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[It's been a few busy days of settling into the (relative, because it's no theater of war but certainly not a picnic either) insanity of the city, which means Dorian's starting to look in on the people he's met that he actually likes.]
How are you doing, Larus? Taken up journaling yourself yet?
How are you doing, Larus? Taken up journaling yourself yet?
MEET STEFAN SALVATORE! YOU TWO SHOULD TALK ABOUT NONCON ❤️🔥
[ Between the favors he calls in and a few hours sifting through the public records, Carver's able to put a face to the name he was given. The city isn't that big in the end, and he has the insomnia advantage giving him plenty of time to scout the area and - eventually - put eyes on the man he's looking for.
Larus. Submissive. Not a wild partier. Tends to wander, and keep to himself. Carver follows him for a while, keeping his distance. Noting where he goes, and when, and who he talks to. It's tedious work but he's done it before, and the key really is patience.
So, he watches. And the clock ticks down, edging closer to the deadline with very little to show for it. Not good enough.
So, one night, he approaches. Follows Larus into Subversion, on the assumption that it's not quite as loud or crowded as some of the other options, and orders himself a drink he doesn't intend to judge. He's cleaned himself up since getting tossed in Duplicity, though most of his clothes are old and battered. He favors layers, to serve as armor and to hide his knives. It's the sort of thing that stands out here.
He forgoes the hood, this time. Just keeps it simple. And he watches, and he waits, and he doesn't drink the vodka he ordered. And when there's an opening to get in a little closer, Carver takes it. ]
You new? To the city, I mean.
Larus. Submissive. Not a wild partier. Tends to wander, and keep to himself. Carver follows him for a while, keeping his distance. Noting where he goes, and when, and who he talks to. It's tedious work but he's done it before, and the key really is patience.
So, he watches. And the clock ticks down, edging closer to the deadline with very little to show for it. Not good enough.
So, one night, he approaches. Follows Larus into Subversion, on the assumption that it's not quite as loud or crowded as some of the other options, and orders himself a drink he doesn't intend to judge. He's cleaned himself up since getting tossed in Duplicity, though most of his clothes are old and battered. He favors layers, to serve as armor and to hide his knives. It's the sort of thing that stands out here.
He forgoes the hood, this time. Just keeps it simple. And he watches, and he waits, and he doesn't drink the vodka he ordered. And when there's an opening to get in a little closer, Carver takes it. ]
You new? To the city, I mean.
[ Everything is the same as it always is: boring, slow. Maybe it's because he's used to worse than this, moving through the Up in an effort to collect information about the people who visit certain places and what that might tell him about Duplicity in general. Larus is finding out it's really nothing, which is kind of annoying, and not wanting to return to the suite he shares with Dorian so early, he decides to slip into a place he's never really been before.
Subversion, surprisingly, is quiet, but often, he finds that's when it's the loudest, counting each of the heartbeats he can detect inside and only approaching the bar to appear somewhat normal. Larus doesn't like the waste of alcohol unless it's laced with blood (and even then never indulges), and yet, he orders a drink and sits in a corner by himself to simply observe things as they play out. A few others stumbling in, even more taking things to one of the private rooms. He hides his frown at the sounds he detects when certain doors open and is close to getting up to leave when he's approached. The other man's pulse is strong, conscious of the heartbeats for a moment before letting his gaze settle on him. ]
Depends on what you mean by new. [ But he's reminded he needs to make connections here and sighs to himself. ] It's been about a month. [ And a pause. ] Do you want to sit?
Subversion, surprisingly, is quiet, but often, he finds that's when it's the loudest, counting each of the heartbeats he can detect inside and only approaching the bar to appear somewhat normal. Larus doesn't like the waste of alcohol unless it's laced with blood (and even then never indulges), and yet, he orders a drink and sits in a corner by himself to simply observe things as they play out. A few others stumbling in, even more taking things to one of the private rooms. He hides his frown at the sounds he detects when certain doors open and is close to getting up to leave when he's approached. The other man's pulse is strong, conscious of the heartbeats for a moment before letting his gaze settle on him. ]
Depends on what you mean by new. [ But he's reminded he needs to make connections here and sighs to himself. ] It's been about a month. [ And a pause. ] Do you want to sit?
