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[P]  Blue Hour

Offline Salamander Jul 24 2020, 3:50 PM
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 49
  • Played by: Sbicy
120 Mana · View All Items?
A storm brings about an early evening darkness, pulling shadows from the corners to stretch across the cobblestone street. In some less well-treated areas in Porthcrawl, plant life has cracked the carefully constructed roads. Succulents grow in clumps near the edges, shying from too much sun in the alleys between businesses and homes. Greedy weeds reach brazenly for the light, leaving a smear of yellow pollen on Salamander’s pantleg as they pass. Lightning flashes over the churning sea, greying clouds eclipsing the setting sun. For now, the storm is dry, charged, and pulsing. Rain has yet to return to the salty waves that lap hungrily at the docks and send the ships swaying with the wind. Weather like this always leaves the eximius alert and prickling with energy, perhaps due to the mutation within reacting to the static in the air. A buzz hushes their thoughts, filling their senses.

Instead of lingering outside to the whim of the storm, they choose instead to walk further from the docks and find a seat inside one of the less-populated pubs. It’s not too crowded, yet not entirely empty. There are a few of their own kind floating about, mingling with humans if their appearance better allows for amicable interaction. Salamander is not so lucky, but they are hardly bothered by it at the moment.

Leaning on the counter as they await their order, the eerie, molten glow of their eyes catching the flickering candlelight. The tip of their tail flicks back and forth, occasionally catching against the wooden floor and cutting a small chip in its wake. High contents of bronze give the ends a solid edge, unbreakable and conductive to the sparks that course through their veins.

Another woodchip goes flying when their nose twitches, a provocative, familiar scent bringing a greedy gulp of air into their lungs. It’s earthy and sweet, musky and sharp like the way the wild clings to the fur of a wolf. Without making a big deal of it, they casually turn their head from side to side, raising their cup to their lips as they spot with ease the dire that hides in the trappings of a human form. A shorter man with dark hair and gold eyes, scarred and sitting alone.

Salamander was never one to resist temptation.

The eximius casually makes their way over to the creature, briefly dragging their tongue over their teeth as an instinctive reaction to their proximity. It does not escape their notice that one of the other nearby eximius in the room has been watching them, leering with glowing green over one shoulder as Salamander ignores their pointed gaze entirely.

”This seat taken, handsome?” A single, black claw taps against the surface of the table to get the man’s attention, meeting his eyes with a disarming grin despite the way their stomach clenches and twists in anticipation. Certain wolves they grew used to being around, like their crew and others they were used to seeing quite regularly, but strangers? Dire exposed to eximius frequently have less of a reaction, though they tend to become startled at the more mutated ones. The interaction felt much like a cat waiting for a mouse to squeak, or to run in fear as an excuse to chase.
Offline Ivandriel Jul 25 2020, 2:09 AM
  • Khogate
  • Age: 30
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Dire
  • Rank: Kin
  • Total Posts: 58
  • Played by: Isilzheha
300 Mana · View All Items?
Having been to Porthcrawl before gave a sense of self-confidence that the dire would be able to easily figure out his way around. Though months had passed and he spent most of that time back home, there had been plenty he didn’t see the first time he’d ended up here. Instead of finding a moment to settle and explore the enclosed city more the dire had been over eager to return to Kho’gate. Too much time and too much stress wasted, overall, to think much of the city other than a means to get himself back home. Ivandriel returned now, recharged and full of curiosity all the while, to walk the streets of the slums. The contraption feeding light into the cave city had been an object of fascination the first time the wolf had seen it and it still was. His internal clock and instincts helped in discerning the truth of the time it was, but with the storm along the bay it was increasingly more difficult.

Ivandriel didn’t care for it, even if he expected nothing less of this portion of Gil’ead. It was fertile and sprawling with abundant wildlife and farms. The jungles to the south and along the coasts were both dangerous and intriguing, and out of the two nations the dire didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of traipsing around in Svalbard waiting for the axe to fall. Dorsum had plenty more places to hide and sneak about, even amongst the cities, though as he walked through the crowds he found it odd there were no other wolves among them. None in the immediate vicinity, that was, save the faint traces of their scents.

He could smell the rain on the winds, the salty sea air, and the squalor the humans lived in here. They begged on the streets, cats and dogs with ribs poking against their thinned fur crossing the cracked cobblestone. They were all moving sluggishly with the oncoming storm, thunder rumbling in the distance towards the horizon, but the lack of energy didn’t affect the dire. Ivandriel felt restless and wired for the most part, uncomfortably so, and that showed in his quick movements. Fluid still, like the water that flowed through the canals, but quick. Like moving against the tide the wolf weaved through the denser populace, to the side catered to the wealthy, and put some of that energy to good use.

Coinpurses were left lighter or altogether nonexistent, just long enough for the dire to take what was needed and have the rest be deposited among someone else’s wares. Deft hands and sure feet allowed him to collect a comfortable amount for the short time he spent racing the oncoming storm, Ivandriel returning to the abandoned and ignored half of the city. There would always be eyes upon another, he knew, but at least here it was for reasons he could easily deal with. He didn’t like the prickling of his hair, that uncomfortable sensation crawling down his spine from the nape of his neck when a longer echo of thunder accompanied the flash of lightning. Ivandriel ducked into one of the nearest pubs, not checking even the name or scenting first who might be within. The immediate stench was human, but there were the subtle undertones of their modified counterparts. Carefully he stepped at that point, not so obviously, and found where each of them were sitting. All but one kept to themselves, hardly batting an eye at his presence, and Ivandriel eyed the shun for a second. Glowing green eyes settled on him, Ivandriel’s lip twitching and a scowl starting to form even while in the process of tearing away to find a table towards one of the corners.

