crescentview | FALL CATCH-ALL

( He has never found it easy to shape words of straightforward concern with his lips. He had always needled him, or said nothing, or taken to decisive, curative action. If he could stake Adelis now with no explanation, he most certainly would have already.

Subtly, his gaze darts across Adelis as he snaps back his retort, gauging for hunger. Adelis said he could hold out, but it's not as if it's easy; and he doesn't trust Syrlya to understand the gravity of what Adelis needs. He is too indulgent with Adelis, and one cannot allow any indulgence when holding back—

Adelis's final remark strikes true.

His smile returns, sharp. )

... I'd wondered what had made you so quarrelsome, but I suppose that's it, hm?

( He doesn't know why he's so fixated on this point, when Adelis is already turned. Maybe he'd just wanted to think there was some part of Adelis untouched by the worst; maybe he'd just not wanted to think that Adelis had seen him at his worst.

Even the phrase "giving in" makes him sick. The accusation with which Adelis speaks it drives under his skin and mixes with ire. Who does Adelis think he'd thrown it all away for? He hadn't expected love or praise, but the unpleasant accusation twists his stomach.

He never wanted to be that, never wanted let anyone see him like that; never mind Adelis.

Mishka's shoulder draw up slightly. )

Does it sicken you, to talk to a creature like me? I'll grant that you confided in me for help, but I suppose you never did need it. If I'd just left you alone, you'd never had to have seen something so impure.

( Because he won't deny it. Adelis managed on his own. Mishka had helped him initially, but it seems in retrospect gratuitous.

How embarassing it is to have set aside his life for someone who didn't need him and couldn't stand what he is— just a festering clot of insects, always one night nearer to breaking free. )

... I simply wished to spite him. That is all. So don't misunderstand my intent as a favor done for you.

[Syrlya has long since set his drink down, and the plate of flatbread that had been quietly slid near them is forgotten. He has bit his tongue, giving Adelis the space to handle himself despite every instinct wanting to go on the defensive.

This probably shouldn't elevate to a physical fight even if he would otherwise allow Adelis to get a strike in. But getting kicked out would only make the mod worse.

And he sees Mishka pushing at his buttons again, making things all the worse again, and decides not to let him talk much further.

He slides from the barstool, not quite blocking Mishka but clearly ready to spring into action if he has to.] Of you are so well aware of what Adelis has been through then you should know this is hardly the time for your self-pity. Moreover, he has nothing to prove to you about his own ability to manage himself.

[ There is something in that smile that churns his stomach uncomfortably, and he’s not far off the mark, as Mishka’s words lend to the sensation. ‘Quarrelsome’ he says, as if this is some childish argument and not the other man driving the sharp metaphorical points of his nails into his open wounds.

And open they are, as his hand grips tight on reflex around his other, gloved fingers pressing to the burn laying beneath leather. One of many things he’d done in the wake of his…grief. Stronger was his mind, but it did little to assuage the feelings left it’s wake.

Adelis does not snap even as Syrlya steps in, although he does freeze, not expecting any outside intervention. And while he makes a good point, Mishka’s words strike too deep and stoke the fire too much, and he his mouth twisting into a snarl. ]

What the hells is with you and your fucking obsession with your apparent impurity?! Do you really think I actually give a shite about something like that?

[ He hates the image he saw, yes, it infuriates and cuts him uncontrollably, but the disgust is hardly the reason for it. For all his needling, he has never truly stated his hate, despite what Mishka thinks.

And despite how some of him wishes to know better, further driving the point home that none of it was for him makes his chest twist uncomfortably in ways that make his drunken bender pale in comparison. ]

Do you really think I’m so stupid-

[ And he cuts himself off at that, nearly biting his tongue in the process. This…won’t get anywhere. Not here, when the urge to wrap his hands around the other’s throat is so strong. He goes quiet, uncharacteristically so, before he finally opens his mouth again with barely contained bite. ]

…If you wish to insist on that, then so bloody be it. [ He looks away, pointedly. ] But since I clearly don’t concern you any, you can keep out of my affairs. Don’t you dare try to stick your nose where you clearly have no interest.

( Syrlya's intervention is unwelcome but expected, as is the way Adelis's anger seems to flare. Mishka has known Adelis long enough to know when it is possible to defuse, and how to go about it; he knows neither of these things are true, here.

