This Isn’t My Order

Charity mistakes Gale for someone else

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Charity Valentin
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Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
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Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
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Thu Oct 11, 2018 7:12 pm

Yaris 4th, 2718
DSOH HUT | SOMETIME FAR TO LATE OR EARLY...
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Gods, she was a mess. A huge, disastrous, walking mess.

Charity sat perched on the edge of her bar stool, elbows on the scratched hardwood tabletop and arms crossed, her loose platinum locks falling around her face with abandon. They had of course, been pinned back sternly at the start of her evening, but after the show and with a good dab of Crop on her tongue the pianist had pulled all the pins out with a rebellious freedom. Her fine theatre gown, a powder blue corseted piece, pooled around her to hide her feet swinging back and forth at least a foot from the polished hardwood floor.

“Hi, hello, yes good...night? No, morning? Good whatever. I would like the garmon dsoh, with eggs and thick noodles. Oh, and a small service of rice. Ooh, and whatever that is.” The aging Hoxian woman taking her order nodded politely, scratching words on a small chalkboard, before turning and screeching through the small inner window that opened into the kitchen. She spoke sharply in Hoxian, clearly having some choice words with someone inside before turning back to Charity with a grin.

“Just five minutes. Three tallies.” She said in broken estuan, nodding and holding out her hand. The galdor sat back, swaying slightly as she patted down the pockets of her thick black coat, finding her coin purse and throwing a handful of coins on the bench. The Hoxian watched with widened eyes as a few shills and two tallies chimes as they fell onto the wood.

“Here. A glass of Percival Armstrong's Tonic To Soothe What Ails You, and keep the change.” Shifting, she uncrossed her arms and curled her fingers into her hair with a sigh. Her head swam foggily, vaguely recalling the sonata she’d participated in that evening, itching suddenly to play it again. It was a ballad. A love song. Charity smiled slowly to herself, running her hands through her locks and resting her chin on her fists, crossing her ankles as her feet swung gently.

She should play it for Rhys.

The intoxicated musician giggled to herself, biting her lower lip as her hazy mind wandered its way through Roalis. It was still almost a dream to think they’d found each other again after so long. Father had no idea, and she had to keep it that way, but even with the ever present danger of Captain D’arthe, the petite galdor knew it was worth the risk. Because she loved the foolish tall Seventen.

She loved him, always had. Always would.

Alioe, but he deserved better. He couldn’t know how she felt, because if he did, he might feel the same. She would just break his heart again. There was no future for him with her. Not with Damen around.

“Why can’t it all just be simple?” She muttered to herself, burying her head in her crossed arms with a groan.

“Tonic for you, miss. Dsoh soon. You drink. Make happy.” The Hoxian keep tapped her arm, offering Charity a small shallow ceramic cup full of an alluring lime green beverage. The tonic was laced with Laudeum, a popular way to get high legally, should you drink enough. The blonde raised her head, smiling wanely and taking the cup to knock it back in one go. Wincing as she swallowed, Charity waggled the white ceramic tableware.

“Another, if I may.” She said softly, waiting for the older human to take the cup and refill it.

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Gale
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Fri Oct 12, 2018 8:52 am

dsoh hut | a dark hour
4 YARIS 2718
The whistle echoed down through the streets, an eerie tune that reverberated off the stonework as it climbed into the darkness of the night sky. Footsteps patted along side, leather creaking under the footfall. Shoulders swaggered, clean hair slicked back, Artful gave a brief glance back through the lamp light, casually observing the few who lingered out that night. There was no one of interest here, just another collection of mundane faces that meant little to the smith. The usual garb was adopted, long overcoat of faded and worn colours, the light weight scarf found its position around her neck, the collarless shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Another scrub of the night, with a sack of tins over one shoulder clattering as they walked - passersby would no doubt assume he was on task for some master of theirs. Tucked out of sight beneath the layers and bindings however sat the growing familiar weight of Liberator for the off chance a serious emergency arose. The smaller cases called for the slender iron knife tucked behind the opening of the coat - should authority rear its head however, the smith would quite happily admit to having the blade.

A cigarette was lit up, a brief spark illuminating the darkness. Inhaling, the human continued on to their destination.

It was a simple job, deliver to one of the many contacts out there. Playing delivery was no hard task, it got her away from the forge and into the world. Yawning, she saw the destination and promptly beelined for it. Ducking beneath the doorway, she gave a small wave to the woman behind the counter, a broad smile as her eyes adjusted. She wasted no time striding up to the counter, sack clunking on the side.

