Month: May 2014

A pair of twins were sitting at a bar. In another world this would probably be a good opening for a joke, but while Fernand might have been able to see the hilarity, his uptight brother was less than enthusiastic to be where he was.

“We didn’t come here to party,” Francois sighed unhappily, his tanned face twisted into a tired frown. A drink sat in front of him, but he contented himself in watching the ice melt. Fernand rolled his eyes, leaning back on his elbows as he scanned the room. From their dark corner of the bar, they blended in enough for him to feel at ease. All he had to worry about were his eyes; they burned like melted gold through the shade. Francois was his exact mirror in opposites–hunched and facing away, his eyes down. He didn’t want to draw attention and this was wise.

“Would you relax?” Fernand rolled his eyes and gave a light laugh. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Francois wanted to say that a lot could happen. Someone could notice them, word could get back to the Princess–or worse, the King regent–and they could go to jail. They could be executed. But Fernand had insisted that this place was too dark. No respectable Lician would let themselves be found there. As long as they kept to themselves, who was going to talk? And it wasn’t as if they were (currently) breaking any laws. They’d been in (and come out of) worse situations in the past. Nonetheless Francois remained unconvinced and sour about the whole “fun” adventure.

“You could have at least worn a disguise,” he hissed. Fernand laughed again, but this time it was more of a disbelieving bark.

“Look at you, calling all the shots,” he returned, “if you’re so nervous you should have been the one to put on a disguise! I’m tired of being the one to always do it. It’s not comfortable, as you know. I wouldn’t mind some time to actually be, well, me.”

Francois couldn’t argue against that point. It also made him feel guilty, despite himself. They always switched off when they worked. Sometimes they’d take a week or so before they switched, but Fernand had been stuck playing Edouard for longer than he’d ever been before. It was unfair. Francois had made excuses to stay as he was–and why he’d done it he wasn’t sure. His mind drifted to the Princess, sitting by his side as the poison raced through his system, their hands touching ever-so-lightly when he had visited her in her garden, holding her close in a dance at the opening ball for the school.

When he thought about her, the women who sauntered around the club, their skirts short and hair up high, became invisible. Francois hadn’t even touched his drink but looking down at it, he felt sick. Beside him, Fernand had changed the subject, but Francois hardly heard him talk of the white-haired young man who was attracting women like flies. How he wasn’t leaving any for the rest of them. Francois only started listening when Fernand nudged him with his elbow.

“…but I guess you only have your eyes on one set of legs, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Francois hissed, “you’re annoying.”

And then he was gone, his form flickering out of existence like a candle’s flame being snuffed. He reappeared on the roof, steadying himself against the ledge that overlooked the rest of the vast city and wondering why Fernand’s words had affected him so terribly. With a sigh he rubbed one hand over his face, suddenly tired. Or maybe he had been tired all night, but hadn’t given himself the chance to notice it. Either way, he wanted to leave. On one hand, Francois didn’t want to completely abandon his brother but on the other…maybe it would be safer. He could go hide in his room where nobody would look for him, and if Fernand ran into anyone they knew, it would be easier to stay in character without explaining why there were two of him.

Still, in comparison to the playful, harmless jab Fernand had made in regards to his feelings, Francois was left rattled. At least it felt nice out here, soothing, in the chilled air. It was nice that it did nothing to remind him of the humid climate he was used to back home. All he could find his mind focusing on was the Princess and he hated himself for it. What was she doing right now? What did it matter? Her hair loose, brushing against her cheeks in the breeze. Irrelevant. Was he really this lost? Francois had never been so obsessed with a job before.

((ooc: AVA okay I really wanted to get this up for you! But I know that it’s awful and probably completely wrong. I know I had a file with notes I was taking for this scene but I couldn’t find it anywhere in my documents and since we don’t often catch each other I had no idea when I’d be able to ask for your help in remembering what was supposed to go down. OTL. So I kind of just…winged it…I think we wanted Francois and Ala to meet on the roof? I remember we were trying to sort of recreate the Art/Malek/Ala interaction from the original rp on Gaia but I really can’t remember what we talked about and I’m so so sorry. I know I’m probably going to have to rewrite the whole thing once we have the chance to talk about it again BUT I hope…it still made you happy to read, regardless. ;u; Something is better than nothing? I love you and I hope you’re doing okay and that you see this ksbdfgsdfg thank you for understanding when I didn’t get it done last weekend; this weekend has been a lot better for me so I’ve been working on this since Friday.))

Malek looked around the club, feeling very much like he owned the place. He and his crowed had taken over one of the corner sitting areas. It wasn’t too far from the entrance that he wouldn’t be able to duck out when his guest arrived.

