SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

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March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Dropping In; with sabe!
    Topic Started: Mar 15 2014, 01:05 PM (478 Views)
    Baqi
    Member Avatar


    Shit, shit. Well. Shit.

    See, that wasn't supposed to happen. The whole getting caught business. Figures. The shifty guy had said so, many times, until he practically hissed under that cloak, but words didn't do shit, really, when you fumbled the lock pick and some off-duty guard happened to walk by. Damn it, damn it. So what? How was he supposed to predict that? He'd been looking over his shoulder the whole time, till the damn thing broke in the lock, and he had to jiggle it open. And then the damn man had shouted something. And before he knew it, he was running with a handful of shiny, glittery shit.

    And five other people were chasing him.

    Baqi hurtled down the street, stuffing his pockets deep with the stolen necklaces. They jostled and chimed annoyingly by his legs, making him wonder why the damn freak had wanted them, anyway. Not like you could eat 'em. And what was he gonna do, wear 'em? He supposed you could sell them for coins, but it wasn't like he needed much of that. Seemed a pain, really, but whatever. His bare feet moved in a blur across the cobblestones as he weaseled between people, exploding from the crowd and breaking off into a side street.

    "Halt!"

    How the hell had they caught up to him this fast? Some kind ghost guard or some shit? Baqi turned his wide, dark eyes over his shoulder, filling with rapid horror as a new group of guards broke through the throng. What? Was that all they did all day? Wait around, trying to find people to chase? The djinn's eyes flicked over to an alleyway, noting the jumble of stacked crates in them, and he sprinted in that direction.

    "Thief!"

    Some people stared in fascination as the man appeared to run directly for a dead end. A moment later, he leapt onto a crate and scrambled onto another, causing them to tumble beneath his feet. The djinn scrabbled at the wall, finding a loose sandstone, and hauled himself up to another stack of crates. He looked like some kind of deranged monkey, teeth grit, launching himself up and grabbing the flat roof of the building.

    "Stop, stop!"

    Yeah, cuz he was going to let go right this instant, give 'em the shiny stuff all easy, and be on his way, right? Grunting, the djinn hoisted himself out of the alleyway and onto the flat, dusty top of a building, looking over his shoulder. He spared a brief glance at the confused, glittering assortment of guards several feet below, then ran as fast as his skinny legs could take him. An amazed, relieved giggle almost left him as the wind whipped at his loose shirt, dust kicking up around his ankles -- until a crossbow bolt whizzed right by his ear. The color drained from the djinn's face, quite literally, until he had vanished in the sunlight, running head down and stifling a scream. The only evidence of his movement was the blooms of dust shooting up from invisible feet, and the panicked wet breathing coming from no identifiable source. The guards below yelped in surprise, turning into a confused jumble of shouts.

    Baqi winced, continuing to flee across the rooftops. A confused smattering of bolts came his way, but they clattered onto the sandstone, and he'd long ran past any guards, hearing some shouts of demon or trickster. I ain't a demon. They don't know shit about demons, the djinn thought to himself with a flare of annoyance, thinking on the things he'd seen in the deserts; things existed out there that made his skin crawl -- tales of impossible castles, with doors that led to nightmares, and snapped up djinn like a monster's maw; tales of rising dead and immortal legions that walked the sands. Shaking his head, Baqi suppressed a shudder, jumping across an alleyway. His legs hit the tile with a loud clatter, and the djinn nearly lost his balance, yelping-- a moment later the ceramic broke, and he kicked at air, screaming.

    "Shit!"

    Dust and tiles poured from the sudden hole, and he hit the ground with a grunt, coughing and covered in swirling sand. A blinding shaft of light cut the room, which was completely shuttered, furniture covered in white cloth; Baqi groaned and waved his hand, brushing plaster off his invisible body. The djinn squinted through the settling cloud of debris and tensed, feeling his heart leap to his throat. This some kind of abandoned building? Sure looked like it, what with the way everything was boarded up. Might be a good place to hide for a little while. The djinn crawled to his feet, shakily dusting himself off, and shook his head, ears ringing. What a shit day. A moment later, he flopped onto one of the covered seats, looking like a vague, dusty spectre made of motes and sand.
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    Sabellius
    Member Avatar
    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    Sunlight, cursed golden, bright and cheerful. Everything he was not.
    It was intrusive, and ever increasing light levels began to become increasingly painful until he could no longer set foot outside by mid morning, not even with his spectacles shading his tangerine eyes. They watered fitfully, turning his vision into a blurry mess, until he grew sick of constantly wiping at their corners to dispel the irritating tears that sprang forth every other second.

    His mother could not have been any other creature, really, to give him such a weakness, such a strength, he supposed. It didn't halt his grumbling however, and as the shadows shrank and the sun climbed, the half-breed was forced to take shelter in the safety of his own home. Better there than an inn, with eyes to watch and judge and bore into his back. Why was the Inquisitor weeping? Did he in fact have some compassion in his blackened soul, his shriveled heart bear remorse for the acts he performed on a daily basis?
    Gods no, couldn't let them think he was anything less than what he was. If they started thinking he had strong morals about things then the next step would be on his face, walking all over him, using him for a welcome mat.

    The house was nondescript, set slightly apart with a break between houses, all the shutters snapped tight to the frames. It was a good size for a growing family, though he was the only one who lived there now. Just him, and his ghosts.
    It took several tries to get the key into the lock, Sabe grinding his teeth and ducking his head against the foul brightness all the while. If he'd known it would be so painful, he probably would have stayed underground, as awful as the notion now seemed. The metal grated and clicked in the lock, rattling free as he nudged the door open with his foot, and slipped inside.

    It was a house of phantoms, specters at every turn. The furniture was hidden, all but the desk and the chairs in the study, and one of the guest rooms, shrouded and forgotten beneath pale sheets. Laid to rest, he thought once again as he padded through the large open planned area that had served as a lounge. The hearth was dead, the dark wood hidden, the sheets dusty. The floor was immaculate as ever though, thanks to the one member of staff that also occupied the household. Not that he ever saw them much, they lived in the basement, and tended to be incredibly skittish, though that was most likely to them usually being chased by crowds featuring torches and pitchforks.

    He scowled at his own glossed reflection, clear to his eyes now he was in blessed darkness but for a few bars of light stretched wantonly across the smooth wooden flooring. One of these days he'd get the shutters replaced, removing the chinks of light entirely. One of these days when he could be bothered to remember. If he ever remembered. The teifling tried to think as little as possible of the house, from the empty rooms and their everyday objects in mourning, to his own sparse quarters. The study, with its desk and chairs that yet could see better use, but for the one he always sat in, tilted back against the wide window, shuttered and barricaded. And the single guest room, with his blankets thrown haphazardly upon the floor. All the years and he still struggled to stay in a bed for more than an hour a time. Lileas would have said the floor was for the beasts...and the floor was where he slept.

    Pain, sharp and acute cut him to the core at the merest echo of it, and he turned away, bypassing the master bedroom, then backtracking slowly, the whisper on the edge of his mind there. It could have been someone outside, often he picked up on the thoughts of others, a constant background noise, a frequency he was unable to tune out of. Yet he didn't think so. It was closer, more defined than the half formed scattered thoughts of those moving past at speed, engaged in a dozen fleeting patterns at once.
    Sabe reached for the door handle and stopped, hesitating. There was no taboo past the self inflicted barrier he had put against entering the room, and yet...
    He steeled himself, throwing up wall after emotional wall until he wore a mantle of icy detached calm.
    Just do it.
    He turned the handle, pushing his weight down against it and pushed the door open with the barest of whines.

    The sun shafting through the broken ceiling hit him full on, and he sneezed, reflexively taking a hasty step back and squeezing his eyes shut against the glare.
    "Son of a bitch."
    The hole had definitely not been there the last time he'd checked, and the room was still otherwise untouched, sheets draped over everything but for the odd dusty trinket sitting on the bedside table, or the box of long since dried lavender sprigs, now turned to dust on the windowsill. One arm raised to shield his face, he squinted into the room, trying to allow his eyes to adjust, and fell on the peculiar form emanating the thought of 'Shit, shit!' over and over. That is..where there was meant to be a form. The dust gathered strangely as the motes fell glittering, sticking to that one spot that suggested something unseen rested there.

    The teifling sighed, exasperated. People visiting unannounced was just not the done thing. And breaking in through the roof was his game. Still, he ought to say something.
    "You can show yourself, I know you're there." He drawled, resting one hand on his hip impatiently, his tail catching the door and closing it firmly behind himself as he stepped fully into the room, and shivered as if someone had fallen on his grave.
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    Baqi
    Member Avatar


    The door handle rattled.

    Baqi's eyes snapped open from where they'd drooped into half-lids, the sigh smashed from his mouth. The djinn almost toppled in the chair when he heard the noise, fingernails scraping on the seat, and fixed his stare on the jiggling handle with increasing horror. You gotta be fuckin' kidding me. Did shit like this even happen? Apparently it did, and only to him -- leave it to him to drop into the only abandoned-but-not-really, just-fuckin'-kidding house in the entirety of Ashoka. The djinn sunk in the chair, eyes darting around the room in a desperate effort to find a way out. Shit, shit, shit. The window was too high, and shuttered besides, and no way in hell he was getting out that hole again. Maybe he could wait for the guy to open the door, and then ---

    Shit. The djinn froze, stock-still, not daring to make a noise or movement. Dust floated past his eyes, dancing in little motes around the giant fuck you he'd punched into the ceiling. And great, to his fucking luck, the person that walked through looked like some hulking beast, all muscles and hard face and eyes that didn't look too happy. For a moment, the djinn held out the hope that he'd walk into the room, and he could dart past like hell, but---

    You can show yourself, I know you're there.

    The shock of that statement was probably second only to the dread he felt when the door snapped shut -- and in a sudden, horrifying moment, he noticed the man had a tail. What the fuck? The djinn's desperate eyes swiveled on the man-beast-elf-whozit thing and the breath choked in his throat. Can he see me? Time was sifting through his fingers, and he was just sitting, gaping, frozen like a dog with its ass stuck to an icy sidewalk. Shit, shit, shit, his brain added helpfully. He didn't look too patient, leaning there all mean like, looking like he'd beaten faces in and then some. If he can see me, then could he hurt me, too…? Magic users weren't real common in Eldahar, but then, there weren't many who could claim to see a djinn.

    Still, dude wasn't human. Didn't look too nice himself, but maybe he could cut the guy a break. Maybe he wouldn't run him through with a stake if he got the chance, like most non-magic folk. Leastways, his brain was in a panic, and he couldn't make a decision worth shit, suddenly thinking about the creepy dude in the alley and the gold in his pockets. Maybe he could pay him off, or something?

    Reluctantly, the color pooled back into Baqi's face, and limbs, till a human form appeared in the chair, nails digging into the wood, looking like he'd seen a ghost rather than the other way around. His dirty, greasy hair hung lank around his face, and his stubbly lips were twitching back from his teeth in a remarkably doglike way. The rest of him looked ready to shit himself, with wide brown eyes and dirty bare feet toeing into the wood.