There was the small tilt of the head, orbs focusing briefly on the creature that had found itself here - a bloody Gollie - before her attention swivelled round.

"Alright, Ma'am?" the smith began, words deliberately enunciated. She unloaded the three tins within, "Boss is on a late work, sent me to get the grub in." There was a small shake of the third, a faint sound of something sifting within, "You reckon you could get this loaded up for me with the usual?" She saw the Hoxian woman blink, smile and collect the tins. Pulling herself up onto the stool, Gale rummaged through her pockets and begun counting through the various hats and tallies, "Before that though, you get me somethin' - I don't know. Surprise."

Can't exactly say cheap.

Gale shrugged. Up on the barstool now, she gave a glance around the establishment. Small, but open, the faint clicking of foreign tongues sounding from behind. The Hoxian meanwhile counted it all up, "For Boss usual - seven tallies. Will take fifteen. You, fried noodles, sweet sauce and spice, tea - three tallies. In five minutes."

The human slid the coins across, quietly counting them out as she went along. They were quickly snatched up, the order and the tins slid on through to the other side. A heavy clay cup was passed, a small nod as Gale leaned back to observe. The Gollie being here caught her off guard, and was something she kept a careful eye on. A pair of others, the late night workers catching a break were minding their own business - seemingly already working their way into their meals. She caught the scent of a dark tea being poured out into the cup.

The Gollie was a curious creature. Seemingly out of place and under some level of influence. The knocking back of the drink proved that, and the slurred request for more. As long as things were kept under control, there should be no problems tonight. And the best way to avoid problems was to stay out of obvious trouble. She had to force herself not to stare too much, inevitably forcing her gaze to stare out into the middle distance of the world beyond the door.

Snubbing out the cigarette, she placed the remains in her tobacco box. It was hard not to fidget, fingers idly drumming on the counter, the minutes slowly being counted down. A torture of sitting and waiting, brought out with an idle hum. There were questions of course, all of which needed time to answer - what is the suitable amount of powder to use in firearms, how little was needed to make a shot effective, how could accuracy be increased? Of course, the one other that took to bubbling rudely to the surface was the dubbed 'Rhys issue'.

Sergeant Valentin.

She tutted.

If it really is the case, then that is a problem waiting to brew. I need more information. More than just a name and a face. Not that the features are doing much to help my conscious.

And then frowned.

But where can I get information from? Beyond shaking him down himself? Which would look strange for a human to do to a... man in uniform.

"Drink while hot. Then best."
"Oh. Right. Yes."


Gale sipped their tea.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Charity Valentin
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Sat Oct 13, 2018 2:22 am

Yaris 4th, 2718
DSOH HUT | SOMETIME FAR TO LATE OR EARLY...
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Charity barely paid attention to the warm body sliding into the stool beside her, placing the shallow ceramic on the benchtop and tapping two fingers on the side of it whilst she waited. The keep and the person beside her exchanged words, and the young galdor stared at the white cup, somewhere lost in the troubled narcotically enhanced thoughts that simmered in her mind.

“Whilst..oh you mean. Sorry, I thought you meant me.” Smiling at the Hoxian as she refilled the tonic, the pianist threw it back again with a hiss and a shudder, catching the toss of dirty blonde locks and high cheekbones.

Oh!

Turning to face the person beside her, Charity grinned suddenly, dropping the cup on the bench and swivelling to grab the figure by the lapels of their faded overcoat and dragging them in for a rather wobbly kiss.

“Clocks! I didn’t even recognise you. I didn’t even sense you.” She breathed, biting her lip and glancing down at his own with a giggle.

“Mmm...you smell different. Did you change your soap? Or...wait...” Charity drew further back, holding the blonde at arms length with a confused frown.

She looked Rhys up and down.

No. She looked a stranger up and down.

She blinked.

“You’re not...oh my Alioe! Oh Gods, I am sorry, I am so sorry sir!” She stammered, absolutely horrified at what she’d just done, snatching her hands away rapidly. The keep looked between Gale and Charity as she placed down the young galdori’s noodles, one eyebrow slowly creeping up her forehead. The petite woman turned rapidly from the stranger beside her, turning beet red and both hands pressed over her face.

