#innerbeast — 002

[viladlind]

fiyero has gotten skilled at giving apologies, the past few weeks. at least he thinks it's been weeks— almost two, perhaps, if he really wanted to count. he doesn't. passed time has been a blur of comfort that can feel agonizing and pain that is entirely exhaustive. it seems he's unable to decide between one or the other, rather enduring an overlap that he still thinks is his own fault, in parts.

   though, this apology in particular seems easier than most of the others. with dar'khol further removed from fiyero, and with fiyero's actions fairly easily described as wrongful. he asks willem if he can tag along one night, his partner on his way to skullrender to pick up a shift, and snatches the wine bottle he got after zevran's recommendation as they make their way there.

   the club is loud. usually, fiyero would be used to noise, but he hasn't been frequenting the outdoors as much as he probably should have. he finds dar'khol further in the back, after willem points him out, gives fiyero a kiss on the cheek, and scurries off. he's almost hesitant to let him go, but this really isn't a conversation they should be having with anybody else around.

   he approaches as casually as possible, never trying to hide away his presence. the clack of his heels loud against the floor, his tail languidly wagging behind him in a show of caution. once he realizes dar'khol also caught sight of him, he softly waves the wine bottle in his hand, starts talking when he's close enough.

   ' hi. dar'khol. ' it's strange to say the name after he'd called him demon so many times, if only in his mind. he looks ... different. thankfully so. gods, when was the last time fiyero felt out of place? he might still be kicked out for that, not being allowed in this space. isn't sure, tries to gauge dar'khol's expression with a tilted head.

   ' i bring wine and apologies, if you want them. ' an easy offer. fiyero wouldn't begrudge him for not wanting to speak to the tiefling, though he's hopeful the opposite is the case. ' it's good stuff, i'm told. my crow was loath to part with it when i acquired it. '

@innerbeast

[schleckermaul]

' i never say no to sweets, ' break singsongs softly, slowly reaching out a hand until he actually touches the cotton candy that dar offered him. it's a bit of an awkward motion, indicative of his lack of sight, but he really couldn't be bothered to call for mad hatter when he's about to enjoy something tasty.

   stuffing a large portion of it into his mouth, break hums, winking at the other. ' i've been busy. fixing up the gardens and all. now that it's summer, they required maintenance i needed some help with. ' especially with zhilan now gone.

   ' what about you? got up to anything fun recently? '

"care for any? bit much to eat on my own." arm extends to present the generous helping of cotton candy, only a few small bits missing from where the miqo'te had plucked from. "won it at the boardwalk but, as much as i love sweet, it's a lot. figured i'd share! 'specially since i haven't seen your face around for a bit." // @schleckermaul

[viladlind]

love always looks good on people. fiyero's always enjoyed watching it. the smile on dar'khol's face softening his features, the gentle thump of his tail. he seems a person who carries his heart on his sleeve, and it's good to see that that applies to those he holds dear, as well. even the small downturn of his lips speaks to that same passion and care— he's hurt somebody with his rashness, and he feels worse for it. fiyero doesn't mention it. she's grown quite familiar with that state of mind since her latest revival.

   following his gaze to willem across the club, fiyero catches herself in much of the same reaction as dar'khol just had. willem secures her gaze even from there, gives a light wave and a quick grin, and fiyero smiles into her glass as she waves back. she'll have to talk more about this later, she knows that. explain why she's having this conversation in the first place. where the scars came from.

   for now, there's a handsome poet across the club waving at her, and she blows him a small kiss before returning her attention to dar'khol. she makes the mistake of taking a sip while he talks, snorts softly and holds up a hand to cover her mouth.

