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
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 13, 2016 0:41:46 GMT
His eyes glued themselves to the road ahead of them. He wanted to say yes, he did mind. But, in an odd sort of way, he wanted to talk about them. The pain was painful yes, but it was also welcomed. It was almost as if drowning in it was becoming a new way of life.
“My father was the one with all the good looks. He was a general ander, after all. Mom was feline. They owned a jewelry shop and were members of Mingo’s. Dad was outgoing, good at talking to people, good at selling the jewelry, and he taught me how to talk to people as well as some flirting tips.” Lasair wanted to smile at that part, but his lips wouldn’t form the curve. “Mom made all the jewelry. She had a refreshing new design that most of the people liked. I mean, the people must have liked it. It was their business after all.” The stream of words ran dry, so he stopped talking.
Jewelry? At that, Sayvahn tilted his head. Hm, if only he had known sooner. He would have bought some of their wares— or perhaps he already had. It was unlikely, but not impossible. Listening, he nodded. “Yes. I think I would have loved to meet them.” Sayvahn started, blowing into the air, letting the cold take it. The wind rustled the fallen leaves amongst trash and dust, blowing it away, as if to guide them to their destination, so near now. “Sounds like you were quite a father’s boy.” But that wasn’t just it, was it. The connection, the loss? There was something more, and Sayvahn had an inclination about it. “What led them to Castamere?” Sayvahn inquired, moving his hand from Lasair’s lower back to the center of it, rising higher, a slow circle, never proceeding forward, but only to remind Lasair he was near, that he was there. “Did they want to get 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 Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 13, 2016 6:07:31 GMT
The compliments were nice. The questions were not.
He bit the inside of his cheek painfully hard to keep his composure. Why were they there? “They were there because of me.” That’s all he would say; all he could say. And it was true. His parents didn’t want to leave the city, it was their home. They were born here, fell in love here, built their life together here, had children here. But, they didn’t die here. And the only person to blame for that was Lasair.
Glancing at the firefox, Savyahn lowered his eyes. Not out of guilt, but mainly out of annoyance. “I see.” Sayvahn did not remove his grasp on the man, but instead leaned closer to the other, as if to make sure he did not run away. “And are you blaming yourself for that predicament? For their death?” He asked, just as they approached a small building, what appeared to be a store until Sayvahn reached into his pocket to grab a key. “Because if so.” He reached out, easily unlocking the door. “We’re going to need a lot more weed.”
“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 14, 2016 8:41:34 GMT
All the weed, liquor, opium, and every other substance in the world won’t change that. Is what he wanted to say back to Sayvahn, but he didn’t. He chewed on the inside of his mouth instead, dug his nails into his palms too. This guy was a guild mate; Lasair wouldn’t let himself mouth off to him for this reason.
After a moment, he asked instead, “So this is your place.” It sounded halfway between a question and a statement. “How long have you been here?” This actually was a question and it was meant to distract the other man, get him to change topics away from the general ander. Lasair didn’t want to talk about himself anymore.
Lasair shifted, and Savyahn glanced down at the man’s hands, at how Lasair dug his fingers into his palm, as if asking for blood. It seemed like Sayvahn had hit the nail right on the head. The feline ander sighed, leaning back some as he opened the door, advising the other to go inside. Part of him wanted to help uncurl those figures, to ease the man out of his misery, but that was going to take time, and even then, there were no guarantees.
“Ten years.” He answered blandly. Waiting for Lasair to come inside he continued. “Long enough for me to know when someone is trying to divert a conversation.” Emerald green eyes met the other’s, and Sayvahn tilted his head.
“I’m not going to preach, or going to convince you it isn’t your fault. Only you can decide that. But, I can be an ear. Or you can be mine. Either one. All I ask is that you just be blunt with me, because last thing I need is for you to be housing any more enigmatic negative feelings inside you. God, your negative energy is brining even my chipper bum down.” Scrunching his face in disgust, he leaned against the door, rubbing his arms for warmth as he motioned for the other to hurry the hell up so that they could get out of the blasted cold.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 15, 2016 15:34:48 GMT
His palms relaxed, slightly taken by surprise at the man’s annoying intuition. Usually it was only women who could figure those things out so well.
