What: After a rowdy night at the Fox and Hounds Inn leads to his arrest, Zharkov reaches out to Kozel for help. Some other stuff happens.
Where: Palisade/The Fox and Hounds Inn
Post count: 51 (3.4 pages)
Where: Palisade/The Fox and Hounds Inn
Post count: 51 (3.4 pages)
Kami
It was with a pained groan that Zharkov woke one cold winter morning, vision blurred, head pounding, in the back of a dingy jail cell. Though it had only been a few weeks since his fateful trip to Oldcastle with Kozel, the brisk fall weather had swiftly went into harsher winter mode, and he squinted at the odd sound of the wind whipping through...was that a window? It didn't take long for the Okrainan to remember exactly what had happened, though, as he uncurled from where he had passed out on the rock hard floor of the crowded cell. The memories hit him like a bag of old bricks, rather, and he swiftly sat up, glancing around in agitation at the other men mulling around the cell. So he really had been arrested.
With a frustrated sigh, he thought back on the previous night. What fun they had all been having then, and who would have thought that it would get so out of control? He winced at the thought of Kozel finding out, not even sure if he had been there to witness it or not. The way he remembered, his Katchian friend had been absent when the drunken fight had broken out, and by the time things had spilled into the street was when everything began to blurr together. Someone must have called a constable, he thought, for he very vaguely remembered a sense of urgency at some point, and being pulled along to some unknown destination. How wonderful that that destination happened to be a Sunderlandian jail cell, his first incarceration in his new home.
After some effort, he managed to catch the attention of one of the guards stationed nearby, eager to see what could be done for his situation. Where was he? What were the charges?? Disturbing the peace, one of the constables had told him, and that he'd likely have to pay a steep fine for it. Using his limited persuasive skills, one of the men had allowed the agitated foreigner to send a correspondence to a friend in order to pay his bail, and Zharkov had hastily scrawled a note in their native language. Sent off with an errand boy, it would eventually reach its recipient at the Fox and Hounds Inn, later that day...
"Kozel -
I am in need of your help. Things got out of control last night, I am in the jail, just across the bridge. There is a loose floorboard under the top left leg of the bed in my room, lift it up (carefully). It is where I keep my savings. PLEASE bring a pouch with at least half of it. I am sorry.
-Zharkov"
It was a simple message, but Zharkov hoped that it would work.
With a frustrated sigh, he thought back on the previous night. What fun they had all been having then, and who would have thought that it would get so out of control? He winced at the thought of Kozel finding out, not even sure if he had been there to witness it or not. The way he remembered, his Katchian friend had been absent when the drunken fight had broken out, and by the time things had spilled into the street was when everything began to blurr together. Someone must have called a constable, he thought, for he very vaguely remembered a sense of urgency at some point, and being pulled along to some unknown destination. How wonderful that that destination happened to be a Sunderlandian jail cell, his first incarceration in his new home.
After some effort, he managed to catch the attention of one of the guards stationed nearby, eager to see what could be done for his situation. Where was he? What were the charges?? Disturbing the peace, one of the constables had told him, and that he'd likely have to pay a steep fine for it. Using his limited persuasive skills, one of the men had allowed the agitated foreigner to send a correspondence to a friend in order to pay his bail, and Zharkov had hastily scrawled a note in their native language. Sent off with an errand boy, it would eventually reach its recipient at the Fox and Hounds Inn, later that day...
"Kozel -
I am in need of your help. Things got out of control last night, I am in the jail, just across the bridge. There is a loose floorboard under the top left leg of the bed in my room, lift it up (carefully). It is where I keep my savings. PLEASE bring a pouch with at least half of it. I am sorry.
-Zharkov"
It was a simple message, but Zharkov hoped that it would work.
Soldier
There were several things Kozel had found appalling about the note he had received, completely out the blue, tearing him away from gossiping — that is, gathering information—with another servant over last night's debacle. He'd given no explanation aside from a terse 'excuse me' despite the concerned (but mostly nosy) look, suddenly stern, storming off to re-read it and let it sink in because Kozel really could not believe how terrible Zharkov's handwriting was.
And the loose floorboard? Had he found that, or pried it for himself? Either way, utter disrespect for the property—and Kozel was privately miffed he had missed such a thing, when he was sure he inspected the rooms thoroughly. But worst of all was the very point of the note, confession from the man himself that he had caused the brawl last night. The Katchian was not witness to it himself, but certainly did not miss the cacophany, holed up as he was in his room taking a 'break' to write at the very desk he found himself at once more, head in hand and glaring down at the note.
It was disappointing. Hadn't Zharkov argued with him that he wasn't a criminal? No, he'd only stressed he wasn't a thief, and Kozel glanced up at the figure that really had just become a souvenir, standing proudly at attention near his ink, a reminder of trips both good and bad. Mostly bad, because that's what the Okrainan really was, an unrepentant scoundrel who never thought things through, only to get into situations where he clearly could not handle the consequences.
Kozel hadn't forgotten how Zharkov had gotten them lost in the forest. They'd spent the night there, in the wilderness, and so he figured the beastly man could stand to spend one night trapped in civilization. Perhaps he'd learn something. Crumpling up the note, Kozel strode out of the room, having respectable work to get to.
And the loose floorboard? Had he found that, or pried it for himself? Either way, utter disrespect for the property—and Kozel was privately miffed he had missed such a thing, when he was sure he inspected the rooms thoroughly. But worst of all was the very point of the note, confession from the man himself that he had caused the brawl last night. The Katchian was not witness to it himself, but certainly did not miss the cacophany, holed up as he was in his room taking a 'break' to write at the very desk he found himself at once more, head in hand and glaring down at the note.
