Tannusen (
black_black_heart) wrote in
genessia2016-12-14 04:41 am
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Entry tags:
[ action | closed ] too many war wounds and not enough wars
too many sharks, not enough blood in the waves
you know I give my love a f-f-four letter na-na-name
Who: Trahearne and Tannusen
Where: Genessia City - Velvet Lust
When: Daytime, ie while VL is closed to the public.
What: Tannusen is "displeased with shit", Trahearne is suddenly missing a couch-surfer. He goes looking.
Warnings: Will update if/as needed... and it will probably be needed.
Tannusen had been slowly sinking over the last few weeks, dropping further and further into a mood. Finally, one day, he just didn't show back up at Trahearne's apartment. He didn't the next day, either, or the day after that, and even the packs of paper-wrapped meat with his name on them had vanished from the Sylvari's freezer. His one mark on the place besides a lot more cat hair than Trahearne's two housecats could produce... and a couch that had long since given up on standing on its legs.
No, instead he was at his bar and club, the packs of meat with his name on them in the kitchen fridge. Since he was pulling duty as the cook for the place at night, there was no real worry that it would be accidentally served to the patrons. None who had applied for the cook position thus far had met his standards for a good, rare steak.
When you want the job done right, do it yourself.
But it was day, now, and thus no patrons were allowed inside. It was a policy held over from the original Velvet Lust back on his world; he'd catered to an active vampire population in Toronto, Canada. Some rules just weren't worth changing. It was basically a tradition, now. When the sun went down, Velvet Lust opened for business. At the first hint of pre-dawn, the last call went out.
Presently, it was day. All the chairs were upside-down on the tables, the dark wooden floor, and furniture, and the bar all gleamed in the dim lighting. Whatever anyone assumed from the seedy name, the place had a lot of care put into it. Even in such a short time, Tannusen had poured resources both mundane and magical into the place, and no small amount of extra labor every morning to keep it spotless and respectable.
At least, down stairs. Upstairs was clean, too, but respectable was another matter entirely. All the better for producing Glamour in even such a boring place.
He'd been tempted to claw the place up when he'd "moved in" a few days ago. Pure, territorial instinct... and one he tamped down on, hard. There were a few claw marks here and there, of course, but in subtle places; not all over the damn place ruining all his shit. Some of his regulars had even made a game of trying to find them all, not fully understanding that they were territory markers from a genuine monstrosity of a tiger.
Tannusen observed and contemplated all of this from the floor. He was laying on his side in his natural form, his thick tail occasionally thrashing a staccato beat against the smooth boards. A mood, indeed. For the first time since his arrival, he found himself missing Toronto. Yes, every Fae from his Earth assumed that all pooka were stupid, silly creatures like that goddamned squirrel he'd briefly tried to mentor. But... most of them learned better when faced with one of the rare predators like Tannusen. "Exotic" pooka, they were considered. Rare, unpredictable, dangerous. All the silly little prey pooka had come back to Earth before the predators because they'd eaten them.
He'd made the Duchess very... nervous. And so everyone should be.
Oh yes, he was in a mood.
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He tapped his fingers on the bar again in agitation. Tha-thump-thump-thump.
"Why do you want me around?" There, maybe that would be an easier approach.
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Tannusen poured another shot into one of the glasses, but then lifted it himself and downed it.
"Come upstairs," he grabbed a bottle just to have something to toy with, and headed for the stairs up to the Club itself. Deserted, of course, because it was daytime. There were no windows up here, curtained or otherwise, but he flicked the usual lights on so it wouldn't be pitch black, and went to sprawl on his back in the middle of the meticulously-cleaned dance floor. And... yep, there was a disco ball up there.
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Maybe lonely wasn't the word for that problem, it was close enough.
He followed Tannusen up the stairs, hesitating only once. He knew enough about the place to know upstairs was not the place he'd want to venture, at least when the club was open. The lack of windows was telling.
He stepped onto the edge of the dance floor and looked over at Tannusen.
"Why up here?"
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"I just ask to be kept informed, Tannusen. Anyone can vanish from this world at any time, it's an unsettling thought."
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He settled back down and huffed out a sigh, closing his eyes. The tiger was an absolute lightweight when it came to alcohol. "I'll come back, then, if that's what you want."
It didn't address any of what was going on, but who was counting anyway?
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"As long as it's not imposing on you too greatly, I'd appreciate it."
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He wasn't going to try either, not while his thinking wasn't quite as clear as it had been when he walked in.
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"There are challenges for what we are, all of us." So much Trahearne did not want to think about, nor share on this world. "I thought you did have fun, being what you are. Most of the time."
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"If you mean the native residents of this world, I'm not sure if they can learn much for long." He still hadn't managed to wrap his mind around the fake people thing. "If you mean the others... I'm not sure. I take it 'squirrel' is quite the insult."
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He slit his eyes open.
"I do mean the others, yes. I don't care what the 'fake' ones say or do or think -- if they even do think. Starting to think the 'real' ones are just as bad, though." Which was pretty bad when he already didn't think of most of them as people.
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"In my experience, it takes most a while to adjust to something they're so unfamiliar with." He could see why Tannusen was less than happy with squirrels after that experience, still. What the secondborn had to endure for the curiosity of a few...
"I'm not sure how any got the impression that you are a 'clown', however. A trickster, maybe."
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"Mmm... An unfortunate situation." Their conversation had already veered off course, he wasn't sure if it was worth trying to steer it back.
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"Unfortunately there is great risk with any attachments. By the sound of it, it turned out well enough, or, at least, not as bad as it could have been."
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Living on someone's couch doesn't count.
"I don't even have Jethro here. And Isaac..." he trailed off, and it wouldn't take an Empathic connection to pick up that huge vein of sadness he'd just brushed himself against.
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"Is there a way I can help?" he asked, voice softer now.
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"There is no recreating a person, no. Not unless what powers rule this world wish to bring that person here. And just as easily can take them away. This is a peaceful place, yet frightening in its aimless power." He shook his head. "All we can do is to keep living the best we can."
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"This is stupid," he said into the floor. "I'm already older than most Fae last for. Now I get to waste away the last little bit in purgatory."
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"It is unpleasant, I'm sorry. This is not the worst place to be stuck." Though maybe it was, for a fae. Very little really happened here.
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