“Clocking hell, I thought you were someone else, and I just...I thought...Good Lady, let the ground open up and swallow me whole.” Dragging her hands though her hair, Charity curled her hand around the noodle bowl and picked up a fork, keeping her violet gaze on the steaming soupy meal.

“You don’t even have a field, of course you’re not him. What a clocking kensers erse! Well done Charity, well clocking done.” She muttered into the bowl, before twisting up a forkful of the thick eggy lengths and shovelling them into her mouth to keep it occupied with less dangerous things such as talking or kissing.

He looks so much like Rhys though!

The blonde snuck a slow glance at the stranger, chewing and swallowing the noodles before pointing at herself with the fork.

“I just feel the need to clarify, I don’t go around kissing random humans. Or any humans. I’m not like that. Not that you would care—but that’s not the point! The point is....” She opened her mouth, holding the fork up like a finger, frozen as though she’d completely lost the ability to think or speak. Her mouth closed, before she took a breath and opened it again, finally sighing with a shrug.

“I don’t know what the point is, but I just wanted to let you know. I’m here for the noodles, not for the nightlife.” Nodding curtly, as though she believed she had explained herself perfectly well, the intoxicated woman returned to her meal tapping the edge of her ceramic cup as she made eye contact with the Hoxian woman.

“Besides, you should stop going around...looking like people! It’s weird.” The delicate pianist said grumpily, waving her fork for emphasis.

Once of these days you’re going to get into real trouble, and there won’t be any Seventens in verdant uniform to come save you.

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Gale
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Sun Oct 14, 2018 3:51 pm

dsoh hut | a dark hour
4 YARIS 2718
The press of lips. The sharp inhale. Some strange concoction that reminded her of overpowered peppermint and something more acidic, dancing upon her senses. Hairs rose, the air escaping her lungs as this creature draped herself over the form of the smith. Throat tightening, the sound fell away to some white noise. Eyes wide, colour having drained from her face. Something was said, a posed question - weighted or perhaps even rhetorical.

Is this a joke?

Gale's hands went still.

Some kind of sick joke?

A curl of a lip, twisting up into a grimace. It was perhaps then she only realised that this petite creature - having caught them so off guard - had brought them up into a partial stand; all but pulled off the very stool they were perched upon. A low hum of noise filled her ears, a constant beat of noise as the blood rushed up to their head. The body remained frozen in place, the normally sharp and intelligent mind stumbling.

IS IT?

The cold traced its way down the spine, reality jerking back in to the chinking of the cup. Gale may have not noticed the expression growing on their own face; the manner the lip quivered, the curling into the shoulders to shield against the growing sensation of vulnerability, the eyes that looked beneath the brow - searching for an answer where there was none to be had.

"You after a joke?" the human choked out. There was a firm clunk of food as it was placed on the side, the steaming contents of Gale's own meal, "Some easy laugh? Throwing it down to lookin-"

Valentin. That bastard mother fu-.

Swallowing, Gale forced themselves to sit down. Hands pushed down flat against the counter, gaze shifting into a stare upon her bowl of steaming food. This woman continued to make excuses, turning it round onto the human. Of course it was their fault, it always was with the Galdori. Always looking to an easy life of ruling while the workers worked. Under influence, it was becoming increasingly obvious now.

"To be blunt," Gale's voice turned dry, struggling to form words, "I don't think the Good Lady is goin' to answer that wish after your fuck up. So live with it and move on."

A forced inhale, it was hard to not miss the sideways glances - mere stolen moments trying to piece something together. Unable to pull themselves out of the hunch they stared into the depths, "Anything else you want of me? A pretty tune or dance on hot coals or whateffer? Shall I get a nice doctor to rip my face and gift it to you after - so you know you own the face of someone who looks like... dunno. Some other pretty Gollie boy?"

Stomach knotted, the smith noted the immediate loss of appetite. The mind had grown blank, unsure and unable on how to proceed. With no experience in these circumstances, or anything remotely in the field of relationships and romance for that matter, they were left floundering in the social deep end. It was terrifying, and Gale was only beginning to realise that. The eyes were upon her, waiting for her to react. To do or say something. Anything.

A sniff. The emotions had rushed to their head. Overwhelming and difficult to deal with - frustrating as they sunk their claws in and took control.

I need to be steel. Cold. Unmoving and-

"Think I lost my hunger. You want it?" It was nudged towards Charity, "You look like you are having munchies," sheepishly the eyes looked to the Hoxian woman, "You mind if I have a smoke?"

