Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
There was much work to be done but since his arrival he felt that he had accomplished nothing. Many of his now deceased cousin's belongings remained an unorganized mess but he did not have the heart to go through it yet. A glance outside assured him that it would not be nearly as cold as it had been the last few days yet his joints still ached so he opted to fetch his coat just in case. With a small sigh, the Ronuvian vacated the garage and left to explore the cities.
He had been walking for perhaps a few minutes when his reflection on a barber shop's window caught his attention. Oh, how he had let his hair get long. The red brown locks now fell well passed his shoulders and made him worry he appeared too feminine. How perfect was it that he stopped in front of a barber? With a hesitant step, the Ronuvian man stepped into the shop and called out timidly, "hello?"
With the bell, Savyahn didn’t glance immediately at the door. No, he was trimming the last bit of an older’ man’s hair, or at least, what was left of it. “You don’t say?” He droned, craning for Corey to go greet the newcomer. The shop itself was fairly small, one large room, split into a lounging area toward the front, and the work area to the back. Along the crimson walls, wigs adorned various shelves, including supplies and various trinkets, all form different parts of the world it seemed. Some may have been familiar to the boy, others, maybe not so much. Savyahn took another glance to the door, inspecting his new client as he ran his hand through the man’s remaining hairs. A boy, seemingly quite shy. Must be lost, that, or desperate Sayvahn mused to himself as he laughed at the man’s joke— some sort of crude remark that he could frankly care little about. Corey on the other hand, rushed to greet the newcomer.
“Hello, kind sir. If you want, I can take your coat while you take a seat. The barber will be with you in a moment.” The brown headed boy must had barely been 17, with equally as much, if not more freckles dabbling all over his face and arms. He had a slight limp to his step, often times dragging the foot although it didn’t seem to bother him too much. Not as he leaned forward to grab the other’s coat, leaning on his good knee for support.
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 9, 2016 5:43:29 GMT
Syd's cheeks went red upon hearing the crude joke but he did not comment and kept his eyes downcast. He had gotten a quick view at the barber but it had been a brief glance and only up to the knees. "Oh, hello, sir," he replied back to the lad offering to take his coat. "Yes, please, that, uhm, would be most kind of you," he replied as he shimmied out of his coat then handed it to the other. The limp caught his eyes though he pretended not to notice. Where he came from that sort of thing was normal but at least what he could be happy about was that the boy had a job so perhaps he would not be starving later. He hoped that was the case.
While Syd waited for the barber to see him, he made sure his sleeves were kept smooth and pulled down his arms so as to not expose his tattoos. There was a tendency for people to want to ask to see the whole thing when they caught a glimpse and in this foreign country he did not wish to show any part of himself to strangers. "Has work been well...?" He looked to the boy as he stood around awkwardly, shoulders slightly lifted and hunched forward.
Surprised to be spoken too, Corey wavered between the coat rack and Syd. “Um. “ He began, glancing at Syd, unsure of what to make about the boy. He seemed shy, and frankly, Corey did not want to talk to him. Offending or scaring the customers was a big no no— and the risk of both happening to with the other was too high for Corey’s liking.
“Corey.” Sayvahn bit from the back, walking to the other. He had removed the cloak form the older’ man neck, and was leading him to the door. “Why don’t you clean up while I take over. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Woshen. Tab I presume?” The older man waved him away, laughing a “Yes, as always.” Savyahn gave him a smile, but that was only until he crossed the premises. Then, his smile faltered, looking to Syd with a raised brow. “Hello, dear. What can I do for you today?” Sayvahn hummed, leaning forward to inspect the boy. Baby blue eyes hidden behind long bangs? They were going to have to fix that. Taking a strand, Sayvahn mused for a moment. “A trim? Or a rejuvenation?”
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 9, 2016 23:15:40 GMT
There was a brief moment where Syd felt he may have said something wrong. Was his translation wrong...? The tone in the barber's shop did little to ease his tension. In fact, it only further worried him until he realized the man was speaking to the boy. His eyes quickly passed between the freckled boy and the barber before shuffling a bit to the side to allow the elder man passage.
How the blonde man's expression switched so quickly was frightening. "R-Rejuvination... Sir..?" He did not know what that meant, but the fact that this man just reached out to touch him without permission was surprising to him. With a slight clear of his throat, he shifted back some and gave a small nod. "I, uhm, trim I think--if that is alright?"
