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 Posted: Tue Jul 21, 2015 10:33 am
Jóna Halfway through her breakfast, a man at one of the other tables addressed her. She stifled a yawn behind her hand before answering, feeling much better to have something in her stomach. "Well, my people say this place is a gateway between worlds. That's about all I know, and it certainly seems to be true. I don't know how it works. My queen discovered it ages ago and lands her on occasion from different places," she replied, imparting as much knowledge as she had for his benefit. It wasn't much, she knew. "I'm Jóna," she offered, adjusting her skimpy alligator leathers as she became aware she was showing a little more skin than she wanted.
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Posted: Tue Jul 21, 2015 3:01 pm
~ Erryl ~ "Being born into the right family was my job, and my wage," Erryl says to Naomi in a dry voice. "I could have been the laziest, most selfish man alive, and I still would have inherited it all when my family died. I couldn't say with any certainty that I ever achieved anything that wasn't partially given to me." He shrugs his shoulders. "A great many of my class feel superior, but I don't tend to agree with them. I consider our class lucky, and nothing else." Shaking his head, he continues on to say, "As for feeling superior, we knew we were NOT superior, which is why we acted quickly and underhandedly to enslave those we felt threatened us." He leans forward slightly. "In short, there was no excuse for what my people did." At the very least, he hadn't been oogling Jóna with lusty eyes, and he didn't follow Naomi's gaze when she looked at the elven woman. In fact, he kept his eyes rather firmly averted from her form. Luckily Celestin was there to switch his attention to. "Strange appearances, you say? Any stranger than your own?" he asks the grey skinned, purple haired man. "And when you say magical, do you mean they use true magic? Or are they simply called magical because they live forever and look different?" "A gateway between worlds? I wonder how many there are," Erryl says to Jóna with a strained voice, still clearly not looking at her, although manners would dictate he should. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to surmise that he was torn between the rule of etiquette that states he should look at someone he is speaking to, and the rule of propriety that states one should not openly oogle a woman's revealed flesh in public.
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Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2015 3:19 pm
Naomi The elven woman's yawn sparked a yawn in Naomi, and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she gave in. She nodded acknowledgement at the woman's response. "Thanks. I thought as much. I'm Naomi." She glanced back to Erryl as Jóna adjusted her clothing. His gaze had returned to Naomi as he responded. "I'm sure you can accomplish something with your own power now that you realize your fortune. And, no, there never is an excuse." She sipped at the coffee again, less prone to grimacing after growing used to the bitterness. She hid her amused smile at the strained note in Erryl's voice. The man, obviously an upper class citizen, refused to look at Jóna, and it amused Naomi to no end. There had been a time when the sight of a less-clothed woman would have embarrassed her, but those were her childhood days. She wondered if it was embarrassment or unwanted desire that turned his gaze away from Jóna. ((OOC: Naomi is a woman, not a man.))
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 5:43 pm
~ Erryl ~ Unlike the two women, Erryl doesn't yawn, or even look like he's close to doing so. He gives Naomi a bitter smile. "My own power, hm?" His tone is almost threatening, but it's turned in on himself rather than towards Naomi. "I think that's an option better left explored." Stiffly he rises to his feet and bows to Naomi. Clasping his hands behind his back, he beings to pace, keeping carefully out of the way of any foot traffic; not wanting to hold anyone up from entering or leaving if they so wish.
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Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2015 10:23 pm
Jóna With her breakfast finished, Jóna looked around for a window to check on the position of the sun and hazard a time, finding none. Well, this place probably wasn't even on her own plane of existence. What if she was late? What if she was horribly late and her trials should have started. Her stomach sank. Uh-oh. Standing, she brushed crumbs off her lap, checked that she still had her knife, and apologized to the patrons she struck up small-talk with. "Sorry, but I have to head out." Did her voice just quaver? Burn it all. "So...yes...bye." Yakov had gotten as good a goodbye as he was going to get. Maybe she would see him again someday. She certainly hoped she survived long enough to do it. She hurried to the door and let herself back outside. Back into the swamp. Home. She winced. Sun was up. She was definitely late.
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Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2015 8:15 pm
Naomi Naomi uttered a quiet farewell to the strange elven woman who had suddenly looked panicked. The door shut behind her and Naomi turned to Erryl in time to catch his bitter smile and bow. She frowned as he began pacing. Had she agitated him with her statement? That hadn't been her intention at all, and she silently cursed herself. She absently stroked her braid with the sudden frustration at saying something stupid. "I didn't mean to offend you. Are you alright?" Her gaze trailed behind him with concern darkening her eyes. Stranger though he might be, she felt responsible for upsetting him.
