|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 1:26 am
There was a certain awe one felt when coming to a city as big as Palisade for the first time, and for Zharkov it wasn't any different. With eyes turned upwards to take in the great buildings looming up across the river, he set out from the small dock and into the bustling streets. Though he had somewhere to get, he was in no hurry and did not bother to rush, or allow the atmosphere to get him flustered. On the contrary, it was rather refreshing to be in such a populated area again, and he was reminded distantly of Ledograd, which was a smaller in size compared to Palisade, but no less of a busy place. He buried a large hand into one of the deep pockets of his shabby coat, fishing out a small piece of paper and squinting at what was written on it. The address of the inn he was headed to.
According to the directions, it wasn't horribly far, and despite the limp to his step, he was determined to get to the place and settle in. Readjusting the bag that was slung over his shoulder, he carried on quietly, paying no heed to the countless people moving about as he made his way through the grubby streets of the slummier end of the capital.
"Finally." he murmured under his breath. He'd nearly missed the damn place, it was so tucked away. So many of the establishments seemed to run together here, but he'd finally found it, the Fox and Hounds Inn, the place he would stay while he dealt with his employer's current client (with the ulterior motive of investigating Palisade for his own reasons). Without hesitation, he entered the building and set about securing a room, glancing shiftily about the lower level of the place. When everything had been squared away and he was granted his key, he similarly wasted no time in heading for the stairs. There would be time to drink and relax later.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 2:39 am
If you asked a certain servant bustling about, there was never time to drink and relax. No, not when Kozel was determined to climb the ranks, though you'd never guess how much he hated his job with how eagerly he took on others' responsibilities, just ask the maids with no rooms to clean and rearrange. It was his—admittedly rather sad—dream to someday be allowed to man the guest register, more comfortable with handling books and lists than this horrible cooking and stabling business, and so on his misguided quest for a promotion that would never come, he set off to find more to do on the lower level as the afternoon set in. He'd make himself look good, dependable, and ah! There was his mark now, someone to serve, but as he neared the stairs and caught a better look at the stranger, Kozel found himself hesitating as fearfulness overrode professionalism.
Even if he hadn't wanted to completely admit Fox and Hounds Inn wasn't actually the most respectable place, serving its fair share of shady folk, there were times where even he had to acknowledge that, yes, maybe he did fear for his life a little when these men grew to be a bit rowdy, especially when he was staffing the pub, especially when his thick accent and fumbling speech betrayed his origins. But it wasn't always like that, he had to remind himself as he tightened his jaw and swallowed. It was just in good fun. So, practicing pronunciations in his head, Kozel straightened at the top of the staircase and addressed the grizzled man.
"Excuse me, sir!" So far so good, he descended the stairs, and it was only because of too-enthusiastically climbing them up and down so many times that he didn't trip. However, even as he stood on the step above the other man Kozel could see the guest was, oh dear, he had to be a full head taller than him and his dread returned as he dropped his gaze, head bowed in what was just polite humility, really, practiced pitch floundering. "Is, is there anything I..." Come on, Kozel, services to offer here. Hazarding a glance up, he caught sight of the man's luggage and reached out. "Can carry your bag? Sir?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 4:36 pm
As surly as he looked, the stranger's swift approach nearly managed to startle Zharkov, which was no easy feat. The man's descent down the stairs had been so quick that the tired traveler almost thought he'd been seeing things, and he recoiled quickly as the other's hand reached out, an oddly protective sneer appearing on his face. What sort of second rate inn, like this one, had bag boys? It set him on edge, but he bit back what might have been an outright nasty reaction. With a sarcastic grin, he swatted Kozel's hand away. "What? No, no. It is fine, I can manage."
He'd been so distracted that he had nearly overlooked the man's accent. Now they found themselves both on the stairs, at about eye level since Kozel was a step above. "Thanks anyway." He added after a moment, looking past the 'bag boy' for a moment before looking back down expectantly. Move now, please.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 5:24 pm
It must have been comical, the progression of expressions Kozel went through in that moment. His surprised wince turning to confused hurt because who would reject his stellar service finally settling on dazed recognition as he blinked dumbly at the other man, actually able to finally look him in the eyes as he the fear was replaced with a spark of hope. Oblivious to the expectant look trying to get him out of the way, too hung up on the possibility of meeting a fellow Katchian, finally!, he spoke up again, surer now.
