[Alements] Headlock

[Achenar]

Early Spring 515av

The waterfall was a constant roar. It had yet become background noise, but that was likely because he’d been unable to become accustomed to the environment. He doubted he ever would be, with the way these blue men went about their business. But perhaps that was for the better. Here, he was virtually invisible; no fear of unwarranted attention, unless he spoke to the wrong girl, or stepped across the wrong threshold. But the ethaefal was careful of such things when it came to the Akalak, whose hands could easily snap his neck and leave him a rotting ragdoll in the Sea of Grass.

But this was no Akalak's place.

It was the cusp of dusk and Maddoch stared at the cherry wood double doors with the blue eyes of his svefra seeming. He touched the surface with a hand. Polished, refined. The sun bastard did have taste, after all. With an easy push, the doors opened, and he stepped through, the lanterns flickering in his wake.

The place smelled of herbs; an overpowering conglomeration of wood and plant and liquor. His eyes roamed, scrutinizing the rugs scattered across the floor and the marble topped bar in the back. He noted most of the tables were vacant, and what few patrons were seated in their plush armchairs paid him no mind. In daylight, he was just like anyone else.

Maddoch walked up to the bar, where a young woman was preoccupying herself with the glassware. Her dark hair reminded him of Maire, but such thoughts he dismantled before they had time to properly manifest. He eyed her bosom, pushed together by the dress she wore, accented by a simple apron. She looked the part of a barmaid and part-time whore. A heavily plausible conclusion, all things considering.

“Are you as good with your hands on a man as you are with those glasses you’re handling?” Maddoch asked plainly.

The woman lifted her head with a deadpan stare. “Excuse me?”

The ethaefal rolled his eyes. How much more of a hint could he give? “How much do you charge?”

“I don’t charge anything, sir.” The barmaid’s tone was thoroughly laced with annoyance, though the smile on her lips was a feigned pleasance.

Maddoch laughed. “You’ve never used those pretty little hands to tug on a man’s fat—“

“NO.” She slammed the glass down abruptly. After a pause, she coughed and resumed her drying. “No, sir. I’m just not that kind of girl.”

The ethaefal raised a brow. That reaction, which might have repelled anyone else, only incited a rise in him. His lips curled in a smirk, and he reached out with a hand, far too fast for the girl to react to, and pulled her close enough for her blouse to be ripped down and an exposed bosom to be trapped in a harsh palm.

“There’s always time to start, sweetheart,” he hissed through her struggles, her hands gripping his hard forearms.

“Get the petch OFF of me!” She howled, slamming her fists into his wrists to no avail. He'd bruise, but he needed to do this. He needed the power, the authority, no matter how trivial the situation. With what strength he could force into his arms, he began to haul her away from the bar.

oocSeriously felt so sleazy writing this. I'm sorry Elise. *hugs*

[Caelum]

Caelum

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A pear shaped alembic was positioned over a lit brazier, gently glowing with steady application of heat. Caelum kept one eye on it as he slid a pestle onto the granite counter top and carefully scraped the contents of the mortar into a beaker. He was distilling the salt water of Plunge Pool Bay into a purer form, or attempting to as one step in this process. He expected that the entire process might take several goes before decent potion of salt was successfully extracted from the sea water. To this end, he was largely performing it in order to ascertain how it was done, the likelihood of success, and the estimated yield.


