[There was a time he would have argued vehemently against her characterization of paladins. An Oath is an Oath, after all, and there are a handful of types of oaths, but only so much flexibility to invest one's own personal opinions within each one.
He would have said that, before. Now, having learned the truth about what he once swore to, he's too uncertain to offer a contradiction. He's also painfully aware that that's a weakness, a glaring one, that someone so inclined could exploit.
No, it's not her virtue he's concerned about, not half so much as his own.
In any case, he makes his way quietly toward the location she's indicated, and waits silently in the shadows nearby for more than half an hour to make sure the place isn't watched. Stealth is not his first instinct, but he is capable. Eventually, seeing nothing untoward, he enters via a door in the back of the building.
Once inside, he doesn't call out, but he makes no effort to silence his footsteps, either. If she's what he thinks she might be, she'll know he's there.]
[ Her remark interrogates not only a divergence of perspectives within his order but the ideological differences between organisations that adorn themselves in the righteous mantle of "paladin". Elsewhere are justicers whose model of good and evil is diametrically opposed to his, perhaps to his sorrow.
Though the rain confounds her ear to the rhythm of his gait his presence is not unexpected in light of their correspondence. Broken remnants of copperware perish like fossils under his soles and the boards creek like little tattletales awoken by the opportunity to betray. Even the specialised eyes of a tiefling might fight to discern the shapes of things in the uninterrupted darkness of the boarded house, a three-legged table here, an empty bookshelf there. But most discernible of all is the sensation of being watched. ]
You have come. Though I had you all so bothered.
[ Juvenile laughter trickles from the darkness where among the silhouettes of statics is a figure of some sort. A sharp sound coincides with an orange spark in the gloom like flint striking fire steel and the wick of the candle ignites, rendering intelligibility to his surroundings.
The young girl is sitting on a chair and holding a candlestick as if in toast. Her dress is black. Her leg is crossed over a knee in an oddly adult fashion with a suggestion of pale skin under her opaque, black tights. ]
[He continues to display an abundance of caution, steps slow and easy, fiery eyes searching the darkness. It's not the demeanor of a man who's afraid, but rather a man who is keenly aware he may be walking onto a battlefield.]
Indeed. I was led to believe you needed help. [He answers, voice mild and measured, though the laughter does send chills down his spine. No, definitely not a child. He squints slightly for a moment, eyes readjusting to the candlelight, and then steps closer, almost but not quite within arm's reach of her. From here, his height gives him a physical advantage, though that may matter little.]
But I am all too aware of how easily my own better nature can be used against me. Hence my caution. But for whatever it's worth, there appears to be no one watching this place unless they're a druid in wildshape. I saw nothing but rats and birds.
[ The shadows swivel with the light as she rests the candlestick on the cupboard by her hip. Her composed demeanour says nothing of distress, but the destitution of the house, her lair, if one were to be dramatic, is indicative of fraught circumstances. Houses on the edge of collapse are not occupied for an abundance of choice.
But she is not so cornered, not with her new acquaintance in the picture. She is circumspect about presuming his character as a given, his better nature, but his arrival does lend it credence.
His report is answered with a curt smile. ]
Thank you.
[ She lifts her chin for the great discrepancy in height. Blood-red eyes in the orbits of her tiny skull. ]
My name is Dorothea. The men whom I anticipate mean cut out my heart. I think you know why.
[No, this is absolutely no place for a child to stay, even an undead one. Those ruby eyes confirm his guess as to her nature, and he finds himself smiling, amused in spite of himself. This is a moral dilemma made flesh, if he's ever seen one.
Vampires are dangerous, no matter how small and sweet-faced they are, and she may be far more powerful than she seems. By the same token, a vampire can't help but feed on the blood of the living, so assisting one is potentially holding candle to assault or murder. But a child does not ask to become a vampire or their spawn. This situation was not of her own making, no matter how long ago she was changed, and it's probable that she has experienced years of suffering.]
It's funny...the last of the vampires in Elturel were banished when I was a child no bigger than you. I never saw any until after the fall into Avernus. [And then he met Astarion. Enough said.]