[A few days have passed since strange events had started sweeping over the city once again. Dorian hasn’t noticed feeling any different, and for the most part his daily routines with Larus have been undisturbed. It’s only when the vampire slips out one evening and then offers nothing but radio silence through the network that Dorian starts to wonder if something is going on.
He’s out and about in the Up in the early evening when he decides to try and make contact.]
It’s been two days.
You must be caught up in something interesting. [Except that he’d send him a text if he was. But Dorian’s not going to jump to conclusions yet if he can get something out of Larus now.]
He’s out and about in the Up in the early evening when he decides to try and make contact.]
It’s been two days.
You must be caught up in something interesting. [Except that he’d send him a text if he was. But Dorian’s not going to jump to conclusions yet if he can get something out of Larus now.]
Edited 2022-04-25 13:18 (UTC)
[ larus doesn't respond for a good fifteen minutes, mostly because he's in the process of wiping blood off his face. the temptation to lick it clean is there, but he's been incredibly sated for the last day or so. still a waste but nothing that really matters to him, which is kind of a shame since he'd only bitten the last person out of boredom. he touches the tip of his tongue to his fangs and sighs to himself.
and with that same sort of air, he finally glances at the text message waiting for him. ]
why? is that your way of saying you miss me?
and with that same sort of air, he finally glances at the text message waiting for him. ]
why? is that your way of saying you miss me?
hey, sup
stuff's been kinda wild lately and all
but I just wanted to say hi, see how you were
ask you an amazingly difficult question:
if you had to get a pet, what would you get?
stuff's been kinda wild lately and all
but I just wanted to say hi, see how you were
ask you an amazingly difficult question:
if you had to get a pet, what would you get?
[ It's been a long time since Carver's gotten well and truly drunk. He'll take whiskey or scotch every once and a while, or drink wine with Bela, but there are rules against letting his guard down in any real way. Pope's rules, long held and hard won, and rigorously enforced. He accepts them, understands them, abides by them.
Yet, he can't sleep. Especially in this place, where there are so many people underfoot. The noise of them grating like a blade to bone. He ends up wandering at night, growing tenser and tenser. He can't sleep. Can't settle. Feels himself losing the thread just a little.
And then he goes out, and he puts on the mask they give him - why the fuck not? - and starts doing shots. The alcohol burns going down until he does enough that it doesn't anymore, until the feeling turns smooth and sweet and suddenly everything feels easy. And then people are pressing up against him, fucking in the corners, and it's about a fifty-fifty split whether he punches the next person who touches him or makes out with them in front of everyone.
It's a mix of both, in the end. He's drifting from moment to moment, focus snapping back and forth, and he makes out with a woman who grabs him by the hair and punches a man who brushes up against him - possibly by accident. And then makes out with him too. He loses the mask at some point and by then everyone's drunk or otherwise distracted enough that they don't care. And the lights are flashing, casting strange shadows, and he starts getting paranoid about what's creeping up in his corners when he isn't putting his hands on strangers or getting groped by them in turn.
Not a good combination when he's got his knives with him. He retreats back to a corner to cool down, center himself, try to decide whether to try and sober up or double down and do more. Get blackout drunk like how he hasn't in more than a decade. He's got his back firmly to the wall, hands twitching, and that's when he notices Larus.
Carver squints at him. ]
What're you doing here?
[ He wouldn't have thought this was Larus's thing. But then again, it's not Carver's either - not unless he's wasted and he's made a good effort already toward getting there. ]
Yet, he can't sleep. Especially in this place, where there are so many people underfoot. The noise of them grating like a blade to bone. He ends up wandering at night, growing tenser and tenser. He can't sleep. Can't settle. Feels himself losing the thread just a little.
And then he goes out, and he puts on the mask they give him - why the fuck not? - and starts doing shots. The alcohol burns going down until he does enough that it doesn't anymore, until the feeling turns smooth and sweet and suddenly everything feels easy. And then people are pressing up against him, fucking in the corners, and it's about a fifty-fifty split whether he punches the next person who touches him or makes out with them in front of everyone.
