faderift | [Closed] ...You walk the streets trying to remember

WHO: Adasse, Cyril, and Sorrel
WHAT: Three elves go out for fun and run into trouble, Adasse style.
WHEN: The very last day of Firstfall
WHERE: The Blooming Rose, Kirkwall
NOTES: Warnings for violence (probably), racial slurs (definitely), and general mischief and mayhem.

In all honesty, Adasse had not planned for this at all. In fact, the words out of Beleth's mouth were quite clear to all the Scouts before she left for Nevarra. 'Don't Cause Trouble'. He hadn't, either! He minded his own business. He trained with Kit. He trained by himself. He teased Sorrel, he spent 'quality time' with Cyril. He and Haelan got themselves into the proper amount of drinking and playing cards with the other scouts.

He was not expecting things to take an abrupt turn when he invited Sorrel and Cyril out into the city to drink at an 'elf-bar'. He wanted to show Sorrel a little more about city culture, and Cyril? Well Cyril would get them all the free drinks they required to really break down the walls of civility and end up snickering into their mugs.

First though, he had an errand to run in Hightown, and it seemed like this was going to just be a blip for a fun night with two of his newest friends. They were up at the Blooming Rose, which Adasse knew was fine for elves, and he chatted up with the madame, making sure Cyril and Sorrel were paid up at the bar before he went to go see the person he was dropping off the 'merchandise for in the back rooms.

Seriously, how could he have known what would happen in the ten minutes he was gone?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Five minutes ago, Sorrel had represented, by some cruel twist of the cosmos, The Responsible One. Someone had to be, after all. He was just... he was only curious, after all. An elf bar, he'd been told. As if Sorrel was meant to know what that was-- and anyways, after so many consecutive days in the same four walls, he...

he...

...

He wanted to get drunk. But he wasn't. He was being Responsible and good. Until Cyril handed him the drink, and then the second drink. And then... Are people just buying drinks for you, Cyril?

He can see that they are.

There's that old jealous surge, when Sorrel realizes why. They are buying drinks for Cyril as gifts, as enticement, because Cyril is experienced and available and pretty and Sorrel is... None of those things. But he does have a drink in his hand. So he drinks it.

"It tastes like... fruit?" Something too sweet and at the same time too sour. But pink, somehow. Can a flavor be pink? Sorrel tries it again, as if to test this concept. If the color pink had a flavor, this would be that drink, though it is not pink to look at, "I like this drink."

He is going to drink more of it.

That, of course, was five minutes ago.

The last time he had come to the Rose had been with Sam, and the experience had mostly been pleasant except for the drunk who had taken them talking about the Inquisition has an invitation to share his negative opinion of it. That man was no where to be seen, though, and instead he was with two beautiful elves who both had eyes he could get lost in.

He was careful not to take too much attention. He didn't want to disturb the workers in the Rose, but he did like the idea that he could rile up someone so they would be a bit more loose with their gold.

That and he wanted Sorrel to have fun. He deserved to relax and have fun. There was just so much going on with him right now. Cyril had secured Sorrel and Adasse both drinks, though he himself was nursing just one very weak drink. Once he was sure they would have a good time, he settled next to Sorrel and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you like it. I tried it the last time I was here. It's extremely tasty." Then he chuckled softly and added, "Just like each of us are."

"I'll be glad to get you both more." The human noble said eagerly at their side, before going to get them both more drinks. Honestly, one could not be sure if the young noble thought they were part of the establishment or just could Not Resist the pull of someone as beautiful as Cyril, or with such eyes like Sorrel.

The madam is arching an eyebrow behind them, giving them both a long look that states, 'They aren't trying to pay you, are they?'

Edited 2017-12-01 18:24 (UTC)

Cyril wants to have fun, Adasse wants to buy drinks, or... or have drinks bought?

Sorrel is in agreement with both these plans; he wants to drink the drinks. And having done so with one already, he will continue. This is in nowise a clever plan, or indeed any plan at all. What this is, is the physical embodiment of fuck it, but with a smile on its face.

