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
Bruises were turning green, the scratches, scabbing. Sayvahn’s arms still burned, still hurt, but they had been healed long ago. But the pain, it lingered, etched into his pores that not even magic could erase, it seemed. And each day, Corey pointed out a new bruise. A new faint mark, overlooked and unattended. Sayvahn cursed. Drank and smoked his way until every last blasted trace of that day disappeared from his body. And it was easy, most nights. But on some nights, the emotions crawled their way out of his stomach and roosted in his brain, reminding him of explosions, of blood, black and red, smearing everything. Sometimes he would laugh. Other times, he stared into the fire, wondering when it too, would explode as the Sveden invasion neared.
On such a night when the fire spoke, when the feelings crawled from his abdomen, digging into his bones, Sayvahn took to be away from home. In a bar, where it was easy to get lost, and often times, where it was hard to be found. At least, that is what he thought to himself, ducking below eaves as he went down into the bar's lower levels. Although not close to his heart, he was found of the place.
It was a frequent under the radar hub for people who wanted to be alone, but still wanted company. And it was small, dark, and a nice level of loud, where one could hear ones thoughts if so desired. Plus, it was a great place to pick up a partner for the night, and sometimes, even for the morning, but nothing ever more then that. Plus, the bartenders were generally attractive, and the liquor, pretty good, which frankly, is all that mattered to Sayvahn.
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 4:54:47 GMT
Lasair was already in the bar when Sayvahn entered, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He sat at the bar counter, bringing the bottle to his lips from time to time. His eyes looked tired, his mouth was down in a frown, and his body was tense as it faced the bar. He didn’t glace as the man entered the bar. His thoughts were keeping him plenty of company. Not that it was good company, but still. None of the other patrons were near him, recognizing that the man was silently asking for space. The bottle rose up to his lips again as more of the liquid entered his throat. It helped dull the pain, but only slightly.
Emerald green eyes caught the familiar shade of orange red, even in the flickering light of the bar. Others avoided him, sensing the melancholy air that he carried, too heavy for their tastes, for anyone tastes, really. Lasair was asking for space, and normally Sayvahn was more then happy to oblige. But that night, he didn’t feel like it. He knew by then that the man’s parents had died that day in Castamere, part of the unfortunate souls who had been crushed by church’s grace. To this day, he still couldn’t believe it. Someone out there had a sense of humor, it seemed. A dark one at that, one that thought it was time to take divine retribution to quite a literal level.
Taking a seat next to the man, Sayvahn rested his elbow on the counter, staring at the assortment of wine and beer on the opposing wall as opposed to Lasair.. “My,” He hummed. “If I knew you were going to be here, I would have put on a more suitable attire.” Perhaps his lucky shoes. Or a dress. Either one probably would have been fine. “Tell me, why would a man attractive as you be moping here alone in a trash hole like this?”
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 8:02:53 GMT
Lasair hardly blinked at Sayvahn’s approach, swirling the bottle in his hand instead. At first he wasn’t going to answer the man, but then he remembered that he shouldn’t be rube. “Because he remembered he’s not the prettiest flower in the bouquet.” The bottle came up to his lips as he drank more of it down. He didn’t turn to face the other man, keeping his dull eyes forward and his head tilted down.
Calling the bartender over, Sayvahn ordered a drink, eyeing Lasair in question as the man drowned in his sorrows. “I would love to see that bouquet then. And possibly get their number.” The man was standoffish. Even witty humor was not going to cut deep enough into that core of self loathing, but maybe a little alcohol and some offered fun could help. “Want to have a change of scenery? It’s a shame to leave such an attractive flower hidden in the dark.” Even if the man declined, it wouldn’t matter to Sayvahn. It was more of wondering how inclined the other was to be social. Plus, knowing his guild leader was in a place he normally frequented himself, well, it did trouble Sayvahn a bit, but god help him if he let the other know about that.
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 10, 2016 9:12:08 GMT
Tapping his fingers on the counter, he thought over the offer. In reality, the bottle in his hands was the first of the night, so the drunkenness hadn’t even begun to hit him. But the other man didn’t need to know that. Sipping a bit more of the whiskey, he finally decided on an answer, which came after a long pause. “Depends on the scenery. I rather like the current one. Matches my blooming personality.” The pun was intentional, but he didn’t smile as he spoke it, didn’t laugh in the slightest. Things have changes since the past, this moment was one simple example of that. Sayvahn and him could have been good friends, flirting back and forth, but the chance for that fell when the church did. Lasair couldn’t deny the fact he was thankful to the other man for helping him that say, however. But that was only a small pool of thanks in an endless ocean of despair.
Although Lasair didn’t laugh, Sayvahn did. He chuckled, despite the somber tone and the meaning behind it, the words amused him. “Indeed. A flower can bloom here. But, perhaps not flourish.” He thanked the bar tender for the drink— but whatever it was, it was very small. Barely a few drops of a liquid. Hardly worth the effort, probably. But Sayvahn was pleased with the drink, and took out a vile from his vest, tapping some of the substance into the drink before taking a swig. Letting out a sigh, he hummed a “that hits the spot.” before turning to Lasair to continue his words. “I know a little garden that’s bound to help you grow.” Placing his money for the drink on the counter, he spun in his chair a bit to get a better look at the red headed man. “That, or maybe more like some of the items I have in my bag that can only be used in said garden.” Sayvahn purred, flashing the other a feline grin.