Lasair’s face hardened to a scowl, finding the man’s words somewhat hypocritical. “You want me to be direct? Then what was the point of the whole plant comparison back at the bar?” He glanced towards the door, feeling the need to leave, to run. That was one of the few ways he could handle his problems; by moving away from them. Adopting a sarcastic tone, the general ander continued. “My sincerest apologies, your Highness. I’ll escort my negative energies out of your place of residence.” Bowing to the other, as he stood up he turned back towards the door. The bar was more attractive than what this man had to offer now.
Well, it seemed like he dug a hole for himself this time. Sighing, Sayvahn rolled his eyes at the melodramatic attitude of the other. Though, perhaps it wasn’t melodramatic. The guy had lost his parents, after all, but still. Sassy anger could only be excused to a certain point, or at least held by yours truly and not the red head. Extending a hand, Sayvahn blocked the man’s path, but if Lasair ducked, he could easily avoid the arm. “I’m alright with flowery language. As you would say, I do not mind housing the weeds in my garden, but you can’t help me for caring about the roots, dear.” Loosening up on the arm, Sayvahn retracted it to lean on the doorframe. “What I mean by blunt is what you just did. Unleash your negative, and give me some sort of pathway to know what lines I can or can not cross. This way I can see what’s ticking inside of that fiery mane of yours.” Reaching into his bag, he searched for a different kind of “blunt”. “That, and also to know when I’ve been too much of a jackass. Like right now. I guess it’s time to step off my high horse and let the authority lie with my guild leader.” Lighting the blunt, Sayvahn sighed, before taking a drag, holding the smoke in before blowing it out. “You are welcome to leave. But I would love for you to come inside especially since we haven’t gotten better acquainted since our stroll in the woods. You know, the one where you left me in the cold for hours waiting for your dashing presence.” Taking another puff, the man held his breath longer this time. "I mean, don't get me wrong. The wait was worth it, but well, I did expect more from a certain fire fox." The other stated, flashing an amused 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 19, 2016 4:48:04 GMT
He stopped as Sayvahn raised his arm and listened to what the man had to say. Apparently accepting the words, Lasair scoffed and turned back around, glancing around the shop with a drained expression. “Alright. I’m here. What exactly were you waiting for?” he asked, taking a couple steps forward. The smell of the smoke brought back to the clocktower, and how he had been there with Viktor.
It made his mood slightly more sour, given that thoughts of the deceased man entered his mind now.
Pausing, Sayvahn lifted a hand, cupping it to his ear in an attempt to listen to something, only to scowl with no such luck. “Gosh. I thought there would be trumpets. Alright, now come come, let’s sit.” Sayvahn hummed, closing the door with its blasted draft to saunter his way into the living room. They took a hall to a large living room, with an opening at the end to lead into the kitchen. Furthest to the back was a large lump of pillows, with a couch against the western wall. Next to the couch, closest the front, was a vanity, with a mirror and all. A very nice beige color, with a hint of red. The room itself was colorful. Mulit-colored rug, various colored pillows, then a lower greenery along the opposite side, where shelves adjourned framed images of painted bodies and dancers. There were other trinkets there, too, of course, from Sayvahn’s travels. Sayvahn motioned for Lasair to sit anywhere. “What are you in the mood to drink? I have some older wines, and I have some foreign drinks as well. Or I can make whatever you want.” He hummed, removing his jacket and placing the blunt in an ash tray to die down a bit. "Perks of being picky. You learn how to make it on your own."
“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 19, 2016 7:09:11 GMT
Trumpets? That must be a strong blunt the other held. Lasair decided not to comment on this. Instead, he followed the other inside and glanced at all the visible things decorating the room. Colorful, but not exactly tasteful or matching. The ander expected more of the man.
Taking a seat on the cough, he shrugged. “I’ll take whatever you feel like sharing,” he decided, not wanting to overly trouble the other. Afterall, Sayvahn had wanted Lasair to come to his place. And now that he was here, he might as well keep taking care of him.
