silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

[Not my manor, thinks Isley, but what he says is:]

The Mist would claim him, if it hasn't already. I'm sorry, Yaha, but...this is the way things work here in Anatole.

[He steps closer and kneels, looking at the elf.]

It's a fortunate thing for the Mist, however. It means his body will not decay, that the memories you will have of him will always remain those where he is handsome.

Besides, I think his presence would be a novelty around...our home. You would only take comfort in it for a little while, and then the absence of a response would cause you great anguish and distress. I'd prefer not to see you troubled in such a way.

[Meaning, he doesn't want to listen to the whining and crying and carrying on.]

[ Turning over on his side, he looks up at Isley. ]

He is very handsome, isn't he? You saw him... so you can attest to his looks. I told Anders that while I do not lust after him, I do not mind if others... in fact, I would like them to... it means that he was loved and wanted.

[ He rubs the side of his face against the ground. ]

I suppose. Yes, you are right. I would miss his voice and eventually, his voice may sound like my own in my head.

Yes, a remarkably handsome man.

[Actually, Isley can scarcely recall Orsino's face having only seen it a handful of times, but he remembers that the man wasn't what one might consider an eyesore. He was...not unattractive.]

I'm certain he was loved.

[...Well, no, he's not, but it hardly matters. He sounds sure, and that's what counts.]

The stone turned out rather nicely, didn't it? [Still kneeling next to the elf, Isley turns his gaze toward the headstone shaped like a phoenix.]

It is a shame there are those that will not know --

[ His eyes widen before he stands up. Brushing off the dirt from his clothes, he holds his hand out in front of him. Lips moving to a silent incantation, the air shifts as he makes an illusion in the shape of the mage in question. His smile is a broken one as he goes to hug the form, before he sighs in content. ]

Of course, Father is loved. [ "Orsino" remains still, unmoving, little more than a stuffed animal conjured up. ]

I think it does. [ Yaha peers over the illusion's shoulder to the headstone. ] I think that he will like it very much. His spirit lives on and on.

[The conjuration reminds Isley too much of the apparitions that the Mist produces far out into the Ruins. Though it might be a comfort to the elf, as Isley stands, his expression is disapproving.]

Yaha.

[A step is taken toward the elf, and a hand placed upon his shoulder.]

[You shouldn't waste your magic this way. There are better uses for it.]

This isn't healthy.

[ He looks over his shoulder, bottom lip jutting out at the sight of the disapproving look. ]

I know. [ Yaha looks at "Orsino." He reaches his hand up to pry he illusion's eye open. ] I can never breathe life into their sight. It always looks dead. [ Flicking his index finger against the eyeball a few times, he eventually lowers his hand. ]

[Isley catches Yaha's wrist next.]

Enough of that. It's unsightly.

[Says a people-eater. Pun unintended.]

That may not be Orsino, and it may not have the glimmer of the man's soul behind his eyes, but it is still in his image.

[Releasing Yaha's wrist, Isley folds his arms over his chest and sighs. He regrets now not having lectured Anders about the clumsiness of his announcement. It had occurred to him then, but he'd bitten his tongue and had hoped for the best.]

[I ought to have expected this outcome, though. Both men are completely irrational...]

We should go indoors. Besides, I have something for you. Something warmer than conjured illusions.

[ Ah.

He looks to Isley then, looking as though he has been struck. No, if he had been struck, he would actually enjoy that. This is more of a broken look upon hearing those words. Shame might actually make their way into his gaze, but he looks away instead.

Once his hand is free, he gestures a little to break the spell which he cast -- the "Orsino" before him disappears in a flash of bright light. ]

You are also right. His embrace is very cold.

[ Perking up just a little, he walks over to lightly reach out to grab and tug lightly on Isley's sleeve. ] A gift... for me? To ease my heart over what has happened with my father? Truly?

[Shame isn't something Isley has seen Yaha express before, not that he can ever remember. Of course, whether or not it's an honest expression, well...time will tell.]

