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 lifting of martial law made Sayvahn’s life easier. It meant that business could be held, and also, taken, much later in the night, with no repercussion of curfew. Although, he had to be careful none the less. Although not a wanted criminal like Skye Faolan, any run in with EIRAL would spell trouble. After all. Tax evasion wasn’t as fun as treason, as it were.
Still, the wanted man didn’t really linger much in Sayvahn’s thoughts. It was just a case that appeared, a picture, smudged in a newspaper. The older man would have forgotten the figure, if not for the lifting of the curfew that had become more than mere routine. Still, it was a shame. While the feline's life may be getting a little easier, what a shame for the outlaw. After all, hiding for forever and then some with a different name was easier without your picture being plastered everywhere. But alas. That was the taste of treason, or whatever the fellow was convicted of. Still, what a shame. Lowering his eyes, Sayvahn raised his drink, toasting the air as he muttered.
“Cheers to the lifting, and may that man still be able to party like there is no tomorrow.” Taking a swig, the older man sighed, leaning back some as his fingers drummed the counter. The lifting of the law also meant later gigs— whether that was a blessing or a curse, Aida would soon find out, he guessed.
Just because the curfew had been lifted didn't mean it was any safer to be out at night. The EIRAL patrols were just as heavy, if not more so now that they couldn't just arrest everyone. Faolan had been trying to make his way towards the waterfront, but hadn't gotten any further than this bar. It was a hole in the wall, but one that the troops wouldn't give a second look. Hopefully.
Oh well, there were worse places to be stuck, might as well make the best of the situation. Saddling himself up to the bar, he gave the bartender a quick two finger salute before setting down some coin and flashing a smile. "Whiskey, strait," he said, ordering up his favorite adult beverage. Nothing better to warm the insides.
Fingers tapped the bar, drumming an unrecognizable melody. At least, until a fairly handsome stranger passed by. The figure caught his eye, and, with a velveteen smile, the elder man listened to the order. “Quite a drink you are ordering there, dear. Long day?” The feline hummed, swirling his hand a bit to make his own drink dance.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
"Always a long day," he replied, "but honestly just a simple drink for a simple man." He'd never met the older man before so approached the situation warily. There was still a bounty on his head, after all, for anyone who actually recognized who he was. The drastic alteration of the bullet tearing across his face had done wonders for masking his former self. Certainly he no longer looked like the clean cut career military man he'd been before.
Turning, Sayvahn chuckled some, fingers, running across the brim of his drink. “You don’t seem like a simple man. At least, not with that wound on your face. That seems like it has quite a story.” Leaning forward some, the elder man glanced at the eye patch, and the pink scar that raced across the man’s face, like a mask. How did he get that scar? By means of chance, or of running away? Industrial accident, or boyish fight? The though amused the feline, and he smiled. “… A story I would happily pay your drink to hear, you know.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Skye considered the older man. He seamed harmless enough, if not a bit strange. Obviously he couldn't tell the man he'd gotten the wound during an escape from the EIRAL dungeons, but a bit of the truth should be fine. Long as he kept it to the minimum. "Not much of a story I'm afraid, someone took issue with me and decided to try and shoot me. Luckily, or unluckily, they weren't a great shot."
Last Edit: Aug 15, 2016 16:36:36 GMT by Faolan Skye
Grunting, the older man adjusted himself some to look the stranger, his arm, leaning on the counter. “You’re going to need to give me more details than that dearie, if you want me to pay. What sort of scuffle? Over an agreement? Maybe a woman?” Sayvahn hummed, taking a drink from his previous glass. “Though, whatever it was for, hopefully it was worth it to have marked such a handsome face as yours.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
What was with the dearie business? It made him feel oddly uncomfortable. Free drink or no, he wasn't about to tell this stranger who he was, or that he got the scar from escaping the dungeons. A good lie was needed, and a good lie was always based on some truth. "Let's just say I decided on a change of career. My former employer was none to keen on that matter and tried to stop me. I'm sure the bullet was meant for my head. I never gave him a second change to rectify that error."
Raising a brow, Sayvahn chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “My, that is quite a tale. What did you do that made him so forward with his gun, hmmm? Hardly doubt you were a store clerk for your employer to raise a pistol upon such a face.” The elder feline inquired, taking another sip of his drink. “Especially since it seemed you were so quick to ‘deal’ with him as well.” The fellow gave off a soldier feel. The primness, very akin to the groups that loitered the streets, patrolling every alley as if it was a criminal in itself, though, this one seemed more relaxed. Retired, even. A retired soldier perhaps? But, what change of career would warrant a bullet to a head? A scoundrel perhaps? This seemed to becoming more and more interesting. “You wouldn’t happen to be dangerous,now, would you?” Sayvahn smiled, hand, poised in a contemplative gesture as the elder man leaned against it.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
"Oh, you misunderstand. I didn't "deal" with anyone. I'm no fighter. I got dragged out of there before the offended party could take a second shot." He took another sip of his drink. No sense allowing this fellow to think of him as some type of fighter. The further he could get away from his former self the better.
"You seem rather interested in my story, but what about your own? Might you be a dangerous person yourself?"
As the man labeled himself not a fighter, Sayvahn frowned somewhat. He thought that perhaps the opposite could be said. The stranger did carry a sort of air about him that spoke more in line with a fighting stance, but, not all books should be judged by their covers. Sayvahn was a walking epitome of that.
At the enquiry of his own dangerous preferences, Sayvahn laughed. “Well, you seem like an interesting fellow,” Sayvahn confessed. “And perhaps, I am a dangerous person. One can never tell, in these times.” Taking a drink as well, Sayvahn lowered his eyes, the vermilion orbs staring into the etching of the wooden bar. “To be honest, sir, I am a dancer.” Flourishing his hand, Sayvahn hummed, “The only thing I threaten are the hearts of my audience— or confused men at bar.” Sayvahn winked in just, a laugh, slowly following his words. “Though, lucky for the both of us you don’t seem to be the later.”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Skye turned his attention to the man, who apparently was not going to simply drift back down the bar. "Indeed, one can never tell in these times. After all," he gestured towards the wanted poster stuck to the wall, "that EIRAL chap turned out to be a serial killer. Of course, not too much of a leap given the violent nature of our military protectors." He raised his glass as if to salute the idea of that statement.
"So, a dancer you say, you must know Edel then. Lovely woman, she recently introduced me to doughnuts."
Glancing toward the poster, and then to the man next to him, Sayvahn hummed slightly, staring at the man. Hm, now that was strange. The two looked awfully alike. Though, this one’s hair was a bit unruly, and that marking. Still, not too bad. Not too far off. How interesting. “I wouldn’t say that, not fully,” Sayvahn muttered, leaning toward the man. “After all, don’t all men have some violent nature to them?” The feline purred before taking another swig. Though, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the mention of Edelweiss. “Yes, I know her. And goodness, really? You don’t seem like a doughnut kind. Or a murdering one either,” the feline admitted. “She actually introduced me to my current job, in fact.”
“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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