You can call me Zevlor. Whatever titles I once held are no longer applicable. Do you ask for me to fight these men, or just to get you out of their reach?
[ The girl watches him without interjecting, her hands folded on a sheer knee and her boot seesawing in the air just so as he overturns the dilemma before him in his head, as though she is conscious of his difficult position and need to process its particulars as rain drums the roof of her crumbling abode.
Has it crossed his mind what might occur if he had a change of heart at this juncture, after having witnessed her face and heard her name? There is no intimation that he is under duress save that established by the nature of her being. ]
My blood is of a particularly old extraction. Certain distinctions between myself and your neighbours apply, but for all intents and purposes...
[ The girl spreads her arms. ]
I am a vampire.
[ She laces her fingers over her knee in an attitude of erudition. ]
For each hunter dead another is roused to take up the cause. There is always a son or daughter.
[ They were killed in the old days, entire lineages eradicated for the offence of one hunter. How the tables have turned, master.
Dorotha smiles with her teeth. ]
On the matter of daughters—make me yours. My pursuers search for a lone waif.
Your understanding is appreciated. [And if that sounds stilted, it's only because of the medium. Zevlor is grateful, has to be, for any empathy his kin receive.]
We're on our way to the city of Baldur's Gate. It is...known as a melting pot, of sorts. One assumes it won't be an easy life to settle into, but at least we can hope there are so many races there, those that would hold ours against us will be fewer and further between.
[Most formalities are stilted and stiff; now is no exception.]
I see. I am still learning about Faerûn, so this information is incredibly helpful.
Should you ever need a reprieve from the journey, there are some spaces where my kind have established gates between Faerûn and Cramea. Should you find such a gate in such a journey, or -- should you decide to allow me to accompany you -- I would be happy to escort you to the nearest one should you desire it. I can mark on your map later which gates go where, though if you should find yourself entering Silver Wing, Rowena, I welcome you there. Our laws stipulate to allow any newcomers from any world or plane to acquire their basic needs for the duration of their stay. Safe housing, food, work, if it's desired.
Although our people are set in their ways, embracing the differences of others is - for the most part - one of our strengths. With... the odd exception. Mostly, however, the issues are targeted at our own kind, or, especially, towards myself.
I am the head officer of the Control Bureau there. Your people deserve a warm and kind welcome. Should you wish to head that way, I will personally welcome you and work with you to make sure that those who wish to stay are given the gentle care that they are long overdue.
[There's a long hesitation before Zevlor responds, because that is an offer he can neither dismiss out of hand nor accept immediately on his kin's behalf. Some of them have family in the Gate, and at least one is looking forward to an apprenticeship. Diverting from their course may or may not be the best idea. But they have seen such suffering, such loss, both on the road and before their journey began. The temptation to turn aside, even for a few weeks, and just rest...
Well, it would do the children good.
Dimly, he's aware of what Alivian has said regarding himself, and he's curious, concerned, but in the light of the potential respite for his kin, he can't focus on his right now.]
I will have to consult with some of my kin. My lieutenant and some of the families. I...
I want to accept on their behalf right away, but that would be unfair. Come to the party. Meet them. Perhaps that will be reassuring to some of them.
Of course, on both accounts. It is not a decision you can possibly make for everyone, nor would I insist. I simply could not stand by and not offer such a thing, knowing even the surface of what your people have gone through.
I shall attend, and I hope I represent myself respectfully to your kin, Sir Zevlor.
[While he mentioned his own woes, it wasn't to trouble Zevlor, but to offer an attempt at an unbiased view - their merits, and the flaws of his own people. To only offer the rosy view of his beloved homeland would be disingenuous, and potentially cruel.]
Take whatever time you require on the matter, and no less. I am still but a stranger, and it would take, I'm certain, a considerable leap of faith at this juncture to move forward with it.
Regardless, it's a matter that requires an informed response. You have my blessing to question and press me on any matters you deem important to you and yours.
Same goes to all of your kin. Especially if they wish to ask on such matters at a party. I do look forward to meeting them.
Rolan will not want to stay anywhere for long. Of that you can be sure; he has an apprenticeship he can't stop talking about. His siblings will want to go with him. The others may be more willing.