It was disappointing. Hadn't Zharkov argued with him that he wasn't a criminal? No, he'd only stressed he wasn't a thief, and Kozel glanced up at the figure that really had just become a souvenir, standing proudly at attention near his ink, a reminder of trips both good and bad. Mostly bad, because that's what the Okrainan really was, an unrepentant scoundrel who never thought things through, only to get into situations where he clearly could not handle the consequences.
Kozel hadn't forgotten how Zharkov had gotten them lost in the forest. They'd spent the night there, in the wilderness, and so he figured the beastly man could stand to spend one night trapped in civilization. Perhaps he'd learn something. Crumpling up the note, Kozel strode out of the room, having respectable work to get to.
Kami
Zharkov knew that the only thing left to do was wait, and after a few hours, his hopefulness melted away into a fretful worry. Of course he couldn't expect Kozel to come right away, he tried to reason, because the man worked during the day. The Okrainan spent the majority of his time slumped against the wall, exchanging a few words now and then with the other 'inmates'. Sunderland jails were only a sight better than Belestranan ones (though he only knew from hearing about it). He had been thrown into a large cell, crowded in with other men and women, all of whom seemed to have committed only minor crimes like he had.
He kept to himself though, for the most part, and as the sun began to sink, so did his spirits. The later it became, the more obvious it was that Kozel would not come, and the Okrainan despaired. What if Kozel left him there for good? He'd been half worried that, perhaps the note hadn't reached his friend, but it wasn't as if many could read it anyway, scrawled messily in their own language. By the end of the day his nerves were frayed, and he sat in the dim light of the lamps that were lit outside the cell. The only things he had in his pockets were his empty flask, and...ah, the little dog toy.
Zharkov often kept the little trinket with him, and he'd picked up the habit of toying with it in his pocket during idle moments. He liked to trace his fingers over the swirling patterns, and after casting a glance around, pulled it from his pocket to look at it quietly. It would be a shame to have it confiscated, if he really did end up doing labor for his wrongdoing. At least, that was what he assumed would happen. After a time, he buried his hands in his pockets again, gripping the object tightly and resting his head back against the wall. All he could do was wait, and sleep seemed like a good way to pass the time.
He kept to himself though, for the most part, and as the sun began to sink, so did his spirits. The later it became, the more obvious it was that Kozel would not come, and the Okrainan despaired. What if Kozel left him there for good? He'd been half worried that, perhaps the note hadn't reached his friend, but it wasn't as if many could read it anyway, scrawled messily in their own language. By the end of the day his nerves were frayed, and he sat in the dim light of the lamps that were lit outside the cell. The only things he had in his pockets were his empty flask, and...ah, the little dog toy.
Zharkov often kept the little trinket with him, and he'd picked up the habit of toying with it in his pocket during idle moments. He liked to trace his fingers over the swirling patterns, and after casting a glance around, pulled it from his pocket to look at it quietly. It would be a shame to have it confiscated, if he really did end up doing labor for his wrongdoing. At least, that was what he assumed would happen. After a time, he buried his hands in his pockets again, gripping the object tightly and resting his head back against the wall. All he could do was wait, and sleep seemed like a good way to pass the time.
Soldier
Nevermind how Zharkov felt; Kozel was having a crisis. His usual tactic of keeping busy, the way he had lived the past two years in Sunderland, was coming undone. He went through the motions, of course, cooking food that wasn't his own, seeking out extra chores and scolding others who weren't Wilkerson or Wilkins or — well he had long since gone and Kozel didn't know know why — and he had even gone out to buy some knitting material he didn't even need.
In truth, Zharkov's situation stayed in the back of his mind despite how badly he had wanted to forget, finally coming to the forefront as the day wound down and the servant found himself without much to do at all. What was this; was Kozel actually worried about the criminal? Not at all, he tried to tell himself, as he slipped into Zharkov's room after pacing for too long in his own. Justice was being served, that was the truth, as he moved the bed and checked, ah yes, top left under the floorboard. The man would learn his lesson and learn it well, a comfort Kozel would keep to as he took the savings and quickly put everything back, looking around with a start as he remembered the beasts Zharkov kept but finding none. Good. He wouldn't have wanted to break it to them that their master was a criminal, unless they already knew? Bird of a flock, or something like that.
And so Kozel returned to his room feeling somehow lighter, despite the weight of the pouch, as instructed, despite the disappointment that hung like a burden too, despite the idea that he should fall so low to become involved in a wretch like that. He did not sleep easy, but his last thought was that Zharkov probably wasn't either.
In truth, Zharkov's situation stayed in the back of his mind despite how badly he had wanted to forget, finally coming to the forefront as the day wound down and the servant found himself without much to do at all. What was this; was Kozel actually worried about the criminal? Not at all, he tried to tell himself, as he slipped into Zharkov's room after pacing for too long in his own. Justice was being served, that was the truth, as he moved the bed and checked, ah yes, top left under the floorboard. The man would learn his lesson and learn it well, a comfort Kozel would keep to as he took the savings and quickly put everything back, looking around with a start as he remembered the beasts Zharkov kept but finding none. Good. He wouldn't have wanted to break it to them that their master was a criminal, unless they already knew? Bird of a flock, or something like that.