He gave up his self and his life for Adelis and they think he can't harbor mixed feelings on the matter? My! Such is the fascinating privilege of the living. He is no Trahearne. He is selfish. He wanted to live. He didn't want Adelis to see him like that.

He didn't want to make Adelis so sad.

He's frustrated. Not with Adelis, necessarily, though in some way he does resent him— he had been so secure in his path of self-restraint, until the very end. Why would he give himself up? He had wrested the lives of so many others if only to protect himself. As one of his people, he'd had Alexei's latent favor; he could have persuaded Alexei for his life, even if he was impure, unworthy. He had dealt with kindred kind, he had known how.

He had articulated this plan to himself vividly in that basement, until he'd felt Adelis's weakened grip, and his heart wavered. Off came the ring; his best chance of escape.

He does not address Adelis at all in this first remark. )

If that is what you think this is, Syrlya, you do not know me well enough to address me.

( Would that he could cut out his tongue. Unfortunately, as much as Syrlya grates on him, it is for the better that Adelis has him, and it is this thought that stays his own tongue from cutting sharper. If anything, he supposes this may draw Adelis and Syrlya closer together. Two goodly sorts do love having a common villain to unite against.

Well, good for them.

Finally, he glances at Adelis, as if an afterthought. Yeah, he's being real mean. )

Congratulations, then, on surviving Koshevek. ( The person, and the territory. ) Worry little about the lives it cost to carry you through the night. Though you guard your currency jealously, know that your life is always worth the price.

( No matter how much your curse warps you.

His life is just one coin Adelis traded. It is impersonal, callous, and cold. But it is easier to think of lives that way, when you must, in time, spend so many to persist.

Still, he'd wanted to spare Adelis of that. That path is a heartless avenue, and it is the one he's tread. Yet, his own words bind him. It is for the best that they don't know each other.

He can't hide their past from him any more, no. But he can hide that his own curse is catching up to him. )

... Good day, and enjoy your date.

( Unless stopped, he will walk past them without a sound, and disappear with ease into the crowd. )

Edited 2023-02-03 23:06 (UTC)

[Syrlya tips his chin up with a sneer. It's not quite a dare, because they really shouldn't start a fight in the middle of the bar. Instead he just postures a stern demeanor, letting Mishka's comment bounce off. He'll comment on what he wants.

But he does let Adelis mostly handle himself, intent to scare Mishka away aside. And it's only when Adelis falls in that uncomfortable silence that he pulls his attention away to look at him instead. And then he only eyes Mishka as an aside, seeing if he'll properly take the hint to leave.

He does, and Syrlya sinks back into his sigh as he turns to disappear into the crowd.]

[ An afterthought. The dismissive iciness in that glance turns the boiling heat of his own blood cold, and it comes out more of a curse than anything else- congratulations. For managing to scurry like a rat from his shackles, only with help from another, help from him. There is something in that tone that he can't place, but he finds the words cutting anyway, something akin to disbelief flittering to his features. ]

...Worth it? Are you fucking kidding me-?

[ What part of that was worth it? Does he really think that's what he wanted? For all his self-proclaimed heartlessness, for all the people he's sold out for the sake of his own survival, this was a choice made without his say. He had no part, nothing but the twisting of his chest to accompany the sight.

Adelis lets him walk. He has so much else he wants to say, but he chokes it all down like a bitter pill, once again feeling like he did on that auction stage- furious and cold and empty.

Syrlya sits, but Adelis stares a few moments more, many things roiling beneath the surface before he turns and grabs his drink, promptly tilting the whole thing back without even a second's hesitation. The wine slides down, but he can't even appreciate the taste, not when he doesn't even have to stop to breathe.

When he places the empty glass down, it's only to slide it back over to the other side of the bar and speak over a heavy tongue. ]

Another one.

[ Fuck it. ]

[Syrlya purses his lips, and as the bartender is getting Adelis another glass he nudges the plate of flatbread closer.] That was unpleasant.

[Putting it lightly.]

[ It's only after the glass is taken away that he bothers to take his own seat, sinking into it while his mind runs. If he thinks about it more, it will just make him more miserable-

Adelis eyes the plate for a moment, but doesn't reach just yet, as tempting as it is. instead driving his glare into the hardwood of the bar. ]

I shouldn't have expected anything less.

