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Post by Charlotte on Jul 7, 2015 19:47:00 GMT -6
Night had fallen over the capital city of the Santaruz territory, but the bustling trading hub never seemed to sleep. Taverns were still full to the brim with patrons, and there were still shops that had customers coming and going with their purchased goods. Even a show was going on in one of the market squares, a troupe of dancers that were passing through to make some coin before moving on to their next destination, wherever that might be.
The busy city was busy enough to shroud Charlotte in anonymity, at least enough that she could sit in one of her less-frequented taverns without a client or colleague coming up to her for a chat. Just three days earlier the blonde had been in the count’s manor on the northeastern border, life in the hands of a silver-haired and tongued assassin as she tried to protect the hard work she’d done slowly convincing the count to change his mind on the embargo. Despite saving him, despite earning twice the gold she would have for saving his life, despite receiving a letter of thanks from Marquess Ashby himself…
Charlotte felt sick. Part of that was from the amount of ale and whiskey she’d imbibed as she’d sat in this small, rundown tavern, having barely moved from the seat she took in the back. It had been her home for the past… five, six hours? She couldn’t even remember what time of day it had been when she’d walked in, and she’d already been buzzed then too. She was so far gone, it wouldn’t have been surprising if she forgot everything about herself.
But the other reason she felt sick, the reason she’d drunk until she was numb… it was the soft whispers of the assassin’s death throes in her mind. The warmth of his breath on her face as he’d urged her to cross a line she’d never crossed… the warmth of his blood on her hands after she’d plunged her blade into his chest. They were thoughts she hadn’t been able to quiet since that night, no matter what she tried to do, no matter which tavern she sat in, not matter how many different ales she gulped down. Her mind was hazy, her eyes bloodshot, her body weak and wobbly, but those memories were crisp in her brain, like a bloodstain on a silk dress.
“Miss, we’re closing up soon… you need someone to take you home?”
It took a long moment for Charlotte to turn her head up, slowing turning it from side to side; she ignored the look of concern on the young barmaid’s face. “No, thanks,” she replied, her words slurred. She looked into the mug in front of her, seeing there was a bit of ale left. Well that just wouldn’t do, she thought, lifting the mug and drinking the last dribble of ale, nearly falling back from her chair. But she righted herself, slamming the mug on the table and startling the bar maiden again.
“Sorry,” Charlotte mumbled, pushing herself up and away from the table, fumbling for enough coins to throw on the table. Once she heard the clatter of metal against the wood table confirmed she’d left at least something to pay for their services, the blonde stumbled towards the door, her vision blurry and warped. Thank goodness the boots she’d worn had a low heel, or she’d be on the floor by now.
The cool night air quickly filled her lungs as she exited, bringing a misty smile to her face. Her steps erratic and imprecise, Charlotte leaned against the front wall of the tavern, guiding herself into the side alley slowly but surely. She just needed to find another tavern that was still open; she was numbed now, but she couldn’t risk the feeling fading. Even if she couldn’t scrub the memory of his honeyed words from her mind, she could keep herself in enough of a stupor to not care for a while.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 7, 2015 20:03:41 GMT -6
His steps were soft and quiet, but not slow, not lacking purpose. He slipped in between walkers and talkers alike as he made his way through the late-night bustling streets of the city that had once banned him.
Actually, Tiz realized, his ban had only been up for about a day. If he had counted right, tonight would be only his second night of freedom in the city, but it didn't stop him from wearing his full body cloak with the hood raised, so only his shins and below could be seen. The hood hid his face well, but not to people shorter than he... Fortunately, those people were few and far between. Tiz managed to avoid bumping shoulders as he walked, down the street and towards the town square. He was looking for someone-- another ex-military contact he could trust, someone who would know the status of the Laus-Santaruz embargo. Not being military personnel anymore meant that he was kept out of touch, intentionally, with the happenings of nobility. Since Lycian nobility told their people very little anyway, that meant even less for Tiz. But this man he was meeting was supposed to know more.
As he walked, he passed a few old posters of his face, crudely drawn with ink upon crumbling, faded parchment. His "jail time" was up, and technically he was free to roam Santaruz, but he remained hidden for the safety of the populace; he had no idea what crazy commoner might be waiting to do him in and collect some sort of reward or bounty. He figured that he wouldn't have a bounty out on him... But always better to be safe than sorry, Tiz guessed.