    "…Ey, ey, listen, guy," he began weakly, craning his head so that he stared right back into those horrifying red eyes. Nope, nope, nope. Baqi coughed a little, averting his stare, turning away from the tiefling and giving him darting glimpses from the corner of his eyes. Like a dog caught shitting on the carpet. "Sorry 'bout the ceiling, man, guess I had too much pie, or somethin', heh--" his laugh sounded like a choking squeak, and the djinn cleared his throat loudly and thickly, sounding far too abrupt in the awkward silence. His next words blurted out of his mouth like vomit.

    "L-listen man. Don't kill me. I like living, you know, I do. Thought this place was abandoned an' all, you know? I'll pay you back for--for the roof thing, okay?" He grimaced, then shoved a hand into his baggy trousers, causing a shift and clink of metal, then threw out some scattered gold pieces and a pretty necklace by Sabe's feet. "S-see? Let's just… call it a deal, alright?" A scared, doglike whimper almost whined out of the back of his throat, and he choked it down, grinning painfully and awkwardly at the tiefling instead.
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    Sabellius
    Member Avatar
    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    The Inquisitor's eyebrows slowly rose as the being hiding from sight suddenly appeared, like someone had just poured a hundred tones of paint into him without spilling a drop on the furniture. There was a good long moment where they sized each other up, and Sabe tilted his head on one side, the frown of puzzlement deepening on his brow.

    What the hell was he doing in there, and in their...his..room? He glanced up at the shattered supporting beam, the light offensively bright, then to the debris on the floor.
    Woodworms.
    Well...he'd always figured there would be a whole host of repairs to do, or he could have just sold the place. The latter was out of the question though, he refused adamantly to let it go. It was as much a part of him as his heart was, and some part of him still needed it yet to live, to remind him of why he was here, what he yet had to do. Not that the physical reminder was necessary, there were days when every breath he drew wanted to explode from his lips in a scream of fury for the unsated vengeance, the justice that went unacted upon.

    Judging by the fact the trespasser looked like a hobo with a nervous tick and possibly some form of anorexia by his skinny scrawny frame, he could have been there to steal stuff. There wasn't much worth stealing though unless he intended to leave through the front door, carrying tables and chairs. The whole house was built on one level, bar the basement, and anything valuable to speak of he'd probably already gotten rid of himself the last time he lost his temper and started throwing things off the city walls into the desert.

    Honestly Sabe wasn't quite sure how to react, it wasn't every day you got some wandering tealeaf crash through your roof and then start gabbling like he thought if he didn't explain you were going to turn him into premium mincemeat in about three seconds, in which he'd crap himself, cry, beg for mercy, deny it ever happened, defeatedly admit it was him, accept the damage, then shriek in sheer terror when he decided that he wanted to live after all. Just the kid's thoughts bombarded him at every second with their profanity and the sense of overwhelming desperation. He wrinkled his nose, taking a half step back and leaning on the door for support.
    Shit. This is exhausting. Ah shit now he has me doing it!

    Slowly so as not to frighten the intruder, Sabe reached into his coat, sliding the lho stick out and holding it between his teeth while he hunted for a match. He jumped, pressing himself flat against the door when the glitter of gold clonked onto the floor, skidding towards him and stopping a couple of feet away, to his relief. The coins continued to roll in their narrowing circles, and he froze, watching them as though all life depended on it.
    His sigh trickled out between his lips, nerves jangling like a tart in silver bells. Control over his unusual skill was still not perfect and he was unsure how the flighty visitor might react of all the metal in the room started suddenly trying to turn him into a walking church donation box.

    It really was no wonder he'd thought the place abandoned. For him it was home, but to an outsider he supposed..but then outsiders didn't come here, he never bought anyone home for drinks or a tumble in the sheets, never hosted some fancy party or a sinner with a dozen tittering couples peering down their noses at him and making shitty remarks about the plates. Never invited anyone from the Inquisition, never invited friends...
    His own mocking laughter rang in his head, and the teifling scratched at his one remaining ear, finally locating the match and striking it on the door frame. The tense silence and the maniacal grinning of his skinny friend strung out, punctuated by the exhale of spiced blue smoke curling towards the gaping rent in his ceiling.
    "Are ya done? Cause I nearly expired listening to that shit."
    He puffed thoughtfully on the lho stick, then shrugged, gesturing at the roof.
    "Don't bother. It would have gone if a cat had so much as farted on it. Woodworms eaten it right through. You can take your trinkets and stick em where the sun don't shine for all I care."
    As if the mere mention of them did it, the coins rattled on the boards, and the necklace began it's inexorable attraction to his person, skidding across the floor boards and flying up to slap hard into his knee, drawing a wince. The coins were neither pleasant nor gentle either, peppering him like shrapnel and pinning themselves wherever they damn well pleased.
    "Well, shit. You got a name kid? Or should I just call you shitty-roof-smashing-boy?"
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Baqi
    Member Avatar


    Guy looked straight up piss terrified of the gold, like he'd thrown a bunch of live snakes rather than a necklace and a couple coins. The brief thought slipped by, though, when the strange dark elf reached into his coat for something. An instant lump leapt to Baqi's throat, like he expected him to pull a knife, and the djinn nearly went invisible again, relaxing only when the Iho stick was halfway out. Oh. A smoke. Alright, he could roll with that. He needed a smoke himself, he felt, nerves all shaken up by the day's events and some days previous. Just living in Eldahar, man. The stories the other djinn told about humans lived vividly in his mind, the trials and executions and destruction of their cities, mad-men who stomped around the desert and ran them out of caves and ruins in the name of some God or another.

    Okay, so maybe some were exaggerated. But it didn't change the fact humans were weird as shit. Eating fresh food, slaughtering things left and right like their leftovers weren't good enough for them. Everything was backwards--they took live stuff, made it into not-live stuff, made a wreck of everything, instead of the proper way around. And their animals didn't talk worth shit. Dumb as rocks, really. And forget about shifting. They had a funny word for it, "wizards." Magic users, the djinn gathered, were rare as hell and seen as freaks to be executed if they got too open 'bout it. He wondered how this guy got away with it, looking as freaky as he did, in a city full of people who lost it if a man turned into a dog right before their eyes. How the hell did anything get done 'round here?

    The tense silence stretched on, till the whole atmosphere felt ready to snap, and then the smoking weirdo broke it. Baqi blinked once, twice, sinking down in his chair at the man's words, then nearly perked back up again. Really? A faint grin tugged on his lips at the mention of the cat farts and wood worms, and he straightened up like an excited dog. "Really, guy? Alright, alright--" Seriously? This shit sounded too good to be true. And maybe it was. The djinn cocked his head, expecting some caveat, or sudden shift to anger, a shout of psych before he buried the Iho stick into his eyes or somethin' --- but none of that happened. Something even stranger did.

    "Ey!" A surprised comment burst from the djinn's lips as the gold smacked right into him. He'd never seen that before. "Whoa, whoa. You one of them wizards 'er some shit?" With the immediate fear of getting his face bashed in gone, the djinn has relaxed a little, fear melting to curiosity in his eyes, leaning forward eagerly in the chair. Then a fiendish, wheezy chuckle escaped him, lip tugging up into a crooked smile. "Hey, that looks like it could come in handy. Don't need to pick anything up ever again. Does it work on women?" Not that he'd really bothered with human women yet. Scared him a little, to be honest. With the way everything else was so backwards, maybe they were the ones with dicks.

    The djinn scratched his stubbled chin, regarding the tiefling with a grinning chuckle. "Heh, heh. I've got a name, it's--" he paused, faltering a moment. Doubted that he'd be able to pronounce it. Unless he knew how to speak Djinni, too. "--Eh, don' worry about it. Call me Baqi." Forgetting himself a moment, the djinn lifted his hand, fingers wiggling in a come here invitation, and the metal wrenched itself off of Sabe's body, flying back into the urchin's hands. Baqi clenched a fist triumphantly, shoving the trinkets back into his pockets, and promptly resumed scratching his head with an aggression that suggested lice.

    "So. Who're you, big guy? And how come you're livin' in a place for ghosts? Allergic to the sun or somethin'?"
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    Sabellius
    Member Avatar
    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    Sabe almost offered the kid the lho stick, then thought better of it. The last thing he wanted to add to his list of achievements was to start giving drugs to kids and getting them hooked too, though Baqi was hardly a kid by anyone's standards. It stuck though, and as he was hunched there like some...kid...and a naughty one at that, that was how he was gonna think of him. That or an animal that had just been on the receiving end of a shitty telling-off and was about to piss all over the carpet.
    He gave the kid a look as if to say 'Don't you fucking dare or I will skin you and wear you for a hat,' then took a long drag on his cigarette.

    The way he brightened up again was quite endearing really, like calling a dog's name and seeing it's ears lift up hopefully, the mouth drop open and the slobbery tongue loll out in silent excitement.
    No, nope. We are not keeping him. This is not a house for orphans, hobos and destitute, down-on-their-luck wanderers. I am not a cattery, and I'm no spinster. Not yet. If I wanted a hundred cats and a score of dogs I would have opened up to that already.
    The last thing he needed was the kid and a dozen of his friends rolling around on the carpet shedding and eating the furniture. Who the hell would want to visit, much less buy a property that stank of wet dog and weak bladders?

    The laugh rolled softly from where it sat snug in the back of his throat, and the teifling shook his head.
    "Gods, nau, nothing so fancy as a wizard."
    He'd cut down quite a few in his time though. No they'd seen where his prowess lie, and had him trained in the art of a weaponmaster instead. His psionic abilities only helped to reinforce those physical traits, and came in mighty handy considering his chosen line of work, first as an infiltrator, second as an Inquisitor.
    He was openly grateful when the Djinn somehow plucked the gold from him, dragging it back to himself and stuffing it out of sight once more. Considering his attire it was a wonder where he'd gotten it, and Sabe could guess readily enough.
    "No, not a wizard. Inquisitor."
    His face broke out in an easy smile at the little jest on women, and he shrugged, folding his arms and relaxing a touch. Interesting, certainly, that of all the types to fall through his roof it was this...kid. If anyone was going to try that tactic he'd have thought they'd have come to rip his face off and stick it to the wall, but fortune smiled today and it was not.
    "Just metals. I'll try coating myself in money next time and see if that works. Might just attract every beggar in the lowtown though...would be one hell of a gangbang for sure."
    The last time he'd let it get out of control he'd been dodging the silverware like his life depended on it. And judging by how close that fork had nailed itself into the wall under his groin, he might well have.

    "Baqi. Got it."
    He snapped the word between his teeth, and straightened, turning the handle to open the door behind him with his tail.
    "The name's Eliakim Sabellius...but everyone calls me Sabe, so I guess you can too." He peered over his spectacles at the kid, then inclined his head to the open door. "I don't use all the space. It was my family's. Want a drink?" At that he turned his back and stalked back out into the main living space, kicking off his boots as he went, shedding dust and sand across the floor as they slid. The tension bled out of him as he walked, simply relieved to be out of that room above all others.
    And that was exactly why he didn't invite people over. Ghosts. Like such a thing existed. He'd never seen one, not here least of all, and likely wouldn't believe until he did. And seeing as they weren't real...well it seemed unlikely.
    "Shutters stay closed, kid. The light is uncomfortable, d'you hear? Leave the windows alone."

