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Post by enchilada on May 31, 2019 0:10:43 GMT
So, after that self declared oath of normalcy, where exactly was Dhaunmyr? Certainly not where he would have been normally. That is to say, if he had actually achieved a sense of what it was to be normal. Which he, arguably, had not. Just because he did the daily routine of working and cooking and cleaning, in part thanks to his extra hours of the day, didn’t mean that he wasn’t still somewhat... not — tempted, but rather... forced, by his own lack of energy, into staying in and not even leaving his room. Other times, he would succumb far too quickly to what he knew were pleasures that would, eventually, kill him. But it all seemed so far away, and not worth bothering worrying about, because, really, that was how he felt. He didn’t want to put himself in danger and die, but, well. If he were to somehow be too blinded by the sun and find himself at the bottom of an incredibly high drop, then that was just business as usual.
That line of thinking was why he was out. Dhaunmyr was starting to remember things, things he thought were lost, but were simply clouded. Maybe by the pain, maybe by a lot of things, but everything that was a potential reason? It came down to someone’s help, maybe three people, maximum. Okay, four. But that one was just something he told himself to feel better. He’d never seen him again, and he wished he had. He wished he’d dragged that man up to his room and not let him go, even in the morning. There was something there, when he stared with those half ghastly, yellow eyes. Dhaunmyr wished he’d given himself the chance to figure out what it was, even if he’d just found out where he was likely to be over the next few days, so he could find him. But he couldn’t go back to that tavern after those events, and he was really running out of options.
Not that it mattered to him. There was someone big, and strong, and with very little regard for Dhaunmyr’s unending ramblings of a slightly drunk, very tired man, walking next to him. Dhaunmyr really had a terrible habit of picking the wrong people, and he didn’t even care. That wasn’t the point, the point was to just... what was it, again? He looked up, he saw... nothing. He’d broken his hand last time, but he’d also been too far gone to remember almost anything about why or how, or who with. His stomach tugged, and told him Kara, but it was a stupid thought. If Kara had seen him so vulnerable, after all the help, all the training, that just wouldn’t be acceptable, and there would have been no way she would have moved in with him.
Nonetheless, walking. Moving. Going. Step, step, step... walking. A gentle sigh. Eilistraee’s sake, would the evening really take so long? If only he saw someone he knew, then it wouldn’t feel cheap to skulk away. But he didn’t.
What he did see, was close enough. Much shorter — no, just a little. Dhaunmyr forgot his heels for a second. There was something odd, about how he looked, but Dhaunmyr was certain that the human next to him would barely grasp that he and whoever that was were not entirely the same person. But it was... humans didn’t come that colour, right? Oh — half caste? He was sure if it had been a high elf reject like Faerveren, he would have assumed immediately the man for human and moved on entirely for another approach. But this... this could work.
The bejewelled man smiled widely to this... uh... what was a nice term for it? Surface...spawn? Then waved, then looked over his shoulder — and, then — very lightly jogged over to him, maybe just a power walk? Maybe... maybe he just had big steps, even. “Oh! My goodness! Surely it cannot be! After all this time, and we came so very separated, but my Underdark acclimated eyes could not possibly ever deceive me from the face of dear Aunt Zilvra’s secondboy! Such luck! Eilistraee’s will must have swung it.”
His smile was forced once it was directed completely to this stranger, he tilted his head as if to gesture to leave with him. He wasn’t — he just didn’t want to have to break another bone over something like this, something that was a mistake, something that brought him far away from ideals, potentially put his hypothetical future relationships potentially on a rocky start, and, somehow, made him feel guilty when he saw Kara again the next day.
Faerveren understood him when he spoke, he would only assume that this one would too. A mumble in Elvish for him, then. “I don’t know you, but I don’t know him either, I also don’t care where you’re going. Please, can I go with you?” Dhaunmyr wasn’t worried, of course not, why would he ever be worried, there was no need for it. Except it didn’t feel right. Sometimes things just felt wrong.
“We simply must catch up on everything.” Dhaunmyr finally turned to the human, apologetically, of course. “Many apologies, my dear, but it would appear that a rather odd occasion has brought itself to me, and, well, quite frankly, I wouldn’t desire for my darling baby cousin here to report back to my matron that I’ve been... sampling the locals.”