Once he made his way to town square, he took a seat on a stone bench beside an apothecary, where he had been told to meet... And right at this hour. No one had come. He looked down, concealing his face entirely. He knew he probably looked incredibly suspicious, but it was Santaruz-- it was a large city, and no one would bother him except maybe the town guard, who looked to be relatively disinterested in anything going on around him. Tiz chuckled to himself... Those poor guards. He hated guard duty when he was in the League.
Before the Sacaean knew it, almost an hour had passed, and his contact had still not shown up. Sighing with dissatisfaction, Tiz stood and brushed himself off... The amount of people had dwindled a bit, but not significantly. It was late, but not so late that people couldn't shop. The taverns were filling up, and Tiz decided to have some wine before heading off to bed in his makeshift camp outside the city gates.
As he approached a tavern, though, he saw something magnificent that he would have never expected to see. Was it... Myscha? Tiz raised his head just enough to get a full view of the woman leaning against the tavern wall, struggling to make it anywhere. His eyes followed her, curious above all, and his lips curled into a soft, light smile. She stumbled down an alleyway, and then Tiz picked up his speed expertly, making sure to make no extra noise save for his cloak billowing a bit in the breeze he created.
Once she finally managed to put herself in the alley, Tiz rounded the corner and slowed his gallop to a mere step at a time. It had been almost a month... But he had been right. It really was her. He wouldn't mistake her anywhere, or for anyone else.
His tone was light, playful. He didn't lower his hood, but he spoke loudly enough for her to hear. "Hope you're not trying to walk all the way home like that. I'd be ignoring my duty if I let such a pretty lady walk home unguarded."
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 7, 2015 21:40:54 GMT -6
Right foot... left foot... right foot... left foot... Charlotte focused on staying upright as she moved so slowly through the alley, though with good reason. It seemed so narrow it would crush her, and the last thing the blonde wanted was for the walls to close in on her. In any other state of mind, the thought wouldn’t have made sense, but it was perfectly reasonable right now. She eyed the walls carefully, looking for any signs that they’d move on her, try to take her down.
One particularly lurching step made her pause, though, feeling the liquor stew in her stomach and threaten to come up. Charlotte rested her face against the wall, the cool stone providing relief for the nausea that had suddenly overcome her. Closing her eyes, she thought of her bed back in Laus, how the cool silk pillowcase would provide the same sort of relief, even if only for a moment. Oh, if only she were able to lay down in between the cool, clean sheets, and sleep without dreams, nightmares, any thoughts or cares in the world.
As soon as the stone began to grow warm, Charlotte pushed herself from the wall, only to hear a playful male voice sound from behind her. She knew that voice… didn’t she? Or was she just drunk enough to convince herself someone she knew would just appear to accompany her to the next bar, the next watering hole? This was why she didn't drink this much anymore, wasn't it? Turning slightly and carefully, just enough to look at the man through hazy, unfocused eyes, she shook her head. No, she resolved, she didn’t know the man; he was likely just some passerby looking for some fun with a drunk.
Charlotte waved an arm behind her, beckoning the man to leave. “It’s a good... thing I’m not going home then,” she slurred, a hiccup punctuating her thought. Her tone wasn’t angry or rude, but rather sounded as if she was trying to be playful back, through her drunken stupor. “Save your duty for another poor young woman, love, it’s wasted here tonight.”
Waving behind her, Charlotte tried to stumble forward again, her mind set on a bar she’d just thought of, likely at the end of this street.... or was it the next? No, that bar wasn’t on this street at all...
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Post by Tiz on Jul 7, 2015 22:12:40 GMT -6
Tiz stifled his laugh behind his mouth, letting it wrack his body and stomach instead, hardly able to keep it contained. He was thrilled to even see her... And this quite the show. He hadn't ever known she was such a drinker, and while it wasn't quite his scene anymore, he'd had his nights, too. Though... she seemed pretty heavily out. Maybe something was wrong. Regardless, Tiz's smile broke out into flashing white teeth, and he eventually let his laugh out fully.
The man sighed, walking forward slowly, lowering his hood as he did, his smile still wide across his face. "Wherever you're headed, Myscha, it's not as good as going home. Looks to me like you could use a bed more than more liquor." He kept his green eyes and his smile trained on her as he approached her. It had been far too long for his taste; four weeks or so by his estimate, and he had longed to see her the entire time, regardless of circumstance. Seemed luck was a fickle lady indeed, Tiz thought, his mind focused only on this woman.
He had really missed her.