    He shrugged out of his coat and let it fall over the back of one shrouded couch, relishing the sudden change of cool air against his bare arms and carefully removed his shades, sticking them into the coat's inner pocket along with his smokes.
    "Hope ya like it strong, cause that's all I got."
    He called over his shoulder, stretching as he moved to the study and rattled the heavy drawer out of the desk, the bottle clinking as it hit the wood, and sloshing dark amber liquid about within. Liquid lunch he called it, though the bottle said 'Tenemure's Extra Fine Whisky.' Just one more ingredient that went into the flask he kept in his pocket labelled 'Really Good Shit.' for those days when you'd been punched in a face once too many times and needed an instant revivifying cure.
    Sabe found a couple of shot glasses in the cabinet, wiped the dust out of them with the help of his finger and one corner of his shirt, then headed back into the other room, and the kid, and blanched.
    "The hell are you doin'?"
    Edited by Sabellius, Mar 18 2014, 09:21 AM.
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    Baqi
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    Nothing as fancy as a wizard, huh? Baqi kept scratching at his chin, knees up, sitting sideways like he didn't quite know the proper way to lean in a chair. So what was he?

    "An Inq--" the word caught him off guard, made him suddenly jumpy again. "An Inquisi...  A what?" He looked like Sabe had just announced there were an angry swarm of wasps in the room, or his lamps were made of human skin, or something equally horrific. "You joking, guy?" Aw no. No, no, no. He didn't hear anything good 'bout the Inquisition. People liked to talk shit, 'cept they didn't talk too loud, cuz they were afraid of Sophia's dogs bursting in and beating 'em black-and-blue. Heard of them doing awful things. And what were the fucking odds he'd broken a hole straight through one of their houses?

    Still, guy didn't seem too bad. For busting through his roof, he seemed to take it pretty calmly. Mighta been the lho stick, yeah... that probably explained it. Good thing he caught him in a smoke, otherwise his ass might be just as wrecked as the ceiling. The thoughts skittered through Baqi's mind, came out as a cracked half-laugh, half-wheeze at his joke. "Metal, ah? Ever get a fork stuck in ya?" He was curious, really. Seemed like a shitty thing to attract, now that he was thinking on it. Gold, sure, that was nice. For a person. "Don't walk next to banks or somethin'?" Maybe that's why he didn't care about the busted ceiling. He could just waltz by a tax collector and walk away with half the city's gold stuck to him.

    To his relief, the tiefling opened the door, and he got another eyeful of that funny tail. "Huh? What's that, guy?" He couldn't help but ask--the question blurted out of his mouth faster than he could stuff it down, and the djinn leaned forward to get a better look. "Hey, I've got a tail too. 'Cept not now, nah, that shit'd be weird." Wagging whenever he got happy, thumping around like a damn uncontrollable arm. Bad enough that he caught himself wanting to sniff things and chase cats when he walked around as a person. The djinn paused, realized he probably shouldn'ta said that--probably shouldn'ta said a lot of things, looking back on his life--and stared at the Inquisitor, blinking at the ridiculous name. Then a laugh burst from his lips, and he pointed at the tiefling.

    "El-i-a-kim Sabellius." Tasted the word. Sounded real funny, non-djinn names. "Ain't that a mouthful, guy. You sound like some kind of fancy wizard to me." The grin hung lopsided on his tan face. "Yeah, I like Sabe. Guess they call you that, otherwise they'd keel over just callin' you over." Shit. Hope he wasn't the touchy type. His mouth always trampled his brain, went on miles ahead. From the house and job and fancy name… he wasn't some kind of rich important guy, was he? Hoped not.

    The djinn surveyed the room, thick brows raised, and scratched at his chin contemplatively. Took in the dust still settling, the sheets laid over furniture like corpses put to rest--the stale air of the unused room, things wilting here and there, and the quiet.
    "Nice place," he commented cheerfully, in all honesty. "Shame 'bout the roof." He didn't stop to think or comment on the dreary implications of was his family's. He didn't have time, really, because the guy offered him a drink, and like hell he was gonna say no.

    "Oh, yeah," he grinned, squirming in his chair. He cocked his head a little at the request that the shutters stay closed. "Uncomfortable? The dark's creepy, man. Attracts bugs 'n ugly things, I'll tell ya." Baqi shook his head, casting Sabe a brief glance before his attentions bounced around the room again. When the tiefling left, the man sprung off the chair, feet barely making a noise on the floor, and took a short waltz around the room.

    Huh. He'd have lived here, if the guy didn't own it already. Looked like a perfect spot. Abandoned, quiet, outta the way of most people. Funny how humans sort of glazed over old buildings, pretended they didn't exist. Like once everything started crumbling, they didn't want it anymore. Baqi ran his finger on a piece of furniture, blinking at the dust on it, and wiped it on his already dirty shirt, scratching at his stomach. Man, he was kinda hungry. His eyes flicked over to the rubble on the ground, wondered briefly what it tasted like. Seemed kinda mean to leave a mess like that, 'specially when the guy had been so nice, offering him drinks and not killin' him and all.

    Trash tasted better, like discarded banana peels 'er lamb bones or whatever, but hey. Wasn't gonna complain. The djinn squatted in the circle of light, picking up a particularly tasty-looking chunk of plaster, and took a bite out of it, chewing with no apparent difficulty. Blechhhh. Tasted gross. Pretty bland, like sand, or somethin'. Baqi jumped when he heard the guy call out, flicked his eyes up to see him looking freaked.

    "What?" The djinn regarded him questioningly through a mouthful of roof, holding up the chunk. "I'm eating the mess, guy. You want some?" The djinn raised his brows, proffering it to Sabe from where he hunched on the ground.
    Edited by Baqi, Mar 20 2014, 01:56 PM.
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    Sabellius
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    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    The look on his face was a familiar one, and the teifling dared to flash the djinn a toothy and altogether unsettling smile as his answer. He had no reason to fib, everyone knew them by reputation. If it wasn't scuffling around alleyways and digging in trash for bodies then it was making them with raids or single quick operations. Not all of them were undercover and smooth either, often they'd just turn up in daylight and go about the regular business. People got out of your way pretty quick when you started flashing the badge around, be it hunting for information, or people, or weapons, or drugs...just about anything could go down on that list. Half the time it wasn't even relevant stuff, the Inquisition just helped themselves where appropriate. But that might have been a trade secret.
    So no, he wasn't surprised the kid reacted the way he did. People had reacted worse before. His own body was testament to that, each day a living breathing punishment for the errors he'd made, and the fights that he'd survived throughout the job.
    Not all of them came from this place with its light and seasons though. Most of them were deserved.

    "More than once, and at least one really close call. Pretty sure they would just call me 'nutless' if that one had hit cleanly." He laughed softly, and gestured loosely with his lho stick before remarking, "Well if ever I get low on cash and feel like handing in my badge and going rogue...I will stroll by and hope I don't get crushed by the loot in the process."
    Some people dreamed about rolling in gold. He didn't particularly want to, molten or solid, since they'd probably magnetize and bury him alive, crushed under the weight of wealth. What would he spend it on anyway? Booze? Women? More opiates? A slave with a wheelbarrow to carry him home in when he was finished trying to drown his blackened soul in sensory overload, burning himself out until he became numb to all, good and bad alike.

    Sabe glanced back as Baqi started up, asking the ridiculously obvious question, then answering it before he had finished rolling the cigarette to the other side of his lips. His brows lifted, and he gave the tiniest shake of his head, more than a little bewildered at the speed the djinn talked, but the emotion was detached, dimmed by the fog of the drug. The amusement came through as the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he flexed the appendage, the point peeling open like some kind of deformed and twisted flower, flexing the digits of his third hand to loosen them.
    The laugh fell from his lips as easily at that at the kid's reaction to his name, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. It was rather ridiculous if he was honest, but he'd grown to wear it as a part of himself. He'd thought much of the common tongue a ridiculous lot though when he'd started learning it. Still did.
    "You think that's bad, that's what I named myself so that people had it easier. Most of them can't even pronounce my nickname correctly, much less my original birth name."
    Most of them had stumbled on the first name, falling flat on their faces trying to string together something that came naturally to him. Language was an annoying barrier, and still sometimes got the best of him, though being a psion made things infinitely easier. Should he struggle, he could just make the point known mentally. There was no barrier but stupidity then, and there were plenty of inarticulate and dense people about as it was. The kid didn't look stupid anyhow. A bit thoughtless, and dirty, but not stupid.
    "Is it that different to Djinn names? Enlighten me."

    Sabe thought of reiterating the one rule he had more firmly, but decided against it, still pondering what Baqi had said about the tail. Was he some kind of monster then, or maybe something simpler to understand, like a werewolf? He kinda hoped not, they might sound fluffy and fun to play wrestle with but he was under no illusion what would happen then their blood was up. Kid was pretty cheerful if that was the case though. He'd only met one and the poor fucker had been terrified of himself.
    Kinda funny though that he thought it was creepy. Those sort of creatures thrived in darkness, would be silly if he really was a werebeast and afraid of his own shadow. Better with the dark in the house though, at least every time he walked around a corner he wasn't going to get hit in the eyes by the sun. Every time was a punch in the face, followed by the annoying and almost debilitating fit of sneezing as a result. Stack that on having shitty eyes not meant for daylight and it was a crappy weakness that he could do nothing about, not being wizardly inclined himself.

    Sabe paused with the shot glasses, eyeing Baqi with some amount of chagrin. He'd never had a guest that was so beside themselves with hunger that they had to start eating the house itself...and it wasn't even made of gingerbread.
    "No that's cool, knock yourself out kid."
    Maybe literally, I dunno. Might save me the job of ejecting you later. You know, after you stop eating my ceiling that you so helpfully turned into a ventilation system.
    Handing one of the glasses to his clawed tail, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and filled both, offering the one in his palm to the djinn. He might have been freaked out if he gave him the one held by the tail, and the guy already looked like he'd piss himself at any sudden movements and scream like a proper Morrimian noblewoman.
    "Here. You know there's probably food in here...somewhere...if you're that hungry. Real food that isn't actually wood and plasterboard that doesn't look remotely edible. Is it good?" He didn't appear to be enjoying it much, but he was making a good go of it. Ten out of ten for effort he supposed. There was only so much enjoyment that one could get from eating a ceiling support beam that ten minutes ago had been holding the roof together.
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    Baqi
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    Didn't like the look on the guy's face. Looked right freaky, it did. The djinn still wasn't sure what to make of him -- seemed like a nice guy one second, but then there was something under there for sure, somethin' dangerous he wouldn't want to mess with. Then there was the whole tail thing. Had to wonder what kind of parents he had, a guy that looked like that. Baqi continued scratching his chin, wincing emphatically when the tiefling told him 'bout the little… mishap.

