genessia | (no subject)

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WHO: Cassian and Sanzo in one, Cassian and Amberdrake in another
WHAT: DINNER TIME and A brief material run
WHEN: Shortly after Christmas, before the shops in Fayren close.
WHERE: Everglade and Fayren
WARNINGS: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism

4 SANZO
He'd gone too long. He knew he'd over extended himself, the gift he got from Tannusen could only last so long. Wheezing, stiff, the faint sound of flutes beginning to sound in the back of his mind, tonight had to be the night. He wasn't going to risk it all again, he couldn't. He couldn't keep relying on someone else here to patch him up every time he fell into shit.

He was a grown man. He could take care of this.

As it had been for two thousand years, the hunt was on. As it had been for two thousand years, the iron dagger found its mark, the husk soulless yes, but oh how they screamed like any real living thing would. Once, perhaps, he would have shrunk away from the sound. A long time ago, he'd be frantic to silence them, clumsily slashing at vocal cords and sobbing in fear and horror-

He knew how to work now, and the screaming was quickly silenced to pathetic, wet gurgling as the cloaked man snapped ribs with ease, feeling the rippling sensation of that thing pulsing in the back of his head, feeding his meager strength. Peeling the membrane off the heart. Sinking his teeth in and silencing the husk forever.

Blood everywhere. It stank of it, but the pain in his body and his lungs faded with every bite, even if it couldn't fully sate the beast. Just another bandaid.

But for now, it would do.
4 Amberdrake

Of course, Everglade wouldn't have the materials he needed. No one would stock in the type of silver he required, and he didn't even ask any shops there. Seemed like a good way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So, wrapped up in fleece and wool, cranky and miserable and cold, headed for Fayren.

They'd have what he needed, or at least part of it. He could always return home and finish blessing it all later. He had some energy in his step now, so the little man was going to be quite the obnoxious terror in Fayren, picky and fussy with everything he picked up, viciously haggling every single object down.

"I'll only be takin' pure silver, and not anything else. I don't want any steel or nickle in any of this- What else is in this mirror? Oi! Tis a real question, does it look like I'm foolin' with ye?"

Yeah. Not a good day for Fayren.

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"That too," Tannusen sighed, and folded his arms. He stared at Cassian through his spectacles. "Alright, fine, I'll bite. What's with you?"

There were way too few insults going on here. He came here to get yelled at and made miserable, damnit!

"I just got some blood punched out of me by a donkey in a white toga, it's not a good night for bein' a cuss to ye. If ye want me in fightin' fit form, come back maybe like a week from now."

It wasn't the whole story, but it was part of it. It was enough of it.

"Fair enough," Tannusen shrugged one shoulder, and actually turned to go.

"... I didn't say I didn't want your company." Tin foil was stuffed inside tin foil.

"Unless all ye wanted was some mouthy comments. Wouldn't mind some company."

Tannusen paused with his back to Cassian, halfway to the door. His fingertips briefly dug into his bicep where his arms were still folded. He really should just leave...

He shut his eyes for a moment, and didn't quite sigh... barely.

"Alright, you've won me over with your boundless charms," the tiger laughed, none of that tension apparent when he turned back around. He passed by the empty second chair and perched on the arm of Cassian's chair instead, like he owned the place. Cat. Maybe he was just daring the human to change his mind.

Nope. Not changing it. He didn't really look up or anything, every motion like someone who was far, far too used to this behavior, honestly.

"Aye, a regular prince." The ball was tossed into a nearby waste basket.

"Why did ye come here then, since ye ain't gonna walk out now? Just for the sake of listenin' to me yell at ye?"

Yes. "...Nah."

Any pooka could tell when someone actually wanted to be lied to, for once, instead of just putting up with their usual compulsive bullshit.

"You're just so damn charming. Besides, you invited me over, didn't you? Figured I should bring a gift, due to the new place, and steaks are far better than flowers."

He's smart enough to know it's a lie. He even laughs bitterly at the charming quip. The statement about the food and gift however was slightly more believable, and he sunk back into the chair, the dim light of the house darkening the circles under his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks.

A corpse half rotted into a chair.

"Masochist." Called it and he knew he called it.

"Hope ye don't expect food in return. Safe to say traditional Irish meals pale in comparison to a well seasoned steak."

"That wouldn't be much of a housewarming gift, would it? If it was an exchange," Tannusen decided to make himself more comfortable, turning sideways on the arm of the chair and draping his legs over onto the other arm.

He ignored the comment about being a masochist. That was true, but unrelated. This wasn't precisely that. He didn't get off on being yelled at, quite the opposite. It just... scratched some other kind of awful itch. Some dark part of him really liked being loathed by others... maybe it helped him keep any lingering drops of humanity at bay, let him be what he really was? He didn't know, and he was quiet as he contemplated the subject, all to himself.