You may be a stranger, but you've offered us more kindness than most. That does not go unnoticed, in a situation such as ours.
We'll talk more at the celebration, face to face. I'm looking forward to it.
((on that note, did you want to handwave ahead and play out some of the party?))
[The party, as it turns out, is a bit more than Alivian expects. Of course, it's already started by the time he arrives, with music and dancing in tandem. The wolf hesitates at first - not forgetting that he's welcome, but feeling the errant stirring of unwanted recollections. Were he the type to wear all of his emotions on his face, he might have bitten his lip in thought. As it is, he eventually braves the throngs of people, tugging his hood up tighter over his head in order to shield himself from the discomfort of so many people. As head of the Control Bureau at home, he doesn't have a lot of people around him at once - most matters are taken care of by those on the backbone rungs.
[But-- Zevlor is harder to see in the night by firelight, and everyone's features are muddled by a dark blue hue. Effectively, he's close to blind. For such a large person, Alivian's long stride is careful and slightly stilted, fingers tightening their grasp on the cords that pull the hood shut, and fussing with the knotted ends.
[He hasn't memorized Zevlor's scent yet, and-- well. Now he knows what he meant by "scent of brimstone". It's pungent and unappealing, for sure!]
I suppose we'll find out the truth when we reach the Gate. He claims his works are sold in several bookstores around the city. We'll get to see who's buying them. [He follows Hal's example, draining the dregs of his own cup and offering it to Mol for a refill, with a coin and a wry smile. Part of him feels that perhaps he ought to have discouraged her and her kids from the life of petty crime they seem to be aiming for, but it's not his place. That, and she's done as much to contribute to the survival of these little ones as he has, himself.
He taps mugs lightly, but waits a moment before drinking, looking at the light on the surface of the liquid as if hoping it might tell him something about the future.] Best we make sure they're in good condition for the next leg of the journey. The Risen Road may be clear of gnolls for the moment, but after that we'll be crossing the Shadowlands.
I was under the impression that meant he stands in several bookstores trying to sell them, but let's make a day of trying to find one in the wild, shall we? [ It's his duty to report to the Upper City upon his arrival–his council is no doubt anxious to reconvene–but Hal suspects his men won't complain if he gives them leave to explore the lower half of the city for a bit. An indulgence he wouldn't mind partaking in after he helps to escort Zevlor's people to the Gate. ]
We should have limited the libations long before now if that's the case. [ Hal hums his amusement before casting his eyes towards the lake the camp is nestled beside. Its still darkness is a void he knows will rival the Shadowlands. He shakes himself of the nagging unease and gives Zevlor a gentle bump with his shoulder. ] It will certainly make for a quiet morning if nothing else. I don't think any of our people will be up with the sun at this rate.
[Now, that prompts a real laugh, deep and rumbly in Zevlor's natural baritone.] Proposal accepted. If we can find any, I'll have him sign a copy for you.
[It will surely appreciate in value after Volo gets himself killed chasing goblin or dragons or some other harebrained idea.
His expression softens as he looks back over the crowd of celebratory tieflings. Yes, he really should have restrained them a little more, but on the other hand, this really could be their last night to feel something like joy and relief. The journey ahead of them, even with Hal's assistance is by no means assured of a happy end.] I didn't have the heart to tell them to hold back. If we have to delay for a day, let the blame rest on me.
[Judging from the tone in his new friend's voice, he doubts he'll be too annoyed with him.] You may be wrong yet, though. If they don't go to bed before sunrise, they'll be up.
[ Hal's grin broadens and it takes effort to smother a laugh of his own even if he wants to chase the noise for want of the companionship that comes with it. Instead, he licks the front of his teeth as if to ponder the offer and an amused fondness colors the words that come next. ] My library will be the envy of the coast. You'll be welcome to it anytime should you regret giving up such a treasure.
[ When the roll of his shoulders doesn't amplify any of his aches, Hal shifts to lean an elbow on one of the upright wine barrels, letting it take some of his weight since he can feel the heaviness of the drink. ] My men would certainly appreciate it and it would make you a hero to the camp after, well, all of this.