[He permits Yaha to tug his sleeve, in any case, making no attempt to pull his arm away or put distance between himself and the elf.]

It's just a little something, but yes, I had hoped it might ease your troubled state of mind.

This time of year in Anatole, the denizens often find themselves bestowed with unique baskets full of delights suited to their personal tastes. Given my inclinations, I am not actually able to share mine with other people, and more often than not, it goes to waste. Except that this year is different. You're here.

[Wining and dining with Rigaldo is not something he does, and seeing as how Priscilla does not much care for his diet, despite her tolerance of it due to it being an unarguable necessity, there is only Yaha.]

[He steps in the direction of the doors leading into the Mess Hall from the side yard.]

This way. I'll show you what I mean.

Is that what that was?

[ He blinks a little before he reaches down to the ground. It opens up to grant him a basket. Here he thought that it is something that Anders gave him, but all the same, he follows after Isley. ]

I did not -- I thought it was a gift from someone sad that Father is gone. Wishing to offer me sympathies. But... I suppose not. [ He lifts it up to lightly chew on the handle of the basket as he walks. ] I'd like to share this with you, too. I don't know what to do with all my emotions.

They'll be chaotic, but you handle them marvelously... so I think we will be all right with sharing of the meals, yes?

Ah, you received one, too? I'm not surprised.

[He smiles, peering a little more closely at Yaha's basket as they walk. There is an enticing smell emanating from it...]

It would be nice if they came from fellow Scorched and had more of a defined purpose, but instead they are...purposeless. Except that in the food within, and the wine, are often self-replenishing for a few days. It may have something to do with an Earth celebration for giving thanks. Somewhat appropriate still for the timing of Orsino's passing.

[At the doors, Isley draws them open and allows Yaha to enter first, following him into the Mess Hall. A long table surrounded by benches stands before them. It's rustic, but clean and cozy. And on the table? Isley's basket, various items from within it already set out. Strawberries, because he has something of an affinity for them, a couple bottles of wine, and...cuts of meat. Uncooked and miraculously still warm. Still...a little bloody.]

I'm not certain I handle your emotions well, but I'm pleased you think I do. [...] Take a seat. Get comfortable.

I don't give thanks to his going. [ He sighs just slightly.

His steps are light before he comes to the table, and smiles slightly at the meal, before taking his seat. It occurs to him that he shall never share another meal with Orsino. Somehow that makes him feel ill. To lose a father another third time, he tips his head back as he starts to laugh. It's funny, because he cannot keep any family close. His laughter carries on and seems to echo in the Mess Hall. It's funny because it seems he is mistaken with the Gods. They are continue to make him be alone. The only elf. It is like his existence negates all others. Is that his fault? Is it? No, it's fate's. The Gods' of his world's curse upon him.

The hysteria fades as he sets his basket down on the surface finally. Tears from his laughter rolling down his cheeks as he peers to see what it is that he has -- ]

Oh, looks like there are some cheeses and meat... and wine here, too... How tasty.

I would never ask you to give thanks to that...

[Wandering around the table and coming to the other side, Isley neatly arranges himself across from Yaha.]

...I would only ask you to be thankful for the beautiful headstone, for those that remember him fondly, for the Mist as it will keep him forever beautiful, and for company - if I may suggest that. It is, after all, better not to be alone when coping with remorse.

[Allowing Yaha's laughter to pan out, Isley occupies himself with opening the wine and pouring two glasses full. The contents of the bottle refills itself shortly after being set down.]

I hope you don't think that I expect you to overcome this loss easily; I don't. But I would like to do everything in my power to assist you through this time. We are, after all, close.

[As close as being a flatmate allows, at least. And even that is fragile in its existence.]

I shall be thankful for such things. And I realize that there is a curse upon my existence that I did not know until I came to this place. The Gods chose me to live in my world. For whatever reason, they saw reason for me to continue on. It's touching in a way, but I was the last of my kind. And now that I am in this world, it seems like I would have solidarity... but that would break the kindness the Gods gave me. To be the last. To live. And so it is taken from me.

I know of their existence, but do not believe nor worship them.

