ioduanlogs | [OPEN] bleeding, I'm bleeding

Entry tags:

[OPEN] bleeding, I'm bleeding

Characters: Kit + you??
Date: Throughout early February
Location: Throughout Aifaran
Situation: After a frustrating encounter with a Sentry, Kit makes a concerted effort to find a place to chill and figure out why the hell he's still alive.
Warnings/Rating: probable discussion of how Kit died in Thedas, which was a rather grisly prospect.

i. a case of mistaken identity

It's just like being back in Dust Town all over again, with the brand on his face doing more to convince the Proving guards of his guilt than anything he might say in defence of his own innocence. That is, possibly, why he nearly comes to blows with the Sentry before the fellow accusing him of the crime--what crime, who even knows--decides to back off.

"No," the fellow decides, "no I don't think it was him after all--the other fellow was--" and he mimes the universal sign for 'taller.' Much taller. And without the chirruping bibiru still riding side-saddle in Kit's backpack.

"Yeah, you're damn right it wasn't me." Defensive and in no mood for pleasantries, Kit splits off from the unpleasant encounter as soon as he's certain the Sentry has lost interest, and stalks off down the road, lit cigarette stuck between his lips. He knows that there are eyes following his progress, but sod it, let them stare. Let them. He didn't do a damn thing.

The bibiru, agitated, chirps into his ear, and on instinct Kit reaches back to give the furry thing's ears an affectionate pet. "Sorry about that, salroka," he murmurs.

In Kirkwall, he'd have gone to the Hanged Man, lost himself in a round too many of Wicked Grace with the usual rotten suspects (and maybe lost his share of the rent money, too). Here in Aifaran, he doesn't know where to go to lie low. With a bit of his monthly stipend, he purchases a ticket for the skyrail and boards it; he doesn't have a destination in mind, but that doesn't stop him from slumping into one of the seats by the window.

Numb--and yet not numb, for his hand regularly wanders to the place in his gut where the Coterie thug's dagger had ripped into him, killing him--he stares out the window at the Seaglass City as it unfolds beneath him.

Maybe you're on the train with him. Maybe you're not--he's got his yimo with him, after all.

ii. peace at last

There's a beach somewhere in or around Aifaran, and that's where Kit ends up. He sits on the sand, smokes his cigarette, and watches the waves come in across the dark sand. Somewhere nearby, his bibiru hops about and forages in the nearby grasses. Kit keeps an eye on it--him? Her? He hasn't bothered to check.

After some time, reasonably convinced he's alone, he pulls off his shirt and chucks it aside, then turns his gaze nervously to the supernaturally healed laceration that raggedly cuts across his stomach. He tenderly explores it with fingers, and lets out a shuddering breath. He'd died. He knows this wound had killed him, had left him dead in the Medicine Seller's arms in some shit hole corner of Darktown.

So why is he here now? Why is any of this happening?

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Devin has never really spent much time at the beach. He's the only daywalker of his race, as far as he knows, and sunbathing isn't really a thing that vampires do. Now that he's basically living on a semi-tropical island, however, there's a lot more beach to consider. It's more isolated than being in the city proper, and it might be a decent place for a walk.

Kit is correct that he's alone at first, but it's not long before Devin is trundling up the beach, barefoot with his shoes in his hand so he can wander through the surf. He spots Kit from quite a distance and carries on until he's within earshot. "Getting some R&R after all that searching?" Devin calls, gesturing to the sand around them.

At least this time, Kit spots his approach. He smiles crookedly, tiredly, and blows out a whorl of smoke before tapping off the excess ash from his cigarette.

"Yeah, maybe," he replies, watches the strange man's approach, then turns to look back out across what he can see of the bay. The horizon is anything but uninterrupted; they're living on an archipelago after all. The bibiru nearby seems to take its comfort cues from the dwarf who rescued it, and since Kit isn't up in arms about the newcomer, it continues its grazing and nibbling uninterrupted.