    "Oof, guy. Don't like ta think 'bout that, makes me taste my breakfast." A figure of speech, of course. Had he had breakfast? Didn't remember, really. Day started off like shit, waking up in an alleyway to a guy all shrouded in black. Hissin' somethin' or another, must've walked in on something bad. And before he knew it… well. Still, his cringe didn't last for long, replaced by a dopey, lop-sided grin. "That's the spirit, guy." He snapped his dirty fingers. "Gotta roll with it. We don't choose what kinda wizards we are, eh?"

    He sure didn't choose turning into a dog. Just kinda happened, you know, found out pretty early on what kinda forms you were suited for. He wished he'd been a hawk or some shit, a dragon, even. Leave it to him to get a pissy mutt, with a tail that whumped around and a need to smell people's bums.

    He was just thinking of himself as an eagle or some shit, soaring 'round Eldahar, when Sabe broke him out of his far-off look, whistling through his teeth. "Oh, yeah, guy?" He had a hard time imagining something more ridiculous soundin' than El-i-a-kim, after all. "Sounds like they're just lazy. Sabe ain't hard to sa--" the tiefling's next words cut him off, smashed the rest of the sentence from his mouth. "S-so." The stutter bumbled off his half-open lips. "You uh. You know what I… am?" Plenty didn't. Or just assumed he was some kind of shifter, sorcerer, what have you -- the other half thought he was some kinda demon.

    Baqi coughed a little, edged a bit away. Looked like Sabe didn't have a problem with it, though, wasn't gonna come at him chanting some holy text or trying to shoo him off.

    "Well, nah. Most can't wrap their tongues 'round it. Or their ears, honest. Djinni sounds like the wind to most people. Or feels like the sun. Most are too dumb to even notice we're here at all." He shrugged, scratched his head. "Probably for the best, you know? Listen guy, honest, you people freak us out 's much as the other way 'round. Except they think we're some kind of… I dunno." He plucked at his pants. Weirdos? Dangerous? The djinn trailed off, spinning a piece of wood between his fingers, and gratefully accepted the drink, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the wreckage. The dapple of light caught his hair and eyes, which shone in a honeyed brown in the sun.

    "Thanks, guy." He didn't stop to think it mighta been poisoned or anything -- after all, he'd uncorked it right there, and things that affected people didn't bother him one bit, usually. The djinn took a tentative sip, grimacing a bit as it burnt down, and gave a thumbs up, coughing. "You weren't kiddin', eh, wizard?" He cocked his head at the mention of 'real food,' perking like an excited puppy.

    "Oh yeah? You got bones or something?" The djinn fiddled with the piece of plaster a moment longer before tossing it back into the rubble pile. "Not great. Dry, you know? Like eatin' sand." He said it nonchalantly, like it was a regular occurrence. "Nothing like finding a good carcass and eating it. Ever eaten ribs, guy? Best part." Most people looked disgusted by his usual diet, but then, maybe this guy was too stoned to feel ugly 'bout it. After all, he seemed okay with the fact he was sampling his ceiling.

    "So, Sab-ell-i-us. You know what I am, yeah? How bout you, guy? Got a story?" Baqi leaned back comfortably in the shattered wood and plaster, swilling the glass of whisky around.
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    Sabellius
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    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    A light snerk left him at the djinn's comment, and he shrugged as he left to find the alcohol, blowing his hair from eyes with the slightest hint of exasperation, despite the smile lingering there.
    "Right...wizards."
    Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to be a wizard instead, hurling fire and lightning around like toys. Would he still be underground even now, leashed like a favored pet to be used as a choice weapon? What faction would he be playing for? Would the Gods give a damn still? Probably not, they hadn't so far, and he was going to bet that they still didn't, else they might have sent him some sort of sign to push him back to a better course. Or a worse one. Who knew with deities...they played their own games, and the people were just the pieces on the board. Kings and pawns...it made no matter to them.

    "Kid, you're thinking so hard about it I almost started saying 'shit' myself." It probably wouldn't put him at ease to know, it usually didn't when he told people he could hear what they were thinking. But then, it might. It would prove some entertainment for him undoubtedly anyway, listening to the kid trying to work out how to guard his thoughts. He could always just...avert his attentions, he supposed, but where was the fun in that? And it was hard to boot, eventually you ended up unintentionally eavesdropping again, like overhearing old ladies at a tea house nattering about how she walked in on her grandson and his friend who was not so much a friend but actually a lover and how traumatizing it all was.
    Old people...
    "Don't worry about it. I'm hardly one to judge. Nobody loves a teifling, or a drow, or a demon, so I get the best of all three. In other words..." He ran his forked tongue over his lower lip, "I don't really give a damn what y'are, unless you intend to stick pointy things in me, which may mean we have a real problem."

    He watched unconcerned as the kid choked on the spirits, then knocked back his own with a shrug, the burn searing its way down to a cozy warmth in his belly. There was a point when he should eat, at least people said you were meant to on a regular basis, at least three times a day. He found that usually meant a liquid lunch these days. If there was food in the house, it would be a veritable treasure hunt to find it.
    "Pretty sure if there's nothing good in here we can go out and find something." He didn't much fancy the idea of going out into the sun so soon after getting back. It was obnoxiously bright out there this time of day, but hunger demanded...demanded what, that he stayed in and drank himself to oblivion? He couldn't do that with a guest, even an unannounced and potentially unwelcome one. Or..well he could but that was...wait no, he'd never really given a damn about whether he was rude to someone. In fact that constant air of chilly apathy was his bread and butter so he really couldn't afford to try and set himself better standards now. Not when he knew he'd just throw them out the window at the first opportunity anyway.
    "Ribs are good...still with meat on them or just the bone? What kind of stuff do you...usually...eat, kid?"
    Maybe that was better left unasked. Who knew what sort of crap the kid was digging up, looked like he could've been rooting around in the alleys heaped high with garbage and eating anything he got his hands on. Didn't really want to get close enough to sniff his breath and find out at any rate.
    Diverting his thoughts from the sound of cracking bone, the taste of fresh blood and marrow that left him feeling oddly dirty in the best sort of way, much like roughing it in one of those garbage-filled alleys, he turned his back and strolled out through the main living space again.
    "Ya like biscuits? I'm sure I got some biscuits...come on."
    There might be anyway unless he got the serious munchies and managed to empty the pantry. The kitchen was well kept, which always struck him as a surprise seeing as he never used it. The phantom smells of cooking and herbs still hung on the air as he crossed over, glancing at a dozen shiny copper pans hanging on hooks, ladles and implements that he normally would have thought went in a torture chamber. Maybe they were used for torturing food.

    And then there was the pantry, which was full of...stuff. He supposed it was edible, had to taste better than plaster anyway. Jar of pickled gherkins and beets and silverskin onions, several wrapped cheeses that looked like they'd seen better days but the housekeeper had protested when he tried to throw them out the door last time. That is, he threw them out and found them in there again the next time he went in. None of it was what he was looking for though. Impatiently he brushed aside a hanging bunch of some green shit he had no name for and reached for the large earthenware jar that sat on the easiest-to-reach shelf. Maybe he should have moved it to his room, but it always migrated back and magically appeared full again, as it was now.
    "Sugar cookies. You like sugar cookies kid? I fucking love sugar cookies." He almost hoped that he said no, completely and totally unashamed with his greed as he pulled one out and waved it hypnotically before him.
    "You do not touch this jar, understand? These belong to Sabe. If the jar ever gets empty, we have a big problem."
    Honestly the way he said it made it sound like he was laying ground rules for the future. Not that he was...this was his lair and it was staying that way.
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    Baqi
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    Thinking so hard about it? What's that supposed to mean? Shit, can he read thoughts? The djinn's smile smashed off his face, replaced by a dark, paralyzed stare. The sort a dog gets after its caught pissing on a carpet, or chewing on a dead squirrel, or rippin' up a sofa. Shit, shit, shit. He musta been kidding, right? Just messin' with his head, or maybe he'd just misheard somethin'. Wasn't the first time he'd been overly jumpy about something, but -- shit! Shit, guy, can you hear me? The djinn pursed his lips, floundering mentally, and instinctively averted his thoughts to something… else. Like what? A pink camel? He scratched at his arm and grimaced, eyes wide and guileless, shining like two great big brown orbs.

    "…Well, shit, guy. That's talent." Lucky to be all three, huh? Truth be told, hadn't heard much about drows -- got a snatch of tieflings, certainly demons -- sometimes they liked to run off with djinn or human ladies, get in all sorts of messes. But drow sure didn't wander out so far in the desert, least not where he was from. His mind drifted absently to the dunes, the searing, wrathful eye of the sun, boiling the air to a mirage whipped by sand. Missed 'em, sometimes, kinda like now. The djinn scratched at his knee, cocking his head, one eyebrow perked incredulously. "I thought I got a short draw. Y'know? Us djinn 've got shifting talent, right. And you get the ones that can turn into a hawk 'er horse 'er dragon 'n shit, smug assholes -- and you know what I got?" He threw up his arms, shrugging with a roll of his shoulders, perhaps in an attempt to cheer up his newfound company. "A dog. When I don't wanna chase somethin, I wanna pee on it, guy. It's real bad."

    At his next comment, the djinn felt a bit confused, scratching behind his ear. Did people try to stick shit in him often? "Listen guy, don't worry 'bout that. I don't swing that way." Baqi swirled the whisky around in the glass, finally mustering the nerve to take another sip in the hope it might be better. Nope, nah, still burnt like a rash on the nuts.

    Grimacing, the djinn set it down again, deciding to take it mincing and slow. At the mention of going outside, the man looked flustered again, quick to wave it off. "Aw, naw, don't you worry about that. Too many humans out there. I need a break." He gave a weary huff, stirring some of the greasy strands clinging to his forehead, and promptly scratched his head, making a further mess of the mop of black locks. The talk about food wasn't too bad, considering Eli-a-kim Threeway might be a mind-reader. Wasn't a whole lot pinging around there anyway, but he supposed he wouldn't mind if the guy knew what he thought about eats.

    "Just the bone, 'course," Baqi scoffed, as if it were obvious. "What good's the meat for? Never understood you non-djinns, you've got everything all backwards. You're supposed to eat the dead stuff, not make the dead stuff." He flicked a piece of rubble between his tan fingers. "Aw, you know, whatever humans leave lyin' around. Trash, mostly. Guess I could eat your ceiling too, guy, but no offense, it's not very good." For all his talk, the mention of biscuits made him perk like an excited dog, gaze suddenly snapping up to the tiefling's face.

    "…Yeah, I like biscuits," Baqi admitted slowly, rolling the words around in his mouth, still swilling the whisky. Trying to play it cool, calm. Last time he'd taken cookies from a stranger, some weird shit had happened. "What about biscuits, guy?" Clutching his whisky, the man trailed after Sabe, making no noise on the floorboards. He moved nimbly, keeping the glass perfectly steady without spilling a drop, even as he sprung up by the counter, poking his head into Sabe's personal space.