A shake of the head was the answer.

Lighting up, Gale placed the end of the cigarette to their lips, holding it there while inhaling a long drag. The bitter taste filled the senses, smothering the sense of panic and leaving a distinct feeling of nausea, "I'm no good at this stuff. Sorry. Though, certain that's not good enough answer for yourself. Though, dunno what is for your sort."
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Charity Valentin
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Race: Galdor
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Mon Oct 15, 2018 8:38 am

Yaris 4th, 2718
DSOH HUT | SOMETIME FAR TO LATE OR EARLY...
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”A joke? I don’t—“ Charity began, taken a back for a moment by the blonde human’s comments. Was she after a joke? Did the man think that was the idea?

”I don't think the Good Lady is goin' to answer that wish after your fuck up. So live with it and move on."

The pianist almost dropped her fork, head snapping to stare at the person beside her with wide eyed shock, brow slowly drawing in frustration.

“I beg your pardon! I hardly—“ Her mouth clamped shut as the clearly horrendously offended stranger continued to snap at the young galdor, staring angrily into their noodles as though they could boil them with looks alone. Lower lip quivering, Charity felt the sting of hot tears burning the corners of her eyes, field wavering as she swallowed the stunned and intoxicated verbal slap in the face.

“Right. Nothing else. I’m sorry.” She said quietly, turning back to her steaming bowl of dsoh and poking at the noodles swimming in the broth. Blinking, she swore softly as a tear managed to escape, rapidly reaching to clear it away with a couple of sniffles and a straightening of her shoulders. It was definitely not Rhys, just another human with oppression worn on his sleeve like a war medal. It was to be expected, even those she had purchased from had at first been hateful and wary of her or Diaxio. Mildly, the old scar under her ribs ached, reminding the Captains Daughter of how that hatred could manifest itself into a physical act of violence.

Just eat your noodles, and stop aggravating the huma—aah woahhh.

The rapidly consumed, laudanum laced alcohol hit her like a wash of warm, comforting tea. Charity closed her eyes for a moment, leaning both elbows on the table and curling her fingernails into her palms. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the second bowl of dsoh and shook her head, stopping rapidly with a slow release of the breath.

“No thankyou. I can’t even really only eat one of these, I just have eyes bigger than my belly.” The musician offered the man a rapid half smile, before occupying her mouth with food. At the strangers last comment, Charity snorted and laughed a little.

“No good at what stuff? Telling a galdori to suck it up? Or verbally drop kicking a golly’s erse? Because in that area good sir, you are well and truly excelling.” Twirling up more eggy wheat strands, the petite blonde slurped them into her mouth with little grace, using a napkin to wipe her face.

“If it’s the whole kissing thing, you’re doing a clocking sight better than me there. Can’t even tell my...” The inebriated musician paused.

Boyfriend? Friend? Lover?

“...Rhys from some utter stranger.” She laughed then, properly, shaking her head with a sigh.

“My sort? Tocks sir, even I don’t know what’s good enough for my sort.” Groping for the ceramic shallow cup, Charity tapped it again, only to watch the Hoxian frown and shake her head.

“Too much. You have too much. Not good for heart. Even for magic healing.” The blonde pouted, breaking the egg in her noodles with curiosity and allowing the silky orange yolk to ooze into the broth.

“Delightful.” She said with a slow grin, scooping a piece of thin meat through the egg and savoury concoction and slipping it into her mouth, the Hoxian’s rejection forgotten. The Crop and the Tonic were raging wickedly through her veins, causing her roller coaster of emotions to level out into a state of sensory numbness. Humming a tune softly under her breath, the D’Arthe smiled at Gale warmly.

“You...you look an awful lot like a golly I know. Did I tell you that? I did tell you that. Sorry again.” She half breathed, as though forming actual sounds was too much effort, humming again as she turned back to the bowl.

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Gale
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Mon Oct 15, 2018 10:44 am

dsoh hut | a dark hour
4 YARIS 2718
“Forget it. I’m just a bitter grumpy human who is just goin’ out their way to ruin people’s evenin’. And I find words hard,” Gale murmured shrugging further into herself, “Like, I understand them. I know ‘em. But, got none of that social tact. People are harder. I don’t get ‘em. Good knowing I do bloody awful right. ‘Haps I’m the villain in your story. What next? Locking’ away in some tower for some prince to come rescue?”

