose swallowed me years ago, she’s just very sweet about letting me out to play. And would I be singing for tips in this delightful place if I were rich? Just look at me…”

The musician gestured vaguely at his own self, tossing back the remainder of his rum with a soft, contented groan.

Turning in his seat as Elias laid his money on he bar, Kit dropped a swift hand over coin and fingers, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Do you really want to be drinking that swill?” he asked, voice low. “You clearly have taste, surely it extends to what you put in your body, not just what you put on it…”


word count: 513
User avatar
Elias Mercucianno
Posts: 32
Joined: Wed Jan 30, 2019 6:21 am
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Raksha
Contact:

Fri May 10, 2019 7:29 pm

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
Image
As Kit released his hand, Elias leaned his elbow on the bar, unable to help the slow smile that crept across his lips. The sobriety that wanted so desperately to take hold wafted away as fast-drunk ale did it’s work, and taking another inhale of the cigarette the galdor flourished his hand in some sort of symbolic representation of a bow.

“I do what I can, Kit.” He said in reply to the compliment, knowing all to well what the red-jacketed man meant. Old Rose was certainly not the place to seek out intelligent or even understandable conversation. The Bastian had grown up however, on rough pirate accents and traders languages. He could pick out words and make sense of things, even if he would prefer not to. The Mugrobi dock hands muttered things in their own tongue when he had walked along the pier, and the dark haired creature felt his skin crawl, too many traumatic memories hanging on those clipped tones. The peoples themselves were kind to him, but they had been first there. They had been the ones in the darkness when he was this close to joining his family in their untimely end.

Those bastards had been the ones who had saved him.

Chuckling to himself, Eli watched the smoke curl away from his face, turning slightly to hold a proper conversation with the attractive newcomer.

“I’ve got plenty of other vices, should you need to find out which one is right for you.” He rumbled, flickers of the man he could be breaking through the misery of what he was becoming. What he had become.

The musician winked, and the Bastian smirked. Flirtatious and delicious. Maybe he didn’t look as bad as he felt. Raising a dark brow, Elias chuckled again.

“Oh, I am looking at you…” He muttered, fingertips of his free hand brushing the edge of his fresh mug of crap ale, eyes wandering over both the delightful view and the admirably interesting jacket. It would look splendid on himself, though maybe a bit longer and a bit more tan then red. Maybe with a high collar.

Returning from his distracted musing, the unshaven man glanced up again to meet the bright blue of the older golly’s gaze as a warm hand settled on his coin and his fingers, the smirk falling slowly and gold-rimmed iris’ turning back to the counter top and the unappealing alcohol.

“Want is a strong word, I prefer the term ‘need’. I need to drink this swill, because its the only clocking thing I can afford at present that will keep away sobriety, if I want to continue to have a roof over me.” Puffing on the cigarette, Elias shrugged, picking up the drink and taking a sip with a shudder before placing it back down and sucking on his teeth.

“If I had a choice, I would be drinking something far stronger and far prettier, with a hookah and a whore. More so, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing any of this in Old Rose. But well. Here I am…without my choices.” He raised the mug in some strange mock toast, downing a large long gulp before dropping it down on the bar with a cough and a grimace.

“At least I still have my sense of style it seems. No one can burn that down.” The comment would make no sense to Kit, but then Eli wasn’t sure he made sense anymore. His whole being was just a husk waiting for the end that the Circle so cruelly kept holding off. Taking a deep breath, the Bastian forced a smile and looked back at the musician.

“Why? Are you interested in putting things in my body, Mister Edevane?” He said crudely, without care for decorum or personal space, squinting against the smoke of his spliff as he took another slow inhale, looking at the other man through the haze.

word count: 696
User avatar
Kit
Posts: 34
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2019 1:03 pm
Topics: 1
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Foxing
Contact:

Wed May 15, 2019 5:17 am

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
Image
At the elegant man's unexpectedly lewd retort, Kit laughed in delighted surprise.

...oh, yes…why is it always the sharp-tongued brunettes...

The haze of smoke hung between them like a dancer's veil, but the nonchalant way the Bastian spoke of his troubles couldn't quite hide the pain in those lovely eyes, and the musician found himself wanting to wash it away, however briefly.

Composing himself once more to match the other's serious tone, the Anaxi replied in kind, if not quite so brazen.

“Well now…” and he met the other man's gaze with a raised eyebrow “...can I start with a better class of alcohol? Are you a sweet or a sharp man? Or perhaps something a little more...full-bodied?” Mischief quirked at the corner of his lip as he regarded the Bastian thoughtfully.

“I find myself in dire need of a night of distraction, and...well, my plans didn’t originally involve company, but I can’t deny that it would be sorely welcomed… especially when said company is so…”

...pretty…loquacious...

“...clearly experienced. And maybe I'm feeling generous, who knows…"

The older golly swirled his rum for a moment, gazing into the liquor with a small smile before tossing back the remainder and setting the empty glass in the bar with a decisive clink.

"I know a delightful spot a few streets away… now I can't promise a whore, but a hookah and a prettier class of drink are definitely on the cards. "

Elbow on the bar, cheek resting on elegant knuckles, the musician regarded Elias with a wide grin and a silent chuckle. The musician hadn't really eaten today, he tended to forget when he was feeling like this, and the swiftly-downed spirits were already buzzing through him, full of warmth and sweet opportunity.

For a brief moment another dark-haired pretty thing crossed his mind.

...well, I did say I'd be out late…she knows not to wait up…

"So...Elias...What do you say? Will you come chase away the demons with pleasure rather than drowning them in piss-poor ale?"

word count: 380
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic

Return to “Old Rose Harbor”

  • Information
  • Who is online

    Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest