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
Defensive, just like the other night. However, this time, there was no alcohol to hide behind. Though, it seemed that the fox was making up for it with another excuse, with another attempt to flee. Sayvahn wouldn’t stop him, but the feline would continue to speak, Lasair’s annoyance, his quip , flaming the feline’s own.
“What do you get out of blaming yourself for them? Not closure, I assure you, dear. You can try to run away, but their dead, Lasair. You can stay up, can avoid facing them, but frankly, they don’t care how they died. Only you do.” Savyahn spat, holding onto his wound. His place was being overstepped. Sayvahn knew it. Accepted it. Accepted it like the way he accepted the fact that Lasair wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t care about him. Wouldn’t care for him. Because that’s what Savyahn wanted. For Lasair to care. Don’t make me just another member, the feline wanted to say. Don’t make me some sort of worthless pawn. If anything, he wanted to be a knight. A knight, to protect his king.
“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 Mar 23, 2016 4:35:08 GMT
He made no move to step away once Sayavhn continued talking. So that’s how it would be then.
“Someone has to care about them. You really insist on pushing me for answers to these questions? Are you sure you want the answers? Why do you care so much? Is it because I’m the guild leader? Are you trying to figure out what makes me tick so that you can replace me?” As much as he didn’t want that answer to be true, it was the most likely one to cross through his mind. Because surely he wasn’t asking because he cared; why would someone care about this red haired ander? Perhaps this reflected in his eyes. Perhaps it didn’t. Lasair couldn’t be sure either way.
“My reasons are valid, I assure you of that. Do you need the other details?” he asked after a moment. There really wasn’t any other way to handle this situation. It’s not like he particularly enjoyed this topic of conversation.
Lasair didn’t retreat. No, the fox stood his ground, and most of all, he fought back. “I want the answers.” Sayvahn stated, furrowing his brow, knowing he was pushing the other over the edge, but it was an edge he had to address. Both had been clinging to it for far too long. Pressing his wound, the feline hoped the physical pain would calm the emotional one.
“But what I don’t want is to be guild leader. I don’t want to be anything but yours, Lasair.” He said it now; there was no turning back. “Whether that is as your servant, or friend, or…….” Sayvahn’s voice trailed as he pulled his hand away, to relieve a little of the pressure, of the pain. His palm was wet. “Lasair,” The barber’s voice was softer now, “I care for you. Especially when it seems like you don’t care for yourself. That’s why I want to know what makes you “tick” as you say, because if I don’t, then who will when you push them away, when you avoid the blasted question?” Sayvahn mocked the other, as the redhead had done to him. “I want to care for you. I want to be there for you. So yes, I want the answers. I want the details. I want…..” Looking away, Sayvahn stared at the ground, hoping that he could find the warmth he desired there, instead of the man before him. “I want you to be happy, 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 Mar 23, 2016 5:54:42 GMT
Sayvahn’s words left Lasair speechless for a few moments, his face painted with surprise while his mind turned over, trying to understand what his ears had just reported. Sayvahn, really? Of all people? It certainly wasn’t something he was expecting, and it took him a while to understand it.
Eventually, he pulled the chair away from the desk and sat down, facing the other in the room. The candlelight seemed so tiny in this room, but it would have to be enough, at least for now. So it seemed that Sayvahn’s intentions were pure, it was a relief in its own way. “Happy is not something I can be right now. That’s a fact; it’s not debatable. But you want the answers? Alright, I’ll share them with you under the assumption that they won’t be leaving this room.” He paused, swallowing before continuing. “I don’t blame myself, as you put it. I am responsible for the deaths of the four people written on my back. I accept that fact and I take responsibility for it. These four people are no longer living because of me. My brother, Averus, was the first. And then Viktor. And then my parents. That will never change. They’re gone forever because of me.”
Now it seemed that the general ander was avoiding an entirely new topic in favor of facing the previous one. Curious on how his priorities fell. “Do you want to know more? If there was ever a night to ask, it would be tonight. So by all means, go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide. Want to know how they died? Or how they’ve risen in my nightmares? Just ask.” He bit his lower lip for a moment, enjoying the small bit of pain it brought for the smallest of moments. He was in an interesting state at the moment and there wasn’t any turning back now.
Frankly, many things would not be leaving the room, if Sayvahn had his way. The redhead was taking his confession, as he should, maturely. If it could even be called that. The confession was not an exact proclamation of love. Sayvahn couldn’t confirm or deny the feeling to himself let alone the redhead— but it was the truth. And so, Sayvahn was not one to be flustered in this situation. If anything, he was more flustered, more cautious of how the fox would react to telling him of his woes. And so, the feline listened, nodding in the silent promise of secrets withheld.
And as Sayvahn listened he felt as though he understood, if not, a little more about the guild leader. And understood, if not equally, if not painfully, that Lasair was secretly denying him. It wasn’t something unexpected, and so, the pain in Sayvahn’s stomach, rising to his chest, was minimal, was withheld. Yet it still hurt, ever so slightly. How funny, the idea of it all.
“Hmmm, then if you can not be happy, then at least I won’t let you be alone.” Sayvahn laughed, bending forward ever so lightly. The warmth of the candle did nothing for him. The barber’s body was cold, but he refused to let the warmth seep into him. “So, you’re responsible. We are all responsible for many things. By your logic, I’m responsible for the death of my sister.” And perhaps he was. Sayvahn lowered his eyes, and laughed lightly, but it was dry. “Perhaps I’m even responsible for her rape, as well. Who knows. But what I do know is that I don’t care about how they died, or how they rose. What I do care about it, is you.” Tilting his head, the older man smiled upon the younger one. “How did you feel when they died? What about it do you blame yourself for? And what can you not achieve in your dreams that you awake, screaming?” Sayvahn asked, staring at the other, at how the candle flickered against Lasair’s body, exposing him, and the emotions, underneath. "I want to know more about you, 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 Mar 23, 2016 6:37:54 GMT
It was nice hearing that someone wanted to know more about him, that someone cared about him. He didn’t know how to react to it, how to take it, so in the mean time while the back of his brain worked on that, he had different questions to address.
“I felt sad and upset, naturally. I didn’t want to admit to myself that they were really gone, but the facts were there, staring me in the face. And while feeling sad, in pain even, I realized that the only person to cause these feelings were myself. I was supposed to protect my bother, but I didn’t. I couldn’t protect Viktor from a Sveden ambush, even though there were only three of them there. And it was me who pushed my parents to get on that train, to go to Castamere in the first place. They didn’t want to go, but I made them, I brought them to that accursed place. And my nightmares? They simply mock me and my weakness; my inability to save them from that which I had caused. My dreams give me a front row seat to their deaths, reminding me again and again of what I had caused, who I have lost.”
His eyes were beginning to water, tearing threatening to leave their little corner. He lifted a hand and wiped them before the bits of water could fall.
It was hard to listen. Not out of pity, no, but more of annoyance. Sayvahn wanted to say it wasn’t his fault, but the fox had already accepted that it was. Shrugging, the barber got up, teetering slightly at the wound in his side burned, his breath, haggard. Walking over, he patted Lasair’s shoulder, reaching toward the dresser for a clean bandage or anything else to give to the general to help blot away the tears.
“Hm, I see.” Sayvahn stated, tilting his head some to ponder the words. “It’s strange though, that you feel upset about yourself, rather than who killed actually killed them. Two of the times, it seems that Sveden was the cause. Now tell me, are you a Sveden spy, dearie?” Emerald eyes scanned the redhead quizzically, only to move away as Sayvahn tsked.
“No, it appears not. Then, as an outsider in all of this, I do not see how you are responsible. I can understand your sadness, and why you are upset, but where is the anger? Perhaps you see their deaths over and over because you are missing the bigger picture. You can blame yourself. I’m not denying or confirming that you should.” Tilting Lasair’s head up, the feline stared into the general’s eyes. “But, did you fire the mortar that took down the church pyre? Or place the weapon in the hands of the soldiers who killed your beloved? I think not. So maybe, instead of mourning, instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you should do something about it— and maybe then, you won’t be a spectator, and you won’t let the people you love die, whether it be in real life, or your dreams.”
“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 Mar 23, 2016 7:14:33 GMT
“Even if I single-handedly conquer Sveden while also eliminating every shadow beast in this dam forest, it won’t change the fact that their deaths are mine to bear. I may not have ended the life, but I was the one that brought the life there to be ended.” He pulled his head out of Sayvahn’s hand. What the feline said, Lasair could see it coming, he knew that anyone would say the same thing had he explained things. That’s why he didn’t want to explain things. He felt anger rising in his chest, not because of the words Sayvahn said, but because he had done exactly what Lasair expected, which was say the things he didn’t want to hear.
Anger was not an emotion Lasair enjoyed sharing, it was a feeling better kept to himself. And if Sayvahn continued to call up the feeling, then Lasair would have to leave his company. There simply wasn’t any other choice.
