crescentview | Fall Catchall

( A mimosa in the morning does not seem particularly alcoholic, or so he has been advised by the staff. The last thing he wants to do is seem like a drunkard, to others; to himself, there is a pervasive judgment he feels toward himself for drinking at all. It dulls the senses, even if only by one step. That he indulges in vulnerability is in some way repulsive.

Accept how you feel without judgment, Kaspar had said. This is difficult, because feeling itself is vulnerable.

Well, Adelis has Syrlya, and Adelis will have to hope he will have more than just Syrlya soon enough, and that is that.

Trahearne meets Mishka two mimosas in and generally cheery. He's a little tipsy, but generally himself, and he suggests his date—the one by the one he'd been won by—had come apart in some organic way, so why not walk, and talk? He is fortunately quite agreeable in his manner, as always, and when the suggestion of the spa & massage is floated, he finds himself enthusiastic to try it (well, try anything, really).

For what it's worth, it does improve his mood a significant amount. The attendants' hands work into him with technique that leaves even his insects content and hush. By the time they finish their work, he feels sore, but satisfied.

Assuming this is a couples' massage for perhaps obvious reasons, Mishka's body is notable for both its scars (perhaps expected for someone who knew a life of combat) and for the black, leaf-like veins that web outward from his chest and down along his limbs and body, the marks a fainter charcoal-grey the further from the source they run. There is a faint impression of his bones in black where the veins run, as if they've drawn the bones to press up against the skin, leaving marks.

They're likely to just be weird tattoos, certainly.

Mishka sits up as his masseuse finishes their work, stretching with a satisfied sound. Perhaps he should have visited this place before he tried the mimosas. )

Well, that wasn't so bad at all. How did you like it?

Edited 2023-02-01 21:38 (UTC)

( Mishka had thought the farm had an impressive amount of variety, but the buffet clearly blows all that out of the water. He's piled a good amount onto his plate from the weird and wild, and he's gladly working away at the more unique flavors.

He prods his fork at some red, sautéed mushrooms mixed with white, roasted tentacles on his plate, taking it up for a bite. )

They even have Hell's Reach here. There's a great bounty on these at home— to forge into alchemical oil, granted, but they're quite difficult to find and gather.

( To that extent, it's almost decadent to eat them. A cluster of these, when synthesized, is worth 25 gold; that could keep a man set for several lifetimes. Eating it feels almost perverse.

Such is the face of luxury, he supposes. )

( Mishka had suggested he would retire to their room for a minute just to relax, and he'd left the two of them alone to have their fun. When Syrlya finds him, he'll find Mishka picking through the goodie basket left on the bed. He casts his gaze over the open box of truffles with interest, but, fortunately, takes to reading the note he has held in his other hand before he takes one in his mouth.

Aphrodisiacs, hm. He does wonder if those would work on him. At home, he could say with certainty they would not; here, he can eat up poison just fine, but alcohol affects him. It's strange.

Unlike the usual smile he pitches up when he's around people, Mishka, at rest, is cool-hearted and inexpressive, as if the frosted edges of a glacier; there is no energy or presence about him, like a vast empty. However, when he hears the sound of someone coming in, like a switch, he infuses himself with being, leaving behind that glimpse of the sort of thing he is alone. He turns to see who's come in. Reflexively, he greets: )

Ah, good evening.

( He sets the box of truffles down on the bed, besides the rest of the basket, but he still has the note in hand, as he was reading it. )

Edited 2023-02-01 23:33 (UTC)

[Syrlya has kept himself very composed since they boarded the boat, although he still fixed Mishka with frequent pursed-lipped glances. But there is a third party here, and Flynn is none the wiser to the reasons that Syrlya is a bit wary about now being on a date with Mishka.

It's fine. With three people, he can just disregard anything remotely romantic about it.

His own dish is a roasted, herbed duck with a sweet sauce and side vegetables. Nothing particularly intriguing like tentacles, but compliments to the chef because it is delicious.

Though, he is eying Mishka's dish with curious interest.] I would assume the goddess has taken further pointers from our own worlds for this affair.

[Flynn takes longer to return to their room, and it's with luck that Mishka is still there when Syrlya slides in. He'd almost forgotten he had been planning to get Mishka alone... but seeing him sitting there with chocolates certainly reminds him of the issue that's been lingering since their awkward passing by a couple days ago.

He leans against the door after he closes it, folding his arms.] Evening, Mishka. You've been here this whole time?

( Oh, that position and posture never bodes well with women; perhaps likewise with plants, he considers. )

Even busy bees like me enjoy a bit of time alone. Did you want the room to yourself?

[That's right Mishka, you're fucked and not in the good way.]

No, actually, I was hoping I could steal your time for a minute. I'd like to talk. About Adelis. And you.

( A beat. )

Well, it seems you've fixed your mind on it, so I don't see why not.

