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 Posted: Tue Jul 03, 2012 9:04 am
Where: A lonely bar in Imisus, frequented mostly by people who've nowhere else to go and are desperate.
When: The scene opens as evening turns slowly to night.
Who: Dragomir and Chayele Meshke, and Maeve LaChance
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Posted: Tue Jul 03, 2012 9:05 am
Dragomir was so tired recently. His arm was throbbing and refusing to heal and so, so hot. He'd realised awhile back that this was bad, but he couldn't stop traveling - if he stopped, he was as good as dead anyway, and he was fairly certain the wound couldn't let the plague in since he was immune to it, since he had Chayele. Speaking of which, the girl had been so good recently; Dragomir could sometimes forget she existed, with how quiet and distant she was being. Ordinarily, he would've reflected on how weird that was - but he was just glad for the chance to think and rest whenever he could.
However, they'd stopped for the night and Dragomir had found himself in a bar. He supposed that it wasn't the smarted - nor the safest - thing to do, especially not in his condition, but alcohol dulled the throbbing pain in his arm and so he regularly decided to partake in it, in lieu of actually getting it treated (which was too expensive, in his book, though he'd bought some herbs and had started treating the infection, though it was doing very little in the world of actually healing the injury). He was also very tired, though, so he put his head down. The fact that it stayed down for a few minutes incited Chayele to peek out of the pocket and tug and pick at his shirt and abdomen, hoping the pain would get him to move and lift his head. When it didn't, she nervously climbed from his shirt and onto the table. Her nimble, tiny hands threaded through his hair as she hummed a dissonant few notes, looking around. Someone needed to help her Dragomir - he wasn't reacting to anything, not even the headhug she shyly gave him. Someone needed to help.. But Chayele wasn't real sure who or how she could tell who it should be. She sucked her lip into her mouth and nibbled it, her forehead drawing together pensively, lines marring the smoothness. Dragomir had always told her no being seen, but her Dragomir wasn't doing well - this was a special circumstance, so he couldn't be mad.
... Oh, he'd certainly be mad, she knew, but she couldn't help it. Looking around again, she saw a lot of men. She didn't like men, mostly, especially not mean looking men like them. But there was one lady - Chayele would go to her first. Nimbly, she leapt down from the table to the chair and the chair to the floor, snuck up to her skirts, and tugged as hard as she could manage, head turned up and mouth wide open.
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