Hammocks and Mead
arr, some o that dust be from me bones. sorry fer makin such a mess. so now that yer home n all.. mind showin me the rum storage?
*piratey talk quickly fades since the 19th of September passed so many moons ago*
Yknow, ye look might familar.. have we had t'pleasure o meetin? Bones be the name, and drinkin, well that'd be a good game fer me.
Always a pleasure to meet a pirate!
Originally Posted by Bones
I believe I've at least heard of you. The taverns do ring with the stories.
Rum's right through here, or it was last time I was...THERE it is.
Tap a bottle, make some new dust. I'll bring two bottles. Is that enough?
"arrr... aherm, that is, I'm certain the likes of us two have crossed paths here afore.. "
*Bones grabs a bottle and manages to force air through his open jaw to lighten the load of dust upon the dark glass, and as the cloud fades before him, his memory begins to filter back in through his thick skull and into the ether at the core of his existence*
"Ahh, indeed.. some 2 years back! Me and my mates had the pleasure of celebratin TLAP day here, and tharr ye were, talkin somethin about raisin the rank of this place to, what was it, arrr-rated? Haha.. Memory's a bit foggy y'see, bein as all I've been through.."
*He takes off the pirate cap and miscellany of gear and dons his worn black robe again*
"I suppose waitin here a few weeks in that wasn't worth the effort. Not many venture here these days, and dressin up as a pirate just wasn't quite as fun."
*Bones sits at the bar, and lets a bit of the dark golden liquid pass through his mouth. Something spills on the floor*
"Ahh, that hit the spot. Thankee, mlady"
"So, as I was sayin.. its a shame this place was left nearly for dead, as much had the opportunity to unfold. And perhaps, it did. But in ink it never was written"
*He taps his skull with a bony finger*
"There lie the words that never put quill to scroll or book."
*He gestures towards her head as well*
"I'm certain there's much in that head too. Enough that lay as untapped as these bottles of rum, I'm sure."
*he stands and raises the bottle*
"May the dust of inaction hasten away, and the bustle of life begin anew this very day"
Poetry calls for a drink. Many things call for a drink, but poetry demands it. To the ease of the ears and the lips and rattling of Bones.
It's a pleasure to be back and a pleasure to find such excellent company to be kept.
As part of the benefits of my trip, I'll also make some doughnuts. Sugar, alcohol and...
We need chocolate. That's a food group, isn't it?
Time for a feast.
"Had I only the tongue of Liz'rd, this feast indeed would have made the wait worthwhile."
He pauses and grins, inwardly
"Well, I've grown plenty of imaginnation, so I'm certain it can work to my benefit this night. Thought shall replace those buds I would need to taste with... but hmm, what will it be I'll be tasting.."
Bones creeps up behind Cyren and lays, one by one, each digit of his skeletal fingers on her right shoulder. He talks in a loud deep reverberating voice as his eyesockets glow red
"Is it wise to keep this kind of company? Are you so certain the undead would be a welcome guest?"
Her response, or lack thereof seems a bit surprising to him. He steps back and tilts his head slightly, the fire in his eyes extinguishing, and his voice subduing
"A minion borne of evil brings no fear to your heart? Not even a goosebump, or a chill up your spine?"
Bones sighs, realizing he's lost something he once delighted in. Opponents' fear and the thrill of battle were once a single-minded pursuit of his..
Perhaps 'minded' is the wrong word though, as it was not a mind, but a will - one beyond his own. Another more stronger being than he had set Bone's actions in motion, reducing him to a tool in the hands of some puppet master. But all that had changed. Much.. had changed..
He turns and walks to find something to occupy his thoughts. An interesting object catches his attention on a table nearby, and he picks it up, turning it in his fingers. A long thin cylindrical cone carved in wood, a type of beast's horn..
"Hmm, peculiar. I've recently pondered the existence of a four legged creature with such an object protruding from its head." He turns to Cyren, holding the piece. "Why do you suppose that is? - I doubt such a creature would have a place in some swamp, or near a volcano.."
"Ahh, and speaking of creatures.. have u had the opportunity in your travels to spy any beasts roaming the hills? Peddling wares or laboring in the fields? Performing, perhaps?" He is hopeful in his query. "I've not seen my fellow minions in a while, and was curious as to their pursuits since times when there was once more of a market for them to make a living... though undead they may be."
He chuckles at the simple joke, no matter how small or unnoticed. It reminds him of his own previous vocations. Lost in thought, his gaze turns to the window.
"This would be a suitable time, I'd presume, for them to make an appearance - in one form or another. This time of year usually brings them scores of attention. Little ones, big ones, all types come to various locales to find pleasure in the scares found in facing so-called 'haunted' residences.
Myself, I would roam from house, to farm, to forest, making random appearances and keeping things.. erm, 'tidy'."
He looks over to Cyren, still apparently delighting in her food making. She seems a bit intrigued by his use of the word 'tidy' though
"No, not that I'd be sopping up the blood of dead corpses from wooden floors so much... erm, well, not so often that is.
Y'see, I try to manage them the best a former miscreant can. Some become devoted to the cause of peace and coexistence. Others.. stray.. But penalties are stiff for them, and certainly no defense is given if a 'hero' decides to enact revenge upon them."