"You are not native?" But that was unprofessional, wasn't it, and Kozel switched gears again, taking a step backwards up the stairs as he tried to stall. The topic was up, surely he'd bite, he just had to keep talking. "Your room, then. I-I could show you to... what room you have? Sir?" He was pushing it, he knew, but he wasn't about to let this chance slip by.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 8:29 pm
The myriad of expressions that crossed the man's features kept Zharkov just amused enough to avoid becoming cross. Indeed, if it had been anyone else, he might have shoved them aside for their trouble, but the little question he'd asked did not go unnoticed. "I am not. Neither are you." He commented, interrupting the follow-up question about being 'shown to his room'. He leaned in closer, squinting curiously as he tried to place the accent, all the while scanning the unsuspecting man's face as if it would aid in placing his nationality.
"Belestranan? Something." Zharkov snorted softly, re-adjusting his hold on the bag again. "I believe I can find it. Vision is fine." He answered quite suddenly, his smile becoming a bit strained. Did this guy think he was some old man? Probably not, but what a little pest all the same, even if they shared some sort of similar background. Then there was the sort of nagging paranoia that made Zharkov wary; they were in the scummy part of town, aferall...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 24, 2013 9:13 pm
This time, Kozel nearly did trip as he took another quick step back on the stairs, away from that lean-in, as though afraid the other man really would be able to place his nationality as from the unruly Katchia. He felt his heart sink, even, hearing Belastranan. But he could see it himself now, this brutish man, very masculine, total Belastranan. Probably dangerous for him to continue fraternizing with. So Kozel considered giving up, a hard frown on his face as his service was rejected again even if the guest seemed amused.
But the thought occurred to him that maybe he could keep up an act. This fool, he surely couldn't know Katchian from Belastranan if that was, in fact, where he was from. There was so much overlap he might as well have been Belastranan, anyway. Maybe it was a loneliness that had Kozel entertaining the idea, and desperation that emboldened him to offer, slipping into his mother-tongue in a voice low enough to almost be downright conspiratorial, "I could bring you tea once you settle in."
There, he said it. And if his fellow countryman refused his one final service, fine, he really was done. Finally moving aside to let him through, remembering himself once again, Kozel took up Common to tack on another "sir!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 25, 2013 12:58 am
Zharkov chuckled at the way the stranger scrambled back up, and tried to brush away his paranoid thoughts. It was getting too late for such conspiracy theories, and wasn't it rather refreshing to find someone from his country (or close to it) who wasn't part of his own ring of 'friends'? Zharkov figured so, though it was still pretty amusing to yank the poor guy around. It was only when the man spoke, switching to his native language, that Zharkov's grin faded again as his brain worked to place that oh-so-familiar dialect, seeming lost for a moment.
He smirked again, and reached out to set a hand on the other's shoulder, giving him a good-natured (if not rough) pat. Despite the forwardness and informal nature of the offer, Zharkov figured it would be better to play it friendly for the time being. "-Forgive me. I've had a long day, you see, but I would appreciate that very much.-" He began to ascend the remainder of the stairs, eager to get off his feet and rid himself of the weight of his luggage. "-I am in the fourth room. My name is Zharkov, by the way. Come when it suits you, you seem busy.-" He lifted a hand in a vague farewell as he went around the corner at the top of the stairs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 25, 2013 12:02 pm
Despite nearly buckling under the man's hand, caught so off-guard by both the gesture and his answer, Kozel felt himself smiling. It was rather weak, nothing so profound in the lopsided curl of his mouth, but the sudden warmth from this man and especially hearing someone else speak in that language again was a comfort he had not felt in a long time. Sure, there was still some nagging in the back of his mind that this could possibly be a bad idea, but this man did not seem unkind after all. He would just have to keep his wits about him.
"Very good, Zharkov. Mister Zharkov," he corrected himself, reminded that he was, in fact, supposed to be making himself busy right about now. "We will meet again soon!" He raised his hand quickly, mimicking the goodbye, then rushed off down the stairs as deftly as ever. The only difference now was a bit of a spring to his step.