Satisfied that he didn’t care to or need to hear a response from anybody, Dhaunmyr grabbed the half-elf’s hand and scurried off, in a direction he could only assume he had originally been headed. Would he give an explanation, or would it be asked of him? He decided to give a moment to decide how to react to Dhaunmyr, as he hadn’t allowed this ‘cousin’ to do so before. Selfish, perhaps. Also, likely avoided either an actual explanation to the face of someone that they were starting to make Dhaunmyr uncomfortable, no fault of their own, perhaps? Or something more alike when he broke his goddamn hand.
A moment to wait.
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Post by sojourn on Jun 4, 2019 1:43:59 GMT
Spring 1490 DR Dock Ward | Late Afternoon O ver the years, people had often made a point to make sure Kieran knew one of two things: either what he was or what he was not. He was not human. He was not an elf. He was drow. He was not full drow. He was an orphan. He was not wanted. He was trouble. He was helpful. He was not welcome. He was kind. He was dangerous. None of it ever felt as though it agreed, none of it ever came together into some ideal image of who he was supposed to be or even who he wasn't supposed to be, and so the half-drow had honestly made his own life and forged his own path as he saw fit. And to the Nine Hells with those who chose to tell him otherwise! There'd been a few people over the years who'd taken the time to see past whatever was otherwise displeasing: from his mixed heritage to the dirt under an urchin's fingernails. Niall, Mateo. They'd been his first real friends. His teacher, now dead, had seen far more in Kieran than the half-drow saw in himself, even now, and yet in Thi Zain's honor, he continued to search through the shadows to find the light the man had promised was hidden somewhere within. Bullshit, probably, but Kieran could hope, right? Today, he was at least trying to make right of something, and that something was catching some other asshole who'd been causing trouble. While the City Watch claimed to do their job, there were far too many folks whose problems they didn't deem worth looking into, and that's where the half-drow was more than happy to step in—perhaps he'd been some of that trouble as a youth and he knew where to look and who to talk to. He'd heard from one of his neighbors, a simple tailor and his family, that there'd been some pressure put on caravans to pay protection money to some mercenary company or another and that money was supposedly to keep some bandits at bay. The Watch didn't necessarily see a problem with free enterprise, but this sort of extortion threatened to raise prices of goods for the common folk and Kieran set about hunting down who to glean more information from. Only, one of those well-informed individuals, Tien Yugal, decided to take off before ever having a proper conversation. Trailing him carefully through the crowded streets, Kieran moved with the kind of grace that marked him as both a native and a skilled hunter. He wove past strangers, lithe and quick, violet gaze on the back of his target, careful not to draw too much attention to himself from those around him, let alone the City Watch. He was finally closing in on the short, wide older human who was surprisingly nimble when he was motivated to escape interrogation when something completely unexpected happened. Movement caught the corner of his eye: dark skin and the sparkle of jewelry, and interrupting his quick steps were suddenly interrupted by the interception of a stranger, "What—no—I think you're—" At first, Kieran made to shy away, a shift of his feet like some dodge in combat, the quick flash of a glance at his fleeing target before he focused on the interloper's face. Like his, but clearly full-bloodied. A drow. Claiming to know him? Ridiculous. No one had ever laid claim to— Oh. There was something in the other man's expression, some edge to the tone of his voice, some sort of furtiveness that Kieran wasn't ignorant of. It was a forced friendliness. It was some kind of need. His jaw clenched, already uncomfortable in the presence of some real representation of half his heritage, and he let his gaze slip over the other man's shoulder to scan the crowd behind the drow, leaning toward him when he mumbled in Elvish and resisting the urge to refuse the request. He was trailing someone— Shit. "Ellistraee's will—Me? N-no—I think you might have me mistaken for someone else, and—" Far smoother than his Common, the lilting language of a people who did not want him came with a strange ease from his lips, the last syllable more of a grunt than a word, however, tongue against the ring through his lip while he shifted his attention back toward his prey who was portly enough to cause the crowd to part before him like some