Wanted (Closed)

[Laszlo]

Fall 31st, 511 Laszlo stretched, arcing his back and reaching skyward as he leaned back to yawn. The cool night air washed by him, licking at his jacket and feathering his dull brown hair. He closed his eyes to enjoy the pleasant chill of the breeze, inhaling the stale, dusty scents of the city. When he opened his eyes, the stars twinkled at him. After giving a quick, cursory glance to Syna's lover, Laszlo let out a long sigh and began sauntering forward. The worn soles of his boots scuffed against the rough stone blocks of the rooftop, crunching sand beneath his feet. The Ethaefal had scaled a modest, square shop to stay out of sight, and a waist-high balustrade kept the small, private area enclosed and protected from view. He pocketed his hands to keep them warm as he approached the edge of the rooftop. The view from up here wasn't as grand as it could be from other vantage points, but it was still much higher than the ground, and allowed Laszlo to spy a good portion of Syliras, rolling onward over the landscape's gentle hills. The stone fortress almost glowed in the night. Like the moon reflecting off snowcapped mountains, the ash gray concrete and stone reflected the light back at the sky, peppered with yellow braziers and torches that lit the streets for less sensitive eyes. Laszlo's amethyst gaze scoured the streets below as he leaned over the balustrade, watching a small brigade of Syliran Knights pass by underneath him. A portion of his medium-long, untied hair fell to one side of his face as he observed their passing, bitter-tinged indifference painted on his immaculate, divine face. "Keep searching," he mumbled under his breath, glaring after them. "You'll never take me." It didn't seem to occur to Laszlo that after Syna's light had gone, he should be in his Symenestra phase. He was, partially, possessing the sharpened Widow's vision that he had grown so used to at night. But his appearance was more akin to his day phase, sporting the dark brown hair he possessed in Winter, though lacking his jade horns. He could almost pass for human, which could have been a relief in this wretched city. The Knights were hunting for a monster. Laszlo refused to fit that description, in any way. Shrugging in his jacket against the cold, the Ethaefal decided he'd better use this stolen time to find a better hiding place. As he turned around, he spied another man on the roof with him. He nearly jumped, swallowing a gasp and backing up into the balustrade. Getting a hold of himself, Laszlo angrily narrowed his eyes. "So you found me. Now what, are you going to jail me? Execute me? That man was trying to kill me—I was only defending myself!" Laszlo glanced over his shoulder, gauging how far he'd have to fall if he decided to jump from the rooftop. It was far enough that he'd only consider it as a last resort. "And don't you listen to a word that harlot says. She tricked me. I was nothing but kind to her!"

