Dreams and Change (Solo)

[Sulavik]

60th Winter 510AV "Father, Uncle. There is no easy way to say this. Just know that it is not something that I have decided to spring on you as a joke, nor is it something that I had not thought through. This is something that has been an issue for a couple of years now, and that is only conciously. There has always been something there, subconciously, I suppose. But who knows." Sulavik was sitting in his uncle's office, and it was the moment of true relevation. It was here where Sulavik spoke the words that would genuinely shape his future, for good or ill. He had to say this. He had to tell someone, before he went insane with the knowledge, the realisation, that was weighing on his mind. "I am gay. I won't be having children. The Vakarion line ends with me. I am sorry." A moment of pure silence, that heavy silence which is unbearable, when someone knows something is going to happen but nothing has yet. The silence where you know that what happens next would change everything forever. There was no outburst of anger. Nor was there affirming accepting words from family. Instead there was hysterical laughter, the sort of laughter where one cannot stop laughing for no reason in particular, everything in the world is suddenly hilarious. Sulavik jumped on his chair, wondering if this was the moment of insanity - for he had surely expected it for the past couple of months, the insanity inherent in his decision to tell his family. Raising his head to survey his father and uncle's faces, to see if they heard the laughter too, he was met with an astounding sight. The laughter was not from Sulavik's mind. It was from his uncle's mouth. Even a few moments of watching the mirth pour from his uncle's lips was too much. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, everything took place in slow motion. His uncle's lips, his mouth, moving slowly as he clutched at his stomach, sides splitting as the laughter became too much, though he could not stop. Sulavik stood, slowly, and drew himself to his full height, ready to defend his own decision and his sexuality from his uncle, when the hysterical man before him raised an arm, outstretched it and pointed one quivering finger at him. No. No, his uncle could not point at him accusingly. No, his uncle could not burst into hysterics at Sulavik's admission. No, his uncle could not be alive. Sulavik's ears were filled with a buzzing noise, his vision became blurry and spotted with black, his head thumped and pounded with adrenalin rushing through his brain. He was not Sulavik any more, he was not the son of Yasij anymore, he was not the nephew of Jelis. He was pure rage, pure fiery passion, and his uncle's mocking mirth demanded retribution. He was not Sulavik. He was Makil. With a cry of rage, with pure precision in Makil's mind though it happened too swiftly for the unaware Jelis to comprehend, he sprung forward, bellowing with incoherent rage and anger and everything dangerous. His Lakan was pulled from its station at his hip and with two speeding strikes which Makil was not even concious of making, red spurted into the air and covered Makil's front. His uncle's throat was sliced in two. His uncle had been served. His uncle was dead. Makil stood panting, still full of rage and yet with none of the fiery motivation left in his veins. The red the trickled down his Lakan and onto his arms pleased him, and tentatively, gently, he brought it to his lips and suckled at a running drop of blood. Makil closed his eyes and savoured it, not the taste but the warmth, the essence, the meaning of what he had done. And then, suddenly, so gently it did not seem entirely real, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back until his back was touching his father's chest. Before he could react, almost lovingly, the blade of his father's Lakan drew across his neck. Makil was aware of the initial impact, the sharp prick below his jawline. but as the blade dug in deeper and slit his windpipe in half, he lost sight of everything. Makil was gone, and Sulavik was not even aware of his own passing. The both of them - the old and the new - were dead.

[Sulavik]

