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Post by exile on Apr 17, 2007 16:53:07 GMT -5
After a brief but tense walk through the sinuous avenues of the Lower Ward, Hadrian was relieved to hear the door of the Wayfarer close shut behind him. The warm glow of the hearth felt reassuring on his face after the chill and glistening mists outside. He turned to regard Angwen companionably and offered his hand in a final gesture of thankfulness.
”I pray that there are more like you, cutter. Too many stalk the streets with eyes cast down at their feet, all but blind to their neighbors’ sufferings. You have my gratitude.”
Giving his brief farewells, the aasimar allowed himself a moment for his sight to adjust to the comparatively gleaming ambiance. A quick scan of the common room and his gaze fell upon the object of his desire. Hadrian’s spear rested easily against a wall next to a woman notable both for her most unusual heritage and elegant composure. (OOC: Assuming Nilou hasn’t left?)
Hadrian was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue but managed a genuine, if tired smile as he approached the table. He had long ago learned to presume nothing about strangers. In leaving his weapon behind he had all but bestowed it on the next basher to chance by and find it. If the woman was kind spirited, she might return it to him graciously. If she was not, well, he would offer what he could for it in remuneration. A spear was not worth a life; neither the stranger’s before him nor his own.
”Hello, cutter. How are you this evening?” his tone was friendly and his face was kind.
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Post by edisoncarter on May 14, 2007 22:20:27 GMT -5
"Right, there, hands off--oh, hey," she says, squinting at the shiningly cut gentleman who'd just addressed her, pulling her lips from a tankard of beer. "That's yours," she adds, switching the tankard from one hand to the other, taking the spear, and very slowly turning it in midair to hand it to him butt-first.
"Fantastic balance, but not for dancing. Shame, 'cause it's nice. How's the one that collapsed on the floor? I assumed that's what you went to take care of."
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Post by exile on May 15, 2007 10:26:19 GMT -5
”Thank-you, friend” the Bleaker responds as he reaches for the haft of the proffered spear. His fingers closed about the familiar grain contentedly.
”Although, I admit I am no dancer.” Hadrian pulled up a vacant chair as he spoke, seating himself across from his benefactor. Although he hoped to return to Wraith promptly, Hadrian could always find a moment or two for the kindhearted across the Cage.
”The poor sod is stable for the moment, and so far as I can tell he is being cared for by the best of hands. We will know more in the morning I suspect.” The Aasimar’s gaze fell upon the game of chance being waged by the other individuals at the table.
“You don’t appear to be nearly as enthralled by the dice as your companions,” Hadrian observed with a gentle smile. ”Can I buy you a drink, or something else perhaps?”
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Post by edisoncarter on May 15, 2007 21:47:42 GMT -5
Nilou's eyebrows rise. "Drink's fine, always is," she smiles, those long, perfect teeth making the grin something...else. "And no, gambling bores the drivel out of me. Do it for real all the time. But my stakes are much higher. And no sodding dice. Silly things, they are. If I were in a troublemaking mood, I'd figure out how to make those things turn any way I wanted. Just to see what they do," she adds, gesturing with the tankard of beer at the gambling troupe.
She regards the splatters on the table, frothing into transparency. "I'm only a little drunk."
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Post by exile on May 16, 2007 15:29:14 GMT -5
”Two of whatever the lady is having tonight, if you please,” Hadrian begged of a passing server in his soft baritone.
”Excuse me,” he said, turning his attention back on Nilou and fixing her with a warm smile. Idly he wondered what manner of risks the sensate was implying; in a blood set on sampling every sensation the multiverse had to offer it could be anything.
”So you’re a planewalker then?” he asked. ”Or have I missed my mark? Oh but forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Hadrian.” The aasimar pealed off his glove as he spoke, revealing the silhouetted raven tattoo, before extending his hand in greeting.
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Post by edisoncarter on May 17, 2007 23:08:26 GMT -5
"Ooh," Nilou says, genuinely impressed by the ink embedded in his hand. "I've always wanted one, but it's a chore finding a color that'll stand out properly on me," she shrugs. "I'm Nilou. I sing, I dance, I play, and I tell a good story or two. And you're right, I am a wanderer, because the only way to get good stories is to experience them yourself. Hearsay can only go so far," she smiles, shaking the proffered hand.
"I'm assuming you are, too, after your own fashion?"
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Post by exile on May 19, 2007 15:21:18 GMT -5
”I suppose I am, in my own fashion as you say,” Hadrian remarked with a grin. ”Although I suspect your stories are more interesting than mine. I have never really enjoyed the luxury of traveling for its own sake. Most of my years have been wiled away in Ysgard, the place of my birth, and more recently here in the Cage.”
A bald-headed server with deep-set eyes approached the table bearing a pair of mugs aloft on a wooden tray. “Arborean bitters,” he announced, setting them down curtly on the table. Hadrian handed the man a palm’s worth of greens with a gracious nod, and returned his attention to Nilou.
“Its funny you know,” he began, indicating the marks on his hands. ”they are relics of another life; Reminders of what once was, and yet I often forget they are there. I suppose I am no longer the man who had them penned.”
Hadrian brought the nearer tankard up to his lips and pulled back a draught of the dark liquid, savoring its taste.
“But enough about me, what brings you back here then? Surely there are more stories to be gleaned across the great ring?”
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Post by edisoncarter on May 22, 2007 20:43:31 GMT -5
"Of course there are. But you can't keep getting into things all the time, with no respite. There's no time to write things down, organize them, clean them up, get rid of the clutter of unnecessary detail. Ever rubbed your finger on velvet so long it went numb? No, I imagine not. But it's true. You go out experiencing things too much all at once, and you lose the ability to discern. No good, that."
She drops a good third of the tankard down her throat, then pauses with a grin to enjoy it. "Right. So, I'm here to give the faculties a break. I'm here to see family, too. Living is like a book, with chapters--chapters have a beginning, middle, and end. I'm at the end of one chapter, and I'm sure in no time I'll start up on another.
"It's like your marks. Ink left over from a long-closed chapter. We all move on. Which says nothing about the circularity of lives, but that's a different matter. --Just a warning, I'll be making less sense as the evening wears on if you keep buying me bitters. But I guarantee I'll be entertaining."
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Post by exile on May 23, 2007 22:22:59 GMT -5
“I wish I could stay long enough to make good on that offer,” Hadrian replied with a regretful smile. ” I imagine the planes look even more incredible when recounted through the ale soaked eyes of a sensate. But I’m afraid this tankard must be my one and only.”
Hadrian took another long draught of the bub as if to accentuate his words.
“I’ve already promised Mistress Blackmantle that I would return with all reasonable haste. Managing the poor sod is a fair chore for one alone. Of course, I could not leave without first extending my thanks to you for minding my belongings. I would be remiss to neglect such kindness. Such acts are all we have in this world.
“But perhaps another time you will indulge me with your stories, Miss Nilou. For the moment however, I am curios, and forgive me if I intrude, but what are your predictions for the next chapter?”
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