Earlier that day he had collected several buckets of sea water and hauled them into Alements. Only one of the buckets had ended up inside Caelum’s infirmary. The others found themselves in the sprawling kitchen in the back of Alements mains. The first bucket of what he had poured into a large cooking pot and he placed the entire thing on the heavy black iron stove and lit the flames to high. A tall glass vase was stolen from the tavern mains and he placed it in the center of the pot. It was just exactly tall enough that the top stuck out of the salt water and none of it would spill into the glass. Fetching the pot’s lid, he placed it upside down on top so that the handle was angled directly above the mouth of the empty glass. Then he waited, literally watching water boil. As he suspected would happen, as the salt water boiled its steam rose and was caught against the pot lid. Condensation began to form and due to the angle of the lid and the place of the handle water droplets ran down to the center and dripped slowly but steadily into the mouth of the empty glass. The entire process took nearly half a bell, but in the end the ethaefal was able to extract the glass of distilled water using a pair of tongs and thick oven mitts and set it on the kitchen counter to cool. It was not a perfect distillation, not by a long shot, but while Caelum studied the salty residue drying in the pot he felt that he had managed to gain some bit of philtering knowledge to add to his painfully slow growing collection.


Elise’s cry carried to him in the infirmary and a glass beaker slipped through Caelum’s fingers. A handful of golden bee pollen spilled over the floor and he stared blankly at it for the space between heartbeats. By the next tick he sprung around for the short hall that led from his infirmary and into Alements mains where he had left Elise earlier to see to business.


Long, earth devouring strides carried the physician quickly into the corridor at the end of which he could see the bright daylight of the tavern and the black unfolding of events as a strange man forcibly hauled Elise out from behind the bar. All the little lights inside of Caelum went hotter than the heart of a star and the heat of his fury obliterated all qualms. Even the rattle of Nikali’s thick chains inside of him only spurred him forward rather than warned him back. Djed began to concentrate in his mouth, slowly gathering as he focused his rage, and it tasted everything like embers crushing between his teeth as he transfigured it into res.


A full stride back, Caelum bent fluidly down to flip a wicked looking dagger out of a strap of his riding boot. As he rose he reached up with his left hand and grabbed a fist full of the man’s hair. Caelum jerked his head back even as he shifted his weight onto his back foot, the toe of his other foot knocking onto the interior edge of the svefra’s boot in preparation to knock him even further off balance.


Elise made a muffled shrieking noise and the scattered patrons of Alements were collected up by a resounding silence.


The man sought power, wanted control, sought a return of agency through the domination and subjugation of the weak. This knowledge hazed Caelum’s mind and his eyelids grew heavy.


”Caelum,” Elise whispered, sharp and frightened in the man’s grip.


The healer’s dagger pressed against the man’s throat, scalple sharp. “Let go of her,” he commanded, words cool and heavy as stones thrown in a grave. “Now.”

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h

[Achenar]

Maddoch had slammed a hand over the woman’s mouth, the muscles of his other arm flexing as he kept her still against his torso.

“Shut your mouth,” he hissed in her ear, his tone dangerous.

He’d heard the stride of boots across the floorboards, but his hair was promptly gripped before he’d had a chance to identify his now-assailant. The harsh sting from the force of the jerk sparked a feeling in him that he profoundly sought to suppress.

Maddoch’s jaw tensed. He bared his teeth in a snarl in response to the biting kiss of steel on his throat. He had to recover from the abrupt stumble he’d suffered from the boot that sought to trip him. A boot worn by a man whose name he'd come across in the past.

Caelum.

He idly wondered if he should have been frightened. Instead, the ethaefal was laughing. His chest shook as the heavy scented air carried the noise around the room. Small beads of blood formed where the blade scraped along his moving throat. But the minute it died, the djed his body willed into production sank into the wrist of his left arm and ripped the astral body from its vessel. The pain it caused was met with a sharp inhale and a shudder throughout his body. ‘Pain is pleasure’, the mind echoed, settling in like an intruding whisper.

“The girl should cover herself up more, she wouldn’t be mistaken for a harlot, Caelum,” the ethaefal sneered with a wicked smile.

The vacant limb became slack around the barmaid, and he willed what novice control he had on the astral body to twist around the assailant and slam into the back of his knee, seeking to make him buckle.

oocEdited this a bit, I totes forgot some things.