Makil woke up, sweating and sitting bolt upright with a cry of pure rage. It was habit that he slept with his Lakan on his bedside table, and he fumbled for it, unsheathing it and brandishing it as his father and uncle. They were standing at the edge of the bed, smiling mockingly down at him. His father nodded at him, as if merely greeting him after an absence of a day or so. Uncle Jelis smiled jovially at him, boisterously calling him "Boy!" and rambling on about the third tier of Riverfall, for some reason Makil could not quite figure out. But it did not matter, there was no way that Makil would listen to these pretenders, these hypocrites. They declared to be his family, but they were nothing of the sort. They did not accept him, they did not love him for who he was, and wasn't that what family was supposed to do. With a growl of anger, he attempted to get out of his tangled sheets, wrestling fiercely with them until he fell out of his bed onto the hard wooden floor with a bang and a curse. Hysterical laughter again graced his ears, his uncle laughing at him the same way he had that day he kept dreaming about. The same buzzing that had overcome Makil the last time overcame him again. It was the sound of persistent rage, goading him into violence, daring his Lakan to cut through the softness of skin and coat its cool blade in the warmth of life. It was the sound that made Makil make his way to his feet and rush towards his uncle. "Stop laughing and STAY DEAD!" He yelled with anger and passion laced within his voice. He stabbed his Lakan forward, bringing it down and stabbing his uncle in the eye, slicing through the bone diagonally to reach the jaw on the opposite side of his face. Blood swirled out from his uncle's eye as the entire image shivered and swirled away into nothingness. Makil closed his eyes, and Sulavik opened his. There was no one there. His uncle was not laughing at him anymore, nor would he ever do so again. He had to get out of the damn room. He had to get out into Ravok. He had to get away from Makil. He wanted to have his own soul back, his whole soul. Makil. Go away for the day. Shut up. I do not even want to know you're there, understand me? Or I will make you pay. Makil did not answer - a wise move. Sulavik shrugged on his black cloak, simple and reaching to the floor, and stepped out of the room. Fresh air did wonders at restoring sanity, he heard.

[Sulavik]

Sulavik slammed the door to his room, needing to get out, not bothering to complete his usual routine of making the bed and shutting the window. It could all wait, everything could wait. Nothing was so important as getting out of that tiny little room, suffocatingly small. He hurried down the three flights of stairs, tripping on a couple in his haste - his height made it awkward to regain balance - and rushing out through the foyer with barely a nod to Tarsin. Tarsin would hardly be paying attention though - the man was busy. A wave of fresh air hit him and suddenly everything seemed to be that less drastic. There were no illusionary uncles, no illusionary fathers, no illusionary anything. Everything was as it should be. Looking at one of the streets that led off to the harbour, he walked towards it briskly. He had not tried this street before, it seemed a likely escape now. The stares at his height and colour did little to discomfort anymore, those few days in the city enough to acclimatise him. He was sure that someday, sooner rather than later, something unpleasant would come from those stares, but as of this moment, it didn't really matter. The alley way he walked through was rather dark and stank, which was as much as you could expect from an alley way in Ravok, though the view on the other side of it was worth it. Sulavik took a deep breath as he stepped out of the crowded corner of the Nitrovian Plaza and out into the Ravokian Shipyard. He could not make his way right to the end of the piers to see the water, as the fortified nature was far too intimidating for Sulavik to try and get around. But he could see the edges of Lake Ravok, quiet at this time of the morning when everything was still a hazy pink from the sun. The traffic on the water was slow, only a few barges idling across the surface. It was a calming and refreshing sight, and Sulavik welcomed it. It had been over a season since his uncle had died at his hands, and yet dreams and visions still plagued him. The dreams were regular, the visions not so. The visions, those oh so real visions that only dissipated when Makil calmed down and ration and Sulavik returned. He had no doubt in his mind, even divided as it was, that Uncle Jelis had deserved such a fate. He had deserved a gruesome death, he had deserved to have his throat slit and life pour out of him. He felt Makil's pleasure at the image, and the more he dwelt on it, the more that pleasure transferred to Sulavik himself. Yes, the fate was deserved. As was his father's, when it came to him. He was hardly unreasonable, he was merely achieving balance. Balance was essential. Makil and Sulavik had it, and now it was time for his father to die, achieving balance within Sulavik's family - the old and the new generations. Uncle and Father, and Sulavik and Makil. Balance was essential, and vengeance was too. Drawing attention was not his aim, and so Sulavik moved from his spot in the middle of the road, looking through to the water. He moved a couple of paces to the left of the guardhouse that stood at the entrance to the shipyard, sitting and leaning against the bricked outer wall of the location. His long legs were pulled up to his chest, and Sulavik lay his head on his knees. It was here Solat found him for the first time.

