faderift | OPEN - You are broken and callow, cautious and safe

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OPEN - You are broken and callow, cautious and safe

WHO: Diabhall and YOU
WHAT: Catch-all - what Diabhall has been up to throughout October. The first layer of the stone mask seems to be eroding....
WHEN: Backdated to span the month of October. What is time, anyway?
WHERE: The Gallows offices and dining hall, a tavern in Kirkwall, and wherever else anyone wants him!
NOTES: Will edit with content warnings as I go - thread starters below. Please let me know if you want something custom for one of your characters!

Starters below!

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The new ring shines on his left thumb, and he stares down at it where his hand rests upon the tabletop. He had saved a bit of coin to have it done with relative skill, and it’s been done well, he thinks. A study band of iron, simple, etched only with a pair of crescent moons on either side of the chunk of brilliant pink crystal set in the center. The only other embellishment to it is hidden inside the band, something secret, something private.

It looks...out of place on Diabhall, a man who wears only blacks and greys, who keeps ornamentation to a minimum. In fact, it feels alien for him even to wear, and he just keeps staring at it, usually sharp red-pink eyes bleary.

Maybe it’s the fourth glass of wine he’s working on, but something in his chest feels...tight, as he regards it. As he thinks about where he got the crystal, what the crystal is, what it was. Pale fingers toy with it, twisting it around and around.

But if the sensation in his chest is the fault of the wine, what is to blame for the drinking itself? Or the way that his eyes shimmer in the dim light of the tavern?

He sighs heavily, draining the glass, and orders a fifth, cheeks and ears rosy, usually-ramrod-straight carriage drooping.

"It's quite a tab you're running up," is John's chosen introduction. Interruption. Either or. It's hard to say which at this exact moment. Diabhall is certainly intent on some goal. John just hasn't sussed out exactly what that might be.

Regardless, he has not been invited to this table. But he sits anyway, easing into the seat across from Diabhall and stretching out his leg at an angle. There is no cup in his hand, but he nods towards the bar, so perhaps there will be something arriving for him soon.

"Forgive the intrusion," John continues, by way of excusing himself. "I've been in conversation with those five gentlemen across the room, and I need to fortify myself before I re-engage."

"I can afford it...I assure you."

Diabhall wasn't expecting company, in truth. He's not usually the first person people choose to sit with in these situations, after all, unless there is no other seat...and besides, he's certainly he scarcely looks like good company. Still, regardless of his expectations, there he is - sitting across from a man he doesn't recognize by sight.

Blearily, he blinks, straightening up a little bit. When he speaks, it's in his usual drone...but slurred a little by the wine. His eyes still have a telltale shimmer to them, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"...It's quite all right. I...wasn't precisely...busy."

Even in the flickering lantern light and shadows of the tavern, Diabhall's condition does not go unnoticed. John is always deliberately clear-headed. And he knows how to mark someone wavering one way or another, though he thinks little of it in this moment. They are in a tavern. If a man sets himself to sampling the wares, is it really so unusual?

"You seem to have put your mind to a task, of sorts," John posits. "I won't disturb you from it."

Not every man welcomes hearing that he has perhaps had enough.

"Do you care for conversation?"

The elf has been drinking. He doesn't particularly care that it's plain he has been drinking, but the lack of judgement on John's part doesn't go unappreciated. One willowy hand drifts to his drink, and he draws a long sip of it before replying, his tone cool, but not irritable.

His eyes keep flicking to the ring, despite his best efforts.

"...Yes. Perhaps conversation would be...well, perhaps I could use the diversion."

"Thedas not agreeing with you?"

Diabhall certainly wouldn't be the first rifter driven to drink at the change in scenery.

Apart from all the chaos of Thedas itself, there was the question of Rifters, of course. Being plunged into a land where one was, by virtue of existing, the subject of such scrutiny would be enough to test anyone's nerves.

"Quite the contrary," he drones, sliding those bright, rosy eyes up to his current companion. "I rather like it here, in many ways. Clearing the slate has been...interesting. Freeing, even."

As drunk as he is, there is still an eerie stillness to Diabhall as he sits there, with an expression that would be stony were it not for the moisture shimmering in his eyes. He taps his fingers a couple of times on the table, thinking a moment before adding to his statement.

"There are just...some bugs in the clockwork. I'm trying to pick them out, but they are persistent."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN - You are broken and callow, cautious and safe

Kirkwall Tavern - OPEN

skids in here late

Responds extremely late

puts shamed hand over time stamp

no shame only zuul

no subject

what did i say about shame