[ This time, in spite of himself, the laughter sneaks up on him and Hal has to hide some of the sound against the brim of his mug. ] So much for letting the drink lull us to sleep.
[ It will take more than what's in their cups to pass out tonight.
As if on cue, the trumpeting of Volo's singing voice booms above the music, adding to the sound of the festivities. ]
It's the part of a commander, and a ruler, to be well-read. [He's deadpan here, utterly earnest save for the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.] Supplying your library is the least I can do.
Mm. A day's delay might be a good idea, in fact, if only to check our inventory of supplies. My quartermaster passed out a few hours ago, poor girl, but she deserves the rest.
[Zevlor breaks into an approving grin at the laughter. Privately, he wonders why the other man seeks to hide it. It's not as if he'd be the only one making merry, and most are far louder, Volo being a case in point.]
You know, you're allowed to enjoy yourself, as well. In case anyone told you otherwise.
Only the finest for me, I see. [ Their remarks are echoes of the same sentiment, an edge of jest in Hal's own that are softened with his own smile.
The day ahead will be marked by hungover soldiers stiff from battle and booze along with civilians who are likely to learn for the first time what kind of aches come with combat. He's grateful that number is few, at least. Although Volo could have stood to be thumped once or twice were anyone to ask. ]
Ask any of my men and I'm sure they would tell you I used to enjoy myself plenty. Enough for a lifetime, even. [ The edge of something impish curves the corner of his mouth, promising secrets that are best shared after more wine and many more battles, before Hal's gaze flicks towards the racket. He nods at the spectacle. ]
When he's ceased his bleating, perhaps I'll be more receptive, but until then I must ask that you put up with my company, vexed as it stands. [ His mouth broadens into a grin and this quiet ease is more indulgent than any excess of wine. ]
So I should tell them that blood is likely a bad idea?
It seems as though there are sometimes certain assumptions about my particular tastes. That people seek me out for what they think I will do to them.
They have been my tastes in the past but... I want something new. Something different. Something that means I can wake up with somebody the next morning without them being in five different pieces. It isn't too much to ask?
[There's something about this whole conversation that's rubbing Zevlor the wrong way, though, and surprisingly, it's not fear of what the Dark Urge might do. He sits with the thought for a moment, rereading the message he's been sent a few times. Finally:]
You do know that you can say no to things, as well? You're not required to be what anyone wants you to be, lover or not. You're free to turn people down, and free to refuse specific acts with the people you want to bed.
[Are people looking at the potential power and brutality of this man and missing the injuries he bears? Or is Zevlor just being precious here?]
I was made not to say no, or to be anything but what I was created for.
Maybe that's a harder habit to break than I had thought.
It hadn't occurred to me I could refuse for more than just my concern over somebody else's safety. That I have my own preferences that I'm able to voice.
I feel defective if I don't indulge urges... and also defective if I do.
All of us are more than the sum of our parts. Regardless of where you come from, or what you've done in the past, you have a right to make your own decisions now.
Perhaps you should take care when choosing your lovers for a while. To give yourself a chance to decide what your preferences actually are. You will always be able to find someone who wants to be pinned to a wall with a hand around their throat later.
The kind of suffering you've experienced leaves a mark inside you, more than just the scars on your skin. Have patience with yourself.
Of course. My apologies if I did not make my meaning plain. I must confess that my own tenets make it quite difficult to imagine being beholden to a banner rather than those who live beneath it.
[ probably not worth it for most regents to manipulate the Care-a-Lot squad of paladins to wage resource wars when the crown oath and glory oath boys are right over there ]
Your dedication is no less impressive for what has happened - indeed, more impressive. It is a contemptible thing, that such devotion was met with betrayal. I am sorry that it happened.
[ He's not deep enough in his cups to be sloppy, but just deep enough to start looking on stones unturned - ones he would have no business plucking at in sobriety.
It's strange, to look at the story told to him while his own remains smeary in his periphery. Godfrey had chosen his path as a young boy, also. He had built a fence so that he would not stray, and he had shut the gates on forking branches as he came to pass them. He had been just as single-minded, just as young.
Why does it only strike him as unusual to do so when he sees another young boy latching away those other paths?