The fox batted him away, but Sayvahn pressed forward, but gently. “I know. I know. I’m just saying, don’t be afraid to acknowledge your anger. Even if it’s toward me.” Although he rather it not. Sayvahn had seen the man’s anger— had seen it come full force when the redhead had punished Lady Grey. Yet, it seemed like the appropriate thing to say, because, maybe in anger, Lasair would tell him more, would open up to him more. But now, now was not the time to push, it was time to draw back. “Just. Don’t suffocate yourself. They may be dead, but you, their lover, their son, their brother, and as you so desire, their murderer, are not. Don’t be afraid to live.” Pulling away, Sayvahn rolled his head to the side, looking toward the candle. “And not just for the guild sake. The reason why we follow you is not just because you are our leader, but because it is you, Lasair.” Sayvahn stated, holding his wound, not bothering to touch Lasair again. The fox would only push him away again, as he had been doing. Had always been doing. Thinking otherwise, thinking that their could be an otherwise, had been foolish. “So don’t lose track of yourself, alright?”
“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 Mar 23, 2016 8:05:07 GMT
Sayvahn’s retreat also meant the retreat of Lasair’s anger, although it was not immediately gone, it was not growing as it had a moment ago. He reached down and picked up his shirt from where it had been discarded along the wall and then stood up, taking a few steps to the doorway as he put the garment on. “They follow me because I’m the only one telling them what to do,” he said in an empty tone. It felt true; only a handful of his members seemed to exert any sort of loyalty. Sayvahn was one of them, Howl and Fawna another couple, but Ratna? Vieka? They were only here because it benefited them. And for the twins, well, he still wasn’t sure why they came around.
Before Sayvahn could reply, he pushed open the door and stepped through. “I need some air,” he said over his shoulder and began heading down the hall, not bothering to close the door behind him. There was a new sort of pain budding in his chest, one that the anger quickly latched on to and reveled in. It was the pain of being a leader that felt he was unfit to lead.
Boundaries had been too far overstepped. Saayvhn understood that. Understood as Lasair picked up his shirt. The feline closed his eyes. Listened to the words, to the shuffling of retreating feet, to the breath that no longer lingered. And he sighed. Blast it, blast it blast it blast. Folding over, Sayvahn let his trembling body calm. When had he begun to tremble? When Lasair left? Was it adrenaline, or the pain, aching not only from his side, but his chest? How foolish he was. How foolish. Not only with Corey, but Lasair. If something had happened, MI was the best place to run to. And now? Sayvahn knew Lasair wouldn’t kick him out. No, not for this. But the feeling of emptiness lingered. What a pitiful emotion— pitiful in the fact that he had let someone so young seep into his heart. Maybe it was best to retract. But that also wasn’t something the feline would do. Sighing, he got up and approached the dresser, fishing out a shirt. They were similar in size, so it wasn’t hard to find something that fit. What didn’t fit was a slight smell, one that Sayvahn realized belonged to the redhead. The feline lingered on the scent, captured it, then put the shirt over his head, being careful not to stretch his stomach too much. Maybe if he limped fast enough, the barber could still catch up.
The emptiness of the corridor reminded Sayvahn of the reasons why he stayed away from the place. Yet, it worked in his favor as he listened for the echo of footsteps, distant, jumping from place to place, but he followed the slow steps with his own quickened ones. At one point, he would be able to meet the man, if fate so allowed it. And it seemed they had.
The redhead was halfway up the staircase, to the roof, and Sayvahn watched his back, now covered, rising higher and higher. “Lasair.” Sayvahn called out, out of breath and dizzy. Leaning against the wall, Sayvahn resisted the urge to slide down it. Red dabbed at his bandages, only partially covered by the shirt. The barber figured it was best not to ruin the fabric, but now, now he regretted it as the hall's chill nipped at his exposed abdomen. “You're trying to kill me, aren’t you?” The older man wheezed, pushing up his glasses as he stared at the redhead.
“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 Mar 23, 2016 8:56:49 GMT
Lasair was too lost in his own thoughts to notice the steps following him. His mind was turned inward, echoing the pains of the past and the words of the present. His anger was bubbling, wanting to erupt, but he battled to cool it, to turn it into something more manageable. Like sadness, he could deal with sadness. So he walked slowly, slowed his breathing, and forced himself to relax out of anger and into sadness. At least sadness was calm. It was preferred at this time. And while he did this he thought about things. Magic, the guild, Sayvahn, Edelweiss, his dreams, his nightmares, the past, the present, the future, and many things along the way.
