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As I said, I have a history with poisons. Not that I am implying I ought to poison you. Mayhap simply create something that would render you incapacitated long enough to emerge from this situation you have managed to get yourself into.
There would be the matter of how it would be ingested. [z e]
Food or drink. The latter is usually more successful. Unless you were planning to eat leafy plants.
[And she doesn't mean the kind one would ordinarily have at a dinner table. This is not a case of 'eat your greens.']
[And she doesn't mean the kind one would ordinarily have at a dinner table. This is not a case of 'eat your greens.']
[ Thankfully, Sarangerel did, in fact, expect him to be fresh from the odd jobs they have the tendency to pick up and so she isn’t all that terribly surprised when he appears on her doorstep looking every bit worse for the wear. She still answers the door with a small smile — albeit a sympathetic one — and only sighs in response to the state of Ze. She opens the door and gestures him inside regardless with no judgement. The cottage has seen her step in before in similar disarray, after all, and she can hardly be so hypocritical. ]
Take your greaves and boots off here though. It will be less to clean up if you do not track everywhere you have been inside the house.
[ She gestures to the mat and armor stand placed beside the doorway. Both are clearly not new, but at least there is no evidence of her own past messes on either still. The house is tidy. While Ze works on his boots, she steps behind him to remove his coat. Dusty as it is from the road, it can use a wash, but they can tend to that later. For now, it’ll go on the coat hanger. ]
You arrived sooner than I had expected. Were you already in the forest?
Take your greaves and boots off here though. It will be less to clean up if you do not track everywhere you have been inside the house.
[ She gestures to the mat and armor stand placed beside the doorway. Both are clearly not new, but at least there is no evidence of her own past messes on either still. The house is tidy. While Ze works on his boots, she steps behind him to remove his coat. Dusty as it is from the road, it can use a wash, but they can tend to that later. For now, it’ll go on the coat hanger. ]
You arrived sooner than I had expected. Were you already in the forest?
[ Considering Ze and their… acquaintanceship thus far, it’s a much more candid and generous reply than she expected from him. She thought he would simply retort that she’s being stupid and be done with it. Perhaps he does truly think so still, but he does also seem to be considering her words. For her, that is enough. ]
I know not if I would go so far as to call it justified either. Loss and hardship and pain never seems right. But I would say that the dichotomy of our lives is explained by this truth. I will not pretend the realization makes it any easier for me to bear the weight, however it does… help me accept at least that suffering exists and we will never be able to avoid it entirely. If I did not realize this, I am certain the tribulations of simply living would have driven me mad by now.
I know not if I would go so far as to call it justified either. Loss and hardship and pain never seems right. But I would say that the dichotomy of our lives is explained by this truth. I will not pretend the realization makes it any easier for me to bear the weight, however it does… help me accept at least that suffering exists and we will never be able to avoid it entirely. If I did not realize this, I am certain the tribulations of simply living would have driven me mad by now.
[Try as he might to keep much of himself an entirely private affair, the simple truth, undeniable in these rare, fleeting moments of vulnerability, is as inescapable as their shared stubbornness: Ze is far greater a mystery than Li'to could ever hope to be. If he cared for such things, he might wonder if that isn't exactly why he can't quite bring himself to feel entirely at ease around the elder Miqo'te: for all that they may share in common, the gulf between them spans a lifetime.
Ze chases after him with an insistent headbutt and Li'to's ears flatten into his mess of hair; Ze tosses an apple his way and he barely finds his hands enough to catch it, surprise etching itself onto his features before he can reel it in. Briefly, he thinks he may never quite understand the man at all.
He feels altogether far, far younger than he is.
With a shake of the head, he shuffles himself back onto the bed as best he can without putting Ze's hard to waste, his back landing against the wall with a thump. Cool, calming aether soothes the burn that follows, and he turns the ripened fruit over in his hands as he exhales through the slowly numbing pain.]
I'll give you the benefit of believing you haven't healed me in the interests of poisoning me immediately after. [There's no bite to the words, the way there might usually be, spoken into the air rather than at their designated target; that's saved for the poor apple. A mouthful of sweet-sour flesh is as good a balm as any paladin's spell.
A swallow, and another turn in his palm. He watches Ze only in his peripheral.]
... I assume you'll be on your way.
Ze chases after him with an insistent headbutt and Li'to's ears flatten into his mess of hair; Ze tosses an apple his way and he barely finds his hands enough to catch it, surprise etching itself onto his features before he can reel it in. Briefly, he thinks he may never quite understand the man at all.
