child_of_bhaal (
child_of_bhaal) wrote in
driftfleet2016-05-17 01:22 am
Entry tags:
Mirtul 18 1370 dr
Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit mostly
When: Directly after the shuffle.
She has been checking on the roster listing nearly compulsively lately. Things have just been rough for her. Losses upon losses. Regaining Anders, only for her friend to not know her. It piles up on top of everything else.
Everything else being Sam falling into a sleep only to wake and nearly do something horrible to Cas. And she got to take a lovely swim in Sam's blood for that, a delightful bonus to her kill deprived self. And then Sam is hurt, again, on her watch. Cas fell into a sleep immediately after. She's been ill from the planet nearly all the time. Coil had a melt down. Arthur turned into a tiny teenager. And of course, Robin revealed to her she not only had a Calibration, but when he was in it, he saw her murder her own mother.
She had asked Robin not to shut her out again. That was the mistake. She'd admitted her fragility out loud where Atroma could over hear it. She'd told him she couldn't stand to lose any more friends. And now he's just gone. Removed, like so many others. And she quite simply cannot take one more bit of horrible without doing something about it. But there's nothing to fight. She's not going to trash her room. The thing that's left is rather obvious.
She goes to the Iskaulit, to the tavern that feels like one from home. She has a small pouch full of credits. She managed to pull out enough that the pouch weighs at least five pound. There's a hefty amount of money in it. This she takes directly to whoever is tending the bar, places it purposefully down on the counter, and gives them a dead serious, almost empty look.
"I would like to drink, until I physically cannot anymore, or the money runs out. Whichever comes first." And by the look of things, the money won't be what runs out first. "If it's the former, please feel free to keep whatever is left over for your troubles." Because she imagines it will be annoying to shove her out into the hall when she's fall down drunk.
And with that, she will start drinking. There's dedication in it, because she wants to obliterate everything in her head. Blot it all out until all that's left is alcohol poisoning.
[ooc: Feel free to tag her at any time during this. And please note, she did not notice Zhas has returned to the fleet, and I request that no one tells her. Thank you!]
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit mostly
When: Directly after the shuffle.
She has been checking on the roster listing nearly compulsively lately. Things have just been rough for her. Losses upon losses. Regaining Anders, only for her friend to not know her. It piles up on top of everything else.
Everything else being Sam falling into a sleep only to wake and nearly do something horrible to Cas. And she got to take a lovely swim in Sam's blood for that, a delightful bonus to her kill deprived self. And then Sam is hurt, again, on her watch. Cas fell into a sleep immediately after. She's been ill from the planet nearly all the time. Coil had a melt down. Arthur turned into a tiny teenager. And of course, Robin revealed to her she not only had a Calibration, but when he was in it, he saw her murder her own mother.
She had asked Robin not to shut her out again. That was the mistake. She'd admitted her fragility out loud where Atroma could over hear it. She'd told him she couldn't stand to lose any more friends. And now he's just gone. Removed, like so many others. And she quite simply cannot take one more bit of horrible without doing something about it. But there's nothing to fight. She's not going to trash her room. The thing that's left is rather obvious.
She goes to the Iskaulit, to the tavern that feels like one from home. She has a small pouch full of credits. She managed to pull out enough that the pouch weighs at least five pound. There's a hefty amount of money in it. This she takes directly to whoever is tending the bar, places it purposefully down on the counter, and gives them a dead serious, almost empty look.
"I would like to drink, until I physically cannot anymore, or the money runs out. Whichever comes first." And by the look of things, the money won't be what runs out first. "If it's the former, please feel free to keep whatever is left over for your troubles." Because she imagines it will be annoying to shove her out into the hall when she's fall down drunk.
And with that, she will start drinking. There's dedication in it, because she wants to obliterate everything in her head. Blot it all out until all that's left is alcohol poisoning.
[ooc: Feel free to tag her at any time during this. And please note, she did not notice Zhas has returned to the fleet, and I request that no one tells her. Thank you!]

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"Perhaps. But it does not change the fact that I did them, and those deeds were evil indeed."