The brown haired man picked up his step into a light jog, arms still concealed under his cloak, closing the distance between them with ease. He reached out smoothly to cradle her as she struggled to keep herself against a wall, keeping one hand on her upper back and the other around her waist, stabilizing her as he perused her face. He turned his head to face hers, meeting her dilated, glossy blue eyes. Drunken stupor aside, he had forgotten how beautiful they were, and how they clashed vibrantly with his green eyes. He played with her again, his voice still light, smile wide across his face. "You know my duty is only to you."
Sighing again, he looked across her face. She looked weary in addition to her drunkenness. And Santaruz? He knew she lived somewhere in Laus, though he still, after all this, wasn't sure where. Why was she here?
"Myscha, are you all right?"
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 7, 2015 23:20:35 GMT -6
How rude of him! Who laughed at a woman struggling to keep her balance in a dark alley? Stumbling around, barely on her feet… okay, maybe it was a bit amusing. Still, Charlotte didn’t laugh, mostly because she didn’t know if her stomach could take it. She should have eaten some bread or something back in the last tavern… something to soak up some of the alcohol or something. In fact, when was the last time she’d eaten?
Her single-track thoughts nearly causing her to miss what the man said, Charlotte turned as quickly as she could when she heard her name - well, her fake name anyways - and was shocked to see none other than Tiz looking back at her. He looked happier than the last time she’d seen him, which was good. Maybe he’d forgotten about her and moved on… Or maybe he was smiling because he was looking at her.
Whatever the case, Charlotte stumbled back, nearly losing her balance as he jogged over to her, arms reaching out to keep her upright. He’d come too close, too quick, and she was starting to feel the alcohol bubbling up in her stomach again, his quick movement throwing off her stunted equilibrium. His arms around her, Charlotte let her body fall into his, her head lolling against his shoulder with a weak smile. She’d left him with no intention of ever seeing him again back in Laus, but now, she was glad his shoulder was more comfortable than the wall.
What a question he asked, if she was okay. Was there anything about her that was alright right now? Maybe being drunk was the alright part; at least she could get that right without losing her head and killing someone in the process. She sighed, not saying back to the man for a moment as she tried to think of something to say, which was exceptionally hard right now, only made harder by…
Oh no, it was coming.
The sensation had started in the pit of her stomach, but coursed up her torso and into the back of her throat so quickly she barely had time to lift her head from Tiz’s shoulder. She turned to the side, leaning over one of the arms that were holding her up and was sick, the taste of alcohol and stomach acid coating her mouth. She heaved for a few moments, allowing her stomach to void itself until she heaved nothing but air. Coughing to clear her airway, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her blouse, leaning her head on the man’s shoulder, out of breath.
“Sorry,” Charlotte coughed, feeling embarrassed that she was not only drunk but has just gotten sick in front of the man. Just another reason she had stopped drinking. “Better now.”
A quiet moment passed between the two, the only interruption being Charlotte’s labored breaths, but it did not last. “So what, are you following me now? Am I that hard to stay away from?” Charlotte questioned playfully, her tone and demeanor so different from the last time they’d crossed paths. She was clearly in a different state of mind; her voice was almost sing-song, but her eyes looked pained.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 7, 2015 23:36:46 GMT -6
Tiz tried his hardest not to laugh-- truly, he did-- and yet, all of his efforts were in vain as Myscha, still leaning against him, turned over his side to hurl out what she had been drinking, clearly having had too much. Tiz was unaffected; he had dealt with these sorts of things before, and his being unfazed was lucky... Anyone else might've not taken it so well. It could've been, too, that he desperately wanted to talk to her, sober or otherwise. Of all the possible times that he could've spoken to her, though, this seemed the most odd.
He held onto her, rubbing her back as she collected herself, looking at the back of her head affectionately despite the disgusting situation. The first time they'd met, he'd been playing alone in a fountain like a child... The second, they'd successfully secured the passage of a smuggling caravan, and Tiz had killed a guard... The third, they'd had a difficult heart to heart in the following days. And now, here he was. He smiled at her, though she wouldn't have seen it. Here he was, helping her stay contained in the middle of an alley in the very city that had declared his presence illegal thirty-two days prior. Fate was a funny force, Tiz guessed.
Once the woman collected herself, Tiz wiped some of the residue from her cheek in the same way he might've wiped a tear, then wiped his finger off on his belt, the least likely of his garments to stain.
He chuckled as he perused her face again, able to focus only on her broken eyes. "Better isn't the word I'd pick, you know." He laughed again, his smile breaking out from ear to ear. It was funny... He wasn't trying to tease her, but it was so hard for him to stay serious.
"Am I following you..." He asked the question aloud, helping the woman stand upright, balancing her shoulders out. He then wrapped his arm around her waist, stood beside her, pulled her arm around his neck, and began to walk her forward, towards the end of the alley. His voice was as playful as hers, but with a touch more seriousness that her drunken stupor may or may not have been able to catch-- he didn't know. "You'd be surprised how hard you are to stay away from."
It was true, though he left it at that. While he definitely hadn't been following her, he would now. First, she needed to be okay, and second, he... needed to be with her. That's what he told himself, anyway. Tiz was far too guided by his heart to let her go now.
As they walked, he turned his head to her, looking at her detached expression again. "Which way are we going? Sorry, which way am I dragging you?" His smile was still wide across his face.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 8, 2015 7:16:16 GMT -6
Even if he didn’t mean to, Charlotte appreciated the teasing, especially when she’d essentially vomited on Tiz only a minute ago. At least he was being gracious about it, though; any other man would have likely left her in the alley the minute she got sick. The blonde couldn’t blame them, since it was pretty disgusting, watching someone else void their stomach, but somewhere in her drunken mind, Charlotte appreciated Tiz not going, instead rubbing a gentle hand on her back and bringing a smile to her face.
The blonde shifted her position best she could as Tiz moved to help her balance and walk, but her legs were essentially useless stumps now. Even with her feet on the ground, her head was still spinning, forcing her to lay it again on Tiz’s shoulder, eyes open as wide as she could as the spins slowly receded. She nuzzled her head against the man’s cloaked shoulder, which was cool like the wall had been.
“Anywhere, doesn’t matter,” Charlotte mumbled with a small hiccup and chuckle. “Just as long as they have something hard and strong to drink.” The young woman made a motion with her hand, as if she needed to beckon him to keep moving them forward. The fact that she could even think about drinking more after leaving the contents of her stomach in the alley behind them was almost unfathomable, but Charlotte didn’t care. Staying drunk would be better than suffering the aftermath of the constant drunkenness she’d adopted for the past few days. Besides, she had no inn room rented anywhere, so there wasn’t anywhere else for the man to drop her off at.
Before the man could do much in the way of replying to the drunken woman, Charlotte again nuzzled her head against his shoulder, a great sigh of relief coming from her as she did. “Have I ever told you how damn comfortable your shoulder is, Tiz?” An involuntary giggle burst from her, laughing at the little rhyme she’d made thanks to the alcohol on her brain. “Of all the men I’ve been with… it’s like, I could use it as a pillow and not even notice the difference. It’s wonderful!”
Charlotte still felt extremely foggy, her head lolling as they walked, but she didn’t mind, preferring this over actually dealing with what had happened. It was in her nature, anyways, avoiding her personal problems, neatly hiding them away instead of addressing them. She did it with Simon, with Rogus, and she was doing it with Tiz too. Huh… most of her problems came from men. Maybe she should see women for a while?
As they kept walking, the drunken blonde could barely tell where they were going, her vision still warped and blurred. Not to mention, her very well-maintained verbal filter was gone, and she seemed to simply say whatever came to mind. It was entirely unlike her, but then again, it was also the reason she didn’t drink… well, drink this much anyways. “I wish I didn’t have to leave Laus,” Charlotte sighed with what would seem like an out of place smile, ignorant of anything the man might have said to her. She wasn’t the best conversationalist while under the influence.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 8, 2015 9:19:44 GMT -6
The young man sighed, a smile still on his face. He was always smiling, especially in her company, save for the time she'd told him she was leaving and wouldn't see him again. Even then, he'd been able to smile authentically later that night when he realized how foolish it was to consider that he wouldn't ever see her again. And his instincts, as usual, were right-- here they both were, albeit under some strange circumstances.
As Myscha struggled to stand, Tiz decided he had a better plan. He curved his path, standing in front of her, and without asking, he picked her up by her legs, slumping her across his back, her arms around his neck, her head hanging over his shoulder. He eased his arms under her thighs to carry her piggy-back, and kept moving without losing step. He hoisted her up gently so she could see where they were going, and kept his arms safely beneath her so she wouldn't fall. If she vomited again, it might land on him this time, but... Tiz laughed. It didn't matter. It took a lot to gross him out, and he wasn't sure Myscha was even capable of doing so.
Now, where to go... Tiz simply laughed at her as she asked him to find somewhere with something strong and heavy to drink. He knew better than that; he wasn't the type to take advantage of her drunkenness for information, and he knew that any more might make her legitimately sick. Another bar was not an option. He wouldn't, and couldn't, do that to her. But where did that leave, where they could at least be alone so he could help her regain herself...
Ah, Tiz thought, that's as good a place as any.