   ' no shite, ' she repeats cheekily, ' i find him charming at any moment. truth be told, i think we knew each other for less than an hour before i first took him to bed. ' which might be airing out his business, but neither of them care terribly much about their reputation when it comes to this topic in particular. she vaguely gestures her cup in dar'khol's direction, gives him a teasing smile. ' he's incredibly fun. i'd say we could share, but you don't strike me as the type. you'll have to take my word for it. '

   not that she has to spell it out for him. she's sure willem has flirted with his boss plenty before she ever got involved.

   her expression returns to thoughtful when he tells her about returning home as he did. the sting of remembering her own revival has lessened, but the door still hasn't quite recovered from seofon kicking it down. and fiyero still hasn't told everybody dear to her what exactly happened. dar'khol says he can't hide it. fiyero thinks him a bit better than her for it. ' mh, ' she says quietly. ' it's better to receive an earful than it is to receive silence. it implies he's still willing to put up with you, no? when you're holding his affection, you must make sure to carry it with both hands. '

   she looks into her cup. getting philosophical already. lyrical, even. she's drinking too much and too fast. ' what i'm trying to say, ' as an afterthought, trying to make more sense, ' rather dramatically, is that it already happened. don't stumble into more missteps. '

   then she sighs heavily, the same way scratch does when he lays down after a long day of doing nothing at all. her head tips onto the back of the seat behind her, horns thumping against it softly. her free hand comes up to gesture in the air. ' basilio is ... he feels bad. ' she notedly forgets to call him seofon, tipsy as she's getting. ' horrible, in fact. he's not a killer at all. it's why i tried to stop him, but people have this awful tendency of not listening to me when i'm so stunningly wise. ' honestly, why make her a leader in the first place?

   ' physically, he's fine. i had my full healing powers then. but i can't mend wounds of the heart. i could— i just don't have the spells for it. '

one of her friends? brief telling of her alone has the miqo'te twitching an ear with interest, eyes flashing back in the tieflings direction with sparked curiosity. someone of an equal mindset, skill and choice of weapon -- he'd love to meet this friend of theirs, were he ever given the chance.

not a thought dar'khol's able to linger on for long, frankly. his own ears soon mirroring the tieflings with a twitch following her familiarity at the name. they've met before, then? he could only assume. where, or when, he couldn't hazard a guess, but he's not all that surprised, either. guy got around almost as much as dar'khol, himself. fiyero certainly didn't seem like the closeted type, either. or maybe the city is a lot smaller than he gave it credit for.

a short 'ha!' spills into his glass, drowned out with the sloshing of wine down his throat. 'somebody special'. dar couldn't fight off the smile settling across his face if he tried ( or the gentle thud of his tail against his seat ). "aye, you could say that," even if there's a twinge of something else that falters his expression; weighs the curl of his lips downward ever so slightly. a subtle change, maybe. he doesn't pay it much mind, hopes fiyero won't either.

"--willem?" eyes peer towards fiyero for a brief moment, then his head is turning. attention flickering over the many tables, and bar, until a glimpse of said brunette came into view. his stare settles upon the writer for but a moment before dar'khol offers a soft, "oh, aye. will. huh," head turning away again with an idle swirl of his glass.

"no shite? knew the guy talked his way into a lot, didn't know he'd landed any." there's a quiet snort that escapes him, his second glass polished off.

"charmin' when he wants to be, eh? can't imagine ya get many dull moments with him around. certainly seems like he'd be a fun catch, if ya don't mind my sayin'."

were it voiced allowed, she'd be entirely correct in her assumption. he was far too forgiving, but it's hard to hold a grudge over something equally as encouraged. there were no ill feelings left towards fiyero from start to finish of that entire fiasco ( demonic influence not withstanding ), let alone to those attached to her. her actions towards him did not sully dar'khol's impressions of fiyero, herself. or of seofon during everything, and they certainly wouldn't hinder will's position at skullrender.

but the topic of their conversation circles back, and dar finds his hand reaching for the bottle again once fiyero's finished with it. "well, i only know of one yuri with a dog so far. so, my bet's on it bein' one 'nd the same," would of liked to witness that little playdate, honestly. be a far better sight to remember than what he was left with, now. memory alone may have had him pour just a tad bit extra within his glass.

"oh, the news was broken, alright... don't go worryin' 'bout that." another mouthful to swallow down, a sigh to follow. "not really somethin' i can go hidin' -- gettin' home bloodied and beaten. my ears may as well be ringin' still..." did you even try? did you even think?

augh, shift the spotlight!

shaking his head, dar'khol downs another mouthful -- perhaps quicker than intended -- before shifting to lean against the table. "on the topic o' special someone's... how's your other? hadn't looked too good on arrival, but holdin' it together now, i'd assume?" seofon, he means.