He feels altogether far, far younger than he is.
With a shake of the head, he shuffles himself back onto the bed as best he can without putting Ze's hard to waste, his back landing against the wall with a thump. Cool, calming aether soothes the burn that follows, and he turns the ripened fruit over in his hands as he exhales through the slowly numbing pain.]
I'll give you the benefit of believing you haven't healed me in the interests of poisoning me immediately after. [There's no bite to the words, the way there might usually be, spoken into the air rather than at their designated target; that's saved for the poor apple. A mouthful of sweet-sour flesh is as good a balm as any paladin's spell.
A swallow, and another turn in his palm. He watches Ze only in his peripheral.]
... I assume you'll be on your way.
Such a clever little kitty cat, figuring that all out on your own!
Ah, but what a grand "when" it shall be, that much I can indeed promise. However, I dread spoiling the surprise for you! So I regret there is aught else I can say for fear of doing just that. T'would be crass to reveal the ending of our little tale too soon, don't you think?
Ah, but what a grand "when" it shall be, that much I can indeed promise. However, I dread spoiling the surprise for you! So I regret there is aught else I can say for fear of doing just that. T'would be crass to reveal the ending of our little tale too soon, don't you think?
[odd. from another that word (kitty) grates. from fandaniel, it fails to pierce.]
I am under no delusions as to the part I've played and will inevitably have to play again. [moider] Your mummery is merely another chapter to the tale. The only question still in doubt is whether it will be the finale of your tale, or ours.
I am under no delusions as to the part I've played and will inevitably have to play again. [moider] Your mummery is merely another chapter to the tale. The only question still in doubt is whether it will be the finale of your tale, or ours.
You’d like that, I’ll wager. [The reply is glib.
Ze knows well there is no point in giving voice to the emotions that fuel his actions- and that they come terribly close to pity. It is neither affection nor concern that drives him, merely a sense of obligation and duty. The selfsame desires that would have him stop to help an ailing traveler beset by the dangers of the road… or a produce merchant whose wares ended up halfway across the lane.
It isn’t kindness, it is simply having the ability to help and being unable to deny the need of it. (Or so he tells himself.)
When rooting further in the sack doesn’t yield the items he seeks, Ze settles for upending the whole thing, flicking it aside to join the mess on the floor without remorse once emptied as a half-dozen apples go rolling across the table. Joining them is the source of that earlier, ominous clinking- two poorly wrapped bottles of wine. As if in deliberate taunt, Ze picks one up and pulls away the shoddy scrap of cloth to make sure the bottle isn’t cracked.]
Sadly for you, it hasn’t been a bell yet, much less two. And I’ve yet to hear how you ended up in so piss-poor a state. [Without permission, he goes hunting through Vassa’s shelves for cups- answer enough in itself, surely.]
Ze knows well there is no point in giving voice to the emotions that fuel his actions- and that they come terribly close to pity. It is neither affection nor concern that drives him, merely a sense of obligation and duty. The selfsame desires that would have him stop to help an ailing traveler beset by the dangers of the road… or a produce merchant whose wares ended up halfway across the lane.
It isn’t kindness, it is simply having the ability to help and being unable to deny the need of it. (Or so he tells himself.)
When rooting further in the sack doesn’t yield the items he seeks, Ze settles for upending the whole thing, flicking it aside to join the mess on the floor without remorse once emptied as a half-dozen apples go rolling across the table. Joining them is the source of that earlier, ominous clinking- two poorly wrapped bottles of wine. As if in deliberate taunt, Ze picks one up and pulls away the shoddy scrap of cloth to make sure the bottle isn’t cracked.]
Sadly for you, it hasn’t been a bell yet, much less two. And I’ve yet to hear how you ended up in so piss-poor a state. [Without permission, he goes hunting through Vassa’s shelves for cups- answer enough in itself, surely.]
Don't tempt me, though she'd likely catch wind of my intentions if I suddenly began chewing weeds.
Unimaginably, [he grumbles, like a child, because he's in pain and tired and he can. Naturally, according to the laws of the known universe, that only means that there will be neither poison nor the pleasant company of no company at all anytime soon.
By the time Ze's bell fetish is appropriately catered to, his eyebrows will be due a nice, long vacation; they furrow indiscriminately as the elder Miqo'te rummages through his shelves and he breathes a sigh, shaking his head once again, and with it any passing thoughts of getting any peace.]