    "Sugar cookies?" He slapped the canine-like whine from his throat, fixing on the jar like it was a god descending from heaven. "Yeah, I li--" and then the guy held it over his head, dropping the words from his mouth, eyes fixed and glazed like the thing was a hypnotist's disc. A quiet clink preceded his transformation as the djinn lightly put the whisky on the counter, suddenly shrinking to a skinny-looking yellow mutt with wide, brown, imploring eyes. He sat rapt in attention, his ears straight up, gazing up intensely at Sabe like he was some kinda great cookie-wielding Zeus. His fluffy tail brushed the floor, face fixed into a perfect expression of canine seriousness, saliva beginning to well in his mouth. If the ladies had taught him anything, he could get more cookies this way.
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    Sabellius
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    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    Keeping his face perfectly deadpan, the teifling tried hard not to wince at the resounding noise crashing about inside his head as the djinn's thoughts picked up pace...and volume. Could he hear him? He almost scoffed. Without giving an outward response, he turned away as if having heard nothing, flinching when he was sure that the kid couldn't see his face anymore. Shit but he was loud. Easy mistake to make though, the harder you thought about something, the more frantic those thoughts were, the louder it was, technically. His own mind quested out, responding with something akin to a gentle slap on the nose as the message flicked silently between them;

    +Yes. Now put a sock in it, you're giving me a headache kid.+

    Outwardly, he licked his lips, then glanced back over his shoulder and asked, "A pink camel? I never would've guessed you were into that kind of thing."
    The shifting was mildly surprising, to say the least, but a dog wasn't that bad. Unless you spent so much time in the other form that it rubbed off, he'd heard that could happen. Sometimes they didn't want to change back. Did that happen with djinn too or were they all like that? Now he thought about it the kid did act somewhat feral. The scratching, the cowering...the potential risk of him pissing all over the floor in abject terror just increased by some five hundred percent at least.
    "Dog's not so bad. You can go places most people won't notice, or care, that a human could. A dragon might be a bit more obvious right?"
    He tried to put a good spin on it at least. It must be hard, running around casually eating garbage and vomiting in people's shoes. Or crapping in the doorway at night, when you were least liable to notice after a serious drinking session and stepped in it barefoot. He'd done that the last time he had a cat, and it had decided to regurgitate half a fish all over the bedroom floor. It was no pets after that. Fuck that shit.

    He snorted ingloriously at the djinn's eavesdropped thought pattern. Possibly that, more than anything else was warming him to the guy. He was so downright honest, if a bit shifty, and possibly would leave fleas in the bed and on the furniture but he figured that was alright. The housekeeper might find a use for them, make a tiny circus or something equally fucked up.
    At least he couldn't detect any thoughts relating to actually wanting to do him in somehow. That was incredibly refreshing, and if he had been looking for a housemate that alone might have won him over, if only to have someone who wasn't interested in killing him around for a bit. But he wasn't so it was mostly irrelevant.
    He was momentarily distracted by the kid's new name for him, which wasn't entirely misguided either. He wasn't even ashamed. There really was nothing to be ashamed about with a name like that, and he bit off a laugh before it escaped.

    "None taken, it looks pretty shitty to me. I try not to make dead things, but I'm not very good at it. Mostly because they try to make me dead first. I don't always eat 'em though."
    He hadn't actually eaten anyone in a long while. People frowned upon it if you suddenly hunkered down and started taking bites out of their comrade who had but a moment ago been trying to fill you full of sharp metal things. Or they freaked out and ran for the hills. He didn't much care for either reaction but the latter was better, it meant that he didn't have to do it all over again. Well...if he didn't catch them anyway.


    The sudden intrusive face pressing in on his vision almost made the inquisitor drop the jar, and he let out a slow uneven sigh. Bloody kids. What was it about personal space that they didn't respect?
    Sabe inclined his head at the jar, about to explain the very careful reasoning behind the fact that when you spent most of your time doped up to the ears on lho to keep yourself calm and even, you sometimes got ravenously hungry. Sometimes was an understatement and the jar was often labelled 'lifesaver' after the mad dash that always found him hunched like a beast on the pantry shelf stuffing as many of the cookies into his mouth as possible. Usually with a guilty look. The words fell from his mouth to silence though as the djinn's form was swiftly replaced with a small scabby looking dingo, his eyes hypnotically wide.
    "Don't do that."
    The staring continued, the eyes going saucer-like, impossibly ever increasing with their desperation.
    "Hey! Cut that shit out!"
    Ah look at him Sabe, he's clearly starving. He eats ceilings for cryin' out loud. You should give him some biscuits...it's gotta be better than ceiling...
    "No, that is exactly what you want me to think! I know how these mind games work!"
    Without really thinking about it the inquisitor, all dignity thrown down the pan, bounced up onto the shelf and crouched there, his tail lashing like an agitated cat, the jar clutched protectively to his chest.
    Precious.
    "Have you no shame?! You would take from a nearly-innocent man his one vice!"
    When the staring continued he swore, found his hand had already slid the lid of the jar off and was halfway to holding out a biscuit for the damned thing. How did this even work? Maybe he should be impressed by this trickery, this peculiar wizardry that he was inflicting upon him.
    "Well, shit. Just take it, and damn you for your wizardry, kid."
    The cookie fell from his claws to empty space, to the djinn's ravenous salivating jaws, that was somehow made all the more adorable and endearing when you didn't take into light how they might look savaging someone's leg instead of a cookie.
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    Baqi
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    +Yes. Now put a sock in it, you're giving me a headache kid.+

    The sudden intrusion made him start, stare at the guy like he'd grown a second head or something. There was somethin' just… well, weird 'bout knowing someone could read your thoughts -- felt like something busting in when you were takin' a dump, or walkin' into a room when you were half-naked. The images skirted helplessly through his mind, got all muddied and trampled by the shock of knowing they could be heard.

    Shit.

    He felt weirdly vulnerable, now, scratched at his arm for comfort, a certain jitteriness going up and down his spine.

    "…Man, guy. It's. Uh. Just. A little uh-- freaky, y'know? Droppin' in on people's thoughts 'n all." He shifted uncomfortably, avoided the tiefling's gaze in the belief that he might see right through to his soul or something. Then the man's head sprung up, his eyes wide, brown saucers. "…You must've heard some fucked up shit, guy. What, you got the low-down on people? I bet you've got some great gossip. Could open up a trashy news business, yaknow?"

    Baqi bit off his anxiety with a snorting laugh, trying to bat away the discomfort that had settled on his shoulders, made him hyper-aware of his thoughts. He'd gotten some weird ass thoughts before, like… wonderin' what a dude's bum smelled like, or wanting to chase a camel, or freaking out so bad at his reflection he wanted to bark at it. Well, at least the guy sounded nice about it, and the man perked up.

    "Yeah, I guess, guy. Though flying would be the shit, get me? I've always wanted to fly. Must be nice up there." A crooked grin hung on his face. Parkouring was the closest he could get -- scrabbling up to the tops of buildings and jumping across alleyways. One time he'd even made it up to the top of the mosque--which was covered in bird shit--and clung to a spire, grinning widely at the patchwork of roofs below. Could see the whole square from up there -- the gurgling blue squares of fountains, the people all made into little bustling ants, the shimmering heat and rolling expanse of the desert past the walls of the city…

    What the guy said next jarred him out of his pleasant daydream, made him stare like a deer pinned between the trees. "…Eat them?" He sounded like a deflated balloon, fidgeting and picking at his shirt. Then a second later, his mind snapped to--what, are you nuts, Baqi? He doesn't mean people. Why did his mind always jump to the worst thing? It was always ready to roll around in metaphorical garbage, making him freak out over nothing. A breath puffed between his scraggly cheeks, and the djinn gave a nervous snort, just making sure… "Oh. You mean animals 'n stuff, right, guy?" He didn't wanna give the tiefling long enough to answer, clearing his throat and jumping to the next distraction.


    Which happened to be…

    …Cookies.

    He had to admit, he felt pretty amused by the guy's reaction, the way he leapt up onto the counter, tail lashing like a cat. Cat…. cats… His mind pinged to the furry little devils, the inexplicable urge he got to chase them up the alley and bark at 'em; his lips jumped away from his teeth, pink tongue flicking out to lick away the drool swiftly forming in his mouth. Guy's kinda like a cat, right? But with cookies. As the tiefling held out the cookie, his eyes went wider--only a miracle kept 'em in his skull, frankly--and a low whine came from his throat. Then it was sailing through the air, and the dog leapt up, snapping it between his jaws and crunching it noisily on the floor. His tail wagged wildly, thumping appreciatively against the counter, and a second later, he'd inhaled the treat, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Baqi panted happily, staring up at the tiefling, and suddenly leapt up at the counter, nails clicking against the stone. His tail continued to wag excitedly, slapping occasionally against the furniture.

    Good thing you can read thoughts, huh, guy? His bright brown eyes fixed the inquisitor, sparkling in the dim light of the kitchen. Ain't ever been able to talk in this form. Kinda sucks. As if to prove his point, Baqi let out a loud bark, promptly sticking his nose at Sabe and sniffing him. The cold moistness of it bumped up against his hand, and the dog licked the tiefling, trying to get at the cookies. How many you got, huh? Hey, you smell kinda perfume-y, guy. Like a lady. Baqi's nails scraped against the counter again as he shuffled a bit over, tongue lolling out of his dopey face. He barked again, jumping up and down. A moment later, his head went into the cookie jar, and the djinn yelped with surprise, reeling off the counter. Shit shit shit. There was a scrabbling click as the dog landed on the floor, sprinting aimlessly in a random direction -- he made it into the next room before he ran head-first into a wall, letting out a yelp and jerking back as the jar broke on his head, showering the floor in ceramic and biscuits.

    Apparently uninjured -- albeit dazed -- the dog scooted up, tail between his legs, eyes lifted in shame in the direction of the tiefling, his face reading don't kill me guy, don't kill me, please. Then, without missing a beat, he stuck his snout into the pile of cookies, sucking up as many as he could before the guy came after him in a rage.
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    Sabellius
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    Sabe smirked. because honestly when someone outright said that it made them uncomfortable, what could you do? Shuffle your feet and utter an insincere apology? No, he'd never apologize if he didn't mean it. He'd had enough whips lash him for just such an offense and he wasn't about to start going back on it now. If the kid didn't like it that was tough, there was really nothing he could do about it. Oh he could actively try he supposed, but eventually he knew he'd end up overhearing something he wasn't supposed to. It was like walking past a room with a closed door. You could hear the noise coming from behind it, and sometimes you just sort of magnetically attracted yourself to it and couldn't help but eavesdrop. Only in his case it was more like walking past open doors, and the contents were usually illicit or unsavory things that weren't shared with the general public.
    He could try not to listen, but eventually he always found himself slipping and doing it again anyway.
    Amusement rattled across his features briefly and he shook his head. Yeah he heard plenty of 'fucked up shit' but then, how much did it take for you to think it was relatively normal? Was there a grading system on how fucked up things had to be before they reached a certain level and you were then qualified to be freaked out by it? There wasn't that much that he could think of offhandedly that really did that to him anymore.
    "You'd be surprised kid. It's not like I listen deliberately ya know? Well...not all the time anyway. Sometimes I just pick things up. Sometimes I'm paid to. Everyone's good at something, you can talk five hundred miles a minute and turn into a mutt. I can read thoughts and get under people's skin."
    He grinned at the last, thinking of the pookah that he so loved to wind up at every opportunity. He couldn't be blamed when he made it so damned easy all the time. There were few people too, that managed to accurately get under his skin like Dal, but there you go...every now and then there was one who just made life suck just a little bit for you, or vice versa. Dal was like...his not-so-archnemesis, or something. Though he definitely could be, with that dress sense.
    "I am gonna go on ahead and not think about you sniffing asses. You know, whatever tickles your pickle, kid. Just don't project that stuff at me, not my thing."