[viladlind]

another chuckle from fiyero into his cup as he leans to take a sip. as much as he tries to avoid battles whenever possible, he can't deny that there can be some amount of enjoyment in them. he spends a lot of his time in the backlines of any battlefield. none of his skills are meant to keep him upright all by himself, rather tailored to fighting in a group. incapacitating their enemies and supporting his allies.

   but a healer can never participate in fighting without getting targeted, and even if it's accompanied by astarion racing across to get to fiyero as quickly as possible, sometimes he has to fight by himself. hurt by himself. kill by himself. he's stood over enough bodies to know the satisfaction of being the one who gets to live.

   ' you sound like one of my friends, ' he hums, pleased. not for the first time since arriving on the island, he thinks of karlach and the raw power of having her at his side. one of the first tieflings he built a true bond with— dar'khol would like her. ' she'd be fond of that philosophy. swings a big greataxe around, with equally great skill. '

   he's already on his second glass, fiyero notes as he waves an affirming hand to his question. if his goal was to purely get dar'khol drunk, he would succeed fairly quickly. or maybe he can just hold his drink a lot better than fiyero ever could.

   ' yuri? ' his ears flicker in brief recognition. it takes a moment, to pull the memory from his mind, clouded by recent experiences. when he does remember he takes another sip that's more of a gulp. a pretty man with pretty hair, dark and long. their last conversation feels like it was aeons ago now. judging by the implication in dar'khol's words, it does make sense that his flirtations met a brick wall.

   ' somebody special, i gather? ' a cocked head paired with a smile, though it's understanding and a bit pitying in nature. ' i have a few of those of my own. one of them works for you, actually. willem— the handsome brunette that likes to flirt. '

   another gulp that empties his glass a lot quicker than he meant it to. he really doesn't want any of this to influence willem's position here, but dar'khol seems entirely too forgiving and not like the type of person who would take it out on somebody mostly unrelated. he leans forward to grab the bottle and pour himself more wine.

   ' if it's the yuri i'm thinking of, we met shortly after my arrival. our dogs had a little playdate. ' repede, he thinks the name was. far better trained than scratch ever will be. ' did you already break the news? if he's not fond of your more reckless traits, it'll be better to do it sooner, rather than later. '

it's pleasant, having her laugh. a completely different atmosphere set into play compared to the first impressions they had given one another. dar'khol's smile is able to set with ease as the tension in them both ebbs away, slowly; allowing a means to relax a little in their shared moment.

fiyero's response aids in accentuating the miqo'te's already slanted smile, pushing up a corner with uplifted amusement. "got yourself a talent through 'nd through, managin' on 'nd off the field." his shoulders are set rolling in the waves of a light-hearted chuckle, mouth silenced with another meeting of his glass. "sounds like ya've got your work cut out for ya back home, but from what ya say 'nd what i've seen -- you're pretty damn capable. to hells' with what people may think o' tieflin's, i've got one already settin' my standards high for 'em."

as his glass is lowered, dar follows suit in achieving more comfort. his back joins against that of the booth seat, an arm brought up to rest along its width while a leg hooked over his other; ankle cast over a knee.

her next question earns the sight of a fang, confidence leading his grin as his tail is left to beat against crimson seating. hit the nail on the head, he couldn't deny it if he wanted to. " 'tis a good way o' gettin' the blood pumpin', makes ya feel alive. not a bad way of gettin' to know someone, either. can witness a lot that words can't convey." an airy snort escapes him, amused, before offering a quick bob of the head; a lazy means of a shrug.

"bloody good fun, too, if i'm to answer simply."

he cuts himself short with another mouthful, a drained glass propped upon the table soon after. with a lean, he's reaching for the wine bottle, stopping only once it was in hand with a quick, "may i?" and refilling once given permission. then he's seat bound again before long.

"though i believe i've had my fill for the time bein'." glass is swirled in hand again before downing another gulp, ears folding and rising -- perking at cheers and a thud from his ring. turning his head, he casts his attention towards his club; towards hollering patrons and the pair fighting within the cage. "...well, mostly, but yuri'd prob'ly kill me if i got into another mess like before, and so soon."

the unpleasant reminder of guilt not only had his ears folding back, but set a shudder along his spine. perfect excuse to bury his tongue under more wine.

