exsiliumlogs | Letters to God

Entry tags:

Letters to God

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.]

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That sounds like him.

[He looks over at Ashraf, and meets his eyes for a moment. Were his like that? He wasn't sure. Perhaps they were, too. Creepy? ...perhaps. Only a handful had mentioned it, but he did try to keep himself to using text communication where he could. His eyes, his voice, they spoke that he was something other.

He looks back down at the sidewalk.]

[ He frowns when Thassarian looks away. That hadn't been the point of that story, it was supposed to be amusing. He stops walking, standing straight, and leaving Thass to stop as well, or — well, or bowl him over, realistically. ]

I like it, though.

[With that, he does turn to look back at him, a bit surprised. He furrows his brows slightly.]

You do?

Yeah. [ He smiles widely, about to add more — which is when his ruwach spell fizzles out and leaves them in the dark. His smile turns into a frown, a disappointed— ] Oh.

[ Which is also when footsteps sound from both ends of the block they're on. It's late enough and far enough from the Housing that two men alone look like decent targets to the more desperate part of the populace, apparently. For his part, Ashraf seems oblivious, distracted by his faded spell. ]

[He was thankful he had his swords on him, but he couldn't unsheathe them with Ashraf's arm across his shoulders, but he hears the footsteps, and can just barely make out dark-clothed figures.

His blood goes gold, his skin more icy to the touch, as he pulls at the endless winter that was under his skin. the rain around him freezes in the air, drifting down in wet almost-snow.

He had really been hoping that nothing would go wrong tonight.]

Keep moving. We'll get you home soon.

[ He might not notice an unobtrusive thing like shifty dudes being shifty, but he definitely notices that cold. It's a little sobering, and he holds out a free hand to catch one of those almost-snows. Whoa. ]

Oh, good, so you aren't leaving me to sleep in the streets...

[ Ruwach is murmured under his breath, and the light springs back into existence — at precisely the right time to illuminate a hard, set face just ahead of them, hovering above the cold metal of a pistol's barrel aimed at them both. Not exactly the newest technology around, but it gets the job done. Ashraf blinks. ]

Oh.

Not toni-

[He stops. Well, he couldn't say he didn't exactly expect it, but still.

He stops, and goes very still, not even moving for the effect of looking alive. He meets the eyes in that face.]

I'll give you a chance to walk away before you make a mistake you'll regret.

[He shrugs Ashraf's arm off of his shoulder. Something dark and deadly practical in him knows it would only be a brief moment to draw a sword and slice the hand off.

But he'll give him a chance.]

[ Ashraf still isn't quite sure what to do with all this, but he's become aware of that second set of footsteps nearing from behind. He glances back over his shoulder to frown in bemusement. The light of his ruwach doesn't quite pick up the second man, but he doesn't doubt this is a two-man act. ]

Thass...

[ It's mumbled, distracted, and the man ahead cocks his gun. "Fucking foreigners." The man spits. "Hand over the marques. Now." ]

[It would be simple to just kill the man, something tells him. He moves slightly, and then.

It's very, very cold. A violent torrent of ice and frozen air around them, pushing them both back and hopefully off of their feet. He draws his swords, looking behind him for a moment, just to see, yes, there's someone else there.

Very well.]

[ Both men fly back, one catching his feet and the other landing in a sprawl, and Ashraf is at Thassarian's side in the next second. ]

Thassarian, sheathe your weapons. [ Any trace of alcohol is gone, and his eyes are locked onto the Death Knight. The muffled cursing behind him goes ignored, as the two struggle to recover themselves. ]

[He eyes Ashraf for a long moment, and then does so, both swords on his back again, but he wasn't fond of the idea.

Never let it be said that he couldn't take an order.

The fight is all the has, sometimes, and it's strange to give that up, but he would do as he was told.

He was, after all, a follower, he thought, almost bitterly remembering someone telling him as much.]

Edited 2013-05-16 05:43 (UTC)

[ The intensity of his gaze on Thassarian eases as his swords disappear, but he doesn't quite smile. ]

Thank you.

[ He steps forward, with even the unsteadiness of his steps gone, one hand outstretched toward the man in front, who has climbed halfway back to his feet with the help of a wall. ]

I'm sorry about that, here, let— [ He's interrupted by a shot, and he stumbles forward a step in surprise as a bullet tears through his side. It's from the man behind, who had found his footing more immediately. Hey, never let it be said muggers don't look out for each other, right? ]

Edited 2013-05-16 05:58 (UTC)

Ashraf!

[He wants to draw his swords, but he can't, and he won't. Instead, he lets the cold seep around him, forcing the warmth out of the very ground.

The rain, the water covering the clothes of the attackers, freezes, and ice forms on top of that. They can breathe, but it's hard to shoot a gun entombed in ice. They won't be going anywhere soon, not with their feet chained to the ground with ice.

At least, Thassarian hopes.

He steps forward, ignoring the screaming and cursing being directed at him by their muggers. He reaches out for the priest, patting his shoulders gingerly.]

Ashraf, are you...are you alright?

