|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 8:02 pm
It was late out. Again.
Harland had taken not to sleeping. Not because his sleep was troubled; no, in fact he was generally brimming with good will. He wasn't sure why, it just seemed like things were generally better than they had been in the past. Even things he'd once remembered bitterly, or painfully. Everything seemed better.
But everything also seemed like he was viewing it through a haze, or a tint. Details to situations were eluding him, lately, and he hadn't participated in any major developments. He'd just let them happen around him. He'd hardly had anything to say at the Death division meeting.
There was something that bugged him about being out of the action. He was still coming to terms with the new lifestyle. Things had changed so much for the Irish-American wanna-be cowboy since he'd moved into the Deus HQ.
He was out that night for a walk, but he found it was quite cold, and he didn't appreciate it. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, he supposed, but he did love to be warm. Harland wrapped his battered duster around him, tucking the red bandanna up over half his face, tilting his cowboy hat down. He walked into the wind, head down, not looking where he was going.
A lullaby his mother once sang kept playing in his head, and he only, at the last second, looked up: I see the moon, and the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, Shine on the one I love. Harland smiled, his pale eyes glinting in the thin light so that they nearly looked colourless.
"So what do ye say, moon?"
☆≼Belle, it can't hear you. Even if it could, it would not reply. And you are most decidedly speaking aloud, to no one, at night. And if there is anyone listening, which I suspect there is, you are now decidedly off their list of acceptable acquaintances. Back away slowly.≽ Coyote said, drawled out and amused.
Harland wished Coyote would sleep.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 8:44 pm
He liked the nighttime better than he liked the daytime.
During the day, it was bright, and that light allowed for flaws to be exposed, for blemishes to be seen in broad view, for all to know. It was unappealing, not to mention weary, to have to sift through all the imperfections to find something that was even remotely pleasant again.
The night, however, was much more accommodating. It was simultaneously a cover and an escape all at once, which was why Alistaire much preferred it to the day. He did most of his thinking late at night, when the moon hung over the island, filtering dusty, silvery light down across the grounds.
Which was where he currently was, Alistaire dressed in a pair of black dress pants, a thick black turtleneck sweater, and a warm coat, scarf wrapped around his neck. Sleek black leather gloves covered both hands, as usual, and there was the gentle clinking of metal against metal, the chain-link bracelets rubbing at his wrists.
/ Ahead. /
"Hm?" Alistaire said vaguely, currently distracted by thoughts of his brother and the pink haired one. "What's up ahead, Grim?"
/ A person. /
Now fully cognizant of what exactly his weapon was saying, Alistaire's narrowed gaze swept through the dark and landed on a silhouette some distance away. It was an unrecognizable figure; but, then again, most were right now - though Alistaire was relatively certain he hadn't seen this particular hunter at that terribly dull party either.
He slipped his hands into his pockets and quietly made his way towards the other.
"Good evening."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 8:50 pm
"Good evenin' to ye," Harland addressed the stranger, with one of his warm smiles, pulling the bandanna away from his freckled face and warm skin. His eyes were still pale, but the rest of him practically radiated warmth. "I don't believe we've met. Name's Harland Leander Belle, 'n I'm with the Death division. I'd show ye Coyote, but he's restin' 'n all," he explained, tipping his hat to the man.
And then realizing they were out in the middle of the night, wandering around nowhere in particular. "Are ye lost? I once lost my keys 'n wandered into someone else's room," Harland admitted. Specifically: he had gotten very drunk and lost his keys because he fell in some bushes, and then proceeded to stumble into Lucy Lacroix's doorway. She was not impressed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 9:09 pm
Harland Leander Belle.
The name was immediately tucked away into Alistaire's mind, set carefully on a shelf to monitor and to asses and to determine whether ally or foe - though at the present time, most everyone on the island fell into the latter category, seeing as how Alistaire did not easily make friends.
Nor did he particularly see the need of them. His eyes raked over the freckled skin across the bridge of Harland's nose and the cheerful smile plastered on his pale face and wondered whether or not he actually was going to maintain the cowboy persona he seemed to radiate.
A faint smile touched the corners of Alistaire's lips. "A pleasure, Harland Leander Belle," he said easily. "My name is Alistaire Rahal-Nazari."
He did not make any gesture to offer his hand in greeting, nor did he do anything else but merely stand there and give the other a once over, letting carefully calculating eyes sweep over Harland. "I'm not lost," said Alistaire, after a long moment of scrutinizing. He smiled again, the smile not quite touching his eyes. "Merely exploring. I'm new here, and all."
He tucked his hands against the small of his back and said lightly, "Been here long, Belle?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 26, 2013 11:32 am
Harland also had a lot of mental shelves, but sadly on none of these shelves did Ian's last name reside. As a result, he had no notion that Alistaire and Ian were related, especially because of the difference in personality. Maybe some part of him nagged at the back of his mind, trying to point out the similiarities, but the absolute knowledge was just not there.
"Alistaire Rahal-Nazari, a name with some meat to it," he said. Harland wasn't really one to shake hands unless someone seemed to want for it; he was much more the type to tip his hat, loop his thumbs into his belt. Which he did, now, though he also pushed the hat back off of his sunny hair: the golden dark blonde bordering on brown, highlighted with shots of bright blonde as though he'd dyed it that way. He was far too lazy to do any such thing.
Alistaire would have, perhaps, under other circumstances unnerved Harland. He was by nature a very warm person, and didn't really know how to connect with people who were so cold. However, everyone had their own boundaries, and there was no reason not to respect Alistaire's more stringent ones.
"Explorin' gets me in all kinds of trouble," Harland admitted. "I've been here for months, 'n can't seem to get my head wrapped around it. Out of my element."
"So what's your speciality, Alistaire Rahal-Nazari?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 26, 2013 8:29 pm
Alistaire had watched carefully for some sign of recognition with the name, curious to know whether or not it would be familiar, whether this cowboy-wannabee would know his brother or not - and when no such sign occurred, he relaxed a little, though the curiosity remained.
"Strange phrase," said Alistaire lightly, "since I don't eat meat." He gave a small laugh that bordered on humorless. "But I take your point anyway."
Harland Leander Belle was a strange name for a strange person. He seemed utterly oblivious to the mood of the scenario they were both currently in, a cheerful smile on his pale face, thumbs looped into the belt loops at his hips, a cowboy hat perched atop a russet haired head. Was there really such a person that existed outside of some awful Western novel, Alistaire mused, giving Harland another once-over. He seemed terribly out of place here.
The same smile was back on Alistaire's face, smooth and calculating and cold. "I have many specialties," he said mildly, beginning to walk in a slow circle around Harland, hands still tucked against the small of his back. "Though none of them would have to do with anything here on the island, I'm afraid. I've only been here a few days, after all, less than two weeks."
He flicked his gaze towards the other. "Tell me about the people here," said Alistaire, and it was less a question and more of a subtle demand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 27, 2013 2:52 pm
Perhaps it was because Ian had been so guarded with most of his personal information that Harland didn't know about Alistaire's connection to him.
"I suppose we each have our dietary preferences," Harland replied, nodding his head, as if saying I'll allow it in the nicest way he could think of. At the same time, he couldn't imagine a life without something resembling meat. Well, actually, he could. It looked a lot like protein packs.
It looked a lot like a miserable Harland.
☆≼It isn't right, a life without meat,≽ Coyote said, as if sad for Alistaire. For once, they were in accord with one another, and Harland was very surprised. They were both surprised, in fact, and became uncharacteristically silent together.
Harland probably was out of place. So far, that's what he'd felt like: in the wrong time, the wrong country, the wrong war. A fight he didn't know how to win. Harland didn't budge a notch, no matter how cold Alistaire's smile seemed. He just thought: Maybe I can cheer him up! "So if you're on the island, what're the skills that brought you here?" he asked, trying to narrow this down.
"Wouldn't know much about 'em," Harland said. A lie. His memory locked details of every interaction, no matter how fleeting, somewhere inside himself. He was an observer, a former supernatural detective. All he did was collect details. "I mean, I can start with me, I suppose. My favourite drink's whiskey, I don't own much in the way of material possessions, I'm Irish-American and I'm ...a Libra?" Harland volunteered all of these facts one after the other, not bothering to watch Alistaire's pacing, or turn at all. He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging one shoulder, smiling in a goofy kind of way.
Then, as though something had suddenly occurred to him: "Welcome to th' island! Let's be friends."
