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| Pooka Tales: Of Sugar and Spice; For Sabe | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 20 2014, 08:30 AM (405 Views) | |
| Dalbhack | Nov 20 2014, 08:30 AM Post #1 |
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Things hadn’t been quite the same since the night it had rained more than just water. Though could one call a single figure falling from a building raining? Perhaps so. Nothing was quite the way it should have been, the halls seemed to echo with silence. Painfully so that the Pooka would jump any time he heard footsteps heading towards his office. Avoidance was the tactic he was taking, if he worked mostly during the day and ducked in to the paper strewn confines of his office then he would not have to face the bitter reality of the choices he had made. A selfish yet at the same time unselfish choice, to give up this fanciful pursuit of normalcy in order to spare someone more emotional pain. Pain, it was better to deal with it now than to deal with what could have been a more devastating mistake. How long would it take? Too long he imagined as he scraped away sand and blood from his gauntlets. It did hurt surprisingly, right in the center of his chest. Every time that it got quiet and he was left to his own thoughts the pain would return and he would have to sit back and stare at the ceiling or lean forward and hide his face from the world in his hands. But what did it matter if the monster bleeds? The big bad inquisitor brought to his knees when the heroes were gone, left alone in the darkness. Darkness which spoke quiet taunting words, encouraging the monster to do terrible things, bringing that blanket of doubt tighter around the monster’s being with words of contempt. Always the same sentences playing over and over: Nothing but a monster, Alone, You do not belong anywhere. He believed them, though they had never bothered him before. A Pooka would almost always be alone, a creature born of the nightmares of children. No family, no friends, and certainly no companion; for who could love a monster? Another monster perhaps? But it was more likely to end in bloodshed than a happily ever after. As with all stories the monster died at the end. Perhaps it should not have been Sabe up on that roof but himself. At least the Teifling had some perception of what it was like to not be a monster. Not everyone feared the Teifling like they feared the Pooka. There was no depth to the Pooka, he was what he was. Though he had tried for a moment to be something he was not, attempted for a short while to care about someone or something other than himself. But of course he had failed; it wasn’t in his capacity to change what he was. What was he though? Just the lapdog of a tyrannical leader, the nightmares of children, or nothing? Was he nothing? Again these were all new concepts to him, and the fact that they weighed heavily upon his mind bothered him. They bothered him to greatly that he slammed his fist in to the desk splintering the wood. It didn’t matter. Perhaps a bit of fresh air he thought as he stood from the mess of papers and now splintered wood. Not even bothering with door he drifted through the walls until he was out on the streets of Eldahar. The noise of the streets was welcoming and he drifted towards the market square. Sure the people still avoided him as if he were the plague itself but out in the open just wandering at least they did not quiet there chattering, merely turned away from the specter and made sure their conversations were kosher. He didn’t know what he was looking for if anything. However a scent caught his attention, a soft but warm wafting smell of what was clearly sugar and butter. Casually he drifted towards the smell, to the obvious source of a bakery, just pulling a fresh batch of sugar cookies from their oven. |
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| Sabellius | Nov 23 2014, 10:00 AM Post #2 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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A hand crept up over the edge of the counter, then another, a row of dark fingers that gripped the wood too hard, followed by bruised and scabbed knuckles, a questing nose and two crimson eyes that glared with intent across the surface. The would-be-thief pushed the tinted shades up his nose, tongue caught between his teeth as his hand inched forward, hovered over the tray with indecision, the sugar cookies steaming gently. Smack! Swiftly the hand retreated, shaking it as if that might make the sting lessen some, the glare intensifying to a full out glower. "You can wait until they are cool." "But I don't want to wait." "You will." "I could have you arrested." "For what? Not allowing you to shamelessly stuff two dozen baked goods into your mouth? You'll just burn yourself." "This time tomorrow you could be hanging from a gibbet." "And then who would bake for you hm? Stop being so dark." The cambion stifled a growl, resumed thrashing his tail in agitation and watched as the twig-thin elderly woman slid the next tray from her open oven, dusted it with precious sugar imported from angkar, then slid it smoothly back in. His mouth watered, and he dug his claws into the top of the counter. "If you ruin my workstation you'll be paying for more than just the cookies. And stand up, for goodness sake. You're behaving like a child." Reluctantly Sabe peeled his fingers from the wooden surface, and rose to his full height, towering over the seemingly frail little female. Appearances were deceiving though, and he knew first hand that those spindly limbs were made of iron. If only by the fact she had a good, quick hand on her that was all too willing to deliver a stinging slap to questing sweet-thieves. "Oh don't pull that face. You're my best customer, undoubtedly." The scowl dissolved into a grin, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, more to keep himself from snatching than any real embarrassment. Since the kid had moved in, he was surprised she hadn't upgraded to a bigger store. Most of his pay probably went on snacks and small luxuries now than anything else. He seemed to be mostly subsisting on sugar these days anyway, not that it was a good thing. He stood as patiently as one could, considering he'd not eaten throughout the morning. Which was to say not at all. He paced until the woman threatened to hurl a rolling pin at him, then continued, and caught it when she did. Better that he catch it, than let it smash one of her displays, as petty as he felt in the half a breath it took to consider avoiding it entirely. Sabe set the tool down as she loaded up the box, leaned over and snatched one to a look of grim disapproval. "I hope you're going to share those with your little friend." "Mmf." Unclear whether that was a yes or a no, she noted down the tally and he handed over the sum even as she shook her head. He hefted the box in one arm, grinned and swallowed the still-warm sugary goodness. The day just got a little better. "Thanks, Grandma." "Eliakim." He turned, had barely set foot at the threshold when a familiar figure drifted into sight. Were he not clamping the cookie between his teeth he might have dropped it entirely. He'd been sort of making an effort to avoid the Pooka. Well alright not really, only because it seemed that Dal was doing a good enough job for both of them. A shadow passed across his face, and he took an uncertain step back into the store, to the raised eyebrow of its owner. He couldn't just run. His outburst had been more than justified. Probably. Maybe. Sabe scowled, then stepped outside into the damned sunlight, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so to avoid a sudden episode of sneezing, and cracked them open again when he was sure. Sidestepping out of the way of the door, he stuffed the rest of the sugar cookie in his mouth, then began reluctantly distributing them to the little gang of pickpockets and thieves clustered by the door waiting. It was, he figured, a just payment for information. Money was one thing, cookies was another. He probably wouldn't have bothered sharing his precious hoard were it not for the trade his wife had been a part of a decade past, had carried it on out of the sheer usefulness. The kids kept their ears to the street, and he was doing his part. Sort of. By giving them goodies to make them hyperactive. Well...maybe not. When he looked up, the Pooka was nowhere to be seen. His apathy melted into another scowl, rather having him in plain view than slinking about and drifting through walls, stubbornly digging his mental heels in. I'm not apologizing. The rabble dispersed, leaving him standing there with a mostly empty box and a growling stomach, and a whole lot of worries and depressing thoughts. He shoved a cookie into his mouth more as a distraction than to quiet his guts, using his free hand to search his pockets for his lho, half turning at the expectant noise behind him... |
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| Dalbhack | Nov 26 2014, 08:54 AM Post #3 |
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Avoiding Sabe had been fairly easy, as long as he avoided the places he knew the other frequented. But that fresh smell of cookies had eclipsed that judgment. Thus he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Sabe dealing cookies out to a gaggle of street urchins like it was crack. It pretty much was, but information was a precious commodity and if you had to paid for it in drugs or in this case sugar than that was what you did. The Pooka ducked out of sight from Sabe, his heart pounding like he’d just been found out for doing something indecent, okay perhaps not what would cause his heart to race, but it would have to do as a description. Perhaps he was the one who should run, but if they’d both been avoiding each other then what were the chances that Sabe would be bothered to pursue the Pooka out in to the sunny streets? As for anyone needing to apologize it would have been all on Dal. He’d provoked the reaction from the Teifling that had truly sent their strained relationship to a breaking point. They had always been at each other’s throats but never so much as to make it as stingingly personal as the Pooka had. It hadn’t even been his intention, he’d wanted to mend the cracks between them and take it even further, a selfish move on his part. The Pooka was a selfish creature after all and it only shown that much brighter when he couldn’t set aside that selfishness when the teifling had needed him to. Of course he wasn’t just selfish but jealous, a curious feeling for Dal one that had left him feeling quite hollow and useless when the night had ended. That hollow feeling had manifested itself in to a voice in the back of his head that constantly liked to remind him that he was nothing more than a monster and that monsters did not get happy endings. Monsters did not even get back stories, and it was true, wasn’t it? What back story did the Pooka have? All his memories were of being part of the Ashokan military or the Inquisition. Nothing of being a child or having a family, did these things even exist for him? Where did he come from? Where was he going? Did it matter? Give up, the voice would say, embrace your purpose. But what purpose was that? To go around terrifying the people of Ashoka, and to do as Orion instructed. Who was Dalbhack Scathach? You are no one. You are a monster. What did the voice know? Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was defiance to the voice, or maybe he’d gotten over the avoidance and was going straight back to the rivalry that made the Pooka do what he did next. Walls were a funny thing, never really doing any good against ghostly apparitions unless enchanted. And this wall was no obstacle as the Pooka popped out of it like a jack in the box with a resounding “Boo!” right next to where Sabe was standing. “Feeding the fleas are we?” asked the Pooka offhandedly as he pulled himself fully from the wall and floated there in a reclining position. Watching the Teifling it made Dal realize that he'd never be over the other no matter how much he wanted to push Sabe away. Heartache welled inside his chest but he pushed it down and hid it with a devilish grin. |