Hearing his name brought his mind to a halt as he turned around, descending the steps to Sayvahn’s side. “You’re the one who followed me,” he said lightly, forcing a faux smile on his face. “Come on, we’re almost there,” he continued, pulling Sayvahn’s arm over his shoulder. But as he did so, he felt the fatigue coming from the other. The wound, it was really draining him it seemed, especially after chasing Lasair through the halls.
So after pausing a moment, Lasair bent down and slipped an arm behind the feline’s knees, and then stood up, pulling the other up into his arms with a light huff. Sayvahn didn’t weigh too much, but Lasair had to ascend the stairs slowly. “Am I the first one to sweep you off your feet?” he asked in a short breath a few steps up. Some lighter conversation would be welcome during the moments spent climbing the flight of stairs.
Looking over his glasses, Sayvahn tried to smile, but it was hard. Difficult, even, breathing ragged. Lasair took his arm, lifting him up, and the feline hissed, the pain, shooting through him. The warmth, otherwise welcome, was more painful than not.
“Don’t smile like that to me.” Sayvahn hissed, leaning against the man. “Don’t force yourself.” His voice trembled instead of his body. Yet, when the other disappeared from his grasp, Sayvahn felt like falling. Felt like crumbling. But again, warmth. Again, pressure.
The barber pressed his head against the man’s arm, fingers, laced into his shirt. Lasair had lifted him so easily. The man’s frame deceived him. “I wasn’t aware that you were both strong and handsome. Be careful, or I’ll fall for you even more.” The barber laughed, closing his eyes tightly as Lasair rocked back and forth, carrying him up the steps.
“And no. That would be Anemwei.” Sayvahn stated, answering the fox’s question. “He was the first man I ever loved, and perhaps the only.” Again, another dry laugh. “At least, the only one that will reciprocate my feelings, I suppose. Horrible habit, love is.” Horrible indeed. Yet, not bad. Not when it gave him this. “You still owe me a story, you know. From the other night.”
“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 Mar 23, 2016 10:42:00 GMT
Lasair wanted to reply to the answers given to him, but he would rather save his breath for when they got to the top of the steps. At the very least, Sayvahn’s voice had reduced the amount of time spent in a silence containing only Lasair’s breathing.
When they reached the top of the steps Lasair made no motion to put Sayvahn down. Instead, he gently pushed the door open with his shoulder and walked out onto the roof top, carrying Sayvahn to one of the raised walls before setting him down to sit on the ledge. Lasair sat next to him, keeping an arm around the other until they were both settled. Only then did it fall. “Perhaps he won’t be the only,” he said, feeling rather calm after expending the energy to carry the other. “I’m not going to lie to you, Sayvahn. I’m in a hard place. I don’t know if I feel the same. But I can assure you that it’s nice knowing someone cares, that someone wants to see me smile. It helps, in a way.” A smaller smile came to his face then, one that was not forced in the slightest.
He tilted his head upwards, looking at the all the stars gathered above him. The smog was thinner out here, away from the city. It made it easier to see all the lights above. Of course there weren’t as many as there would be if he left the city altogether, but it was still nice seeing just a few more than the average time. “What story would you like to hear?” he asked once the smile had faded from his face.
The feline sought comfort in the general’s arms. Felt the warmth permeate through fabric to touch him, to glide against his own shaking limbs. Pressing his face against Lasair’s shoulder, Sayvahn smiled as the younger man did not put him down, but continued to carry him. It was sweet. Maybe even bittersweet— perhaps laughable. But the contact didn’t break. Not even when Lasair placed him down, the cold nipping at the areas where warmth once lingered. Yet, the arm still lay against barber’s shoulder. But only for a moment, until it too, left Sayvahn’s side. Tilting his head, the barber smiled, laughing ever so slightly at Lasair’s words.
“Honey, don’t tempt an older man.” It was sweet, what Lasair was trying to do. But it wasn’t needed. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings. When you have lived through as much as I, you learn not to.” Sighing, Sayvahn leaned against his guild leader’s shoulder, not only for support, but the comfort of another by his side. It was bony, uncomfortable even, but not unwarranted. “I just wanted you know that people do care, sweetie. And I hardly doubt I’m the only one. You’re quite a looker, to say the least. But you are also strong. Nice personality. Amusing. The works.” Jade eyes scanned the darkened horizon, the moon, illuminating the quivering trees, afraid to dance now that they had an audience.
“Hmmm. What story indeed.” Closing his eyes, Sayvahn tried to match his own breathing with Lasair’s. “Perhaps a nice one. A joyful one, if you have any.” The feline hummed, the urge to hold Lasair’s hand, overpowering, but ignored, as was the pain, bubbling from his stomach.
“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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