"Why did we come here? I'm alright, is all, I'm not...," He waves a hand, genial, but unsure. Surely they didn't come here for the Rose's Roses. Even were he willing to disgrace Sina like that, Nari would fucking skin him, "...Complaining. But I don't think this is. Exactly what I thought."

There you go, now. That's clear as day, isn't it? He doesn't think it's what he thought. Everyone can understand that one.

"That this was the plan, I mean."

"Do you mean because of the nice working folk or because the men are so distracting?" Cyril asked as he sipped very gently at his drink. He liked seeing Sorrel relax a bit. And he liked just being with Adasse in general.

"We could always move the party somewhere else if you'd be more comfortable?"

And that is the noble returning, with two more drinks, simpering over at Cyril. "There you are. And I ... I just want to tell you that you are both, ah, very ... you look invigorated with life, and other things, so talking to you, would be invigorating. I think that we could, ah, go somewhere and have .... invigorating conversations where we are going outside and not here, and such things?"

The nobleman pauses, "Uhm - I don't have to pay for invigorating conversation?"

Sorrel considers this line of conversation with a weather eye. Or... a narrowed eye? He's squinting, is what he's doing. He decides to drink the rest of his drink, never once easing away from the white-hot judgemental attitude he's trying to exude from his eyeballs.

"Cyril, please tell me a lie," He asks, in a tone that has no question in it, "Like, Sorrel I didn't invite you out so you could get propositioned in a whore-house."

All due respect to the Rose, of course, but it was what it was, usually without shame. Normally, Sorrel might find this funny. Right now, Sorrel finds it merely... exhausting.

"Just tell me this thing. I need to believe it's true."

Cyril raises his brow and at the nobleman and then he considers Sorrel. After a moment, he can't help it, he laughs. The sound is very gentle though, more amusement at the situation than at anyone's expense. It's more charming and lively than cruel.

"I'm afraid I'm fully engaged with these two fine gentlemen this evening," he wraps his arm around Sorrel then, and gestures to Adasse. Maybe he honestly can't help but use any excuse to touch Sorrel. "But I'm certain any of the employees would love to engage you with conversation or anything else you desire." He doesn't add that they most certainly would be charging.

"And Sorrel, my friend, I didn't invite you at all remember? This was Adasse's idea. I only jumped at the chance to spend time with you. As I always will."

And Cyril's gesture is well-timed, because here comes the man himself. Adasse is sauntering back from one of the Roses rooms, a small bag of coins being tossed in the air. He waggles his fingers back at the lovely lady, who blows a kiss to him, and then focuses on the bar once more.

Where ... it sort of looked like they were getting propositioned because the Madame looked downright sullen. He slipped through the crowd, curving around so he came up behind Sorrel and Cyril, putting one hand on either of their shoulders and poking his head between theirs.

"Hello, lads, ready to be off? I'm ready for some good wine and good company - Oh Hello." He bats his eyelashes at the nobleman, who flushes brightly and offers Adasse a drink weakly. "Don't mind if I do."

He takes the mug, drains it in one go, and then gently turns Sorrel and Cyril towards the door. "Thanks there, pretty boy. Sorry, I don't pay for it though."

And now he's guiding them towards the entrance a little more quickly, keeping his voice low, "Pret-ty sure I want to be out of here when he catches up with that insult compliment. Hello beautiful and hello handsome. Next round is on me too."

"It's Adasse's fault," Sorrel agrees, and then when Adasse returns he repeats it for posterity, "It's your fault."

So long as it isn't Sorrel's, you see. Tonight is not a night for taking responsibility for your actions, tonight is a night for the other thing. Not-responsibility. If only there was a word for it.

"Well, I don't really get paid," He doesn't resist being led away, of course, partly out of distraction and partly because he doesn't want to stay. And, of course, since the next round is on him, "So I forgive you."

[Closed] ...You walk the streets trying to remember

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject