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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 10, 2011 22:17:20 GMT -5
"If you're not ready, you can just stay in the tavern. Malcolm doesn't strike me as someone who's going to want to run down the streets 'pillaging and burning' so to speak."Seriah informed the mercenary. He was sure sitting around while everyone else stormed the castle was not how Draven wanted to spend his time, but he'd have little choice unless he just wanted to get himself killed.
Mm.. he was going to have to gather up the maps he had outlining the few secret passages he could find for their parties way into the castle. He followed Draven's gaze over the Ashemir and his desk- normally quite cluttered, but he'd pushed enough things out of the way so Ashemir wasn't forced to always write on the couch, especially while it was mostly occupied these days. He wasn't about to tear the blonde away from his writing if inspiration had him, though. Looking back to Draven, he asked, "How long have you been a mercenary?"
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 10, 2011 22:31:28 GMT -5
"Shit, I don't know," Draven said, lifting a hand to scratch his head again. "It's been a long time since I decided on the occupation. I'd have to say I've been doing it for, say... five hundred and fifty years, there around?" He had to think about it, the look of pondering that crossed his face serious. Finally, he gave up on trying to do the math and shrugged his shoulders, which he instantly regretted, though he didn't flinch like usual. "Why do you ask?" he questioned, raising a brow and smiling again.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 10, 2011 22:40:18 GMT -5
"It's called 'getting to know you'." Seriah elaborated, his tone just a little mocking, though with good humor intended. "We don't particularly know each other, beyond the bare minimum. I am not a bare minimum kind of man." He trusted his instincts when he started to get to know people, but the more he knows about some one, the greater he can understand them, predict their movements, gauge their loyalty... Not so much because he questioned one, or another, but you have to know someone to know someone. "So, why did you become a mercenary?"
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 11, 2011 7:51:38 GMT -5
"Oh, sorry." Draven looked rather embarrassed by Seriah's reply and he smiled awkwardly. Of course Seriah would want to know him more. He knew nothing about the warlord either, just that his loyalties were with him one hundred percent. The next question seemed to darken his mood and his smile disappeared, his eyes dropping. "Ah, that's something I'd rather not relive," he muttered, knowing he would tell anyways. "I became a mercenary as it gave me everything I needed to go after Marrus. I could travel to look for him and I had the weaponry and ability to fight. I didn't expect him... Like he was." He shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Seriah again, his expression rather defeated in that moment.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 11, 2011 19:30:34 GMT -5
Seriah was about to take back his question, when Draven made it clear it wasn't a place he wanted to go, but then the other man plunged into his story anyway. He listened politely, wondering just how Draven and his brother had reached such a schism. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aiming to fig up anything painful." He tipped his head, pushing a handful of dark brown hair back from his face, before commenting, "We can't do much about your brother immediately, but when things are more settled I can offer you resources to get rid of him. I've little tolerance for rogues."
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 11, 2011 19:56:17 GMT -5
Draven nodded his head. He'd probably be well enough by the end of the vampire uprising to go after Marrus again. Which would make things wonderful if he had the extra help. Catching his insane bastard of a brother again was going to be challenge enough. It'd taken him decades to find him this time and look where he'd ended up! Seriah wouldn't tolerate a rogue in his city, let alone running around the country when he ruled it. So Draven felt secure the warlord would help him to find and kill Marrus. With a small smile, he chuckled. "Marrus is beyond rogue," he said, darkly. "He's just... Marrus." He shrugged, slightly.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 11, 2011 20:19:33 GMT -5
"We are what we are, and it has its repercussions." Seriah replied, spreading his hands. Vampires had been suffering that lesson for to long not to have it imprinted in their DNA by now. Not sure what he could add to that, he lifted his hand to the keyboard of his piano, lightly pressing a series of keys down. It summoned a pleasant, but meaningless sound, before he dropped his hand again.
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 12, 2011 7:58:03 GMT -5
Draven watched Seriah closely as he tinkered with the keys on the piano. Ah, if only he could play again... The thought forced a sigh from him and he closed his eyes and let his head drop back. How long had it been since he'd played music? Almost as long as he'd been a mercenary... "Seriah, do you happen to know any music for the piano?" he asked. He figured it was a rather stupid question as Seriah had the instrument so why wouldn't he know how to play it?