And so Kozel returned to his room feeling somehow lighter, despite the weight of the pouch, as instructed, despite the disappointment that hung like a burden too, despite the idea that he should fall so low to become involved in a wretch like that. He did not sleep easy, but his last thought was that Zharkov probably wasn't either.
Kami
It had been a rough night indeed, full of bad dreams and restlessness. His mind had crept back into the dark places that he often tried to keep buried, and sometime during the early morning he awoke with a jolt, in a cold sweat. He swallowed hard as flashes of the dream came back to him. Loud noises, the sounds of angry voices, and the hot glow of flames in the distance... He tried to calm his breath, and glanced around in an attempt to distract his feverish, half-awake mind, relieved to see that most of the people in the cell were at rest, too. All except for a couple near a far back corner, chattering away in muted tones. He was about to move and stretch, to attempt to wake himself further, but as he pulled his hands from his pockets he realized that something was not quite right...
And that something was just enough to jerk him into full consciousness, so much so that he nearly yelled. He hadn't noticed it during his first few drowsy moments, but there, curled in his lap, was a strange, tiny little animal. He bit the inside of his lip, heart beginning to pound, immediately wondering if he was indeed awake. It might not have been so horrifically strange (perhaps a mutt that lived in the prison?) if it had not resembled, in every detail, the little toy that he kept in his pocket. He remembered to breathe, after a moment, and reached to lay a hand on the creature.
Zharkov's state of near-panic was not improved much when the tiny beast opened its glowing eyes to look up at him. It yawned, and flicked its tail, before laying its little head back down, almost as if to say 'too early, still'. Well, he couldn't stay like this for long, could he? Not when all these people began to wake up. So, without any hesitation, he scooped the little creature up and situated it in the front of his coat, hugging one arm close to keep it from falling through. His thick coat made it hard to tell that anything was there, and he was relieved to see that it didn't particularly care about being moved. Yet.
Immediately, he got up and slunk closer to the barred doors. He would send another note if he had to. Kozel had to come, and soon.
And that something was just enough to jerk him into full consciousness, so much so that he nearly yelled. He hadn't noticed it during his first few drowsy moments, but there, curled in his lap, was a strange, tiny little animal. He bit the inside of his lip, heart beginning to pound, immediately wondering if he was indeed awake. It might not have been so horrifically strange (perhaps a mutt that lived in the prison?) if it had not resembled, in every detail, the little toy that he kept in his pocket. He remembered to breathe, after a moment, and reached to lay a hand on the creature.
Zharkov's state of near-panic was not improved much when the tiny beast opened its glowing eyes to look up at him. It yawned, and flicked its tail, before laying its little head back down, almost as if to say 'too early, still'. Well, he couldn't stay like this for long, could he? Not when all these people began to wake up. So, without any hesitation, he scooped the little creature up and situated it in the front of his coat, hugging one arm close to keep it from falling through. His thick coat made it hard to tell that anything was there, and he was relieved to see that it didn't particularly care about being moved. Yet.
Immediately, he got up and slunk closer to the barred doors. He would send another note if he had to. Kozel had to come, and soon.
Soldier
It was a good thing, for Zharkov's sake, that Kozel was naturally an early riser, eager as he was to get to work, though his routine was changed. He tried to rationalize his urgency: The sooner he got the Okrainan criminal bailed out, the sooner he could get back to work and back to routine anyway. Simple. So he slipped away from the inn, sure he wouldn't be missed right away, out into the cold Palisade morning where the streets were not yet so busy, but populated enough by others on their way to the daily toil to make him sigh.
No honest toil here; the servant was on his way to the jail and he was almost convinced everyone around could tell and was judging him harshly for it. Head down, he walked quickly, not wanting to consider what his father would have thought, either, so although there no way he could (or ever would) know, the shame was there all the same. There was no apprehension, at least, about speaking to the magistrate and paying up. Kozel knew well enough how to be respectful and proper when dealing with authorities, something he was sure Zharkov was ignorant of.
And despite that, Kozel still blurted out "It will not happen again, sir," a promise he could neither keep, nor expect Zharkov to hold to. He regretted saying so immediately and scuttled right out of the building into the cold again, unwilling to meet the man he'd helped right away.
No honest toil here; the servant was on his way to the jail and he was almost convinced everyone around could tell and was judging him harshly for it. Head down, he walked quickly, not wanting to consider what his father would have thought, either, so although there no way he could (or ever would) know, the shame was there all the same. There was no apprehension, at least, about speaking to the magistrate and paying up. Kozel knew well enough how to be respectful and proper when dealing with authorities, something he was sure Zharkov was ignorant of.
And despite that, Kozel still blurted out "It will not happen again, sir," a promise he could neither keep, nor expect Zharkov to hold to. He regretted saying so immediately and scuttled right out of the building into the cold again, unwilling to meet the man he'd helped right away.
Kami
It was to Zharkov's greatest surprise when a man came up the hallway to the cell a while later, only to unlock it and call out his name. The Okrainan could have cried, so relieved to be leaving the dreary place, though it was a sort of mixed blessing. He knew Kozel was probably disgusted by the entire affair, and he sucked in a deep breath as he allowed himself to be escorted out. After a quiet 'thank you', he hurried off down the street, hands shoved into his pockets and arms hugged tightly to himself. He was still harboring a tiny demon, afterall, and he hadn't forgotten about it either.
