#stxrmfyre

[realmbred]

that was one way to get the high priest to stop the verbal fighting. he did appreciate the fact that he could get the last word in. maybe he should work on that whole being right thing. although that wasn't going to stop in that moment. he could still appreciate the fact that there were other ways to get to know someone.

like the white wolf, elenorius also shifted to another way of being when it came to the kiss. normally very docile, he was a little more assertive when it came to the pleasures of the body. he moved his hand up to wrap around the witcher's neck. then and only then, did he lean forward, finally returning the kiss without fighting back. 

Wolf couldn't help the low chuckle that seemed to growl from his chest when Ele just had to get the last words out between them - even going so far as to stopping their kiss. "If you say so." He responded, fingers tracing across the sorcerer's jaw down to his chin to tilt his head back into that perfect position.

For a man moulded by blood and gore, the White Wolf could be rather sweet when he wanted to be, the press of his lips almost tender where one might assume he was all ferocity all the time. But with a rare few - mostly just Elenorius - Wolf could be tender, gentle. He pressed close once more, thick chest practically cornering Ele up against the tree as Wolf stole those lips once more.

[lysainmuses]

A shimmer of light like water rippling fell over his skin as he shifted from the face he wore to sneak into this abandon house into his real one. From old and crippled to young and handsome, Anders now wore his real face as he waited for the one he was to meet here to arrive. This small abandoned house just outside of his kingdom's border was his, bought with a fake name and the place he kept for this sole purpose; to meet Greyson. It was their place they could feel safe, alone and do whatever they pleased. As Anders waited he reached for the bottle of wine he had stored under a loose floorboard and poured himself a glass to pass the time. The place may not be the cleanest or fanciest but no one would look twice at the building and that was why it was perfect to hide in.

@stxrmfyre

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[lcgendsung]

　　"you have not met all highborns. have you?" perhaps it was the liquor emboldening him, or just his natural ego speaking for itself. solomon did consider himself quite far removed from the rest of the noblemen he had met across his nearly three decades. he didn't seek power or strength, but knowledge, purpose, something to live for rather than take life for granted. no amount of gold could satisfy solomon, not when what he sought was priceless. if he was like the rest of them, he wouldn't be there, sharing his plights with a commoner - a witcher, yes, but a commoner nevertheless.

　　 wolf. the answer was simple, and yet it made the prince arch an eyebrow. he did not expect the name of an animal, but the longer he stared at the hunk before him, he could believe that was his name - just based on the namesake alone. having swallowed some more firebrandy, he extended his hand towards wolf. a gesture he very rarely did, often offering no more than a bow. "solomon. who cares what house."

Wolf would give credit where credit was due considering the boy didn't immediately cough up the brandy when he took a sip. The only people the Witcher knew to be able to stomach the stuff were half-giants, elves and Witchers like himself - most others were under the table in a few glasses. But the old hunter did frown when this noble child tried to buy the bottle he'd already paid for. Taking hold of the bottle's neck and pulling it over to pour himself another generous glass, Wolf made no inclination to pass it back anytime soon.

"Figured drinking with strangers was all highborns did." The White Wolf replied, his voice deep, gravelled and words blunt. When it came to the flowery niceties of high society, Witchers were not well versed. He gave a short single laugh when asked for his name - not used to people not recognising him these days. He was a bit of a walking fable, tales of the white-haired Witcher, as savage and brutal a hunter as the creature that shared his name. "Wolf." He replied bluntly. It was the only name he'd ever been given, if he'd ever had another he didn't remember it. Legend had turned it from a simple nickname into a title.

[realmbred]

there were some half-giants that were more skilled at making things. either because they were good with their hands or with their minds. all klogrog had going for him was that he knew where people bled the most from when he hit them. “something like that.” eventually someone was going to make it. might as well take credit for it. “sometimes an arrow's hit isn't true if you're crafty enough though.” other times, it just didn't hurt.

Greyson couldn't help his chuckle when the other continued to argue the point with him, as if he was adamant and not giving any ground or agreeing on anything. "Stubborn, are you arguing for the sake of it my Stormfyre?" Shrykos commented only making Greyson's amused smirk grow.

"Oh so you are working on something of the sort?" The rider teased as he leaned back in his seat, sipping his ale contently. "That they do, and they usually make the most amusing of mistakes, like thinking they can outrun an arrow or stealing a boat will actually save them from my pursuit."