A truth, in a matter of speaking. They were not metal, they were not things where the inconsistencies could be worked upon and forged in a logical manner. But more deeply it was the lacking understanding of some meaningful bonds. Another firm drag of the cigarette, the smith focused on the burning tobacco, the dark ash that dangled invitingly at the end. Something acidic rested in the back of the throat, an uncomfortable clenching sensation. Yet beside her the creature seemed to suck back the tears, put on a stiff upper lip and get on with it – while Gale themself tried to hold back the sensation and desire to shake.

How brave.

The smith accepted they were the villain in this picture. The distinct flavour of tobacco was the only thing that seemed to make sense currently, a small slither of logic. The fact that Gale had hit a point of near complete stillness had escaped their mind; that everything was locked in place. Daring not to turn the head, lest it be seen as some slight – and further ammunition to be used against this mounting scenario. Yet the laughter did not miss the ears of the cadet, the changeable mood having taken the creature beside them. Perhaps it was for the best, this incident being little more than unpleasant dream to the Galdori.

Gale however? It was a thick and unpleasant discomfort – perhaps in time laughter would instead come, but currently it would leave something much more lingering.

Still, the mention of Rhys tickled something in the back of her mind – not enough to stir out of the current mental state, but enough to prickle against the swirling thoughts.

Well that is a juicy piece of information. ‘My Rhys’. How deliciously delicate and filling of the senses. Every storm cloud bears a silver lining. Still. Disengage from the current topic. Don’t show weakness. Don’t let them know you care. They certainly don’t.

“That’s presumptive,” Gale’s lids drooped as she stared upon the counter, “But, guess that doesn’t matter. Half what makes life. Findin’ out all the stuff.” A puff of smoke escaped between her nostrils, “Like what does and doesn’t work. Things that don’t, dunno, get throw back into the fire and forged anew.”

The last of the cigarette burned out, quicker than she wanted. Sighing, she stubbed it out and considered picking out the next. The small glances however did not escape the attention, the dopey smile as whatever took over promptly did so, “You made it clear enough. I’m guessin’ you mean this Rhys fella to be specific. You’d probably think different if you weren’t lookin’ through clouded eyes. I ain’t exactly much to look at.”

A question was posed then, the once clipped accent forced into being clearer. Gale tapped the side of their own skull in emphasis, “Why does it bother you? I mean, bar the obvious. What does it niggle at in there, right in the back of your mind?”

Letting the thought sit, the smith turned their attention to the rejected food. Hand grasped the second bowl, hoisting it up. Eyes still turned downwards, but the voice called out clear to the hut, “Bowl of noodles. Any takers? Any at all? Free dish on me. Goin’ once! Goin’ twice-!“
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
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Wed Oct 24, 2018 4:12 pm

4th of Yaris, 2718
The ONLY GOOD PLACE for DSOH in UPTOWN | A LATER HOUSE THAN USUAL
He couldn't stare at the paperwork any longer. He just clocking couldn't. His uniform was still bloodied and his vision blurred with exhaustion, body sore from wrestling yet another godsbedamned Black Hand into arrest. Glancing up, he caught Potiphar's gaze,

"Clock it, let's go home, Constable."

"Agreed. We're not going to get anything worthwhile done at this Ladyforsaken hour." The other man chuckled, blearily running a hand over his face before replacing his spectacles and standing, tossing a fistful of papers onto his desk and reaching for his coat, the green fabric so meticulously free of the same grime and gore that his superior officer's was. Always.

"That's the truth. Listen, check in with the Patrol downstairs for me, would you? Shift change. Make sure that wick is waiting for us tomorrow." It was a lame shift in responsibility, the young Valentine knew, but Rhys had no interest in even risking running into Captain D'Arthe. Not now. Not ever. Pots was used to this, however, and he gave a little knowing grin before he mocked a salute and slipped away toward the stairs.

Ersehat.

Curling fingers into his hair, Rhys paused to stare at his desk one more time as if he was forgetting something. Deciding he wouldn't remember where he lived if he lingered too much longer, the tall blond adjusted his sash and then turned and fled the Seventen Headquarters without a second look back. He could have taken the main thoroughfares, brightly lit by phosphor lanterns and probably bustling with a few city folk even at this ungodsly house. He could have taken a rickshaw or even hopped on a ferry down one of the side canals from the Arova to make his route to Kingsway a little bit faster.

But he didn't.