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| Sabellius | Dec 15 2014, 02:50 PM Post #4 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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His single ear flicked in the direction of the air subtly stirring, the shadow of movement, eyes almost popping out of his head. The cookie jammed in his maw and set him to choking, half spraying crumbs to a chorus of open laughter from the rats, the box hitting the dusty street with a resounding hollow whunk. "Sonovabitch!" Strangled, the single garbled word wheezed from his lips, smashed the dusting of sugar from his chin, his mouth with the back of his hand. Sabe righted himself, adjusted his shades from where they sat askew, squinting in the bright light. His tail quivered with suppressed anger, the barely chained dog in him uncoiling, peeling lips away from raw gums, teeth glistening...before he caught himself, and smoothed his face into a chilly semblance of politeness. "Well, gee, you almost had me that time. It wasn't a building, but what does the method matter?" The sneer curled his lip anyway, instantly regretting it once it was out, unable to take it back. It died just as quickly, the sourness curdling in his guts. Where the hell did they even stand with one another? He wasn't sure if things were supposed to go back to the way they'd been before, or...or...what? They couldn't avoid one another forever. Confusion made him angry, wound him spring tight with anxiety, the discomforting memory of the Pooka's lips hard on his, and cold rain playing the chills down the back of his neck, his spine... He didn't apologize for the slight though, refused to meet Dal's eyes for it. How could he be so relaxed, so...indifferent? So normal. He wanted to grab him by the throat and claw the smarmy confident grin from his face, shake it into him. His fingers flexed, the muscles in his arm tensing subtly, relaxed. No, he was better than that, he didn't need to descend into madness and outright anarchy, much less turn his caged violence on someone he'd considered...hoped...was a friend. Sort of. Sabe exhaled heavily through his nose, tempering patience, and crouched, gathering up the box. With one claw he lifted the lid, and grunted. Dashed to pieces. He doubted Baqi would care. They'd get eaten regardless. Hell the kid would probably eat them even if they were covered in garbage water. Not that he'd seen much of him lately either...he'd been avoiding both of them, spending his time steadily consuming the host of foul spirits that Ashoka could set in front of him, until vision blurred and memory slipped free for a while. Until he no longer gave a damn about the figurative elephant sitting in the room. He wondered quite suddenly, what Dal had been doing, but kept himself to himself, didn't want to reach out and touch his mind, to breach the subtle acceptance of the situation between them. It would be like kicking the supports out from under a dam, watching as all the shit flowed free, all the complicated mess that they were holding down with fragile illusions and masks. "Here." He flipped the top off the box, and thrust it at the Inquisitor like a weapon, reluctantly offering his shattered prize. Some of them were still intact at least. "Don't choke on it. That's reserved for me alone." |
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| Dalbhack | Dec 16 2014, 11:17 AM Post #5 |
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Dal caught sight of the angry face Sabe had been making before masking it quickly. If the look alone didn’t make him feel bad the words that followed did. Previously such a remark would have been laughable even normal, but now with the events that had occurred and the tone in which it was said, the remark was cruel. The grin faded from the Pooka’s lips as his teeth ground together in a mix of his own irritation and sadness. It of course was no surprise that things were still tense between them; it had been a terrible barb that Dal had stuck Sabe with that night. Dal would have preferred violence than the sudden awkwardness of silence that fell between them for a length of time while the street urchins appeared to quietly slip away. No one wanted to be there if the two Inquisitors got in to it, particularly knowing their reputations. Dal had never had any qualms about hurting children and they certainly knew it as they skittered off into the dark recesses of the alleyways or out in to the sunny streets of Eldahar to pick pockets of unsuspecting citizens. The box thrusted out towards him was at least something; if not violent at least it helped to ease the silence. A small shudder went down his spine as he looked at the contents of the box, particularly at the broken pieces. He took one cautiously and kind of stared at it for a long while, his fingers giving a slight twitch. Broken. Not unlike how he felt, though what right did he have to feel that way. He brought it close to himself placing it between his hands as if it were some fragile creature, an awkwardly gentle gesture from the otherwise brutal Pooka. “You’re stupid,” were the words Dal chose to break the silence with, the only thing he could manage to say to the Teifling. A mask to his true feelings painted over in anger and contempt. Grinding his teeth together again with a mix of confused and irritated sounds before he could manage to say anything more that wasn’t bile. “I’m sorry,” he blundered out almost tossing the cookie piece at Sabe’s head in the process but managed to hold on to it and returned to hanging on to it like it might help this be less awkward for him, “I asked you to open up and then shat on what you had to say. I didn’t know what to do. I’m not used to feeling…things…things I can’t even tell you what they are because they make no sense! All I know is it hurt, and I wanted it to stop. I want to hate you, but I can’t. I don’t want to feel anything. But that’s selfish, you needed someone and I let you down because I was afraid of what feeling for someone else meant.” All the while Dal had been staring at the cookie only looking up for a second or two at Sabe. Afraid. Not scared in the sense most might use the word afraid for but in the way one would describe the unknown, and for the Pooka the unknown came in the form of emotions. |
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| Sabellius | Dec 19 2014, 10:37 AM Post #6 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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The sting of satisfaction as the smirk was wiped so cleanly from the Pooka's lips was almost more than he could take. Despite the need to strike back with a knife-edged tongue, he found that he was more disgusted with himself than anything else. Once it had just been snappy jibes to goad one another. usually he won, driving the other Inquisitor into a sulk, or a boiling anger. Well, he'd like to think he won. Most of the time he was quite good at concealing his irritation with the teasing, the interruptions and the pranks. It seemed so wholly petty now that he should lash out in such a form that was cruelly barbed such as to wound the one he'd considered...friend, he supposed. Rival? It was hard to tell, honestly. It wasn't that he wanted to drive Dal away exactly...not forever anyway. Just until he'd cooled his heels some, until he was less likely to allow things to trip from his tongue, like just now. Until he'd settled into the chill comfort of something like forgiveness. Disgust, and shame. He'd tried to pull himself away from such behavior, be a better person. He wasn't really achieving it anymore, wasn't trying to delude himself in letting his own mind fall prey to the tricks and traps he set up for himself. He was being an asshole, and he knew he was, deliberately so. Mercifully the street was falling quiet, the gaggle of children gone like roaches at the first sign of illumination, scattered. People were finding excuses to be elsewhere, to avoid the tension leaking from the pair. He shouldn't have been surprised but Sabe found himself to be so, aching a little at the stupidity of it. It was, as Rhia had said, a downside of a reputation perhaps. The fear an Inquisitor might impose on others was only so good if it wasn't hindering you. He didn't really want to be alone right now, and not with Dal. It just made things awkward. Sabe watched a moment, scowled and drew the box back to himself. It wasn't much of a peace offering. "You're supposed to eat it, dumbass." He thought of swiping in an uncharacteristically childish action, knocking the treat to the floor, or simply shoving Dal now he was corporeal. Instead his grip only tightened on the box. His gaze narrowed, felt the tremor under his tongue, like he might vomit liquid rage. Squaring his shoulders, he prepared to take his leave, lest it degenerate into a simple back and forth of insults when the apology dropped between them, all tangled up with pain and regret. He didn't really know what to do with it. Tell him that he was a tit, and that they were done with..whatever this was? Part of him, the old him, screeched at him to walk away from it now, or laugh in the fae's face. All the old racial prejudice boiled back up for one startling moment, holding his tongue between his teeth, undecided. He threw it off with some effort, sloughing it from his shoulders, like shrugging from an old rain coat. It wasn't him anymore, he'd left that behind when he came here. Wasn't going to let something as