cuz though the truth may vary...

[healplz]

Date & Time: Forward dated to the 15th, evening
Location: Koltira's lake
Characters: Koltira & Ashraf
Summary: so a priest and a zombie start drinking together...
Warnings: PROBABLY NOT

[ Ashraf warps himself to the lake within five minutes of ending the call with Koltira, a bottle of scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other. He doesn't intend to drink very much, but... enough to relax. It's been a trying week and a half— nearly two weeks, really.

Just thinking of it makes him sigh. He starts toward the skeleton of the half-constructed cabin at the side of the lake, glancing around for Koltira. For once, he's moving at normal speeds, without his almost constant spell of agility. ]

Comments

[healplz]

I will, although I seem to remember that as a knight's job.

[ And after pausing to scoop up his glass, he starts forward! Toward the standing skeleton of the cabin, actually. It looks like as good a thing to drunkenly examine as any. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[mildly.] But is it a death knight's job?

[He follows after Ashraf, shaking his head. The skeleton is just that--a collection of wooden beams that form the vague shape of a three-room cabin, standing on a basic foundation. Larger pieces of wood, some with intricate carvings, are scattered here and there. Some nicely woven packs are piled in one corner of the front 'room'.]

[healplz]

[ If he even hears that, he's too focused on being determined to move without tripping to answer. He's at one of those carved pieces of wood before he even properly looks up, and finds himself studying it admiringly. ]

You carved this? [ He may be shit at creative things himself, but at least he can appreciate them. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[the design loops and swirls in a complex, abstractly floral pattern, like a stylized impression of leaves and petals. He shrugs at it.]

Yes. It is a common motif of the high elves.

[healplz]

[ Boy, don't you just shrug at that impressive crap. Ashraf frowns, glancing back again to Koltira. ]

Can you play music?

[deadelfwalking]

[begrudgingly.] I can, but it has been many years.

[healplz]

[ FROWNING MORE ] Can you paint?

[deadelfwalking]

Why are you asking me these things? [Ashraf is reminding him too much of his life, his actual life, where he was happy and breathing and playing the pan pipes at banquets every other night.]

[healplz]

I only want to be sure you can't do everything. It's beginning to seem like it.

[ But here he... loses a little of the mocking displeasure he'd had going and looks a little unsure, because oops, was that actually too personal? He's new to etiquette around dead guys... ]

[deadelfwalking]

My race is long-lived, Ashraf. We were at the height of our prosperity when I was alive, and we have always been dedicated to the finer pursuits. I had a great deal of time to learn whatever I cared to.

[had. had. He stares down at the carving, muttering.] It is a miracle that I recall it all, I suppose.

[healplz]

[ Oh noooo enjoy this look of guilt, Koltira!! He shifts uneasily, dropping his eyes back to the carving again. ]

Forgive me. That was unthinking of me.

[deadelfwalking]

[oh lawd not with the face.] Forget about it. [he nudges the carved piece away with his foot.] And this, too. Such things no longer matter.

[healplz]

[ There's something about the dismissal of a beautiful thing that just totally doesn't jive with him, but unfortunately, eloquence is a thing of sobriety. So he only pauses, tries a small smile, and glances up again at Koltira. ]

It will look wonderful when it's completed.

[deadelfwalking]

I'm hoping for 'serviceable'. [but if that were entirely true, he wouldn't be bothering with all the extra work, and even he can't deny that.] ... but the high elf style of architecture is all I know.

[healplz]

In that case, it makes me wish all the more I could one day see your home.

[ He leans against one of the standing beams, arms folding over his chest. All of this talk about Koltira, and Koltira's home, and he's hardly given more of himself than a passing mention of city names. That's probably some kind of rude somewhere.

After a moment: ] The architecture of Morroc was nothing spectacular, but beautiful in its way.

[deadelfwalking]

[yeah. YEAH!! Enough about him. Let's talk about you, Ashraf.]

Oh? Tell me of your homeland.

[healplz]

It was... [ Frownin, trying to think of something... nice to say about it... ] ...Dusty. Morroc sits in the middle of the Sograt Desert, and the buildings are all stone, and build low to the ground.

[ ...aaannnd he's out of nice things. He glances at Koltira a little guiltily. ]

I left it early, I'm afraid my fond memories are somewhat lacking.

[deadelfwalking]

[hands over the bottle he's carrying. Go on.]

Why did you leave?

[healplz]

[ He eyes that bottle, mildly wondering if Koltira is trying to kill him with alcohol, but takes it. ]

I left for Prontera. [ A small swig, and a distant smile. ] The priests came from Prontera, and the thieves from Morroc. It was clear to me that I was in the wrong city.

[deadelfwalking]

[not kill. maybe incapacitate.]

So, this Prontera--you consider that to be your home? Speak to it, then.

[healplz]

[ Well he's well on his way to incapacitated. Koltira, are you ready to lug an unconscious priest around. BUT FOR NOW he sets the bottle down, the better to gesture as he speaks. ]

Prontera is— truly beautiful. It is the largest city of Rune-Midgard, with buildings taller than anywhere else. The streets are wide as houses, and fifteen merchants might easily set their shops shoulder to shoulder across each one. And do, sometimes! And above it all the Prontera Castle guards the north gate, with King Tristan and his guard within.

[ He realizes he'd been tracing a map against one of the beams, and stops, a little embarrassed. Oops, maybe he misses it a little. ]