[Sulavik]

Sulavik was roused by the voice of someone interupting. "Hey, are you alright? You might ‎want to move on, superiors won't be too happy if they see you hanging around here - either ‎with me or you." He lifted his head slowly to glare at the interrupter of his doom and gloom ‎mood. He had successfully got Makil to stay away for the day, but it seemed he could not ‎keep out the world - no matter how much he wanted to. His eyes raised to survey the ‎newcomer, bloodshot and narrowed. He was young, barely a man, and human. His skin was fair ‎as his hair, but it was the eyes that drew Sulavik - they were a blue green, piercing and full of ‎sympathy for Sulavik. He leaned out the window of the guard house to talk to Sulavik. All the ‎bite that he had planned flew out the window. He smiled bitterly at the man. "Do I look like ‎I'm alright? Akalak, alone in Ravok, sitting by himself outside the Ravokian Shipyard. Yeah, ‎I'm just fine and dandy."‎ The man above him looked hesitant, as if he was wary of getting involved with a bitter blue ‎stranger. Sulavik would not blame him if he was, and he supposed he did feel a little guilty for ‎yelling the man. It’s not like he did anything wrong, Sulavik just decided that today was the ‎day to snap at everything and everyone. "Sorry. Bad day. Morning, even.” The human ‎leaned back in the guardhouse, checking down into the shipyard to see if his superior was ‎coming. It seemed there was no one there, for the human exited the guardhouse and came ‎and sat next to him. His curly haired head only reached to Sulavik’s shoulder. “What’s up? I’m ‎free to talk, guarding is boring anyway.”‎ Sulavik looked down at the man. He seemed genuinely interested, his eyes big and soulful. ‎His voice casually interesting and caring. Should he tell him? Of course not, it was stupid. He ‎didn’t need the abrasive Makil with him to know it was a mistake to tell some stranger your ‎life story, particularly in Ravok. The story of his uncle’s death, and his father’s hate, and the ‎delusions Makil had as a result? Probably not the best conversation starter. He shook his head ‎lightly at the man, as if signifying it did not matter. And he supposed it didn’t, he would get ‎over it soon enough. Nothing lasts forever. "No thanks, I’m right. Thanks for the offer ‎though.”‎ The man hummed in agreement, a throaty noise of compassion. He stood up and dusted off ‎his pants, getting ready to move off. He had walked a few paces, Sulavik never once taking his ‎eyes of this enigma of a kind man in Ravok, when he cleared his throat and turned around. ‎‎“Shit happens, man. Sorry it had to happen to you.” He nodded once, his eyes serious and his ‎voice understanding, and walked in silence back to the guardhouse. Sulavik watched ‎incredulously, astonished that the conversation was over so swiftly. The man, who had made ‎it back inside the tower and resumed his position, nodded at him out the window. “Off you ‎go. See you around.”‎ Aware this was a dismissal, Sulavik stumbled to his feet, tipping slightly to one side and his ‎tripped slightly. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, and lifted a hand in ‎acknowledgement. “Yeah. See ya.” He wandered off, disappearing back inside of the ‎alley way into the Nitrovian Plaza, wondering what had just happened. Whatever it was, it ‎made him feel a bit better.‎ ‎You can come back, now, Makil.‎ ‎Thank the Gods! Do you know how boring being silent is?‎ Sulavik just laughed.‎

[Sulavik]