[viladlind]

a soft shrug when dar'khol mentions that he wouldn't have a reason for demanding he leave the second he saw the tiefling. pursing his lips, he swirls his own glass. ' you never know how amicable someone's willing to be after you sliced them up. i wouldn't have thought worse of you for it. ' briefly, fiyero thinks back to that human adventurer he had punched mere minutes after meeting him. though perhaps that's not a fair example. the man had started throwing slurs around so fast that he almost couldn't think before fiyero stood over his crumpled body with an aching fist.

   it does sting a bit that not even this guy wants fiyero's apology. it had seemed like the easiest option out of all of them, somebody entirely unrelated to him that he tried to cut down without question. he hadn't considered that dar'khol could be the type of person who shows dissatisfaction when the apology leaves his lips, waving a hand as if to chase it away. that's how unnecessary it is to him.

   because he's not bothered by the fight fiyero started— he enjoyed it. what a realization, one that leaves him a little baffled at first, and then entirely pleased, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. a laugh startles out of him with his last comment, body relaxing into the seat behind him. now this, this is a song and dance he can do.

   ' that i do. ' get people hot and bothered. ' though usually outside of the battlefield. don't get me wrong, i'm far from a pacifist. the party that i lead back home is in a bit of a precarious situation and people don't look kindly upon tieflings. the past few weeks at home, i've done more killing than i would have liked. '

   an admission that seems alright, considering dar's entire demeanor about this. fiyero watches, amused, as the other downs his drink without much preamble. he can hear zevran in his mind complaining about that, how delicate a quality the wine is, but fiyero himself has never been one for the fancier food and drink. still, he takes his time, knowing his own tolerance, takes another small sip.

   crossing one leg over the other, he makes himself more comfortable. ' but you like the violence of it, hm? ' gesturing his glass towards dar'khol teasingly. ' i should have figured as much from your reactions. and the fact that you work here, of all places. there's a thrill in it, certainly, but i like to keep it to people that i think deserve it. and to the occasional training session, of course. '

"aye. rowdy as the place is, there are those who prefer a lil' more comfort," willing to provide more dust for it, too. an expense unneeded for the purpose these private seats would offer them. it felt appropriate, all things considered. a corner, quieter than the rest, and something out of the way of usual crowds and onlookers ( and noted, nosy staff ).

with their glasses set, dar'khol eases himself into a seat. odd, he had to admit, placing himself in the position of a patron. far too used to playing the role of an observing wallflower until he could seize his turn in the spotlight. eager hands have met the doors of that cage far too many times, proportions of the ring all but memorized by now.

pop of a cork and the sounds of pouring liquid are nothing more than white noise to him, too. easily drowned out if not for fiyero speaking alongside it -- if not for her sitting across from him. though her words have the miqo'te blinking back in reply, coaxing a tilt of his head.

"wasn't expectin' ya to be showin' up, let alone have a planned reason to toss ya out." even should he have come to dislike her, it hardly felt like enough reason to shoo the tiefling away. he's used to unlikeable company weaving its way through his doors, after all. made good fodder for him in the ring at times... but this wasn't such a case.

reaching forward dar'khol snatches up the remaining glass, pulling it in and offering an idle swirl of the wine within it. a means of idle stalling, really. waiting for fiyero to do away with what doubts the warrior held before indulging himself, but not before his expressions weighs into a faint frown. could do without apologies, he had said, though that hadn't deterred her from providing one.

sighing, dar'khol leans back with a wave of his hand; shooing away her apology to combat it with, "don't. i was askin' for it, remember? if anyone should be sorry, it's my eager arse for encouragin' your swings -- " ah, there it was. relieving confirmation for him to accept the tieflings gift with a gracious mouthful of wine. " -- damn good ones, at that!"

glass meets his lips a second time, throat bobbing as he swallows down another gulp. never was one for savoring his drinks, anyway.

"now, the only thing cruel is i'd possibly want ya doin' it again, but judgin' by the real you... it ain't your preferred song 'nd dance. bit o' a shame, ya know how to get a guy hot 'nd bothered."