Not too many were within the establishment. They talked amongst themselves in quieter tones, barely above a murmur, and Ivandriel found it easier to relax because of it. Nobody but one of the barkeep’s helpers bothered him, and that was only to take a drink order. Of which there were not many, and the few he’d tried already tasted watery and ripe. Piss-like swill, is all it was, but it served the purpose it was meant to for those who could not be beggars in such a way. People came and went, a few of them thinning out until there were even less, and the dire simply listened. It didn’t take much to track the drunkards where they sat, finding them by their less than graceful movements and mumblings, but more importantly where the exi were.

Distantly he’d heard the scraping of the wooden floor, its tempo not one attributed to something mechanical, but Ivandriel was too busy listening to pay much attention elsewhere. He stared at the tankard without really seeing it, settling back in the chair with one arm crossed over to the other that stretched out to toy with the container. Footfalls were crystal clear, pointed and leisurely in his direction, and that’s what he saw first before anything else. Then it was a claw tapping the table, and he heard a relatively feminine voice accompanying the soft clicks.

This seat taken, handsome?

A few things happened at once. He was aware of several pairs of eyes upon him, and the way this one’s shadow extended beyond what should have been the norm. He smelled the sea, something thicker and sweeter, and the stench of exi filtering beneath it much like when he first entered. It was more prominent now, and it caused fingers to curl a little tighter around the tankard in his grip. Tension that didn’t belong to him or the stranger his golden eyes rose up to look at could be felt, the dire quite blatantly staring when he caught sight of the one who spoke. It was because he’d never seen such a mutated shun before, not up close, and he’d never made it a point to go out of his way to approach them. There were scales and horns growing from their head, large ears and teeth accompanying an overall rather animalistic body. “Does it look taken?” he returned sharply, lifting an eyebrow as he made no move to hide his open judgment. Already he expected something less than desirable with how the exi’s glowing eyes seemed to flash brighter, Ivandriel frowning when they made themselves perfectly comfortable nonetheless at the table.

His gaze drifted beyond them to where the others sat muttering to one another, Ivandriel unable to parse it out. So he settled on the one immediately in front of him, body tilting towards the open space between the chair where he sat and the table opposite of the shun. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly then, eyeing them as he brought the tankard up to take another drink. Whatever it was, he was ready if anything suddenly went awry.
Offline Salamander Yesterday, 1:53 AM
  • Rogue
  • Age: 28
  • Gender: Non-binary
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Quartermaster
  • Total Posts: 49
  • Played by: Sbicy
120 Mana · View All Items?
The reaction of the dire is to be expected: teeth. Salamander can smell that he is alone, hiding in plain sight and acting as any man would. A great irony presents itself in this lone wolf, nestled so comfortably among enemies. Nature dictates that a pack means protection, so what has this creature so confident to sit in a corner and don a cloak of wool? However strange, the eximius knew that appearances could be deceiving. Reigning in the tight, excited coil of their muscles, they approach with as non-threatening an air as they can manage. It is quite difficult, given the red tint of their hide and the horns that curve from their skull, but they consider it a success that the wolf doesn't just up and run away.

His words are clipped short, golden eyes darting to the side. Salamander subtly follows his glance, meeting the same green gaze from before. The eximius watching them was as ordinary as they came, all human in looks yet far from it beneath the mask of their skin. An expression of mild disgust is present on their features, open with their dislike of... whatever it was that was bothering them. Being that they were used to getting such stares, Salamander had assumed it was because some disliked sharing commonality with a walking lizard. Give anyone enough time, and they would search for ways to separate themselves within their own fold to find acceptance. It was no different with the eximius. They were not immune to prejudice.

"Fair point," They reply to the dire before pulling out the chair and taking a seat across from him. The ale here isn't the best, leaving a sour stain upon their throat long after they swallow it down. Thunder rumbles in the distance, the air charged and beginning to smell of rain.

"Nothing, really. Just wanted to chat with a good looking man, that's all. Going to be boring waiting out the storm in this place anyway, unless you plan on trying to brave those moldy docks." They, too, show their teeth, but it only as a smile. A tingle settles on the back of their neck, making them painfully aware of the other table staring at them. This kind of attention was nearly always followed up with violence, as per dictated by their experiences. Chairs scrape against the wooden floor, sounding the start of their approach.

A moment that was, no doubt, going to proceed an unfortunate event.

Green-eyes slaps a firm hand on Salamander's shoulder, squeezing as though they were looking for the bone underneath that hard plating. A growl of warning rumbles from the deep wells of their chest, voice lowering from the playful lilt it had before.


The others, two more, are just human.

"We don't want to listen to you playing with your food. Get out, and take the vurk with you." Green-eyes speaks with an even baritone, as if there is no room to argue.

"You can leave if it's making you jealous." Salamander replies, claws reaching up to cover the iron grip on their burning shoulder, "Gonna have to charge you for that nasty language, though." They dig in, easily tearing through the soft flesh and bringing a hiss from Green-Eyes as they release them. The action is quickly followed up by yanking out the chair Salamander was sitting in, making a motion to grab their shirt and jerk them from their seat. The two humans hover by the dire, threatening with their presence.

"No one wants to hear you animals trying to fuck. Go outside where you belong." Green-Eyes turns to look at the wolf, making a motion to grab him, as well. Fast as a whip, Salamander's tail shoots out to coil around the eximus's leg, off-setting their balance and sending them stumbling into the table--using the moment to free themselves of the bloody grip.

"I'll get your dinner if you help a bitch out." Salamander says to the wolf, hands balling into fists as Green-eyes rights themselves.