He pauses a moment, before prodding gently at this line of questioning, as much asking himself as Zevlor; ]
To serve the realm, the city, and the greater good. To serve all good people. To uphold the law. I tried to care more for the people than the banners. I can't swear to it that pride never got in the way of that.
[The pain in his chest fades to a dull heaviness, quiet sorrow settling in. Eventually, once his kin are safe, he'll have to address it. Maybe there's a way to rebuild yet, but for now it just...exists. Like an open wound.
Nostalgia does ease it slightly, though.] Would you believe I wanted to be a healer, initially? My elder sister was always rather sickly. But she used to read to me, and play little games with me on the counterpane as she laid in bed. My toy lion and the little carven horses I had went on hundreds of adventures together across that old quilt.
I wanted to fix things for her. As any brother would.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-08-11 05:55 pm (UTC)[There was a time he would have argued vehemently against her characterization of paladins. An Oath is an Oath, after all, and there are a handful of types of oaths, but only so much flexibility to invest one's own personal opinions within each one.
He would have said that, before. Now, having learned the truth about what he once swore to, he's too uncertain to offer a contradiction. He's also painfully aware that that's a weakness, a glaring one, that someone so inclined could exploit.
No, it's not her virtue he's concerned about, not half so much as his own.
In any case, he makes his way quietly toward the location she's indicated, and waits silently in the shadows nearby for more than half an hour to make sure the place isn't watched. Stealth is not his first instinct, but he is capable. Eventually, seeing nothing untoward, he enters via a door in the back of the building.
Once inside, he doesn't call out, but he makes no effort to silence his footsteps, either. If she's what he thinks she might be, she'll know he's there.]
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Date: 2024-08-11 08:01 pm (UTC)Though the rain confounds her ear to the rhythm of his gait his presence is not unexpected in light of their correspondence. Broken remnants of copperware perish like fossils under his soles and the boards creek like little tattletales awoken by the opportunity to betray. Even the specialised eyes of a tiefling might fight to discern the shapes of things in the uninterrupted darkness of the boarded house, a three-legged table here, an empty bookshelf there. But most discernible of all is the sensation of being watched. ]
You have come. Though I had you all so bothered.
[ Juvenile laughter trickles from the darkness where among the silhouettes of statics is a figure of some sort. A sharp sound coincides with an orange spark in the gloom like flint striking fire steel and the wick of the candle ignites, rendering intelligibility to his surroundings.
The young girl is sitting on a chair and holding a candlestick as if in toast. Her dress is black. Her leg is crossed over a knee in an oddly adult fashion with a suggestion of pale skin under her opaque, black tights. ]
Brave paladin.
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Date: 2024-08-11 10:07 pm (UTC)Indeed. I was led to believe you needed help. [He answers, voice mild and measured, though the laughter does send chills down his spine. No, definitely not a child. He squints slightly for a moment, eyes readjusting to the candlelight, and then steps closer, almost but not quite within arm's reach of her. From here, his height gives him a physical advantage, though that may matter little.]
But I am all too aware of how easily my own better nature can be used against me. Hence my caution. But for whatever it's worth, there appears to be no one watching this place unless they're a druid in wildshape. I saw nothing but rats and birds.
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Date: 2024-08-11 10:58 pm (UTC)But she is not so cornered, not with her new acquaintance in the picture. She is circumspect about presuming his character as a given, his better nature, but his arrival does lend it credence.
His report is answered with a curt smile. ]
Thank you.
[ She lifts her chin for the great discrepancy in height. Blood-red eyes in the orbits of her tiny skull. ]
My name is Dorothea. The men whom I anticipate mean cut out my heart. I think you know why.
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Date: 2024-08-12 01:20 am (UTC)Vampires are dangerous, no matter how small and sweet-faced they are, and she may be far more powerful than she seems. By the same token, a vampire can't help but feed on the blood of the living, so assisting one is potentially holding candle to assault or murder. But a child does not ask to become a vampire or their spawn. This situation was not of her own making, no matter how long ago she was changed, and it's probable that she has experienced years of suffering.]
It's funny...the last of the vampires in Elturel were banished when I was a child no bigger than you. I never saw any until after the fall into Avernus. [And then he met Astarion. Enough said.]