It's a mix of both, in the end. He's drifting from moment to moment, focus snapping back and forth, and he makes out with a woman who grabs him by the hair and punches a man who brushes up against him - possibly by accident. And then makes out with him too. He loses the mask at some point and by then everyone's drunk or otherwise distracted enough that they don't care. And the lights are flashing, casting strange shadows, and he starts getting paranoid about what's creeping up in his corners when he isn't putting his hands on strangers or getting groped by them in turn.
Not a good combination when he's got his knives with him. He retreats back to a corner to cool down, center himself, try to decide whether to try and sober up or double down and do more. Get blackout drunk like how he hasn't in more than a decade. He's got his back firmly to the wall, hands twitching, and that's when he notices Larus.
Carver squints at him. ]
What're you doing here?
[ He wouldn't have thought this was Larus's thing. But then again, it's not Carver's either - not unless he's wasted and he's made a good effort already toward getting there. ]
[ Larus doesn't know why he bothers with any of this. If there's anything he's learned, it's that this city is just the same as Duplicity. Perhaps a little different in terms of what they can and cannot do, exactly, but there's no freedom in it. They're given their roles and told to play them out, placated by drugs and drink and any other known vice. He's not infallible either, is the thing. He's tempted just as much, stalking through various places until he winds up in one where he has to put on a mask—like it'll hide his face. Larus obliges and continues moving, ignoring the hands groping at his sides and someone who makes a pull for his hair. He nearly breaks their wrist until they laugh it off and move on.
All the smells, the sounds. The echo of every heartbeat in that place just as loud as the music, and it's only one that he somehow, immediately, picks out.
Carver. Carver's there.
Someone shoves a drink into his hand as he tries to narrow it down, encouraging him to take a taste, and Larus gags a little on its contents, his body already protesting anything that isn't blood. He's not starving, but it's a fine line he walks, dropping the glass on the floor and sliding through the grinding, fucking bodies around him to chase after what he wants. The heat that slowly begins to creep up the back of his neck doesn't mean anything.
He stares at Carver when he's finally within reach. ]
I could ask you the same thing.
[ His eyes sweep over him, trying to take in what he can. Something's not quite right, but too much is going on for Larus to really pinpoint exactly what it is right now. ]
All the smells, the sounds. The echo of every heartbeat in that place just as loud as the music, and it's only one that he somehow, immediately, picks out.
Carver. Carver's there.
Someone shoves a drink into his hand as he tries to narrow it down, encouraging him to take a taste, and Larus gags a little on its contents, his body already protesting anything that isn't blood. He's not starving, but it's a fine line he walks, dropping the glass on the floor and sliding through the grinding, fucking bodies around him to chase after what he wants. The heat that slowly begins to creep up the back of his neck doesn't mean anything.
He stares at Carver when he's finally within reach. ]
I could ask you the same thing.
[ His eyes sweep over him, trying to take in what he can. Something's not quite right, but too much is going on for Larus to really pinpoint exactly what it is right now. ]
[ Under normal circumstances, Khadgar would be better than this. He hasn't been working enough, so he hasn't been busy enough, and he can't afford to buy anything to occupy himself either. In between trying not to think about how long he's been stuck in Duplicity, he can't fight the thought that it's been ages since Larus has fed from him. It hasn't actually been all that long probably, but it's been enough time that the ache is harder to ignore, and he finds himself heading through the Down before he loses his nerve.
He gets to the door and knocks, part of him hoping that there won't be an answer and he can just go back to suffering on his own. He realizes he should have sent a message or called or done anything to ask permission to visit, but it's too late now. ]
He gets to the door and knocks, part of him hoping that there won't be an answer and he can just go back to suffering on his own. He realizes he should have sent a message or called or done anything to ask permission to visit, but it's too late now. ]
[ He's really not in the mood to have visitors, but then again, he never usually is. So, when he pulls the door open – only mere seconds after that knock, he'd heard his heartbeat – Larus just looks at Khadgar and frowns. There's no harshness to it, watching him as he steps back to allow him in. ]
What are you doing here?
[ While his company is unexpected, it's mostly that he hadn't sent any sort of notification that he'd be there. ]
What are you doing here?
[ While his company is unexpected, it's mostly that he hadn't sent any sort of notification that he'd be there. ]
[ Strange things have been happening lately. And as a result, Carver hasn't been sleeping. But he wanders, and he hears things in the corners, and -
Yeah. ]
Something's happening. Weird shit. You okay?