On either side, he had three lovely young women. All picked up along his day as needs arose: lunch, dinner, money to get into the joint, tits to stare at…that kinda thing. Malek’s idle mind amused itself by tickling the neck of one girl with the hair from another. Something about the alcohol and the atmosphere of the club made the women even more susceptible to his charm. Or maybe he just looked that damn good. He wasn’t gonna ask questions. It was still a while before Ava got there and he’d had quite enough of being bored on the glossy streets of Celeste City.

“Oh M. Tell us another one!” To be honest, he’d set two of the hotter looking girls to thinking that making out in front of him would result in a proposal – so it took a while for him to register the request. “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” He sighed dramatically. With the slight buzz he was feeling, Malek was not quite up to making up another heroic story of him saving the world from…rabies or whatever he’d said. He had to admit – he kind of liked this. His charm’s true use had become useful early on, but who knew he could have such fun with it too? Hell – he had half a mind to stay around this area and live off women. Not that this wasn’t what he’d been doing on the Outskirts…but the women here were a LOT hotter.

“Another drink, m’lady?” Malek whispered into the ear of a barmaid. His eyes glistened with mirth as she promptly handed him a beer from her serving tray, much to the offense of the older gentleman who’d ordered it. The moon-haired boy shrugged congenially; who was going to start anything with so many giggling babes around him?

Though his charm was in full effect, even he felt a need to keep his company entertained. “How about a trick?” Malek asked, sitting forward with his hands on his knees. The girls immediately agreed – settling into a hushed anticipatory silence. From the loop on his belt he drew the dagger that had only recently been launched towards his head. The half spellbound, half drunk women were easily impressed with his twirling of the dagger between and around his fingers. The pulsing lights and music lent a rhythm to his expert movements. He spun the edge of the blade on the tip of his finger (one of the girls crying out in fear of him spilling his precious blood.) Finally he launched the spinning blade in the air and caught it, upright between his teeth. Insert one signature sexy wink and he was being heartily applauded by his growing audience of beautiful females.

A guy could get used to this. Even the stupid one letter nickname doesn’t sound so bad comin’ from a herd of chicks. It hadn’t occurred to him that his lack of discretion would disturb the other patrons of the bar. Night clubs and places of the sort usually had more women than men running around and in Malek’s mind, he’d simply balanced out the ratio by gathering all the unwanted women of the night. It was a public service! Okay. So that was bull. The truth lay somewhere between there and just not giving a crap about whether the other guys in the joint had a pair to fondle or not. It was ballsy of the…whatever it was to complain. Ballsy and obnoxiously pretentious. Only in Celeste City would you find that particular combination on a boy who looked like he’d never worked a hard day’s labor in his life. It didn’t appeal to Malek’s sensibilities.

He really only half listened to the complaint/compliment launched at him. One of the women took the dagger and used it as an excuse to run her hand down his thigh as she slid it back into its loop at the front of his pants. “Aww.” He chuckled, draping both arms around the two sets of feminine shoulders at his sides. His platinum head came to a cocky tilt to look up at the dark skinned stranger.

“Not as much hospitality as you’d expect at home iddit? No o-ma to make it for you.” His dialect was distinctly Outskirt in that moment; draped in vestiges of a language lost long ago mixed with the hillbilly tendencies of laborers from border Deamone cities. “Don’chya think these beautiful ladies have better things to occupy their mind than whether or not you get your coffee?” Years with Ava had smoothed over his speech; she’d never been allowed nor allowed herself to pick up the rougher traits of the languages of the otuskirts. Her guardians had seen to that at least. She in turn had impressed upon him the importance of being able to sound like one hadn’t grown up in a pig stye (or above a warehouse for that matter.) If anything – his easy slip from ruffian into more gentile speech made Malek, “M” that much more attractive to his harem.

“Or was it companionship you were after ’cause I gotta warn ya buddy. I don’t bat for that team. I think there are special kinda clubs for that, ‘cha?” Feminine giggles fluttered thereafter, thanking the fates (out loud) that he was straight for then at least one of them had a shot. His hand found the rear end of the waitress who’d not too long ago almost provided him with a coffee that didn’t belong to him. “Make sure my friend here keeps gettin’ his drink, kay dollface?” Maybe it was a lifetime in the coddling arms of women – but Malek fully expected his slights and insults to be forgiven. Who could stay mad at a face like his anyway?

“Take a load off!” He declared, pulling one of the simpering women onto his lap to better allow her to feed him the strawberries he’d requested and to make room for the other male (one slightly more important than the other but you can decide which for yourself.) “I’m M and you are?” Better to use a stupid nickname than to give everything away to a stranger – he was, after all a thief.