crescentview | | that's the price you pay

[ Kaspar smiles at him as he stands, letting his hands fall to clasp behind his back. His also understand preferring having something to occupy them. Being around Adelis again during sunlit hours, in more than just passing, has the warmth of familiarity returning. He doesn't miss being so much taller than everyone around him, but it is a familiar vantage point now that he's no longer squatting. All of that is enough for Kaspar to be sure this will all work out.

He shakes his head. No, Adelis is not mistaken. But he attempts to clarify a beat later. Well, sort of. ]

I have.

[ Kaspar will follow him wherever, quietly hoping to spy his rifle. Or perhaps to see if there is any tea at hand. His drifting gaze is nothing new, whther he makes it over the threshold or behind Adelis or not. ]

[ It's been a while since he's had anybody who wasn't Syrlya over. It's an unexpected visit, certainly, but not one he's ready to complain about- it's not like he isn't nearly finished, and it's better than some company around here.

...That, and it's a good distraction for his thoughts. They have been far too busy, lately.

The inside of the house is incredibly clean, and whilst not incredibly decorated, it's...somewhat homey, at least. Adelis leads him to the kitchen, but there are no guns anywhere that Kaspar can see. ]

Sit wherever suits you. [ A vague gesture to the table. There's a pause as he reaches for the cupboard, staring at his dirty gloves for a brief moment, before he sighs and peels them off to put them aside- exposing fingers stained a deep gradient of inky black, which then proceed to go back to business and open it to tug down both a kettle and a box. ] Tea is fine, I take it. I've little else, unless coffee is more to your taste.

[ A generous person he is not, but he won't be known as a shit host. He was going to make some, anyway. Besides, since Kaspar confirmed his suspicions, better they sit before he speaks on whatever he's come here for. ]

[ Kaspar makes his way slowly as he is prone to, pleased with seeing a new place. It I'd always delightfully strange to see how different places can look without strict rules. There is no judgment in his wandering gaze. No disappointment either, when he doesn't spy his old rifle. Quietly distracted by the homey touches, he follows Adelis until the gesture guides his glance towards the table. But he lingers a beat before responding. ]

It is.

[ A simple answer if his host doesn't look over for his nod. Or his eyes following the box and kettle. Right, Adelis wanted things to do with his hands. And the circles, the tiredness, say he probably needs it more than Kaspar does.

So, he finally finds a seat at the table and relaxes into it. ]

[ His gait is slow, his eyes wandering- Kaspar finds a subtle wonder in everything, a curiosity Adelis does not show so easily. Their circumstances have made them very different people, he finds, but in a way it is difficult to dislike, to envy.

The confirmation has him filling the kettle, before idly settling it on the stove, flicking the burner on as the flames flicker to life. It will take a few minutes for it to boil, so he turns and leans on the countertop as Kaspar takes his seat, crossing his arms with their blackened fingertips across his chest. ]

As we've time to spare- [ Adelis' head tilts, strands of strawberry blond brushing his cheek. ] Why don't you tell me what it is you've come for?

[ He can't really place what it is he wants, despite knowing it is something, but as it is Kaspar...he can't imagine anything particularly serious. A favor, perhaps. ]

Åse.

[ Clear and old Groscian, Kaspar says it like the word answers everything. His gaze wanders away from Adelis, straight in the direction of wherever she is as if the walls don't exist. This close, in the same building, it's easy to reach out. He brushes metal and blood with his light, exhaling softly as he leans back in his chair.

He goes on a beat later, once his gaze finds Adelis again. Idly, it drifts over his fingers and the softer features he is lucky to be too quiet to comment upon before seeking the other's eyes. Kaspar's smile is small before he opens his mouth, but at least he has found his normal speaking volume, soft and casual as it is. ]

She's due a proper cleaning, I believe.

[ The word earns a sharp cock of his head, brows furrowing only in the slightest. It is not familiar to his ears- not in Ostoyan, and not in whatever terms the locals around here tend to use. And then he watches Kaspar's head turn, to stare off at the wall that separates their bedroom from the rest of the house with such a sense of knowing it makes his gaze narrows somewhat.

He cannot imagine he knows what is beyond there, not that there would be anything worth his notice, unless...if he thinks, that turns less from the door, the beds, and closer to the dresser at the end of the room, full of clothes and with something sitting on the freshly-scrubbed wooden top that does not belong.

Ah. Adelis meets the returning gaze, the smile, the soft tone of his voice. ]

...The gun. [ It is probing, as if he is making sure- but he can't imagine what else it could be, Kaspar's gaze having turned to stare directly at where it is as if he could peel back the wood panels with his eyes. ] I had been wondering who it belonged to, if it did to anyone at all.

[ He does not blink. ]

I did not steal it, if that happens to be a thought on your mind.