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos never thought that he would get to sleep; his mind was racing with thoughts upon thoughts that never seemed to end. When one thought had finished and gone to the side, another took its place just as big, loud, and conscious-forcing as the last one. But the Isur was overly worried, as usual, and when his head hit the pillow after he got comfortable in his bed, he immediately went to sleep. If anyone was around the big lug as he was sleeping on his bed, they would be able to hear the distinct rumble and snore of the Isurian sleeping on his bed. The city that he awoke to in the dream was a place that he had never seen before. It was a well fortified castle that had thick walls, guards, and pink clouds that seemed to be hung in the sky with fisherman's string; Vanos could see them sway back and forth on the string as he looked up to it. Despite the evening setting of his dream, whatever faint light glowed from the earth shone up into the sky like an eternally lit evening in winter, except it was far from being that cold. Of all places for Vanos to be in this strange city, he found himself on the roof. He didn't know what the building was underneath him other than that it was at least two storeys from the ground and would probably hurt if he was to fall from the roof. Nothing would break, of course, but that didn't mean his arms or internal organs wouldn't take a bruising from the fall. When Vanos bent over the edge of the building to see what was down below he realized that this dream wasn't like a regular dream that he had had on countless occasions. He was more or less in control of this dream space as he leaned his frame back away from the edge of the building and looked down to his hands. His dream body responded to the command as if he was conscious inside the dream and not just watching a scene inside his head. "Lucid dreams," Vanos said in the cold words of his mother tongue, "Never thought I would get a chance to have one of these weird dreams. And of all places my mind brings me, it takes me to a weird city on a rooftop. A joke of Izurdin, perhaps?" Something was happening down on the street below and Vanos witnessed a small group of armed knights scouring the streets for someone, or something, and they seemed mighty determined to find the object of their search. Vanos hoped that he wasn't that object, as he had few skills to repel an adversary, and he doubted that his dream would equip him with the power and strength of Izurdin to smite his imaginary enemies. When the brigade turned around the corner, Vanos stepped onto a different part of the roof that he assumed was the front of whatever building was at his feet. That was when Vanos realized that he wasn't alone. Some thin, human-esque man stood there and seemed shocked at Vanos' appearance. He had never seen the man before, or the type of man that was standing in front of him - to Vanos, all tall human beings looked the same. They all talked the same and used the same fast hand gestures that meant nothing to him. When the human spoke in a very fast paced Common speech, Vanos frowned as he realized that his mind was truly being cruel to him to have to communicate in his own dream to another being in that dreadful language of humans. "It would help if you spoke a little slower if you want me to understand," Vanos said in his own words before the man gave him a confused look. He didn't acknowledge that Vanos said but kept speaking in rapid Common and asked him a question, Vanos guessed, by the way he inflected the last word in a common human way of implying that the whole sentence was a query. "Vhat harlot?" Vanos asked, entertaining the figment from his dream in the speech that it seemed to speak in ever so easily. "I do not know you. Vhy vould I execute? Are you vhy they, down there, are looking for someone? Someone you?" Vanos took a cautious step over to the man and wondered just what he would do in this world, on this rooftop. Vanos had nothing more on his body than a pair of work pants and thick, heavy work boots. He wasn't equipped like the knights below if this man had any tricks up his sleep other than dishevelled hair and a shocked look on his face. "Vhat is name? Voof bad place to hide. They look up - you there. Now you there vith Isurian, 'ho barely understand the Common you speak." He said the last few words with a bit of a condescending tone, as Vanos was slightly irritated in the way that his dream was forcing him to speak more Common. Wasn't the sanctuary of his dreams a safe place he could speak Isurian without worry? He let out a low rumble of a grunt as he folded both of his arms over his chest, the thicker left arm folding on the outside as the regular - though equally large - right arm tucked inside.

[Laszlo]

It took a little too long for Laszlo to realize that his intruder was not speaking Common, at least not at first. Fearing some sort of conniving trick, Laszlo narrowed his violet eyes, slanting his head away from his intruder to get a peripheral scope of his surroundings. There was no other movement, as far as he could perceive. No obvious signs of ambush, an absurd and unlikely tactic created by the Ethaefal's frightened and paranoid mind. The muscled stranger was alone, or appeared to be.

He nearly jumped when the man began speaking words he could understand, heavily accented by an hard, unfamiliar accent. The unusual execution of flawed diction seemed to verify that Common was not his first language. Was he not from Syliras, in that case? The castle city afforded frequent foreigners and entertained a spectrum of colorful races. The creature before him was probably not human; if he was, he was very unusual. Despite his unbelievably thick build, he was more than a head shorter than Laszlo himself, though no less intimidating. His arms didn't match, which was odd. The tightened skin of one was an earthy shade of green, in startling contrast to the pink hue of the rest of his body. Initially, Laszlo had assumed it was some sort of tattoo, but as he inspected it, that didn't seem quite right…

"You mean you're not… you're not with them? The Knights?" Taking another cautious look over his shoulder, momentarily trusting that the bulky figure wouldn't rush him outright as soon as his back was turned, Laszlo spotted the peacekeeper brigade marching off into a far street, disappearing out of view. Heeding the stranger's advice, he belatedly stepped away from the balustrade, closing some of the distance between them.

What had he said? Isurian?