On your left. Two over.
[He'll find a half dozen of the things collecting dust, all of varying sizes, all of obvious disuse, sitting behind a stack of equally untouched plates. Believe it or not, Li'to doesn't exactly entertain guests on the regular -- nor has he called this particular space home for very long, in spite of the mess littering the floor. Better to keep moving, after all. Better not to grow attached to pointless sentiments like throwing back glasses of wine with -- acquaintances.
Drawing a leg to his chest with some effort, he continues his hawk-eyed observation, for whatever semblance of control it might offer in his current state.]
Do you always make a habit of snooping through other people's things?
[Ignoring that other part, yeah.]
By the time Ze's bell fetish is appropriately catered to, his eyebrows will be due a nice, long vacation; they furrow indiscriminately as the elder Miqo'te rummages through his shelves and he breathes a sigh, shaking his head once again, and with it any passing thoughts of getting any peace.]
On your left. Two over.
[He'll find a half dozen of the things collecting dust, all of varying sizes, all of obvious disuse, sitting behind a stack of equally untouched plates. Believe it or not, Li'to doesn't exactly entertain guests on the regular -- nor has he called this particular space home for very long, in spite of the mess littering the floor. Better to keep moving, after all. Better not to grow attached to pointless sentiments like throwing back glasses of wine with -- acquaintances.
Drawing a leg to his chest with some effort, he continues his hawk-eyed observation, for whatever semblance of control it might offer in his current state.]
Do you always make a habit of snooping through other people's things?
[Ignoring that other part, yeah.]
Really, you think I would make it so obvious? I am certain I could devise just such a thing for tea. Or wine. Or whatever you may be imbibing.
[He hesitates a breath when she opens the door, warm light flooding out onto her porch and bathing him in a triangle of it- like a barrier to the darkening skies signaling dusk. But it is not that which catches him but for the look of her, softer than he's ever seen- even that night in Ishgard- and welcoming. Unbidden his tail flattens to his side- indecision and uncertainty curling inside of his gut like nausea, bidding him to run. To turn back now whilst he still can, as though he is on the precipice of yet another dangerous cave rather than on the front-step of a comrade's home.
It lasts only a moment, that hesitation, for his stubborn pride has always won the day- even when in doing so it is a detriment. He steps inside and stares straight ahead, fixating on a point on the wall as she speaks. A part of him thinks to mention that removing his footwear will hardly do her impression of his current state any favors... but she would have known- and likely would have been the same at one point- so he does not say anything, making to oblige. And when she moves behind him to take his coat, he cannot help the flicker of tension that slithers down his spine, ears flicking up and backwards before straightening again. That he is ill-at-ease is obvious, that he is fighting to maintain a facade regardless even moreso.]
Escorting a merchant to Gridania. [Is all he grunts as he undoes his gloves so she can take his jacket without issue, wincing at the unexpected soreness that arises from the motion.] Wanted someone to keep the Ixali at bay. [He adds as a gracious point of elaboration, choosing not to add he ended up all but abandoning them as soon as the gate and the Wailers protecting it were within sight, payment be damned.] Not that we saw so much as a scratch mark in the dirt. [He mutters in afterthought as he finally drags his footwear off and sets it aside as bid, leaving his gloves draped in the heap with less care than he ought to have.] Where can I wash up?
It lasts only a moment, that hesitation, for his stubborn pride has always won the day- even when in doing so it is a detriment. He steps inside and stares straight ahead, fixating on a point on the wall as she speaks. A part of him thinks to mention that removing his footwear will hardly do her impression of his current state any favors... but she would have known- and likely would have been the same at one point- so he does not say anything, making to oblige. And when she moves behind him to take his coat, he cannot help the flicker of tension that slithers down his spine, ears flicking up and backwards before straightening again. That he is ill-at-ease is obvious, that he is fighting to maintain a facade regardless even moreso.]
Escorting a merchant to Gridania. [Is all he grunts as he undoes his gloves so she can take his jacket without issue, wincing at the unexpected soreness that arises from the motion.] Wanted someone to keep the Ixali at bay. [He adds as a gracious point of elaboration, choosing not to add he ended up all but abandoning them as soon as the gate and the Wailers protecting it were within sight, payment be damned.] Not that we saw so much as a scratch mark in the dirt. [He mutters in afterthought as he finally drags his footwear off and sets it aside as bid, leaving his gloves draped in the heap with less care than he ought to have.] Where can I wash up?