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Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2015 8:25 pm
~ Erryl ~ The man stops in his paces, turning back towards Naomi. Again he bows, though the motion is less stiff this time around. "Apologizes," he says. "You couldn't have known. We met as strangers, after all. We all have our own burdens to bear, yes?" Quietly he sits himself back down. "I try to do small things to make the overall situation better, but I'm hardly brave, or strong, enough to take down the entire system. And so, instead, I feed a little into the system even as I disagree with it."
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 11:31 pm
Naomi Naomi shrugged. "Sometimes, we can only do little things. I can't do what I need to by myself, and-- you're a stranger, but I'll be frank-- it kills me. No matter what I do, it's not enough." She turned to stare at her cup of coffee, once again fiddling with the end of her braid. Her voice dropped in disappointment. "Trust me, I understand that frustration." TarnishedLily I'm so sorry! OwO;; I thought I already posted, but I guess it didn't go through. I am so so sorry for the wait and understand if you don't want to continue this with me. emotion_0A0
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 11:46 pm
~ Erryl ~ "Trying is an important step, but it never grants success. We have to work hard for that, and even then, the universe seems to conspire against us," Erryl says thoughtfully. "Many people have the opinion that if you're not directly and completely opposing a problem, you are part of it. But sometimes, subtlety is the stronger option, even if it takes a longer time to bring change to fruition." He sighs softly. "My family owns a great deal of land, and we have fine orchards. Trees take a lot of patience and a careful hand to raise properly to bear the best fruit. It can be painful to hold back, and wait, but it can be necessary." Sadly he shakes his head. "I still keep many slaves, but I try to buy those who have had a difficult time and let them rest with the lightest possible tasks. Still, from people who live in a slave-free society, I would seem as bad as anyone else." He shrugs his shoulders and gives Naomi a long look, as though trying to assess any reaction she might have to his words. ((No worries! It happens. I've done similar myself.))
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Posted: Thu Aug 13, 2015 5:33 pm
Naomi Naomi took a sip of her coffee, a thoughtful grimace following. A moment of silence settled between the two before she glanced up at him. "That's using your own power, isn't it? You might own the slaves, but if you don't treat them as property to use however you wish, that's making a difference in their lives. My own tenure in slavery would have been bearable had I been captured by someone like you. As long as you don't settle for that little bit, and you move when the time is right, even I can understand your position." A wry smile crept onto her face. "In the end, it's the master's heart that determines a slave's suffering." Another coffee grimace interrupted her, but she smiled at him again. "I think you can raise a tree that could change your world." ((Ugh, I'm so sorry. -headdesk-))
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Posted: Fri Aug 14, 2015 8:21 pm
~ Erryl ~ The young man looks as though he's about to say something, then stops part way through. Shaking his head, he begins again. "I haven't had any complaints," he says dryly. "I've never captured a slave personally; most people had already been slaves after generations before I was even born. I think that makes it a lot harder for people to adjust their way of thinking...slaves and owners alike." He lets out a brief sigh. "A tree that can change the world. Interesting notion, that." Straightening his posture, he folds his hands on the table. "The problem with most masters is they see with their heads; their hearts simply don't enter into the equation." ((No worries. I've been working on a project with the story that Erryl is from. I'm still in the stage of thinking it's pretty good...which always worries me.))