"Righteous bastards," Laszlo hissed, bowing his head and threading his fingers into his hair in frustration. "Yes, they're after me. I… did something. Hurt some people—but it was an accident! I never meant to hurt the girl, and her father… he was crazed." The Ethaefal turned, staring accusingly at the edge of the rooftop, daring the Knights to find him now. The blue moonlight glittered in his dark brown hair and sent dark shadows over half of his face, highlighting the gentle cleft in his chin. Though he lacked his horns and remained unaware of the impossible circumstances regarding his present appearance, he still knew that he was Ethaefal. His soft skin retained a pearly shimmer trademark to his kind, and in brutal honesty, his features were too well sculpted to be merely human. "They wouldn't listen to me. I told them what happened, but that… that bitch denied it! They think that I…" Laszlo turned back to the Isur. "I would never."

Pulling his brunet waves into a haphazard mess, Laszlo tore his hand from his hair. He glanced down the Isurian, pulling in his lips thoughtfully and chewing at them for half a minute. "I'm Laszlo. I'll… try to speak a bit slower for you, but I don't know your language. Only this and Symenos." His violets traveled back upward to meet the broad man's sheltered gaze. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"

Laszlo suddenly reached out, laying a hand on the stranger's thick shoulder. The firmness of the flesh under his comparatively soft palm was momentarily startling, and he gave the shoulder an unconscious and gentle squeeze to affirm that he was actually made of skin and muscle, and not carved from stone. As his wavering confidence returned to him, he adopted an angry look. "You're either with me or against me here, Isurian. I don't have time to prattle about our common interests and strike rapport with you. I'm tired of doing everything the hard way."

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos remained silent was he was inspected by the man in front of him. Were his eyes a peculiar colour or was it simply another trick of the dream that he had entered? The very odd dream in which he had some form of control over certain actions and perceptions that were not normally afforded to him in a regular dream. His eyes did not truly examine the man that was in front of him, as there was not anything there that Vanos thought was particularly out of place for a dream; the man in front of him could have had four legs and been talking with two and a half mouths and Vanos would assume that everything was normal within this setting. “A nights?” Vanos said to the stranger through narrowed eyes. What did he mean by pluralizing that word? To Vanos there was only one night, and one day. In his mind it was impossible to have nights or to accuse someone of being multiple nights. But perhaps this man was speaking in riddles on purpose and Vanos had to come up with some witty response to this query. He had nothing. “I am not night, I am not vith nights. I am Isur. Ve are, uh – Isurs.” Was that the answer that the man was looking for? Maybe the men below were Isurian too and this was some sort of alternate reality city of Sultros that he was experiencing. If the man was running away from Isurians, then what had he done to irritate them so? It was not like Isurs were easy to anger. “Vho are you vith? Someone that is looking to hurt night? Are you sort of day? Some sort of sun – or something that vill hurt the night?” Vanos struggled to understand the man’s fast words – did he do something to a dog? – and then he said that he would never do something to a dog. What was so bad that someone could do to a dog, give them the wrong food or be mean to them and chase them around? Vanos was not capable of thinking of the sort of dark things that someone could do to a dog, as Vanos was not the type of person to entertain such silly thoughts in his head. “Isur speak Isurian. That is vhat I vas speaking. Symenos is language of tall men and vomen that have claws, sharp teeth, very thin and delicate,” Vanos paused as he looked the man over and he didn’t appear completely thin and helpless, not that Vanos would describe Veldrys as that either. Despite being thin, Vanos had a feeling that Veldrys could put up quite a strong fight if he was backed into a corner. “I am Vanos Strongarm Coglias,” Vanos informed the man. If he was simply a figment of his imagination, it would not matter that he knew what clan he was from. This Laszlo was simply an extension of his mind, or so Vanos was told by his elders. They knew everything that Vanos knew as, in essence, it was him he was talking to ... Unless Izurdin decided to take the odd shape of the human in front of him. A cruel trick, indeed. “I do not know vhat I am doing here. I vent to sleep, and here I am. Dream, this is,” Vanos looked over the roof ledge and gave a shrug as he let out a dissatisfied groan. “Very veird dream this ...” Vanos stopped speaking as he looked to the hand that went down to his strong shoulder. The hand against his grey flesh was cold and it gripped his flesh curiously, almost as if he was testing to see if Vanos was a real person or not – a very interesting experiment by part of Vanos’ mind. He raised one brow curiously as he looked back to Laszlo curiously, in return. “I am not here to take sides or to fight. Vhy vould I fight you? Vhat bad did you do to get fight from men down below? Do you think all Isur fight vhen angry – that ve fight all tall men and vomen?” He let out a grunt and flared the muscles along his arm, causing the strength along his arms and shoulders to bulge and ripple under his thick flesh. “If I vanted to, I could toss you from side of roof vith one arm. But I do not vant that.” Vanos blinked as his brain was a tad slower in processing the Common into Isurian, then back into Common for Vanos to speak and to ask a question properly. “Vhat do you mean, everything hard vay? Vhy hard for you? Speak Common vell – hard for Isur that has been in Sultros vhole life. Non-Isur customs veird, peculiar. Judge Isur like he should know better, but I do not. I know my vays. I know my job.” Vanos sighed softly to himself at that point as he realized just how alone he truly was in Denval. He had friends – yes – but he had no one else. He went to bed alone every evening. He had no one to give his affections to, no matter how deep down they were in his heart. Despite the appearance that he was made from stone, Vanos was still a living being that desired companionship. He flashed his gaze up to Laszlo for a moment with a grunt as he pulled his shoulder away from those thin fingers that were resting and testing his flesh. “I know me and no one else. Vanos alone in Denval. Being out of Sultros harder than I thought it vould be. Mizahar – world of humans, Symenestra, Kelvics – difficult to live in. Makes me miss Sultros. Did not fit in there, but knew that vorld better than this one.”