Apparently his joke on trumpets and royalty was not as well received as he hoped. Well, to be honest, the other was in a foul mood, sponsored by the glorious Savyahn no less, but mainly due to dead parents, but regardless. No need for Sayvahn to put himself down over a mourning man’s lack of humor . Pausing near the garden, Sayvahn tilted his head. He could tell that the other didn’t like his sense of “style”, which frankly, wasn’t Sayvahn’s “style”. He liked to match where it mattered, and although he was one for taste, his home was a reliquary of his travels, spanning from across the globe. To expect that they all match the carpets and the drapes was like asking for all regions to get together and pick a favorite color. But, he would not linger on that for too long. “I’m sharing quite a bit, dear. The whole purpose of me bringing you to my home is for you to be able to pick from any of my wares, of which includes me making something. If I wanted to be stingy, I would have left you in the bar. Besides, your my guest. Label me as nothing more but your humbled servant." Flourishing, Sayvahn gave the man a parital bow before stopping to look up at the other. "Plus, if I pick something, there is more than likely chance that you will not care for it.” Going into one of the drawers of the mirrored vanity, he pulled out a bottle, a reddish glass bottle, and handed it to Lasair. “Like this- this is what I normally drink. It’s made from a foreign flower, mixed with ginger and other ingredients. The ginger gives a kick that is almost bitter and leaves with a burn. You’re welcome to try it, if you so dare, but you might gag.” The feline ander mused, crossing his arms. The drink itself was quite sweet in the beginning, but that ginger, it could kill a man. But, it was almost meant to be coupled, but Sayvahn doubted the man wanted to try his strawberry herbal blunts. But who knows. Surprises could lurk in every corner.
“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 22, 2016 3:53:30 GMT
Taking the bottle from the man, he looked it over a few times and then pulled the cork out, letting the smell waft up towards his nose as he took a small sniff of it. The scent of ginger was stronger than the alcohol, as if this were ginger juice rather than any other beverage. But there were hints of the other ingredients there too, specifically the floral aspect. “I’ll try almost anything once,” he stated, then tipped the bottle to his lips and took a small sip of it. He let the drink fall under his tongue; a trick he learned long ago to minimize the taste from it, but when he swallowed it, the kick was there. Had he let the drink slide over his tongue fully, he probably could have coughed or gagged, but instead it went down without much issue.
“Not bad. Would be good mixed with something that compliments the ginger without totally masking it.” He handed the bottle back to Sayvahn, waiting to see what he’d pull out next.
Tilting his head, Sayvahn smiled at the other, taking the drink back slowly. Try anything once, eh? Did that only apply to drinks? Perhaps he would ask the man, eventually. Maybe not then, but still. Laughing, Sayvahn nodded.
“Well, there is meant to be a compliment, but they’re blunts— my own mixture that I whipped up. Don’t know if you would like them, but I’ll take them out, if you so desire to try that as well. If not, then.” Walking over to the garden, Sayvahn crouched down, and opened the drawers. Inside were various drinks and an assortment of drug paraphernalia. Taking out two bottles, two glasses, and a blunt, he got up and returned to the couch, placing the objects on the coffee table.
“Here, we have a pomegranate based drink, with a hint of mint. The other is a wine from my home country.” Sayvahn sighed, taking a seat next to the man. He rested his arm against the headrest of the furniture, turning to look at the redheaded guild leader. He inspected him. His weary state, and those piercings. Specifically the one in his lip. Golden against pink curves. Sayvahn had to admit, especially in the flickering lights of the red lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the fire fox looked more attractive then usual, which perhaps wasn’t that difficult. Still, Sayvahn watched him with attentive eyes.
“So, Lasair. This trying anything once. How far does that extend, exactly?” Sayvahn inquired, pouring himself a glass of the ginger wine. It wasn’t an advance, on the contrary, it was just an amused expression, coupled with a sly velveteen grin. "Only to drinks and drugs or...?"
“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 22, 2016 7:34:33 GMT
A drink and blunt combination? That was something new, as well as something probably worth trying. He was still thinking if over when Sayvahn asked him the question, which was met initially with a heavy scoff from the other. “It applies to whatever I feel like it applies to. But in your case, it probably is just drinks and drugs.”
He turned his eyes to the objects on the table then. “Two bottles? Do tell, which one matches what? Or am I forced to play a guessing game?” he asked, slowly feeling less and less like he actually wanted the drinks. But, he reminded himself why he was here, and also reminded himself that he should stop caring so much about the random substances shoved in front of him.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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