"What about you?" Kit asks Devin, watching him with a look on his tattooed face that's hard to read. The guy's been about as personable as a slightly abrasive and complete stranger can possibly be, but he read Kit like an open book when they'd crossed paths in the aftermath of the festival. That makes him someone to keep an eye on. (Especially since, as he discovered recently, his left ear isn't good for shit anymore.)

Studying people is what kept Devin alive in his world, and being naturally stealthy doesn't hurt. Kit's intriguing, thus far, and not currently considered a threat of any kind. There are aspects of what he's seen from the dwarf that remind him of his own habits.

The vampire shrugs as he gets closer, coming to a halt a few paces away. "Just walking." He glances at the scar across Kit's torso; his own arms feature marks of multiple old wounds, and for now he doesn't comment. "I've never had the time for beaches before. I suppose I'm trying to figure out the appeal."

Kit's scar looks like evidence of the kind of wound that probably should have killed him. Maybe it did.

He notices Devin's glance, looks down, then grimaces and reaches for the shirt he'd discarded. "What's not to like?" he says instead, clearly latching onto discussion of the appeal of beaches and shorelines and such, rather than fielding any personal inquiries about where in the sodding Void he found the time to acquire an injury like that. He would just--prefer not to.

"Plenty of sunshine, water's calm enough for swimming--the waves sound nice." He makes a vague gesture with one hand, takes another drag from his cigarette, and blows out the smoke. Then he gives Devin a shrewd look. "Who are you anyway?"

Devin can readily admit he hasn't seen scars like that on normal people, seeing as those sorts of injuries were rarely survivable. Some of the ones the vampire bore were similarly significant, so he understands the impulse to hide them even if he no longer feels the need. People ask questions; it's uncomfortable. He hasn't decided if he's going to make Kit uncomfortable on purpose yet.

"Devin," he says simply. "Those things are all fine; I'm just not seeing why people make such a big deal out of laying on the sand all day." There's some irony in the fact that he's the only vampire in his world who could. He nods to the bibiru that the dwarf had been carrying the other night. "Your latest stray?"

"Your latest stray?"

It's funny, that's a question that wouldn't have been all that out of place in Kirkwall, either. He did have a habit of collecting things--and people--the rest of the world would rather let slip through the cracks.

"Yeah," he says, and can't decide whether to take offence at Devin's tone or not. Not yet, maybe. He reaches out a hand and clicks his tongue at the small creature which, with perked ears, hops over clearly anticipating food. It looks moderately annoyed to have been tricked, but settles in with a noise of contentment when it receives pets instead. (like all right, this will do, too.) "I figure if someone else wanted it, it wouldn't've ended up under a wagon wheel. Guess that makes us buddies now." This, given his tone, clearly added to the bibiru tucking itself against his leg.

He pulls his shirt on, skillfully managing not to singe the fabric from his cigarette, then looks Devin's way again. "I'm Kit." No 'nice to meet you,' or 'nice to see you again.' He's not sure what to make of these encounters yet... though, to his credit, Devin had seemed concerned about the missing Kin'nal girl. A bit.

Kit had talked about the missing girl like he'd had experience with it. Perhaps his endearment towards children and misfits also applies to small, furry animals who have a way of wrapping higher-order mammals around their tiny, inscrutable paws.

Judging by the slightly uncertain way in which Devin eyes the winged rabbit's interaction with the dwarf, he is not immune to their ploys and has no idea what to do about that fact. This isn't the first bibiru he's bumped into, and the vampire is still less equipped to deal with this than with hiding several bodies.

"Terse, aren't we?" A smirk replaces anything less assured. "Here's hoping that means you have a working sense of suspicion - you'll last longer." A beat, as he thinks about that terrible scar. "Around here, anyway. Time seems to be up, wherever you come from."

That earns him a chillier look from the dwarf.

"If you've got a problem with me, salroka, best you just come right out and say it." Kit takes a long drag off his cigarette, tips his chin up, and blows the smoke out, giving himself a nice, lengthy pause before he adds anything else. Then he shrugs. "Or maybe you're just this charming with everyone."