You can call me Zevlor. Whatever titles I once held are no longer applicable. Do you ask for me to fight these men, or just to get you out of their reach?
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Date: 2024-08-12 06:25 pm (UTC)Has it crossed his mind what might occur if he had a change of heart at this juncture, after having witnessed her face and heard her name? There is no intimation that he is under duress save that established by the nature of her being. ]
My blood is of a particularly old extraction. Certain distinctions between myself and your neighbours apply, but for all intents and purposes...
[ The girl spreads her arms. ]
I am a vampire.
[ She laces her fingers over her knee in an attitude of erudition. ]
For each hunter dead another is roused to take up the cause. There is always a son or daughter.
[ They were killed in the old days, entire lineages eradicated for the offence of one hunter. How the tables have turned, master.
Dorotha smiles with her teeth. ]
On the matter of daughters—make me yours. My pursuers search for a lone waif.
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Date: 2024-08-11 10:13 pm (UTC)Your understanding is appreciated. [And if that sounds stilted, it's only because of the medium. Zevlor is grateful, has to be, for any empathy his kin receive.]
We're on our way to the city of Baldur's Gate. It is...known as a melting pot, of sorts. One assumes it won't be an easy life to settle into, but at least we can hope there are so many races there, those that would hold ours against us will be fewer and further between.
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Date: 2024-08-12 12:54 am (UTC)I see. I am still learning about Faerûn, so this information is incredibly helpful.
Should you ever need a reprieve from the journey, there are some spaces where my kind have established gates between Faerûn and Cramea. Should you find such a gate in such a journey, or -- should you decide to allow me to accompany you -- I would be happy to escort you to the nearest one should you desire it. I can mark on your map later which gates go where, though if you should find yourself entering Silver Wing, Rowena, I welcome you there. Our laws stipulate to allow any newcomers from any world or plane to acquire their basic needs for the duration of their stay. Safe housing, food, work, if it's desired.
Although our people are set in their ways, embracing the differences of others is - for the most part - one of our strengths. With... the odd exception. Mostly, however, the issues are targeted at our own kind, or, especially, towards myself.
I am the head officer of the Control Bureau there. Your people deserve a warm and kind welcome. Should you wish to head that way, I will personally welcome you and work with you to make sure that those who wish to stay are given the gentle care that they are long overdue.
My offer does not have an end date.
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Date: 2024-08-12 02:05 am (UTC)Well, it would do the children good.
Dimly, he's aware of what Alivian has said regarding himself, and he's curious, concerned, but in the light of the potential respite for his kin, he can't focus on his right now.]
I will have to consult with some of my kin. My lieutenant and some of the families. I...
I want to accept on their behalf right away, but that would be unfair. Come to the party. Meet them. Perhaps that will be reassuring to some of them.
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Date: 2024-08-12 02:38 am (UTC)I shall attend, and I hope I represent myself respectfully to your kin, Sir Zevlor.
[While he mentioned his own woes, it wasn't to trouble Zevlor, but to offer an attempt at an unbiased view - their merits, and the flaws of his own people. To only offer the rosy view of his beloved homeland would be disingenuous, and potentially cruel.]
Take whatever time you require on the matter, and no less. I am still but a stranger, and it would take, I'm certain, a considerable leap of faith at this juncture to move forward with it.
Regardless, it's a matter that requires an informed response. You have my blessing to question and press me on any matters you deem important to you and yours.
Same goes to all of your kin. Especially if they wish to ask on such matters at a party. I do look forward to meeting them.
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Date: 2024-08-14 03:19 am (UTC)You may be a stranger, but you've offered us more kindness than most. That does not go unnoticed, in a situation such as ours.
We'll talk more at the celebration, face to face. I'm looking forward to it.
((on that note, did you want to handwave ahead and play out some of the party?))
Hell yes, party time! Time for Alivian to be an awkward half-blind wallflower.