[Madness... while that strikes a cord, there is a part of him that cannot help but wonder if they are not all of them mad already, to have chosen the paths they did.]
I'll not deny, it seems a pitiful excuse. [That harshness exists still, bitter as acid at all that has been weathered.] But it is not my life to reason.
I'll not deny, it seems a pitiful excuse. [That harshness exists still, bitter as acid at all that has been weathered.] But it is not my life to reason.
[ She doesn’t flinch at the harshness. That’s more like it. She has her own sting to her too, albeit a gentler one. ]
No. ‘Tis surely not.
But you do not seem quite as jaded as you would have others — and mayhap yourself — believe, considering you what you have just agreed to.
No. ‘Tis surely not.
But you do not seem quite as jaded as you would have others — and mayhap yourself — believe, considering you what you have just agreed to.
[Ze snorts, that insult still hanging in the air between them- like a barely weaned brat.
It’s more than obvious Vassa has no inclination of disclosing the events of the last 24 hours, which only makes Ze more curious as to what actually transpired. Obviously the other took the brunt of whatever it was- calling it a duty (though Ze can trust that as much as he can trust anything out of the other’s mouth.) would imply it had something to do with someone in need of his strength. Voidsent? They’ve the claws and blades long enough to do that sort of damage. But for the smaller marks, scratches and bites- a beast?
He shakes his head, knowing the folly of trying to guess when he knows not where the battle even took place. Besides, whatever he thinks of Vassa’s state, it’s clear that he at least won, and that will have to suffice. (For now, in any case.)
Moving as directed, he shifts his attention to the cupboards to the left and comes away with two cups, noting the fine layer of dust that covers everything he touches. Wiping those too on his coat, he inspects them before the light to ensure they’re at least passable before he picks up the bottles and makes his way over back towards the bed, snagging a chair with a finger and dragging it unceremoniously across the floor to take a seat.
With a thunk, one of the bottles ends up on the floor while the other’s cork is dragged from its mouth by a pair of fanged teeth. The cork itself, predictably, joins everything else on the floor.]
Only when I have to care enough to bother. [He replies smoothly, well aware of the implication of those words as he fills both glasses and sets the other bottle down before holding out Vassa’s towards him. It is, perhaps, not the wisest thing to do to someone who very nearly bled out on the floor of their own home, but it will take the edge off and, from his own experience, Ze is sure that’s more than worthwhile right now.] To your health, brat. [The toast is a mocking one before he knocks it back, working the taste of the wine over in his mouth before grimacing. It’s not the worst he’s ever had, but it’s certainly not…
He sighs, refilling his cup regardless and knocking that back like a shot as well. Now he knows why the man was willing to give him so many.] When did you move in?
It’s more than obvious Vassa has no inclination of disclosing the events of the last 24 hours, which only makes Ze more curious as to what actually transpired. Obviously the other took the brunt of whatever it was- calling it a duty (though Ze can trust that as much as he can trust anything out of the other’s mouth.) would imply it had something to do with someone in need of his strength. Voidsent? They’ve the claws and blades long enough to do that sort of damage. But for the smaller marks, scratches and bites- a beast?
He shakes his head, knowing the folly of trying to guess when he knows not where the battle even took place. Besides, whatever he thinks of Vassa’s state, it’s clear that he at least won, and that will have to suffice. (For now, in any case.)
Moving as directed, he shifts his attention to the cupboards to the left and comes away with two cups, noting the fine layer of dust that covers everything he touches. Wiping those too on his coat, he inspects them before the light to ensure they’re at least passable before he picks up the bottles and makes his way over back towards the bed, snagging a chair with a finger and dragging it unceremoniously across the floor to take a seat.
With a thunk, one of the bottles ends up on the floor while the other’s cork is dragged from its mouth by a pair of fanged teeth. The cork itself, predictably, joins everything else on the floor.]
Only when I have to care enough to bother. [He replies smoothly, well aware of the implication of those words as he fills both glasses and sets the other bottle down before holding out Vassa’s towards him. It is, perhaps, not the wisest thing to do to someone who very nearly bled out on the floor of their own home, but it will take the edge off and, from his own experience, Ze is sure that’s more than worthwhile right now.] To your health, brat. [The toast is a mocking one before he knocks it back, working the taste of the wine over in his mouth before grimacing. It’s not the worst he’s ever had, but it’s certainly not…
He sighs, refilling his cup regardless and knocking that back like a shot as well. Now he knows why the man was willing to give him so many.] When did you move in?
