Letters to God

[obliterating]

Date & Time: 5/9, 7PM-ish until PROBABLY LATE
Location: A BAR
Characters: Ashraf and Thass AND BARIYAN gets his own thread
Summary: Stop me if you've heard this one.  Two undead guys and a priest walk into a bar...  DRINKS. TALKIN ABOUT THE LIGHT AND PEOPLE AND STUFF.  BARIYAN AND THASS ARE GONNA HUG IT OUT maybe idk man don't look at me like that
Warnings: Mentions of death? I dunno!

[He made an effort to be punctual- to be honest, he liked having a schedule. He didn't like having nothing to do, his mind rarely wandered kind places, and not having a mission was unfamiliar. Even during the time between the Lich King's fall and his assignment to Andorhal, he could fill his days thinning the ranks of the undead that infested the Plaguelands.

But now...he didn't even have that.

Instead, he was turning his mind to the project of his farm. Though he had no intent of growing anything- if anything living could be grown by these hands, he added, bitterly- it was good to have a project. He had every intent of going back there, today, but Asraf's request to meet in the evening had given him an excuse to spend more time around the city.

So here he was, sitting in the same bar that he had met Bariyan, and ordering an ale for himself as he sat at the bar in his new clothes and with his swords sheathed on his back.]

Comments

[obliterating]

As far as I know, yes.

[He looks down at his drink.]

Knowing him, he'd think it was better if we just left him. If I didn't have orders, I'd have stormed the place myself to bring him back.

[Always a follower. But, beyond that, is loyalty.]

[highhealplz]

[ There's a few more seconds of consideration — and a sigh. ]

Of course he would.

[ He downs the rest of his drink in one go, setting it down on the bartop and signaling for another. ]

Well, thank you for telling me. [ because now he has something he can't help to be uselessly sad over, so that's cool. but better to know! ]

[obliterating]

[He makes a small sound, downing the rest of his drink, and signals for a refill, as well.]

I take it I'm buying the second round, too?

[A slight smirk.]

[highhealplz]

[ He returns the smirk, but then waves it off with a shake of his head. ]

No, I'll cover this one — for a trade. I'd like to know more about you.

[obliterating]

Me?

[ :|a ]

Well...I grew up in Lordaeron. My father was a war hero, but he died when I was a boy. My family had a farm. I lived with my...my mother. And my sister, Leryssa.

[AWKWARD CITY.]

I was a soldier, but it was largely a time of peace. I'd tend to the animals, mostly.

That was a long time ago.

[highhealplz]

[ That's a good start. Ashraf pushes his marques across the counter as the bartender refills their drinks, apparently accepting Thassarian's half of the trade. ]

You wouldn't have struck me as a farmer. [ He smiles over. ] Only God knows why, you certainly have the beard for it. How long ago was that?

[obliterating]

[How long ago WAS it? He couldn't remember exactly how meany years had passed- time spend in the Scourge was muddy to him, and he furrowed his brows.]

Seven years, if I recall correctly.

I was a soldier, as well, but it was mostly a time of peace. Can't make a career as a fighter when there's nothing to fight.

[highhealplz]

[ Seven years. He shoots a quick glance over to gauge age, but it's not easy with the whole death thing. ]

I guess you could try. [ A grin, of fond memory. ] In Rune-Midgard, guilds like to compete twice a week for the right to hold a castle and its dungeons. It gets pretty violent. I'm not sure if you'd call that a career, but some people seem to treat it like one.

[obliterating]

[Geffen castle for OVBs or GTFO

He laughs.]

We have guilds in my home, as well, but they generally compete to see who can delve further into a dungeon faster.

[highhealplz]

That sounds a little... healthier. [ That with a laugh, but he waves it off. ]

What about your family, then? Were you close?

[obliterating]

[At that, he falters, and takes a drink.]

We...were, yes. I lived with my mother and sister until my death.

[And after that...

Vivian.

He can barely bring himself to speak her name, and even the thought of her stirs nothing but cold sorrow within him. His mother, his dear mother.]

My sister is still living.

[highhealplz]

[ You know, maybe asking dead guys about their pasts isn't such a hot idea. ]

My condolences for your mother. [ He lifts his glass, a quiet salute. ] Mine has passed as well.

[obliterating]

[He pauses, and he almost speaks, confesses. He hadn't told anyone, not even Koltira, about Vivian's fate. It was something that hung over him, and though his father's spirit had told him to move forward, to atone, he couldn't forgive himself.

He can still remember her kicking against the ghouls that held her, screaming to him, weeping.

Begging for mercy.

Hesitation. He takes a drink, and then shrugs softly, as if it didn't weight on him. He wasn't in the habit of lying, but this, this was a deeper shame than anything else.

Perhaps another time.]

I'm sure she's with the Light now. Perhaps your mother, as well, if you believe in such a thing.

What of you? Do you have a family?

[highhealplz]

She is. They both are. [ He doesn't need to say it firmly to sound completely sure of it, and it's out with a small, peaceful smile. ]

I did. I had two younger brothers, a father I never saw much, and a mother. But I left home sixty years ago, and never saw them again.

[ Why did he ever consider families a good topic. He'll just be helping himself to a deeper drink of his mug, here. ]

[obliterating]

[This is not a good topic. Ashraf why

Another drink.]

Well, you're here now. And we can make do with what we've got.

[He smiles at him.]

No one should ever be alone, anyway. You've got me, so that's one person.

[highhealplz]

[ Half of his drink disappears in one go; he takes a breath, sets the mug down again, and grins back at him. ]

Well, then I'm probably set! [ And since he's now definitely starting to feel some of that alcohol: ] I remember that Koltira could drink me under a table without even trying. Was that... an elf thing, or a knight thing? [ Vaguely. Knight, Death Knight, same thing. ]

[obliterating]

[He laughs.]

Part of being undead, I think. Drinking's just not the same.

[highhealplz]

[ cheerfully: ] Well, then I entrust you with making sure I don't pass out in a gutter tonight, alright?

chinhands at this thread

[obliterating]

I'll drag you home, if I need to. I'll make sure to take your shoes off before dumping you in bed.

[He laughs and claps him on the back.]

clearly they'll never get along

[highhealplz]

[ Don't mind if he sways forward a little, that's just natural. ]

I knew I'd recognized you for a good friend. Will you even tell my roommates I'm only sleeping, not dead?

THE BEST gosh

[obliterating]

Of course.

[He finishes his drink and orders another, chuckling coldly at Ashraf.]

You're on your own about the hangover, though.

[highhealplz]

Maybe you missed it, Thassarian, but... [ god could he look any more smug right here ] I'm a high priest. I think I can handle a hangover.

[ famous last words. ]

[obliterating]

[A laugh. There's something like an echo of his former life there, teasing Leryssa.]

Perhaps you could turn your skills to others, as well, and make a name for yourself. High Priest Ashraf, Curer of Hangovers.

[highhealplz]

Now there's a way to go down in Exsilium's history. The rest of you might save them from a war, but I'll save them from themselves. [ A beat, as he considers that. ] Or from their drinks, at least.

i am the worst at threads the LITERAL WORST

[obliterating]

And you'd have every bit as much work for you as those of us fighting, my friend.