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2015 10:43 pm
Yakov- THE TRAGIC OPERA The air was cold. The blanket fell a little too far off his frame, revealing a perked n****e amongst a wave of bumps. It was sensitive and erect. Like Yakov. He tossed and turned in the cold, lonely bed. It was nearly as harsh as the harshest Siberian winters that he had ever endured, except that it wasn't. His cold arms crossed over his cold body, in an attempt to become not-cold. But then the blanket slid further down, and then everything was cold. And Yakov was only sensitive. "Mmmmmmneh," he groaned, wincing open an eye as if he had never experience the cold before. His one eye looked around the room, scanning it to see it void of women. He scrunched up his nose; this did not compute. Yakov sat up in bed with a start, looking around suspiciously before he remembered who his partner for the time being was. He rubbed a hand over his face, massaging it briefly as he came to. "Jónaaaaa~" he whined like pathetic child. Yakov stood up from the bed, in the flesh, and too distracted by the lack of women and vodka to care about the cold anymore. Where the ******** is Nathalia- er, this Jóna flower. He scowled to himself, disappointed that she had not yet returned from her short errand to 'get food.' As he began marching from his mysteriously convenient suite that had appeared at the back end of the cafe, his heart sunk deeper, though he tried to ignore his impending reality. The flowers always leave... He pouted. And Nathalia still owes Yakov some goddamned money. He furrowed his brow with a huff. Yakov show is not free.With one hand held haphazardly out in front of himself, the closed door that lead from the hallway into the cafe floor burst open with a loud, sudden clang of metal. Yakov squinted at the bright light, panic and bewilderment increasingly overwhelming him. He looked around, only to see it filled with the typically strange looking patrons. He staggered toward the right, then to the left, eyes struggling to open and searching, like a lost, frightened baby deer. "Jónaaaa!" he shouted with a rasp. But nothing. To the left- there was no Jóna. And to the right- there was tragically no Jóna. Frantic, unable to contain his growing hung-over panic, Yakov started wandering aimlessly around the floor, still completely naked. He lifted up a stray, empty barstool off the ground and threw it carelessly into a table booth. "JONA?!" as if the barstool could have ever concealed her. Suddenly, the room felt like it was beginning to spin, and his steps staggered even more as he stood. The 6'5 Siberian finally broke- he had been reduced to his typical for all that knew him, 'there is currently not enough vodka to sustain my sanity and the girl has left me again' fit of tears and rage. Yakov collapsed to the floor on his knees, cradling his face with his hands as the tears flowed. His ugly cries bellowed out with guttural sobs that nearly choked him on their way out. We won't even mentioned what his face looks like right now. Yakov is dying inside.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2015 11:01 pm
Jóna Jóna was covered head-to-foot in s**t. Grootslang s**t. The trials were over, she had survived, and now all she wanted to do was get clean. Immortality could wait. The others were all waiting for her to find a pond to clean off in, keeping a healthy distance until she did so. She trudged tiredly through the swamp in search of a good water hole that was lacking any alligators--she had not just survived a giant godsbedamned snake just to get eaten by an alligator! As she tramped through the foliage, she came across a familiar door. "Burn it," she swore, looking down at herself. If she left to clean up, the door might very well disappear. If she went inside, she had to do so covered in crap. Well, they had water and soap in the cafe. Maybe there would be someone who could magic it off of her. Shrugging, she decided to march on in. Besides, if Yakov was there, she would like to be able to brag about surviving her trials. He had been worried. Much to her surprise upon entering, Yakov was, in fact, there. Stark naked, wailing piteously in the middle of the floor like he had been struck with a mortal blow. Tears and snot ran down his face. Slowly, one eyebrow raised and her head cocked to one side. "Yakov?" She flushed with embarrassment, well aware of her state. She had hoped she could sneak off somewhere to clean up before he had the chance to see her, but his distress took priority. She would have rushed to him, but she felt bad about getting s**t everywhere.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2015 11:15 pm
Yakov Somehow through the onslaught of ugly cries, the sound of Jóna's voice caught his ears and garnered his attention. Yakov looked up from the mess on the floor that was his shattered dignity to see the flower he was convinced had left him, and lead him to experience an episode of rehashed abandonment issues for approximately the twenty-seventh time. "J-Jóna?" he stuttered with a whimper. He blinked the tears that blurred his vision from his eyes before shouting, "YAKOV'S FLOWER." He bolted upright and wasted no time hurling himself toward her, encompassing her in his giant arms and admittedly staggering briefly off-balance as he did so. He was simply at a loss for words for what he desperately did not want to let go of, and what for the first time, had actually returned to him the morning after. Then the smell hit him. Yakov did not remember the sensation nor the sound of Jóna squelching or squishing when hugged. After a moment, he pulled his head away from sitting atop hers, feeling a sort of sludge had coated his neck. He looked down and raised a brow suspiciously. "Jóna is...?" he drawled, then a gag, "Oh, ********." Yakov managed to stifle the vomit from his throat as he lurched off to the side. Just barely.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2015 11:29 pm
Jóna Before she could warn him away, Yakov hurtled toward her, gripping her up in his huge arms. She stood there stiffly, arms at her sides, waiting for him to regain enough of his faculties to realize that she smothered in feces. Her nose has long ago abandoned her for a better land. She couldn't smell anything even if she wanted. His should still be keen... He lurched back, a little green, gagging. She held her arms out from her sides and then let them drop. "So, good news! I passed my trials and survived the Grootslang. I advise breathing shallowly." He had managed to smear crap from her body all over his. It wasn't a great look. Normally Yakov naked would be Jóna's delight, but he needed to clean up before she could fully appreciate it. She was reminded of his obviously, debilitating despair when she walked in and reminded herself to focus. "Are you okay?" She reached out a hand, not intending on actually touching him. The hand was pretty nasty, along with the rest of her.
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