Picking absently at his own blood now dried on the flap of his uniform while he traced familiar back alleys and slipped from one dark street to the next with muscle memory leading him in confidence, the young Valentin mulled over the shitstorm of the day and slowly let his thoughts drift to Charity, as he'd stepped up his hunt for opiate dealers in Vienda without breathing a word to anyone else. He wasn't in it for the accolades anyway. He was in it for totally selfish reasons, and he knew it.

Would Captain Haines notice?

Would anyone, for that matter?

Did he clocking even care?

The familiar scents of the Kingsway night market began to fill his senses, and Rhys was made painfully aware by a twisting in his stomach that he'd skipped dinner for the third night in a row. Had he eaten lunch? He couldn't remember, the day a blur of conflict and paperwork, and so he didn't even have to think about making his way into the comfortable little dsoh shop he lived above, the little bell of the door such a familiar noise that he didn't hear it anymore.

"Yotaiiiiixan!" Welcomed the old Hoxian human, her face lighting at his sight. Having a Seventen above your shop was nothing to complain about, especially when that Seventen could practically eat his weight in noodles. When he looked up to smile, it was a brief flash of teeth before a particularly unforgettable field caught his attention, snapping his blue-eyed gaze toward the unexpected sight of Charity leaning against the counter. What little smile he had faltered instead of warmed, for even as he approached, the delicate pianist was most certainly not sober.

Was she waiting for him? Had something happened? She had a key—

He was a few steps from reaching for her, from speaking her name, when the blond next to her spoke up loudly in a voice he couldn't not recognize—

The Sergeant stopped in his tracks, confused, concerned. There, sitting next to the young galdor woman he willingly claimed as his lover was Mister Saunders. A human. From the Soot District.

What in Alioe's name?

His field shifted, tightened, and it was with reluctance that he pulled his gaze away from the back of Gale's head to meet Charity's violet gaze as she recognized his presence. Rhys put on his most convincing welcoming, roguish grin and reached willingly for the lovely, if not a little disheveled creature as though nothing was writhing in the back of his mind, as if a chill wasn't clawing through his veins, as if curiosity wasn't about to consume his field one particle of Perceptive mona at a time,

"Waiting up for me, beautiful?"

It was only for the most imperceptive of ticks that he glanced toward the human, making sure a look was exchanged that spoke more volumes than the blood on his collar. Tongue sticking against the back of his teeth as he attempted to find his mental footing in this disorienting situation, exhausted and achy, he blinked back to the petite blonde's face, teasing her as if humor could solve everything when he clocking well knew it couldn't, totally unaware of what he'd walked himself into, "How'd you know I'd be hungry?"
Last edited by Rhys Valentin on Fri Oct 26, 2018 11:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Charity Valentin
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Thu Oct 25, 2018 7:56 pm

Yaris 4th, 2718
DSOH HUT | SOMETIME FAR TO LATE OR EARLY...
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The blonde shook her head, pushing back her meal with a wry smile and a sigh, looking over at the human with heavily dilated pupils, causing the violet of her eyes to appear more of a deep indigo.

“Oh, if only you knew the irony of that comment.” She murmured, patting at her pockets to look for her own tin of pre-rolled cigarettes, making a face when she realised they weren’t there. Lost, or left behind, it didn’t matter that much. She waved her hand at the stranger, dismissing any suggestion she might not be thinking clearly.

“No, no it isn’t just the tonic. I’m sure even during daylight hours on the most sober of days, you are an absolute mirror image of…yes of Rhys. And hush. You’re just fine to look at sir.” The pianist said with a tsk, the idea of someone who looked like Rhys thinking they weren’t a looker just about the most ridiculous comment ever. Crossing her arms on the benchtop, she lay her head down, still looking at Gale with a shrug.

“Because…I think I love him. I do love him. Just don’t tell him that, because it’s too complicated. It’s been too short. Too long? I don’t know. I loved him for a long time, but we were apart. Clocks, I’m just rambling now. To you. Strange Not Rhys.”

"Yotaiiiiixan!"

The old Hoxian woman squealed, causing Charity to almost jump out of her skin. She sat up suddenly, head pivoting to see what the human was staring at, and her mouth broke into a wide welcoming grin.

Her Rhys.

If she caught anything out of the ordinary with his own expression, she was far too inebriated to notice it, reaching for the taller galdori as he came to her. Immediately the familiar homecoming of his field mingled with hers, old friends or lovers greeting each other with delight, and she couldn’t help but sigh with relief. The evening had been far too confusing for her mind to process so far.

