[Golden Dragon] Soulless, but Spirited [Lucas]

[Victor Lark]

49 Summer, 511

There was a seconds-long lull in the hall’s murmuring noise, as sometimes happens when a large group of people share a room’s energy and partake in a mutual breath. The brief silence was filled with the sharp crack of an angry hand against an offending face. The musicians faltered, and some guests glanced towards the disturbance at the bar. But conversation resumed quickly, leaving Victor enough peace to tend his recently red cheek with warm fingertips. A pretty young woman dressed in yellow huffed away from him and towards the door; she did not wear a gold bracelet. “I was only asking if you would,” he called out behind her, “Not necessarily for me.”

At least she offered a furious glance before she exited into the equally hot Summer outside, so that he could compliment it with an unapologetic smile. The expression dropped when her delicate features were replaced by the glare of the door attendant. He rolled his eyes and swiveled against his seat towards the bar again, cooling his fingers around a half-empty pint of ale. The mug beside him was still nearly full, carefully nursed by the plain (and frankly boring) girl since he had first bought it. He had tried to seem indifferent to his new lack of company, but the irritation came out in his limbs as he reached stiffly for the glass and pulled it up against his own. With a clink, a bit of the golden liquid sloshed out onto the polished table.

“Fair enough,” was the toast he gave himself before he lifted the fuller glass to his lips. He chugged away the humiliation for a few long seconds. The drink, which already danced sloppily in his veins, did little to quell his growing displeasure at the evening. Nonetheless, his eyes darted in his head as he searched the room for another stranger—preferably one that did not have to be paid to amuse him.

[Lucas Arias]

Lucas had recently begun to frequent the Golden Dragon. He’d gotten tired of the Rearing Stallion. The women there hadn’t reacted particularly favorably towards his advances, and getting drunk wasn’t any fun when you had to do it alone. It made him feel like a loser, and if there was something that he really hated, then it was being a loser. Besides, they likely still remembered him from his latest scam and his attempts at entertaining them as a bard which had resulted in a bombardment with foul eggs and rotten vegetables. In the Golden Dragon on the other hand they’d treated him like a grown man! And thus he was here again today, a collection of various alcoholic beverages in front of him. He was mildly drunk and had just been about to give a lady with a golden bracelet (that unfortunately only had two arms, but was still lovely) a display of his awesome dancing skills. He’d intended to dance for her on the table like people did in those establishments of questionable reputation where squires like him were never allowed in, when the whole tavern suddenly fell silent. The squire furrowed his brow, somewhat confused, and then he turned around to see what was going on – just in time to watch Victor being slapped. He laughed out loud. „You know“, Victor could hear a voice from behind him. „It’s great to see somebody else being slapped for a change. What did you do to her? Did you try to grope her?“ If he turned around, he’d see a boy sitting at an empty table (the lovely lady with the bracelet had taken the opportunity and left). With his bright red hair, big blue eyes, pale skin and slender stature he looked barely old enough to be in the Golden Dragon, and worse yet, he had his feet on the table and a bottle of wine in his hand, and he didn’t seem to care one bit about the image he projected.

[Victor Lark]

The subsequent laugh slipped from his throat before he could pivot and glimpse the brazen face of the boy that had called out his folly. He did not turn around entirely; to show his chest to the person behind him would be to let go of the heavy golden drink that sat atop the bar. His arm stretched back to the anchor of a mug as his head lolled towards Lucas. “No.” He replied, more stupid than resentful. It took him a moment to decide on a wittier retort. “Is that what you do to the respectable ladies of this establishment?”

When he inevitably opted to relieve the barstool of his teetering ass, both mugs of ale in tow, he did not sit in the chair opposite the fair creature that had all but invited him there. He slid his drinks across the well-worn wood surface and chose the seat nearest to him, taking the place of the whore that had occupied it previous. What Victor saw in that smiling face was a drunkard who was not old enough to hold any great volume of drink, a soft youth who likely knew little of hard day’s work. Victor liked what he saw, but it was only the surface. Only, only. He lifted his favorite mug, the fuller one, to his face and shoved the other at his new friend.

“You’re too young to be groping girls,” he mentioned to the individual who was not two years his junior. As he set down his own drink, he noticed the one clutched in a fist that was not his own. “Give me that.” He tugged at the wine bottle and, if he could, stole a gulp from it. The strength of it threatened to abate the irritation at the front of his mind, but he withdrew it too soon. Leaning close enough to throw the stench of his breath onto the stranger’s jaw, pinkishly pale and smoothed by youth, he said between uncontrollable hiccups of laughter, “So tell me why they slap you, pretty boy.”