stupid as his past dominate everything that was his present. Perhaps he should include the clash with Dal in that, but that still...was very much closely the present in itself. Sabe shifted uncomfortably, refused to meet the Pooka's gaze for a moment. It wasn't as though he couldn't sympathize. Before the lho, things had been difficult to sort out. He couldn't make head nor tail of what he felt, and as a result everything made him angry, wild and unpredictable. In those low moments alone he felt...lost, utterly empty, devoid of being. Couldn't find himself. Still couldn't, sometimes. The silence after those words was thick, though lacking the hostility of before. He simply felt...weary or it all, exasperated even. Dal was right, he was stupid. They both were. "I think I would have preferred it if you hated me. It would make things easier." He gritted his teeth, exhaled heavily through his nose, not really knowing what to say, where to start in possibly mending their fragile relationship. "Of course..the best things are always the hardest...always come at the heaviest price..." Absently he took up a piece of one of the broken cookies, and pushed it into his mouth, hardly tasting the buttery sweetness of it. "Will you just eat the damned thing and stop playing with it? Look I...maybe I overreacted some. I'm not good at...letting people in. And that was fine, before...nobody really gave a shit, unless they could use it against you somehow. I guess I didn't expect you to either." He raised burning eyes to Dal's own skittering, fidgety ones, and shrugged uncomfortably. Gods above he let him get into his head, that was his job, yet Dal was getting under his skin with little trouble, not even being a psyker. Fuck emotions. "Maybe I ought not to have held you to the same standards. I'm not sorry though." He added the last quickly, annoyance pinching the corners of his eyes taught. "You're a pain in the ass." |
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| Dalbhack | Jan 6 2015, 06:11 AM Post #7 |
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The Pooka could agree on the awkwardness of being alone with Sabe in that moment. It only made things worse, that sinking feeling he had when dealing with this subject only intensifying tenfold. Feeling small and exposed while he let his apology spill forth, coupled with the excuses. But what apology did not come with some form of excuse? Though he wanted to say it did not matter if Sabe accepted it or not, to say that just getting it out there was good enough, he knew that to be untrue. Desperately he wanted it to be accepted, to mend a bit of that bridge he had so recklessly destroyed in the span of a breath of angry words. But it wasn’t just the bridge that had crumbled into stone and wood, it was also the ladder dashed to pieces at the bottom of that very same ravine. A ladder far more important than the bridge, though the bridge helped, without either what more could the Pooka say that he was other than a monster. “That’s what I told the dog,” muttered Dal as he awkwardly shoved the piece of cooking in his mouth to cover up his mutterings. Indeed he had told Baqi that it would have been easier to just hate Sabe. Time and time again he had tried to convince himself that he hated the teifling, to let it go, that it would be easier to hate than to be friends or anything other than a rival, with Sabe. “No one expects Pookas to care,” said Dal with a small shrug of the shoulders. And it was true, unless you believed certain other tales where Pooka were benign creatures that helped with farming and were goats. Of course Dalbhack was no goat; he was clearly a big black horse and behaved very much like a thing to be feared. When he wasn’t trying to understand why he had feelings for a particular teifling when he’d never had feelings for anyone before. Perhaps it was simply that there were things about the two that were similar, or that Sabe had another side that he had some success at conquering, a side that was not unlike how the Pooka was on a normal day. “We’re not on the same moral field as most people,” murmured the Pooka, “it’d be hard for either of us to be held up to normal standards.” Eventually Dal found his spine and straightened up a bit. “I should go though; this has been awkward enough for the both of us.” Turning a bit Dal made to give Sabe leave of his presence, they both seemed to still need time to process everything. |
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| Sabellius | Jan 10 2015, 07:08 AM Post #8 |
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Well at least we're on the same page there, then. He let that thought sour in his gut with the rest, shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. he couldn't claim to begin to understand Dal's current situation, or the way he was feeling, wasn't willing to breach that gap and touch his mind. To do so might destroy everything that was tenuously hanging in the balance now, with the simplest violation of privacy. He was tempted, sorely tempted, to just do it and to hell with his feelings about it. The curiosity had almost gotten the better of him once before. It wasn't as simple as just inserting his voice into someone's head, he'd be using them as a human filing cabinet, rifling through their thoughts, emotions and memories, capable of analyzing them like any standard document. It just...wasn't right. It was incredibly intimate, in a way, and not his intent to interrogate Dal the way he had with suspects and prisoners in the past. "So...?" It popped out before he'd really thought it through, his deep seated anger, always held barely in check and masked with layers of chilly snide humor getting the better of him. "I'm not most people. Try me." He was aware that Dal knew of his talents, just as he was aware that the Pooka could become intangible, or turn into a big-ass horse. He didn't really know that much about him though, but again the hesitancy for privacy imposed on him, made him tread uncertain ground. Was it okay to ask? It hadn't bothered him before, but then he wasn't good at making friends really, only the odd work colleague and it was unusual to allow one another into their private lives. The scowl worked its way back onto his face as Dal turned to leave, clawed fingers snagging on the Pooka's robe as he bunched a fist at his hip and dragged back on it. He'd only have to go intangible of course and it would just drift through his fingers like lho smoke. There was nothing he could actively do to stop him, bar starting a fight by commanding him to stay. "So that's it, you're just gonna turn your back on me? Run away like a...a coward. That it?" He tightened his grip on the soft fabric, yanking Dal back around, glowering. "I expected something of you, but not this. You're behaving like a kicked dog!" He unclenched his hand, let it drop, gaze fixed on the wrinkles he'd made in it, shook his head. "I'm disappointed. I don't know, maybe I was wrong, maybe I overestimated you. I didn't expect you to just...keep running away. I thought you were better than that." He almost laughed then, felt it building wildly in his throat. This was the inquisition, a collection of the broken and the damned, one step away from being nothing but criminals for some of them. A collection of busted and ruined things that couldn't function in any other role, all gathered up under the rule of one man. "You know what, you..." He bit down on his tongue, tasted blood, and anchored himself to reality, cutting short the sharp retort that was about to leak out. "Nevermind. I'm not unaware of how awkward this is. However...I'll leave you an open offer. If you choose to grow a backbone, I'll be in the Cactus later. If not...well that's your loss. I'm not gonna beg for your divine attentions." With that he whirled, coat flaring dramatically about him and stalked away without another look back, hurling the box of biscuits to the ground halfway down the street. It made him feel a little better, but not much. - Light chatter, quiet in the small interior floated across the room. It wasn't heavily occupied, a trio occupied one corner conversing in low tones and nursing their drinks, a rowdier pair seated more central were cracking jokes. A game of dice was going on by the hearth, the sound of the bones clicking on the board grinding his nerves. The teifling hunched over the bar, knees drawn up tight on the stool, his presence having urged the other occupants to back off. Or maybe it was his mood, foul and dark as his skin. It hadn't been a good day. He'd, perhaps unsurprisingly been distracted by his thoughts, had let a suspect get away, and caught in a scuffle with the wrong target in the middle of a souk, then nearly trampled. Naturally, he ached, and his temper was frayed, so he sat alone, two glasses before him, one empty, one full. They scraped on the counter as he turned them slowly in his fingers, then ordered the empty to be refilled. It would take more than he liked to fill the hole, always did. It never seemed to matter how much he poured into it but it was always too deep to really drown anything in there. Every now and then he glanced towards the door, as if waiting for someone. Every time he hunched his shoulders in, ground his teeth and downed the shot. The name was good, suited the prickly inquisitor and his shitty mood just fine. It was also small, less busy, and darker, being off the main streets. The local clientele didn't mind the odd inquisitor stopping in, though warily enough. One could never tell. "Waiting for someone?" "No." "Y'sure look like you're waiting for someone." Sabe lifted his head, glared at the bartender, who hastily returned to scrubbing at the bar with a dirty rag, making it worse. After a moment he muttered; "Not officially." The man looked like he might ask, then shrugged more to himself than anything and refilled the glass again when it was thrust out towards him. "Sorry." "So am I." |
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| Dalbhack | Jan 12 2015, 10:27 AM Post #9 |
