[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.
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Elias Mercucianno
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Fri Apr 19, 2019 10:20 am

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
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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
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Kit
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Sat Apr 20, 2019 1:59 pm

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
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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
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Elias Mercucianno
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Sat Apr 27, 2019 11:16 pm

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
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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
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Kit
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Tue Apr 30, 2019 10:12 am

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
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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
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Elias Mercucianno
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Fri May 10, 2019 7:29 pm

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
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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
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Kit
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Wed May 15, 2019 5:17 am

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
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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
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Elias Mercucianno
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Wed May 22, 2019 7:43 am

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
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Elias laughed then, a proper throaty chuckle that rumbled in his chest and bubbled forth between the thick plume of sweet tobacco smoke.

“Well, I’m not so sure we’re talking about drinks now Mister Edevane. It depends on what’s on offer. Sweet is fun, but full-bodied is much more…delicious.” His voice dropped into a deep, sultry baritone at the last word, before the Bastian chuckled again and took another puff on the spliff. Lifting his hands from the bar, cigarette held between smirking lips, Elias made an attempt to smooth his clothing and ran his fingers through dark curls in some semblance of neatness.

“I’ll have you know, I make the most glorious company most evenings. Yes, I have had some setbacks, but it would be rude to leave such a kindred spirit in their hour of need.” Taking the cigarette from his lips, the galdor finished it off in a few more breaths, before butting it out in his empty mug and standing with all the elegance his breeding would allow.

“Whores and hookahs can be forgone for such a kind gesture.” Eli said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, briefly seeing another in Kit’s place. A taller being, with skin like alabaster and hair like fresh snow. Another being full of kind gestures even when they were supposed to be robbing him. Blinking away the visage, he gestured to Kit in a way that suggested he lead them out of the tavern. Once outside, the brunette looked both ways up and down the street, squinting at the scene around them.

“Hurte save me this place is the worst.” He muttered, breathing on his hands to warm them up and straightening his vest. Taking a deep breath and placing a smile on his face, the gold-and-green eyed man turned back to Kit.

“So how does an Anaxi delight such as yourself, end up in a horror show such as Vienda. You play that instrument well enough, so you have some form of skill or education. And you’re galdori, so you came from money. What demons is Kit Evedane chasing away?” Leaning closer as they walked, hands in his pockets, Elias nudged him with an elbow.

“If you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He said quietly, before bursting into tipsy exuberant laughter and straightening again. Removing his hands from his pockets and reaching for his cigarette’s again, the Bastian withdrew another two, putting one between his lips and another behind his ear. Tucking the pack away, he brushed against the other galdor’s field with his own, the sense of his aura porven with holes and frayed with broken bonds. The mona didn’t thrum around him with warmth or comfort, instead it seemed to be shying from him, clearing away from the being that had shown many times over that he had no respect for them or the gift he had.

“Could you…” The tan skinned man held the cigarette between his fingers, wiggling it in the air in a silent request for assistance.

word count: 551
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Kit
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Thu May 30, 2019 3:41 pm

39th Intas | Evening
The Black Dove
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“Delicious indeed…”

Kit watched with an amused smile as the younger Bastian attempted to straighten himself out. It was rather endearing, he was clearly a mess that no amount of finger-combing was going to solve… but then the musician knew full well that he himself was shortly going to be just as dishevelled- if not more.

“Glorious company, eh? Don’t oversell yourself now, Elias, I’ll expect you to live up to it.”

Flashing the other glador a brilliant grin, he leaned over the bar once more to call the attention of the human behind it.

“Sweetheart? Change of plans, I’ll take my pay now if you don’t mind.”

The coins were dropped, clinking, into his open hand before he’d even finished speaking- the woman having seen this exact scenario played out more than once at the end of one of Kit’s sets- but as he went to pull away with a wink and a “Same time next week?” her bony hand shot out, quick as a flash, to clap around his wrist.

“Take the toffin off m’ hands, aye, he’s been bringin’ down the whole room- but don’t ye come back in the mornin’ claimin’ ye forgot I’d given it to ye.”