Yeah. ]
Something's happening. Weird shit. You okay?
Hey, have you seen Daphne recently?
[ After the Violent Delights party, Khadgar takes some time to get himself cleaned up and just be alone, but he can only stand the solitude for so long. He knew it might be strange to come back to the outside world, but he wasn't expecting to push so many of his limits so far past normal, and the drop is harsher than he'd expected. He considers reaching out to the people who offered aftercare, but they're all strangers, and he's not sure if he has the energy to deal with anyone else new at the moment.
He curses to himself as he reaches for his device. He never likes asking for help, and it makes him feel even weaker and pathetic at the moment, but he's not sure what he'll do if he's left to his own devices for too much longer. ]
Hi. Are you busy?
I'm a little messed up at the moment and I don't know who else to talk to.
He curses to himself as he reaches for his device. He never likes asking for help, and it makes him feel even weaker and pathetic at the moment, but he's not sure what he'll do if he's left to his own devices for too much longer. ]
Hi. Are you busy?
I'm a little messed up at the moment and I don't know who else to talk to.
[ Larus hasn't really heard much from anyone about the party because he doesn't frequent those types of things himself, and if it's unusual to not hear from Khadgar, he doesn't think about it. What's more, his expression narrows a little at the message he receives, suddenly unsure how he feels about it. ]
what do you mean you're messed up? did something happen?
[ That could very well be concern. ]
what do you mean you're messed up? did something happen?
[ That could very well be concern. ]
[ It's easy to get lost in the Down - or to make it look that way to strangers. Especially the natives, who either don't care or make a habit of seeing idiots like Carver and the rest in the worst possible light. Inconveniences at best, or opportunities. And he's alone, and they have knives. Much like the one currently sticking out of his hand. Carver stares at it, narrow-eyed, as the last one flees with his broken arm. There's another unconscious on the ground, just waiting to be frisked and robbed of everything Carver cares to bring along with.
But first: there's a knife in his hand. Straight through the glove and into his palm.
That's fun.
He exhales through his teeth, flexing his fingers and hissing at the sudden pain. ]
Didn't get enough the first time?
[ There's someone watching. He can tell. ]
But first: there's a knife in his hand. Straight through the glove and into his palm.
That's fun.
He exhales through his teeth, flexing his fingers and hissing at the sudden pain. ]
Didn't get enough the first time?
[ There's someone watching. He can tell. ]
[ As it so happens, he's just wandering by when he hears the fight. It's about a block or so over, and Larus would have ignored it if not for the familiar but still unusual heartbeat he picks up. Carver. It's like he knows, somehow, and there are things Larus has started to wonder at since the last time they'd seen each other. How long this would continue, what it might be if it's anything at all. They're his usual thoughts, pausing only briefly when Carver picks up on the fact he's there—not that he'd been too subtle about it.
He steps out from the shadows with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, relaxed and expression neutral.
Until he smells the blood. ]
I'd rather avoid getting stabbed. [ He keeps his distance but for an entirely unrelated matter. ] I didn't think I had to make sure you weren't going to hurt yourself.
He steps out from the shadows with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, relaxed and expression neutral.
Until he smells the blood. ]
I'd rather avoid getting stabbed. [ He keeps his distance but for an entirely unrelated matter. ] I didn't think I had to make sure you weren't going to hurt yourself.
]Do you actually eat?
Or is it just blood?
Or is it just blood?
[ this is not how she plans on reaching out to him, to tell the truth, and she definitely doesn't relish doing it this way after she's been out of commission for nearly a month. nevertheless, he's the first person who comes to mind when she finds herself in the position she does. ]
Larus? [ she sounds -- strained, but it's hard to tell why. the feed is grainy, flickering in and out. apparently the device had taken a bad fall itself, garbling part of what she says. ] - know if you will get this - if you do -
Help.
Larus? [ she sounds -- strained, but it's hard to tell why. the feed is grainy, flickering in and out. apparently the device had taken a bad fall itself, garbling part of what she says. ] - know if you will get this - if you do -
Help.