    The teifling nodded as Baqi spoke of flying. He'd always wondered himself...but what was the chance of being able to do that accurately? He thought he'd almost been on the verge of a breakthrough once, couldn't remember how he used to walk up walls, not since that smash on the head back in Endlyndyl. After that he'd lost a lot of things, including himself. After that he'd backed out, given up on the whole Underdark affair. What did one side matter, what was good and evil concerned when either way you were the one with the sword in your hand carrying out the orders, the one with the terrified eyes waiting for the blow to come.
    He thrust it away disgustedly, the lho smoke no longer spicy but tainting his lungs, and he exhaled it sharply, expelling it, banishing it from his already damaged and corrupt shell of a body.
    "If I ever figure out how I did it I'll let you know. I used to have a House insignia when I lived underground. All the big shot Houses had 'em. You could use 'em to levitate and stuff. They don't work up here though, first time I tried I almost broke my legs."

    Did he mean animals? He was pretty damned sure that he didn't. What was a human, a drow, an illithid but another animal anyway? He ran his tongue over his pointed teeth uncomfortably, and remained silent. Better to let the kid think that it was animals. Sometimes it was better to let people draw their own conclusions, especially if it helped them get over something that was a little hard to swallow. Unlike people. Raw or cooked, they were never hard to swallow, especially if you hadn't liked them when they were still breathing.
    Not every cold and calculating look he cast over the center of his attention was...well let's just say it didn't fall within the bounds of the norm, or the savory and respectable. It didn't really matter how much you lived in denial, because underneath you knew what you were, whether you reveled in it or not.

    "Hey careful kid."
    His tail lashed back and forth, then halted to grip the edge of the counter he crouched on, clutching the jar covetously to his breast like it was the most precious thing in the world.

    + Yeah real useful. Hey cut it out, s'cold and tickly. +

    Perfume-y? He raised one bow in silence, rolled the lho stick to the other side of his mouth and twisted his lips a little. Well it was a step up from stinking like sweat and sand and lho and god knows what else he guessed. Trying not to seem too obvious, he surreptitiously sniffed at himself, nostrils flaring.
    "Ylang ylang flower. Not mine. Probably rubbed off in the market or something."
    Yeah...in the market, in the back of a wagon while her father stood talking to a bailiff about taxes on his silk...

    The thought made the corners of his mouth curl up in a most pleasing manner at the distraction. Unfortunately the kid thought so too because he somehow managed to squeeze his entire head inside the damned jar, then made off with it.
    "Hey! Shit...look just..come back here and I'll get it...off? Kid! Kid calm down!"
    Sabe leaped from the counter to land on all fours, scrabbling upright and lurching out of the pantry in time to see the mutt miss the doorway completely and smash headfirst into the wall.
    Time seemed to stop, his eyes growing wider, pupils dilating to mere flecks in his crimson orbs. A muscle in his eye twitched, and he realized that he'd stopped breathing, his lungs paralyzed. One hand gripped the wall for support. Cold, he felt cold, sweat breaking out feverishly across his skin.
    "No...no..this can't...this can't happen..."
    He didn't even register the words had fallen from his lips. The lho stick hit the floor, smoldering there until he stamped it out, reflexively more than anything. He wasn't really paying attention but to the shattered pieces of the clay jar, now all over the floor, its prized treasures scattered freely and now being vacuumed up by the mutt.
    "Kid, you...what have you done?"
    In an instant he pushed the djinn aside, falling to his knees in the wreckage and gathering up the shards in his hands, letting them fall back to the ground clinking with that sweet music that he loved so much. It was usually someone else's stuff that got broken though, and not...not cookie jars. He would have to plan a raid on someone else's house now and find another one and gods help them but it better be full. Evidence...they'd call it evidence.
    What was he even thinking? It was broken, gone forever! The fact it was reparable was beside the point, his tail scooped up several more fat shards and dropped them in his lap, his fingers found a cookie, leaking sugar all over the immaculate wooden flooring.
    He merely knelt there with his head bowed in a minute of silent grief for the deceased baked treats, never to be eaten. Or at least not by him, Baqi was still happily removing the bodies.
    "Stop that. It's disrespectful."
    He pulled a small lump of white chalk from his pocket and began outlining the few biscuits before him, then moved around the room doing the same to the others, including those in pieces, and the jar itself.
    "The evidence must be cataloged..."
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    His head throbbed a little, but the sensation was faraway-- kinda like an insistent neighbor poundin' on a door when you were getting your pants on: there, and annoying as shit, but second to the more pressing matters. And really, that happened to be eating those cookies.

    Shit, you klutz.

    Hadn't even known the guy for ten minutes and he'd already wrecked his ceiling and broke his jar -- figured that the tiefling would come reeling and knock him in the side of the face or something. So better make the most of it. Baqi couldn't help but feel the sharp pang of guilt, ears pressed low against his skull, hunched like he was ready to bolt at any minute. The sound of the guy's voice made his tail curl between his legs, great eyes fixed on Sabe, ready to flee at any sudden movement. Sorry guy, I'm so sorry-- A moment later he was shoved aside, flinching briefly when the drow raised his hand -- but he just pushed him away, and nothing further.

    Blinking, the dog scooted up towards the corner of the room and surveyed the wreckage, cocking his head at Sabe's reaction. Was… the cookie jar special to him? Ah, shit, I bet his grandma gave it to him or some shit, great job, Baqi-- Now that the initial panic was subsiding, the sting of guilt soon lashing after -- watching the guy cradle the pieces like some broken baby. His first instinct was to flee in shame, or hang his head out of sight, get out before Sabe could turn and yell at him. Baqi cringed a little, weighing his options as the tiefling brushed up the ceramic, nails scratching against the floor. Shit. Now he felt bad, after all the hospitality the guy had shown him… couldn't just walk out now, no matter how weird the guy was being.

    Drawing circles for the cookies… what? He didn't get it, frankly, cocked his head to the side with one flopping, lopsided ear, and slowly sunk to his rump, loosing a small, apologetic whine. Was he cracked a little? Maybe, or maybe it was the lho. Either way, he had to make it up to the guy. What about evidence? Like some kinda court case? Hesitantly, the djinn shifted back into a human form, appearing cross-legged on the ground where a dog had been moments earlier; he slowly got up and dusted himself off, clearing his throat nervously.

    "H-here, guy," Baqi mumbled, holding out a tanned hand. He looked sidelong at Sabe, not sure if he'd freak out or do something else weird, and hesitated to ask for the pieces in his clawed grasp. The shards still lying on the floor flew into Baqi's hands, and he coughed lightly, bulbous eyes cast to the floor. "Look--I'm really sorry, I-- but I can fix it. Look, guy." The djinn pressed his lips together, and a small sliver of white light appeared around the broken edges of the ceramic; a moment later, they stuck together like magnets, and the glow was sealed off by the joining pieces, leaving them seamless.

    "…S-see?" Half of the jar now sat mended in his hands, with some errant hairlines here and there; Baqi bit his lip, extending it to Sabe. He nodded his head towards the fragments still cradled in the tiefling's grasp. "If you give me the rest, I can…" His voice tapered off to an awkward cough, bare foot scuffing the Inquisitor's floor. "I'm a real klutz, guy, so this kinda magic comes in handy. Wish I could fix your ceiling too, but the hole's too… big." Another cough. The djinn looked warily at the little chalk circles around the biscuits, stare hopping from each cookie to the chalk in the tiefling's hands.

    "Sooo," Baqi whistled conversationally, turning the half-fixed jar around. "W-why you doing that, guy? Ain't that what you do when people get whacked? Y'know, smashed, eat it, go play with the dune fairies?" He blinked. He saying that I murdered his cookies or something? "…You know, I, uh, I could get you more biscuits," the djinn winced, as a quiet afterthought. Seemed the least he could do, right? Not like bakeries were particularly hard to nick from, either. He didn't relish the thought of going back outside and facing a throng of humans, but...
    Edited by Baqi, May 7 2014, 08:44 PM.
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    Sabellius
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    Ahhh nooo the evidence, it had to be saved and cataloged now, and stored in the basement with all the rest. The fact he had boxes and crates of stored evidence aside was another matter. Nobody tampered with that shit when it became apparent that there was a....warden, living in his basement. And it didn't like to share. He was pretty sure it didn't eat any of the evidence either since he impressed just how vital it was to not tamper with evidence. Most people wouldn't believe ruined sweets and smashed cookies were evidence but it was a crime unto nature to let it happen. The fact he had shelves of expired cake like rocks and fragmented biscuits like stale glass was probably a source of trauma for someone out there. It was almost like a perverse sense of hoarding.

    Sabe paused in his ringing half a biscuit, the other half probably inside the dog by now and being noisily digested. He only hoped he didn't decide to let it surface later, probably in his face or something if he was unlucky. The mental image of himself thrashing in his blanket on the floor with a dog butt silently exhuming noxious gases next to him wasn't exactly endearing. Assuming he wanted to stay. Why was he even considering it like it was a thing, he'd just turned up, crashed through the roof into the no-go zone of the house and broken the cookie jar too. That was the most sacred of taboos. He'd have to set ground rules. Like 'no farting in Sabe's face' and 'no crapping in his shoes' and 'no burying stolen stuff under the couch.'

    Gods, I'm not old enough to be a father. I'm too old for this shit.

    He almost laughed at that, the contradiction clashing and rattling around his brain. How old was this kid anyway? His own wouldn't have been far off by the looks of him, if they'd been alive today. That was a sobering thought, and then some. Gods forbid his daughter probably would have been more like her mother and fallen head over heels with this one. Maybe better for them they were dead, in that case. He didn't want his imaginary child dating a greasy shifty rogue. He supposed he'd been one of those once too, but still...mentally he was still sitting in the rocking chair on the porch, sword across his knees.
    Time to wake up.

