silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

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.

I had no real plan for them. I merely thought that they would be useful to me one day, but I had yet to figure out when that day would be.

[ He shakes his head. ]

And, no.

Don't be difficult. I know that must be hard for you, but humor me.

[He lifts his cup to his lips, this time drinking a little more deeply. The alcohol soothes his irritation; it's liquid patience when he needs it the most.]

I'm disappointed in you. To be so reckless, to steal from me after all I've done for you, to steal without reason, you're lucky that I don't have your head and be done with it. You're lucky that I won't order the removal of Orsino's grave from my property, also. I won't...because I don't hate you.

[...]

No...I don't hate you. But we aren't friends, either. In fact...I'm not certain what we are, or what you are to me.

[You haven't been especially useful. You've caused me more headaches than you've managed to resolve.]

A bit of a nuisance, I suppose, although that is being rectified here and now. Maybe you'll join me in a toast to that? To retribution.

[He holds up his cup, out between them as though he honestly expects Yaha to oblige.]

This is hard for me.

[ He drags his face side to side against the table, smearing the meat into his face. ]

I was just upset about my father passing. I did not know what it was that I was doing. I did not even use what it is that you have taken back now. [ Yaha does pause as he hears that he is not hated. He blinks a few time, looking at the meat inches from his face.

He lifts his head up with some of the pieces sticking and eventually sliding off. Face still red from the alcohol, but hard to tell with what the meal has done to it. ]

I hope that we can one day be friends, again, though. I am sorry that I took from you and will try to do something in return so that you think fondly of me once more.

[ Reaching to take his glass, it miraculously did not tip over, he lifts it slightly to Isley. ]

Would it not be better to simply tear off my head so that I do not need to feel sorrow anymore? Wouldn't that be better? Then you would feel better in turn and we can go back to being friends.

I much prefer to see you suffer.

[He taps his glass against Yaha's and then drinks, smiling around the lip of the cup like a cat that has caught a mouse. A very bloody and miserable looking mouse.]

[As for his own expression, well, it's a bit of a wicked smile that he wears, and it lingers even when he sets the emptied cup down, gaze now robbed of some of its sharpness due to the alcohol.]

There's no going back. I'm afraid I don't take betrayal very lightly. Which means...you'll need to remove your belongings from my home soon. Once your week is up, I'll consider you to be a trespasser if I catch you lingering uninvited.

And if you should wrong me again in the future...perhaps you should think to appeal more to my acute sense of logic rather than my dampened sense of sympathy.

[ Yaha makes a soft whining noise. It does not seem to do much.

His eyes close as his head lowers. Reaching behind his back, he takes out the weapon that he ties to his person. Invisible and intangible until it weighs heavily in his hand. The elf sets the blade against his neck and starts to press it deep into the skin -- allowing the blood to rush down as he starts to decapitate himself at the table. ]

Oh, now you're just being dramatic.

[A soft sigh escapes him as he plants both hands upon the table top. Pushing himself up, he watches the blade Yaha wields as it is pressed into the tender flesh of his own neck, spilling blood down his front, across the table and down onto the bench and the floor.]

You've gone and made it so that cleaning up is going to be quite the chore for me.

[His yoki begins to rise, and in less time than it takes for a drop of blood to splatter into the accumulating puddle upon the stone tiled floor, Isley appears at Yaha's side. The blade is knocked from the elf's hands with one blow, and with the second, delivered to Yaha's midsection, Isley sends the elf through the glass doors at their backs.]

[Wood and glass splinter, scattering across the patio and grass...and as Isley approaches, they crunch softly under his heels.]

I wanted to do this without spilling blood...but I was prepared for some things to go awry rather than according to plan. This was one of them.

You're not going to die tonight, Yaha.

[Because Isley doesn't want the blame to be attributed to him.]

[ Yaha hardly cared if he has made things difficult, because his heart hurts at the thought of having to move over something he considers to be a little misunderstanding. He turns his head a little to help the tearing before the weapon is knocked out of his hands. In his drunken state, he thinks that he feels something but did not realize that it is Isley.

The elf looks up just in time to be struck through the glass doors. He rolls around on his side. The injury already starting to heal thanks to his children. Yet still he lies there dazed, the wind knocked out of him. Some bones might have been fractured. He looks up to Isley, blinking as he feels like he is sobering up just a little.

The cool air helping. ]

But ... I have wronged you.

Indeed, you have.

[He stands still, above Yaha and looking down upon him. If the alcohol has affected him at all for the amount he's consumed, it's in that Isley isn't certain what to do with the elf at this point. He does not wish to kill him, and even if he did, he cannot. He refuses to keep him in his home, especially knowing now that Priscilla disapproves...]

[But the very fact that Yaha just attempted to commit suicide on his property can't be overlooked, either. He meant to grant the elf one of the rooms in the basement of the Order headquarters as a place to sleep for now, but how can he leave him unsupervised in this condition?]

[Perhaps he could ask Anders to keep an eye on Yaha? He would need to clean everything up, first, to erase those traces of human flesh now lying about, but Yaha would behave around that man, wouldn't he? And Isley can trust Anders to keep an eye on the headquarters, being a member of the Order, himself.]

[...still staring. Probably for too long. Probably an effect also attributable to the alcohol.]

I'd rather you didn't pay for your transgression with your life. That isn't penance. It is cowardly, Yaha.

[He holds out his hand.]

Come, stand up.

My general would think otherwise.

[ The elf lifts his hand lightly to take hold of the offered hand. He wonders where his weapon has gone -- other than had skidded across the floor somewhere. Turning his head, he tore his neck a little more from the injury that his body is healing from as he stands. ]

If I have lost a friend, I see no reason to accept existing in this place.

[It's tempting in that moment to tear Yaha's arm off and beat him senseless with it, but Isley manages not to go to such extremes. Rather, he focuses on brushing some dirt and gore from the elf's cheek, plucking bits of meat and grass from his hair.]

...You're being absurd. You have other friends - friends that have been much kinder to you than I've been, I'm sure.

[He eyes the line along the elf's neck as it begins to heal. That is good, at least.]

Come back inside. We can get you cleaned up in the kitchen.

[And while you wash, I can set right the Mess Hall and...the door I broke. And see if I can convince Anders to come stay here for the night.]

It still hurts me deep inside to be without one friend. [ This may very well have come from only having Urick as a friend. No matter how many that he gathers, he remembers being alone and hating it. Hating that he had no one. Then he had one. Then he is back to be alone. Why? He can't remember. No, he remembers, but -- ]

Yes... I'll clean up... [ Following after Isley once more, he lowers his head as he feels his neck continue to heal. ]

You'll live.

[Figuratively and literally.]

It isn't as though...

[He trails off, quiet as he brings Yaha inside once more, leads him past the mess in the dining area and to the kitchen.]

[Isn't as though what? They won't still spend time with one another? Because that comes to an end with the theft of his property and Priscilla's ire. It isn't as though they won't talk? That may be doable, but speaking in person is not so likely, not unless certain behavioral patterns are changed.]

It isn't as though this is permanent, but I don't tell you that to get your hopes up.

[He leaves the elf near the counter in order to fill a bucket and the sink with hot, clean water.]

One never knows what the future holds...but I can assure you, if things don't change, there won't even be a future.

✖ IC CONTACT #3

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)