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Date & Time: July 9th, morning-ish
Location: Room 606
Characters: Artemis, Adrasteius, and Kirian
Summary: Some pointy-eared assholes have to live together.
Warnings: Potty mouths and yelling.

Artemis hadn't slept in four days. Not that he did a lot of that on an average given day; it was hardly something he needed in the first place. But it helped him relax and clear his mind, not to mention that it kept the days from blurring together, so he was in the habit of getting in a solid two hours per night. The first couple nights after his arrival had been fairly restless, and eventually he had just given up on trying.

First it was the constant, unignorable reminder deep in his bones that the environment of this world was polluted and corrupted beyond repair. And then came the dark murmurs in the back of his head-- as though he hadn't had enough of those already. He doubted that any dreams that might occur would be very pleasant even if he did manage to get some sleep.

Needless to say, he was a bit on-edge as he rifled about the kitchen, studying the contents of the refrigerator for what must have been the fifth time in the last hour, before settling for refilling a cup of coffee instead, before making his way to the nearest window to blankly stare out at the bleak cityscape.

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"Ah, not much different from my own world, then."

A smirk, and he blew on the cup of tea and took a sip. Ah, perfect.

"Though I'm not quite the adventuring sort, I know others who are. I'd rather not be a liability in a fight."

"At its base, I suppose not." He found himself shrugging once more. "But from my understanding of your world, our evil tends to be... quieter."

He gave the other man a considering look. "I take it you're referring to the limp."

"Yes."

He takes another drink.

"I have an...acquaintance. An adventurous sort. I'm not exactly like him. There are many things out there, and I'm neither skilled enough with offensive magic, nor quick enough to move away from something that might injure me."

And perhaps that's what Raziel understood, and why it was never mentioned between them that Kirian should join him. They both knew he'd be a liability.

He was quiet for a long moment, only giving a nod to acknowledge Kirian's words. He turned to dig through a cupboard, locating a package of biscuits and dipping one in his coffee.

"Would you, if you could?"

"I prefer not to bother myself with impossibilities."

How many times had he been jealous, felt useless? Raziel was off fighting at the temple, and Kirian did, what, exactly? Certainly, he has his work with the Sunreavers and Kirin Tor, but even that wasn't much. He could claim to have helped develop new magic, but he hadn't done much but research.

Artemis glanced down in the general direction of Kirian's leg for a moment, then returned his attention to his biscuit.

"You elves are an awfully delicate lot, aren't you..."

"Yes, terribly so. Unfortunate, that we're so delicate, isn't it? Perhaps if we weren't so frail, a great deal of us wouldn't have died."

His voice held warmth, or once, but it was more like a caustic burning than anything else.

"Certainly, if only we were hardier we could have stood up to an undead army that swarmed our lands and killed everything it could find. Ah, that must be it. I'll be certain to tell them when I return, that those children, that our families that died were merely delicate."

He glared at Artemis. His tea was starting to boil in the cup.

"Don't presume to know anything about me, or my people, or what we have faced. We've endured far more than many races of my world."

"I've heard the history lesson before."

If he had been in a better mood, he may have felt more guilty. He knew better than to prod at that particular subject with Koltira, and he was somewhat more likely to treat it with sensitivity when speaking to Adra.

But as it stood, he was not in a good mood. Demons whispering in his ear and the earth itself screaming at him since he had arrived were wearing on his already fragile self-control.

"Spare me the persecution complex. Every species, every world has its tragedies. You are in no position to presume that yours are the worst of all of them."

"That does not mean that it doesn't matter. You come to me and say that we're frail. You know nothing of our spirit."

He didn't lose everything to simply have some elf from another world come along and tell him that his suffering didn't mean everything. That his mother and father died and that he didn't have any reason to be angry for it, to feel sorrow for the land he had failed to protect.

"You know nothing of my world- you have no place presuming that we haven't suffered the worst on Azeroth."

He looked away, murmuring a curse under his breath in Thalassian.

"I'd suggest you save your breath next time if all you're going to do is insult the memories of the dead."

"You've chosen to read far more into my words than intended, mate."

His expression was rapidly shifting to one of annoyance. Like hell was he going to apologise for words he had not even said.

It was rare enough for him to apologise for things he actually did.

"You're testing my patience. I suggest you save your breath before I take it away for you."

He had a quick retort, but it was all but stolen from him. Kirian never took kindly to being threatened- not in this world, or any other. The air nearly hummed with magic- the temperature around him rising a few degrees.

"I think I would like to see you try."

And yet...he looked away.

"Are you always this foolish? To think, I have found someone who surpassed even Adrasteius."

Edited 2013-07-24 23:58 (UTC)

Those words were all he needed, given that his fuse had gradually been getting shorter with each hour he had spent back in this place. He grinned, though it was not pleasant. The oxygen left the room at a second's notice, as though the act came as naturally to Artemis as blinking.

He made a tasking sound at Kirian's words, apparently unbothered by the inability to breathe.

It was a strange pressure, and he knew something was wrong half a moment before he was unable to breathe. His right hand went instinctually to this throat, but there was no pressure there.

There were two things to do, and he had to decide quickly. Run, or stay and fight. He closed his eyes. He didn't dare waste what breath he had on a spell.

Which left one option.

His fingers found the catch in his cane, and in a quick movement, pulled the spellblade that was concealed in the shaft. It was a simple blade, but it glowed fiery colors (because Power Torrent ruins everything). He held it at the ready, raising a brow at Artemis.

Hopefully the other man would get the point.

Artemis' own sword was in his bedroom; he had not even dressed himself for the day, and was hardly going to put on his sword belt when he was in his pyjamas. Still, it was hard for him to feel threatened despite being unarmed. He took a long look at the blade, and then met Kirian's eyes and gave a raised eyebrow of his own. He knew full well exactly how asphyxiation affected the human body, and he did not imagine that the effect on elves would be much different.

"I wouldn't try that."

His head was starting to swim, and he sneered. Whatever this man was, he was no mere mage. He was dangerous, as well.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lungs burning, and his head started to swim. Spots danced in his sight, and the room almost started to move around him. His hand with the spellblade dropped, the dagger clattering to the floor, and Kirian nearly followed, trying to reach out to catch himself on something- even Artemis- as he fell.

Just like that, Artemis allowed the oxygen to return. He caught Kirian by the shoulder before he could hit the floor. His grip was almost excessively tight as he helped Kirian to stand upright.

Kirian had annoyed him, yes. But he had not forgotten all of his self-control.

He took in a deep gulp of air, gasping for breath at is hurt to fill his lungs again, and once he knew what was happening, he found his own balance and shoved Artemis away as best he could. It was a bit stronger a push than might have been expected- he wasn't entirely frail.

He said nothing, didn't need to say anything, merely gave Artemis the best glare he could manage as he held out his hand, his spellblade rising from the floor for him to grab.

Artemis took a step backward, reaching for his coffee mug to take another sip from it, then setting it down once more so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

"That was a warning," he stated.

"Noted."

His tone was clipped, and he sheathed his blade. His tea had stopped boiling and was now merely steaming in the cup, but he left it where it was and limped from the room.

What the fuck was with his roommates? He knew he was difficult to get along with- it was quite intentional, most of the time. Perhaps he'd have to take more care, here. In Azeroth, he could handle the Magisters well enough. But these people were largely unknown.

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