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 11, 2016 5:49:49 GMT
Lasair scoffed, glancing at the other man sideways without turning his head towards him. “This flower is actually a weed. Take it home and your garden could be ruined. Still sure you want to extend that invitation?” Another sip, one step closer to getting lost in the alcohol. But if the man really wanted to take him home, well, Lasair had no reason not to go. It’s not like anything bad could happen. At least, not anything worse than what’s already in his head.
How perfect. Flashing a velveteen smile, Sayvahn chuckled again. Instead of correcting Lasair, he thought it better to just continue on the little ploy they had between them. “My garden is filled with weeds, and would be more then happy to include one such as yourself.” Avoiding physical contact on then, he placed his hand on top of Lasair’s- but only to take a look at the bottle. It was cheap, and not as exquisite as the ones Sayvahn stored at home, even the kind that was easily bought. It was a plus that he created most of his own liquors anyway. “Plus, it has something a lot better then this.” Sayvahn mused, letting go of the bottle.
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 11, 2016 6:42:47 GMT
His eyebrows rose in slight surprise as the other man grasped his hand, but he didn’t speak up against it, or make him release. The hand didn’t stop him from bringing the bottle back to his mouth, however, as he downed the remainder of the liquid. Setting the bottle down, he released his hand from the bottle and finally turned to face the other man. “Alright. I’ll bite. This weed will travel with you for a bit. See if it can find a nice place to root for a while.” Sliding down from his seat, he straightened out his clothes and waited to see where he other would lead him.
With the movement of the other, Sayvahn paid his dues, following the other. “My, if I knew you bit, I would have brought protection.” He mused, placing a hand on the man’s lower back. “Now, do I have to be a bother and lead you out like a worried nanny, or can I have a rough estimate of how much of that foul drink you have in your stomach?” Sayvahn inquired, guiding Lasair back up the stairs and into oncoming night. Yet, the night had already begun to take it’s hold, setting earlier and earlier with the day. But still, at one point the guards would lurk, and that was never a fun time to be out on the street, at least, not alone. “Come, don’t want to let your roots get too dry, now.”
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 11, 2016 8:19:34 GMT
Lasair was silent until they exited the building, taking a deep breath of the fresh outdoor air before he answered. The hand on his lower back was ignored, although the contact was somewhat appreciated. “The one you saw was all I got through before you walked up and dragged me off,” he said at last, sucking down more of the air, but it was through his teeth this time, causing an odd sort of sound. “I like the cold,” he said, somewhat out of place. But he didn’t care. It crossed his mind so he spoke it.
Listening to Lasair’s words, Sayvahn shrugged. “Good. That means I can still save you yet, else be poisoned by an ill crafted brew.” He spoke harsh words but the bar wasn’t all that bad. The brew could be better, but frankly, he spoke that way in regards to all bars. Perhaps it was because he got so used to his own concoctions that any others could no longer do the trick for him. The cold breeze, although appreciated by Lasair was not as welcomed by Sayvahn.
“Hm, I like the cold as long as I have a warm fire to light my side.” Glancing at Lasair, he rolled his eyes at the unintentional irony of the statement. “I guess until we get to my house, I’ll have to settle for you then, hmm?” He lightly joked, resting his arm a bit. The other didn’t bat it away, and so Sayvahn felt alright with keeping it there. Winding his way from the peasants hovel into the district, Sayvahn tried to take the quickest route, but even that would still take some time. So, he figured he might as well say something, and start a conversation in the best way that he knew how to. Which was either being blunt, or being a jackass, or being both. He could only go on for so long without the other’s self hatred, and might as well address it before they got to his rather than being awkward in it. “So, I’m guessing the death of your parents is still hitting you pretty hard, eh?” He stated, staring ahead, not bothering to look at Lasair.
“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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 12, 2016 4:07:16 GMT
Lasair faltered in his step a little upon hearing the question. The other might think he had tripped, but it was more a pause, a stutter as he was slapped in the face with the question. But he recovered in an instant, walking on as if nothing had happened. His face was stone, expressionless. As he breathed out, the breath could be seen in wispy vapor in front of him.
Sayvahn had known the answer. It was obvious, hanging from Lasair’s shoulder’s like a fox’s winter’s coat, but far to thick for the fire fox. Any deeper, any thicker, and Lasair would just set himself on fire, burning himself and any around him to the ground. Although Sayvahn may not be one to help, to extinguish the flame, he could at least help keep the embers down. He noticed the trip. Paid it no mind, but held tightly onto Lasair’s waist, feeling the heat emanate from his palm into Lasair.
“Tis a shame. Would have loved to meet them. Both must have been gorgeous to span you.” The mist emanated from his own lips, and it made him smile lightly. Funny how something so innocent like a breath could warn the body of the cold, to huddle with loved ones and neighbors for warmth. Though, low chance he was going to do that with Lasair. At least, not until both of them had had too much to drink and needed to cuddle or else die from hypothermia. Sayvahn returned his eyes to the road in front of them. "Mind telling me about them?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
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