[ Sarangerel notices Ze is a little jumpier and terser than usual and she’s not quite certain why. He’s seen her writhe with post-climax euphoria with not a single stitch on her before; surely it can’t be her that’s causing him to be so skittish. She shrugs it off as a result of the stresses of their line of work and hums in acknowledgement to his tale. He was nearby. That explains his quickness then— or at least as far as she knows.
The notion that he might have been so eager to see her as to rush his last contract doesn’t enter her mind.
She allows him to dress down as he wishes to, without judging him or tsk’ing at him. Instead, when she comes back around to stand in front of him and he asks her about washing up, she reaches out to take his hands in hers, coming close enough to smell the dirt and sweat on him easily. ]
Slow down… Come.
[ She gives him a small reassuring smile and turns away then to lead him through the small house by the hand to the bathroom. She saw him wince earlier. Thankfully, in addition to a shower, she has a spacious bath in which he can soak his aching muscles. ]
I can wash your hair for you. If you’d like.
The notion that he might have been so eager to see her as to rush his last contract doesn’t enter her mind.
She allows him to dress down as he wishes to, without judging him or tsk’ing at him. Instead, when she comes back around to stand in front of him and he asks her about washing up, she reaches out to take his hands in hers, coming close enough to smell the dirt and sweat on him easily. ]
Slow down… Come.
[ She gives him a small reassuring smile and turns away then to lead him through the small house by the hand to the bathroom. She saw him wince earlier. Thankfully, in addition to a shower, she has a spacious bath in which he can soak his aching muscles. ]
I can wash your hair for you. If you’d like.
I've not come to where I am by standing alone and ignoring the needs of others- least of all my allies. [a thing of which he is too keenly aware, in an unforgiving way.] 'tis no less than I would offer another companion, having been so sincerely requested. You needn't think deeply upon it.
[He cannot help it- so ill-at-ease and unfamiliar with the emotions he is courting now by being in her home- by coming to her when bid for as small a thing as being missed. In battle or lust he is practiced. In hostility and insult can he find cover. Here, where his efforts are focused upon making peace- on brushing past established boundaries- he is unnerved.
She, unnerves him, in a way both vexing and humbling.]
Terrified I’ll botch the job? [The reply is as light as he can make it, thinking back to their shared night in Ishgard when she took to finger-combing his hair with a tenderness that did not belong in the early stages of this evolution of their relationship. He had pitted it to post-coital euphoria, a love of being close and content and little else. He had only distantly acknowledged the pleasantry of it, afterward, to be stroked so tenderly with calloused fingers so accustomed to violence.
Fingers that have now enclosed about his own and lead him onward- deeper into the house and past the entrance and all its trappings. Unbidden, his gaze wanders- seeking further and more about Sarangerel’s home and thus about her. Looking for trinkets, discarded belongings left to linger in forgotten corners, or if it is as desolate and deserted as his own imagined home to be should he have ever deigned to have one instead of drifting from one temporary place of lodging to the next.]
She, unnerves him, in a way both vexing and humbling.]
Terrified I’ll botch the job? [The reply is as light as he can make it, thinking back to their shared night in Ishgard when she took to finger-combing his hair with a tenderness that did not belong in the early stages of this evolution of their relationship. He had pitted it to post-coital euphoria, a love of being close and content and little else. He had only distantly acknowledged the pleasantry of it, afterward, to be stroked so tenderly with calloused fingers so accustomed to violence.
Fingers that have now enclosed about his own and lead him onward- deeper into the house and past the entrance and all its trappings. Unbidden, his gaze wanders- seeking further and more about Sarangerel’s home and thus about her. Looking for trinkets, discarded belongings left to linger in forgotten corners, or if it is as desolate and deserted as his own imagined home to be should he have ever deigned to have one instead of drifting from one temporary place of lodging to the next.]
I would daresay that most things from me are not. Subdued complexity has its charms, I assure you.
Out of curiosity, what are the consequences of breaking your hand? Better or worse than nursing poisoning?
[he snorts, softly, though she cannot see it.]
I would have refuted you, gently, thinking you had mistook a night of passion for something meaningful.
And braced myself for the pot to be hurled at my head when next we met.
I would have refuted you, gently, thinking you had mistook a night of passion for something meaningful.
And braced myself for the pot to be hurled at my head when next we met.
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