silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

[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.

[ The elf is silent as he listens to what it is that Isley has to say. ]

You are the one that should have to change. It is hardly my fault that I am without sanity. This is something that was forced upon me.

[ He looks away, dejected. ]

It isn't up for debate.

[Taking the bucket and a rag, Isley heads back toward the Mess Hall. He is no stranger to manual work, and even founded the Order on the grounds its members pull their share of the work in every existing way possible.]

[At the door he stops, however, glancing back at the elf.]

Use the water in the sink to clean yourself. Please be thorough. I may not be able to stay here with you tonight, but I don't intend to leave you on your own, either.

I will be on my own? Will Rigardo come to spend time with me?

[ He turns to look toward Isley then. His shoulders remain slumped as he kneels down to gently touch the ground. Lips moving in the same manner of before when he calls his illusions to appear. His anger is having little outlet, but the drink has him forget what spell to properly word to create. This only makes a wall abruptly appear in front of Isley which works well enough as he walks to the sink to clean himself.

A single strike will break the illusion, but he hardly cares. He is not in the mood to be helpful. ]

Edited 2012-11-23 02:55 (UTC)

[The wall captures Isley's attention for a moment. He reaches out a free hand curiously to touch it, but able to sense that it is not real, he sings his arm and dispels the illusion.]

[...Already he feels sorry for Anders, but he expects the mage is better equipped for dealing with Yaha.]

I will not be calling Rigaldo for this.

[He pushes open the door and says as he leaves the elf to his petulance:]

It's Anders that I will be summoning here.

[Now it's a simple matter of cleaning up the mess before calling the other man, that way there are fewer questions to be asked.]

No.

[ Grabbing the nearest item, he throws it at Isley's back. ]

Anders can't see me like this!

[Another time, if things were less unsteady, if the terms were better, the object might have been permitted to strike Isley - by Isley himself - but as it is, he turns, catching it in one hand, crushing it, and letting the mess of metal whatever-it-was fall to the floor noisily.]

Then, I suggest you get yourself cleaned up...and I suggest you get your act together. You waste time by arguing with me, and you waste my patience.

Then simply release that anger upon this body rather than bottle it up for the sake of appearances. It's troubling. Ever so troubling. I would rather that we make reconciliation through something other than words. There is no point in anything other than that... it is just words... or is that all that you are, Isley.

[ He steps back to return to the sink to start to clean himself up. ]

...You would enjoy that too much, Yaha. Besides, I reserve those kinds of actions for those that deserve my focus. Presently? You do not.

[He leaves it at that and exits the kitchen.]

[He won't be goaded into some kind of physical confrontation, not after all that's already happened. He would like to take the Victoria back to Anatole, to see Priscilla and reassure her with his presence in the city. Surely that will mean something to her? It will mean more to Isley than the gratification gained by turning Yaha into a bloody pulp, that is for sure.]

[In the Mess Hall, Isley focuses on cleaning up the baskets and opened bottle of wine. These things cannot be left lying about with samples of human flesh within them, so he will take them with him back to the city. Yaha can pick up his basket from his room when he moves his other belongings out.]

[As to the rest...the blood on the floor, the bench and table - the broken glass, splintered wood - these things Isley takes his time cleaning up, which is considerably less time given his proficiency when it comes to working.]

[And when it is all done? He pulls out his Forge to make a call to Anders...]

[ If Anders is truly coming, he goes to cleaning himself up. Soaking his shirt so to clean the red out of it, which does little to help. He pulls it off to continue with the vicious scrubbing to clean the red out of it as best he can -- takes a cloth to clean the red that is staining his skin. The color shall now be because of how hard that he has been scrubbing across his face and hair. It is a vicious and rather painful cleaning of himself.

His drunken self is not sobering up that much despite all that he tries -- vision still so fuzzy and he eventually feels that he is clean enough to tug the tunic back over his body to sit down against the sink, resting his head against his knees. ]

✖ IC CONTACT #3

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