[lcgendsung]

　　"of course..." solomon couldn't argue against the rider. there were plenty of people out there with greater struggles than those of a noble prince trying to find a purpose in life. so perhaps it was better to move past his frivolous problems, if anything while he sat next to one whose father wouldn't even bother to recognise as his own blood - not willingly, at least. his focus went back to the dragon, admiring the way in which greyson and her could talk so easily. what solomon would give to understand the language of the dragons.

　　"tell her she's welcome any time." he smiled, letting out a chuckle of his own as soon as the crow reacted to the icy huff in his own way: flapping his wings and making a jump back, landing on the prince's shoulder. "hey, do not be afraid, she is just speaking back to you." he cooed, fingers moving up to sooth the back of his feathered friend. "well, if your pursuit takes longer than expected, trust that you'll find a bed and a meal in the palace for you both. consider it a present for your valiant services."

"I'm sure others would argue there are worse things to be discontent with about life." Greyson shrugged. He could empathise with what Solomon described and how he might feel dissatisfied with those options, but a highborn always had privilege over others. The rider certainly didn't envy the restraints of duty - never being claimed by his father meant he was free, and with Shrykos, his freedom was far greater than most others, something he would always be eternally grateful for.

"The borders and kingdoms of men mean nothing to me, I fly where I please." The she-dragon replied making Greyson chuckle at her icy tone and words, proud as she was cold. "She says thank you." Greyson translated, earning himself a swat from her tail tip, that only made the rider laugh more. When the crow cawed at her, Shrykos let out a huff of chilling steam from her snout at the bird.

"The offer's kind, but we prefer the pursuit and hunt. I like to see what they'll try to avoid us and Skrykos does like sinking boats." Greyson grinned, his fingers brushing blue scales affectionately.

[thunderclapbennett]

"Oh that's true. You're all so fine featured. I bet you think the rest of us look like brutish apes. You are kinda right I got called a ginger gorilla a lot in training." he said looking down at himself for a moment, the comparison wasn't the worst, and while there were time Bennett wished he was more refined, graceful and delicate for the most part he enjoyed himself and his body. He flexed his muscles the hems of his clothing straining under the pressure of his muscles.

"Yeah I have done a fair bit of travelling so far and like- most place people are a lot a like. We wanna eat, sleep, and fuck. You know a quiet life." Bennett liked the idea of other people's cultures as well he enjoyed local foods and customs. Especially the alcohol. Ben blushed and looked down. "Yeah well it made me feel filthy and if he had gone any further I'd have lit him up like bonfire in high summer."

Altair chuckled. "Like many of my kind we are blessed with a particular kind of beauty." The half-elf mused, silver eyes catching every detail of the other's movements and gestures even if it appeared as though he wasn't entirely paying attention.

"Tolerance is surely lacking in the world." Altair agreed. His own faith taught a lack of discrimination, but not because it might make the world a better place, but simply because death comes from all. No matter who you were or where you were from, you were all the same in the eyes of death and his followers. If you name was given to Death's Hands, your time was borrowed. Altair had taken the lives of the richest and the poorest, kings and paupers - they were all the same to him. He listened as Ben spoke more of what had brought him to Lysain, nodding to show his attention. "An unfortunate side-effect of the rich, they seem to think they own everything."

[realmbred]

a lot has changed since he was born. a lot about him had also changed. elenorius knew that change was good because if it never happened, he would have never gotten to where he was at that point. therefore, he needed to be an agent of improvement. usher people into a new age whenever it was coming to fruition. he surely wasn't going to hold people back. the high priest would have never forgiven himself for that. even if he did feel old sometimes. that feeling was often fleeting because he tried to put all of that behind him. had to focus on so many other things. 

elenorius moved his right hand up and wrapped it around the white wolf's neck. at the same time, he placed his other hand on the man's chest. even though he did return the kiss, with just as much passion as normal, he pulled him away with some added force. “i'm talking the right amount.” he dropped the hand from the chest, ready to resume the kissing.

Wolf gave a mild responsive grunt at the idea of travelling around in young circles. Everyone he met felt like a child to him most days, all so limited with their experiences of the world when he had travelled everywhere and lived long enough to see it all change. For a moment he wondered if Elenorius ever felt the same - the youth of the world around him making him feel ancient, or that he was slowly becoming some permanent fixture to the world, a constant that would continue on forever without change while everything else around him did.