Oh my, how timid the boy was. Chuckling, Sayvahn withdrew his hand, instead holding his elbow as he tapped the side of his own cheek. “Ah. It’s a shame to hide that cute face of yours. Isn’t that right, Corey?” The boy looked up from where he swept, startled his name was called. “What’d I do?” The confusion in his eyes was almost as precious as the newcomer’s fear. Still, Sayvahn sighed, rolling his eyes, as he flourished his hand in the direction of the chair. “Just a trim for the young gentlemen then.” With shy types, it always seemed better to rush, to edge them forward, rather then to be patient. Get their little heart beating even more so, not to the point of a heart attack, mind you, but close to it. “Come on sweetie, chop chop.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 10, 2016 5:39:20 GMT
Cute face...? Did this person think he was far younger than he actually was? If that was the case then he could reasonably understand since his features did little to deter that image given his rounder features, the freckles, and the gap between his front teeth. But, if it was something else then Syd was at a loss of words. Complimenting anyone of the same gender was almost an assured death sentence... Unless here they were fine with it? Was it okay to be open with their sexualities?
All his thoughts were interrupted by the call to come along and with a bit of incoherent fumbling of words he was following after the blonde. "I, uhm, th-thank you," said the Ronuvian, voice dropping to a whisper at the end while wringing his hands and seating himself on the chair. "I-I am Syd."
Draping the cloak around Syd, Sayvahn let another smile cross his lips. Oh, this boy was quite precious indeed. He had sent him in a whirlwind alright, leaving him shy and stuttering still. A part of him wanted to further toy with the boy, but alas, that would take the bullying too far. Though, he was surprised to get the other’s name right off the bat. Normally it was a nice gesture to ask for it, since his clients were his customers, but the boy had already beat him to it, and with such a hesitance to.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound certain.” Sayvahn mused aloud, cranking the chair up a bit to have Syd look at his reflection. Yet, that smile remained as he ran a hand across the back of Syd’s neck in nothing more than playful jest, taking a batch of the other’s hair to inspect the length and state of the strands. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Syd. The name’s Sayvahn.” The barber hummed, leaning forward to push apart the other’s bangs. “Sure you don’t want more then a little trim? You do have quite the beautiful set of orbs there, and freckles. Quite fetching, isn’t that right, Corey?” There was an “indeed” that came from somewhere behind a curtain in the back of the store, probably a back room, more or less. “See, even Corey agrees. But, if all you want is a trim.” Sayvahn let out an over dramatic sigh as he released the strands. “Then I’ll just snip snip away.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 10, 2016 22:52:49 GMT
The brush of skin at the back of his neck made his shoulders tense but he lowered them immediately and settled his hands at the edge of his seat. "Sayvahn...? What language is that from?" The name did not sound like a native Lodanite but on the other hand his name did not sound like a native Ronuvian until they hit Miklos.
At the part of his hair Syd stared back at himself in the mirror. His eyes were indeed odd things with how they were predominantly green though some days the lighting made them blue. The only thing that never seemed to change about them were the gold flecks surrounding his pupils. "J-Just a trim," he repeated, curling his lower lip in to chew on as he now lifted his gaze to stare up at the barber through the mirror.
The barber noticed the boy’s unease as he tensed, smiling softly at the younger one tried to hide the movement. Instead of commenting on the action, Sayvahn decided to laugh at the question. “I’m not certain. I like to say it’s from the language of love.” There was a laugh from the back, at which Sayvahn glanced at the curtained room with a raised brow. “But let’s just say somewhere quite a bit away, alright?” Taking part of the hair, he grabbed his scissors and slowly began to cut, the click of the scissors like a small hiss, similar to that of shredded papers. A trim was fine. He just wanted to make sure, for it was truly a shame. Especially on further inspection the boy’s eyes were green, not blue. With the tiniest bit of yellow. Sayvahn chuckled at that. “So, tell me. What brings a boy like you to Lodan? Or have I been unfortunate to never have noticed your presence amongst these fine streets?” Sayvahn hummed, continuing to cut.
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 11, 2016 4:59:40 GMT
"Language of Love...? Is that not from the country across the narrow sea?" His tension died down in favor of curiosity. There were so many things he wanted to know about other countries because all he had known was his own and the few bits his cousin would tell him when he visited--at least until he finally moved. "I--okay," he frowned, seeming to deflate that the other would not tell him. Maybe he did not know. Many people moved to places without ever knowing where they originated from.
"I-I am sorry?" Syd blinked back at himself. Boy? Curse his round features. "Oh, I am not a boy, sir. I am twenty five. I, uhm, I am from the country of Ronuvia. It is some place south of Sveden and Bulruch with other countries between them... Sayvahn, what is Lodan like? The people... How are they?"