    He clutched the shards of jar tightly to his chest, in a corpse-grip that was reluctantly loosened when he focused on it. Numbly he pried his hands away from his body, still holding the pieces of porcelain in a death grip, then thrust them at Baqi, trying to force his fingers to let them go, to convince himself it could be mended.
    Was that it? The start of a beautiful friendship shattered with the cookie jar?
    "You can fix it? You can really do it?"
    He finally let go of the pieces, dropping them into the Djinn's lap instead, like letting go of a part of himself and feeling a rush of emotion, almost like grief. This was it, this was the end. If it didn't work, everything was over. The jar had been there for years, never broken, always perfectly preserved, the most favourite thing in the house. The container of holy salvation for those of the rumbling guts to worship when the witching hour affected them the worst.
    "You some kinda wizard or somethin'?"
    The teifling tilted his head, watching the jar with absolute fixation, mouth moving half mechanically as he spoke, distracted, jittery. The jar.
    "Smashed biscuits is the worst crime against humanity. Have to preserve it, prosecute the criminals."
    He shook his head, rising up from the fixation just long enough to regard the kid with a silent sharp intelligence, then scratched his chin and peered at the jar again.
    "I can get more. I just like to pay for 'em. Never know where they come from, my way. Doesn't really matter. Ya gonna fix that? It can be fixed...right?"
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    “I—I—” He musta fucked up bad, the way the guy stared at him, handing over the shards like someone was prying his baby from him. Must have meant a lot to him, the djinn thought with a sick pang of guilt, casting his eyes to the floor. It brought a sudden urgency to the jar—half a second ago, he felt confident he could mend it, no problem, but the pressure bucked his knees a bit, made him eat up his mind in circles, second-guess himself. What if he fucked it up bad? Or—no, he thought. You already fucked it up, Baqi, you made everything go to shit.

    Cowed, he humbly accepted the rest of the shards from Sabe, biting his lip. His mind scrambled like eggs, spluttering, cooking as he stared at the bundle of ceramic, like he'd forgotten how to put two and two together. “Um—duh—I—” His tongue trampled itself, and the djinn confused himself to a mutter, bumbling with the jar. The shards gave a horrifying clink, and Baqi winced, cupping a hand over to steady them. “Not—a wizard, guy, but uh, I know—a couple things, y'know, no big deal, j-just... handy for a klutz like me,” he tapered off to a tiny voice, staring entirely at the floor.

    For the sake of distraction, Baqi focused on the jar, picking up a piece daintily between his dirty fingers and fitting it carefully into a gap. The light shone again, and it mended bit by bit, till the crack sealed off. He kept doing this until the jar was whole again, casting occasional wary glances at the tiefling. What's this guy even on about?

    “These some kind of.... special... biscuits, guy?” The djinn asked slowly, drawing out the words, then his eyes went wide, near-bulging. “Shit!” He almost dropped the jar again, scrabbling at it with his hands. Baqi caught it last minute, clutching it to his chest. “Shit, guy! What'd I eat!” He shouldn't have trusted him, the djinn thought suddenly, cursing himself and slapping at his stomach, fingers fisting in the thin cotton of his shirt. “Shit, shit! There some kinda drugs in there, guy? Look, I know there's some kinda drugs in there—am I gonna die?! Should I throw up, huh?” Shoving the jar on the counter, the djinn scrabbled away, breath shuddering through his lips. He tried to turn in three directions at once, locking up instead and stumbling forward, eyes darting insanely around the kitchen.

    “Am I gonna start seein' shit? Cuz I don't wanna start seein' shit, guy, shit!” He drew up his arms, throwing them over his head, and bolted to the nearest empty pot, bending over the dusty ceramic. If Sabe didn't stop him, the djinn prepared to stick a finger down his throat, and upend everything he'd just inhaled.
    Edited by Baqi, Jun 4 2014, 08:29 PM.
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    Sabellius
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    "Nah kid, everyone breaks things sometimes. Hell, I break things all the time. Windows, ceiling, people, you know." He offered up a hesitant smile that came up as more of a grin, his gaze jerking between the kid and the jar in his lap. More often than not he came away broken too, or more broken than he already was. Could you even break something if it wasn't whole in the first place? Was it possible to make something already so smashed and battered any worse than it already was? It wasn't like rolling in the wreckage of a flattened dining table, food and all. It was more delicate than that, though the metaphor fit beautifully.
    "Handy? Kid...kid that's amazing. I wish I could do that. Does it work on people? We should try it out!"
    Sabe gawped at the jar, completely whole and seamless, not a crack on it. That was some magic alright. All he could do was attract a swarm of cutlery hellbent on castration and impalement. In other words he was as good at breaking things as they were at him, but fixing them? That was a whole other level of skill. He tried, but even his attempts at fixing society were mostly 'punch this guy until he pukes up his own teeth and then he won't do it again.' And all the looks he got too. Nobody expected the product of two races of chaos to be fighting so hard to run in the other direction.

    "Sugar cookies."
    He arched one brow, his face a clear indication of exactly what he thought which was, for the most part, 'this kid must be on more drugs than I am and he's worried about what went in the cookies?' It wasn't like they had come from the Goodnight Kiss or anything. The girls there gave him stuff all the time, though nothing quite as bad as what Sig had given him that one time. Thankfully she'd not been around to watch the hour he'd spent sitting upside down pedaling his legs on the couch and singing loudly about riding a bicycle. He'd never even seen a bicycle here and god knows he didn't know how to make one, though he could probably get one if he wanted to.
    He was pretty sure they hadn't been from Sig's. The last batch gave him the munchies so bad that he'd wolfed the lot and spent most of the day tripping and then comatose on the ceiling without knowing how he got up there. Another mystery, courtesy of Eryndlyn he supposed.
    "Kid, calm down."
    Fuck but he was a handful. Dogs had better hearing right? And this one was either partially deaf or incredibly selective.
    "Kid. Kid! Ain't no drugs in them cookies, just sugar. Kid? Shit."
    The look of long suffering consumed his features and passed his lips in an explosive sigh. Gods but it was tiring. It wasn't like he was even related to this kid but the weird connection was there, friend, father, owner? Something like that. Felt like he'd known him for years, which was impossible.
    There was a fleeting worry when Baqi jumped to his feet, but he put the jar back down and the teifling exhaled in relief. Well at least it was fixed now and he wasn't about to just break it again. Right?

    Major Nope to central command, we have a bogey.
    He flowed to his feet, bounding after the djinn and grabbed him by the scruff, dragging him back away from the pot and catching the suspect arm with the waggling finger, shaking him none too gently.
    "Will you listen to me? Holy crap kid, if I didn't know better I'd say you were already on something, crack maybe? I didn't put anything in the cookies. It's just sugar, bona fide grade A Angkarian sweet stick. Okay? I buy em from the lady up the street, has a little shop, sells all kinds of cake. Pretty sure she doesn't put anything in it that'll make you roll, okay?"
    He exhaled heavily, then when he was sure the kid wasn't about to jam his finger down his throat, let him go, subtly wiping his hands on his pants. After a second he relaxed, feeding the tension into the dark recesses of his mind, and letting it bleed out elsewhere.

    "Well you appear to have exhausted my scant supply of food. What do you wanna eat? Name it, and I'll get it."
    Sabe returned to the counter, picked up the jar and hefted it thoughtfully, then paced back to the larder and replaced it on the shelf. There wasn't much there that immediately took his fancy. When was the last time he'd actually eaten? He racked his brain, failed to dredge up the answer and shrugged, returning to poke his head around the door. Well, if the kid didn't want anything, he could always eat the ceiling. Weirdo.
    He liked the sugar right? Maybe he could turn something up.

    Sabe shook his arms out level, flexed his fingers and settled into the uniform calm of the logrus, feeling the lines of chaotic energy questing from his wrists, delicate, sensitive, probing. He lifted his left slightly, lowered the right, frowned. Quite a long way then, to find what he was after. The kind of stuff that only appeared in dreams for some. And of course to anyone else it must have looked ridiculous, just standing there waving his arms about. Maybe he should make spoopy noises to go with it.
    The jolt of energy brightened his face for a second, and he closed his hands on the cords, bracing his feet and pulling back hard against the current that flowed between the here and there. Too hard, in fact, in his excitement. He should have reeled in carefully, not just yanked on it like the head of an errant dog that wouldn't listen.

    The air was suddenly full of the little oblong shapes, cramming out of the fold of reality and burying him under a pile of multicoloured packaging, glittering with silver foil here and there. The wave of chocolate bars hit him and threw him to the ground, and kept on coming, like he'd just emptied the biggest storeroom he could find, a veritable treasure trove of sweets. They wouldn't all fit in the jar.
    Lying on the floor, the Inquisitor lifted one from his chest, examined the purple wrapper and shrugged, then tossed it in the general direction of the kid. he didn't recognize the symbols, or the little white pouring cups on it.
    "Want some chocolate, Baqi? I'm feeling generous."
    A laugh burst from him, and he flapped his arms, making a distorted man-shape on the floor and scattering chocolate bars everywhere.
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    Windows, ceiling, people, you know.

    Baqi faltered. But then the guy smiled with that grin of his, and the djinn's shoulders relaxed, and a nervous, bubbling chuckle came outta him, till he cast his gaze back down to the jar. Best not to think too much 'bout it—was just a joke, probably. Guy had been nice enough about things; wasn't like he was gonna lose it now, right? Taking a deep breath, Baqi looked up, nearly fumbling the jar again. A-amazing? He didn't really know how to take the compliment—not with his ears goin' red and a stammer tangling up his mouth, grasping for reasons to convince the guy otherwise.

    “I—I... I'm not so great, guy,” left his mouth, finally, in a quiet, defeated murmur. He looked anywhere but the tiefling, digging at the wood floor with his foot and biting his lip. “Yeah—” a cough. “—I can, just a bit, y'know? Scrapes 'n busted noses 'n all that... skin ain't so different, y'know? It's kinda like crochet.” The djinn scratched at his arm, looking immeasurably uncomfortable, hair hanging over his face. “But you haven't seen nothin', guy. Shoulda seen the Great Djinn—they can bring skeletons to life, restore all their flesh 'n all, like new, heh...” He trailed off as the memory caught in a swallow. Something glazed his eyes, haunting his stare, and he dropped his look to the floor for a long moment.

    “Anyway,” his quiet voice piped up, before the next coupla minutes turned into a... blur of sorts.

    Before he knew it, the guy had upped and grabbed him by the scruff, making him yelp. Useless, he flailed a little, arm grabbed in a death trap. His eyes went saucer-wide, fixed on the guy like he expected him to mash his face in. Baqi flinched away from the angry tiefling, shaken like a doll, considering going invisible right then and legging it—the color had just begun to drain from his face, quite literally, when Sabe released him.

    Baqi stumbled away and clutched his arm as if burnt, demeanor becoming oddly quiet and still. He hadn't really been listening to what Sabe had been yelling—just knew it was loud, and angry, and heard something about crack. Could he blame the guy? .. Once more, he felt he'd overstayed his welcome, slinking in on himself a bit. He expected the boot—for the tiefling to lash up a finger and point at the door, ushering him out, or...

    “Okay, guy,” Baqi said in a tiny, sheepish voice, already beginning to edge in the direction he thought the front door might be. To his surprise, the tiefling volunteered to get him something to eat—the offer confused him in its unexpectedness, and the djinn blinked dumbly for a few seconds, mentally jarring himself out of his self-pity.

    “M—wha—food?” The words fit together, locked into place, started turning like drunk gears. “Ah, shit, guy, uh—I ain't picky, y'know? I'll eat anything. Anything you want,” he added nervously, skirting the question, as if expecting to be grabbed and shaken again. Instead, the guy seemed to be settlin' down—quite literally, closing his eyes and waving his arms like some kinda blind conductor. Baqi blinked, then his eyes bulged as the streams of magic began to appear—popping, crazy lights, swirling round the guy's hands and flitting into unseen dimensions.

