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 Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:02 pm
Jóna shrieked as he picked her up. While she didn't doubt his strength to hold her, she did doubt his sobriety. Feeling like the world lurched under her, she held on for dear life as he lumbered away.
"I don't care what you want to call it, as long as I get to see your Grootslang," she declared. It was all just semantics and meant nothing anyway.
He staggered, making her shriek and hold on tighter. Before long she would be known as the Yakov strangler, but he managed to get his feet back underneath him.
"Any room," she agreed, feeling suddenly impatient. She felt like Yakov was her "goodbye world" gift. At least the universe was kind enough to send her something before snatching her away.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:19 pm
Riasha doesn't say anything until the 'happy couple' are well on their way out. Then she turns to Ruslan. "Is that really the custom of your people, or is it just your friend's way?" she asks, curious. As a travelling performer, she had seen differences in culture from town to town, land to land. Most of them were just small variations on the same basic themes, but a few cultures had some rather unique rituals and rules.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:26 pm
Yakov & Ruslan And so Yakov found a hallway that seemed to form all on its own within the mysterious cafe. Apparently there was an inn in the back as well- he was just thankful that his drunken trek didn't involve stairs or Jóna may never get to see his grootslang. Then he realized- doors. Doors were still a thing. He stood outside the door to a room before decidedly lifting a leg to thrust kick it open. The door flew open, still leaving the lever in tact. He stumbled toward the bed and let her plop down onto it from her arms. He closed the door behind them and nearly tripped, leaving his back to lean against the door as he lost his balance. His fingers fumbled at his pants zipper and buttons before he finally managed to get them open, revealing the much-anticipated grootslang of Siberia. Ruslan was already beginning to drift into a drunken slumber as he sat in his barstool. He couldn't even remember when the cat had left his arms, or that he even had a cat in the first place. The sound of Riasha speaking finally caught his attention when he realized it was directed at him. He chuckled, "More or less." He managed to take a sip of his drink, but not without some drizzling down his scruffy chin. "Yakov does what Yakov wants. No one ask questions."
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:35 pm
Jóna yelped when Yakov kicked in the door, startled, and then again when he tossed her unceremoniously on the bed, falling a**-over-teakettle until she righted herself. By that time he had de-pansed, She grabbed a pillow to stuff behind her back, head feeling like it was going to fall off her shoulders. She had to blink away her double-vision and her face felt oddly numb. Maybe that last shot of vodka had been a bad idea. She fumbled to pull out the wooden pins holding her short bunch of curls above her head, letting them fall around her shoulders.
She waited in anticipation but the man didn't have much of a...reaction. His Grootslang wasn't very intimidating. It didn't look like it had very much life in it at all.
Burn it all.
"Please tell me it has more tricks than that."
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:40 pm
Riasha starts slightly at the sound of the door being busted open, but since it doesn't sound like anyone is in danger, she calms quickly. Frowning slightly, she nods her head to the nearly passed out Ruslan. "I've met a few too many people lately like that," she says a bit glumly. Then she looks thoughtfully at the man. "What about you? Do you do what Yakov tells you each time? Or is he actually your friend?" She actually is nice enough to hand him a napkin, should he choose to use it on his chin.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:44 pm
Yakov & Ruslan Yakov had the thought to take his shirt off, but when he raised his hands to do so, his blood seemed to be rushing everywhere but where it should be, and he stumbled forcefully from leaning against the wall to the left and onto the floor. He thought about trying again, but his hands only rose briefly in confusing gestures and his shirt remained. His head felt funny. " TRICKS?!" he said in a cracking high-pitched voice, as if it were the most shocking challenge that had ever been elicited in the world. Yakov began stumbling his way over to the bed, hunched over and wobbling violently from side to side. "I've got..." he slurred. He more collided with the bed in front of him rather than laying upon it. "Some tricks for you!" Then, his head fell limply to the side, knocking into one corner of the wooden bed post. A moment of silence graced them before strained snoring could be heard. The Siberian grootslang had been successfully slain- ... by alcohol.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:49 pm
Ruslan Ruslan is offered a napkin, but through his skewed vision he only made it out to be a mysterious white square. It took him a moment, but he successfully digested her questions as he reclined with his back against the bar, drink nearly slipping out of his hand. "Yakov is like my brother," he stated plainly. "He save my life, I save his life. We listen to who pays us." It didn't seem complicated in his mind.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:53 pm
Riasha nods her head slowly. "Ah. Are you mercenaries then?" she asks him. "Or do you just mean that he doesn't fight your boss as well?" It wasn't hard to picture Yakov as a mercenary. In fact, he seemed more like one than the actual mercenary she had met so far. Reaching out, she steadied the drink, not wanting to see it spill and go to waste, even though it's likely that the man shouldn't drink any more. "I saved someone's life once. Sort of," she notes.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 5:54 pm
"Burn it all."