[ His eyes had gone wide again at the formation of ice, but — well, that's not so bad. It's not deadly, like he'd first feared. They look immobilized, but unharmed. So he relaxes again, takes a breath, and smiles at Thassarian. ]

I'm fine. [ He waves a hand, and a brief glow of green light around his body heals the wound completely. It doesn't do much for the tear in or blood on his robes, but he'll deal with that later. With a pat for Thassarian's forearm, he steps around him and to the nearest of the frozen men. ]

I'm sorry. My friend will release you soon, I just wanted to talk to you first.

[ Smiling warmly, like he hadn't just been shot by this guy, he steps closer still, lowers his voice, and pretty much just seems to be holding a discussion over here. The responses he gets are low and guttural at first, but subside into grudging mutters, and finally quiet replies. In a few moments Ashraf leaves him and heads to the other man, leaving the first looking confused and uncomfortable, but not hostile. ]

[He folds his arms across his chest, watching Ashraf intently, and, more importantly, watching the two men as he speaks to them in turn.

It was fortunate that Ashraf wasn't seriously hurt, but he understood well enough that his usual, almost instinctual, tactics would have been frowned upon.

He appreciates the living, as much as any Death Knight can. But that didn't change that he was meant to kill, and that he values the lives of those close to him more than those of people who tried to harm them.

But, well, if Ashraf was okay and wanted to forgive, then he couldn't fault him for that.

So he watches, closely, making sure they don't do anything stupid. But if Ashraf wants to go and talk to them, that's fine. He'll just be looming a little.]

[ It's a repeat performance with the second man, with about the same results. Ashraf is smiling when he finally steps away again, looking back to Thassarian. ]

You can let them go.

[ And even as he says it he's reaching for his wallet, pulling out... pretty much everything that hadn't gone to the bar. ]

Very well.

[He steps toward one of them, though he doesn't need to, and looks down at the mugger. His eyes are wide, a bit afraid, and something in Thassarian feels...pleased. Another part feels differently, regretful, perhaps, that the living fear him.

Perhaps it's just as well. Another reminder that maybe he doesn't belong among them.

A gesture, and the ice melts away. The air around him regains a bit of warmth, and the forces the ice from himself as best he can.

He turns, without a word, and steps to the other mugger, who recoils from him slightly. A wave of Thassarian's hand, and he is freed, as well. Thassarian gives him one last look before stepping back to Ashraf's side.

He watches him pulling out money, and hesitates for a moment. He was never much one for charity, never having much to give, but he understood mercy better than that. Mercy had been shown.

But he could follow an example.

He pulls out his own wallet- a bit of carrying money on him, but not much, and presses a few marques into Ashraf's hands without a word.]

[ Ashraf smiles widely at him, pleased for the contribution, and presses the money into the hand of one of the nearer men. ]

You only had to ask. [ He says it with a grin, like it was just some big, hilarious misunderstanding. ] Go home and put your guns away— they're useless against a lot of us, and they'll probably get you hurt.

[ The two are backing away, unsure. One breaks and runs, and the other follows shortly after. As soon as they're out of sight, Ashraf's smile is back on Thassarian again. ]

Thank you for the restraint.

[He nods, looking over Ashraf and peering at the blood on his robes, and frowns slightly.]

They meant to kill you.

[He places a hand on Ashraf's shoulder, meeting his eyes for a moment, and then nods.]

Glad to see you're alright, then.

[ That gets an outright laugh, maybe too amused than the situation really calls for, and he rests a hand companionably over that cold one. With the moment passed, alcohol is sinking in again. ]

Maybe. But they wouldn't have had a very easy time of it! Mmm... [ Still smiling, he looks down at himself. ] It's too bad about the robes, though.

[He can distantly feel Ashraf's hand over his- his sense of touch a bit dulled, and not just from the alcohol. He could see, he could hear, both keenly as in life, but other senses were almost blunted in places.

Perhaps, too, were his own emotions.]

That's two sets of robes you've ruined. We'll have to get you in touch with a tailor.

Can you walk okay?

Can I walk okay.

[ He scoffs -- not without amusement -- and pulls away from Thassarian. He begins to go through the steps of his holy spells with a small barrage of gentle glowing and the occasional distant chime of bells. He stands a little straighter afterward, still smiling. ]

You ask that like I've never been drunk a night in my life. Well, young man, I think I know what I'm doing.

[He looks away as Ashraf is doing his thing because honestly it's a little like staring into the sun and hurts a little.

Thassarian chuckles. ASHRAF, U JUST GOT SHOT HE WAS ONLY BEING CONCERNED.]

Good, then I don't have to carry you home.

Oh. [ He frowns, thoughtful. ] Is that option completely out? It sounds nice. I could fake some stumbling, maybe.

[A laugh, and he claps him on the back.]

Whatever it takes to get you home.

[A gesture- he's had just enough to drink. He holds out one arm, and puts his other around Ashraf's shoulders. He'd give someone the shirt off his back- this isn't a big deal.

SWING ON UP IN2 MY ARMS, BEARDY ONE.]

Come on, then.

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