Petching vagik. The Drykas boy, not a man, probably never even had sex before, thought it okay to make a snarky remark. It was a PETCHING EAGLE. An eagle. Who the petch brings an eagle to a bar in Ravok? Birds weren't pets, anyway. Birds were annoying chirpy animals who just wanted to be given some of your dinner. Scavengers, the lot of them. "Mate," scoffed Sulavik. "I'm an Akalak. I can kill anything." The Drykas boy turned to ignore him, which irritated him slightly. But he could live with that. Sulavik ignored Makil's growing irritation at the way he was acting as he dealt with the barmaid, gaining beer and a smoke. He couldn't tell Makil why he was acting this way. He couldn't even tell the barmaid why he was acting this way. Hell, he could hardly tell himself why he was acting this way. The thing, whatever it was, with Solat was petching over, done, ended. It shouldn't still be affecting him. He was an Akalak. He was upright, honourable, disciplined. He should not be sitting in a seedy tavern in Ravok chucking down glass after glass of ale. But he was. And it petching sucked. Even after Sulavik had lit up the smoke, for a lack of something to do, and leaned over to the boy, the Drykas still ignored him. On one level Sulavik was slightly proud. The boy was very steadfastly ignoring a seven foot three blue man chilling in Ravok, acting drunk and aggressive. He wasn't all that drunk, but it was certainly fun to act so - and being aggressive could be even more fun. But it was petching irritating. Sulavik was being rude to the boy for a reason. He was bored. He needed to get his mind off of the sparkling blue-green eyes of Solat. The boy looked far too calm and relaxed sitting there with his pipe. Standing up, Sulavik went over - pipe still in mouth- and sat in the Drykas' lap. The pain would have been great - the weight of a muscular tall Akalak on a young man's thighs was not to be underestimated. Playing up the 'gay' factor, something Sulavik did when he was utterly bemoaning his fate, he leaned in and wrapped an arm around the boy's neck, placing a big sloppy kiss on his cheek. Sulavik, I petching swear, if you don't give up this act RIGHT NOW, I will take control. I'm just as frustrated as you are. You never know what might petching happen if I'm in control. It'll just be less of an embarrassment for the pair of us. Petch you, you petching shyke. Just because you're the 'dark soul', the 'unbalanced one', or whatever shyke Uncle called it, doesn't mean you're the only one allowed to be a little fucked up in the head. Grinning slightly manically at the boy, he puffed in the pipe overly dramatically - managing not to cough this time - and drew in breath as though about to make a giant speech. "Oh, honeybun!" he cried loudly, drawing several stares and suspicious glances. "Oh sweetheart! Oh love of mine! How can you ignore me so? Did last night mean nothing to you?!" |