Sighing, Jóna grabbed Yakov under his armpits, planted her heels on the bed, and dragged him back onto it. It took more effort than she could hardly expend, so she lay there against him for a few minutes, panting. He put out a lot of body heat, so it was nice to curl there for a little while.
Maybe just a few more minutes...
Eyelids heavy, Jóna's last drunken thought was that she should be happy. This was an omen. Grootslangs were so easy they defeated themselves.
Then her snores intermingled with Yakov's.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 6:02 pm
Ruslan Ruslan winced, barely able to keep his eyes open now. He looked toward the person he believed he was talking to. "We're too good to be just mercenaries," he said, more remorseful than bragging. "There are always more important things in times of war." His head slowly drifted to the side, then he managed awake again. His fingers inched toward the half-empty glass on the bar, and resultantly his body began leaning in its direction. "Like vodka..." his last words managed as his arms folded inward and he collapsed onto the bar. Siberian, out.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 6:04 pm
Being the nice sort of person she is, Riasha asks some of the staff to move the Siberian so he doesn't fall off the stool and crack his skull or something. He doesn't look quite as durable as his friend. Besides, there's no reason to leave him there to be humiliated.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 7:03 pm
With the Siberian man out, and both Jóna and Riasha occupied, Lance scrapped his drawing, gathered his things, put his jacket on, and took the flowers down with his magic. He promptly stood up, threw his bag over his shoulder, and gave Riasha a sad smile.
He headed toward the door, ensuring that he was not making eye contact with anyone. It was time to go. The war couldn't be fought without him, after all, and he had worn his welcome out here. Now all he could do was stuff his face and be uncomfortable.
Lance was gone before the door slammed shut.
((Ooc: Sorry guys))
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 11:31 pm
Jóna woke up to lightning spearing through her skull. She tried to tighten her eyelids and ignore it. The throbbing intensified. She clapped her hands to her skull and slowly sat up. A warm body half pinned her, a large hand palming one of her breasts over her alligator leather band.
What happened.
Blinking away the blinding light, dislodging the hand that cupped her, she dug her knuckles into her aching temples. Who the hell was she with?
Images, most of them blurry, started coming back. Her shorts were still intact, which meant she and her partner hadn't gotten very far, despite the groping. She recalled flashes of conversation, but nothing specific. She was pretty sure they had discussed the Grootslang.
Trying not to wake him--Yakov, that was his name!--she eased over to the side of the bed. Suddenly her stomach cramped. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged. Trying not to projectile vomit all over herself, she rolled off the edge of the bed and managed to get it on the floor instead. Heaving, clutching the blankets and shaking with the effort, she emptied her stomach of burning vodka and ale with more noise than an orc's mating call.
When she finally ceased, gagging noiselessly on an empty stomach, at least her head felt a little better.
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Posted: Wed Jun 17, 2015 11:44 pm
Yakov The sound of strained gagging and muddled coughs rung through his ears, causing Yakov to stir. Though he slept as heavy as the bears he had choked, his subconscious had become attuned to noises in the night-- the sound of vomiting being no exception. He groaned, wincing as he attempted to roll over and sit up. His belly burned, but the discomfort of nausea escaped him for now. His slit Siberian eyes barely pried open to see the figure of a woman heaving over the bedside. This bed-- wait, where did it come from? And who was she? Finally, he managed to sit up in bed, letting the weight of his body recline back onto the wall with a thud. He glanced down to see his pants undone, and she undoubtedly having been stripped down to her lingerie, whatever kind of kinky style alligator skin was. Yakov scratched his head with some bit of disbelief. "It couldn't have been that bad..." he mumbled, "You'll walk eventually," he tried to reassure innocently.
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