[Laszlo]

The hornless Ethaefal gawked at the stone block of a man standing before him in, nonplussed and completely at a loss for what to say, or even think. The Isur, Vanos, didn't have a clue what Laszlo was talking about. He retracted his hand self-consciously, hanging it on the back of his own neck. Finally settling on being exasperated, he let out a sigh.

"No, nononono, a knight, a knight." Gods damn it all, why did so many words in Common sound the same? Laszlo indicated upward at the indigo twilight. "Not that night." Pointed to the street below. "That knight. A… fighter, warrior, peacekeeper. K-n-i…" Wait, why would spelling help?

Laszlo shot a look over his shoulder, as if Syliras would at his command produce someone to step in and assist him in clearing up the confusion. Knowing that this was futile and tedious, he kept going anyway, fueled by his resentment for the fisherman and his family and the drones coming after him. "Actually I am sort of like the day, but… that doesn't matter. Forget night, all right?"

He was going to have to take this slower if he was going to get anywhere. Wherever it was he was trying to get.

Vanos had volunteered information about himself, something about a dream which Laszlo mostly ignored and faulted to a mistake in translation. Through the thick, robust accent, Laszlo was relieved to make out any meaning at all. Still, the Isur didn't seem hostile or annoyed in any way. In fact, trying to explain things, it seemed more like he was trying to help. Deciding that that was enough to consider Vanos on his "side", Laszlo relaxed. He sauntered backwards for a few steps, his shoulders slackened as the cool autumn air nudged at him and ruffled his hair.

Cracking a sly grin and perking one eyebrow, he gave Vanos a well-humored look as he examined the Isur from head to toe. "Look at you. Built like an ox and just as sharp. It's almost adorable." No, that wasn't fair. Vanos just didn't speak the language well, and had no handle on the situation. That was fine, it meant that Vanos wouldn't soon be turning him into the Knights. Or tossing him off the roof. "Let me… let me start over. My name," Laszlo patted his chest, "is Laszlo. You're an Isur. I'm an Ethaefal. My goddess is Syna."