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“No you are not, perhaps that is why things are the way they are,” said the Pooka turning a bit to glance back over his shoulder at Sabe. Perhaps if the Teifling had been human or just Drow then he would not have developed these feelings. The desire to care about someone other than himself could have stemmed from the fact that Sabe was something of a monster himself. Though it was probably best for the rest of the world if monsters did not intermingle, but what if two monsters made a normal creature? It was unlikely, but it was also possible. Sabe seemed to know things about fitting in that the Pooka did not, though Dal was nowhere near coming to terms with the desire to fit in. He just wanted to fit in with one person, in a manner of speaking, which was the only thing that mattered right now. One monster seeking acceptance from another. Their morals were indeed different from other people. They were the inquisition, and the inquisition was law. Basically. For them that meant they shared a similar moral compass as Orion. It meant they were willing to do things others found most foul. Murder, was little more than the shrug of the shoulders. Torture, was like a stroll along the beach. Just to name a few morally corrupt things they did on a nearly daily basis. Dal did not go intangible at the grab; awkwardly he had wanted the other to stop him from leaving. It was awkward, because the Pooka was still very much in denial about his feelings so the grab sparked a bit of anger in him as he turned to face Sabe once more. A scowl tugging at his features as he narrowed his eyes as the teifling spoke. When Sabe turned the Pooka made claw like hands at his departing figure and rolled his eyes in silent anger. It hadn’t been like he had been running, just that he had expected the other to want a day or so to process the apology and avoid making things even more awkward. But if the teifling wished to throw a fit first and then deal with this, whatever this was, in the same day so be it. The Pooka was done playing this game of hide and go seek, or hide and hide as they case had been for the two of them. “Be lucky I decided not to murder you in your sleep and came here instead,” muttered the Pooka finally deciding to make an appearance at the bar. Of course unlike Sabe, Dal was not received with the same sort of shrug off. People did not expect the ghostly inquisitor to show up at any sort of establishment without having some nefarious intention. Why should they? The Pooka had never stepped into a place without intent to shut it down or arrest a person within. This passive streak was an unnerving thing to bear witness to if one was a normal member of Ashokan society. First the brothel now this bar, certainly by now word would start spreading. Not that anyone would try to press their luck with Dal, as he was still just as active in his duties as before. Just it was now not a guaranteed thing that he entered a place with intent to cause havoc. |
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| Sabellius | Feb 1 2015, 01:36 PM Post #10 |
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"Like you'd stand half a chance at even catching me sleeping." Sabe tilted the glass in one quick jerk of his wrist, sending the liquid burning a trail from throat to stomach, just like that. Gods knew he tried where sleeping was concerned. It wasn't that he was afraid, no, not that. Not of his own dreams, though they were often disturbing and full of meaningless symbology that smashed against his mind like so much shattered glass. He'd always had issues with sleeping, and small wonder, when it was caught in exhausted snatches, always watching for something that was going to try to stamp on his neck, or slide a blade lovingly between his ribs. Less so since he came to Ashoka. At least until he started stirring up the local gangs anyway. Some nights he didn't even return home, took to sleeping in the join between roofs, or under old stacking crates in drover's yards, finding abandoned buildings where people wouldn't dare to venture for their safety. If he didn't have a place of his own, anyone might think he was some kind of vagrant. Perhaps he was, in a way. Moving on every few years, never really settling, until now. And now he couldn't leave, even if he wanted to, even if he felt it might be easier to do so. He'd forgotten how, clipped his own wings and jumped ship. He supposed he could always up and vanish, go somewhere detached and isolated, like Daro. But how long before trouble came looking for him again? He'd moved before, looking for peace, and still hadn't managed to find it. Maybe he was one of those, who was never meant to have it, for the chaos in his heart left all unbalanced behind him anyway. "You might have a chance if I get drunk enough." He frowned at the empty glass, then tapped it twice on the bar until it was refilled. "Just like magic." He muttered, and stopped with it halfway to his lips, swiveling to actually look at the Pooka. "Why aren't you drinking?" He motioned at the still-full glass sitting on the bar before his...friend, enemy? Frenemy, that was the damned word. "Here, I'll drink with you. That was the point." He took a moment to remove his shades, tucking them within his coat, and then removed that too, laying it neatly across the stool beside him. He might have said that they were off duty, but though better of it. There wasn't any point in kidding themselves, an Inquisitor was never really off duty. "A toast, to our esteemed Moghul, may he continue torturing the innocent for a thousand years!" Heads ducked around the bar, unwilling to acknowledge the bitter sarcasm, to get involved with him. They knew what happened to those who might try to mention it to other Inquisitors, knew what to expect of him. It wasn't like he came here every evening but he was pretty good at turning up frequently and getting smashed for whatever reasons. Wouldn't be the first time if someone took offence to what he said and beat the shit out of him either. Perhaps he was inviting it. At least if he was drunk they'd stand a chance. The thought was horribly sobering, and dark, too dark for the now. He drank, burned it away with the liquor, and forgot, watching Dal and trying to gauge without touching his mind, just what he thought about it. Edited by Sabellius, Feb 1 2015, 01:37 PM.
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| Dalbhack | Feb 10 2015, 10:25 AM Post #11 |
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“True, I’d just have to work around that then,” the Pooka mused more to himself than to Sabe. For a moment he had forgotten how rare a feat it was to find the Teifling sleeping. Actually he wasn’t sure the other slept at all, not that it really mattered to him, though it did make intruding upon nightmares a touch more tricky. Of course not everyone had nightmares while sleeping, but it was probably for the best that Dal didn’t have any real intention upon causing that kind of harm. Sabe’s nightmares were probably bad enough without the Pooka’s interference. With the story Sabe had told of his love Dal was very hesitant to even tread said nightmares, though he could ease them it was not something he was known for. But maybe it was not the nightmares that kept the Teifling from sleep, not that the Pooka could sympathize there. If he wished to find a place safe from anyone else it was just a matter of slipping into a room with no windows or walls, the perks of being ghostly one could say. So of course his mind had only come to the conclusion that Sabe’s lack of sleep was due to whatever dreams may come and not for any physical reasoning. “Charming,” muttered Dal giving a roll of his eyes but holding back on the snark of asking Sabe if he really wanted to die inviting murder in such a fashion. Perhaps when they had first met such an invitation wouldn’t have been met with anything more than a dismissive snort, possibly even taking the Teifling up on said offer. But now the furthest thing from his mind, except perhaps when aggravated with Sabe, was to murder him in his sleep. Things changed, awkwardly in the Pooka’s case. Dal at least managed to take a seat on a stool though still seemed rather reluctant to drink. Last time he had even had a little taste of the burning liquid he’d ended up alone in a room with a hooker; the memory was still a hazy blur and he could not recall all that had transpired. Still a virgin, piped the voice in his head; though why that mattered to him was a mystery. Sometimes he wondered just what the voice was trying to get at when it wasn’t trying to tear him down and remind him that he was a monster. “I don’t...” he started before heaving a sigh and rolling his eyes at the drunken toast, he assumed drunken as Sabe seemed pretty out of it, “fine.” Knocking back the liquid he cringed and his shoulders twitched a little. Why anyone wanted that kind of feeling knocking down from their throat to their gut was beyond him and the after affects weren’t much better. It made his head swim a bit like running around in a circle a few times. Mostly unpleasant. “You’re stupid,” said Dal in his usual precursor to trying to say anything of meaning to the other inquisitor, “What are we even doing here?” |
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| Sabellius | Feb 21 2015, 11:31 AM Post #12 |
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A slash of wet redness opened in his face, flicker of silent white teeth as he grinned. He'd enjoy the challenge, if the Pooka meant it. Or maybe he'd just enjoy finding that he was bold enough to enter his bedchambers unannounced. Admittedly, he'd thought about it before, his mind swinging back to that night, the slick chill of the rain on his skin, dull roaring in his battered ears, only whiteness to his eyes, and the gentlest of most hesitant lips on his. He'd not touched back on it much, bar the handful of times, sat in his study on the rickety chair, rocking back until the wood clacked on the wall. What had it meant, if it meant anything? All their flippant insults and snarky attitude, the baiting and then the coldly jolting nerve struck again and again when one or other of the insults slipped through the crack in the defense...he'd always thought that his rival Inquisitor had considered him the same way. Only in the last few weeks had that changed. A lot had changed, his perception skewed wildly off base. Part of him wanted, longed to see that sliding shadow, peeling from the wall with blade in hand. Yet he knew he'd fight back. Why wouldn't he? Even when the majority of him was lucid, drugged, aching for a sweet release, the beast in him would not allow such. Survival was key. Just as a man drowning himself would instinctively struggle to reach the air, he knew he'd fight himself. It was an eternal battle, one that he often wondered when the end would come of it, whether he should just give in... "Naila's teats, you'd think you'd never touched a bottle before." He watched Dal cringe, forcing himself to swallow the liquor, with just a touch of scorn. For all the image that he'd built for himself, he found it hard to believe he was...innocent. It had been difficult to throw off the prejudice that he'd grown up with when it came to the Pooka. His people had been driven underground at the hands of the others, but years wandering in Dreams had left him doubting that too. They came in all colours, and he'd never been there, so who was he to argue? Having seen the casual violence that the Pooka could bring to others, he could believe it, but they weren't all the same. The fae were just as diverse as any species. Perhaps he hadn't thrown off all the prejudice. The thought that he was a shameless racist had him chuckling into his glass as it was refilled. Wouldn't that be horribly ironic? Well, it was said that those who had such things visited upon them were want to carry it further yet, to others beyond. "I know." He tilted the glass this way and that, watching the liquid slosh around inside its prison, not unlike his muzzy thoughts. He'd managed to consume a fair amount before Dal had even arrived, had to if he was to get anywhere. His metabolism was awfully fast, burned through it like it did the drugs, left him perpetually hungry. "Forgetting. Commiserating? I don't know, what do you want to do? You don't drink, you don't fuck..?" He left the last an open ended question, since he'd never seen him enter a brothel with his own eyes, never seen him spend time with anyone but Orion. "So...what do you do? There has to be something other than work. Oh, wait, I know, let's play twenty questions! If I'm right, you drink. If I'm wrong, I'll drink." Drink forgotten for the moment, he adjusted his seating until he was facing Dal, elbow leaning against the bar. "I've never seen a woman's delicates and wouldn't dream of setting my dainty toes over the threshhold of a brothel." He watched with the hint of a smirk for the reaction, unable to simply not taunt him in whichever small way he might be able to get away with. |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 23 2015, 08:14 AM Post #13 |
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Trigger Warning What did he want to do? Did he even know the answer to that? His own mind was so closed off to any flights of fancy that a normal person might have. It was a wonder he could even function. He practically embodied the saying all work and no play. Minus the being dull part; he made up for that by being so frighteningly casual in his violence. Did that even bring him any joy? To a degree it certainly did. As for what he did in his free time, nothing really, if he wasn’t working there was little he engaged in. Well there were a handful of things. Running for one, but only while in his horse form, it was oddly liberating. The other thing he did was haunt the nightmares of children, occasionally adults but children were far more creative in their fears. As for things he didn’t do, as Sabe had already listed, he didn’t drink and he didn’t fuck. The latter really being something that had never really crossed his mind. The Pooka just wasn’t interested in the activity, at least not when presented with it. The girl at the brothel hadn’t really stirred anything in him aside from an extreme awkwardness that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with his social behavior. Now replace that girl with Sabe and things would have gone in a completely different direction particularly with his mind fogged with the opiates and the burn of liquor still in his stomach. There was a little voice in the back of his head that had been awakened by that one drink thus far that said that what the Pooka really wanted to do was jump Sabe’s bones. Not that he would ever admit it, at least not without being completely wasted. Dainty toes really? For some reason that irked the Pooka more than anything else the Teifling had said. Sure he didn’t like to walk, and often preferred not to put his feet in shoes but that didn’t mean his toes were dainty. Although in all actuality they probably were, just like his fingers despite generally being concealed in heavy metal gauntlets were actually rather spindly and thin. Now that one mentioned it they could probably argue that over all Dal’s appearance was one of a more delicate nature despite his violent tendencies. Dal was a wispy little twat with the strength and attitude often more fitting a brutish individual. The only real explanation for it was his fae heritage, that and he did often gloss over his own cunning. He could be cunning if he wanted to, be more devious if it suited him, more subtle; but it just wasn’t as fun as punching someone in the face or scaring the wits out of someone with displays of violence. So yeah maybe having his toes called dainty was bothersome. “Drink,” said Dal tilting his head at Sabe while a smirk threatened his lips. Sure he could have been more embarrassed by the implications but to be honest the thought of Sabe being caught off guard by the Pooka’s admittal to such acts outweighed whatever else his mind might conjure. Of course why he had seen a woman’s delicates and why he entered brothels at all would certainly disappoint the teifling greatly. The Fae found some sport in ruining other’s fun and shutting down brothels for real and imagined slights just happened to be one of his favorite pastimes, this of course led to the unappealing view of women’s undergarments, as well as men’s. Why Sabe was any different than the general populace of men was beyond the Pooka’s scope of comprehension. Edited by Dalbhack, Feb 23 2015, 08:14 AM.
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| Sabellius | Feb 23 2015, 05:43 PM Post #14 |
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"Really." The Cambion's eyes narrowed, one brow creeping up towards his hairline. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dal, that was a given. There could be a number of reasons that he might lie, either to get him drunk or just to shrug off an insult...but if it was the former, well he was well on his way there anyway, and the latter didn't really add up. He tended to either turn away or respond with cold snide words of his own, from his experience. Whatever the reason, he narrowed his eyes, then knocked back the shot, clinking the glass noisily on the bar for a refill. His eyes followed as one of the patrons left, then wandered back to Dal. "And here I didn't think you had it in you. Or maybe I should say she had you in her?" Despite the deadpan joke, he couldn't find that the mental image wanted to coalesce. He just couldn't picture Dal tangled up and sweating with...well, anyone actually. Not just the female disposition. It was difficult to imagine the Pooka forming any kind of real emotional connection to anyone when he always came across so chilly and dispassionate. Give him five minutes alone with him and he'd bet he could tease some heat into his cheeks. Sabe smirked, settling back on his bar stool and motioned towards him with his drink, almost sloshing it over his wrist in the process. "Don't you wanna ask me a question? What?" He reached cautiously forward with his mind, spanning the distance between them, almost recoiled at what he detected there, then peered with curiosity at the forefront of his mind. A girl? She looked like some base hooker, not one that he knew either. For someone who enjoyed deliberately shutting down the brothels, he sure was a hippocrit. It was probably only through his intervention that certain files and evidence went missing that The Goodnight Kiss was still open. It was hardly under the hat when it came to the free dealings of drugs, sex and alcohol there, as well as this courier business. What could he say? He liked women with more than two hands. Made him feel a little more normal. "What's her name? Mm...nevermind. I don't really care enough to know." He retreated again within himself, the tether snapping back and leaving him feel...too full, again. It was always so when he contained himself to his own head. Eventually he'd start branching out again. It was difficult enough to shut himself down when he was sober, drunk, it was impossible. He couldn't begin to imagine how lonely it must be if he could suddenly no longer do it, stranded inside himself without the means to read others the way he did. What was the word? Ah yes. Desolate. "If you're not gonna give me a statement, then I'll go again." Sabe thought a moment, tilting his glass this way and that and watching the light dance on the fluid within. "I have a raging boner for my work companion but I'm too craven to admit it." His gaze flicked up beneath pale lashes, sly, almost wanton. |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 23 2015, 06:17 PM Post #15 |
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"Don't let your imagination get the better of you," scoffed the Pooka frowning at the other's crude question. Of course he hadn't done more than look, the girl had done more touching than he had. The only touching he had really done had been to keep her at bay or keep himself from toppling backwards. So the thought of actually being 'in her' as Sabe had so crudely put it was a vile one that sent a shiver of disgust down the Pooka's spine. Let the other males of the world do what they would with such a creature he'd be having none of it. Honestly Sabe didn't have to have a moment alone with the Pooka to get Dal hot and bothered if he'd say the right thing. Of course it was more likely to land the teifling square on his ass though. Alone, might end up being quite near deadly. Though secretly the Pooka had some imagining of what they could do if truly alone. Of course in that moment following the jab about him with the girl in the brothel such thoughts were displaced by Dal's disgust of hookers and brothels. Irrational disgust? Maybe, or maybe just normal for someone with no outward interest in others. "Like I remember," snorted the Pooka, "and it wasn't like that either. I'm not you." He had caught on vaguely to the mild mind invasion but only after Sabe had said something. If the teifling hadn't made mention of it then Dal would have been blissfully unawares of the invasion of privacy. It wasn't a moment he wished to revisit, mainly because at the root of it was Sabe. He'd gone to the brothel out of curiosity of Sabe's behavior with drugs, alcohol and sex. Of course none of it had really made any sense to the Pooka and he still didn't get why it interested his fellow inquisitor. Dal's brows shot up and a flash of color entered his cheeks before he could mask his shock and embarrassment with anger. "Y-you wish!" he hissed while using a foot to sweep the bar stool out from under Sabe. Maybe it was the first drink, or perhaps just wanting to finally get it out there in the open but while Sabe was hopefully reeling on the floor Dal took the shot with another shudder of disdain. "If you want me to return these stupid statements here's one: I have sex with hookers because I can't connect with people normally." |
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| Sabellius | Feb 23 2015, 06:56 PM Post #16 |