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 12, 2011 16:08:34 GMT -5
Drevn's question pulled Seriah's eyes back the the piano, and he considered how to answer. "I do." It was impossible to look at the piano without seeing Lirit, and he carefully placed his fingers where he knew his sire's would have been, before beginning to play. The sound the piano created was still amazingly in tune for something so old, the melody it now created sweet, almost up beat. When he hit a wrong note, a mistake Lirit never would have made, he lifted his hands from the keys despite not being far into the song. He chuckled at the mistake, though it sounded tight. "Do you play anything, Draven?"
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 12, 2011 16:23:08 GMT -5
Draven chuckled, slowly lifting himself to his feet and moving to stand beside Seriah as the warlord played. It was wonderful to hear music like that again. He sighed sadly when Seriah quit after the wrong note was played. He longed to play something himself, though he didn't know much of the piano. And it was almost as if Seriah had read his mind, asking if he played anything. He nodded slowly, though reminded himself that Seriah wasn't looking at him so he should probably speak. "I play guitar," he said, softly, a sad note to his words. "I used to play so that... Well, so that someone could sing to my music... But that was long ago. I haven't picked up a guitar in centuries..." He turned away. Thinking about that was hard. He didn't want to at the moment.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 12, 2011 16:45:53 GMT -5
"I'm better with the lute, myself. My sire was the pianist." He looked up at Draven, carefully tucking his own painful thoughts away to keep them from his expression, "Wouldn't continuing to play be a way of remembering that person? But I understand if it's simply to painful to hold onto the things that remind us of those people we've lost." Apparently he and Draven had opposite ways of dealing with their losses. He immersed himself in the music and objects that reminded him so painfully of his lost, and Draven never touched a guitar again. Neither seemed to be the most effective way to deal with grief, but Seriah wasn't willing to change his ways, so he doubted Draven wanted to play psychiatrist either. And of course, Ashemir seemed to have nearly hermitted himself over his own loss.
(Vampire mourning is serious business XD)
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 12, 2011 16:52:55 GMT -5
"The only reason I never played again was because I mourned her for three months." The words escaped him before he had a chance to hold them back and he almost flinched from the emotion behind them. Was it something he could talk about, those three months of fasting that nearly killed him? He doubted he could do so without breaking down. He sighed and lifted a hand to run down his face, ruffling his hair and resting it against the back of his neck. "I quit playing because I moved on to training myself," he muttered miserably. "If I could play again, I would play for days, until my fingers could no longer move even... I've never had time to actually stop and pick up a guitar to play. Otherwise, I would. Marrus killed her and destroyed everything that reminded me of her but her pendant and her ring."
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 12, 2011 17:14:28 GMT -5
Seriah looked up at Draven, "I'm sorry." Well, Seriah certainly understood throwing yourself into something after such a loss. He'd hardly cared about revolutions, or really anyone else when he'd had Lirit with him. "Marrus's time in this world is running out, rest assured." He considered suggesting Draven pick up a guitar, there were certainly fine instruments available in Issilt, but he decided against it. Draven would find his way to an instrument when he was ready for it. Perhaps after Marrus was dead, the music would sound sweeter.
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Post by Draven Hunter on Jan 12, 2011 19:20:40 GMT -5
"Don't be sorry," Draven said, turning back around. His eyes watched Ashemir's back for the longest time before he pried his gaze away and looked at Seriah. "I have my reasons for breaking her promise now," he said, quietly. "It's time to move on. When Marrus is dead, I won't have a reason to stick around anymore, as I've told Ashemir." He gave the warlord a nod as if saying 'nothing you can say will change my mind' and crossed his arms. Although, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that there were things that would convince him to stick around but he doubted if Seriah even cared, being who he was.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 12, 2011 19:36:28 GMT -5
Seriah's brows rose, startled by the information that Draven wouldn't be sticking around. Right, he was a mercenary, they didn't tend to pledge loyalty for (un)life.. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that Draven wouldn't become a permanent part of what he was creating. And apparently wasn't willing to be convinced otherwise. "Of course.." Draven was leaving, Ashemir would probably retreat back to the mountains. Oh god, did that make Valmar his only buddy?
Seriah sagged, leaning his elbow on the keyboard in order to prop his cheek in his palm. The gesture left the piano thrumming deeply from the pressed keys.
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