"Kozel!! Wait for me..." He was a little hurt that Kozel would rush off in such a way, but not wholly surprised. He probably didn't even want to be seen with him, but, Zharkov couldn't just let him slink off without saying anything. Or getting what little savings probably remained. It was painful to think about, but he was more interested in getting to Kozel than his actual money. He was panting softly as he finally caught up, praying the little beast in his coat would stay asleep just a while longer.
"Kozel! Why are you rushing off without letting me thank you!" He asked as he fell in step at his friend's side, a weak grin on his face. There was always the chance that a more chipper approach might work.
"Kozel!! Wait for me..." He was a little hurt that Kozel would rush off in such a way, but not wholly surprised. He probably didn't even want to be seen with him, but, Zharkov couldn't just let him slink off without saying anything. Or getting what little savings probably remained. It was painful to think about, but he was more interested in getting to Kozel than his actual money. He was panting softly as he finally caught up, praying the little beast in his coat would stay asleep just a while longer.
"Kozel! Why are you rushing off without letting me thank you!" He asked as he fell in step at his friend's side, a weak grin on his face. There was always the chance that a more chipper approach might work.
Soldier
There was a visible hunch in Kozel’s usually rigid and impeccable posture as Zharkov intruded on his stormy thoughts, and he countered the man’s grin with a scowl of his own, quickening his pace. Granted, it didn’t do much of a difference, short as he was, but it was the principle of the thing and anyway, if that didn’t get the point across then Kozel’s harsh words surely would. “Keep your thanks. I want nothing to do with a shoddy man like you.”
This was somewhat undermined by what he had just done, when he just as easily could have left the Okrainan to rot (and taken his savings, not that Kozel cared for such things), but he hoped that it hurt anyway. The thought had crossed his mind, as it had probably crossed Zharkov’s, but it was not fear of incurring his wrath that had kept him from such a petty betrayal. He needed only to remember the tone of the note, and even now, Kozel glanced quickly back with a wary eye, trying not to seem concerned but—wait had Zharkov gained weight?
This was somewhat undermined by what he had just done, when he just as easily could have left the Okrainan to rot (and taken his savings, not that Kozel cared for such things), but he hoped that it hurt anyway. The thought had crossed his mind, as it had probably crossed Zharkov’s, but it was not fear of incurring his wrath that had kept him from such a petty betrayal. He needed only to remember the tone of the note, and even now, Kozel glanced quickly back with a wary eye, trying not to seem concerned but—wait had Zharkov gained weight?
Kami
"What! Shoddy!?" Zharkov nearly yelped the word, his grin turning at once into an upset glower. "Kozel, you misunderstand. I did not start the fight, I was merely...caught up. In the wrong time, at the wrong place." He stumbled through his explanation, trying desperately to get his friend to understand. It still did not excuse the fact that he'd become drunk enough to be part of such a ruckus, but he knew he hadn't started it, at least.
"I am not shoddy, anyway. Everyone makes mistake sometimes." He mumbled unhappily, glancing away. He nearly jumped when the little beast in his jacket shifted just slightly, not quite enough to be noticeable, but more than what it took to startle the Okrainan. He began to pick up his pace, more eager than ever to reach the safety of the inn.
"I am not shoddy, anyway. Everyone makes mistake sometimes." He mumbled unhappily, glancing away. He nearly jumped when the little beast in his jacket shifted just slightly, not quite enough to be noticeable, but more than what it took to startle the Okrainan. He began to pick up his pace, more eager than ever to reach the safety of the inn.
Soldier
Getting into the part of town now that certainly wouldn’t notice two conspicuously-accented men quarreling with each other amongst the usual bustle and other quarreling, Kozel was both dismayed to find Zharkov still following him and trying to explain, while simultaneously somewhat relieved by it. So he hadn’t started it, as Kozel had immediately assumed; that was a bit better. But not good enough, not to soothe his battling sense of justice and pesky, dangerous loyalty.
“Yes, of course everyone makes mistakes,” he said patiently, as though speaking to a child, but his next words held venom. “And respectable men deal with the consequences of their mistakes.” It was a hard thing to say, as he remembered his own imprisonment, but he said it without hesitation and tremor, thank goodness, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead, hoping to use work as an excuse to ditch Zharkov as soon as they got there. He needed to sort out the feelings that still plagued him, and the man’s uncharacteristic upset manner was making it difficult. This whole fiasco was revealing a vulnerability he would not have expected to find in such a criminal, because that’s what he was, Kozel had to remind himself, a criminal.
“Yes, of course everyone makes mistakes,” he said patiently, as though speaking to a child, but his next words held venom. “And respectable men deal with the consequences of their mistakes.” It was a hard thing to say, as he remembered his own imprisonment, but he said it without hesitation and tremor, thank goodness, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead, hoping to use work as an excuse to ditch Zharkov as soon as they got there. He needed to sort out the feelings that still plagued him, and the man’s uncharacteristic upset manner was making it difficult. This whole fiasco was revealing a vulnerability he would not have expected to find in such a criminal, because that’s what he was, Kozel had to remind himself, a criminal.
Kami
The change in surroundings offered some comfort, but Zharkov still wanted to get to cover...to the safety of his room. His stomach sank as he realized he probably wouldn't even have the money to pay for many more nights, not after paying the bail and fine for his own stupid decisions. What was he supposed to do after that? He fretted quietly, trying to make eye contact with the stubborn Katchian.