[Lucas Arias]

„Me?“ Lucas asked. His eyes widened, as if he were shocked that Victor even dared to suggest such a thing. „Of course not!“ he replied indignantly (so indignantly that it nearly sounded fake). „I treat all the women in this fine establishment like real ladies! But you, you must have done something to get such a reaction from her!“ He nodded in the direction in which the woman had disappeared, and then he took a swig from his bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Somehow he managed to look almost completely innocent while doing so As Victor sat down next to him, the boy made a face. He wasn’t at all sure if he wanted this man’s company. Victor seemed to be after his alcohol! He clung to his bottle of wine protectively and glared at him. „No, I’m not!“ he insisted as Victor informed him that he was too young to be groping girls. „I’m seventeen. I’m an adult, and I can grope all the girls I want!“ He looked around to see if there were any girls that he could grope. He didn’t pay attention for a moment, and thus Victor was able to take the bottle and take a sip. Lucas looked very, very unhappy as he noticed that. He was just about to get mad at Victor because of it when he realized what he had just been called. „I’m not a pretty boy!“ he informed him in no uncertain terms. He really, really hated it when people felt the need to make a comment about his looks. He didn’t need to be told wasn’t a tall, muscular, masculine knight. He was only too aware of it. If looks could kill, Victor would probably be dead now. „You are a pretty boy!“ He said the words as if they were the worst insult possible. It only occured to him after a few seconds how great the potential for misunderstanding them was, and he wished he could just disappear or punch something ... or somebody.

[Victor Lark]

“Oh!” Victor exclaimed, emitting a noise that puffed between a sigh and a gasp. Glad to have taken the topic of their short conversation away from his embarrassing mishap with the unadorned girl, he relished in the vexation of someone other than himself. He put his hand over his heart; his eyes brightened facetiously. “You really think I’m pretty? How kind of you!”

The same fingers that had clutched his chest moved suddenly to wrap around the squire’s shoulder. He squeezed it harshly, searching for soft fat, but discovered instead a young layer of muscle. Happy to have learned something he did not know about this stranger, Victor loosed his grip just as quickly and instead let his hand linger over the boy’s shoulder blade. “I’m sorry you donnot believe that you are, too. It’s sad to see young men so disenchanted these days. You’ll grow out of it, I promise. You’ll be the most confident kid at... well, where ever you go.” He patted the back beneath his hand a few times, but insobriety turned the gesture into hard slaps. Victor did not seem to notice. At least, he did not apologize.

“I think you are pretty.” Victor added, “You should too!” Then he laughed, the kind of derisive chortle that may have suggested the compliment was not sincere. Whether or not it was, Victor was not capable of the concentration required in adding that affect to his tone; his words were as flat and detached as they were sloppy and slurred. With the hand that was not occupied taunting a man with its touch, he grabbed one of his mugs. He tipped it heartily back and, after a few long gulps, sloshed it towards his latest companion. “You want?”

[Lucas Arias]

„No!“ Lucas quickly exclaimed as he heard Victor’s words, and his head turned as read as a tomato. „I don’t think you are pretty. You are really ugly. I mean, you are kind of pretty, but not like that! I don’t think you look like a girl! Oh, petch! I need another drink!“ With that he stopped talking and drank from his bottle, so much that it looked like he would just pass out from ingesting too much alcohol at the same time for a moment. And then he simply stared at Victor and wondered why his brain wasn’t working properly. As Victor gripped his shoulder, the boy looked up at him. It took him a moment to reply with a halfway coherent sentence. „I’m not disenchanted!“ he disagreed with him. „I’m just not ... shyke ... I’m drunk!“ He drank more because he obviously wasn’t drunk enough, and then he realized that Victor had slapped him on the back. Why had he slapped him? He narrowed his eyes, and then he clenched his fist and punched the man. He was just about to punch him again – there was something about him that he found mildly irritating – when Victor did the magical thing. Lucas immediately retracted his hand and looked at the mug thirstily. He didn’t care at all that Victor had drunk from it. „Okay, I’m pretty“, he murmurred somewhat indifferently because it seemed as if that was what Victor wanted to hear, and then he demanded, „Give it to me!“ Instead of waiting for Victor to let go of the mug, he simply took it though.