Continuing to walk, Tiz turned the corner at the end of the alley, going in what would be the opposite direction of the nearest bar. His small softened enough that he could speak to her as she lie across his back. "You haven't," he said playfully, looking over and up at her as she spoke to him. "Glad my shoulder's comfortable. Other one probably wouldn't be, you know, the pauldron and all. But I'm glad my shoulders are soft. That's what they're meant for, ya know, resting heads and such? It would be a shame if they were muscular and hard, fit for battle. Then I don't know what I would do." He offered another soft laugh. In truth, if his shoulders were soft, he didn't know why. He guessed it was her drunken stupor; when he thought back to his drinking days, he remembered being able to find comfort in just about anything. He couldn't help but laugh again, having fun with Myscha's present intoxication.
He stopped his pace as he heard the words leave her lips, but only for a moment. His eyes widened, shocked, but then Tiz immediately kept walking, trying not to break step. She didn't want to leave Laus? There were a million reasons for that, and only one that he hoped for.
"You know," Tiz cooed, as if beginning a joke or a funny story, "with some things, I've heard that if you want them bad enough, they'll come true."
He gave a brief moment of pause, sighed slowly, then asked his question. "What's in Laus that's keeping you tied there?"
Is it foolish to hope that it's me?
As they walked, Tiz finally reached their destination. He pushed open the broad, wide wooden doors and stepped inside a dark yet extensively lit cathedral, whose light came from a massive stained glass design on the far wall. It was huge-- large enough to cover the entire back wall of the church, letting moonlight in, casting the room in red and blue and yellow hues. He walked forward, looking for a pew to sit themselves down in.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 8, 2015 11:07:01 GMT -6
Charlotte’s stomach lurched again as the man lifted her from her feet, tbut the queasy blonde was able to keep herself from emptying any more of the contents of her stomach into the alleys of Santaruz. Thankfully for Tiz, at least for now Charlotte hadn’t noticed they weren’t headed to another tavern; instead she was content to continue her drunken revelations, even if they weren’t so...revelation worthy.
Instead, she found herself laughing as he rambled back, as if someone had just told her to most hilarious joke she’d ever heard. What possibly more could she ask for at a time like this? She didn’t have to walk, Tiz wouldn’t quiet her musings, and, even if it was only momentary, as her laughing shook her she could not think of a recent time where she’d felt this happy. She almost wished she hadn’t drunk so much, so she could enjoy this feeling more; but if she had been any more sober, Charlotte was sure her thoughts would stray to less wonderful things.
“Please, if that were true,” Charlotte giggled in response to his cooing, “then I’d already be back, just - poof!”
His question was a strange one, and something that would have been hard for a sober Charlotte to answer, hell, even entertain. Luckily for Tiz, though, the less inhibited, less controlled woman he held in his arms was not that way. “Oh, I don’t know… I’m not even Lycian, but something about Laus… feels more like home than any other place I’ve been, now more than ever. Most of the people I’ve met there don’t judge you for who you were, simply who you are now and what you can do. I guess I'll just miss it, is all.”
Charlotte paused as they entered the cathedral, a grandiose one undoubtedly erected in the name of St. Elimine. Her attention shifted, she quickly forgot she had been answering the man’s question as she looked up at the vaulted ceilings. There was another thing she couldn’t remember: the last time she’d set foot in a church. Well, she supposed she still wasn’t now, seeing as Tiz was still carrying her, but the sentiment was all the same. Regardless, a playful frown spread across her lips; if she’d been any less inebriated, she might have actually been mad with the man for taking her somewhere she hadn’t asked.
“This doesn’t look like any tavern I’ve been to,” her tone mockingly dour, but she could not keep her twisted face for long, devolving into a fit of giggles against the man’s shoulder. Oh, she was beside herself right now, so out of the ’Myscha’ character he kept reminding her she was supposed to be, every time he said the name. Myscha would never have drunk as much as Charlotte did; she’d have never let a man take her somewhere she didn’t want to go.
“What are you even doing here, anyway? Aren’t you still banned?” Charlotte asked, still giggling a bit as he walked them up the middle aisle. “Is that what your whole get-up is for?”
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Post by Tiz on Jul 8, 2015 11:21:02 GMT -6
Tiz laughed, passing through an archway before getting to the rows of pews. He stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply and taking in the scene. She was such a joy to be around this way, through it seemed fraudulent; she hadn't been so giddy when she was sober. He cursed himself for having found her in this state as opposed to another, but then found himself happy with getting to be with her at all-- and what a strange night this was turning out to be, much like their first one... Though, he still found himself wandering back to his initial questions. Why had she drunk so much? What was bothering her so?
