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
The docks were open, filled with life, flooding with all sorts of things, from cargo, to people, even to the odd smell of sea mixed with sweat. It wasn’t Sayvahn’s usual resting ground, but, alas, sometimes you had to go to the source of things to get what you wanted. And what the feline wanted was to find someone willing to supply a little “nudge nudge wink wink.” Though, that was proving a little harder than he first thought. Apparently his old source had skipped town, and that, that left the dancer quite annoyed. Though, as always, he found someone. Just, one that proved to be worse for wear.
“Oi, you swindled me. I asked for a gram.”
“And you got a gram.” The younger boy scoffed, spitting into the gutter beside them.
“I know a gram when I see one, dearie. This isn’t a gram.” Holding out the bag, he urged for the other to continue filling it. “Now, give me what I asked for or I’ll take my business elsewhere.” The older man hummed, flourishing his hand just as the boy reached into his pocket, taking out a knife.
"Ya sure about that old man?” The boy asked with a broken smile. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt or nothing.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Slowly Levi drags himself through the cobblestone streets, the docks breaching off of them to his left, buildings of short stature to his right. He keeps his head down, his cap blocking the sunrays coming down from ol' yellar out of his already glowing eyes. His foot steps make soft thumps as he trudges along, turning into the shadows of a building with a board hung up
"BLACKCAT PUB"
Heh, how coincidental. Levi looks up and stops for a moment, two figures in his way, one a bit older and the other the opposite. "Come now, scram kiddos. Y'all in my way." He says as he shoulders past Sayvahan, stopped by the youngster holding something. The boy slides his finger up and the knife pops out the top, switchblade style, the blade protruding only about three inches. Levi reels back for a second before sliding his hand down to his waist and forward, pulling his butterfly knife. He whips it in a few directions, enough to show off a flash of steel before holding the blade towards the boy. "Mine's bigger." and it was.
Well, this day was becoming more and more impractical it seemed. Raising a brow, Sayvahn stared at the boy’s display, a knife, glinting in the light of the evening’s grace. If that was the worse thing the dancer had to face that day, it would make Sayvahn a lucky cat. But, even before the feline could react to the pleasantry, a man passed by them, or well, did until he too, stopped, and this one was also fairly well decorated. From emerald eyes to the silver in his cheeks, to at last, the knife, flipping about in his hands, the new arrival promised something that Sayvahn had not had that day— fun. “Hmmm, this is interesting. If I knew this was going to be a pissing contest, I would have brought my grenades.” The older man sighed, stepping back some. “And dear, a butterfly is not something you should be proud of, but alas, I leave that to your own judgment. After all, dearie," Sayvahn continued, turning to the boy. "I think you owe me the remainder of my goods. Or at least, putting that knife away before our guest becomes a bit, well, you know. Trigger happy.” The older feline laughed, magic, lacing on his fingertips just in case the boy did not put the knife away, or, well, tried to run away. The perks of telekinesis, after all. Ripping things from other people’s hands. Preferably weapons, but, money and drugs probably wouldn’t be a first either.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Catboy looks over at the gentlemen. Grenades? Whatever. The youngster aims his blade back and forth between the two men, his eyes dashing quickly about. Levi spins his blade around his index finger, flicking it up into a vertical spin on his middle, and then another horizontal spin on his thumb before it makes it way back to his palm. He uses his knife to point at the bag of drugs and says. "Give the nice man his materials before you get hurt. Or don't. I don't care." Levi smiles and flicks his blade down and about, only for it to be closed upon returning. He pushes the kid on his shoulder as he walks past him, causing him to drop his knife. The boy scrambles to pick up his weapon and drops the bag during it. "You are gonna get really, REALLY hurt!" Levi calls out, about 5 yards behind them as bends over to grab the handles on a cellar door. The kid runs past Sayv, bumping him with his shoulder as he leaves his stuff on the ground.
"Coming?" The boy purrs, as he heaves the heavy wooden doors open, unleashing a clashing sound of voices and silverware. Sounds like a party is going on.