"I did! You think a night in prison isn't dealing with the consequences!?" His voice raised, and for a moment he looked shook up. "It is not as if anyone was badly hurt. Nothing was damaged. I paid them my money." He huffed in frustration, and then seemed to choke for a moment as the little beast in his jacket shifted again. Was it waking? It nearly made him go into panic mode. There was no way Kozel could see it...no, he couldn't let that happen. Relief came again when he saw the front of the inn down the street, and he squashed the poor creature close to his body to prevent it from wiggling. "I am sorry, Kozel, for everything. I owe you, for this favor you have done. What can I do?"
"I did! You think a night in prison isn't dealing with the consequences!?" His voice raised, and for a moment he looked shook up. "It is not as if anyone was badly hurt. Nothing was damaged. I paid them my money." He huffed in frustration, and then seemed to choke for a moment as the little beast in his jacket shifted again. Was it waking? It nearly made him go into panic mode. There was no way Kozel could see it...no, he couldn't let that happen. Relief came again when he saw the front of the inn down the street, and he squashed the poor creature close to his body to prevent it from wiggling. "I am sorry, Kozel, for everything. I owe you, for this favor you have done. What can I do?"
Soldier
Kozel actually winced as Zharkov raised his voice, though whether it was because of that ugly word, prison, or the stench wafting from the alleyway they passed, was hard to say. He suddenly hated Sunderland for a moment, but hastily pushed the thought aside, the sign for Fox & Hounds coming into view a bizarre comfort. As beat up as the rest of the inn, there was the fox, and there were the hounds bounding around the lettering—and Kozel was feeling rather hounded himself at the moment, abruptly stopping in his tracks and rounding on the Okrainan.
"You have really learned nothing," he snapped, then dropped his building lecture for a moment to stare bewildered at the way Zharkov was holding himself. Was... was he drunk? Ill? "What—" No, no, he wouldn't play into whatever bizarre game this was, not when the freedom of work called so near. With an exasperated ugh, Kozel smartly turned back and answered dismissively, "You can leave me alone, if you wish to repay me so much."
Although, seeing as they were headed the same way, he found himself in the awkward position of holding the door open for Zharkov once they reached the inn. "...After you, sir," he muttered, eyes downcast with indignation.
"You have really learned nothing," he snapped, then dropped his building lecture for a moment to stare bewildered at the way Zharkov was holding himself. Was... was he drunk? Ill? "What—" No, no, he wouldn't play into whatever bizarre game this was, not when the freedom of work called so near. With an exasperated ugh, Kozel smartly turned back and answered dismissively, "You can leave me alone, if you wish to repay me so much."
Although, seeing as they were headed the same way, he found himself in the awkward position of holding the door open for Zharkov once they reached the inn. "...After you, sir," he muttered, eyes downcast with indignation.
Kami
"How do you figure that??" The Okrainan nearly growled his words, but then they had reached the inn, and Zharkov wilted as Kozel snapped at him. He looked and felt exhausted, but the prospect of losing one of the only friends he had in the entire city was too horrible to comprehend, and he stopped in the doorway to continue to argue. "Kozel, please. Let us at least discuss this." He murmured, knowing that the Katchian had been holding back. Perhaps if he were allowed to vent it would somehow improve their standing. Zharkov couldn't deny the fact that being lectured by the man was an unpleasant thought, but he knew he probably deserved it.
He had to get to his room first, however. He slunk in and glanced around, still hugging himself, certain that Kozel probably thought him insane (yes, he'd caught that look). The little creature was starting to shift about more frequently, and he was horrified over the thought of it struggling in his coat. He glanced back at Kozel, not wanting to rush off before getting a response from him.
He had to get to his room first, however. He slunk in and glanced around, still hugging himself, certain that Kozel probably thought him insane (yes, he'd caught that look). The little creature was starting to shift about more frequently, and he was horrified over the thought of it struggling in his coat. He glanced back at Kozel, not wanting to rush off before getting a response from him.
Soldier
Saying nothing at first, Kozel simply closed the door slowly behind himself, watching Zharkov with a narrowed, judging gaze. He was acting very strangely, but still trying to argue, and Kozel would have been suspicious if he weren't so annoyed. Thankful they were alone, if only for a brief moment, he almost did consider 'discussing' things, but he didn't want to risk being caught talking to the criminal when he should have been—and would have vastly preferred to be—on the job. "We have nothing to discuss," he said coldly, as if meaning to end it once and for all, and he brushed past with a practiced and dismissive air not at all befitting of a servant.
"Not now. Later." Thrown over his shoulder as he left, more of an afterthought than anything, it still spoke loud and clear of Kozel's own fears of losing his only friend, even if said friend was an incorrigible brute.
"Not now. Later." Thrown over his shoulder as he left, more of an afterthought than anything, it still spoke loud and clear of Kozel's own fears of losing his only friend, even if said friend was an incorrigible brute.
15
Kami
Zharkov peered over with the same tired look etched across his bruised face. He almost expected Kozel to launch into some heavy-handed tirade about all the things he'd done wrong, but as he was dismissed again, his heart sank. Frustration began to blossom in the wake of his despair, and just as he was about to argue even further, Kozel managed to silence him quite effectively. "Yes. Later. I am sorry." It was more than enough to pacify him, giving some glimmer of hope that they would be able to talk it out, or at least, allow Kozel to take out his strange frustrations. Zharkov had to wonder where that unerring sense of justice came from, and he found himself wishing that he'd asked more about Kozel's past sooner.