64th Winter, 510AV It was the first time that Sulavik had been to the Silver Sliver Tavern at night, and it was almost overwhelmingly busy. Barmaids hustled to and fro, bearing full and empty tankards and being called to fulfill orders. Every so often a drunken man would give out to one of the girls jeeringly, tugging on her skirt, pulling it up yelling "Give us a peek, love!" The disgusting attitude of the human race. This would never happen in Riverfall. Women there, contrary to popular belief, were treated well. Sulavik was sitting in the corner table, having arrived early and had dinner, watching more and more people flock there after a day of work - official or otherwise. He reached to take a sip of his ale - he was yet to brave the nasty looking drink of silver sliver - when he noticed with a sigh the drink was empty. Upsetting. This wouldn't do. Surveying the two empty glasses on the table, he debated whether or not it was safe or responsible to get a third. Yes it is. Get the damn drink. Sulavik agreed. Another was necessary. He unsteadily rose to his feet and turned around, walking towards the crowded bar at the back wall. He tripped over his own feet slightly, which he seemed to be doing a lot lately, as he tried to navigate two buxom barmaid squeezing past either side of him. His hand shot out to grab the table nearest to him, steadying himself. Once his balance was regained, Sulavik felt a cooler, smaller hand shoot out and wrap around his wrist. Sulavik's heart jumped, wondering if perhaps this was the unwanted attention that he had been waiting for ever since he had arrived in Ravok. His head snapped around, wincing at the way his neck cricked. The hand was pale, and the wrist was stick thin, with lanky long fingers. The touch was not unpleasant. Sulavik followed the line of the arm, the weak arm with no muscles, to see the face. It was with a jolt of pleasant surprise that Sulavik recognised the face which was smiling quietly, amusedly at him. It was the gentle man from the docks who had been there that morning. Sulavik smiled automatically at the man, his face breaking out into a grin, and he was reassured to see the same joyful grin on the man before him. "Hi blue man. Don't fall over now." Sulavik laughed a little, and scratched the back of his neck. "I'll try my best. It's, uh, it's Sul--" Before he could finish his sentence, he was jostled by a barmaid. "Do you mind, trying to work here, and your big blue butt is taking up half the tavern!" Makil was angry at the impertinent comment, though Sulavik was far more preoccupied with looking once more at the captivating man. He nodded once at Sulavik, as if granting permission to leave, his eyes seeming kind and gentle. "Run along then. Don't get eaten up by Ravok." The man's hand released his, and Sulavik turned to the bar maid, muttering an apology. It was as he walked away that he noticed the man at the table with three other men, all burly and human, leaned in together across the table and muttering. The man looked away from the group, and saw Sulavik watching him from where he was standing at the bar. Before Sulavik could look away embarrassed, the man sent a sparkling wink at him and quickly looked away. Really? REALLY? Yes, really, be quiet now. Sulavik saw an open stool at the bar and dove for it before anyone else could secure it. He was successful. He settled in, glad to have easier access to the bar and the ale. Though, every time he looked into the golden liquid of the drink, he saw blue green eyes winking back at him.

[Sulavik]

The bar had settled down, and now only the more shady characters were hanging around ‎the place, conversing and plotting in half lit corners. It was ridiculously hilarious to the not ‎quite sober Sulavik, as he sat giggling sporadically at the dodgy looking men around the ‎tavern. His head was resting on his arms, which in turn were folded on the bar. He was ‎surrounded by one, two… five empty ale tankards and he had another in his hand. He sat ‎up, draining the rest of the glass with a sigh, slightly depressed at the lack of ale. It probably ‎wasn’t a great idea to get another. He did have to get home without being stabbed, after all.‎ As he was inspecting his empty class, comically licking out the ale from the inside of the ‎mug – something he would rather die before doing in front of other people, if he had been ‎sober – he felt someone tap him on the shoulder and clear their throat lightly behind him. ‎He sighed. It was probably someone coming to kidnap him and sell the big blue man into ‎slavery. If he was sober, he would have been terrified (but then, if he was sober, he wouldn’t ‎still be here) but as it was, he was merely irritated at the intrusion. He was trying to get the ‎last of the ale out of his tankard, damnit! With a growl he tugged out his Lakan and turned ‎towards the newcomer. “What the petch do you want, you petching helioc!”‎ His heart sunk as he saw the good looking man, standing there face peaceful and arms held out, as if to shield off the violent drunk Sulavik. "Woah there. Just me." Sulavik sheepishly put his Lakan away, swallowing nervously and setting his shoulders back. "Sorry, I thought you were... something else. Trying to eat me or something, I don't know." He giggled and hiccuped at the end of the sentence, sitting down onto the stool again with a loud thump. He leaned back, elbows resting on the bar counter, trying to look seductive. "So, what can I do for you?" The man rolled his eyes at Sulavik. "I just wanted to say hi. I'm Solat, 26 years old and working at the Shipyard. I'm single and a light drinker. Want to meet up tomorrow?" Solat did a little mock bow towards Sulavik, smiling charmingly. Sulavik's mouth dropped open. Someone wanted to go out with him? Him, the giant blue man who was currently inerbriated? Makil was equally as shocked. "You want to meet up with me?" Solat laughed lightly at Sulavik, evidently amused by his shock. "Yes, I do. I can't stay long, my boss is waiting for me." He gestured behind him at the three intimidating men who were waiting at the door with scowls on their faces. He assumed the one in the middle was the boss, being taller and slightly in front of the other two men. "I have to run. Tomorrow, at ten, the shipyards? Bye." Flashing Sulavik one last grin and wink, he began to walk off, Sulavik still sitting there in silent shock. He turned back a couple of seconds later. "Hey, blue boy," he called, searching to maintain eyecontact with Sulavik. Sulavik cleared his throat slightly and nodded. "What's your name?" Sulavik was roused from his slightly vacant stare as his eyes locked with Solat's. "It's Sulavik." Solat nodded once and smiled. "Sulavik. Huh. Nice name." Waving once more, he ran off to join the three men waiting for him. They pushed him out the door, him obviously making feeble excuses as to why he was talking to Sulavik. Before the door closed on the four of them, Sulavik caught one last wink and eye twinkle from the man. So. They were meeting up tomorrow, at 10. Good job Sulavik. You finally got your first date. Sulavik smiled slightly, picking himself up and getting ready to stroll back to Tarsin's Boarding House for a good, preparatory night's sleep. Thanks, Makil.