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"It's so much easier to get lost in our darkness than to believe we still have light. 'No redemptions. No second chances.'" She's quoting someone, and it sounds like it. She rolls the cup back and forth between her palms.
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He smiles sadly. "I wish I could believe that, little fire-hair. But the dead are still dead, and I cannot bring them back. And does it not make it worse, that I knew that what I did was wrong, and I still kept doing it?"
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I was with this man for a year. And for that year, he lied. And I knew he lied. But he had no love of what he was doing. I knew that too. He betrayed me, and ended up dying upon my sword. He was sworn to my enemy, long before he knew the evils he would be tasked with. That didn't make him any less my friend, or any less a good person. He just made a mistake. One he had no freedom to abandon."
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"I am glad he failed." He says first - a soul is a precious thing, and he is glad she was spared that.
"He and I, I suppose we could exchange many a tale. But I do not know if I can ever forgive myself, little fire-hair. It feels as if it would be unfair to my victims - and I have so very many. I might yet have more, although I pray not."
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She stands then, steadily enough to say she's not fall down drunk yet.
"He didn't fail, you knows. The mage. He got what he was after. He just didn't get to keep it." She goes then to get herself her paid in advance refill, and he can process that but if information in the minute and a half she's gone.
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(He is many things, is Maglor - but he is still his father's son, and the fire in him is banked, but not yet out.)
Even so, his voice stays level.
"He had no right to such a precious jewel. And I would consider that a failure, for you are now free."
He hopes Syeira didn't kill him, so he can have the pleasure.
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"Regardless of right, he could, so he did. Doing it to Imoen was by far the worse offense. Im was a true innocent, before Irenicus took us." Ah, there's her feelings again. Worry this time, raw and open.
"If any one of us is precious, it's Imoen. I miss her."
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"Just because another is precious makes you no less a jewel. Moreso to me, for I only know you."
His eyes are gentle again, but the fury is only tucked away where he can nurse it, not put out, still glinting.
"I hope you dealt with him - that sort of sorcery is the very worst kind, that seeks to meddle in the very part of a self that makes them who they are."
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"He's being punished, in such a fashion that I ought to feel guilty. But I can't bring myself to feel bad for him. I have to live with the repercussions of what he did to me. And so should he."
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Amil always told us not to play with our food Celegorm's memory drawls in his ear, but even the memory's eyes are sharp and hungry.
He smiles a little to see her little blush, and tucks that away for later.
"I am glad he cannot hurt anyone any longer."
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"No one new anyway." More drink is required after this conversation, yes. "I seem to have lost track of why I told you this. I'm sorry." There must have been a point she was trying to make, but she's been side tracked by the retelling of her second worst enemy.
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"Never apologise for trusting me enough to share." He reminds her gently. "I am honored that you would reveal such things to me. And now I think you had best have some water, or you will have a terrible headache tomorrow."
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"Sit, and I will fetch you something." He scolds gently, before getting up to do just that. He wishes now for proper facilities - soup would be best - but he can get her something bland that will not sit heavy, and water, at the least.
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Too late. So she slumps down in her seat, very low, and drinks moodily, not sure if she should be annoyed or feel cared for. Maybe both. Could she do both?
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Maglor smiles at her sulk when he returns and puts both meal and drink down in front of her firmly.
"Go on - you know full well it will help you come the morning.
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She huffs a sigh, leans forward and starts to eat sullenly. Mostly she picks at it, nibbles small amounts. After swallowing a bite, she prods at her food a moment. "Maybe I just want to let myself feel it, the upset and hurt and anger. I ignore it all the time, find reasons to smile. My face gets tired."
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"You think you're so far gone, but we barely know each other and here you are, taking care of me. You don't know anything I've done in my past, but you think I'm worth your kindness. You underestimate yourself, Maglor."
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"You don't owe me a debt. Friendship isn't commerce. It's not something that needs repaying, or purchasing. It's just given. I give it to whoever I see fit. You don't owe me anything."
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"I did not mean it that way, and were you not drunk, little fire-hair, you would know that. But you are wrong about owing - any who my cousin takes into his heart must needs be guarded also by me."
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