2nd of Fall, 513 AV
Without a close look, you wouldn't see anything amiss. The Ravokii had often come to this bar to drown himself in sorrows, and he never really made a sound. Most people didn't approach him, because they knew exactly how he'd respond. The few attempts made were met with rudeness, a cold gaze, and sometimes worse. It was safe enough to say that he'd probably be wallowing in self pity for the rest of his life in this trivial city. But today, he thought maybe he could make a change. There were a lot of people here who seemed way nicer than he'd deserved to be around. They wanted to listen to his problems, and help him. Maybe for shallow reasons -- a lot of the girls seemed to find him bewitching in his own way, if you discounted the drunkenness and the keeling over. Either way, there was a shoulder to lean on here. Some of the other regulars had their own problems as well. It was like a little community of the tarnished and the broken, and because of that, he felt he could belong.
He stepped down from his stool, and began to walk, albeit crookedly. The eyes that were once trained on him avoided sight -- people had systematically been given the idea that he wasn't worth the helping hand, and that was probably true. But he wanted to change that. "Hey Margrid," he innocently waved to one of the girls. She had tried hard to console him a few weeks ago, when he first started coming here, but gave up when he refused to tell her anything. Right now though, she was at a table surrounded by shady looking guys, wearing provocative clothing and possessing a seductive grin. It was intimidating... to put it lightly. "Oh, hey, uh..." She didn't know his name, because he didn't tell anyone. Most people noted its foreignness, and either grew uncomfortably interested, or they shied away. Although, his voice in itself was an indicator that he wasn't quite from here. "My name's Caesarion," he smiled, and took one of the empty seats, though he was sandwiched between two really buff... dudes.
He could get this awkward vibe coming from her, as if he interrupted something. A lot of the guys gave him cold looks, but he didn't notice them. When he was drunk, he was either too whiny to claim awareness, or too giddy to claim awareness. This was a rare occasion of excitement rather than sorrow. "Okay. Hi, Caesarion. Um, I know you probably have something important to say to me, but I'm in the middle of an important... uh. Meeting, so..." She stopped, looking for a proper way of saying it. The words 'go away' were far too strict for her loving and compassionate demeanor. Also, she didn't want to insult Caesarion, as she was still intrigued by him. Just not right now. "So go away?" He let out, speaking for her. His eyes narrowed to the point of viciousness. It didn't take much for him to get mad when these toxins were in the equation.
"I'm sorry, but you're correct," she said coldly. The environment grew colder, with her body reacting to his negative energy. Conversation was just a form of dueling, and he'd gotten violent with his looks and his emotions. Her insight couldn't see how easily he could become violent with more than just that, though. The narrowed eyes ignited with emotion, widened, and looked at her intensely. With only a short pause, he preemptively jumped onto the table and slammed his fist into the side of her face. "Vagik! Bar slut!" He wasn't thinking hard enough to know the consequences of that. In both shock and anger, all of the men covering the round table bound him and began to assault him. He felt two fists pounding at the top of his head, more at his back and some at his chest. He could feel the pain, but react to it? No. All of the arms around him took away all of his strength. He was content to drown in the mass of fists, be washed over and die without the screech of breath.
It was getting good too... oh well. Enjoy your grades!