    “Whoa, guy!” He couldn't help the surprise bursting off his lips. “Holy shit, whazzat—” His mouth dropped as shapes began to bulge, torn right outta the fabric of reality—like somethin' pushing through a curtain. Baqi flinched and raised his arms over his head, bracing himself as shapes dropped outta nowhere, falling like rain and showering onto the floor, bursting outta every nook and cranny and making a giant pile of...

    “Chocolate?” It looked like the djinn had been sent to some rapturous heaven, eyes at risk of boggling out of his skull, face like he'd seen God. “Hoooly—” Baqi spun around, barely believing it, dropping to his knees and into a giant mound of sweets. His hands plunged under and lifted up fistfuls, letting it trickle through his fingers like sacred water. “—Shiiiiit...” The chaotic magic had rent him to speechlessness as he picked up one in trembling, eager hands, unwrapping it to see if it was real. The sweet, sweet smell hit him—set his mouth to watering like crazy, lower lip gibbering, an exclamation bursting for release.

    “Holy SHIT, guy!” The anger of moments earlier forgotten, a crazed, disbelieving laugh giggled off the djinn's lips, like a kid walking into a candy store for the first time. “Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? Is this real life, guy? Sure you ain't just fuckin' with me? What'd you mean, you ain't some kinda wizard?” The djinn cried in mock exasperation, holding fistfuls of chocolate and wagging 'em at the tiefling. “Shit, guy, you're practically the Great Magi—fuck all those other powers, guy, this is—this is—shit! The greatest!” Rare joy cracked his features, and he laughed, throwing himself into the pile. Yep, sure was chocolate, alright. He'd count himself lucky if he sniffed out a little morsel in some fancy bakery—but a whole room full of it? No way, never in a million years, nah... His eyes were black moons, staring at the single chocolate bar in his hands like he'd found the holy grail.

    He took a bite, half-expecting someone to snatch it away and make everything disappear before he could taste it—but it didn't... it was really chocolate. It was really his. Happy tears sprung to his eyes.
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    Sabellius
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    Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.

    The laugh burst from his body, high and bright, surprising himself, right from the heart. But it felt good, more than good, amazing, to see that he'd managed to do something right for someone that didn't involve any sort of violence. The djinn's repeated expletives and abundant joy only served to make him laugh all the harder, the look of absolute awestruck wonder really blew everything else out of the water.

    He supposed that it might have been a bit wizardly, even if he didn't know where the hell it all came from. He just searched fro what he wanted, and it came. He deliberately didn't question where from, because after the last time when he'd bought through some kind of lightweight metal ladder, and the side had been all splashed with wet paint, he thought it much better not to. At least he wouldn't feel guilty then for maybe taking things that didn't belong to him, when they were in use. The whole taking things that didn't belong to him wasn't a factor. He was an Inquisitor, and therefor by extension, everything belonged to him if he wanted it badly enough.
    Logic.

    "It's all real. Unless I popped some really bad cookies and you're a figment of my imagination. Pretty good one if y'are."
    Sabe propped himself up on one elbow, grin fading. For a moment there he'd felt...normal. It was weird, the disconnected unreality of it all. For a second there, there had been nothing, no crushing depression, no slavering bloodlust, no hate or fear. He was just himself, laughing at the joy of someone else because it pleased him to do so. Now if he could just learn to do it again and hold onto it...
    It wasn't like throwing himself at alcohol, or drugs or sex, or violence. Sure, those things gave him some pleasure, whittled away the time and gave him something to do but...it wasn't just a case of doing it because he enjoyed it. They'd become almost tasks, ways to distract that had to be done, needed, to continue onward.
    This was different.

    Watching the kid take his first bite of chocolate, the teifling found the odd, genuine smile working its way onto his face again. He found it not to be unpleasant. It must have been a good ten, twelve years, since he smiled like that?
    "So, where ya from, kid?" He picked up one of the bars, turned it speculatively in his hands and picked at the edge of the wrapper, carefully lifting the paper away from the foil with a fingernail. "Assuming you're local..."
    Thoughts clicked together in his head, the sweetness as he bit into the surprisingly pale chocolate, dragging his gaze back to the djinn. He'd been eating trash...wasn't exactly clean, highly skittish, a bit rough around the edges and now acted like...well, like he'd just given him the greatest gift in the world.
    Sabe stopped chewing, swallowed the cloyingly sweet lump, trying to stick his teeth together. Gods but it was so sweet it made his face ache, and it a wholly good way. It didn't take a genius to work it out, but he felt somewhat ashamed that it had taken him that long at all. Despite the filth and the fruity language, he rather liked Baqi, could maybe use someone around to give him a reason to smile like that again, to drop random acts of kindness. Maybe even a real friend if things could go that far, not to get ahead of himself.

    Because that doesn't sound wholly selfish.

    Peeling back the strange crinkling foil, he took another bite and took the time to savor it, despite the ridiculously large pile of chocolate all over the floor.
    "Hey, come here. I wanna show you something."
    Without waiting to check if the djinn was following, Sabe got to his feet and made his way out of the kitchen, back into the main room and slipped away down the hall, nudging one of the doors open with his foot. More covered furniture inside, but he could get the housekeeper on it in no time.
    "Bed's there. There's a bathroom at the end of the hall. The door over there is not a closet. It's a privy."
    He jerked a thumb over his shoulder sharply at the door behind him, only open half a crack, but more or less identical to the one he'd just introduced the dog-boy to, but for the extra bedding on the floor, and the furniture pushed aside.
    "That's my room."
    Shit this suddenly got awkward, fast. He stood there, quietly devouring the white chocolate, tail waving slowly from side to side while he watched, gauging the kid's reaction.
    "Don't empty the cookie jar without refilling it. Don't pee anywhere except the privy. If you bring girls back put a hat or..something, on the door. You know, so I don't throw you off your game."
    Edited by Sabellius, Aug 26 2014, 08:43 PM.
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    Baqi
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    He stuffed the chocolate into his mouth as if it would disappear any second -- practically choked on how sweet it was, but it was the good kinda choking, the delicious kind. Wouldn't mind going that way, really. Dyin' on chocolate was a good kinda way to bite the dust. Baqi chewed, eyebrows to his hair, cheeks bulging like some kinda rat. He didn't know why the guy was laughing so hard, didn't really think to question, instead giving a grin full of chocolate.

    Far as he was concerned, this was the coolest thing he'd ever seen. In his whole life, even.

    He hadn't felt happy like that in a while, longer than he could even remember. For a sec everything just went away, swirled like dust, left nothin' but him and the chocolate.

    "Awwhh yhheah ghuy?" Baqi's attempt to talk was muffled by the sweets crammed in his mouth. The djinn waved around another chocolate bar, eyes wide open as saucers. "Fheel laik 'm dreamin'fff well!" He didn't stop to see if the guy can understood a word of it, swallowing and closin' his eyes in bliss. Nothin' like it existed out in the desert, that was for sure. Had nothin' in the whole world to compare it to, really, half expected to wake up any second and find himself gnawing on bone.

    But he didn't. It stayed real. He didn't wanna leave the dream, if it was, didn't wanna open his eyes and have it all be over.

    "Hmmmg?" For a second he even forgot the guy was there -- opened one eye and blinked, coming to. There was chocolate stuck in his scruff and he'd inhaled half the bar, practically, tryin' to eat it before the desert heat melted it all.

    "Ahm fffrom the defert, guy," the djinn informed him thickly, swallowing the chocolate in his mouth and peeling the wrapper some more, picking carefully at it with a dirty finger. "Northern parts, outside 'a Eldahar." A grimace came to his face then -- some of the dream melted away, little holes opening up in that rush of happiness. Baqi took another bite, careful this time, smaller, suddenly embarrassed he'd horked it down like a starving dog.

    He brought it to his nose and sniffed it as he nibbled, still awed. How could somethin' be so good? If he'd still had his tail, woulda been wagging like crazy right now, practically flyin' off his ass. He didn't even know there were different kinds of chocolate. His was brown, but the guy's looked white, and now that he looked, some of the wrappers were different colors. A sorta crazed look came into his eye, the same kinda giddy mania that sparks up in a kid at a candy store. He'd just picked up a purple-wrapped one when the guy spoke again, peeping through his tangle of hair with wide, curious eyes.

    As the guy got up, the djinn stuffed some extra chocolate bars into his pockets, figuring he wouldn't mind… right? There was enough to feed everyone in Eldahar, at that rate. The djinn scampered after the inquisitor, practically a ghost, wondering what it was all about. Surprises… he didn't really like surprises. Always got him all anxious and worked up, made his mind jump into the worst pits.

    He half-expected to see somethin' that'd spook the shit outta him, some horrible secret -- but as the guy pushed open the door, Baqi blinked, confused. Craned his neck, but still didn't see anything but a buncha covered furniture, somethin' that looked like a bed…

    The djinn blinked. Blinked again, wondering if he was thinking straight. Stared right up at the tiefling, still clutching the chocolate to himself, eyes going wider and wider. Wait, wait…

    Was he saying…


    It almost sounded too good to be true. He waited to see if the guy would suddenly bust out laughing again -- tell 'im he could stay for the night but had to leave, tell 'im to leave right now, even… but he didn't, just stayin' there, tail flickering around.

    A lump flew to his throat. Without warning, his eyes started burning up, and he barely believed it, thought he must misheard, or was just being wishful, or something --

    "S-seriously, guy?" His voice was a piteous squeak, a disbelieving breath. He felt like he was gonna cry all of the sudden, hit by the guy's kindness, the sudden, surreal realization that he could sleep in a bed, have a roof over him, not be kicked 'n chased in the street like a dog. But they were happy tears, happy -- even as they welled up and he chased them away with the back of his hand, bowing so low he practically touched the guy's feet. Woulda hugged him, but he didn't wanna overstep himself, freak him out.

    A whole room to himself was way more than he could ever pay back -- way more than he could ever express his gratefulness for. Could practically spend all day blubbering and licking the guy's feet and it still wouldn't be enough.

    "For real? I… I ain't dreaming--?" He clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his quivering, twisting mouth, trying real hard not to cry. Then a laugh of relief left him, burst out, made him tremble all over. He couldn't think of anything proper to say, to express the weight that just lifted off his chest, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite himself. Next second, he was hugging the guy's leg -- just ended up there somehow, like a spastic, clinging dog.

    "I'm--I, guy, I d-don't know what to say but-- I'll do anything, I swear, I can clean 'er… try to cook 'er get your groceries or anything, anything you want, anything at all." A watery grin broke across his face, sudden, radiant, as he scrubbed away the tears, prying himself off Sabe.

    "Thank you I -- thank you, I, I-- I sure hope I ain't tripping, guy," he squeaked out breathlessly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "This is the… the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I... I'll make it up to you somehow, I s-swear."
    Edited by Baqi, Sep 4 2014, 05:56 PM.
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