Date: 2024-08-14 05:15 am (UTC)[The party, as it turns out, is a bit more than Alivian expects. Of course, it's already started by the time he arrives, with music and dancing in tandem. The wolf hesitates at first - not forgetting that he's welcome, but feeling the errant stirring of unwanted recollections. Were he the type to wear all of his emotions on his face, he might have bitten his lip in thought. As it is, he eventually braves the throngs of people, tugging his hood up tighter over his head in order to shield himself from the discomfort of so many people. As head of the Control Bureau at home, he doesn't have a lot of people around him at once - most matters are taken care of by those on the backbone rungs.
[But-- Zevlor is harder to see in the night by firelight, and everyone's features are muddled by a dark blue hue. Effectively, he's close to blind. For such a large person, Alivian's long stride is careful and slightly stilted, fingers tightening their grasp on the cords that pull the hood shut, and fussing with the knotted ends.
[He hasn't memorized Zevlor's scent yet, and-- well. Now he knows what he meant by "scent of brimstone". It's pungent and unappealing, for sure!]
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Date: 2024-08-11 10:29 pm (UTC)I suppose we'll find out the truth when we reach the Gate. He claims his works are sold in several bookstores around the city. We'll get to see who's buying them. [He follows Hal's example, draining the dregs of his own cup and offering it to Mol for a refill, with a coin and a wry smile. Part of him feels that perhaps he ought to have discouraged her and her kids from the life of petty crime they seem to be aiming for, but it's not his place. That, and she's done as much to contribute to the survival of these little ones as he has, himself.
He taps mugs lightly, but waits a moment before drinking, looking at the light on the surface of the liquid as if hoping it might tell him something about the future.] Best we make sure they're in good condition for the next leg of the journey. The Risen Road may be clear of gnolls for the moment, but after that we'll be crossing the Shadowlands.
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Date: 2024-08-11 11:15 pm (UTC)We should have limited the libations long before now if that's the case. [ Hal hums his amusement before casting his eyes towards the lake the camp is nestled beside. Its still darkness is a void he knows will rival the Shadowlands. He shakes himself of the nagging unease and gives Zevlor a gentle bump with his shoulder. ] It will certainly make for a quiet morning if nothing else. I don't think any of our people will be up with the sun at this rate.
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Date: 2024-08-12 02:17 am (UTC)[It will surely appreciate in value after Volo gets himself killed chasing goblin or dragons or some other harebrained idea.
His expression softens as he looks back over the crowd of celebratory tieflings. Yes, he really should have restrained them a little more, but on the other hand, this really could be their last night to feel something like joy and relief. The journey ahead of them, even with Hal's assistance is by no means assured of a happy end.] I didn't have the heart to tell them to hold back. If we have to delay for a day, let the blame rest on me.
[Judging from the tone in his new friend's voice, he doubts he'll be too annoyed with him.] You may be wrong yet, though. If they don't go to bed before sunrise, they'll be up.
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Date: 2024-08-12 03:43 am (UTC)[ When the roll of his shoulders doesn't amplify any of his aches, Hal shifts to lean an elbow on one of the upright wine barrels, letting it take some of his weight since he can feel the heaviness of the drink. ] My men would certainly appreciate it and it would make you a hero to the camp after, well, all of this.
[ This time, in spite of himself, the laughter sneaks up on him and Hal has to hide some of the sound against the brim of his mug. ] So much for letting the drink lull us to sleep.
[ It will take more than what's in their cups to pass out tonight.
As if on cue, the trumpeting of Volo's singing voice booms above the music, adding to the sound of the festivities. ]
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Date: 2024-08-13 12:46 am (UTC)Mm. A day's delay might be a good idea, in fact, if only to check our inventory of supplies. My quartermaster passed out a few hours ago, poor girl, but she deserves the rest.
[Zevlor breaks into an approving grin at the laughter. Privately, he wonders why the other man seeks to hide it. It's not as if he'd be the only one making merry, and most are far louder, Volo being a case in point.]
You know, you're allowed to enjoy yourself, as well. In case anyone told you otherwise.