Laszlo turned toward the street, feathering back his hair and hooking one hand on his hip. Another long sigh of effort brushed past his lips. Forcing himself to be coherent had dissipated some of his bitterness, leaving either relief or mild annoyance at the tedium of it all. It was hard to tell. "I'm in some trouble, Vanos. I hurt some people, but it was an accident. Now there are some people, the nights, who want to track me down." His features softened and he stared over the blocky landscape of Syliras. "It wasn't my fault."

What was he doing, explaining all this to someone as clueless as Vanos? What could that possibly achieve? This was futile and inane. Hot frustration returned from the pit of his stomach to burn at the back of his throat. With an infuriated growl, Laszlo backhanded the air, then stormed off to the short wall nearby, guarding the edge of the building from the alleyway. After kicking at it once, he turned and dropped down against it, sitting on his rump. He hiked up one knee, setting his forearm on its crest while his other hand pulled at his hair.

"Zlynge," he swore in a defeated huff. "Why am I even telling you this? Why do I do anything? What does it accomplish?" He shook his head, letting his gray violets fall shut. "What's the point?"

[Vanos Strongarm]

"Knight. Yes." Vanos said as he got what the man was saying to him, though the fact that he tried spelling out the word meant nothing to Vanos. He looked up to him with a tilted head as he tried to figure out the letters that were being spelled out to him; that first letter, from what Vanos knew of Common, didn't seem to fit the word. Perhaps it was a silent letter? Common enjoyed placing random letters in words in which they didn't pronounce, must have been some silly Common game to mess up people that didn't speak the language. Vanos tilted his head curiously to the other side as the man described him as more of a day than night. Was 'day' a certain type of fighter, the way that knights were fighters too? Maybe that's why the night was seeking the day. With that thought that came to a conclusion, Vanos smiled that he was able to understand the simpleness of Common linguistics in regards to this silly word. "Vhat you mean, adorable? Ox not adorable. Ox functional, Ox has purpose and is animal used for labour." Vanos pondered for a moment, surely he would be able to understand this without having his hand held. "Strong like Ox, Isur are, yes. But Ox are not sharp. They are round, soft, edibl-" Vanos finally clicked to what the man truly meant a gave a grunt. While Vanos understood that he may come off as less-than-intelligent thanks to the language gap, he was far from being a simple animal. The Isurian didn't let that scowl of a look fade from his face as he saw the man in front of him pat his chest as he introduced himself, as if Vanos was unable to fully understand the context of the new conversation topic. The man didn't appear to look like an Ethaefal, from what Vanos knew about them they had horns. And were far more graceful and less prone to emotions as he had seen with this man. Perhaps this was his other form, the more normal one that he was interacting with; the form of the person when they were on the ground and were mortal, before they went up into the sky. "Vhy do they think you did something bad? Vhat is it because you are of day and they are not? Did you try talking to them? You speak Common better than me - you vould be able to talk to them easily. Talk to them right. Talk to them to talk about vhy not your fault, yes?" Vanos was confused by the next course of action, had he done something to upset the Ethaefal? With a growl he turned and slumped against the edge of the roof and was sitting there on the edge and looked out precariously from their position on the roof. Vanos stepped over to him and stood there, silently, as he listened to the man's words in that defeated tone. Instead of standing there awkwardly, Vanos went to the right side of Laszlo and sat beside him, as his bigger left arm settled in his lap. He glanced over to the Ethaefal and pondered what exactly he could say, in words that would be understood, to try and understand the reason for his melancholy. "Talking can fix things, correct? You talk to fix, to vent frustration. To speak and to seek someone to listen. Perhaps that is why you are here. You are to speak, I am to listen." Vanos smiled as he moved his strong left hand to seek out Laszlo's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You speak, I listen."