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"Aw, I always thought my imagination was the best part." Actually it bothered him. He wasn't about to openly admit it, but it was just wrong to think that Dal might have been copulating in a whorehouse with some common slattern. No, it just wasn't right. He didn't seem the type, had never once turned his head at the sight of someone else in their skin, unless they were threatening him in some way. Not for all the time they put into working together had he noticed such. Though perhaps that might be put down to him being inattentive. Truly, he couldn't think of a single time they'd done much of anything together that didn't require them to kick someone's ass. Taunting and baiting one another in the office didn't count either, like the time Dal had pushed him down the winding flight of stairs in Orionopolis. He'd probably deserved it, couldn't really speak out against it, since he didn't recall much of it, but for the weightless sensation, then pain cracking over shoulders, back and legs as he tumbled, and the disconsolate loss of his booze on the flagstones. "Lucky you." He muttered the last, his face descending into a thoughtful frown as he chewed on that. What did he mean exactly? Did everyone see him as some kind of...whore? Nothing different from how it used to be then, if that's the case... "Roses and wine? Did you court her and read her poetry about the moon and lilies floating on a pond or some crap?" The retort was only half hearted though, a wounded creature lashing out to keep him at bay. That was all they were really...two wounded animals, too busy clawing at one another and alternately licking their wounds to really look at one another, or themselves. The teifling's mouth cracked open, a glimpse a sharp white teeth in his dark face, pulling up into a wet red slash of a smile. His gloating never got time to really take flight though, even as he raised a hand to point at the Pooka, there was suddenly no balance. His tail curled about one of the legs of the stool clung on, but was easily swept aside, flinging him to the floor with a clatter of wood. The world seemed to slow as he did, shoulders connecting hard, one hand outstretched even as the other rose to catch the glass, hurtling back down from the ceiling where he'd thrown it. How lucky to have caught it! His dazed expression turned to a grin of sheer delight as his fingers closed around cool glass, then the liquid dribbled down his wrist. "Bollocks." Raising himself up, Sabe sat on the floor perplexed, ignored the eyes on him and began to run his tongue up the length of his forearm, catching the last of the alcohol. His eyes lifted quickly enough to Dal when he spoke, dropped his hands onto his raised knees and stared at him with an intensity that suggested were he any other, he might just be a sloppy brutalized mess all over the walls. "Drink." After a moment he got to his feet, snappishly uprighting the stool, then thinking better of it, leaned against the bar instead. "I do sleep with whores...because at least if I pay them, they know I'll come back. Sleep and sex are not the same thing, however. Barkeep, Master Scathach has an empty glass. Perhaps you ought to refill it so he can drink to this one as well." He rolled the glass on the counter, then slammed his palm down hard, making it jump, as well as the man behind the bar. "Maybe you'd understand if you'd ever even had a connection, normal or otherwise." He immediately regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, drawing in his breath and holding it there until he thought his lungs would burst, then loosing it slowly from his nose. Gods but he wished he'd never even invited Dal to drink with him. It was like being off the lho, but at least the lho if he said something like that he intended for it to sting, because he was genuinely being an asshole. Now he struggled to think without even speaking. A few more and he'd likely be finishing other people's sentences for them halfway through, creeping them out and pushing them away again. |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 23 2015, 07:32 PM Post #17 |
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Great of course he had to take another drink after just having choked one down. Venom wasn't always correct it seemed, though the Pooka was skeptical that the Teifling didn't have sex with hookers. Although he had pretty much learned as much from his visit to the brothel, it still didn't seem like it was possible. Or perhaps it was the part about connecting that blew the Pooka's disbelieving horn. Whatever it was he snorted slightly at Sabe and took his drink as soon as the glass was full again. Not that it would be empty much longer as Sabe called for the barkeep to fill it again in anticipation of the next stinging remark. Begrudgingly, though without much protest he took the drink though the bile of rising anger was there. "Maybe I don't want to connect," slurred the Pooka as seriously as he could despite the swimming sensation in his head and that awful burning in his stomach. It did not take much for him to be particularly indisposed by liquor. Four seemed a good limit, indeed. Not really thinking the action through the Pooka stood, surprisingly not falling flat on his ass as he turned to face Sabe and stab an accusing finger at him. "Yer disgusting and I want to kiss you," the Pooka snorted and rolled his eyes, "there you go, you happy, I've gone and disgusted myself." Dal huffed and took in a breath holding it for a moment as if trying to stop the hiccups, which hadn't even started and probably never would, but better safe than sorry. Though on top of that admission and affirmation of being disgusted was thinly veiled anger over the whole ordeal. Now he would have liked nothing better than to bail on this entire evening. Actually he'd rather not have had it happen at all, just erase the whole thing. "I rather like my house covered in sheets and haunted by a creepy old man than to uncover the past and move on!" Dal accused continuing the onslaught of barbs they seemed to be flinging at each other. Subconsciously it dawned on him that they were doing this to cover their own insecurities. Rather than face themselves they pried at the other, pulling and picking at scars and scabs. Dal's feet picked up off the ground as he went in to float mode and he blinked dully at Sabe. He hadn't meant what he'd said, or had he? It was so hard to tell these days. It would be so much simpler if he could admit outloud that the only person he had ever wanted to actually connect to was Sabe, instead of trying to tear the other down. Though right now he kind of just wanted to collapse and close his eyes against the effects of the alcohol. "Sabe...I don't think I like alcohol," muttered the Pooka in an awkwardly calm voice before kind of face-planting against the other's chest and lightly draping his arms around the other inquisitor. "Take us away from here. I want to be alone with you." |
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| Sabellius | Feb 23 2015, 08:15 PM Post #18 |
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"I don't believe you. You'll just...become a really old, bitter fart. And you'll shrivel, just like a skinny prune. You..fart." His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he squinted at the Pooka, trying to figure out which one was the real one. They were equally as long-faced and annoyingly pretty and both of them seemed to be taunting him. His fingers curled ever tighter, possessively about the glass, and slung the contents back, punching into his throat again. It didn't diminish the sensation that his tongue had turned into a dry sponge that rasped against the roof of his mouth, made his throat crackle with dryness. He laughed, or thought he did, but it came out more as a hoarse wheeze. It only got worse when he thought about the connection with the other inquisitor, mixing hoarse for horse. At least one of them was a pony. "Well maybe you should, get it outta yer system." He snorted, released the glass finally, some sacred treasure that he was loathe to let go of, his only lifeline to the present. "D'awww why so angry, baby? You should disgust yourself more often Sc...sppt...you. Scathach. Yeah." He couldn't even make that one sound like an insult, the anger dwindling away in the face of drunken moroseness, of the weaving pair of fae inquisitors accusing him of some sort of deliberate defilement. Had he been holding the glass still he might have thrown it at those words. It was a little too close to home for his liking, and not even because it was about, literally, his home. He raised one finger imperiously, frowning as he chose the words carefully. "The Housekeeper is not a creepy old man, it's...well...it's...well it's not....uh...you know I really dun wanna talk about The Housekeeper. Gives me the heebie jeebies." He blinked, desperately trying to pull his thoughts back from the thought of bulbous eyes, illuminated in the quiet darkness of his room, the wet breathing that only came from having a lung full of fluid and a sound like someone slapping at the window with a curtain made of living tissue. Nope. Do Not Enter. Hazard. Warning. "Well at least I don't live in my office." Sabe licked his lips, and reached for his coat, pulling it on over bare arms even as Dal did that thing that was so...easy, yet infuriating at times. Mostly he thought because he might be kind of jealous. It must be nice to be lighter than air, and just float insubstantially at times. "You are so drunk, if they dropped you in a water tower, you'd pickle the locals." He turned, catching the warmth of the fae squashing into his chest, and automatically bringing his arms up to hold him steady. Maybe it hadn't been such a grand idea. The last thing he wanted was to have to hold Dal's hair while he vomited noisily into a gutter. Defeat washed over him wearily then. They ought to just call it a damned truce for now, and swallowing against the tremor that threatened to cause his own stomach to overturn, he supported his fellow inquisitor. It took him a couple of minutes to fish for coins in his pockets, tried to count them out but the numbers kept squiggling and coming out of his mouth in a jumble of binary. Defeated, he decided he didn't in fact give a shit, and dropped approximately the value of thirty or so drinks onto the counter before staggering out with Dal. "Come on Princess, I'll take thee home." Home happened to be Orionopolis apparently, as his usually wolfish loping gait, turned unsteady and lurching as a leper half dragged the pair there. He didn't know whether Dal actually did pretty much live in his office, but it seemed a good enough place to be. It was quiet at this time of night, with few people wandering about, the stones still warm to the touch with the fading heat of the day. Strange that he should have come this way when... "I hate this place." He hadn't meant to say it out loud but the mutter trickled from him, and he growled quietly in frustration at his own ineptness. It was both what he wanted, and what he did not. It took some marvelous skill to get up the stairs without actually falling down them even once, though there were a couple of close calls, until they stood outside Dal's office. Sabe leaned his forehead against the wall, cool, calming, and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd just stay here like this for a while. Getting back down the stairs in his current state was going to be a bloody nightmare, but hey, at least he mended fast? "This was a shit date, we should do it again some time. Gonna invite me in for coffee?" |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 24 2015, 05:40 AM Post #19 |
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Dal snorted a bit as Sabe lost the ability to insult him with names other than fart. He wasn’t sure why but it was immensely amusing to be called a fart. Perhaps the drink had made him immature, not that one would say the two inquisitors were mature while sober. They were probably the most immature out of the lot, although they were also the most violent or at least Dal was. Sometimes creatively violent, and not just with physical pain, he did his fair share of psychologically scaring people; though that was hardly his forte. “Oh look you can pronounce my name while drunk, that’s a handy trick,” muttered Dal eyeing Sabe with mild disdain. Mostly because of the teasing than at the other’s inability to usually say his name right. Good luck getting someone to pronounce his first name either, though it was considerably easier. He had come to accept the shortened Dal, even if it was not pronounced like the first part of his name should have been. Dal gave a small laugh as Sabe brought up how his housekeeper gave him the heebie jeebies, was that even possible? Then again Dal didn’t blame the teifling, even if he’d never seen the housekeeper himself he was aware of his existence and there was an odd feeling about Sabe’s house as if someone were always watching. Not in the creepy perverted way but in the you better not stain anything way. The Pooka was certain the wetness from that one night had put him on the housekeeper’s permanent shit list. “So?” muttered Dal not denying that he pretty much did live where he worked. “They’d probably be better pickled,” said the Pooka running a tongue over his teeth as he gave it some thought before shaking his head. He didn’t eat people, usually, though he was something of a vampire and the thought of pickled blood sent his stomach churning unpleasantly. For once Dal didn’t protest being called a princess, just gave a snort of defiance lifting his head to stare at Sabe pointedly. The Pooka was surprisingly easy to drag, because floating made him considerably lighter. His arms draped about Sabe’s shoulders and he drifted behind the teifling like a cape. Of course his hands didn’t stay there, Dal seemed a bit more open now that he was pretty plastered and maybe one hand found its way to Sabe’s hip. Placing his head on Sabe’s shoulder with a somewhat exhausted sigh he appeared to be unawares of his roaming hand which seemed to have every intention of playing where it didn’t belong. “It’s just a place, you shouldn’t hate places,” muttered a quite drunken Pooka. One they reached his office Dal let Sabe go so he could at least open the door to the cluttered mess. “Coffee? I don’t drink coffee and why would I even have coffee? Is this one of those things that actually means something else?” asked Dal finding a dull throbbing starting in his head as he thought about it too much, “do you want to come in? Is that what it means? I can’t see why, it’s just an office.” Dal reached out having meant to only lightly pat the other on the shoulder but instead even floating he found he slipped a bit and instead grabbed the front of Sabe’s shirt. At least they didn’t bump heads, though they came perilously close. “Sabe, why do you make me feel?” asked the Pooka in a very hushed tone as if the whole world might hear him if he spoke any louder. But forget waiting for the teifling to answer, being so close to the other’s lips just invited the drunken Pooka to act on impulse and for the second time kiss the man that usually drove him insane. |
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| Sabellius | Feb 24 2015, 06:30 PM Post #20 |
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Sabe wasn't going to argue with Dal about the pickling. Most of the locals were disgruntled for one reason or another, pickling them would probably only improve them at this point. If it wasn't discontent fearfully whispered behind closed doors after nightfall, it was the nervous shifting of eyes with too much white showing, the glint of arms in the sun, held in the hands of patrolling guards. They should have felt safe with all the security, really, but with a mad dog on the throne, who could tell when those he employed might turn on everyone around them. They said madness was infectious. He was more inclined to believe that it was just fear. It hadn't been this way before their beloved Moghul came along, but you learned to swim with the tide, because like any strong wave rolling up the beach, you threw yourself into it, you surfaced on the other side, alive, breathing. If you didn't, you were flotsam that smashed down even as the waves crumbled to surf, the jetsam that dragged other hapless individuals down with you. He pushed his ugly thoughts away with a sigh, then bent his head to the task of getting his friend home. When had it really become friend, he wondered. He supposed that was what they were, even under all the vitriol they spat at one another. It didn't look like they had anyone else, so why not cling together. "Why not? Places can be just as unwelcome as people. Just as threatening, or..or foreboding." He couldn't explain why the sight of the building had always put him on edge, even before Orion's coming. Perhaps it was some dark portent of worse times to come. He wouldn't be surprised. It was though, just a feeling. "It..." He raised his head from the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating whether to explain the phrase. It was difficult to collect his thoughts together, like trying to trap bees with a hat made of gossamer mesh, watching them escape through all the little holes. "It's just a turn of phrase. Nevermind." He eased away from the frame of the door and exhaled softly, a brief dizzy euphoria washing over him that told him he needed to smoke, and soon. Preferably before the shaking started, and the snappishness. "Steady. Next time it'll be you rolling down the staircase." It wasn't uncomfortable being so close to Dal, seeing the gentle melancholy slope to his lips, the way his eyelids fell heavily with each blink, lashes dusting his lids. At least, not in the way that was uncomfortable were he entirely sober. It wasn't helping his reputation any, giving into such urges after having been accused of sleeping with whores already. Did everyone still think him that loose? The thought was fleeting, torn away on an indrawn breath as he tensed, about to fling Dal from him entirely. Instead he found himself slowly folding him in his arms, the tentative kiss held for a moment before it was broken, lingered there, watching him from lowered lids. "I make a point of not getting involved with colleagues. So..." He glanced along the corridor, near silent as it was, one brow rising, his hands closing about the Pooka's wrists as he guided him backwards into the room, and kicked the door shut with a loud clap, even as he bent to kiss him again. He released his hands, allowing his own to settle on the shorter man's narrow waist, lost in the sudden wanton urgency, the ferocity, until his hips knocked against the desk, sending it scraping painfully across the polished floor with the careless impact. Softly the laugh spilled from his lips, breathed into a sharp, pointed ear. He leaned into him, the desk complaining again as it shifted with their combined weight pressed against it, drew his teeth over his ear, fingers questing in silence, drifting lower to grip his backside, then inched back to view his face, a slash of moonlight picking out the edge of his features in dull tarnished silver, noted the tension, the flush of heat in his face. "What?" |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 25 2015, 11:14 AM Post #21 |
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“And I make a point of not getting involved with anyone,” commented the Pooka. As for if Dal thought Sabe was loose, well the answer was yes. He did, there was little doubt in the Pooka’s mind that the teifling was akin to a sex addict, to add to his smoking and drinking. Did it bother him? Not particularly, it was just something he could tease Sabe about. Now if he were to get involved, as Sabe so put it, then the thought of Sabe being a loose individual might start to bother Dal. In fact a sober Dal would have stopped this obscenity right then and there, if he had not stopped it before it happened. On the other hand though his visit to the brothel had brought forth to light the fact that Sabe did not actually do the down and dirty with as many people as Dal had originally thought. Still he preferred to believe that the other did, for some reason it made keep his distance easier, especially when there was no booze involved. But as luck would have it booze had been involved. This caused the Pooka to be quite agreeable to backing in to his office, trying not to hold an amused school girl giggle in at the secrecy. If Dal remembered any of this in the morning he would certainly find such an urge to giggle as vomit worthy. Needless to say he couldn’t help the giddy feeling as Sabe kissed him again. He was never drinking again. Arms draping lazily over the teifling’s shoulders as they scooted silently across the room until they hit something solid. Elliciting a little oof from him as he turned his head to look for a moment at the offending furniture. Pale eyes turned back to Sabe tracing over the other’s features in the dark room. The short hairs on the back of his neck prickling at the feel of teeth over his ear and a soft sound of meek protest came from the Pooka. The heat flooding his face from the grip on his backside bringing a dizzying lightheadedness to him, that was mostly in part to the booze than from pleasurable acceptance. “What?” echoed Dal back in a dazed moment before shaking it off, “You make me feel things I don’t understand. Not sure I want to.” A light touch ran along Sabe’s cheek as the Pooka pressed up against him, there was no hiding one of those feelings in that moment. |
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| Sabellius | Feb 25 2015, 03:43 PM Post #22 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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He'd noticed. How could he not? Not even in some sort of romantically interested way, but the Pooka kept everything to a professional standard, if you overlooked the griping, insulting attitude that he doled out by the handful to all and sundry. It was frankly confusing that there wasn't more, no real differing undertone as so many offered their social masks. He was frankly honest, and it wouldn't have been the first time that Sabe had considered Dal would get into trouble for his tongue. Would he go running to his aid if he did? That was an uncomfortable question in itself. He didn't know where they stood exactly, didn't want to think about it too hard right now unless he sprained something. "You wanted to be alone with me. I doubt it was to exchange pleasantries on the weather." The sudden activity had him looking a tad ruffled, coat hanging off one shoulder, hair falling from the ties that held it away from his shoulders until it was whisping in his face. A smirk cracked through the glaze of drink, one corner of his mouth curling up wryly at Dal's words. "Oh, really? And how do you know you don't want to feel anything without the experience first?" His eyes narrowed a touch, then turned his attentions to nuzzling his nose against the side of the shorter man's jaw. "You're standing to attention, does that make me your superior in force?" To be fair, he wasn't exactly unresponsive himself. Until the point where he'd been stepping on air, content to hurl his body into oblivion and see where it went, he'd never cottoned onto the fact that Dal was even interested in the sense that was more than a passing glance. But then, he'd always viewed him as something of a rival from day one. It was hard to look past that, when you'd managed to ingrain it into yourself so strongly. After a moment he pulled away, increased the distance between them by a foot, until he was no longer literally bending Dal over his own desk and frisking him in turn. "If you don't want to feel, what do you want?" He felt the mood turning, morphing into something else and sighed, running his hands over his face in exasperation, then pulling the tie from his hair completely. It was no different to when Dal had come back home with him, and he could feel the same frustration curdling in his stomach, even as he fought to reign in his patience. "What do you want me to do? You want me to go? Talk to me." |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 25 2015, 04:34 PM Post #23 |
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There was no doubting that it was fortunate that the Pooka was drunk, else he would have punched Sabe five times over by now. For various reasons of course, though he was to blame for the initial kiss. Words usually ruffled the pooka's feathers enough for him to try and punch the teifling, particularly when they involved the hinting of particular physical activities. Why the idea of sex offended the Pooka when violent things such as stripping the flesh from a living victim barely crossed his mind as odd or wrong. Perhaps because the nightmares of children often did not involve such things at least not in great detail, though why more violent things then? They weren't particularly in the minds of children either. So it had to be more than just the nightmares of children that made the Pooka but also those of adults and adults certainly had fears involving sex. Nothing particularly made sense to Dal when he tried to think of them though. But perhaps it wasn't making sense of things but accepting them and using them, like he did with physical violence. How then would he react to some of Sabe's nightmares which might involve his mistress? Perhaps one day he might find out. "You don't want to test who is superior in force, remember who curb stomps people as a horse?" snorted the Pooka surprisingly not angry for a change at words that would have normally had him all up in arms and ready to punch Sabe's smug smirk right of that pretty face of his. It was hard not to get a scent off Sabe with how he rubbed his nose along Dal's jaw. Sure it was nine tenths alcohol but there was that small vampiric urge to taste the other's blood rising in the back of Dal's throat. Blood, magic and dreams were a bit like drugs to the Pooka, and like all other vices he kept them well under lock and key not bothering to partake in them. Something about being afraid of actually being a monster, not that it had ever bothered him before, but as of late it was a big deal. Dal frowned a little as Sabe pulled away his arms slowly sliding off the other's shoulders as he moved. The Pooka scooted back to actually sit on the desk and ran a hand through his long hair. Idly he rubbed one foot over the other as he blinked slowly trying to make some sense of the word through the haze of the alcohol. Flinching slightly at the questions and the demand to talk to him, Dal stared at his hands twisting them slightly in his lap. "I don't want you to go. I don't know what I want you to do!" Dal shouted in his own exasperation as he flopped back on his desk flinging his arms up as he did so. Of course this led to a rather loud thud as his head hit the wood. "Ow..." he whined closing his eyes trying to find something, anything to say, "I want...your blood, your nightmares, and your magic; curious as it is. Other than that I don't know, I told you I don't understand what it is that I am feeling. I don't like it, it's hot and..." Dal reached his hands up grasping at the air like it would help him come up with a description of how Sabe made him feel. Angry, it certainly made him feel angry but usually that started at the feeling in his stomach and the heat in his face then transferred over to Sabe out of frustration for not understanding what it meant. |
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| Sabellius | Feb 28 2015, 06:21 PM Post #24 |
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In all honesty, the tiefling wondered how the Pooka hadn't punched him already several times over. It would have made things interesting at any rate, a tussle that may have led to...other things. Naturally his mind leaned towards the lecherous options, likely not even just because of his inebriated state. "I bet I could toss a horse." He rolled his eyes half away, then flicked them back to the fae. "Er. You know I meant...pick up a horse and throw it. I've never..." He cleared his throat, actually a touch embarrassed, for once, heat flooding his cheeks. For all that he was a monstrous beast, he'd never stopped to consider quite literally rolling in hay playing farmyard. Sabe sighed, then took his time to root fruitlessly in a pocket for his lho sticks. Several more moments seemed to slide by like so much treacle, until he found the small silver case and flicked it open, removing one. He set it between his lips, located the match, then drew his coat from his shoulders and threw it over the back of one of the chairs. He leaned his hip against the desk and turned his attention to lighting up, uncaring whether Dal approved of the necessary habit or not. Some of the Inquisitors treated their offices like some kind of personal haven, a small shrine to themselves. He'd never bothered since he was more of a...in the field, type. Unless there was questioning to be done, which didn't require an office anyway. Personally he didn't give a damn, it was smoke or relinquish what control he had over himself. And it was far easier to accept when he was drunk, to boot. "You're pissed as a fart." He dragged on the cigarette, gaze sliding sideways to settle on the prone form of the Inquisitor, draped so invitingly across his own desk, blue smoke curling from the corners of his mouth. A faint chuckle strained between them as he shifted his weight from his hip back to the other leg, until the desk pressed into his lower back. "Do we need to have The Talk?" He settled the heel of his palms against the edge of the wood, tipping his head back and inhaling deeply, drawing it out as a sigh. "Okay, so...say you set your attentions on someone. You feel amorous towards them...are we actually doing this? You...wait..." His forehead crinkled in the start of a frown, lips parting as he reached for the lho, and swiveled to look over his shoulder at the Pooka. "You've never...? Come on man, you must have been aroused before." A wide toothy grin split his face, and he jiggled his hand in a lewd gesture. "Well. Widdle Dal has his first raging hard on. Colour me impressed." Click. Click. Girls. Click. Brothel? Nah. Click. Snap. "You're a virgin?" His brows rose, the toothy grin returning as his amusement surfaced once more. Edited by Sabellius, Feb 28 2015, 06:22 PM.
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| Dalbhack | Feb 28 2015, 06:52 PM Post #25 |
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Dal gave a snort at that, like Sabe could actually lift that much weight in order to give it a toss. He blinked a little perplexed as the teifling went into a defensive babble about throwing, what else could he have possibly meant? Even if the Pooka had been sober enough to have his thoughts crystal clear it wouldn't have clicked with him. In the realm of sexual deeds Dal was white as the driven snow. At the moment the Pooka could care less if Sabe smoked in his office. The scent was oddly soothing, though it did bring a bit of a flashback from the brothel which had Dal making sure to not inhale too deeply. The last thing he needed was to have his senses further dulled. Of course a stoned Pooka was oddly a calm Pooka, until you pushed them into anger or a very awkward/vulnerable situation.A hand came up to rub lightly at his face his stomach giving a little groan of complaint from all the alcohol. "What talk?" asked Dal his mind blurry and unfocused as he blinked at Sabe. Eyes continued to blink as Sabe broke out into an explanation that made no lick of sense to the Pooka. Attentions, amorous, what even was the teifling babbling about? Dal's face crinkled in mild disgust at the lewd gesture getting at least that much from what Sabe was trying to convey. "Shut up," grumbled Dal unable to really sit up knowing his brain would go upside down and then he'd really be hearing complaints from his stomach. Though he did manage quite the attempt at a swing at Sabe's side. "So what if I am?" he grunted as he managed to sit up placing a hand against his forehead and he squeezed one eye shut against the sudden stabbing pain of blood going to other parts of his body. The roaring of blood pounding in his ears that accompanied the deep embarrassed flush that his words could not hide. "I think I'm going to be sick," complained Dal rubbing at his head with both hands now as a dizzying hot flash hit him making the back of his throat constrict uncomfortably. "Sabe, let me have some blood," said the Pooka shifting on the desk, unintentionally provocative in the movements to drape his arms about the teifling's shoulders, one finger running idly up the other's neck. "Just a little, it'll make me feel better." |
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