[viladlind]

the sound of a chuckle deflates her a little, shoulders not as tense as they were before. part of her was prepared for an unpleasant word or two and to be sent out the door. it'd be understandable. she left her rapier and violin at home, even if she feels a little naked without both of the items. but dar'khol has seen the devastation she can wreak with either, so it wouldn't have been smart to bring them.

   her clothing, too, more revealing than she'd been used to, throughout the last two weeks. a deep neckline that reveals new scars, with her golden band on her throat.

   so it's only the bottle of wine, which is what seems to ease the tension between them the smallest bit. her smile a bit askew at the idea that he doesn't want her apologies— she'll have to press on that part later. for now, fiyero is malleable, follows when dar'khol gestures her to. ' one of your private sections, i gather? ' that's more than relieving. she was ready to have this talk whichever way he preferred, but to know that it'd be out of reach for a curious willem is reassuring, has her more relaxed as they enter the booth.

   ' fancy, ' comes first, a casual compliment, looking around the small section. to know that he's built this entire business while trapped on the very same island ... she watches as he puts the glasses down on the low table in front of them, immediately uncorks the bottle of wine with the tip of a claw. pulling it from her finger with her fangs and putting it back on the table, she pours each glass the same amount, makes sure not to spill anything.

   ' thank you for not kicking me out. ' her look and smile a bit pitiful, reaching over to offer him his glass. she watches him, attentively. now that she's sitting, now that the noise of the club is further away, the small layer of anxiety has ebbed. fiyero is curious— this man that she already shares so much history with, what is he truly like?

   ' i did want to apologize, so— i'm sorry for hurting you. with the intentions that i had. ' which were killing him, at the time, even if she wasn't herself. she leans back in her seat and takes a sip of her own wine. it's as good as expected, zevran's taste in drink and food never disappointing her. it softens her perturbed expression, the obvious guilt on display. ' i wouldn't have attacked you if i hadn't been changed. i've said it before, i have hellish blood myself. it'd be silly, to turn against somebody similar to myself. and cruel, for that matter. '

this place always became an easy escape. a means of throwing himself into something, occupying his time and thoughts enough to remain productive where he would otherwise shut down. not like the emotional stockpile he was given wasn't deserved, but he's not the type to just sit and dwell on it, either.

no, he'd rather be here -- roughly scribbling away at a clipboard. blank spaces filled with participating names, one after another. it seemed he was lucky to earn a full house for the ring tonight, not a single match needing a fill-in. in most cases, the miqo'te would be disappointed, inevitably talking someone out of their spot to let him take their place.

but, tonight, he was rather thankful he wouldn't have to.

a fortunate turn of events for other reasons, too, it would seem, catching sight of a familiar face the moment his attention is brought back to the clubs patrons. old and new.

dar'khol almost isn't sure how to react, or what to say. the warrior merely staring in return, expression bordering on dumbfounded. despite their last meeting riding on the strings of the stars own twisted games, he wasn't certain the tiefling would care to see his face. a demon no longer, certainly, but a face first met within the midst of a chaos unforgettable. wouldn't blame her if he was lumped in with the whole ordeal as someone to avoid for the sake of sanity, but here she was anyway.

the greeting is what knocks him back into the moment, the sound of his name a gentle jostle to remind him he'd a voice of his own to use. and a name he could still recall to greet in turn, though it was spoken as a mere means of recognition. a simple, "...fiyero."

dual-toned eyes lingered for a time, stretching the length of a few heavy beats of music until his gaze flickers down to the wine in hand. from the bottle to her face, an uncertain glance to his clipboard, and then a sigh. an expulsion of breath quick enough it rolls into a breathy chuckle, board set aside to hang in its proper place.

"i could do without apologies, but it is a bit hard to ignore a good drink." his tail sways uncomfortably, exposing nervousness he'd otherwise leave unspoken. though there lies a truth to his words, the past leaves him uncertain of accepting offered drink fully -- especially with lingering doubts of their previous introductions.

dar give a glance around the club, leg swinging behind to pull him into a turn until ears perk in a wordless exclamation. with a look back a hand beckons fiyero to follow while another snatches a pair of glasses from the bar counter, "c'mon, we don't gotta keep standin' out in the open like this. i've a booth seat with our names on it."