[Laszlo]

"It's not that simple. They won't listen." Laszlo rubbed at his forehead, dimly aware of Vanos' shape approaching him, then moving around and then sinking down next to him. The Ethaefal gave the Isur an acknowledging glance from the corner of his eye. With both of them seated, Vanos looked even larger than before, now that Laszlo had lost his height advantage. It might have been intimidating if Vanos were a member of the Knights, or some thug trying to rob him. Instead , the Isur seemed to genuinely want to help, even if there was little he could do. Laszlo couldn't help but feel more secure, next to the bear of a man.

"Where did you hear that talking can fix things? Talking doesn't—" As a set of fingers slipped into Laszlo's hand, he looked down in bewilderment. People didn't usually offer personable physical contact to comfort him. Just dull words and half-hearted condolences. A gesture like this was uncommon. With a nasal exhale, Laszlo surrendered to a partial smile and gave a weak squeeze in return to show his appreciation.

Vanos had offered to listen. The least Laszlo could do to show his gratitude was oblige him.

"There was a girl," he started cautiously, batting stray curtains of hair from his face with his free hand. "Her father had allowed me to stay in his family's home for a few days. Last night, his older daughter came to my room and… I don't know why, but I kissed her. She kissed me. Then something went wrong, and she cut herself on my teeth. I have fangs." Laszlo pulled back his lips and felt at his teeth, which looked perfectly normal and even impeccably straight and level. "Well, not now, but sometimes. Anyway she panicked, and her father came in. He jumped to conclusions and attacked me. I defended myself, and hurt him very badly. As far as I know he's still alive, but… it's their word against mine, now."

Laszlo shook his head, uttering a low sigh. "That's just one problem, among many. I shouldn't exist like this. I deserve better, but I'm stick here on the solid surface of Mizahar, forced to live a life I never asked for. Alone. And that's the worst part, Vanos. It's just… me. No family, no race, no great Ethaefal cities. Just tiny me."

It did help, to talk and have someone listen. Laszlo could feel himself relax, though some part of him was disappointed to see his bitterness go, as if he could have used it for something. Calmer, he let his knee slide back down as he tipped his head back against the short wall he sat against.

"I'm sorry, I know I sound pathetic." Laszlo turned and offered a polite smile to the Isur, then glanced away with a shrug. "I'd just like to know what I'm supposed to do."

[Vanos Strongarm]

The man was speaking Common in a much easier way for the Isur to understand, and when Laszlo spoke Vanos was capable of understanding him easily. The remark about his teeth was, of course, confusing as his teeth looked just as normal and harmless as any human being that Vanos had seen before and he couldn't help but grin at the confession of Laszlo that they weren't sharp just now. Vanos wanted to reach his hand up to see if the man could even bite his skin with those terrifyingly normal teeth. "Alone? How you alone?" He asked as he let out a grunt and curled his great hand into a fist and gently pushed it against Laszlo's arm. "I am here beside you - not alone. You are talking to me - not alone. Yes, there is no city for Ethaefal, but that doesn't mean you are completely alone. Many Ethaefel I have seen that have become part of new city - not their city - but part of vorld again. You cannot escape this place, so should adapt. Should be part of vorld and not sitting on voof, hiding from night." Vanos said with a grin as he gave his big head a shake. He wasn't sure if the man would be wholly comfortable with the idea, but Vanos decided to do it anyways: he extended his large and heavy left arm around Laszlo's body, just around his mid torso. With a slow and gentle squeeze, Vanos pulled the man's body closer to his in a half-hug as he looked up to him with a smirk. "You are supposed to live, supposed to thrive - not be alone and not be sad." Vanos shook his head as he loosened his arm from around his body and settled it in his lap. "Not pathetic, no. Vhen not vith people you like, or vith people you vant to be vith or love it is hard to feel not lonely. I feel that way in Denval. No other Isur around there, no other man that vill love me." Vanos' heavy ridge furrowed as he admitted those words verbally, something that he had played close to his chest up to his point before. Though if this was a dream, then he technically still was keeping it inside. "You are to be happy. To be free and have fun. Not be grumly with Isurian on a voof." Vanos said with a grin as he peered down past his feet to the alley below the two of them, a drop that would be far too high for them to both drop safely.