So the boy was not from Lodan. Interesting. At the other’s discomfort with the change of topic, and his apology, Sayvahn laughed. “Oh lord, why are you apologizing? Did you harm me in some way? Fostering any evil intentions I should know about?” The man mused, tapping on the lobe of Syd’s ear in minor jest, at least, until he heard the rest. Ah. The apology was probably out of confusion rather than apology, and so Sayvahn corrected himself. “I figured you were in your twenties, but that’s still a boy to me, dear. And ah, Ronuvia. I know of it. Traveled there, once. Interesting place.” If he was from Ronuvia, there was a chance he knew of his old home. “I lived in Masaa, on the nicer side, but people never really know about that side.” Or any side for that matter. Continuing his endeavor, Sayvahn turned the chair so that he could trim the boy’s bangs, musing about the man’s second question. “Lodan is Lodan. Different from the countryside, and fine as long as you keep your pockets tight and your loins tighter.” From the back, Corey let out a groan, and Sayvahn hissed at him to be quiet, although, Corey was probably right. “Well, I suppose I do jest somewhat. The people are fine. Just somber, in this day and age, with the war and all. But I do suggest being wary. Especially with your personality, and your purse. You are like a doe in a hunter’s range, sweetie.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 11, 2016 6:35:26 GMT
"No, no, no! I promise no ill intent," cried a now flustered Syd. While Sayvahn continued on and Syd settled down once more he watched the other man work. "I, uhm, would not say it is interesting," he murmured softly. Masaa? He heard of that country before--another barbaric country. A nice side? That was hard to imagine but would be nice to see. As the conversation drifted to answering his question about Lodan Syd listened devotedly. Keep loins tighter? What could that possibly mean? Corey's groan did little to settle his racing thoughts while Sayvahn continued.
"I do not blame them for being somber. War is a very good reason to be," mumbled the Ronuvian. What was wrong with his personality...? Did it make him an easy target--well yes, people had liked to think he was back in Ronuvia as well until they realized they had better uses for him elsewhere. "T-Thank you, but I do not intend to be a doe for any hunters. Are the people here more... I do not know how to phrase it. Friendly? Are people more friendly here?"
Oh boy. He was just digging himself further with this lad, wasn’t he? Letting out a sigh, Sayvahn listened to the boy’s words, only half interested. At least, until the war bit. Then he perked up. “Things were already going downhill. War just sped up the inevitable in Lodan. The people are overall just that, people. For me to accurately label them is to label everyone who comes and goes through here, which, these days, I suppose is not as much.” Pushing his glasses up, he pondered on the thought. “I suppose people are generally friendly, but only if you give them reason to be.” Staring a little harder at the back of Syd’s neck, Sayvahn sighed, putting his clippers down to lean against the mirrored table.
“You can probably take care of yourself just fine. But that’s not what I’m talking about. You are new, and that is obvious. In this town, certain people will inquire, will prod. For example, your arms.” Sayvahn pointed to the sleeves, and how they attempted to hide the tattoos but it was easy to see them lurking, especially since the blasted boy kept moving so much. “People will ask. But are they friendly? Yes. And I know enough about Ronuva to know not to walk out on the streets alone at night. But, if a soldier catches you here, at night, you will get in trouble. And furthermore, if they are susiciopus of you, they will ask you question. Thus, you must not act suspicious. And being nervous for no reason is a good reason to be suspicious. There is a difference between being cautious and terrified. Second.” Sayvahn’s eyes softened a bit then. “Despite the war, it is much safer here. So don’t worry about that.” Though he couldn't guarantee that for long. Especially with Castamere. Standing, Sayvahn went to the table and poured himself a drink. “So, coffee?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Syd Croswell-Miklos on Jan 11, 2016 8:31:23 GMT
He supposed Sayvahn's words about people were very much fair though seeing how the man stared at his neck in the mirror made his shoulders grow slightly tense. The sudden change of topics to his arms made him blink in surprise and immediately try to tug his sleeves down but it was too late. The other had seen. For half a minute he seemed to hold his breath while studying the other but the question never came to see the ink and with minor relief he released his held breath. Night was the most terrifying thing in Ronuvia and likely the stem of all his fears. Packs of stray dogs roamed at night and tore people limb from limb. Thugs wandered the streets and did awful things to women and sometimes men. Murders were not uncommon. He would not go out at night. He refused. It made his heart beat disgustingly quick at even the thought, and now he sat there in the chair struggling to breathe due to the tightness in his chest. Other words pulled him from his frozen stupor and he blinked at Sayvahn. "S-Sorry?" The words were more of a whisper, really, then with a small swallow to help his suddenly dry throat, he spoke up, "c-coffee sounds nice," followed by a small nod. "H-how much do I owe you...?"