heavy-laden merchant vessel parting the sea to make its way toward its chosen port, dropping his voice into a whisper and continuing in Elvish while he slowed his steps more, "—you picked a bad time, but—fine."The drow turned his attention to the much larger stranger that he'd claimed had been following him or bothering him or something that somehow required dragging Kieran along. The half-elf's body tensed at the brush of fingers, the mention of family that so clearly wasn't his, and the worry that perhaps this third party the full-blooded, darker, far more graceful man wanted away from wouldn't take kindly to the refusal. He surely wasn't anything that couldn't be dealt with, but his violet gaze couldn't be watching two bodies at once and the body he was pursuing was going to disappear around a corner if he wasn't careful. Unsure of what else to do with himself other than roll with this strange invitation, Kieran made some noise of impatient confusion, tongue against the back of his teeth and didn't shoo the stranger away, curling calloused fingers around bejeweled ones and tugging in the direction he was actually headed, returning to his streetwise, rough-around-the-edges Common, "If this is some kinda' joke 'cause I'm obvious an' all, you're gonna cost me a mark an' I'm gonna have t' ask you t' step off. If it's not, well—just watch your, uh, local friend. I'm followin' someone else, t' be fair. Convenient cover y'are now, like it 'r not, so don't blow it." Like some other stranger of drowkind totally blew the half-drow's life all those years ago by his very existence—that's what his tone of voice implied (totally unspoken, of course). His words were sharp and quick, but he was forced to slow his steps with someone so close, to change the way he wove through the other bodies on the street and make it look natural. It was a struggle and he heard more of the flutter of his pulse than he heard his own thoughts. |
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Post by enchilada on Jun 19, 2019 10:49:45 GMT
“It’s not a joke because you’re obvious, you were simply a reason to excuse myself. Now. I’m happy to help you, just tell me what you need.” Dhaunmyr felt like there was enough context there — enough, perhaps, to just focus on anything else. That focus would flutter over to his ‘cousin’, who he wasn’t sure how exactly to read. He did find these kinds of mongrels difficult, of course, how was he supposed to know an elven nuance from a human stumble? At least, if there was any hidden language (body, eyes, expression, tone — anything) at all, it would be in a dialect he knew, probably. But something about the way he spoke in Dhaunmyr’s original tongue made him doubt even that. In his own way of speaking, Elvish would be harsher, more hissing, although still flowing and dancing, and Common would be softer. There was so much not knowing...
He supposed he could, instead of turning over the stranger in his mind, trying to figure him out from angles he hadn’t approached just yet, he could just focus on the situation that he’d brought up. In a way, he figured that someone who was so quickly threading through people. Even when they were like wading through the dark lakes, when they came up to your shoulders, and if you were worried about your coinpurse as much as your blood, your flesh, staying where it was supposed to be, then you were as cautious and anxious as you would have been while thinking about whatever creatures were dwelling all around you. In Waterdeep, it was probably more important to have gold than have legs. He’d seen plenty of sailors, he supposed if there was no magical healing option you just... made good with what you had.
Another reason why humans were beyond mundane and boring as getting dressed in the dark.
The dark — would this man be able to see without light? More things he didn’t know. More and more and — it was okay to not know things sometimes; sometimes, it was better to not know at all. Dhaunmyr certainly felt that, for many things he had left behind, he’d left them for a reason, and he wasn’t going to think about them again, nor would he ask the questions, if he ever managed to get the opportunity. He was sure he’d been forgotten, in deed, indeed. Why would she keep herself to herself while he was gone? Even for a day? She was entitled to do that, so...
“You aren’t in trouble, are you?”
Following. Cover. None of it sounded particularly... above board. Dhaunmyr wouldn’t judge, of course, he wasn’t the most law-abiding man in the world, but did these laws actually apply to him? He wasn’t sure how that part worked. Also, technically, can you put a possession in court? Hold on — focus. Dhaunmyr kept his focus by trying to read this guy again and — still no. Too weird, too confusing.
He’d never said that understanding people was a specialty.