[ No. He did not believe in them, at all. Instead, he fashioned his own altar and room that seemed so very holy and bright within his citadel. He would bring people to be sacrificed, tortured, and other horrors would grace their flesh before death would finally come to them. Yes, he would defile what it is to be sacred and show the Gods that he will not kneel before them. They are the only betters that he will not, because of their cruelty. ]

Upon that realization, it is easier to accept Orsino's passing.

[ He reaches in to pull out some of the flesh that he spoke of. Red and dripping, he lifts it up to sniff the meat. ]

Oh... I remember this... [ His mouth waters just a little. ] I cannot partake in this meal here... the people would think it ghastly. Do you know what beast this came from?

[Isley pushes a glass of wine at Yaha.]

Mm...I find it difficult to believe a curse from your world could follow you through the Door and into this place. The power of other gods doesn't take root here.

[Rather, he thinks Yaha is out of his gourd and has a tendency to make excuses for the poor state of his mentality. Blaming others, gods, and curses...that sort of lark.]

[He lifts his cup to his lips, eyes on his drink, and takes the smallest of sips. He knows how potent the gift basket alcohol can be, so it is best to proceed with caution. Not that he doesn't make it look as though he is taking a bigger sip than he really is.]

But, perhaps I am wrong.

[Whatever helps you cope, Yaha.]

As for that...a beast called man. Eat to your heart's content. You're my guest here and I'll not deny you food. And, as there is no one else here but us, no one will frown upon your consuming that flesh, least of all me.

[ He picks up the glass and sniffs the liquid first. His smile blossoms anew when he approves of what it is that he is given. ]

I think that would be underestimating my Gods.

[ Lifting the glass up, he drinks deep and feels it warm his entire body almost immediately. He blinks slightly as his vision seems to become fuzzy in the same manner. Ara? ]

I am touched that you're able to tell that so easily. I [ He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand to help his sight but it seems to make it worse. ] cannot eat such things. I usually share it with my children. It's not cannibalism because I am not a human. Raise by, yes, but that does not make me one of them. That has been clear to me. How funny they are.

[ The glass is set down a little roughly that some of the wine splatters onto his hand. He licks it off before he tears some of the flesh off in pieces. But doesn't eat. Yaha just continues to rip and tear at it until there is little but mush and red where he is sitting. ] Funny, funny, funny...

Underestimating? I don't think so. I believe it's being entirely realistic. There is a power in this place that seems to negate other powers. Gods have found their way here and their strengths have been rendered less effective than they would be ordinarily. It's just a fact.

[Isley shrugs, his gaze wandering from his cup to his guest without so much as tilting his head.]

Anyway, the scent of human flesh is unmistakable to me because of what I am.

[...]

But what do you mean, you can't eat it? What stops you?

[He sets his cup down to reach across the table, one hand firmly falling upon Yaha's to cease the senseless tearing of meat before him.]

You're terribly messy when it comes to handling food. [Not something he often tells anyone, except for Luciela.] If you don't like it, don't ruin it for others. There are strawberries and select types of cheeses you can eat instead.

Just a fact. It is not a fact that I can accept. Because then what reason am I once more alone.

[ He scratches his nose then, smearing some of the meat and red across. His face feels hot and already shows a cherry glow. ]

Only a few days of it filling up, then my mouth will miss the flavor... it will miss it oh so much and then I'll have to sink my teeth into some of the people here and eat them until I am full. I am surprised you can stop yourself.

[ His mouth waters just a little before he looks up at the hand settles down on his once more. He rubs his face and nose, with his free hand -- more red smearing and dripping down to splatter into his lap. ]

I like it. I shall eat nicely now. [ He takes a smaller tear that he has made of the flesh and slip it into his mouth. ]

[Retracting his hand, Isley scoops up a napkin from beside the basket and cleans off the back of his hand. The spaces in between his fingers are next, tended to with precision and patience.]

Have you given up looking for the Red Elves of the Mist?

[The napkin, once he is finished, is set aside. The wine taken up once more in its stead, lightly sipped, slowly...]