He sighs "Not all understand that banishment and ostracizing, but it is a necessary 'evil', so to speak. haha.."
Bones grabs a chair, watching Cyren at work
"Ahh, but tell me. How is it you do not fret over the continued existence of our kind?"
He awaits her response, all the while twisting the wooden horn in his hands..
Cyren drags her chair closer to Bones and considers his words. "Well, now it's true that I've killed many of your kind. I can't say my motives were anything but selfish. Usually because they'd gone and blocked a path or guarded a hoard of something that to me was valuable at the time and has since passed out of my memory."
She takes a sip of her drink and continues thoughtfully "Truth be told they usually attacked me first, and with the lack of originality in their invective - you know - the rounding cry of "Die, air breather!" or some such, I grew weary of landing the first blow, or bothering to hate. The baubles grew less interesting, and the invective faded."
"Time passed, I'll surely kill you if you take the first swing, unless for some reason I decide to stay my hand. Usually because I don't think you're much of a real threat and your time isn't up right now. How I arrive at that judgment is something I've come to rely upon in a way that I can explain. A bit of the sight or a bit of the blindness, I suppose. As long as it works for me, and it has so far, I've no complaint. I'm not dead yet. Well, not in a way that makes me stay that way."
"You seem the polite sort, and I am not guarding any baubles of my own. So I don't imagine I'm of all that much use to you except for company. I am an air breather though, but I don't think it's necessary to propel hatred of each other just based on differences in ventilation systems. Seems silly."
She smiles and her eyes reflect a hint of the warfare she's seen and make a mockery of the sweetness of the curve of her lips. "So in short, I'll kill you without a blink if you turn on me, but for now, I couldn't possibly eat all these donuts alone."
"I'm afraid I haven't seen much of anything since returning here, I've just been reminiscing in my own little way. That's looking for enough trouble inherently, don't you think? Looks like a Unicorn horn from here, but it could belong to any number of things. I've learned not to rely on my lore too much. Leads to thinking I know things I don't."
Bones listens, somewhat curious, somewhat amused. He chuckles at Cyren's interpretation of various outcries of battling minions. Cyren herself seems quite self-assured, perhaps a bit overconfident, or at least capable of feigning prowess in the art of killing. Casually tossing out warnings of death if something should attack is easy enough for the layperson, but in the presence of a powerful opponent (at least, had Bones chosen to be one) it could possibly be more than just hollow words.
He had surely not intended to challenge her though; only to test.. a little. Or perhaps not to test, so much as to get a rise out of, or at least a scare from her. He still desired to hear an occasional scream or look of terror. And during this time of year, most especially. But..no such luck.
Adding to this frustration is the term 'polite' Cyren uses in reference to him. The word, harmless as it is, irritates him, and he grits his teeth at its sound. Certainly, in human writing it is a well-intentioned word, but it again seemed to diminish the menacing presence he once commanded. As fierce and frightful as he once may have been, his choices since the fall of the dark ones had altered the reception people had to him. So, he must pay regard to these decisions and accept the pleasantries and compliments of Questers as more thread to use in strengthening the bond between two worlds
"Your words are appreciated..."
Bones doesn't so easily dismiss her co¢ksure comments though
"However, do not underestimate me. The kill would not be so swift if ever we were to spar."
He tempers the remark with a calm deference to her own boasted skills
"I imagine though, I would have a handful myself. Nonetheless, I am no enemy. The company however is fitting for a fellow combatant, though opposite sides we once fought on."
Bones looks down at the wooden horn
"A unicorn hmm? Well, that would most certainly be out of place here"
He shrugs and proceeds to use the crafted horn to stab at and pick up food from the feast before him, and to suck.. or rather, grab with his teeth, the sundry mix of colors and textures prepared in the most hearty and succulent of ways. (Being as he has no tongue this is what he imagines)
"Delightful! Extraordinary. I'm in debt to you for this feast, and your company. Perhaps, if the mood strikes, I'll tell you a tale, or a joke. Though I must warn you, most of my jokes have become as stiff as I once was.."
Bones looks at the horn for a moment, and twists it so the point is turned up. As he does so he quickly realizes the dual meaning in his words
"Erm, that is.." He removes the horn quickly from the table "..stiff as a corpse, I mean to say"
"Well, you brought it up. If you want me to be scared, just say so. I'll do my best to make you feel better. If you want to challenge me to a duel, that's fine too. I'll probably say no, though. You learn people through their actions anyway. Dead or alive. If we're the only ones here, I'd prefer someone to play cards with, compared to someone who wants to kill me. Although really, probably love me, want to kill me, and play cards, that's fun too. I have my husband for that, though. He doesn't really want to kill me, but he pretends so I feel important. He's out and about in all the different lands, murdering and mayhem are his joys. I confess I don't worry much about death, as I'd feel sorry for anybody who tried to kill me. Pain isn't fun, but it's a fact. I deal well with facts."
Cyren's lips twitch and she pulls out a deck of cards. "Very useful. Solitaire, poker, telling fortunes. I don't really need the cards for that, but they're fun if I need to make some money quickly. I'd love to hear your stories, stiff or not."