“There you are!” The blonde hummed with genuine delight, kissing his cheek and jaw and throat, before tasting his soft delectable lips. Drawing back with a grin, she waived on her seat a little and giggled.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you, this is just…dinner? Here look. Look! There’s two of you.” She gestured at the stranger beside her with a flourish, taking a moment to rebalance on her stool.

“Not Rhys, meet Rhys. Rhys, meet Not Rhys.” As her gaze drifted around his person, Charity frowned, fingers brushing his collar where the blood had clung.

“Who’s is this? Is this yours? I don’t like this.” The young musician tapped on the bloodstain, pouting at the thought that her Rhys would have been hurt. Quite suddenly she beamed again, glancing over at Gale with a raised eyebrow.

“My Rhys, definitely my Rhys. He kisses like my Rhys. You kiss like…well you’re not him. You’re definitely not him. You're too grumpy.” Giggling again, the D’Arthe tapped the shallow ceramic cup again, looking at the Hoxian with a bleary smile. The human looked at Rhys and shook her head.

“She have too much. Too many.” Charity shook her head, rolling her eyes back to Rhys and laughing softly, before clearing her throat.

“It’s not too much. It’s nothing. Just a few drinks. Hoxians must be a bit funny about it. Can’t a girl get a nightcap anymore?” Making a face as if to dismiss the Hoxians concerns, she straightened herself and pulled her best sobriety face, drawing the noodles close again. She picked up the spoon and held it up like a sword.

“If you want my noodles, you will have to duel me for them. They’re clocking good. So clocking good. This fellow has noodles he doesn’t want. Apparently I’ve put him off his food. Did I tell you Rhys, he looks like you. Just…doesn’t have a field see. So he’s a human.” She tapped her nose, winking at the Seventen, before turning the utensil around and scooping a spoonful of the broth and sipping it obliviously. The tonic made her feel light, almost like she could fly if she willed it, and her field ebbed and dipped as though it too struggled to stay focused.

“A human Rhys. Ha.” The blonde muttered to herself, glancing at the Seventen and drawing her lip between her teeth. He was lovely, even when he was a mess.

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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
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Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Mon Oct 29, 2018 5:21 am

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dsoh hut | a dark hour
4 YARIS 2718
“I’m charmed that you’d think such. But, my lips are sealed. Filthy human promise,” The world settled into a background hum, the various noises catching her ears. Shifting weights, another customer had entered – the eyes only caught a slither of the Seventen uniform, the brief prickling of a pulse rising before simmering down once more. There was no reason to be alarmed, or to panic – the green orbs swiveled up to see the flash of a roguish grin –

Fake.

- and the returning of the gaze in response to her. Gale knew that look he gave intimately. Admittedly under very different circumstances, but they were not stupid enough to see the hidden connotations. It was the same look fellow Cadets would flash to each other, the small, silent plead, to cover the tracks. The small pinch of the brow, the tightness of the jaw. The smith lifted their cup, a broad, devilish grin briefly flashing behind it before taking a mouthful.

It was delicious.

It amused Gale to no end.

And that was ignoring the furrowed brow the Hoxian was giving at the appearance of two similar looking people.

With a small tilt and turn, head shifting so the uniform of the Seventen could be taken in properly. She had no reason to be uptight with his presence, no reason to tense to his appearance. Though the cool metal of the Liberator whispered otherwise. A small snort of noise, the bowl was promptly passed to him, the lower click of a single word humming between them, “Boemo.”

As you wish.

Holding onto a majority the social cards for a change, the Smith returned to sipping their tea and idly watched the pair. There was a time and place for such things; it was merely waiting for the right time to execute it. Judging by Charity however the pair were obviously involved in some way – though the context seemed amiss. Not that they could exactly work out how. The thought was pocketed and put aside.

“So this is him?” the fingers rubbed upon her chin, “So, is it the uniform or the locks of hair? I mean, he is rather...” the smith hummed, “Dunno the word… dashin’ perhaps?” Inhaling, the smith leaned back against the counter – head turning back in an attempt to peek back into the kitchen beyond – the order would still take time. Not that Gale was exactly in a rush. Her head turned, pretending to gain a look of his rank before giving a small bow from the seat, “Pleasure, Seargent. Interestin’ to put a face to the cooin'.”