[Sulavik]

65th Winter Sulavik had not been this nervous for a long long time. All of a sudden, he felt like he had switched genders. It was his first date, and he was acting like a nervous girl meeting up with a suave, charming man. In essentialness, this was true. He may not have been a girl, but he was nervous and he was meeting up with a suave, charming man. You are the girliest Akalak I have ever met. It is absolutely ridiculous. Makil, shut the petch up. You're just jealous because you're not getting any snatch. Well, you're not getting any ass, either! You're a dick. You wish. Anyway, I have guidelines for today. Oh Gods, here we go. First, do not tell the man you're a gay prostitute. The poor man does NOT need to know that. But what if he asks what I do? I can't very well ignore him. Make some shit up. Tell him you're a petching pony breeder, or something, I don't care. Just do NOT say you're a prostitute. Fine. Loser. Poof. Second, do not kiss him. I do not need to see that. I do not need to FEEL that. Understand? I might not even get kissed. I doubt I will. I'm not that special. I know you're not. You're not going to get kissed. Just covering all bases. You're a petching helioc, Makil. I know, I know. So are you. And finally, Sulavik, please. Don't get too close to him. Fine.

[Sulavik]

It was with trembling hands that Sulavik locked his door and turned to go down the flights of stairs to hike the way down to the lobby. He felt Makil's skeptism. Sulavik couldn't care less what Makil thought right about now - he was going on his first ever date. And it was with a really attractive bloke. Life was awesome right now. Tripping once again on the third step of the second flight of stairs - he should really stop doing that - he made his way through the lobby of Tarsin's Boarding House with the full intention of making his way through the Nitrozian Plaza and out into the alley which led to the Shipyards, when he halted suddenly in his tracks. There, lounging against the wall beside the door way, was a grinning handsome Solat. Sulavik paused, not entirely sure of what he should do. Did he keep up the jaunty walking, did he walk with purpose now, did he try and walk seductively? Why were there so many different ways of walking, anyway? Why couldn't one just walk? But he digressed. The issue still stood of Solat leaning sexily against the wall. Woah... sexily? Sulavik's stepped faltered, but he powered ever on towards the man, swallowing nervously as he ran a hand through his hair. He stopped nervously in front of the man and nodded at Solat, his words seemingly failed. "Hi, Bluey." Sulavik laughed awkwardly at the name, and made to correct him. "It's Sul--" Solat quickly made to cut him off. "It's Sulavik, I know. But hey, if we're going to be friends, we've gotta have nicknames." Solat stood up from the wall, his arms still crossed. "Shall we?" Sulavik followed a step behind Solat as they walked out of the lobby and into the bustling plaza. He wanted to be friends with him! If Sulavik was entirely honest with himself, he'd never been particularly close with anyone. A friend sounded good. With all the obsessing over whether or not Solat wanted to be his friend, he felt like a five year old girl. Not that he knew what that felt like, but there you go. Sulavik looked up as they waltzed into the alley that ran down towards the shipyards. He had not guessed they would go there. He had thought, perhaps, that once met at the shipyards, they would go somewhere ... well, somewhere a bit romantic. He voiced his opinions nervously, not wanting to offend the attractive man. "Uh, Solat... why are we going to the Shipyards?" Solat paused, and waited for Sulavik to make those last couple of steps. Looking up at him, he laughed. "Isn't that what people do on first dates? Reminese about the times they first met?" Solat's gleeful face made Sulavik pause. This was a date? Or was it just... friends hanging out? Why were these things so complicated? Because you overreact like a bitch on heat. Makil... go away. He followed Solat demurely, a clear balance in power already emerging. Solat walked a little ways further than they had been last time. He collapsed on the foot of the wall and looked up at Sulavik expectantly, as if to say 'come and join me in my boudoir' with a sexy grin on his face. Sulavik felt his own lips quirk into a smile, and so he collapsed all gangly limbs flying everywhere next to Solat, legs stretched out in front of him. "Hi there, Bluey." "Hi there... humany?" BAHAHAHA. Shut up. You are the worst flirter ever. Sulavik was trying his best not to notice the amused grin on Solat's face. "Humany? I like it. But not really, get a better name." He rested a hand on Sulavik's hand temporarily, as if reassuring, and Sulavik felt his heart speed up exponentially. Pathetic.