Admittedly, the consumption of human meat is frowned upon by many, but I find it much harder to resist if I go for extended periods without eating. A little here, a little there...it suffices. I tend not to eat in excess because it would draw too much attention, and because it simply isn't necessary for me to do so.

[Idly, with his free hand, Isley reaches into the basket to pick out a less bloody morsel. It's examined for a moment before, with a little smile, he pushes it past his lips.]

I'm glad you're not entirely resistant to the idea of partaking in these delights, however. It would be a shame...especially as this is the last meal that you and I will be having in the company of one another.

I have not really given up on them. But I wonder if they will accept me.

[ His hand reaches out to pick up the wine glass to drink more. At this point, his neck starts to turn a red shade to indicate just how drunk the deranged elf is become. Still, his tone is conversational and without slurring. In fact, he enunciates his words a little more as though to prove he is not being affected. ]

I suppose nibbling is better than holding off on what it is that you want.

[ Glass once more set down as he lifts a larger piece of meat up to chew on the corner. His head lifts up when he hears this is their last meal as the piece of flesh slides out of his mouth to his lap then floor. ]

What do you mean? We will have more. We live together, after all.

[Isley sighs, samples another morsel, then refills Yaha's cup and the small portion he has drank from his own.]

I'm not certain if they'll accept you, but you'll never know unless you try a little harder to find them.

[Setting the bottle down, he leans back and watches the other man, observes his reactions, and thinks, This won't go as smoothly as I'd like it to. That much I was right about.]

[Taking another drink - now starting to feel the warmth - Isley says:]

We don't live together anymore, I'm afraid. I cannot be expected to live with a thief. Of course, I won't cruelly put you out without a place to go, either...which is why I've arranged to have some more pillows and blankets brought here. You may use one of the rooms in the basement until you find better accommodations, but I expect that to be before the week is up.

[He shakes his head, silver hair falling over his shoulders.]

...I also expect back what you stole. Maps, I believe it was? Were you so naive as to think I wouldn't miss them, Yaha?

If they don't accept me, I shall simply end their existence. I would hate to do so. I would hate to have to be alone with no other elves, but I cannot be hated by my own kind, too. Father accepted me for all the derangement that I hold inside myself... I won't accept anyone but those like him. He is just like I thought the elves would be toward me.

[ His hands settle on his face as he almost digs his nails into the flesh to tear it off. But he settles for just pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Looking more and more disheveled as the conversation goes on.

He drags his hands down off of his face as to show the surprised expression. Yaha almost says that he is not a thief before he sits down carefully and looks away. ]

I did not think they were important...

That's one way to handle rejection, I suppose.

[...]

Anyway, if you did not think the maps had any significance, you would not have taken them in the first place. There would have been no need to.

[Swirling the alcohol in his cup, Isley studies his reflection in the red liquid. He studies it in silence, while pressing another tidbit of human flesh between his lips, dabbing his fingertips off on the napkin, afterwards.]

I want them back, Yaha. They belong to me and to the Order. Do not make worse this rift between us, hm? I'm...seldom this forgiving, so it would be in your best interest to do as I ask. Cooperate.

[ He looks away for a moment before he makes a small gesture to the door. His hand opens to move his fingers to call to his precious children. A gnome walks in, stumbling and feeling the affects of the drink completely in its body. Running into one of the tables, it waddles in a crooked manner to Isley before reaching under its hat to hand the maps back to the man.

Yaha's head slams onto the table, hard enough to have a bruise suddenly appear on the gnome's face. He is not happy. ]

[If Isley is surprised at all by the sudden slamming of Yaha's head into the table, he doesn't show it. He calmly accepts the maps from the gnome, shoos it away with a simple gesture, and altogether ignores the bruise upon its head as he looks back to his guest.]

What did you intend to do with these? Go to Erebos on your own, perhaps? Sell them?

[...]

Were you asked by someone else to procure them?

[He eyes the documents, then carefully tucks them inside his cloak.]

Lift your head and look at me.

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