He pushed them out of his mind, ignoring her first comment and replacing words with a laugh as he hoisted her up a little so that her head was more level with his. "Not from Lycia, huh? I've known you for a little while now and just expected you were from Laus. I'm not from there either..." His voice trailed off as she explained her reasoning for being there. Truly, she wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain it. Being Sacaean, he was at the the top of Lycia's "please discriminate against" list. He hadn't known people to not judge him; in fact, he had known people to judge him, including, at least at first, his superior officers. After a while it had died down, but everyone in Lycia seemed to think less of him until he had proven his defined worth in the military, as if now that he'd given to the country, it was okay to not call him names or discriminate against him.
Alas, he hadn't judged them in return. He had taken it quietly, accepting his fate when his parents had chosen to pull out of Sacae. He had taken the brutish blows from people in Caelin as a younger man, and in Laus as an older man. But it wasn't worth deliberating on now; it was water under the bridge, and at present, he really was treated pretty well, despite his thirty-two day old ban. Though, in truth, it was unlikely that anyone had noticed it was him, even as he had traveled the streets with his hood lowered once he found Myscha.
Tiz found himself a little sad, though curious, about what types of people to which she was referring. He wouldn't ask, but he wanted desperately to be some of the reason she had for feeling tied to Laus; he tried to deny it, but he was beginning to feel something strong for her, something beyond electricity that constantly pulled him back to her, that fate allowed to play out, as if the two were actors on a stage, falling for each other, trying to resist it. Was it some game?
But he didn't have time for philosophy. She was right to ask; why had they come to this grand church of St. Elimine?
"It's a different kind of tavern," Tiz joked, flashing a smile and some bright green eyes her way as she was on his back. "A special kind." He loved playing with her drunken state. "I am still banned," he continued, playfully lying. "That's why I'm covered. Shh, don't tell anybody. It's our secret."
He hadn't moved through the archway, but instead turned to a plaque that hung on the right side for people to read as they took their seats. Tiz turned his head to it, reading the stone-etched words aloud...
"May Light always surround you; Hope kindle and rebound you. May your Hurts turn to Healing; Your Heart embrace Feeling. May Wounds become Wisdom; Every Kindness a Prism. May Laughter infect you; Your Passion resurrect you. May Goodness inspire your Deepest Desires. Through all that you Reach For, May your arms Never Tire."
St. Elimine"
Tiz chuckled after reciting the words slowly, with passion, with a clear fondness for their meaning, though he recognized it might've been lost on the drunken Myscha.
He moved forward finally, picking a pew near the back where they had full view of the grand stained glass picture that essentially was the back wall of the cathedral. He gently took her in his arms and set her down, taking a seat next to her as she did so, wrapping an arm around her back, resting his hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.
"That's why we're here."
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 8, 2015 19:36:22 GMT -6
Charlotte listened silently as Tiz recited the words on the plaque; an old prayer, as far as she could remember. While she tried to listen to the words, she found herself listening more to the hum in the man's chest as he spoke the holy words. She could have been lulled to sleep by his recitation, not because it was boring, but rather how soothing his voice was, even with as much passion as he put behind the words. It seemed he really took the words to heart, and he'd referred to the "gods" at a few different points. She wondered if he was a holy man; it wasn't something she'd have expected, but she supposed it made sense in hindsight, considering how idealistic he was.
As soon as he finished saying the prayer, Charlotte wished he would have kept going, quickly missing the hum of his chest against her ear. Yet she stayed quiet, cooperating as the man moved her and set her down in one of the pews. He head quickly rested back on his shoulder as soon as they were settled; somehow resting against him was keeping her head from spinning, but she wouldn’t question it. It was easier to give in.
Giggling as his arm went around her, Charlotte glanced up at him with a tch of her tongue. “I was asking why you’re in Santaruz, dummy!” Shaking her head against his shoulder, she kept going before the man could response. “But that’s okay, I don’t need to know. I’m just glad you’re here now.”
The drunken woman fell silent for some time, quietly looking over the stained glass that decorated almost the entirety of the back wall of the church. Charlotte knew there were a lot of followers of the Church of St. Elimine throughout Elibe, but the blonde wouldn’t have expected to find this kind of grandiose architecture outside of Etruria. Granted, she wasn’t a frequenter of cathedrals and churches, but it was so beautiful, it seemed out of place in such a broken country, a jaded territory. She wanted to see the glass up close, but there was no way she was walking up there right now. Maybe she’d have to come back.