The rest of the evening's work went by quickly enough, and not just because of Kozel's usual obsession with efficiency. He was eager to slip away from the kitchen when things weren't so busy, but as he gathered everything together, he couldn't help but once again start worrying. Would he be making an enemy instead if Zharkov found out he was Katchian? How were relations with the countries now anyway—or did he even want to know that anymore? Staring down at the tray, he had to remind himself that this was just a conversation with a man he would never see again. Just a chance to hear another speak his language, nothing more. A friendly conversation. The concept was foreign to him.
But that was what he had wanted when he offered this, right? Anyway, Kozel couldn't back out now. It would look bad for his credit, and even worse, it would make the inn look bad, and he couldn't have that. So, tray in hand, he ascended the stairs with a practiced grace that would be impressive if not for the stony look on his face that would be more fitting on a man headed to the gallows. Kozel only grew more tense at the door, but, remembering how the man had spoken to him last, managed to knock despite his fears, tray balanced expertly in his other hand.
"Mister Zharkov, your tea." He glanced up and down the hall, but otherwise stood stock-still. No playing favorites here, because of course bringing tea up to a guest's room had always been a service here at the respectable Fox and Hounds Inn, nothing odd here!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 25, 2013 4:25 pm
Zharkov frowned momentarily at the added on 'mister', and would have corrected the man if they weren't already apart and heading in different directions. He let himself forget about it once he'd found his room, wondering if the stranger (who he realized hadn't given his name) would actually come visiting later. It was still odd to him to have been greeted in such a way, at the grubby end of town, where no one ever seemed to go out of their way to help people. Zharkov chalked it up to the fact that they were of similar nationalities and let the matter slip from his mind as he settled into his room.
Opposite of Kozel, Zharkov took the quiet time to get comfortable. It had been a long, stressful day of travel, and before the knock at his room's door came he'd had time to nap a while and recover a bit of energy. He'd nearly forgotten that he was going to have company at all, and the knock and subsequent voice startled him some. There was a rather long pause, one that might have almost caused Kozel to leave...
"Zharkov is fine. No 'mister'." Zharkov peered out as he cracked the door, before letting it swing open all the way. Though his tone had been pretty dead serious, there was a grin on his face to show that he didn't mean anything bad by it. He'd taken off his coat by then, showing the white shirt with rolled up sleeves and equally shabby vest he'd had on underneath it. "Almost thought you weren't going to show up. Thank you, for your kindess. I didn't catch your name earlier." He looked at Kozel imploringly as he waited for him to come in.
Before Zharkov could say anything further, a loud meow sounded from below, and a little honey-colored cat slunk up to rub against Kozel's ankles, purring loudly as he wove around the man's legs. Zharkov tch'ed softly. "Careful. He loves to trip up strangers."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 25, 2013 8:26 pm
Although Kozel liked to think of himself as a patient man, as he liked to think himself many things he wasn't, standing out there was making him nervous, antsy even, but he would not fidget. That would be uncouth. Instead, his shifty glancing about only grew more frantic as he considered just leaving; maybe Zharkov wasn't there, or more likely he had changed his mind, and that was fine with Kozel because as he thought about it—
The sudden opening of the door, even if it wasn't a big dramatic flourish at all, was enough to startle Kozel into nearly dropping the tray, his sharp intake of breath covered up by the cups clattering noisily until he managed a double-handed grip on the blasted thing. Certainly, Zharkov's tone didn't help and for a moment Kozel stood petrified with the horror of being scolded until the actual words caught up to him and he saw that cheeky expression.
"And I almost thought you weren't going to answer!" he finally snapped, scowling even as the rising color in his face betrayed his embarrassment. Losing his composure, forgetting to introduce himself, and a request like that...! Kozel wasn't sure what to make of this arrangement. It still seemed inappropriate to drop professionalism completely, but all survival instincts told him if this man didn't want to be called mister, you listened.
Adopting a more sheepish look as he entered, Kozel opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to apologize, maybe to finally introduce himself, but all that came out was a surprised cry as a creature accosted his legs. He heard some snippet of "careful" and was anything but, staggering back and nearly losing the tray once again. He probably would have if not for the ridiculous tottering dance and copious amounts of swearing he pulled. The split-second decision not to kick the cat probably saved his life, too.