With a raised brow, Sayvahn smiled upon the fellow. My my, how interesting, the feline mused before his eyes meet the young boys, remembering his face and making note not to buy from him ever again. Though, memorization means little when one is so easily distracted. The blade danced in the pierced man’s hand, as if the metal was hungry for his touch, and it made Sayvahn hum slightly, amusement laced in his features as the stranger told the boy to scram, even going so far as to call Sayvahn a nice man. Well, not wrong, hopefully, but still an interesting assumption to make. Especially in the way that the man carried himself, like a prince, lofting about the harbor back into the crevices he called home. It had been a while since the older man had met a person like that, and with a grin, Sayvahn bent over, picking up bag before following the peirced stranger to the cellar door, tucking the contents into his vest. “My, isn’t it too early for that?” Sayvahn purred, tapping Levi on the cheek, hands, flourishing slightly as he snaked his way into the cellar door, his own laugher being drowned by the party inside. It was unmarked territory— which always promised something interesting— that the night was going to be a crazy one, and lord knows that Sayvahn had yet to have that in a while— especially one where there wasn’t a safe word attached to it. “So, who happens to be my knight in shining piercings, hmmm?” The dancer inquired, taking a side step to let the so called “knight” continue his way down the cellar’s path.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Levi recoils a bit in a moment of what in the heck. He looks at the man and continues down the steps without a saying a word. Catboy pushes past the burly men in the basement, which was crowded by people, smoke, and liquor. A few guys call out to him, "'Ayyy Levi!!" and a few girls turn around as he passes. "Ohhh Levi, where have you been baby?" Levi returns a comment in the form of a shrug before he turns around at the end of his walk, falling effortlessly into a boothesq couch. He picks his combat boots up and sets them on the arm across from him, tow to heel style. "You still wanna ask my name, Blondie?"
Walking through the bar is thoughtless. It is asking to the nights around the fire, where people would dance and chant, in line with each other until at last, the drinks would be gone and the sands would be too cool, ushering people back into the comfort of their tent. Sayvahn caught the name. Allowed it to linger as he stepped forward to the couch, where the younger man had already set up his perch. “Your name precedes you, I see.” Sayvahn stated, leaning against the couch. “Since no one has stabbed you yet, I guess it’s a pretty decent precedent.” The older man hummed, looking over the scene.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Levi waves his hand in the air, partially do to the smoke but mostly to wave away any stabbing worries. "Nobody barks at the dog that ain't chained." Levi says with a keen smile. He knows his throne, and he wears it well. "Besides, everyone down here is pretty much mine, or atleast, I like to think so. Most do what I ask, out of fear or out of lust."
Raising a brow, Sayvahn crosses his arms, tempted to bring out his own cigarettes to add to the smoke. He thinks better of it. “Chains? Lust? More and more this sounds like a sex dungeon instead of a bar, I hope you do realize that.” The older man laughs, settling down some. “So. Where is your chain then? Aside from in your face, dearie?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Levi shrugs softly, in a very uncaring way. "She's around. Buh'she knows I ain't nothing to worry 'bout. Not anymore." He grabs a drink off the table and takes a quick swig. "Wha' about you? What keeps you around here?" Or well, why are you still in my face, rather.
The older man let out a grunt at that. “You don’t seem like the type to stick to one individual. But, I was never a good judge of character,” Sayvahn confessed. “As to why I’m here, I’m looking to pick up some wares. The relaxing kind, if you catch my drift. I was recently busted for mine and lost my whole stash.” Busted, really, was not the appropriate term. Though, he could not think of a better one to describe how his nearly adopted son went on a tantrum and burned his garden and home nearly to the ground. There was so much, too. What a shame. He wondered how Corey was doing, but that kind of thinking was better left to when he was on the drug, as opposed to off. “You wouldn’t happen to know a descent guy, would you?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Shoutbox
Welcome to the Shoutbox - If You Have Discord, Ask to Join the Discord Server