[Sulavik]

Having flopped on the ground pathetically, Sulavik had no idea what to do now. Thoughts ran round and round in his brain, him having absolutely no clue what to say to the man. He realised belatedly that he had never held a proper conversation with Solat, nor did he know anything about him. What did one usually do in this situation? Cover up the awkwardness by thrusting your tongue in his mouth. Gods, Makil. Must you be so sex focused? Yes. "So, Sulavik. What's up?" Sulavik turned his head slowly to Solat, unsure of how to respond. Solat knew precisely what was up. He was the one who had asked him on this date, not date, whatever the petch it was. Solat was causing him so much confusion, Sulavik's brain was on overload so much that he blurted out the first thing that came into his head. "Well, waiting for you to say something." Sulavik turned bright red, though with his skin, his blush came up as a deep purple - making it all the more obvious to the human that he was embarrassed. "Good call, man. Good call." Ask him why he asked you out. Because Sulavik was confused enough already, he dazedly did precisely what Makil said. Why he was taking advice from straight Makil who had also never been on a date, he did not know. "So, why did you ask me out? As soon as he said that, he regretted it. Why on Earth would he say that? Was he trying to scare the poor man away? Luckily, Solat did not seem so disturbed. Smiling, he once again took Sulavik's hand. "Hey, you're nice. You're cute. You seem like a great guy. Can't blame a bloke for wanting to get to know him!" He squeezed Sul's hand, and then moved his own hand to his thigh, tracing a circle, smiling all the while at the nervous Sulavik. The conversation eased after that. It was everything a normal date should be. They talked for a couple of hours, about everything and anything. Sulavik did not mention his job or his family, though Solat was free about that (he worked for the docks under Kelon, his boss, with two other men, and his mother and father died in the Wildlands whilst moving from Syliras). Solat asked his favourite colour, his favourite past time, everything and anything that popped into his head. It got to the point when Solat would fire off questions and Sulavik would blurt out whatever would pop into his head first. It did not occur to Sulavik that Solat learnt more about him than he learnt about Solat. Sulavik was chatting on about how he learnt to speak Common so well when he was halted by Solat raising a hand. Sulavik's voice died down, disappointed. Solat smiled reassuringly at him, almost as if he too was upset he was cutting Sulavik off. "Sul, I'm sorry. We've been here for a while now, and I told Kelon I'd meet him in the Tavern." Sulavik's face must have dropped, for Solat chastised him gently. "Hey, I'm upset too. I loved talking to you." Solat got up and brushed the dirt from his trousers. To Sulavik's pleasure, he reached out a hand to help Sulavik up. Sul took the hand for support, but mainly used his strong legs to push himself up. He doubted Solat could pull up a seven foot strong Akalak. "Thanks," Sulavik said, smiling. "No problem," Solat said, still holding Sulavik's hand. "Here, I'll walk you back to the boarding house." "Thanks," Sulavik said again. He really couldn't think of anything to say around this man. It was good Solat was talkative, otherwise the "date", if it could be called such, would be extremely awkward. They walked in silence back through the alleyway and into the Nitrozian Plaza. It was here Solat dropped his hand, as they walked back into the real world and away from their light little bubble. His hand tingled with the loss of warmth, but he flashed a smile at Solat to show he understood. They walked over to Tarsin's Boarding House, about to reach the doorway when Solat tugged Sul by the arm into a side alley. They walked down to the end quickly, as far as possible from the public eye. It was dark, dank and smelly here, but Sulavik paid hardly any attention. It was all focused on the man before him. Hey, this is like with Aello... Dirty thoughts, Makil. Gross. Except, not so gross if you replace Aello with Solat. Now you're being gross. "I had fun today, Sulavik," Solat murmured, smiling up at him. "I wanted to say goodbye here, not in the public eye." Solat placed a hand on Sulavik's arm, moving it to his shoulder. He tugged at the shoulder, and uncertain, Sulavik crouched his knees so that he bent down. Quickly, like a dart, Solat leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Before Sulavik could respond, he began to walk away. Sulavik was still standing there dazed and confused when Solat turned back to him, face serious. "Sulavik," he began, voice soft from a couple of paces away that Sulavik had to strain to hear it. "I'm not a nice man. I work for Kelon outside of the Shipyards. Kelon lends out money, and I..." Solat choked, as if saying this pained him physically. Sulavik's heart went out to the man. "You what, Solat? You can tell me." Sulavik moved forward a couple of paces, outstretching his arm for Solat to grab a tight hold of his hand, which he did. "I break knees. Of the people who don't pay their money. I am so sorry Sul, I didn't really want to tell you, but I felt guilty you not knowing." Sulavik was disgusted by the concept, absolutely disgusted, but as Solat made to tug his hand away, he gripped his wrist harder to prevent him from turning away. "I hate that that's what you do, Solat. That's absolutely disgusting, and I will do everything I can to stop you." Here Sulavik took a deep breath, and Solat took it as an opportunity to begin speak, quickly. "I hate it too, Sul, I do. But Kelon has a grip on me, and if I pulled away, I'd be dead." Sul quickly placed a kiss on Solat's forehead, embarrassed at his boldness. "It's okay, I understand. I understand because..."Another deep breath, and he could feel Makil's rising anticipation and discouragement. "I'm a prostitute. I work for the House of Immortal Pleasures. I too do something I hate, something I cannot pull away from." Sulavik smiled down at Solat, and Solat managed a watery smile in return. He reached up and gave Sulavik a tight, brief hug, before releasing him. "I have to go. Kelon will be angry." Solat jogged down the alley and before he disappeared, he lifted a hand and farewelled Sulavik. He ran around the corner and he was gone. You broke all of my rules. I don't care.