"Sir, please! This isn't funny!" Kozel somehow managed a voice that was both bitingly accusatory and pitifully pleading, because Zharkov had to be flustering him on purpose but why anyone would do that was beyond him. When he finally regained his balance, he was so tense the tray trembled in his grip as he glared daggers at the cat. "Pets are not allowed in this establishment!" He didn't actually know that, shamefully, but damn it all after the humiliation he endured he needed something on this man.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 26, 2013 12:35 pm
"But I did." Zharkov had to swallow hard and bite his tongue to avoid bursting into laughter, an act he was sure would drive away the poor, jittery little soul standing in the entrance to his room. Kozel's situation was only made worse when his mischievous excuse for a pet came to take a second chance at ruining everything, but Zharkov gave a low, sharp 'sst!' and the little gold-furred creature retreated back into the room, hopping up onto the bed after losing interest in their visitor.
"They aren't? I did not see any sign. What nonsense...he won't bother anyone." Zharkov said, brushing off the other's scolding. "I apologize for the delay, however. Please come in, won't you?" He asked, gesturing for Kozel to step inside. He turned himself to pull the two chairs out from around the table, moving to shut the door to the tiny closet by the bed before returning to the table.
He still had an air of amusement about him, and he almost felt guilty for it. He could just about smell the anxiety on the stranger, and it was hard to resist toying with him. Too easy to get a reaction out of the poor guy, but he willed himself to remain polite. It would be nice to make a friend, and besides, he didn't want to get kicked out for having Whisky along. It wasn't as if he were a messy animal, and didn't people keep pets in houses, anyway? Sound logic, of course.
"I am sorry for startling you, ah...what was your name, again?" He asked a second time, closing the door once Kozel had come into the room. The cat, thankfully, remained on the bed, contenting himself with grooming his face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 26, 2013 4:57 pm
Alright, alright, it was a rather weak point that may or may not have existed in the first place, and Kozel immediately regretted bringing "the rule" up when Zharkov began to refute it. Completely cowed, he slunk into the room but found it hard to be stay completely petulant even as he watched the grimalkin warily. For how intimidating Zharkov was, there was something somehow disarming about him that, as he closed the door, chased away Kozel's fear that someone might have heard his theatrics and his worries that this was a terrible decision. It didn't chase the embarrassment away completely, however. In fact, he only felt more ashamed when Zharkov asked for his name again.
It was a relief both to his arms and his nerves to finally set the tea down, though he remained standing in a moment of hesitation. It was an odd position Kozel found himself, torn between still feeling the servant and trying to reconcile with the whole "friendly conversation" business, but Zharkov seemed dead-set on disallowing any more formalities. "No, no, allow me to apologize for my, er, response." He held back a sir as he perched stiffly on the edge of the chair. He really shouldn't be allowing Zharkov to play host when he was only a guest here, right? Kozel was still servant! Tapping his foot nervously, he resisted the urge to stand back up anyway, continuing on somewhat hollowly. "And I am sure you are right. Your creature seems... agreeable." As if he wouldn't "bother anyone"; Kozel hardly tried to hide the disdain as he looked back over at the seemingly self-satisfied grimalkin grooming itself.
He was stalling again. He always was good at that, even if he hadn't always meant to do it on purpose. Tearing his gaze away from the cat, but not quite willing to meet Zharkov's gaze again, he busied himself with looking all about the room as though it were new to him. "My name is... It is Kozel, by the way. Thank you for having me, Mi—ah, Zharkov." That was going to take some getting used to.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 27, 2013 2:54 pm
Zharkov took the remaining seat and sighed pleasantly, seeming perfectly at ease, quite the contrary to the poor man sitting across from him, who still seemed on edge. He tried to tone his smirk down, and scooted his chair closer to the table before reaching for the kettle. He might have preffered something a bit stronger then, but he hadn't wanted to be completely rude to this strange man, who seemed oddly lonely himself. He wasn't much of a tea person, but it seemed like a popular drink in Sunderland, and it wasn't too horrid with a cube of sugar mixed in.
