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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ha, ha, bloody," Tannusen says down into the floor. If it wasn't a pun before, it is now. Geezer.

"Yes, yes you're the pinnacle of humor. Go to bed for pities sake, and don't wake me up. Tis been a very strange and very hard day for me and I don't want to deal with your stupid shenanigans all night."

Tannusen just reaches up to pull the edge of the comforter over his head. There. See. He's in bed. A bunch of bloodied platinum blond hair is all that sticks out from under the blanket, forming whorls and spirals despite being a sticky mess.

"... And take a shower at some point too, or someone will have to shave ye to be done with the matting."

And with that pleasant remark, he heads up and goes for his bed.

Goodnight, lump.

Tannusen's only parting answer is a disgusted noise. If Cassian comes near him with a knife it'd better be for a fight.

...Aaaaand he's still there in the morning. He hasn't moved, except to pull his hair under the blanket with him and away from any sneaky white-haired jerks with scissors.

Oh good heavens. When he comes downstairs in the morning, there's a brief moment of surprise. He's... almost touched.

... Then he noticed that Tannusen had pulled his hair under the blankets.

Enjoy waking up to Cassian starting to laugh himself sick.

"Ye actually thought I'd shave it off?"

"Been bald before," Tannu mutters into the floor, "I look like Mr. Clean."

What pooka doesn't make themselves the butt of a joke now and then, anyway?

"Well we can't have that horrific clash with yer personality, now can we? Go wash your hair, get the clumps out. Ye don't wanna go back to your tree smellin' like a charnel house."

As for Cassian, he was going to make some coffee.

"Do you even have hot water or do I have to heat it up in a pot," Tannusen asked, still into the floor. "Some of us don't like turning blue."

Except in the balls, apparently. UGH.

"I've got hot water, ye whingin' baby, plumbin' works great. Ye gonna wash or are ye just gonna start invintin' vermin over to clean yer hair out?"

"You're the big priss acting like blood is so gross," Tannusen scoffed, and crawled out from under the comforter. Yes, that's right, crawled out from under it instead of pulling it off himself like a normal person. Hey, he's a goddamned tiger, bite him.

He gets to his feet with the help of the nearest wall, and tracks down the bathroom. Very unsteadily.

...He'll be in there a while, hot showers are one of the luxuries he enjoys when he has the chance, after all those years bummin' it on the back of a motorcycle in Canada. Probably won't emerge until the hot water starts to go room-temp.

"It attracts bugs. You're gonna have roaches livin' in it if ye don't scrub it all out." And that was final. Not to mention, old rotting blood had a very... unpleasant scent.

Tannu was allowed as long as he wanted in there, not like Cassian intended on using the shower at the current moment anyway. He'd showered before he even came downstairs.

When he does come out though, the priest had been kind enough to leave a ham and cheese omelet out for him.

Free to eat it or leave it.

Tannusen emerges sometime later, very clean and also very shirtless. He's wadded up and thrown his torn up, blood-soaked shirt in the nearest trash.

The only truly noteworthy scar on his front is a pale, shiny crescent precisely where one would expect if someone who wasn't very good at it had tried to carve his heart out... and discovered that the breast bone is sorta in the way... and then the knife slid around because the person resorted to trying to dig a hole like it was a spoon.

Hey, not everyone can be an expert like Cassian.

He pokes at the omelet with one fingertip, like it's suspicious.

If there's anything going on in Cassian's head at this, he gives no sign. Not like Tannusen is an empath after all.

Another glance at the scars, but no mention made, if anything it just looked like he'd been looking at him because he walked into the room.

"Oh just eat it, it ain't poisoned."

"...Mh," Tannusen, honey, you're sulking.

At least he's pretty while he sulks.

He's not even doing it on purpose, his old shirt just looks like a swarm of piranha attacked a bag full of blood in it and at that point, why bother. And his hair tie is just, lost to the world somewhere.

And his hair, freshly-washed, is all shiny and sleek and so. fucking. platinum. blond.

And his ass? Looks goddamned amazing in tight black jeans, okay. You could bounce all kinds of currency off that thing if you weren't busy doing laundry on his abs.

"I don't know how humans eat in the morning."

Liar.

And Cassian is dead to it all. Or not. Hard to tell, he's eating and not really looking at him, flipping through the paper that didn't actually break one of his windows this time.

"Then I guess you're gonna starve ain't ye?"

Tannusen laughs at that, "Hardly. To be honest, I just find myself wondering why you keep pushing food at me. You're the skinny one. Eat more."

Like it's that simple. Duh. He pushes the plate over to Cassian's. Here, have seconds, you scrawny midget.

Of course, overlaying all that glorious bare skin is a pattern of bruising that has had the whole night to bloom. A few are distinctly boot-prints. His face is all bruised too, of course. And yes, a handprint stands lurid around his throat.

At least he'll have healed it up before he goes to his bar tonight. Tonight. At night.

"Ugh," he's very dramatic, this morning. "Now my sleeping schedule is all fucked up again. You couldn't just let me get beaten all night so I could have a nice sleep for the day, could you?"

It's all your fault, Cassian. Asshole.

"I ain't hungry for seconds." The bowl is pushed back without even looking up from his paper. He already figured what the damage the next day would look like, Tannusen did indeed take quite a rigorous beating after all.

But he's pretty confident the tiger will be fine.

"Ye could have limped out at any point in the night, ye know. I didn't lock the door."

"Oh? And here I thought you had a thing for waking up with other people in your house," Tannusen snorts, working a knot out of his hair with his fingers. "What's with that, anyway? Seems backwards to me."

It doesn't at all, but, pooka are liars and sometimes it's super duper easy to go with the flow.

"Not locking the door? Cos zombies can't draw glyphs and if there ain't a glyph drawn, if the ensuing explosion doesn't kill 'em all, I'll pick off the rest.

Don't have to lock it."

Tannusen snorts at that, folding his very bruised arms across his very bruised chest. "You know what I mean."

"Nope."

Flat.

"Can't say I do."

"Are you just being evasive because I'm evasive, or are you being evasive to be evasive?"

"Mayhap I ain't bein' evasive at all, and you're lookin' for an answer to a problem that doesn't exist."

"Alright, then," Tannusen unfolded his arms, "but next time I'm getting my ass kicked, leave it alone, hm?"