As she gazed around the room, Charlotte began to talk again, having remembered something the drunken her decided to share. “You know, where I’m from, there aren’t any churches like this. Not enough coin to do it.” She paused, humming before she continued. “There was a tiny little church that some of the kids and I in the city went to all the time. Not for service, mind you,” the woman chuckled, rubbing her face with one of her hands before lowering it back to her lap.
“One of the priests, Father Anthony, would always give us fresh bread in the early morning, before the pastor came down for breakfast,” she recalled. “The pastor hated us, always said how the urchins would scare away donors. He told all the priests to report us to the town guard if they saw us anywhere near the place… but not Father Anthony. Always said he did it so we wouldn’t have to steal. He fed us and talked to us until the day they sent him to another church. ” Charlotte suddenly quieted, pushing some hair from her face. “Didn’t have fresh bread for a long time after he left.”
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Post by Tiz on Jul 8, 2015 19:49:53 GMT -6
Tiz smiled, trying to curl his lips together to contain a laugh, but couldn't. Of course she wanted to know why he was in Santaruz. He wasn't one to hide his intentions, and he trusted this woman, despite her reluctance to trust him. "Actually," he said matter-of-factly, "I was here to meet with a contact, one of my old war buddies, if you want to call him that, to get an update on these Laus-Santaruz trade tensions. I've, uh, sort of been hard at work trying to get something resolved... I have a meeting with the Marquess himself in a few days. They think that as long as the developments don't become brutal, they might work something out."
He paused for a moment. He had heard of the couple-day old attempt on the Count's life, right here in this city where they stood... News like that couldn't be kept quiet, especially not a few days after even one person heard it. Rumors spread like wildfire, and in no time, official announcements had been made; heralds had talked on street corners about it to warn people of would-be assassins. It did worry him, honestly, that someone had gone to such extreme measures, but thankfully, Tiz thought, the man had failed.
"In any case, I'm getting really worried about all the news of the assassin that made the attempt on that Count's life a couple days ago... If there are more out there, it spells bad news for all of Lycia."
Finally done explaining himself, Tiz was worried he had bored the woman. He looked down at her as she looked about the room, no doubt fascinated by everything she saw around her. It was beautiful indeed, and while Tiz wasn't quite a man of the church, he had no opposition to the religion; he simply hadn't been exposed to it. What he had been exposed to, though, were the churches, beautiful and grand in style, shape, and finance. These were likely the most expensive buildings in the world to construct, or at least the ones in Etruria likely were. He hadn't ever been to Etruria, but he'd seen paintings and other renditions of churches there.
Tiz closed his eyes, leaned in, and let a kiss linger on the top of Myscha's head as she spoke of home. His heart broke at her final words, wondering what kind of hellish place she might've come from to live the life she did now. If she wasn't from Lycia, where was she from? Should he ask? Could he ask?
"You?" He asked, his tone still playful. "An urchin? I don't know about that... Not the word I would pick out for you, Myscha," Tiz laughed, smiling at her as he leaned back to his upright position.
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 8, 2015 21:58:37 GMT -6
An audience with a Marquess? Well those were hard to come by to be sure, but Charlotte didn’t question why or how, more interested in forgetting what he mentioned next. As hard as she’d tried to ignore the rising worry in her chest when the man brought up the Count, telling her story in its place did nothing to quell the rising memory that she’d been trying so hard to block out.
And like that, the whispers filled her hazy mind, the hot breath was on her cheek; she barely realized Tiz had kissed her head. As soon as she finished, a quiet unlike the others blanketed the two, seeming to last even as Tiz commented on her recollection of days past. Charlotte’s eyes were far-off, unfocused and sad as she remembered the metallic smell of the assassin’s blood, how warm it had been on her hands. Closing her eyes did her no favors, simply allowing her mind to more clearly recreate the vision of the dying man on the floor, her dagger in his chest.
In that moment of recollection, the light that had filled the woman’s eyes faded away, leaving nothing but unhappiness and uncertainty behind still-dilated pupils. Her gaze refocused from all of the beautiful architecture in front of them to the floor below them, wishing she had more to drink, to numb the thoughts invading her formerly untroubled mind.
Oh, he’d said something to her, hadn’t he? Charlotte wasn’t sure what it was; instead of trying to reply, she simply hummed into his chest, eyes still focused on the floor. “Tiz,” she started, her voice noticeably mellowed from her previously joyful tone. “Tiz, have you ever done something so terrible… that you can’t eat... can’t sleep….?” Her words drifted off, trying to find a way to vocalize what she’d been feeling, but the spins were starting to come back, despite her head being firmly planted on Tiz’s shoulder.