[ He cannot keep the bitterness from his voice, but he hardly makes an attempt to, anyway. ]

I had really been hoping we picked a different date. [Precisely to avoid this.

Mishka is less surprised by Adelis' state and more than it's happening now. That doesn't escape Syrlya's attention.]

... What did he mean, your life is always worth the price?

Hah. Fate is a frigid bitch, as they say.

[ There is no humor in his laugh, just something icy and dull.

The question drags him into quiet, emotions swirling viciously as he churns that sentence over and over in his head for a few moments. This was not something he had wanted to share, but apparently, it has come up anyway. ]

...He got me out. [ Of the basement, he means- although he neglects to mention what Mishka was doing there in the first place. ] I didn't know why, but he did all the same. But we only made it so far before he showed up again, and I was hardly in any state to do something about it.

[ The glass is placed in front of him again, freshly filled, and he tugs it closer to peer into it again. ]

So he did. Shanked him to a wall, despite how much his people worship that bloody creature. [ He finds his face pinching again, grip tightening as the memory surfaces, ever-fresh. ] Those born of Koshevek territory are mired in poison their whole lives, the very land from the water to the soil turning them vile and monstrous from the inside out. Some lose themselves, and others can hold themselves together, if but barely. He is the latter.

[ A pause. ]

But he let go. It is nothing short of a death sentence of the self, as both your mind and body are gone to become something else. That is what he did, and that is what he means. [ The thought sparks his fury and the sharp pinpricks in his chest, teeth grinding. ] Despite having no say in the matter, it is apparently my fault he made that decision.

Edited 2023-02-07 13:13 (UTC)

[... Ah.

Who knows what Mishka had been doing there originally. A sacrifice? At service of the vampire to ensure that Adelis fed? It doesn't matter much when the choice he made in the end was actually to get Adelis out of there. Even at the cost of himself.]

... Does it weigh on you? Before he opened his mouth.

[He didn't ask Mishka to, sure--does it still hurt, the lingering memory to have lost him all the same?]

[ What a way to look at it. He can hardly say he thinks the same now, all the vitriol and dismissal tossed his way tainting the memory of it. Perhaps that's for the better, in some way, but it doesn't make it any less bitter to the tongue.

He doesn't answer the question for a moment, opting to take another sip of wine ( that does nothing, he finds on a sour note. it isn't particularly strong, and it's ever harder for him to feel it now ). When he puts it down, it's with a quiet, deathly look on his face. ]

I never craved his death. Not strongly. [ An avoidance, in a way, but not untrue- they can come to blades before, and as Mishka has surely thought the same of him, he'd also contemplated the need to kill the other before. For himself, for what they were doing.

There was a sort of grim acceptance, but he would rather not have, if given the opportunity. Bastard as he was, Adelis owed him more than he'd like to admit, and somehow...it had never settled quite right. Not quite as easy as the rest. ]

But that hardly matters. It happened, all for his spite, and now I get to carry that blame for him. [ It doesn't occur to him, not quite, that Mishka's words weren't in the sarcastic, mocking sense. And why would they, when he seemed so damn sincere. ] How magnimous, to bear the weight of something you never asked for in the bloody first place.

I wonder if it was really only for spite... [He muses, almost under his breath before he finally lifts his drink back to his lips. Let's the slow sip prolong the silence as he thinks.]

I'm sure I've said enough that I am sorry for what you've been through. [His sympathy is ever freely given.] ... Selfishly, though, I can't help but feel relief that you escaped regardless what it took. It's a cold comfort but... I would hate for your suffering to have gone on any longer.

[Especially when there's nothing he can do.]

His decisions hardly matter to me anymore, regardless.

[ That is what he attempts to convince himself of anyway, red liquid reflecting in the blue of his eyes. He doesn't particularly seem eager to drink again, despite his request, letting it sit on the counter as he slowly turns his gaze back to Syrlya.

His suffering, is it. Well, he has that in surplus now, doesn't he. ]

As if I do not. [ Despite it all, being out of that basement still offered a sense of repose, despite the lingering ache in his chest. The shock, and the betrayal. Being away from Alexei's cold touch has always been a boon, this only made it moreso.