Ah, yes. This is how it goes, how it should go; there's familiarity in finding nerves to strike, and some part of Devin is oddly relieved to return to this. His time in Keeliai and the past five months at home have dulled that impulse some, but he needs his shields back.

"Oh, don't worry, you're nothing special," the vampire returns airily, letting years of training make up the difference between how he actually feels and how he behaves. "If I had a particular problem with you, you'd know it. I don't typically see the point in being anything but blunt about such things."

Apparently, he's decided to make Kit uncomfortable after all. "So, how'd you die?"

Great, so he's like this with everyone. Not much different from the stuffed up deep lords of the Diamond Quarter in that respect. Kit can roll with that.

"So, how'd you die?"

"Which time? You've got two deaths to choose from." Another drag from his cigarette, another exhalation of the smoke. Ask awkward questions, get awkward answers, etc.

Now Devin looks properly intrigued, although it's still draped in snark. He folds his arms over his chest, not appearing awkward in the slightest.

"Really, you as well?" Technically, he may have had three, if being born dead counts. "You'd think that would be a more unique condition," the vampire scoffs. "Ah, well. You may as well start at the beginning, and end at the end. Or ends, as it were."

He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Ancestors, this guy was a prick. Maybe not quite as much of a prick as the Dragon had been, back in Thedas. But he was easily a close second.

"Really, you as well? You'd think that would be a more unique condition. Ah, well. You may as well start at the beginning, and end at the end. Or ends, as it were."

"I could do that," Kit replies, sounding very much like 'could' is an unlikely variable. He takes another drag off his cigarette and absently strokes the bibiru's ears with his free hand. Out comes the exhalation of smoke. "Maybe I'd rather just sit here, all on my lonesome, and finish my damn cigarette in peace."

Devin lives to please.

The vampire does not appear troubled by Kit's obvious scorn. He's prodding where it hurts, and the dwarf is reacting appropriately. Action, reaction: simple physics.

"Keep that up and you may die a third time if lung cancer gets you," he needles, grinning mirthlessly. This isn't fun, exactly, but it's comfortable and it fits him like a well-tailored suit. "Peace is an illusion, Kit, so enjoy it while you can. Now, come on, you're already clearly pondering your mortality, you may as well have out with it."

"Sodding--" Kit takes one last drag off his cigarette, flicks it aside, and then pushes himself up to his feet. He's short, being a dwarf, but still built like a brick shit house, though he looks more like he's preparing to gather up what few possessions he brought with him and split.

"You can't take a hint, can you? Sod off." He crouches to pick up the bibiru before it can spook and bolt into the tall grasses, helping it into his backpack. "Or I will, whatever--I don't owe you shit about my life." Or his death.

The smirk on Devin's face belies the way his gut twists with guilt, posture relaxed in the face of Kit's obvious displeasure. Kit won't be the last person he does this to, in all likelihood. It was still better than them ending up targets; the risk here was low, but not gone. And, some tiny part of him admits, it's selfishness driving him to push others away.

Regardless, he's gotten the result he anticipated. "I don't believe I claimed you owe me anything," the vampire says thoughtfully, stroking his chin. There's a cold edge to his gaze. "It's a free beach. Good luck finding someone else who knows what it's like to be skewered," he shrugs.

There probably are a handful - the Dreaming had a type - but the bigger challenge would be finding someone who considers the topic an ordinary one. He's an ass, but he's an ass who knows a lot about death and pain. Devin doesn't appear to be leaving, so that will be up to Kit.

"Good luck finding someone else who knows what it's like to be skewered."

"I'm sure there's a kebab sandwich somewhere in the city I can commiserate with," Kit mutters back tartly. He's focused on getting his little bibiru companion settled in nicely into his backpack, tucked safely in but not so securely it can't keep its wings comfortable. Then he pulls the backpack up onto his back and turns to face Devin one more time. The frank look he fixes on him is unfriendly, but also somewhat disappointed.

"See you around, or," a vague hand gesture, "whatever." He turns to hike away, bibiru peeking out of the back of his packpack at Devin with its ears perked and its little nose wiggling.

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[OPEN] bleeding, I'm bleeding

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