Temporarily spared from the Katchian's wrath, Zharkov swiftly made for the stairs once his companion was out of sight, and booked it to his room. After fumbling with the key, he finally managed to get himself inside, finally hidden from prying eyes so he could inspect the little beast that had come to him during the night. Or perhaps someone had left it? There was no way to know for sure. Opening his coat, he scooped the creature out and deposited him on the bed.
It was more awake, then, and blinked up at him blearily. Zharkov took the toy out of his pocket so he could make a comparison. Yes...they were exactly the same. He heaved a sigh, and sorely wished that he knew what it all meant. "If this happens to Kozel...he is going to have a fit." He murmured, and nearly leapt out of his skin as Whiskey slunk out from under the bed with a meow.
"Da. It will be very bad." He mused in response, and watched the tiny animal on his bed as it tried to rise on wobbly legs. Well, it was much too scraggly to be a dog. It had hooves, too, so that could only mean that it was some kind of odd goat. "You are not so horrible, though, are you." Zharkov murmured, sitting down on the bed and running a hand down the tiny creature's back. It gave a short bleat, and moved to lean against his side, still shaky.
There was no denying that he was immediately endeared to it. His only worry now was Kozel...and he knew there was no way he could keep such a secret. Would Kozel try to approach him later, or would that be up to him? The only thing to do was to wait...
Temporarily spared from the Katchian's wrath, Zharkov swiftly made for the stairs once his companion was out of sight, and booked it to his room. After fumbling with the key, he finally managed to get himself inside, finally hidden from prying eyes so he could inspect the little beast that had come to him during the night. Or perhaps someone had left it? There was no way to know for sure. Opening his coat, he scooped the creature out and deposited him on the bed.
It was more awake, then, and blinked up at him blearily. Zharkov took the toy out of his pocket so he could make a comparison. Yes...they were exactly the same. He heaved a sigh, and sorely wished that he knew what it all meant. "If this happens to Kozel...he is going to have a fit." He murmured, and nearly leapt out of his skin as Whiskey slunk out from under the bed with a meow.
"Da. It will be very bad." He mused in response, and watched the tiny animal on his bed as it tried to rise on wobbly legs. Well, it was much too scraggly to be a dog. It had hooves, too, so that could only mean that it was some kind of odd goat. "You are not so horrible, though, are you." Zharkov murmured, sitting down on the bed and running a hand down the tiny creature's back. It gave a short bleat, and moved to lean against his side, still shaky.
There was no denying that he was immediately endeared to it. His only worry now was Kozel...and he knew there was no way he could keep such a secret. Would Kozel try to approach him later, or would that be up to him? The only thing to do was to wait...
Soldier
With the day winding down, Kozel was only more wound up. It had been another struggle where work felt more like the distraction he was trying to escape, his thoughts so often wandering and his tasks with it. He hadn't even bothered lecturing the other servants (and even the maids he stole duties from) on work ethic, proper tidying technique, anything amiss—and he could always find something. It was a quiet day in the secret, actually really mundane lives of the inn staff, and no one was more aware of that silence than Kozel, once again retreated to his room, the calm before the storm.
A storm of words, anyway, a building tirade he wanted to heap on Zharkov but why bother, when he clearly wouldn't listen or better yet change his ways, and why should he? Kozel sat at his desk with quill in hand, writing to calm his nerves, knowing he was probably keeping the Okrainan waiting, again, and putting the thought aside. Again. He had put away the toy dog in some drawer, too, consciously because it was a reminder of his own failings, subconsciously because he hated to think of it a souvenir. So Kozel was alone, unlike a certain someone, and he tried to remind himself that he had gotten used to it before.
A storm of words, anyway, a building tirade he wanted to heap on Zharkov but why bother, when he clearly wouldn't listen or better yet change his ways, and why should he? Kozel sat at his desk with quill in hand, writing to calm his nerves, knowing he was probably keeping the Okrainan waiting, again, and putting the thought aside. Again. He had put away the toy dog in some drawer, too, consciously because it was a reminder of his own failings, subconsciously because he hated to think of it a souvenir. So Kozel was alone, unlike a certain someone, and he tried to remind himself that he had gotten used to it before.
Kami
Zharkov, on the other hand, had taken things slow. Once again his neck had been messed up from sleeping upright against a hard surface, so he had decided to sleep it off. He couldn't justify going down to the docks, anyway, even if he would need the money, because he couldn't just leave the little goat-thing all on its lonesome. He had watched it explore the room for a while before drifting off to sleep for a time...
Well, his intentions had only been for a quick nap, but his tired mind had had other ideas. By the time he opened his eyes again, the light coming through the windows was dim, and he sat up quickly, looking around. It didn't take long to see where the little beast had gone; curled up with Whiskey beneath the table. The sight got a smile from him, and when he was certain that the monster was safe, he rose with a sigh. It was as good a time as any. With the day's work done, he was sure Kozel would be in his room, taking a break before the throng of evening customers filtered in. Without waking the sleeping animals, he locked his door behind himself and made his way down to the servant's room.
Zharkov completely ignored the looks he received as he slunk down the hall, scowling forlornly as he stopped infront of the door. He only hoped that Kozel wouldn't send him packing. Perhaps he had cooled down over the course of the day, and with that optimistic thought, the Okrainan rapped lightly on his friend's door.
Well, his intentions had only been for a quick nap, but his tired mind had had other ideas. By the time he opened his eyes again, the light coming through the windows was dim, and he sat up quickly, looking around. It didn't take long to see where the little beast had gone; curled up with Whiskey beneath the table. The sight got a smile from him, and when he was certain that the monster was safe, he rose with a sigh. It was as good a time as any. With the day's work done, he was sure Kozel would be in his room, taking a break before the throng of evening customers filtered in. Without waking the sleeping animals, he locked his door behind himself and made his way down to the servant's room.