[Caelum]

Caelum

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Recognition flashed through Caelum accompanied by surprise. It was rare enough that his path crossed with that of another ethaefal's, even here in Riverfall where from time to time they seemed to be in odd abundance. The society of his fellows was not something Caelum had ever craved, consistently finding it to be both empty and dangerous. There was no comparing these earth bound relations with those forged in the Goldenlands of the Ukalas. For that reason Caelum recalled meeting Maddoch vividly.


He also remembered saving the man's life.


"You little shit," Caelum swore, suddenly more irritated than angry. "You come looking for me only to assault my ---"


He cut off at the abrupt and unexpected blow to the back of his knee. It was not terribly powerful, but it was enough to force his knee to buckle and cause him to stagger in order to maintain his balance. As he did this, he flipped the dagger in his hand in order stick it into his belt. It was Achenar. A friend -- or he had been once. For that reason and that alone was he to be given an chance to explain himself, to apologize, and to make up somehow for daring to assault Elise. So the knife went up and Alements proprietor caught his balance while relinquishing the death grip he had on Achenar's hair. He shook his hand as if burned, listening to the out of tune rattling of Nikali's chains as they told him tales of pain transmuting to pleasure. He knew that need, that dark desire one he had become all too acquainted with in the curing of his best friend well over a year ago.


It still spoke to him in the long, still nights from time to time. It had become but one of many personal stories kept secreted inside of himself.


Without wasting any more words, Caelum took a moment to center himself before striking out. He went right at the svefra, bypassing any attempts at guard by twisting the line of his shoulder sideways at the same time he swept his left arm up and out to knock aside a potential defensive blow. With his right hand he grabbed Achenar by throat and violently shoved him back and around to slam his back against the stone wall by the hall door. A certain curve of his spine and careful positioning of his feet maintained a prepared defense as he pulled back his left arm, formed a tight fist, and drove it viciously into Achenar's stomach. He kept the man pinned to the wall by the throat throughout, pushing back against any of the body's natural instincts to try and double over.


Rage would have been on the face of any other man. Rage and blood pumping thrill. Energy sparked off of him, but it was unaccompanied by fury. There was something altogether too patient waiting instead in the depths of Caelum's daylit regard.

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h

[Achenar]

“Assault?” Maddoch’s tone was incredulous. “I didn’t hurt the wench, did I?”

Elise had slipped from his slacked grip, and he felt a momentary reprieve as Caelum readjusted himself from the blow, but it was short lived. As the grip on his hair was relinquished and the svefra turned around to meet Caelum’s gaze, he found the ethaefal lunging right at him. He brought his one arm up to block the hit out of instinct but was swiftly prevented from doing so. The svefra soon found himself slammed into the wall with a hand at his throat, nearly constricting his airways. In a last ditch attempt at a defensive maneuver, he brought his hand up to grip Caelum’s wrist, trying to pry the hold on his throat to no avail.

“Don’t you petching dare,” he hissed at his assailant, his teeth bared and jaw clenched. But the blow came, connecting to his gut and forcing a grunt from his mouth. Attempts to buckle over were foiled by the hand that kept him pinned against the wall. The pain shot up his stomach in a slow, stinging throb, and he exhaled, pushing back the memories that threatened to invade his thoughts; of pain, darkness and forced submission.

The blows came again and again, and each made Maddoch echo grunts and groans of pain. He couldn’t just sit here and take it. He couldn’t just waltz in and bend over like he’d always been expected to. Not even to his friend. The astral limb that had been hanging dormant in the moment was surged into action, and the limb, weak though it was, hung onto Caelum’s own throat in the moment, and held him with what strength of djed he had left. The svefra brought his knee up then and aimed right for Caelum’s groin, seeking to knock his arm off his neck if it connected.

“I get it,” He snapped hoarsely. “You’re petching mad.” He saw the rage in Caelum’s eyes; a rage that mirrored his own from years long past. He wanted to believe that he was here for a reason other than to seek something familiar in his life. But now, he wasn’t so sure. Even whilst his fellow ethaefal pummeled him, Maddoch felt something that was far from rage or anger.