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Date: 2024-08-13 02:41 am (UTC)The day ahead will be marked by hungover soldiers stiff from battle and booze along with civilians who are likely to learn for the first time what kind of aches come with combat. He's grateful that number is few, at least. Although Volo could have stood to be thumped once or twice were anyone to ask. ]
Ask any of my men and I'm sure they would tell you I used to enjoy myself plenty. Enough for a lifetime, even. [ The edge of something impish curves the corner of his mouth, promising secrets that are best shared after more wine and many more battles, before Hal's gaze flicks towards the racket. He nods at the spectacle. ]
When he's ceased his bleating, perhaps I'll be more receptive, but until then I must ask that you put up with my company, vexed as it stands. [ His mouth broadens into a grin and this quiet ease is more indulgent than any excess of wine. ]
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From:ooc: putting a nice lil bow on this to establish some ust
From:Yes, perfect
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Date: 2024-08-12 07:08 am (UTC)So I should tell them that blood is likely a bad idea?
It seems as though there are sometimes certain assumptions about my particular tastes. That people seek me out for what they think I will do to them.
They have been my tastes in the past but... I want something new. Something different. Something that means I can wake up with somebody the next morning without them being in five different pieces. It isn't too much to ask?
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Date: 2024-08-12 11:58 pm (UTC)[There's something about this whole conversation that's rubbing Zevlor the wrong way, though, and surprisingly, it's not fear of what the Dark Urge might do. He sits with the thought for a moment, rereading the message he's been sent a few times. Finally:]
You do know that you can say no to things, as well? You're not required to be what anyone wants you to be, lover or not. You're free to turn people down, and free to refuse specific acts with the people you want to bed.
[Are people looking at the potential power and brutality of this man and missing the injuries he bears? Or is Zevlor just being precious here?]
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Date: 2024-08-13 07:01 am (UTC)Maybe that's a harder habit to break than I had thought.
It hadn't occurred to me I could refuse for more than just my concern over somebody else's safety. That I have my own preferences that I'm able to voice.
I feel defective if I don't indulge urges... and also defective if I do.
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Date: 2024-08-14 12:47 am (UTC)Perhaps you should take care when choosing your lovers for a while. To give yourself a chance to decide what your preferences actually are. You will always be able to find someone who wants to be pinned to a wall with a hand around their throat later.
The kind of suffering you've experienced leaves a mark inside you, more than just the scars on your skin. Have patience with yourself.
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Date: 2024-08-14 09:11 am (UTC)He takes a moment to tease that apart before attempting a response. ]
So I should be looking for somebody safe?
That's not something I'm familiar with identifying or needing.
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From:sorry not sorry
From:Lol it was starting to feel inevitable there tbh
From:it really was >.>
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Date: 2024-08-13 09:00 pm (UTC)Of course. My apologies if I did not make my meaning plain. I must confess that my own tenets make it quite difficult to imagine being beholden to a banner rather than those who live beneath it.
[ probably not worth it for most regents to manipulate the Care-a-Lot squad of paladins to wage resource wars when the crown oath and glory oath boys are right over there ]
Your dedication is no less impressive for what has happened - indeed, more impressive. It is a contemptible thing, that such devotion was met with betrayal. I am sorry that it happened.
[ He's not deep enough in his cups to be sloppy, but just deep enough to start looking on stones unturned - ones he would have no business plucking at in sobriety.
It's strange, to look at the story told to him while his own remains smeary in his periphery. Godfrey had chosen his path as a young boy, also. He had built a fence so that he would not stray, and he had shut the gates on forking branches as he came to pass them. He had been just as single-minded, just as young.
Why does it only strike him as unusual to do so when he sees another young boy latching away those other paths?
He pauses a moment, before prodding gently at this line of questioning, as much asking himself as Zevlor; ]
Was there anything else you dreamed of as a boy?
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Date: 2024-08-14 03:35 am (UTC)[The pain in his chest fades to a dull heaviness, quiet sorrow settling in. Eventually, once his kin are safe, he'll have to address it. Maybe there's a way to rebuild yet, but for now it just...exists. Like an open wound.
Nostalgia does ease it slightly, though.] Would you believe I wanted to be a healer, initially? My elder sister was always rather sickly. But she used to read to me, and play little games with me on the counterpane as she laid in bed. My toy lion and the little carven horses I had went on hundreds of adventures together across that old quilt.
I wanted to fix things for her. As any brother would.