Xxerth
The Bastard
Posts: 771
(12/22/04 5:33 pm)
68.47.44.44
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Separation
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<font color=red>Neseraph couldn't sit down; there was simply too much going through his mind for him to remain static for too long. As a result, he was pacing methodically around his and Vivante's round table in the Inn's bar room. He would pace one way for several minutes, stop for a few seconds, then turn around and start pacing the other way, and this process had been going on for a couple hours now.
His mind was plagued with myriad thoughts.
--Neseraph was a tall man with thick white hair down to nearly his shoulders and eyes that were an uncomfortable shade of blue. His boots, trousers, and sleek longcoat were all black in hue, and he wore his gray tunic tucked into his pants.--
The few others that were in the Inn's dimly lit bar room paid the pacing Neseraph little attention, save for the red-headed female barkeep who was alert; one too many a bar fight broke out due those brooding types.
And Neseraph, of course, was too concerned and preoccupied with housing his thoughts to pay any attention to them, and much less drink his own ale that was sitting unappreciated on the table.
It had been several days since Bishop had died. After teleporting from the burning museum, Neseraph, Insera, and Vivante had spent a few hours roaming around Serendipity looking for a cemetary to bury him in. When they failed to find one, Insera made a quiet suggestion to bury Bishop where it all had started: In the Nomads Forest. When the travel, burial, and last respects were done and over, the aimless trio found their way back to the village of Serendipity. At least between Neseraph and Insera, a lingering and growing air of despair, apathy, and loss of purpose was settling in. What could they do? They had failed in their mission to protect Bishop Keller, and he was central to Grizrend's plan to rectify the nasty situation in the present...their time. They still hadn't told Grizrend what had happened either; he attempted to contact the two once, but his call was ignored, and so far, he hadn't tried again.
They were damned to their fate now and they knew it.
Neseraph and Insera still hadn't seen or heard from Nazune either. It was no stretch of a possibility that she was dead as well, probably found and killed by the Hellsend or even the Godsend. If it were so, that would leave them as the only two remaining: They would only have each other, and they were slowly falling apart and breaking away from one another.
And Neseraph knew it too. After Bishop's burial and the trio's subsequent return to Serendipity Village, Insera had been growing quieter, colder, and more reclusive; she was gradually spending less time with Neseraph and Vivante and more time locked away in her own room. Hell, he had been talking more with Vivante the past couple days than with Insera.
This sort of behavior was highly uncharacteristic of Insera; something had deeply affected her, and tonight, Neseraph was planning on finding out just what it was. He couldn't afford to lose Insera, and he knew that she couldn't afford to lose him.
Neseraph arrived at that part in his cycle of pacing and stopped for a moment. His eyes trailed down to his neglected mug of ale on the table, and he couldn't help but contemplate on whether or not to drink it. On one hand, getting plastered right before confronting Insera about her issue had its benefits: if she blew up on him, at least he'd wake up sometime later and think it was just a bad dream and that he fell out of his bunk. On the other hand, getting plastered right before confronting Insera about her issue had its downfalls: he'd probably waltz into the room smelling like a drunk, talking like an idiot with a bad slur, thinking like a hormone driven high-schooler, and teetering like an unsteady tower.
....
He decided that it was best to go into that room with a clear head and healthy liver.
Neseraph slipped a hand into his longcoat pocket; he might be drinking before going to speak with Insera, but he'd be god-damned before he stepped in there with getting a few smokes in first.
He felt the pack of cigarettes in his pocket - his last pack, he knew. Neseraph withdrew the pack from his pocket with the matches already in his other hand.
....
Neseraph was disappointed at what he saw inside the pack: Not a single cigarette to calm his nerves. Damn.
He crumbled up the empty pack in an annoyed fashion and slipped the trash back into his pocket along with the matches, then began pacing around the table again.
The red-haired barkeep caught eye of Neseraph and his failure to procure a cigarette. She shook her head slightly as she was cleaning a mug; all the drug addicts came in at night, and they all had one thing in common.
They were hopeless. </font>
Nightcandle
Satanized for your protection
Posts: 1414
(12/23/04 3:44 pm)
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<- Vivante
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Vivante watched Neseraph stalk around the table, occasionally taking a drink from his ale. It'd been a long time since he had something to drink, but since they got back to Serendipity after burying Bishop he and Neseraph had been in a bar every night. Every night Vivante would get one ale and slowly drink it down while watching Neseraph or the other patrons. Sometimes he would talk with Neseraph, though Vivante wasn't exactly the best conversationalist.
During their trip to the Nomads forest, Vivante braided his hair (which was, to his mild dissapointment, now white with two stripes of cyan again) to keep it from getting snagged in the foilage and now it was coiled once around his neck, the end piled in his lap. The buriza was next to the ale on the table, ever since the incident at the museum Vivante was a little edgier than usual. That long haired woman killed Bishop so easily and he couldn't think of a reason she wouldn't eventually target Neseraph and In-Sera. When that moment came he didn't want to be caught unaware...
Neseraph and In-Sera didn't seem to think that way though. In-Sera just wanted to be alone, which really seemed to bug Neseraph, causing him to pace around in bars. At least he was prepared though, he could protect them when the long haired woman came after them again. He still wanted to learn a few combat techniques from In-Sera and she needed Neseraph, they were a team.
He took another pull from his ale and watched Neseraph stop and look at his own mug, which had been ignored since it was served. Vivante would have ignored his own if Neseraph hadn't bought it for him. Neseraph wanted him to drink, if he didn't want to drink the ale he bought himself that was his business. Neseraph then pulled a paper box and some matches from his pockets, got annoyed with the paper box and shoved both back in his pockets before resuming his pacing.
Vivante felt it was an oppertune time to clean the daggers he carried. He pulled one out of his boot, then pulled a rag and a little bottle of clear liquid from a pocket in his black longcoat. He drizzled a little of the clear liquid on the rag and set to cleaning the blade.