Of course, that was the way. Despite what it took. Adelis opts to not think too deeply on the feelings it had left buried deep within him. ]

Selfishness is necessary. My survival was always what was most important- but I would rather have done it my way. But that is in the past, and it cannot be redone. I am alive, or some facsimile of it, and I will never bloody go back. I would sooner take the blade to myself than let him have me again.

Better to take a blade to him. [He smiles a touch.] But I understand the sentiment. So, we will just do everything to ensure he cannot have to again.

[Syrlya would say being on another planet makes that easier, but... given the way this truth had so rapidly haunted and changed him overnight, he can't be so sure of that.]

Be that if the blade did much.

[ He had tried, mind you. His hands were loose enough he managed to drive a few straight into him whenever he came close enough- but only received a smile for his troubles. Just by himself, there was simply no chance, no matter how he might have craved the opposite.

His optimism is...something. Adelis takes another small sip of his drink, as if contemplating, the circles under his eyes seeming ever darker. ]

Perhaps I should just take a whole bloody of this home with me, just in case.

[Syrlya also watches Adelis' drink with contemplation. The explanation of its origins is bright on his mind now. Certainly, it wouldn't hurt...]

What are their weak points, the Kindred? I want to know how to kill them.

[ ...Hm. Isn't that a question. Adelis' gaze flickers to Syrlya for a moment, brief surprise in his eyes before it disappears. He leans an elbow on the bar counter, hair brushing his cheek. ]

...There are several. None of them particularly easy.

[ Not that he's happy about that, but that's life. ]

...They are harmed by running water, such as standing in a river. As well as radiant, divine energy, and the sun itself. However, you can only kill them right away should they reach the end of their vitality whilst in sunlight or water. The former, obviously, was in short supply.

[ Vampires... (derogatory). ]

Should they not be in either, they will turn into a form of mist and attempt to abscond to their coffin within a certain amount of time, where they will stay to heal. They regenerate fast, but divine energy halts their regeneration enough. [ His fingers idly brush the rim of the glass. ] Should you stake them through the heart whilst they rest, they will be paralyzed, and easily disposed of...but this is all far easier said than done.

[Sunlight. Running water. Environmental factors that are available... but impossible to bring with you if you happen to be caught in a place they're not. Well, unless you're an Elementalist or Druid.

He nods along as Adelis speaks, committing everything to memory.]

Sleep in a coffin is a bit dramatic, isn't it? [His expression twists wryly.] Besides a stake, is there anything else carriable? Does the stake need to be in a particular form or size?

[ ...Dramatic, huh. He doesn't laugh, but his expression is faintly amused at the thought. He's never really thought about it, since it's the norm and all, but he supposes it is a little much. ]

Many of them enjoy being dramatic. Big parties, big celebrations. Some more than others.

[ Like the Grand Duchess herself...ugh. He's rather not think about that one.

He hums. ]

About... [ He idly holds his hands on either side of his chest. ] Perhaps the length of a torso. It has to pierce through the chest and the heart. It also has to be made of wood. Other then that, however, it matters not- you could ram a table leg in there, provided you had the appropriate strength to do so.

[Syrlya nods, resting his chin on his palm and tapping his finger against it as regards Adelis. A stake is... carryable, but he wonders if for Adelis' expertise or isn't too cumbersome.]

So poisonous wine, a large enough wooden stake, sunlight, running water... [Thinking, thinking... except the wine at least those are easily obtained in Tyria, and here.]

[ He really is making an extensive list here, isn't he. There aren't even any vampires in Tyria, if he remembers correctly, so he doesn't quite see a point in doing so...but, well, whatever. If he wants to know, he wants to know. ]

I doubt you'd be able to recreate this, especially since they can't even make it anymore, so I'd hardly bother with that one. [ He idly taps the glass. ] But yes, all of that...as well as silver. It's outlawed in Ostoya, for that purpose.

[Maybe the vampires will infest Crescentview. Can't be too careful.]

Silver, hm? [Of course they would outlaw it in Ostoya. But not here!] Thank you, Adelis, I'll remember that... you know, just in case.

[Vampires are kill on sight.]

[ God, don't say that. He has enough problems as is. ]

I fail to see how you'll put that into practice, but you're welcome, I suppose.

[ He'll just...finally have a nibble, now. It's a bit cold, but still better than 70% of Ostoyan food, so he's not complaining. ]

FALL CATCH-ALL

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