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Post by sojourn on Jul 7, 2019 22:16:50 GMT
"I n trouble? Me? Nah. I'm th' trouble—" Kieran couldn't help but scoff, using his free hand to point as though he was giving directions, but if the drow followed the waggle of his calloused fingers, they would be just able to make out a quickly moving little round man roughly attempting to blend his way into the crowd. He was doing a poor job, even foolish enough to glance over his shoulder as if he was truly expecting to be followed or as if he was very aware that the half-drow was after him, "—jus' chasin' some folks who've been raketeerin' a few caravans an' promisin' protection without deliverin' on th' road."He summed up, aware that it was ridiculously stupid and probably risking of his own life to share the truth with some stranger, especially when said stranger was a dr—wait, no. He wasn't going to pass the same judgments on this elf that were far too often passed upon him even though the other man had already proven himself rather ... sudden? unexpected? possibly questionable in motivations? Whatever. "It's what I do for a living. Lookin' out for Waterdeep in all the places the City Watch doesn't want to. So, you're either helping me or r you're in my way—" He paused his elvish reply as if he would have otherwise had a name to insert there—right there—to call the drow whose hand he'd yet to have actually released while he wove them both with uncanny skill through the crowd, not letting another sideways glance to his companion distract him from keeping his sights on his mark. He didn't ask for one, however, letting the awkward ending of the sentence hang between them as though that were question enough, his elvish smooth and well-practiced as though he'd made actual efforts at being comfortable and fluent for his own reasons. He didn't have time for niceties. Not now. Maybe later. He was working, not socializing. The round man glanced over his shoulder as if suddenly, finally, suspicious, and Kieran tugged them both toward a vendor's cart in the middle of the street, the old dwarf with his collection of hand-carved pipes and other woodworked items grumbling as the two dark-skinned creatures slipped behind his little mule-pulled cart for a moment. As far as Kieran could tell, they weren't noticed. He wasn't noticed. He even fished a handful of coins from his pocket and left them there for the vendor without buying a thing, carefully striding back out into the busy street, now very determined to close the distance between themselves and his mark, "Let's see if we can get a little closer. It's about time I stop trailing and start catching."[/font][/b] Not that he even had any idea if this stranger truly wanted to be helpful or not, but the half-drow finally untangled their hands and offered the flash of a smirk, picking up his pace to his true, swift stride as if challenging the elf to keep up, to follow. [/div] |
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Post by enchilada on Aug 15, 2019 22:15:14 GMT
“You’re the trouble? Dear, how ever could you expect me to believe that someone as handsome as yourself could be any more than trouble for a poor damsel like me, or, rather, her parents?” He felt a chuckle rise in his chest, and Dhaunmyr less than absentmindedly let the knuckle of his index finger find his throat. Dhaunmyr hadn’t stared long enough at Kieran to make that kind of assessment, he had been finding that his eyes lied for quite some time until they settled. The woman he made dinners for out of love and not fear for his life was... well, bleeding when he first met her, a deathly glow about her in his arms as the moths beat around the lamps. The fire behind the glass had painted them a gold, but he felt the silver in another way. She was worth more than either metal, and far more stunning. Dhaunmyr would have to wait to see if Kieran was a shapeshifter, too.
Was all of Waterdeep as changeable? As unknowable? But Dhaunmyr believed Kieran for now. Things did change, but he believed about the caravans, at least. It was the kind of thing he’d heard about when he swung around guild halls, but not something he’d experienced yet. He — they staffed their own way. Dhaunmyr had a sharp protective instinct, the kind that meant you didn’t really need protection. Besides, if you don’t have any hard-looking mercenaries next to your horses, the people in the bushes aren’t going to assume you have much worth taking.
And Dhaunmyr was a bad omen. To some.
“Would you like me in your way? Maybe you can— I’m kidding. I’m not as useless as I let on. I’ll be good as gold. And that’s a Vivacity promise. I may be the only in the family, but we do take such things seriously. This is my taking it seriously voice.”
If his first traumatic night in Waterdeep had anything to say for itself, Dhaunmyr was good at being pulled around and told what to do. There was something about being in the city that managed to get him to shut up. His teeth behind his lip worried the flesh like they understood the answer, they found the tiny holes that scarred inside for shiny studs he decided didn’t fit his aesthetic anymore. Like they wanted again to remove what was unnatural. This was unnatural.
“Closer?” He needed to affirm it in a manner of speaking that didn’t feel like claustrophobia and cobwebs. Dhaunmyr was cautious of the cover, and now perhaps a little more cautious of Kieran. “Just — run at.. here? You really think that’s half a good idea?”
But was he one to judge? Dhaunmyr was one for staying away, far away, where it was safe to pick people off. For that reason, he had no alternatives, if that was really what Kieran was suggesting, so he had no complaints. At least, so far none. Things can change.
And then he went — as much as Dhaunmyr would have adored to keep up like that, he wasn’t sure he could do it in all the bulk of people. But he was sure that the person that this surprising fellow was after would not have the speed to keep away. Once Kieran had him, surely Dhaunmyr would be able to assist. If this boy mentioned speed, Dhaunmyr would insist it was to do with his outfit. Mankiller in a very different sense. It was dim enough to see, and in the dim, Dhaunmyr could really, really see. “After you, then.” Challenge all he wanted, but Dhaunmyr would catch up eventually.
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