The Witcher listened for only a moment longer before he simply closed the space between them, one calloused and battle-scarred hand coming to rest at Ele's neck, tilting it to the perfect angle that Wold could capture his lips in a rough but familiar kiss. "You're talking too much." He reminded the other against his lips before he claimed them once more.

[realmbred]

“careful now. that just means that you travel around young circles.” one of elenorius best friends, if he could call them that, that was 300 years old. he wondered if they even enjoyed living for so long. there was a lot that changed in the kingdoms throughout the centuries. just look at varlinnis. if someone from 100 ad went to it today, they wouldn't recognize it.

the high priest's head tilted a little bit to the side when he was called out. “you're putting words in my mouth now.” he did like to give his little lectures. that was never going to change. he always liked to put his thoughts out there. if he didn't, then elenorius would feel like he was holding something in his chest. “i am happy to see you. that doesn't take away from the fact that i feel like i have to also express what i feel about some of your words or choices.” there was a balance there. he was just brutally honest. was that so bad?  

"I'm older than most people - simple fact." Wolf reminded with slight smirk. Perhaps that was one of the things that added to his legend, that unlike most Witchers he had survived the life they were bred for, to live almost two centuries. He'd likely slain more monsters than any other - too old and set in his ways to move on to another purpose now.

Wolf listened, the sounds of the forest creeping back in around them as he contemplated over Elenorius' words for a while. It didn't change his mind, likely nothing ever would, a Witcher should die doing what they were created for. If some chose to waste themselves on the comforts of nobility, Wolf would never respect them. "You're calling me pompous." Wolf stated with a raised brow, his smirk amused to match Ele's own. "Perhaps for once you could just be happy to see me instead of these never-ending lectures and always needing the last word?" He teased.

[realmbred]

“you are older than me and that's simply factual.” he had no room to speak. he was older than most of the humans running around. by any mundane sense of the term age, he was old. still, that wasn't going to stop him from poking fun at the white wolf. he would any chance that he got. this game of cat and mouse that they were playing was fun. made him feel like he was forty years old again, ahh, youth.

“as idiotic as it might be, sadly it's something that people have to deal with. the world is filled with things that don't make sense yet are real.” elenorius saw that a lot in his line of work too. dealing with the world of magic already made half of the things he saw unbelievable. someone retiring because they didn't want to hunt down monsters anymore was more normal than hunting monsters. “i'm not telling you that's the life you should choose for yourself. i'm simply saying it's not so easy to judge others without knowing the full story.” the high priest shrugged casually. “i can't judge a high priest that had a bad experience and turned their back on the old religion, now can i? that would be extremely pompous of me.” a small grin formed on his face. 

"Almost sounds like you're calling me old." Wolf chuckled in amusement. He knew when it came to magic he wasn't exactly much of a match, even with the limited powers of his own. He was built to slay beasts, trained and sharpened like his silver sword. He knew everything about monsters, their strengths, weaknesses, the best strategies - but Ele was a quarry he'd never really mastered even after all the years of trying.

"I'm not denying their existence, just stating how idiotic it is." The White Wolf shrugged dismissive at the idea of a Witcher laying down their silver sword in exchange for protecting some prissy princling. "None of us dream of dying being bested by a hunt." Wolf shook his head, voice gruff and short. If he'd had other dreams as a child he certainly didn't remember them - too long walking the life of a Witcher, bathed in blood and death from the horrors of the world. "And you know I've been doing it longer than most." He reminded the sorcerer. "I've no respect for one of my kind who's chosen to go soft or will there always be orphans and children sold off to make more of us? Should I give up all I've ever known, the very essence of what I am to grow fat in some city?" The mere notion disgusted the Witcher, the thought written clear on his face, golden eyes almost blazing.

[realmbred]

far be it from him to get something passed a witcher's eye. he had trained plenty of them to know that they were always in tune with their surroundings. his lips curved on one of the corners, eyes never leaving the white wolf. “perhaps. do you think you're finally fast enough to dodge one of my attacks?” he could challenge the man right back. that was never an issue. 

“just because you are not one for those, does not mean that they don't exist. a tree still falls even if no one is around to witness it.” while speaking about trees, he did pull his hand back, done with whatever he was doing with the tree behind him. “not all witchers dream of dying because they're slain by a monster. that life can get quite repetitive depending on how long you've been doing it.” plus, more and more could always be trained. one didn't have to die for a kingdom could get a new one, so what was it to the others? elenorius wondered if he would've been this accepting with his own family. “and are your comfortable in the cold?” 