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Post by Tiz on Jul 8, 2015 22:11:02 GMT -6
In a moment that seemed so daunting that it shook Tiz to his core, he realized that the atmosphere of their encounter had completely changed-- in only an instant. As if one word had broken the strange joy and mercy of a happy meeting, as if his words had wrecked the drunken, happy stupor that held Myscha's smile and playful tone in her voice. It all fell apart, crumbling beneath him, and Tiz felt himself become terribly useless to do anything but watch her eyes sink down to the floor, losing all life. He brought to mind the words of the prayer, wishing he could instill them into her heart in moments like these.
Whatever was plaguing her, Tiz knew it was serious. Could he even ask, though? Did he have the right?
With gentle grace, Tiz brought his right hand around to her cheek, lifting her head from his shoulder so that he might look her in the eyes at so close a distance that she couldn't look away, like she had the last time they'd met. He studied her lifeless blue orbs through his dangerously curious green ones, wondering what had happened. Her face, once so full of life and beauty, was sad, weighed down by the force of some evil she claimed to have done in her time. She couldn't eat? She couldn't sleep? Maybe this was where her drinking binge had come from...
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and before he knew it, without so much as a warning, Tizato Ciel began to cry. His body didn't wrack with sobs, and his frame remained unshaken, but tears poured out of his eyes.
She was broken. Broken by something intense, something severe.
Slowly, he nodded, his eyes becoming swollen with the tears that now flowed freely. "Yes. Yes, I sure have. I've done lots of things like that... And sometimes, if I think about it too much, I... I do lose sleep." His voice was solemn and collected, not reflecting the fact that he was crying. He spoke with solemn earnest, in a way that a man with many burdens might've spoken, recollecting on the past with grave sentiments. "But this isn't what I want for you."
"Myscha... Myscha, what happened?"
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Post by Charlotte on Jul 9, 2015 18:43:19 GMT -6
If she’d been any degree of sober, Charlotte wouldn’t have said another word. It was no fault of the man sitting next to her, but rather, because of her intensely private nature. Charlotte just didn’t share her personal thoughts, musings, questions unless she had reason to - generally to gain leverage in one way or another over someone. It had been out of necessity that she became this way - it was the only way to keep her and the people she might care about safe. In fact, it was better not to care at all, to simply convince herself that she didn’t.
But as the impaired Charlotte watched the man’s face become wet with tears, admitting he too had faults like hers, whatever they were, she felt herself pulled to be honest, open, for once. Even if it was only once, because even though she didn’t want to admit it, she did care. She was upset that she’d made Tiz upset, she worried for the well-being of Rogus and Saturos, even though they were so capable on their own. Not even drunk would she admit she preoccupied herself with certain others that she worked with, crossed paths with, not because she had to, but because she was vested in them. They knew her, even if it was little, just a speck of her, but it was enough.
As he gently shifted her gaze back to meet his, she found a tear coursing down her own cheek, but no more would come, no sobs would shake her body as they had the night after she’d killed him. She was too numb to devolve to that again; it was as if she didn’t have anymore tears to shed, the anguish that had consumed her too great to even produce such a response. Drunkenness and Tiz’s appearance provided temporary relief, but the overwhelming feeling kept resurfacing, as if it would never go away.
Pushing her face into Tiz’s hand, averting her unfocused, melancholy gaze, she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “I’ve done a lot of horrible things that I can live with, have lived with for a while now. But when I left where I’m from... I told myself unless I didn’t have a choice, unless there was no other way..." Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud. But she knew she couldn’t stop, so she tried to find a way to admit her distress.
“I don’t waste people, Tiz. Everyone has a purpose, even the most wretched of souls. The purpose might be small, nearly insignificant, but it’s there and it begs to be used, utilized. But I... three days ago I...” Suddenly she bent forward, cradling her head in her hands as she felt as if she would collapse in on herself.
“I stopped the count’s assassination, Tiz. I… killed the man who’d been sent to do it... and I don’t know if I had to.” Charlotte rubbed her face, the sickness from earlier coming back, though not from alcohol this time. This time, she felt sick just thinking about what she’d done, thinking about herself.
“No matter what I do, how much I drink to drown it out... I can still hear his voice... his warm breath on my cheek... his hand around my wrist… the thought of him won’t leave me be.” Her tone was rife with exasperation, despondency, as if she were forever doomed to this fate. Charlotte was almost certain she might be.
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