If this was an interrogation, it probably wasn't going to go very far.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 27, 2013 9:06 pm
The faintest of smiles quirked at the edge of Alistaire's lips, as though Harland had said something amusing; however, it was not a pleasant sort of amusement, but rather almost condescending, as though Harland were a puppy doing something it shouldn't.
"Yes, I suppose we do," said Alistaire, and then let the subject drop, at least externally. What a strange man, was the internal thought, followed closely by, Perhaps he can be of some use, if I can decipher how useful he is already. Maybe he is acquainted with Ian after all.
Grimshaw made a small growl of approval. Alistaire's smile widened slightly. "Oh, I'm not sure they're all that appropriate for casual conversation," he said mildly, and it was unclear whether this was a serious answer or not. "I suppose some of my skills lay in talking, though, if you're really that curious."
His eyes narrowed slightly. First fact volunteered is favorite alcoholic drink. Whiskey, a "man's" drink. Trying to prove something, or else he really is too preoccupied with alcohol to think of anything more interesting. Second fact, items. Either backpedaling or trying to sound impressive. The rest, Alistaire concluded, was all nonsense information that was unnecessary.
A single eyebrow raised, Alistaire halting in his pacing directly in front of Harland.
Is he serious? he asked Grimshaw, to which the growled reply was, / I believe so. What a - /
"Friends," said Alistaire, the smile positively pasted on his face now, eyes carefully assessing both the situation and the word. "Yes. Friends are a good thing, are they not, Harland Leander Belle? I should very much like to be your friend."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 22, 2014 12:09 pm
Harland just kept smiling, and shrugged a shoulder. It didn't have too much of an effect on him, the pacing and the wolf-like way that Alistaire circled around him. Harland did, in fact, often think of alcohol with a sort of long-lost fondness: Remember when I was broke as hell, and I had no friends, and all those memories. But then, naturally, he'd think What memories? because protection's lock still kept the pain at bay, rewrote his history so that of the infinite possibilities only the gleaming, good ones remained. Erased the truth of Auberon's past, and his role in it.
So yes, he did indeed think of alcohol a lot, but he also found it very interesting to be drunk and often wished he was inebriated so that he could just swagger about flirting with anything that moved-- half untrue, he would probably call it courting. Harland had some weird hang-ups about the whole business, obviously.
When Alistaire stopped in front of Harland, Harland's smile became more of an amused expression, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He tipped his hat to Alistaire. "Ye know, friend, there's only one way to solve this, ah, power struggle we seem to've entered. I was thinkin' I'd like t' challenge ye to a duel, an' meet yer Deputee-- yer weapon, at any rate," he said. He still smiled good-naturedly, now, proposing it.
But his stance had changed, and he was very much serious about the duel. Whatever Alistaire had been trying to guess about him, Harland was going to settle it once and for all.
Then, naturally, friends forever!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 7:15 am
Harland was too easy.
It was like an open book that one could just edit as freely as they wished, twist the words to their own liking, maneuver the players into the positions that the reader - or the writer - wanted them to be so that they could achieve the outcome they wanted. Harland was malleable, like clay; easily manipulated.
In other words, he was perfect.
Alistaire arched a single brow, tilting his head a little as he scrutinized Harland. A slow, catlike smirk spread across his face, lips quirking upwards, and it was almost a sneer, almost, except not quite.
"A fight, you mean," Alistaire corrected, lifting his hand. The heavy clink of chains could be heard echoing in the dark as long, thin black daggers appeared between Alistaire's gloved fingers. He wrapped them around the hilt, the chains connecting the two dragging on the ground, and then stood there, giving Harland an expectant look.
"Ready when you are, Belle."Face your demons harland can go first : DD
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 07, 2014 5:58 pm
It made sense that Alistaire could read Harland the way he wanted and manipulate him the same. Harland wasn't often devoted to deciphering human interactions; everything he dealt with was fact, science, memory, history-- he logged those things away, filed them forever.
But this, all he could do was hope a challenge would settle things for once and all and they didn't have to spend their entire time together in this power struggle atmosphere. "To the trainin' grounds, then," he said, with a sunny smile. The thin black daggers Alistaire wielded looked very appropriate for how Harland perceived him, currently.
In fact, Harland shivered with anticipation as the sudden thought occurred to him: he's like a villain in a story, and he thought so maybe I can be the hero. It was vain, sure, but the idea was still a battle turn-on.
He waited to summon Coyote.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