Zharkov completely ignored the looks he received as he slunk down the hall, scowling forlornly as he stopped infront of the door. He only hoped that Kozel wouldn't send him packing. Perhaps he had cooled down over the course of the day, and with that optimistic thought, the Okrainan rapped lightly on his friend's door.
Soldier
Startled out of his writing by a knock at the door, Kozel gingerly put his quill and journal away with a frown. He was sure he knew who it was, though he was a bit surprised to think Zharkov would still be so bent on discussing (aka arguing) the mess as to seek him out first, impatiently even. The servant's mood was clearly not improved as he got up to answer, pulling the door open and greeting his guest with an even harder frown. "How good of you to interrupt me, Zharkov," he said disdainfully, not that his distracted writings were very soothing but, well, he didn't know that.
What they both knew was what this was about, and Kozel cut to the chase, stepping aside and motioning for Zharkov to come on in, make himself comfortable, a delightful host in his "have a seat" uttered more like a command than a kindly suggestion. It was a far cry from the meek servant who had been so anxious about entering Zharkov's room for the first time, not that Kozel realized it in himself, his dogged disappointment turning him cold.
What they both knew was what this was about, and Kozel cut to the chase, stepping aside and motioning for Zharkov to come on in, make himself comfortable, a delightful host in his "have a seat" uttered more like a command than a kindly suggestion. It was a far cry from the meek servant who had been so anxious about entering Zharkov's room for the first time, not that Kozel realized it in himself, his dogged disappointment turning him cold.
Kami
Zharkov's optimism was dashed the moment the door was open, and he wilted at the sound of Kozel's tone, his own scowl deepening as he took the invitation and stepped inside. Kozel's quarters were almost as nice as any of the upper rooms of the inn, and he wished he was visiting on happier circumstances, dolefully remembering the food they had shared from time to time. He muttered a quiet 'thank you' before taking a seat, folding his hands in his lap in an effort not to fidget. It felt odd, to feel so nervous. Kozel was such a physically unthreatening person, the last man Zharkov could imagine making him feel so on edge, and yet here they were. Was their friendship really so strong for Kozel to care so much? Or was it that he had been that horribly offensive toward his morals?
He took a breath, and heaved a little sigh. "I am sorry if I am interrupting. I could come later?" The suggestion was made in a quiet voice, his dull green eyes darting up to catch Kozel's gaze. Zharkov could be a brute of a man, but he wasn't completely without honor. Kozel had done him a great service after all, and it didn't sit well to let him seethe in his current state.
He took a breath, and heaved a little sigh. "I am sorry if I am interrupting. I could come later?" The suggestion was made in a quiet voice, his dull green eyes darting up to catch Kozel's gaze. Zharkov could be a brute of a man, but he wasn't completely without honor. Kozel had done him a great service after all, and it didn't sit well to let him seethe in his current state.
Soldier
Closing the door behind Zharkov, Kozel stood and watched his every move as though judging the man's guest conduct like a (male, foreign, entirely too severe) governess. He did not respond to the thank you, but at least that proved the Okrainan was not a completely lost cause, meeting his gaze sternly. "No, it does not matter. I have learned by now—is that not what you are good at? Disrupting the peace?" Kozel assumed Zharkov had caused the brawl that had landed him in jail, apparently never having heard of 'innocent until proven guilty,' and he did not take a seat as he approached, all the better to look down on him both literally and on the moral high ground.
Of course, despite how rigid and assured he seemed, Kozel was also nervous. The Okrainan seemed docile enough now, sure, but how long would that last? He could not push it, but he wanted Zharkov to know: "I am sorely disappointed in you, comrade. Have you no self-control at all?"
Of course, despite how rigid and assured he seemed, Kozel was also nervous. The Okrainan seemed docile enough now, sure, but how long would that last? He could not push it, but he wanted Zharkov to know: "I am sorely disappointed in you, comrade. Have you no self-control at all?"
Kami
Zharkov shifted in the chair, his lips pressing into a thin line as Kozel posed the rhetorical questions. He was no stranger to the intimidating side of the Katchian, but it had never been directed at him fully; it seemed to come out most when he was bossing his coworkers around and emphasizing rule following and hard work. He supposed it really ought not to have been so surprising, then, since he had indeed broken a rule. "I did not mean to. I did not want there to be a fight." He explained in a level tone, sitting up in the chair and remaining unrelaxed.
"I have plenty, Kozel. It is not that I do not appreciate the concern, but how is it a disappointment? It will not directly effect you....at least, I don't think it will..." Zharkov murmured the last sentence, his eyes darting away from Kozel's.
"I have plenty, Kozel. It is not that I do not appreciate the concern, but how is it a disappointment? It will not directly effect you....at least, I don't think it will..." Zharkov murmured the last sentence, his eyes darting away from Kozel's.
Soldier
Well, now. It was only a matter of time until Zharkov said something to rile Kozel up, and there it was. He placed his hand on the conspicuously barren tea table, leaning over slightly as his voice rose, incredulous. "It absolutely does affect me. A man is judged by the company he keeps, and you are reflecting poorly on me, and your country. " But right after he said that, he realized that the Okrainan probably didn't care, not as much as Kozel seemed to. Most times he tried to forget their differences in nationality, as it was largely irrelevent now in Sunderland—but it all came back in negative times like these, as he tried to separate them with such shallow differences and fall back onto the familiar shaming that so often failed him now.