Her deadpan stare was met with the playfully innocent blue gaze of a man used to pushing his luck- and mostly succeeding.

“Would I do that now, darling? I’m wounded that you think so little of me.”

Her glare continued.

“Four times in’t last year.”

He tilted his head with a winsome smile, and she relented, sighing, and released his hand.

“If ye weren’t so easy on the eye Kit, I swear…”

He laughed, blew her a kiss, and pocketed the coins, grabbing the gesturing hand of his new companion to tug him out behind the exuberant golly into the crisp, salt-scented night air.

Out in the street, Kit tucked his hands into trouser pockets as he breathed in the chill, feeling the tingle as it sharpened his senses. In a way, he welcomed it- the musician had stumbled across something better than alcohol to distract himself with tonight. Not that he intended to sober up entirely any time soon…

Hearing the loathing in Eli’s cultured tones, he chuckled.

“Only a couple of streets away, I promise. We’ll be back in the warm before you know it, and you can pretend you’re in one of the lower-class Viendan establishments.” He was already walking as he spoke, jovial steps backwards, and grinned as he added, “Keep up, handsome,” before turning on his heel and setting a brisk pace.

But Elias was talking, and ...damn me, if he doesn’t keep poking...

Physically, as well as verbally, it seemed, as an elbow caught him in the ribs.

“Some form of education? I’ll say… I think a full sentence served at Brunnhold qualifies…” he muttered, almost bitterly. “I did manage to graduate, much to my family’s surprise.”

He sighed, considering just what information to part with, and what to keep to himself.

...well, it’s not like he couldn’t look up my name if he wanted to...

“Anyone who’s trained at all as a Seventen, spent more than a few weeks in Numbrey, knows the name Edevane.”

The silver flask came out, and Kit took a swig- swirling it round his mouth to feel the burn before swallowing- and offered it to Elias before pocketing it once more.

“I’m not exactly officer material. I managed to make enough of a nuisance of myself that the pater kindly requested I fuck off and stop bringing the family name into disrepute.”

His boot clinked against a bottle lying in the gutter, and he gave it a desultory kick, sending it clattering away.

“They were ...kind.” The last word was all but spat. “They didn’t legally disown me. Oh...sure...”

Pulling the matchbook out of his pocket again, he broke one off and lit it, pulling in close to the other man as the flame flared to life, shielding it from the night air with one hand and a hunched shoulder for Eli to duck in and light his cigarette.

He very carefully didn’t mention the dark corners of his mind that had been present for as long as he could remember, the thoughts that drove him to drown them out again and again and again...

...no reason for him to hear that…

“So, you see, my demons are all of my own making. What about yours?”

He looked over the flame into gold-rimmed eyes, noting the sharp contrast of golden light and dark shadow that outlined that aquiline nose, the damaged, unkempt field that brushed so brazenly against his own.

...meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend...
word count: 844
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Elias Mercucianno
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Thu Jun 13, 2019 9:55 am

Intas 39th, 2719
OLD ROSE HARBOR| EVENING
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Smirking as Kit brashly flirted, Elias watched with an appreciative eye as the red head turned away to jaunt up the street ahead of him, not at all ashamed to let his gold rimmed gaze roam over the outline of a body not built for cushy Viendan dens of cognac and cigars.

“Oh, don’t worry my delightful friend, I am most definitely able to keep up. All night, if I need to.” He drawled in a thick Bastian tongue, laughing again as he continued his questioning of the musician, making a face at the mention of the red bricked University.

“Gods, I did five years in the belly of that beast. Congratulations for graduating then, Mister Edevane.” The brunette quipped, his brows raising and a sound of impressed surprise escaping him as the other man revealed his Seventen background. Taking the flask when it was offered, the galdor took a swig, wincing as he handed it back to Kit and listening with a couple of sympathetic nods. Expectations of the adults falling onto the shoulders of their spawn. Eli knew that feeling, even if he’d not got the chance to be resentful of his parents. His mother had pushed him hard to study and his father had wanted him to pilot a ship of his own. Even Leandrah had tried to get him to excel with his music. At the time, the young man still a teenager without responsibility or consequence, had rebelled. He’d whined over mathematics and gauges, and groaned over chords and keys. He’d been a complainer.