“Such is my right to be grumpy,” Gale shrugged. The rest of the cup was drained, but the fingers idly played with it, feeling the rough texture and pits in the surface. A tool that allowed the mind to gain some temporary clarity. The orbs rolled up to Rhys then, sharpening briefly, before an exaggerated, conspiring voice snuck out, “There has been many night caps. Which is probably why…” The thought shuddered in the smith’s skull, cheeks flushing and the gaze instinctively drilling into the counter surface, “Well, yes. That. I didn’t… forget it… mistakes were made. I lost my appetite, ‘nough said.”

The human wiggled the cup to the Hoxian, “another tea if you be kind.”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
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Mon Oct 29, 2018 10:54 am

4th of Yaris, 2718
The ONLY GOOD PLACE for DSOH in UPTOWN | A LATER HOUSE THAN USUAL
Gods, for the briefest of moments, he could pretend, right? Charity smiled at him, a beaming expression of intoxication that made his skin crawl under his green uniform, her hands curling into his well-pressed jacket and her field mingling with his in all the right ways before she kissed him. He could for a breath or two, her lips straying from his but lingering against his too warm skin in front of Alioe and the entire restaurant, in front of Mister Saunders, in front of the nice old Hoxian who sometimes brought food up to his room because she appreciated his kindness, he could for a breath or two pretend this was exactly what he'd wanted, what he'd waited for his whole life—

Just dinner.

Blue eyes opened with a sharp inhale of shattered reverie and his delicate pianist was making a joke of introducing the Sergeant to the human, utterly unaware that they'd met before,

"Pleasure to meet you, Not Me." Rhys' tone was so deadpan while he played along, his hands moving to steady the petite blonde who teetered on the edge of her stool and ran her fingers over the rust-colored stain on his collar, begging to shift his attention back to her face, "It's not my blood, no. Just a drug-dealing ersehat's, lover. Maybe we'll make the morning edition of the Viendan Dispatch again tomorrow."

Had he been in the mood, his tone may have been accusatory in Charity's direction, but her next words caught him so off guard that his eyes widened and his field frayed, one hand reaching for the counter as he peered over the intoxicated galdor's shoulder and all but glared at the blond human, "Kiss? Oh, Good Lady, Charity, you didn't—"

A bowl of still-hot noodles was shoved his way by the human before the Hoxian reminded him of what he already knew and his fingers that had curled into the wood of the bar raised to wave her off, the heat of chagrin clawing down the back of his neck and warming his face. Rhys exchanged a look with the proprietor that passed a silent understanding of his approval to cut off the petite blonde from anything else intoxicating to drink. He slid the bowl closer, but suddenly his appetite had disappeared in a puff of smoke. She'd kissed Mister Saunders, thinking it was him. The human didn't even have a clocking field.

What had he done? What had he gotten himself into? Was this what he'd dreamed of over the past decade? Or was this someone else's dream he'd wake up from soon?

Something hurt beneath his sternum, writhing with a pain he couldn't describe, but he kept his hand on his delicate pianist's thigh, sliding into a seat because if he stayed on his feet any longer, he might just fall over.

How he wanted to grin at the childish antics offered by his lover, deciding not to comment on what she did or didn't need more of as he raised a spoon in mock defense, unable to look at her the way she looked at him, Gale's sudden comments turning his stomach with more embarrassment, drawing in his field like a barrier, "It's definitely the uniform, sir. Gets the ladies every time, you know." He faked a taunting grin, parrying Charity's spoon while enduring Mister Saunder's mockery, angry at the weakness the human now watched like some grand performance.

"Mistakes, indeed." Too many clocking mistakes. He didn't want to dwell on them, but here he was, trapped beneath them like he'd been trapped under the weight of an angry, bleeding, resisting-arrest wick just hours before. Waggling his raised fingers dismissively at Gale, he pretended at forgiveness, weary blue gaze regarding Charity with a longing that weighed down his tone of voice, shaping it into an injured sarcasm, forcing cruelty from the deep places that smoldered in the cavity of his chest, "Things happen—Not Me here bears a certain handsome resemblance, true, but it should have been his humanity that gave him away. Among other things."

Smirking at that, ire raised, he glanced down at the delicious noodles and was quite sure he could taste the bile of his own words instead. Charity didn't know what he knew. He didn't know what Gale knew.

It was all blissful ignorance, but for who?

"I hope it was a fitting thrill for everyone—tea for me, too."
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