[ Kaspar nods, accepting that Adelis does not know the difference between a gun, a rifle, or a pistol without comment or judgment. He is happy enough that his point got across. Observant people on this island make communication so much simpler.

His smile doesn't falter when he breathes a little laugh, shaking his head. He wouldn't have cared if Adelis did technically steal it from anyone else, not that the thought even crossed his mind. She is a part of him and he certainly would've known if he had taken it from his own farm. And to Kaspar, it is not stealing if it wasn't from his own possession. ]

It was not.

[ He glances again, toward the bedroom where she rests. Now, he is curious though. ]

Where did you, find her?

[ Not when, because he knows that answer already. ]

[ Truthfully, it had looked so off he had wondered for a moment if that was what it was- but he did live with somebody more knowledgeable with that sort of thing, so it answered at least one of the questions he had. Apparently, they're far more common in other places.

Adelis slowly raises an eyebrow at the laugh, but doesn't comment- so carefree, this one. He would be surprised if there was much that could bother him, honestly, but everybody has that point. ]

How optimistic of you.

[ Not an accusation, or derogatory suggestion. Just a statement. Most people would think their possessions falling into other people's hands would be because of something less than honest, but people here tend to hold more hope, he's found.

The question earns a small hum, the flame on the stove lightly roaring away. ]

Here. [ A dismissive wave of a hand. ] It simply showed up in the house one day. One of the Goddess' many tricks, I assumed. Ryuki denied it was his, and it most certainly wasn't mine- I had little use for it, so I put it aside until I thought of how to deal with it properly.

[ His gaze flickers back to Kaspar. ]

But I suppose you've come to offer me a solution to that problem.

[ She is certainly smaller than most rifles, meant for younger hands. The very same that had cared for her and treasured the rifle as one of the few acceptable outlets to form attachments to.

Åse is especially shorter when compared to the more decorated and intricate rifle that is not uncommon to see strapped to Kaspar's back. Though today, Thyra was left home to leave room for her older yet more compact sister.

... Optimistic? At first, Kaspar merely shakes his head at that assessment. Optimist though he rightly is, he does not consider himself such. A realistic one, at most. There is no offense, only subdued amusement. ]

I would have known, had you taken her from me.

[ A simple explanation, gaze wandering to the tea before Adelis again. The details of her arrival sound about right and he has no doubts, considering how Thyra arrived at his farm one day unbidden. Perhaps this was a misfire.

Kaspar sounds very pleasant when he offers his solution. ]

I have. I would like her returned. And... thank you, for not harming her.

[ ...Hm. He seems utterly, completely confident in that, and so Adelis sees no reason to argue with it. Perhaps there is something about it that he does not know- it would be likely, seeing as how Kaspar sniffed the weapon out despite having no viable way of doing so, considering it had neither been mentioned nor left the house since it's arrival.

The kettle begins to idly shriek, and Adelis moves to grasp it, turning his back and fiddling with the cups whilst his tongue moves. ]

I've little reason to do so. Despite having no experience with firearms, I don't make it a habit to take things apart or destroy them without reason.

[ Perhaps to sell parts, were he back in Ostoya, but that seems to be far more hassle then it would be worth. The faint smell of herbs and citrus slips through the air, ceramic clinking. ]

It is yours, and you may have it back. I don't keep what I cannot use, and I've always preferred blades.

[ A cup is placed in front of Kaspar, black-stained fingers retreating as he takes his own seat to grasp the handle of his own. It's not technically a lie- if Adelis cannot sell it or use it in some way, it's a waste of precious space. A stingy bastard he is- a stupid man he is not. ]

Besides, I know better than to unbalance my scales so carelessly.

[ Kaspar's gaze follows Adelis to the kettle and his fiddling, though it's more a curious, idle exercise than a cautious one. His agreement confirms this meeting as a pleasant one. And Kaspar seems as unsurprised by his easy agreement as he is the arrival of tea before him. He calmly draws the cup up from the table to smell and enjoy the heat of it in his lungs while it cools. Knowing she is safe and as good as in his hands again, there is no need to rush.

Over the rim of his cup, Kaspar's eyes alight with a brighter curiosity. The thread of which he only follows at his own pace once Adelis finishes speaking. It isn't an active, linear line of thought for Kaspar, only a simple bias that lives in the gut he trusts. Assuming he hasn't spied him with daggers before now. Kaspar's own are a comfort anywhere he carries them in their hidden sheaths. Besides, Adelis does not seem the type for swords like Bar. ]

... What type of blades?

[ It reminds him a bit of the first time Syrlya visited, really, albeit with far different intentions. Adelis leans on the table, lightly resting his cheek on his knuckles, peering back into the light peek of curiosity shining in the other man's eyes. Perhaps once upon a time, he would have been jealous of being capable of having that sort of light.