[Sulavik]

67th Winter 510AV It was the early hours of the morning, and Sul would have to get up soon anyway. Though at that point, he was enveloped in a pleasant dreamless sleep, though as ever, flashes of his uncle's voice rambling on about Cyphrus and Riverfall and all manner of things flashed through his brain. This occassion, however, the dreams were soothing, his uncle's voice a melodic tick in the background, keeping Sul in the realms of the night until he woke up in the morning. However, Sulavik's relatively peaceful sleep was interrupted by a loud, cliche banging at the door. Adventures in tales always started like this, and so the first thought that jumped into Sulavik's mind was that a wrinkled hag would be standing outside the door with a one of a kind flower that transported him into the deep recesses of space. He sat bolt upright, to see a blank envelope slipped under the door. Grabbing his Lakan, he moved silently to the door and looked under the gap at the bottom, where he saw two sets of retreating heels. By the time he had drawn his Lakan however, and stood up to open the door slowly, the two men had gone. Puzzled, he looked down and opened the blank envelope. Inside, there was a simple, white piece of paper with the following words scrawled on it. Dearest Sulavik, It is with our deepest regrets that we ask you to stay away from Solat. If you do not comply with our wishes, you may find your own knees broken. Our kindest regards, K&B&T Sulavik felt a chill run down his spine. There was no way he was staying away from Solat, no way in hell. Tell him about it. See what he thinks. Petch, you're an idiot sometimes. Sulavik would do just that. Tomorrow, he would go to the Shipyard, hoping that there would be no one beside Solat on guard. Solat would know who it was, and what they could do. And he could give Sulavik advice. Ravok was already proving strange.