[ worse than that, the video isn't exceptionally clear either. so, all he has to go on is her voice, and that's perplexing enough on its own since he hasn't heard from her since she fell unconscious. rather than send a video back, he hopes that the text will go through and is already on his way when he realizes he isn't sure where she's at. ]
tell me where you are.
tell me where you are.
I'm not dead. Where are you?
[ Frost sent a message, apparently, but Carver was pretty out of it then. He's less so now. ]
[ Frost sent a message, apparently, but Carver was pretty out of it then. He's less so now. ]
have you ever been to the SLUT center?
[ his tone is filled with affection, soft and sweet as it usually is when he talks to larus. ]
Hello, dear-heart! I just wanted to let you know that if you're planning on stopping by at any point, be cautious when you climb up. We're doing a bit of renovations, and I wouldn't want anyone, especially you, to get hurt.
Hello, dear-heart! I just wanted to let you know that if you're planning on stopping by at any point, be cautious when you climb up. We're doing a bit of renovations, and I wouldn't want anyone, especially you, to get hurt.
[ he isn't sure he wants to pick up the call, but it's not like he's ever opposed to talking to jaskier. there's a soft breath in response, almost like a sigh. ]
If I was worried about getting hurt, I wouldn't be using your window to get into your room.
If I was worried about getting hurt, I wouldn't be using your window to get into your room.
[ on the first night of yule, if larus stops by the brothel, he'll find a small gift bag hanging on the window handle with a tag that reads his name in an elegant script. inside, he'll find a key hanging from a delicate gold chain and a small note. it reads: ]
My dear Larus,
Know that you are always welcome within these four walls, whether I'm there to share them with you or not.
The same is true for my heart.
Yours, unless you wish otherwise,
𝒥𝓊𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝒜𝓁𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝒫𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓏, 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉 ℴ𝒻 ℒℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃𝒽ℴ𝓋ℯ
My dear Larus,
Know that you are always welcome within these four walls, whether I'm there to share them with you or not.
The same is true for my heart.
Yours, unless you wish otherwise,
𝒥𝓊𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝒜𝓁𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝒫𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓏, 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉 ℴ𝒻 ℒℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃𝒽ℴ𝓋ℯ
[ it's the variation of a tradition he's seen and heard mentions of throughout duplicity, but there had never really been something like this back in the dusk. (if there was, he hadn't been aware of it.) and even his own home had only minor gift exchanges—mostly birthdays and anniversaries and maybe weddings. so, it's not completely unexpected, but larus' feelings about the contents of the bag settle heavy in his chest.
he'd climbed into jaskier's room to look inside and read the message, findig it to be currently unoccupied by a certain bard. ]
i'm not particularly good at gifts, but thank you.
[ there's more he should say in the text he sends, settling for running his fingers over the closing sentence of the note instead. ]
he'd climbed into jaskier's room to look inside and read the message, findig it to be currently unoccupied by a certain bard. ]
i'm not particularly good at gifts, but thank you.
[ there's more he should say in the text he sends, settling for running his fingers over the closing sentence of the note instead. ]
A bright red box with a silver ribbon is delivered to Larus. Inside are pink snowflake sugar cookies and a fun selfie. The back of the picture reads:
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you for being amazing! 💗 Elle
[ Elle... you're so cute. But also? Larus has no idea what to do with any of this. Maybe he'll see if someone else wants to eat the cookies.
Still, he thinks he should probably send her a message in regards to the gift (and the photo) he's received. ]
does christmas mean you're supposed to have antlers?
Still, he thinks he should probably send her a message in regards to the gift (and the photo) he's received. ]
does christmas mean you're supposed to have antlers?
I really need you not to touch the raw meat in the fridge. I'm saving it for someone.
I do apologize for my behavior, still. Of course, you must know I am apologetic, given my messages. I will resort to much baser attempts at biding for your forgiveness, then.
( img attached. (+ a bounty of chest hair ok) )
I want you. Endlessly.
( img attached. (+ a bounty of chest hair ok) )
I want you. Endlessly.
[ clearly something is happening in the city for him to get these messages; at least, this time, he checks the attached pic in the bio.
...but that doesn't mean he's going to say anything. yet. ]
do you really think that's enough for me to accept anything from you?
...but that doesn't mean he's going to say anything. yet. ]
do you really think that's enough for me to accept anything from you?
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