so show me family; all the blood that i will bleed

[deadelfwalking]

Date & Time: 11/1; evening
Location: Bariyan's apt
Characters: Koltira Deathweaver (deadelfwalking); Bariyan e Kodhi (stonefaith); Martin Darkov (theguideless)
Summary: Koltira visits. Ensures that Martin gets a decent meal. Possibly dons an apron.
Warnings: Dead men being domestic



[Despite everything, Koltira can't help but feel some apprehension as he approaches Bariyan's apartment. It's difficult to tell where he stands with the other man on any given day, though his feelings have hardly changed since his first week in the city. Bariyan is his friend, and Koltira's choices with respect to him have always been in service of that. He also owes an impossible debt to Martin, now, for showing him who he truly was, and could be. They are both important to him. But what is he, other than an interloper?

Still, he wants to see them. So, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand, he stops in front of Bariyan's door and knocks. As he waits, he traces the new, slowly fading scars on his face, left by the tears he had shed on the battlefield.]

Comments

[stonefaith]

[ seeing as Koltira's apparently run out of things for them to do, Bariyan takes a few steps around the counter and goes straight back to the still-open bottle of vodka to pour himself out another drink. ]

What happened to him, then?

[ Koltira was speaking in the past tense. Something had happened, and Bariyan thinks he can guess at the general gist of it.

In the meantime, if it's a corkscrew that Koltira's looking for, he might be searching for a while. The last person in this apartment to use it had been -- unsurprisingly -- Bariyan, and he hadn't put it back in its proper place. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[everything is baking/sizzling/steaming/otherwise cooking now. It won't be long, but in the meantime, Koltira keeps looking for that corkscrew. Finally, he sighs and gives up. He can use his bare hands. Like a man.]

He died during the invasion. He ran forward, recklessly, into battle.

[Koltira picks up the wine bottle, digs his nails into the soft wood of the cork. His voice is even, restrained.]

I tried to protect him. But I failed.

[He taps the bottle against the counter several times, using a precise and carefully controlled amount of force. Then, with a twist of his fingers, he pops out the cork. Koltira sets the opened bottle down as the oven beeps.]

I don't suppose either one of you could direct me to the plates.

[theguideless]

[Martin's smile is a little strained, feeling inklings of assurances that, to him, feel out-of-place in the moment.

to counteract that, he pushes away from his temporary perch and moves around the both of them, standing on tip-toe to fish out the plates as asked, jumping a little at the cork pop – but it's nothing more than a little dinnerware rattle.]

Where do you want them?

[stonefaith]

[ Right. Dead. As Bariyan had figured. Bariyan leaves it at that; there's little else to say, and anything he could say was, in his mind, already known. I'm sorry.

Martin starts moving before Bariyan's even fully processed Koltira's request, so he shrugs and lets the boy handle it. Bariyan instead turns to look at the oven, a little anxiously. Is it supposed... to make noises....

He takes a drink. It occurs to him that he ought to stop staring at the oven and make himself useful. He finally puts his glass down and moves to the other side of the counter, trying to remember what else is involved with dinner. Silverware...? He pulls open a drawer and starts to count out-- wait.

Bariyan spends a few moments wondering hard about zombie biology. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[He interprets their collective silence badly, and feels keenly awkward as he turns off the stove, the oven, and so forth. Everything is finished now; all that remains is to plate it.

Perhaps this is his cue to go.]

Just on the counter there.

[he gestures to the creamy potatoes, the well-seasoned steak, and the lightly browned asparagus. A balanced meal for a growing boy.]

Take whatever you like now, and save the rest for later.

[he goes to pick up Byfrost.]

[theguideless]

[oh no this is –

Martin's got to pry his attention off overwhelmingly delicious smells to Koltira moving too close to the –]

Wait. [he pushes away from the counter and all that goodness.] Are you leaving? [:(] You have to go somewhere?

[stonefaith]

[ All right, well, that seems to render the biology questions moot. Bariyan grabs a knife and fork and makes his way to Martin, pressing the silverware into the boy's hands. But he keeps his eye fixed on Koltira, watches him pick up the sword... has it always glowed like that?

Bariyan leans back against the counter, and crosses his arms. ]

You're welcome to stay, if you'd like. [ Just following up on Martin's statements, extending the offer. As is probably polite. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Indeed, it has not always glowed like that. The black miasma crawling up and down the sword's blade leaps and arcs over the hilt as Koltira takes hold of it, swirling around his fingers for a moment before settling. He returns the sword to his back, and then bows his head slightly, his eyes moving from Martin's anxious face to Bariyan's crossed arms. His welcome is done, he thinks.]

It's time for me to go. [he turns, lifts a hand in farewell.] Eat as much as you can, Martin. And the both of you--take care.

[theguideless]

[after that sword's been secured, Martin's grip on the silverware slacks, and he presses them on the counter before trotting over the small distance to the elf, reaching out and grabbing at sleeve/gauntlet/glove??/ARTICLE OF FOREARM-BASED CLOTHING ON AN ELF to tug it.]

You'll come back, right? You'll come again. And show me how to do the rest? So it's not just cutting potato skins...

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan stays right where he is, unmoving, unblinking. It seems like an abrupt departure... an abrupt departure to go with an almost equally abrupt arrival.

But Bariyan finds none of it strange. He figures that Koltira just has something else to do, perhaps. Other appointments to keep. Or maybe he's just tired of his time here -- fair enough.

So Bariyan merely nods, in acknowledgement. And: ]

Thank you.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira's in his suit, wearing leather gloves. Because of their insulation, he lightly covers Martin's hand with his own, though only for a few seconds. He murmurs.]

Perhaps, child. [this, of course, being code for 'no'. He glances at Bariyan and nods stiffly in return. Again, everything is taken wrongly; badly. He is an interloper here, and he has intruded long enough. The task he set himself has been accomplished; he need not impose upon these two any longer. What little words they exchanged had been stilted, halting. It translates to discomfort and reticence to Koltira's mind, and he's hardly surprised by it. He's rarely experienced otherwise, after all.

Gently, Koltira pulls away from Martin. He opens the door and steps back out into the hallway. Truth be told, Koltira has no particular agenda, and nowhere really to go. He just knows he shouldn't be here.

And so he leaves.]