[Laszlo]

As Vanos' arm released him, Laszlo felt himself shiver. That strong arm had, for a moment, protected the thinner Ethaefal from the autumn chill, which had now resumed teasing his skin through his clothing. Suffering that, he gave a moment for the Isur's words to sink in. Adapt. Be part of the world. Could Laszlo even do that? Was there a point? On the other hand, Laszlo would never age. If he were stuck here… he really had no other choice than do to something with his life.

Vanos had spoken of love, and sadness. Love. What a very simple thing, the desire for a soulmate, to have a single person standing beside you and only you. To have someone affirm your existence, to need it. It wasn't as if Laszlo didn't understand the concept. He was sure that, in his past lives, he died for it. It just seemed like such a… trivial thing, to affect someone so powerfully.

Trivial or not, Laszlo knew something about powerful sadness. Pressing his lips into a line, which almost promised a smile, he placed his hand upon the top of Vanos' large, solid arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You'll find someone," Laszlo reassured softly, his eyes pointed downward. He meant what he said; finding another person to care about you seemed like the easiest thing in the world when you compared it to wanting to get back into heaven. So to speak.

"Grumly, huh?" The promise on Laszlo's lips came through, and a weak smile showed the dim glint of moonlight on his teeth. "That must be an Isurian word." His thumb upon Vanos' arm began tracing a gentle pattern over his skin, playing a childish game with the direction of the short hair that grew there. "You really think I could do that? Become part of the world? Do you think that would help?"

Laszlo leaned over, glancing down the side of the building. "The world doesn't seem fond of me, but perhaps I should stop hiding. Even if integrating myself with other people sounds pointless, it would probably better than moping around, blaming everybody but me. Still I… I feel empty. Aimless."

With a soft sigh, Laszlo leaned to the side and rested his weight upon Vanos, allowing his head to find a place on his bulging shoulder. Swallowing a lump of anxiety with a grimace, Laszlo aimed his violet eyes outward, staring over the scape of the city. "But maybe you're right. I'm not alone, not right now. Not as long as you're here."

[Vanos Strongarm]

Vanos almost let out a snort as he felt the smaller hand hold onto his bigger one. He looked over to Laszlo and thought that while he was giving him advice on not being so lonesome, it was him, too, that required the hand holding and the coddling. It wasn't easy for an Isur in a non-Isur world to get along with everyone, either. Not that there was extreme racism among those that he had met, but how could he express his feelings to someone when they had no idea what he was talking about? The one man that had understood Isurian fluent enough was someone that Vanos couldn't get together with in that way, he was more employer than lover. He let out a grunt as he looked over to Laszlo's smile at the word that he said. Vanos didn't think it was the wrong word to say, as he had heard other people say it before. Maybe he was missing a letter when he said it out loud himself? "Grumply. Grumly. Grumpy?" Vanos shrugged his broad shoulders with a defeated grunt as he shook his head. "Not Isur word. Common vord. So common, I lost how to say." Vanos pressed his tongue over his bottom lip as he looked back over to Laszlo and nodded his head assuredly. "Yes. You can become part of it, if you vant to. There is nothing stopping you from doing it but you. You look more human than I, and you vill adapt better in there than I ever could. I get looked at like some sort of short, funny human. They vant to ask silly question of Sultros. Or they think that they can valk over to arm, touch - poke - feel - as if arm is their's." Vanos looked down to his left hand in his lap, the hand sitting right beside his right hand which was significantly smaller but still massive in comparison to a regular human hand. "Find purpose? That vill help." Vanos smirked as he pointed at himself while looking back over to the man seated next to him. "Find someone like Vanos. Someone that vill keep company on roofs and listen to you talk. Vhen you find him, not let go. Then you vill never be alone, and vill have good company." To further emphasize his point, Vanos reached around with his big arm and wrapped it along Laszlo's back, giving him a tug towards the Isur with a hearty grunt. "See? Not alone. I'm not going anyvhere."