"It's alright, really." Zharkov tried to reassure. In his eyes, there was no notion of guest or servant anymore, just two people enjoying a chat and a cup of tea. "He is friendly, is all. Likes to meet new people. I should not have let him startle you so, with your hands so full." Zharkov glanced back while he gave another more subtle apology, shaking his head as the little beast groomed its whiskers. Zharkov lifted the kettle and poured out two cups, setting it down again and leaning back in the chair after he'd picked his up. It really was turning into an odd sort of evening, quiet and relaxed, when he usually might have been drinking or playing cards down in the tavern.
"Kozel. It is good to meet you. I should be the one thanking you, I haven't felt so welcome in this country in ages." He took a tentative sip of the hot drink, though his dark eyes remained glued on his nervous companion. "You work here, yes? How long have you been in Sunderland, if you don't mind me asking?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 27, 2013 8:37 pm
They were just having their first real conversation and Kozel was already surprised by what he was learning about Zharkov. His first assumptions were quickly being proven wrong, case in point now with the grimalkin. Not much of a pet person himself, Kozel was surprised in the first place that this man would have a companion animal, much less a cat—a hunting hound, maybe, but he sensed some real affection and although he didn't completely understand it, he felt himself enthralled all the same. At most he could muster a characteristic wan smile, but he took his drink gratefully and even felt himself settling a bit.
Another surprising thing about Zharkov: Kozel assumed the man to be a common boor and that was just as wrong as he found his smile widening a bit at the praise despite himself, taken by the man's more amiable manner. It was hard to remember him as being so curt before. Still, he couldn't find himself relaxing completely, especially when the inevitable questions came up. He couldn't have expected to be able to simply interrogate this man and not have any questions directed back at himself, as much as he would have preferred that. Perhaps it would have been more of a relief if his impressions were right and Zharkov turned out to be another crude ne'er-do-well interested only in bragging about his exploits after all.
No, this was a welcome change. And even if his other judgments were wrong, Kozel could at least be certain Zharkov did have some stories to him, even if he wasn't as quick to share as some others. He'd almost be interested if he weren't so keen on the idea that they'd never speak again after this. As soon as Kozel met his gaze, he looked away again, taking a sip of his own drink and thinking of the best way to answer. His first instinct was to lie, but he saw nothing to be gained by that yet.
"I have been here nearly two years now," he answered, setting his cup back down. Ah, bitter black, almost like he was back home. He found his voice more easily now. "Not a very welcoming country, I agree, but I consider myself lucky to have had this job for just as long." That part was the lie, if a bit of a white one. Kozel considered himself lucky to have found a niche to latch onto, yes, but the appreciation in his voice was weak. Eager to take the focus off of him, he turned an inquisitive look onto his companion. "And you, Mister Zharkov? Have you been here long?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 28, 2013 2:20 pm
It was something of a relief to Zharkov when Kozel finally seemed to settle a bit, and he returned the other's smile with a genuinely good-natured (if not tired) one of his own. A smile suited Kozel much better than that nervous frown he'd had on for about eighty percent of the very short time they had known one another, but he supposed that it -had- been his fault, mostly. It -wasn't- his fault that it was so damnably funny, though. For now he would try his best to reel in the teasing and try to be polite. That was, until the 'mister' slipped out again, and his grin sharpened inevitably, taking another careful sip of tea.
"Two years! That is quite a while, -Mister- Kozel." He smirked like a shark, and tried his hardest not to snicker."I have only been here for, mm...little over three months. I envy you, you must know plenty about this country by now. Have you stuck to this city mostly?" Heasked, taking another short drink before the sound sound of purring distracted him. Whisky had jumped down from his spot on the bed to trot over and rub against Zharkov's ankles. He smiled fondly and set his cup on the table before reaching to brush a large hand down the little creature's back. Whisky stood still, obviously enjoying himself, tail crooked into a candy-cane to reveal his happy state of being.
"I have lived in Northport mostly. This is my first trip to the capital. It is much bigger than I imagined it would be." He commented, sitting back up, much to the chagrin of his little striped friend, though the purring didn't stop. Whisky instead turned to the other body in the room, the jumpy, noisy, clattery person who was visiting his owner for whatever reason. He slunk over to rub against his ankles, saying hello a second time and looking for a little bit of attention. He wove inbetween Kozel's ankles again, purring all the while.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