Wolf gave a mild grunt of amusement, used to Ele always dishing out his words of wisdom which the Witcher both listened to and ignored over the years. It didn't go unnoticed to Wolf's eyes when the High Priest touched his fingers to the tree behind him - no doubt feeling the magic available to him. "Readying to strike me down?" He challenged with an amused raise of his brow.

"I've never been one for fate or coincidences." Wolf shrugged, watching that waggle of fingers. "Retired?" The word was spoken with obvious skepticism and even a little disgust. "Coward, life on the road too difficult for him? Needed to hang up his silver sword in exchange for some pretty plate-mail?" It was clear what the White Wolf thought of any Witcher that didn't die the death they were created for, even a Witcher who died of old age - if there ever was such a thing - was a disgrace to the Wolf. When Elenorius didn't back away from his touch, Wolf continued although now he wished his glove was removed so he could feel the heat of the other's skin. "Maybe it has."

[realmbred]

“your honor isn't nothing. sometimes that's worth dying for.” one could tell that klogrog was the stubborn type. it was going to be hard to get him to budge. mainly because he didn't bother trying to think from someone else's point of view. it was hard enough to do that for his own way of thinking.

“i probably won't sell it or market it to anyone else, so it's not something that anyone but me would have access to. although i know a couple of skilled blacksmiths.” he shrugged, not knowing if they'd get their hands on it. “idiotic men still feel satisfying when you finally beat them down.”

"Better to live smart than die a fool for nothing." The rider shrugged as he sipped his ale. He had no great notions of being some hero or name told in tales and songs for the ages. He already was recognisable by most in Vissai as Lord Frosthell's infamous bastard, now he simply lived for freedom and his dragon.

"Well when you invent something that can protect those areas better than current armour serves, let me know. I'll need to change my tactics for business." Greyson chuckled. "For me, usually just idiotic men, or the occasional deer and rabbit while travelling on the road. I'm no Witcher hunting monsters."

[realmbred]

“death isn't pointless. life is pointless once you're dead. there's a difference.” even then, what you did while you were alive was still an important thing and had many points. although klogrog often times ended up just saying a string of words that he thought made sense. it would be a mystery if he actually thought death wasn't pointless or not.

“then would a good warrior still not make sure those weak spots are protected someone? little men often times lose wars over stupid mistakes. although people also need to just grow tougher skin.” as if it was that easy. klogrog was speaking like everyone could grow over a feet taller and thicker in size, a small smile forming on his face. “depends on what the blade is cutting into.” what if someone had armor made out of a rock?

"Staying alive over winning is the smarter move - death is a pointless thing." Greyson shrugged casually. Despite his choice of career path he wasn't eager to see his life end - perhaps it was having a powerful dragon in his ear constantly reminding him that she had chosen him because he wasn't a weak, arrogant fool and if he proved her wrong she'd have to eat him.

"Armour needs to bend for mobility, joints are always weak points whether its gaps in platemail or thinner material in hide and leather. Chainmail is a more difficult opponent but even that can't stop a blade point or a well trained archer's arrow." He countered with a smirk, enjoying the discussion while signalling for a barmaid to bring another mug of ale. "Cheap blades snap, unless you're trying to plunge your sword into dragonhide." The comment alone making Shrykos laugh from her position in the sky.

[realmbred]

“easier spoken, than lived, my old friend.” not that he thought the white wolf betrayed his own words. it was just always the right moment to give out sage advice. especially when no one seemed to ask for it. he moved his left hand down, pressing it up against the tree behind him. not only did it ground him, but elenorius felt the power coursing through it. something that might be useful with the witcher prowling around like the hunter that he was. “some say coincidence, others say fate. i can't make up that side of the equation up for you.” with his right hand, he moved it up to wiggle his finger side to side. “while that's the normal way, remember you don't speak for the full lot. perhaps i've met a witcher that has retired from hunting and became a knight instead. that would crumble your whole argument.” again, he just couldn't let well enough alone. he always had to get in the last word. “by the angels, hell might freeze over.” his jaw tightened as he looked up at the man, not backing away from the touch. 