"Nae, but I may feel obligated." He had some shreds of decency left in him, somewhere. They lingered ever still. He could be a good host, he supposed. If he really tried.

"..." Well now what smart guy. He never had to carry on a conversation before. Just... say whatever came to mind mayb-

"If it isn't too much trouble I'd-"

ABORT. ABORT MISSION.

"... never mind."

"Oh, come on, pooka are supposed to be ever-so easy for people to talk to, there has to be an upshot to this nonsense. What is it?" Then, making fun of himself even more, "I'm apparently a charitable guy, today."

"... Would ye stay here. Tonight." There he said it. Are you happy?

"In the house, tis all. Ye don't need to follow me to my room, don't have to cook breakfast, rest where every ye like.

... Just stay the night, tis all."

Tannusen blinked.

"Seriously?" Not... what he expected.

A long, shameful pause.

"... Aye. I need nuthin' else."

Tannusen considered, trying to convince himself to just teleport the hell out of there. Maybe send someone over here with a proper conscious. Maybe Trahearne, that guy was always lonely too.

But eventually he huffed out a sigh. Trahearne would be too nervous to go to a strange guy's house even if Tannu asked him to!

"Fine, I'll just text the tree I live with so he doesn't think I moved out, again."

Yes, tree. Tannusen reached into his suit jacket for his phone and took a glove off with a pinch of his pearly white teeth so he could use the touchscreen properly. The skin of his hand was pale like his face, but dotted with old, smooth scarring. His wrist was worse, barely peeking out of his dress shirt.

He earned Cassian staring for a moment, but not long, nor harshly. Enough to suss out what he was looking at before he moved on again, still looking like he'd just become part of the chair itself.

"'Course." You know, normal stuff, tell the tree you'll be out.

"Find where ever ye want to sleep, there's a guest room at the top of the stairs to the right. Eat whatever ye like, won't be anythin' like the steak though. And don't mind the frogs. Try not to eat those."

"I'm not french... this time around," Tannusen said, muffled by having the tip of a thin leather glove stuck between his teeth. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Send.

His gaze slid over to Cassian for a moment. He'd felt that stare, however brief. Tannu let the glove drop into his own lap as he tucked the phone back away. "What's wrong, never seen a tiger with scars before?"

"Yer fussy enough." Okay he can't be perfect all the time.

"Didn't think ye had any." That was the long and short of it really. "Ye didn't seem to be the type to. Most fairies I ever met only scarred if they were struck by iron." He thumbs his upper lip at the right side of his mouth.

"The siren I knew used to get into scraps all the time, but the only one that ever stuck was the knife wound on his mouth. Tis odd, is all."

"Most faeries don't bite Jabberwocky throats out, either," Tannusen pointed out, like it was just that simple. But no. It really... it was his bullshit doing what it did. What he said was true, but unrelated, and thus as good as a lie. "What's iron usually do the fae you know?"

"Got a point there, I suppose." Unless one was a troll of course, but that was neither here nor there.

"It's like strikin' someone with a brand. The flesh hisses and bubbles, burns appear. The harder the blow, the deeper the wound, the stronger the poison. Hit one hard enough and ye can kill 'em outright. If they live, their powers and abilities are severely hindered until they heal, and apparently, they carry the scar from it forever."

"Mn," Tannusen gestured vaguely with his bare hand, "it burns, and smokes something fierce, but nothing's hindered or limited by it. I've had all sorts of shit done to me with cold iron. It only gets more dangerous than any other metal in its place if it saps out all my Glamour. Which it will, given enough time. Or enough of it. Cold Iron is Banality's physical form, it denies the existence of dreams, and what I am is a dream."

And he laughed at that.

"Or a nightmare, I suppose. I am personally made up of the dreams of earliest man who feared the tigers in the jungle outside their caves. That I'm white this time is just a statistical blip; out of the thousands of times I've been reincarnated, it was sure to happen at some point. Maybe it has before, who knows. The few lifetimes I do remember, I was orange."

"A dream... sounds pretty when ye put it like that, doesn't it?" He sounded... thoughtful. "Kani would never shut up if ye told him banality would kill ye. I've told him a thousand times tisn't any way boredom and blandness is gonna do him in." Never again would he ever convince the siren to sit around for any single lecture or show ever again.

Another long pause.

"... Far too pretty to be a nightmare."

"Ohh?" Tannusen smirked at that, and attempted to tip Cassian's chin up with one -- gloved! -- fingertip. Honestly, just to see if he'd get away with it. "I think some nightmares can be quite pretty."

Well up it went. It was hard to tell if the lack of fight was out of defeat, exhaustion or interest, because the next thing out of him was-

"Ye callin' me a nightmare, mate?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," did that count as a pun? Tannusen didn't know and didn't care, he thought it was funny anyway. And his finger stayed where it was, because he was an asshole.