( He'll tuck the note into the basket. )

I assume Adelis had worse to tell of me than usual.

[Agreement makes this easier, so Syrlya peels off the doorway to sit down on the bed a couple feet from Mishka.]

Well, you did hurt him. I hope more than you intended. [He pauses.] You died before you awoke in this place, didn't you?

( He appreciates that much, at least. He'll allow Syrlya the bed, and he takes a seat in a nearby plush chair that faces him.

His answer does not come immediately, but it does come after some time. )

Yes, in a sense. ( He taps the soft arm of the chair, his forearm rested upon its length. ) As the two of you may have surmised, I didn't intend to make a point of it here.

Just a point of pushing him away because of it? [He rests his chin on his hand, staring intently at Mishka.] What had you hoped for if he never found out?

( Hmm. )

You speak as if there is something to gain by telling him when he'd not known it before. He's been content. Elucidating the circumstances of my end seems self-aggrandizing.

I don't know how much he told you, but, in the end, all I did was buy him time. It was a relatively unimpressive feat by a relatively invisible man.

( He is an assassin, and just one of many employed by the Syndicate; he never made waves. His task was of no moment, and there would be no epic that recalled him. The night would continue on without him.

What he wants, though, is a stranger question, and one he's been wrestling with the past month. )

My fate intends to catch up to me once again, just as it has caught up with Adelis. Perhaps, in seven years, he will have marched onward and forged his own life without me. I'm certain you're aware it's doable.

Dead men should be mindful not to put words in the mouths of those still living. More importantly, you are not invisible to Adelis. Rather, you clearly are one of very few he's put enough stock into that he opened his heart enough that you could wound him by telling him that you are not close.

[He raises a brow, expression unimpressed.] But that isn't really true, is it?

( Hmmmm. )

It doesn't matter, does it? Because I'm one such dead man. He is better off keeping his heart open to those of the still living, who can so readily speak on his behalf.

[Syrlya pinches the bridge of his nose.] I am discussing this as much for your sake. I know you care about him, else you would not have traded everything for his sake.

It is a kindness to neither of you to undermine what you have.

( ... )

Then, let us begin this again.

You believe firmly I should have disclosed the circumstances of my departure to him. You also believe that I should remain close to him, until the time of my second departure.

Is my understanding of your thesis correct?

Do you remember what we discussed about closure? [He leans back a bit.] It is too hard for you to look him in the face, knowing this, or have you convinced yourself that it will be too hard for him?

( Let's hold onto that first bit for a second. )

You believe Adelis would take it gracefully, then.

[Hmmm.]

I think, given the way he stormed off and the aftermath... the possibility of being nothing to you will do little to lessen the pain of losing you. No matter how much either of you try to convince yourselves, it's a bit late not to care about one another now. Just as it's a bit late to dance around this now that he knows exactly what you sought to hide from him.

( ...... )

How much did he persist on this point?

( About not being anything to Mishka. Syrlya has needled this near half a dozen times by now. )

Edited 2023-02-02 06:36 (UTC)

I'm afraid I have to keep the specifics of our discussion in confidence, but... yes, he was very upset by the implication that you thought and treated him as mattering little.

[He raises a brow.] Does that surprise you?

( :thinking: )

... To be plain, he speaks with such violence I would not expect him to take barbs returned to him so earnestly.

( He leans back. )

I know I seem quite sociable now, but I never was very warm, either. ( In his perspective, granted. ) He begrudged that I no longer was cold to him, so I gave him cold.

( A beat. )

Though I will confess it was colored some by irritation... given he has not taken our past actions as occasional enemies so personally, I did not imagine this would be different.

[Syrlya tilts his head, for the first time in this conversation a smile gracing his face--granted, it's clearly amused.]

Weren't you the one writing an application about his carefully buried tenderness? His mouth is full of venom, but... that is just how many survive in Ostoya, isn't it?

[He had confirmed Syrlya's assessment, after all, that it is not a place generous to the kind and open hearted.]

( Hmm. While Mishka doesn't generally make his emotions accessible on his face, there is a kind of air about him, like someone who's kind of Understood Something. )

... Really, I did not expect that tenderness to be oriented toward me. Our relationship remained relatively professional in Ostoya, even if that may have primarily been by necessity.

( He'll grant that. If Adelis cares that much about his opinion, then maybe, under different circumstances, their exchanges would have gone... somewhere. He doesn't know where. )

That I gave up my life in exchange for a moment more of his is still strange to me. This is no insult to Adelis; I simply... have always wanted to survive.

( And yet, there he went, doing the one thing he'd been staving off his entire life; giving up his life, his self, he'd killed so many to protect; and for what? Why? )

Fall Catchall

trahearne

a mishka & syrlya & flynn walk into a bar

mishka > syrlya > flynn

syrlya

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