"I take nothing for granted." The Witcher shrugged his solid shoulders. When his entire existance was a dance with death, he took every opportunity to live, even if he lived for the hunt most of all. Golden eyes watched as Ele seemed to centre himself with a deep breath, curious if he could ruffle those pretty and perfect feathers even just a little - a game Wolf always played around the Priest. "So simple coincidence crossed our paths today?" He asked, feet taking him in a slow circle around the other, steps measured, even, as a hunters should be. He laughed, the sound deep and gravelly, at the jab to his less than altruistic nature. "When has a Witcher done any less? We are certainly not knights in gleaming armour come to save the village - we're monsters made to hunt monsters and I'll damn well get paid for my hard work." He shrugged, finally coming to a stop in front of Ele once more. "For once I might agree with those spirits of yours." He said, leather gloved fingers reaching out to trace the other's jaw, following the path of his throat.

[ofcrownandglory]

It was no secret that the heir of House Gauthier was a fan of sitting in a tavern, mug of ale in hand, and his being named the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hadn't stopped that. What he didn't expect, however, when he had ventured into the tavern with a couple of his men that wanted to celebrate his newfound position, was to see the infamous white wolf enter. Eyes had turned to watch the witcher as he entered, and as he approached the bar, the half-giant turned to look at his men. As interesting as their company was, something told him that the company of the other would be far more intriguing.

"Your gold is no good here, my friend," the Lord Commander spoke as he approached bar, moving to place a hand on the other's shoulder in a friendly pat before he moved to sit on the too small bar stool next to him. "Leana, put whatever he wants on my tab, aye?" The barmaid gave him a nod as she began to pour the first of what he assumed would be many mugs of ale. "It's the least I could do for someone that protects our lands." It might not be for glory, but even still, he knew it was best to show his appreciation.

The half-giant offered his hand to the other, smile pulling at his lips. "Name's Rodrik. It's an honor to meet the famed white wolf in person."

location: tavern in any kingdom

A fresh bag of coin in hand, the head of the Striga delivered to the Lord who'd put out the bounty on it after the beast had killed a number of farmers. An unfortunate end for the woman cursed to become the creature, but Wolf didn't care much beyond the coin his was owed when a job was done.

Now the Witcher had a moment to rest, resupply before returning to the wilds of the continent to take up other bounties. And after a good hunt there was nothing the White Wolf liked more than cool ale, a hot meal, and maybe another body to warm his bed for the night. He shoved open the tavern door, pulling down the hood of his cloak to reveal white hair and golden eyes before heading straight for the bar. "A hot meal. Ale, keep it coming." He gruffed at the barmaid, dropping down a few gold coins.

[lcgendsung]

　　there was a grain of truth to the words of the rider. something solomon had considered before, yet it never sat well with him. "that should be the case. i just..." what was he supposed to say? "it is difficult for me to accept my place. my choices are being taken as a consort for the highest bidder, or just living and dying as another prince who did nothing but rest on his laurels. either option just makes me dissatisfied." and yet he didn't know what to make out of it. "and then there is my father, who just doesn't mind showing which ones are his favorite children."

　　rather than focusing on the pressing issues of his existential crisis, he turned his attention to the dragon, smiling at the purring she exhaled. not very different from a cat's, if his interpretation was correct. "it is my pleasure to meet you, shrykos. feel welcomed in our kingdom. cedric, come out of there and greet our guests." just then, solomon stopped the bird from pecking on his notes any longer, as he slipped out of the bag and jumped up to greyson's thigh, beady eyes fixated on the dragon. he cawed, perhaps thinking she's understand his own language.

　　"i see." he nodded, understanding the reason to their sudden stop. "i suppose you will not be needing any help with that, but if you need me to put the docks under patrol, that can be arranged."

Grey considered the notion finding he could relate a little. Bastards were always unwanted in their father's eyes and Lord Frosthell was far too proud to ever legitimise his bastard, even if Greyson was his true firstborn, his only son that could actually fight and wield a sword, who had claimed a dragon, the dragon of their lands even. But none of that mattered, he would always be a disappointing scandal. "I thought life was easy for the spare princes, no worries of being king someday, just live comfortably from your family title." The rider mused in thought.

Greyson couldn't help he laugh and wide grin when Solomon called Shrykos milady, although the proper greeting did melt some of the icy dragon's cold exterior, a low almost purr sounding from her throat. "Her name is Shrykos, the Winter Storm." Greyson introduced where his dragon could not.

When asked what he was doing so far from Vissai the rider shrugged. "I'm a bounty hunter and my quarry thinks they can escape me on your coastline. Probably hoping to acquire a boat - as if that would ever stop a dragon." Greyson chuckled, mirrored by his dragon.