faderift | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Byerly & Vanadi
WHAT: The Morning After
WHEN: Backdated to Sonia's party
WHERE: Byerly's I think??
NOTES: it's post-sexy so whatever content warnings might be associated with that

[ It's been easy to fall into old habits, and it grows easier the longer he's in this world. Last night had been a dive straight back into them, all pleasant flirts, courtly dances, and good company. And then all the rest. Oh, it'd been good to lose himself for a while, to really appreciate another body in a way he hasn't in a while ...

... But he can't let go of all of his recent habits, and a keen discomfort sleeping next to a stranger is one of them. It's been a fitful and restless night, and just as the sun rises he decides he's willing to eschew manners and throw in the towel. He'll catch up with the man later, and make whatever apologies are necessary.

Vanadi sits himself up carefully, not quite willing to unduly disturb the form next to him. The man had been lovely company, there's no need to rouse him so early as this. He peels back the sheets, intending to collect his belongings, dress in the almost-dark, and see himself out. ]

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Hmm.

[ Why the reluctance? It's interesting. ]

Very well. I think I've studied Captain Flint long enough to have the knack of it.

[ Right, whoever that is. One of the many people he should know about, probably. ]

Well then, I'm excited to see you in action, Captain Rutyer.

[ By sketches a mock-salute in response.

The ferry docks a ways from the Gallows' courtyard. They have to cross the space to get there. It's a nasty place, the courtyard - this was where, once, slaves were tortured, executed publicly, their bodies displayed to drive out all thoughts of rebellion from the others. There are remnants of that history - some lingering statues depicting the torments of the slaves (many of them prominently, obviously elven), places where gibbets once hung. It's a haunted-feeling place, though at least the first rays of dawn turn an atmosphere that might be menacing into something simply melancholy.

By hardly seems to notice the weirdness of the place. He's been living here two years, after all; everything becomes normal after a while. ]

So what sort of breakfast catches your fancy?

[ Vanadi has noticed these things, of course — more evidence that he's really quite far from home. He pays no mind to them this morning, which he's decided is generally the best way to handle such things. ]

Oh, I'm an easy please. A bit of fruit, a piece of toast, an egg or three ... and what does it for you?

A few fingers of whiskey, typically.

[ His smile is cheery. ]

[ That earns Byerly a disgruntled look, transferred out to the world at large. Really, what an insult to breakfasts everywhere. He slows a little, reluctance suddenly entering his step, then sighs. ]

Maybe you had better show me to a kitchen.

[ A lifted eyebrow; his head swings round. ]

What? Why the change of heart?

[ He slows to a stop, eying By with a stiff irritation that really doesn't match an offer to make breakfast. ]

You clearly don't appreciate the meal, and so I can only assume no one here makes it correctly.

[ The eyebrow lifts further. He stops as well. ]

What a gracious offer, my dear.

[ Why the crankiness? ]

[ He studies him for a few more tight-lipped seconds, knowing perfectly well the prickly reluctance is ridiculous. It keeps up regardless. ]

Lead the way.

[ He doesn't quite yet. ]

Breakfast means quite a lot to you, it seems.

[ He shrugs, but runs a nervous hand through his hair. ]

I enjoy cooking, and have picked up a few opinions about it.

Well, I am an omnivore, of sorts. I'm sure that whatever it is, it shall delight me.

[ Not much mockery there. He seems quite sincere. ]

It will if I can find half of any familiar ingredients. I'm quite good. [ It sounds matter of fact, not boastful. ]

[ Well...Byerly isn't one to turn down a free breakfast, even if he doesn't fully understand what led to it being offered. So, a shrug, and then he turns and leads the fellow back the way they came. ]

A chef, then, are you?

[ He nods, but — seeing as Byerly has taken the lead and Vanadi is more than happy to leave it with him as he trails after, adds: ]

By hobby, not profession.

What is your profession?

[ ugh, don't ask that. He watches the stones in the wall ahead of them with determined placidity. ]

I suppose I'm a Scout, and all of whatever that entails.

[ Oh, come now. ]

Back where you were before.

Mercenary.

[ It sounds more like a guess than an answer. ]

You sound uncertain.

[ An irritated huff. ]

Because whatever keeps me fed is an ungainly answer, if perhaps more accurate. [ a beat, then a correction: ] Kept.

Hm.

[ His voice is light, nonjudgmental. ]

Unusual priority for a fellow of your birth, no?

[ There's a silence, then a small sound as if the start of a sentence — then back to silence again. A refusal to answer seems abhorrently rude, but when you're out of evasions ...

He fiercely misses empty pleasure of the previous evening. ]

[ Hm. Curious. ]

Not embarrassed, I hope.