Now, however, he merely takes a sip of his own drink, vaguely amused.

He isn't expecting the question, but he's gathered Kaspar is a military man from hints so far. Obviously a far different type from the guards of the Scarlet Watch, for he has never known of the Court's Bloodhounds to be kind to anyone.

He taps a finger on the rim of his cup, expression unwavering. ]

Daggers. I used to keep multiple on my person, although I've no need for the physical kind now.

[ Indeed, it's been a while since he's last had to carry one. One firmly plated in silver he did still have before here, but he's yet to replace it. ]

[ Kaspar's curiosity smooths and shifts as he brings the cup to his lips. As he does that, he leans forward ever so slightly. His free hand, left open at his side hovers until Kaspar completes his drink. With a soft whistle comes the silent slide of metal from a perfectly fitted, hidden sheath. A lovely gilded hilt kisses his palm as if bidden by an old friend.

With the hold of someone perfectly accustomed to the weight and feel of it in his hand, Kaspar lays the dagger between them. Hilt facing Adelis, Kaspar's fingers slide down the blunt center of the sharp blade. Reflective and blood etched, the blade is unique enough to his world. Perfectly balanced and crafted by Groscian masters of the art, it was forged with as much of Kaspar's own blood as possible. More traditional vampires tend to find the smell of his blood alluring this close. If Noé was any example.

Groscia has no vampires. And therefore no need to stifle the scent of blood that Kaspar's bloodletting weapons are laden with. It is a sign of strength, and Kaspar had been the strongest within that insular world. ]

Eydís.

[ Kaspar introduces her as his hand retreats. A nod toward the hilt confirms Adelis can touch her if he likes. His gaze is fond toward the dagger, in his subdued way, as he sips more from his cup. ]

They are quite versatile.

[ He does not know what he's expecting, really, at that soft whistle- but despite the sight itself, Adelis doesn't tense up completely. The slightest, yes, as reflex when faced with sudden movements, but he doesn't feel the need to be as on-guard with Kaspar as he is with some. Perhaps it's the comradery, although he would argue that would make the suspicion worse in most circumstances.

His gaze is locked solidly on the dagger as it glides into the other's palm, coming to rest on the table and shining faintly under the kitchen lights. The smell of blood is...strong, he finds, and it's fortunate that blood is not his food of choice.

The introduction doesn't go ignored, but he wouldn't be the first to name his weapons- it's just not a common thing in the Syndicate. Adelis stares above the rim of his cup for a moment, acknowledges the nod, before he sets it down and finally reaches forward to pick it up. While it's with one hand, he handles it with an expert finesse that suggests years of practice, turning it over this way and that and sliding his gaze over the sharp edge, the glint of the handle. ]

They are. [ A light hum in agreement, idly running the barest skim of his fingers over the blade. ] More convenient to carry. Easy to pick up, difficult to master.

[ Anybody can stab an enemy, after all, but it takes finesse to angle it in the spots where it hurts, where it can best incapacitate or cripple. Finding where your enemy bleeds the most is half the lesson, not to mention learning to use them both up close and far away is more difficult then most think. ]

I carried many on my person, once. They have all been due replaced, however.

[ Kaspar doesn't say how many he carries, but any nose keen enough can smell the sheathes and blades. They'll only find two. Identical twins, hidden by design, Kaspar has never been shy about their existence beneath his shirt or in one leather boot. And he always had them, whether he carried his pistol too or not.

His eyes follow the movement of the blade. It's the first time he's ever let someone mess with one of his own so openly. A whim, in the ease of his good mood. He shifts subtly at the skim of fingers, pulling his sensory awareness of her back further. He sips at his tea as his gaze drifts the room instead. ]

... often underestimated.

[ He adds, holding his cup with two hands because he has nothing better to occupy them. ]

How is your aim?

[ Indeed. His cursory examination done, he lightly sets the dagger back on the table, handle facing Kaspar, although he can still appreciate the design- still more decorative then anything he'd use, on account of his frugal ways, but fairly nice to look at. And nicely weighted, as well, so they weren't just for show.

His hand wraps leisurely around the handle of his cup again, gaze flickering back to the other man. ]

Indeed. Most don't think much of something so inconspicuous.

[ Most would know to fear any blade, really, but people will surely give their attention to the blades and the bows first. A dagger is so small and fragile, not what they'd to expect to be the thing to end them when they blink.

The question has him tilting his head somewhat, before he hums. ]

I don't oft tend to brag, but I'd say it's fairly good. One doesn't practice for years for nothing, and my teacher was fairly...relentless.

| that's the price you pay

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ROUGH WEEK HELLO IM BACK

WELCOME HOME

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