[Victor Lark]

Victor’s beer escaped his hand without his realizing, too concerned was he with the latest pain in his side. “Ah! Hey!” came the words out of surprised wordlessness. He withdrew his hand from the boy and raised it to inspect the rising bruise there. He winced. That boy was stronger than he looked. If he were of sounder mind, Victor might have asked what he had done to deserve the assault. But he could suspect. In his swimming head, the thrill of shock combined with a pinch of resentment distracted him almost entirely from casual curiosities. What was left could be satisfied with less than prying words: actions speak louder, they say.

He only chucked warily at Lucas’s admission and replied, “Well I’m glad you’ve found your confidence.” Then he reached for the second of his two mugs as he watched him drink the other. He rubbed the ache on his ribcage. It was already fading and would probably not bruise for long. Instead of real discomfort, newfound bitterness throbbed from it, inspiring a hasty idea that found Victor’s reflexes before his reason. He did not lift his mug, but allowed his hand to fly to the base of Lucas’s, where he proceeded to shove it against his face.

“Drink up, drunkard!” He added with a sharp laugh. He quickly reached for the wine bottle opposite, as if he had only pushed Lucas in the process of stealing it. The neck of it was warm but the drink inside would be cool enough. His tongue recalled that it was stronger and more palatable than that which he had offered away. Victor tipped it graciously at the pretty boy then pulled it to his mouth.

[Lucas Arias]

„Hey!“ Lucas complained as Victor shoved the mug against his face. For a moment he was very, very tempted to just empty the whole drink over Victor’s head, but then he came to the decision that it would be a waste of valuable alcohol. It was his drink, and he drank it quickly just in case Victor decided to take it from him again, eyeing Victor warily every now and then. He didn’t trust the man at all! He was after his drink (that he had just received from Victor a moment ago)! Soon enough the boy was even more drunk before. His cheeks weren’t simply rosy, they were bright red, and his eyes were glassy. He had a rather insane look on his face. „That was great“, he announced and slammed the mug down on the table. Having that done he focused his attention on Victor again who still irritated him as much as before. The man’s command had finally registered in his mind, a minute too late. „I’m not a drunkard!“ Lucas announced. He slurred his words a little. „I’m perfectly sober! You are the drunkard here!“ To prove to Victor just how sober he was, Lucas attempted to punch him again. But by now he was so drunk that he actually missed! He stared at his fist and then at Victor, not sure what had just happened! And then he simply lunged at Victor.

[Victor Lark]

Victor managed half a laugh at the sloppy attack that failed to collide with him. He threw an equally clumsy hand in its wake, as if he could deter another attempt. He set the wine bottle down, but he did not have enough time to steady it on the table before he found himself suddenly knocked backward in his chair. As its wooden back rattled between the hard floor and Victor’s shoulder blades, the bottle tipped and rolled and sent its contents spattering to the floor like a cascade of wasted blood.

Grunting, he reached up and seized Lucas’s shirt in a pair of fists. He flung him to one side as best he could, legs flailing for a hold from where the seat of his chair pinned them. He rolled towards the pretty boy, laughing, and scrambled to his feet. “Fine, I’m the drunkard,” he replied, a bite of bitterness leaking out between his smiling teeth. He offered his hand to help Lucas up; if he took it, he would be subsequently dropped to the hard floor again. “Ha! I dare you to hit me again!”

Victor turned towards the table. He frowned at the empty mug and the emptying bottle beside it, but his mien lifted when he noticed the second mug, which still had some ale left in it. Disregarding the body on the floor entirely, he took a short gulp and sighed.

[Lucas Arias]

Having successfully knocked Victor backwards, Lucas clenched his fists and prepared to give him a bit of free dental surgery (he was in an especially generous mood today), but then he noticed that the precious alcohol had been spilt! His eyes widened in shock, he lowered his fists somewhat, and then he turned his head, wondering if it would make him sick if he just drank from the floor. The alcohol was too valuable to waste it like that!

That brief moment of distraction gave Victor the opportunity to seize his shirt. Lucas complained (in vain), and then he already found himself on the floor, looking even more like a fool than before. „Good. Now you finally understand!“ he remarked as Victor agreed that he was the drunkard here. He tried to look satisfied and superior, which was kind of hard considering the position he was in.

As Victor offered his hand, Lucas took it, foolishly thinking that the man really wanted to help him up – only to find himself on the floor again. His gaze fell on the bottle next to him. He took it and shook it a couple of times. While Victor emptied the second mug, Lucas greedily drank the last few drops that were left in the bottle.

And then he got up and looked at Victor challengingly. „What will happen if I hit you again? And was the mug you just drank from mine?“