He should have just listened.

As Kit brought the match from the book, striking it and leaning close to shield it from the weather, the tipsy Bastian leaned in to puff on the end of the cigarette, lingering even after it was lit and glancing up into delightfully blue eyes with a purposefully intense look. The match flame accented perfectly sculpted high cheekbones and a jawline that just begged to be nibbled by eager lips. The other galdor’s field brushed his own, ramscott and whole, as though boastful against his pathetic frayed aura. Things stirred in that field, wicked hints of things that the dark haired creature deliciously desired. Distractions from this tumble hut that his life had become. Temptations that blanketed longing thoughts of a taller, paler being.

Damn.

Finally straightening, he rolled his hand in a ridiculously formal mockery of the Officers Salute.

“Thankyou, sir.” Eli purred, dragging on his spliff and turning his head to blow the smoke away from Kit. He might be a wreck, but he still had some etiquette. Examining the end of the burning roll of tobacco and paper, the Bastian’s smirk fell, his green and gold gaze seeming to look into the ember and beyond to something else. Something he didn’t want to stare to long at, lest it drag him down into the cloying black depths of his contrast self-loathing.

“Mine belong to the Gods, and I deserve every inch of punishment they lay at my feet.” Inhaling sharply on the cigarette, Elias looked back at the handsome creature with a wry smile.

“Let’s see. I uh…I was robbed. Or rather, I was in the process of being robbed, when I interupted the intruder. I brailed, and subsequently accidentally set my home on fire. Whilst I was delirious with backlash, my would be thief became my unexpected hero, and saved me whilst all my belongings turned to ash. But that shouldn’t be an issue, I mean, I’m galdori. I have money put away for those things.” Raising a finger, he waggled it.

“Or I did. Turns out the prestigious Bank of Vienda can’t even clocking well tell my face from some random with a forged signature. Chroveshite bastards cleaned me out, not even a fort left.” Holding the cigarette in his lips, the Bastian straightened his shirt and winked.

“That’s not even the end of it. So I go home, to Bastia. At least I’ve got the family home there right?” Clapping his hands together in a loud burst of sound, the man shouted around the spliff.

“Boom, wrong! I get there, and it’s nothing more than a charcoal doorframe and a couple of blackened bricks. Some fucking…ersehole…has set it aflame. So here I am, now broke as any bloody human and completely screwed. I used some of what I had in my pockets to get to Old Rose, because I figured it would be cheaper than Vienda or Brunnhold. Only, it’s not really, because it’s so fucking horrible here that you drink more to drown out the overwhelming oppressive scent of misery that lingers over the town.” Taking the cigarette between two fingers, the brunette stepped back slightly, spreading his arms wide in a ‘ta-da’ sort of gesture.

“And here we are! Broke, somewhat drunk and really clocking hoping that Hurte would just let me go.” Pausing for a dramatic moment, Eli suddenly snorted with tispy giggles and drew conspiringly close to Kit, half whispering-half talking into his ear.

“See, that’s the worst part my delicious Seventen Runaway. No matter how shit my life gets, I will die an old old broken man, because that’s the punishment I deserve. That’s…ah shit…” He stepped back, squeezing the bridge of his nose and gritting his teeth, before taking a deep breath and lifting his gaze again. Taking another drag, he smiled, looking over the red clad man with a sigh.

“That’s enough story time with Uncle Elias I think. You promised a boy something full bodied…and I believe I’m rather thirsty after all this….sharing. Bloody musicians and your pretty faces.” Reaching out with one hand, Eli couldn't resist stroking a finger down the leather arm of the Anaxi's jacket.

