Lets Pretend(solo)

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Winter, Day 1, 512 AV Asarra Chrestfeild was on the stage tonight and when her heavy dangerous voice sung low through the crowd everyone listened. People watched as she twined suggestively against the metal poles used for dancing and posed with cat grace amongst the musicians. Her body was a toned tool with just the perfect amount of curve and the skin tight black dress she wore had enough transparency to show everything but still left a mark of mystery. She was the most beautiful, sexiest women Sebastian had ever seen, and she was a nuit. As such Madame Zanna refused to hire her but, did allow Asarra to preform gigs once in a while. After all no one knew how to fill up a house quiet like the spellbinding nuit. It was a shame her people possessed no body of their own and that hers would someday soon decay into a shambling corpse. Sebastian was sure this particular undead would have no trouble finding a new one however, as both men and women gazed at her with longing. Watching Asarra preform always sent eerie shivers up his spine. She wasn’t just showing off her singing and dancing talents but, like a siren calling whispering invitations she let everyone know of more personal services available after the show. Sebastian supposed everyone had a bit of twisted curiosity within them but, anyone who sought comforts within her dead embrace twice was a sick man. Asarra’s dark luminous eyes glided over the crowd. Sebastian who was leaning against a nook by the door felt the hairs along his body rise when her eyes fell on him. Suddenly filled with shame that colored his cheeks he turned away unable to bare her gaze and the memories promised within. He waited tell the weight of her probing stare lifted before cracking the door open and slipping out for some fresh air. What he got instead was the musky reek of an overused ally shadowed by the decaying rot carried from the bay on tainted winds. Still the winter chill brought relief to his heated skin and the muffled quiet calmed his mind. Taking out a polished nut brown pipe Sebastian stuffed it with tobacco before lighting a bit of tender and coxing the weed into smoldering. Finding a nearby crate to sit on he settled down with the gritty plaster of Loveless against his back and stared up at the sky. The wind was chasing the clouds tonight. Heading them like sheep tell they mashed together in shades of gray. There’d be another storm too if he understood Zeltivan weather patterns correctly. Every other day it felt like there was a storm, but no matter how many times it rained the city was never washed of its stink. Not like his Slyrius. Sebastian held the pipe while he chewed absentmindedly at the stem. Some days he missed home more than others. The great white walls, the proud towers, the hard working people whose sweat bore the mark of love for their city, and of course the knights. You could never forget the knights. Honored men and women who road like thunder on great chargers while sunlight glinted off polished armor and a forest of lances bristled overhead each topped by a whipping pennon. Like every Slyrian child Sebastian’s dream had been to join those exulted ranks. To prove his blood, fight for glory and spread justice throughout the land. A wistful smile cut his lips and bit around the corners. A part of him still bitterly wished for that dream, but after six years of searching, puzzling, and collecting blood beneath his fingernails Sebastian was starting to lose faith that he’d ever unraveling the Windoak’s riddle. And maybe that was for the best. He’d left his house in disarray with barely a word to family and hadn’t seen them since, nor written, or glimpsed Slyrian soil. Nothing had seemed right after his father’s death and then with Haranae so close behind… Unwilling to tread further down the bitter path of memory Sebastian clasped both his hand together and glanced about him hoping to draw distraction from the present. His eye’s alighted on a half concealed form some ways down the darken street. No sooner had the man been spotted did he doubled over and proceeded to puke out his insides in great gasping coughs. Sebastian watched him idly as the last of the tobacco smolder from his mouth. Only a third of a season and he was already getting tired of this place. “You need a hand?” He called over to the man. There would always be another hopeless drunk, another thief holding a victim at knife point, another woman suffering abuse. He couldn’t save them all, and Sebastian had accepted that, but he was far from becoming callus. Everyone needed a hand up sometimes, a friendly word, or a shoulder to lean on. It didn’t cost him anything he wasn’t willing to spend and Sebastian hoped that at least some were encouraged by his example and would return the favor towards another. The man didn’t answer which was normal. Hard to reply when your guts were coming out the wrong end. Sebastian taped out his pipe against the crate’s wooden frame. He should get back inside, but shrugging decided to give this fellow a couple of minutes encase he needed some minor assistance. After all he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to return under Asarra’s eye.