He straightened again, nervously adjusting his necktie and trying to level his voice out, but still the Katchian looked strained, almost fearful. "You are too reckless, Zharkov. I try to warn you, and you do not listen." Naturally, he was thinking of the ill-fated trip into the Oldcastle forest now and sounding pretty damn bitter about it, too. "I have to wonder, with how eager you are to trespass and steal and fight and what else I am sure I do not know—" and despite the rueful tone his voice had taken, he shot Zharkov a glare at this emphasis, "—how will you continue on in this country? What if I had not been around to help you out?"
It may very well have sounded like Kozel was just guilting Zharkov into compliance, and maybe partly he was after that close call, but really it was more a tumble of worries that had been plaguing him since he had received that ridiculous note; he couldn't help but drop his commanding nature for one more scared as he looked away himself, sounding ashamed. "It would affect me very much if I were to lose your friendship."
He straightened again, nervously adjusting his necktie and trying to level his voice out, but still the Katchian looked strained, almost fearful. "You are too reckless, Zharkov. I try to warn you, and you do not listen." Naturally, he was thinking of the ill-fated trip into the Oldcastle forest now and sounding pretty damn bitter about it, too. "I have to wonder, with how eager you are to trespass and steal and fight and what else I am sure I do not know—" and despite the rueful tone his voice had taken, he shot Zharkov a glare at this emphasis, "—how will you continue on in this country? What if I had not been around to help you out?"
It may very well have sounded like Kozel was just guilting Zharkov into compliance, and maybe partly he was after that close call, but really it was more a tumble of worries that had been plaguing him since he had received that ridiculous note; he couldn't help but drop his commanding nature for one more scared as he looked away himself, sounding ashamed. "It would affect me very much if I were to lose your friendship."
Kami
Zharkoved winced, and looked away, still scowling, but moreso in a crestfallen manner, rather than an angry one. It wasn't that he was surprised to hear Kozel playing that card, but it still stung, and parts of it were true. He had never had the intention of making Kozel look bad, and now he could feel nice and guilty about that as well. Wonderful. He shifted in his seat again before loosely folding his arms, listening as Kozel went on.
His own thoughts were a mess, and he couldn't help but think that maybe Kozel was overreacting just a bit; they would both be alright, and the whole thing would blow over. Maybe there would be a little gossip, sure, but words were just words. He was about to respond, when Kozel's admission clammed him up, and he reached to rub his face.
"I would not want to lose yours either, Kozel. But we haven't!" He reminded, hand dropping away so that he could look up at him again, expression a little less severe. "I am not so eager to do any of those things. I work for a living, do I not? It was just small slip up. I will not let it happen again, Kozel, you do not need to worry yourself so much." He was horribly tempted to tack on more sorries, but he felt as if he had apologized enough already. "You are a trustworthy person, Kozel. Good friend. You can trust me on this."
His own thoughts were a mess, and he couldn't help but think that maybe Kozel was overreacting just a bit; they would both be alright, and the whole thing would blow over. Maybe there would be a little gossip, sure, but words were just words. He was about to respond, when Kozel's admission clammed him up, and he reached to rub his face.
"I would not want to lose yours either, Kozel. But we haven't!" He reminded, hand dropping away so that he could look up at him again, expression a little less severe. "I am not so eager to do any of those things. I work for a living, do I not? It was just small slip up. I will not let it happen again, Kozel, you do not need to worry yourself so much." He was horribly tempted to tack on more sorries, but he felt as if he had apologized enough already. "You are a trustworthy person, Kozel. Good friend. You can trust me on this."
Soldier
Having expected Zharkov to get defensive in anger, Kozel's brows lifted in surprise as he looked back at the man, still making dubious arguments but seemingly understanding. And, the Katchian could not deny, he was a bit touched to be called trustworthy. The fact the Okrainan had gone to him for help hadn't escaped Kozel, even if he had ignored him for one night... but Zharkov hadn't brought it up, so he was safe with that little shame for now. Maybe next time, he would be quicker—wait no, no, the point was there would be no next time.
He tipped his head in reluctant assent, looking less grim but still frowning as though he expected Zharkov to go off and get into more trouble as soon as he left the room. "Yes, you do work for a living, I suppose it is not as though you are a complete layabout." Granted, manual labor was not the kind of work Kozel would ever want to do, but it was honest toil so he had to give Zharkov points for that. "Maybe you should work more. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, as they say." Coming from anyone else, this might have been a joke, but from the workaholic servant, well...
Kozel sighed, but relented. "No, you are right. I should trust you." He fiddled with his sleeves, perhaps not looking quite so content or victorious, but it was certainly an improvement from his mean authoritarian streak.
He tipped his head in reluctant assent, looking less grim but still frowning as though he expected Zharkov to go off and get into more trouble as soon as he left the room. "Yes, you do work for a living, I suppose it is not as though you are a complete layabout." Granted, manual labor was not the kind of work Kozel would ever want to do, but it was honest toil so he had to give Zharkov points for that. "Maybe you should work more. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, as they say." Coming from anyone else, this might have been a joke, but from the workaholic servant, well...
Kozel sighed, but relented. "No, you are right. I should trust you." He fiddled with his sleeves, perhaps not looking quite so content or victorious, but it was certainly an improvement from his mean authoritarian streak.