"You really wear this well, but I think I would wear it much better." He rumbled, changing topics from the depressing thoughts in his mind to the immediate delights standing just before him, drawing a lip between his teeth like some wanton tumble in heat.

word count: 1063
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Kit
Posts: 47
Joined: Fri Jan 04, 2019 1:03 pm
Topics: 2
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
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Writer: Foxing
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Fri Jun 21, 2019 8:50 am

39th Intas | Evening
The bosom of Old Rose
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L
ighting his cigarette with the offered flame, Elias met his gaze with an unmistakable understanding, a lingering invitation of a look.

Gods, it was such fun, this dance. Each man knew full well what he wanted, what the other wanted- how, with any luck, this night would end- but...

...sweet lady, the journey is enjoyable…

But now Elias was speaking again, and as the depressing tale unfolded in the golly's deceptively light tones, the undercurrent of bitterness swirling in his porven field filtered through, filling Kit with a sudden rush of pity. He swallowed, thrusting hands deeper into his pockets as he walked.

"...well...fuck…"

He really didn't have anything else to say to such an outpouring of self-deprecating woe, though the muscles in his jaw shifted as he clenched his teeth for the briefest moment, wondering who in the world the Bastian had pissed off to be so thoroughly ruined.

The story had taken them down the street and round a corner, and down another street which, if Elias was paying attention, he would notice was a dead end. They halted in the alley by battered wooden stairs that snaked up the side of the building, which Kit leaned against, unhooking his guitar strap from around his neck. He waited for the eloquent man to finish, fascinated despite himself, sending a glance up at the window above them as Elias yelled into the night through gritted teeth.

"Here we are indeed… and can I say, I’m rather glad you haven’t shuffled off this mortal coil just yet. Do you make a habit of wandering off with strange musicians...with pretty faces?” he asked then, brow quirked, glancing down at the fingers dancing over the leather of his sleeve.

“Are you attempting to get me out of it already?” The hand that didn’t grip the neck of his instrument came up to brush calloused thumb over chiseled cheekbone.
"My my...well, you’ll have to wait, darling. Hold that thought, I’ll be back in just a moment.”

He flashed the tipsy man a grin, vaulting over the low banister and taking the steps two at a time. He didn’t bother fumbling in pockets for the key, simply turning the handle with the assurance that if the door was unlocked, Shae was home.

The handle turned, the door swung open with a slight creak, and there she was, curled up on the couch, fingers working at the strings of the secondhand guitar they’d picked up from a pawnshop only a scornight ago. The diminutive Bastian looked up as he entered, the husky notes of her singing stilling in confusion.

“I thought you said you’d be out late tonight?”

“I am,” he assured her with a grin, setting his own guitar down against the wall by the door with a musical thunk. “I thought you’d appreciate the warning, I might have company when I return. And,” he added, voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone as he crossed the couple of steps to the couch, bending to sneak a fond kiss, “He’s rather delectable, so I will be needing the bedroom… if you think you can spare it, madame.”

He pulled away with a wink.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he grinned, sweeping the girl a low bow as he backed out of the door once more, closing it behind him before bounding back down the steps to join Elias at their foot.

The redhead sighed happily, stretching arms and rolling his shoulders, working out the kinks of the day.

“Free as a bird, finally...come on, not long now, I promise.”

He was true to his word. Barely five minutes later they were being ushered through a discreet entryway by a doorman who was clearly better-paid than most of his ilk, though just as broad.

The interior wasn’t lavish, but it was well-kept, the bar polished, upholstery clean, and the clientele among the upper echelons of Old Rose, wicks and humans alike well fed, well dressed, and well into their cups.

Kit shrugged off his jacket as they entered- this place was much warmer than the Dove- and loosened a couple of shirt buttons as he strode with purpose towards a corner booth, every inch the golly down to the flick of the wrist that made his signet ring flash in the gaslight as he summoned a server.

“Good evening, darling. A pipe and...wine or brandy?” he finished, turning to Elias as he slid behind the round table, settling into the seat with a smile. “They serve an excellent peach brandy here.”




...meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend...

word count: 817
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