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Though the lantern light from gritty windows left swaths of deep shadows Sebastian could still discern an oddness about the man puking some good strides away. The sounds of regurgitation were just a little too produced the sudden onset once his eyes had picked out the stranger a little too convenient, but for what? He didn’t know, could think of little reason other than the man wished to hide some personal interest. Was he afraid of being caught near Loveless? Of being recognized? The idea that that the stranger may have been watching him did pass briefly through Sebastian’s mind but this suspicion was discarded as, somewhat unsteady the fellow approached on wobbly legs. “Hey you got a few coins to spare for a man down on his luck?” The words came out as a low slur below unfocused eyes. Now that he was in full view Sebastian observed the man to be a tall fellow of middle years. He was lean with gnarled knuckles and a lop sided grin. Long oily black hair draped from a pronounced widows peak melting almost seamlessly into a drooping beard. He exuded and an overall sensation of uncleanliness, however his plan workmen’s clothing fitted comfortably and his breath lack the sour stench of excessive alcohol. Sebastian raised an inquiring eye brow but didn’t press the man for his odd presentation. The stranger stopped a comfortable distance away looking dead eyed with a strand of droll clutching to his beard. If he was a thief waiting to strike there was still plenty of room for Sebastian to react in defenses. His back was to a two story wall and his vision open to all approaching angles. So unless this man had a comrade willing to risk a jump from above there’d be no surprise attack. “No coins stranger, best you move along before some rag mistakes you for a mark.” As a general principle Sebastian refrained from supporting the incapacitating addictions of others. They weren’t simply harmful to one’s self, but bereft the community of any contribution which could be made by a whole and healthy individual. There was of course nothing wrong with a little indulgence here and there and there was also the occasional special circumstance. However Sebastian wasn’t completely convinced this man was even drunk. There was something strange going on through and the sooner the fellow wondered home the better. He hadn’t lied though about dangerous people with an eye for easy pickings and they man’s clothes if nothing else would be worth a few coins. “That’s a nice ax you got there.” The stranger droned weaving forward only to over correct himself in a stumbling sidestep. For just a second Sebastian thought he’d seen a calculating glint in the stray’s hooded eyes, but with the sudden movement he couldn’t be sure. “Yes it is.” He replied in a neutral tone slipping the battle ax out of the belt loop and simple leather cap that served as a sheath. He laid the smooth dark wood across his knee touching a hand over its wrapped leather grip but maintaining an exterior of ease while his eyes sharpened in warning. Becoming tired of the conflicts and wolfish stares of his neighbors he’d started displaying the weapon some days ago. The results while not completely neutralizing him as possible pray had cut down on the numbers considerably, and while Madame Zanna didn’t approve of weapons within her establishment ever she had to admit costumer compliancy improved within the ax’s presence. “What’s that?” The man squinted in an almost exaggerated show of focus. “I think it’s broken. Gotta hole in it.” Sebastian didn’t need to look down to know what the fellow was talking about. His weapon while simple was of elegant design with only the barest of flamboyance shown in a slightly flared blade and the narrow arrow shaped slit cut into it. “It’s suppose to be like that.” He replied tapping a finger against the metal. “Makes the blade sing as it cuts.” The man was starting to get on his nerves; even more so as he couldn’t pin point why. He’d conversed with plenty of drunks and people on who knows what but for some reason… Ah maybe he was just tired, or on edge from Assara. Still Sebastian wanted the guy gone, and Zanna didn’t approve of rif raft hanging around her business, said it drove away the more prized customers. Seeing a pile of wood stacked for feeding Loveless’s massive fire place he gave a foreboding smile as an idea struck. “Here I’ll show you.” Trying to appear casual without letting the man leave his sight Sebastian walked over to the wood pile, grabbed a good size piece and placed it atop a large chopping stump. Keeping his body facing towards the stranger he let his eyes drop a moment in preparation before swinging the ax in a two handed arch. The blade did indeed whistle as it came down biting deep into the woods core. The ax itself had an easy weight and Sebastian a strong arm, but he was far from a master and while the cut was impressive in its deepness the blade had gone off to the right in a hesitant hitch brought on during the swing’s beginning. But such details would only reveal themselves to the truly observant. To the common eye the blow would be impressive indeed. Another and the piece was split in twine. Sebastian cleared the block with a light sweep of the ax then set the man with a hard look. “Now why don’t you get home. Never know what sort of unsavory folk might be posing as with a friendly face.” The man blinked bleary eyed but seemed to take the hint in a bob of the head and spine. “Yeah. Suppose you’re right. You never know.” With another unsteady bow he turned and shuffled off into the night leaving Sebastian to ponder after his strange behavior. Decided that whatever the man’s story it wasn’t any of his business and better left to the wind Sebastian shrugged and slipped the leather cap over his ax before dropping it back through the loop hanging from his belt. There would always be another story, but right now he had work to do. Turning the painted door’s bronzed curved handle he slipped back into Loveless and the music within.