Gratia (
skeletoncity) wrote in
psychoshenanigans2017-03-17 10:30 pm
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GRATIA // PSL
The first thing he feels is the cold.
It permeates everything down here on the lower levels. What little warmth humans have made for themselves is greedily gobbled up by the stone walls that surround them on all sides. Despite the stirring of people in the streets, in their homes, and around corners, this place feels like a grave. A similar sense seems to loom over the heads of most who make their way through this deep, dark part of the world, hovering around them like a cloud of inevitability. No one has been outright sentenced to death, but they may as well be.
Upon waking, Tek will have found himself in a dark, wet alleyway. Attempts to orient himself reveal that he has been brought, somehow, to an impressively large network of tunnels that all lead, more or less, to three or four larger chambers. There is far more vibrant life above him somewhere, far, far above the layer of caves he's in now, and there is also a very deep, sluggish form of life somewhere far below his feet.
No one is coming to get him. No one follows him in his immediate vicinity--the few stragglers hanging around doorsteps and windows don't give him a second glance, or even a first one. The place is crowded, but not busy. Everyone keeps their heads down. The people are all dressed poorly, in rags and robes and bundles that suggest a certain level of consistent poverty all throughout the level. The buildings in these tunnels look man-made, either built from scrap or carved straight out of the rock of the cave, but the majority of the actual roads and cave walls seem to have been formed with very little help from human hands.
The place is lit with lanterns and dirty-looking florescents suspended high above in the cave ceiling. The air is thick and stuffy, the smell of mold and mud prevalent over even the smell of human stagnation. It would not be hard to drag someone off, and he gets the immediate feeling that if he did, it's unlikely that anyone would come looking for them.
What does he do?
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he pulls down a couple of things. a paper bag, a tin, and something wrapped in cloth. something gets pulled out of his small ice-box as well, a box of leftovers from somewhere, it would seem.]
Oh, just a couple of hours. [he casually mentions this as he brings his things over.] Maybe less, depending on how quickly your body processes these kinds of things. I'm not sure what the rules are for people made of poison...
[he sets his packages on the table with a clever little smirk.]
But we'll have to see, won't we?
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[he may very well be working with a quickly-ticking clock, and he's halfway wishing that he'd paid more attention to the griping of his substance-abusing cousins in the past. it prompts him to begin the process of sitting up more properly at the table. his loosened nerves are encouraging him to be lazy and unhurried with everything, but he doesn't want to miss out on a second of exploration, especially while his companion is also motivated.
once at least mostly propped up at the table (but it still can barely be called sitting up) he looks over the articles being laid out, trying not to seem too eager about it.]
What do we have here?
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[but he opens all of the packages. the paper bag is filled with hard, dried meat of some kind. the tin is filled with some kind of thin-looking cracker. the fabric is peeled back to show a lump of hard cheese (he produces an accompanying knife, as well), and the box is half-filled with something that has been breaded and sprinkled with small seeds.]
But please, feel free. Try everything.
[he gestures at the food in front of him, and doesn't hesitate to pick up one of the little nuggets of something from the box of leftovers and pop it in his mouth.]
Everything tastes really good on this one... [he says, with his mouth full, having to cover part of it so as not to spill out of the bad side of his face on accident.]
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he goes for those little (fried?) nuggets of food first, and takes another moment to just look the thing over as if it's a little gem in his hand, before finally pushing it into his mouth.]
I thought you said it wasn't dangerous.
[he chuckles at his own joke, but it's mostly because he can't actually get fat. joke's on you, world.]
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Tonic laughs at the joke, still having to cover his mouth, and then coughs a little so as not to choke on his food.]
Someday, darling, what we should really do... [he looks and leans to the side, suddenly remembering that he also wanted to light candles--and brings several of them back to the table as he talks.] Is go somewhere, order a bunch of different little plates, and then get high. Ugh...
[it's a disgusted sound, but only because it sounds like paradise. he pops another nugget into his mouth before lighting a match.]
It'd be so expensive... But so worth it...
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when he finally replies with more than a laugh, it's while he's inspecting a bitten-in-half nugget as if he's trying to figure out exactly where all these tastes and textures are coming from.]
Is that before, after, or during our trip upstairs? [because he's still serious about that one.]
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Please, I could not afford to eat like that upstairs, babe.
[he giggles as he flicks the match out, busying with lighting another candle. scents of burning wicks and melting wax start to mingle in with the other foods, and the room is slowly filled with a warm, soft orange light. not long after, he adds with a smirk:]
But before or after, that's fine.
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he gets distracted pretty quickly after that, though. the light is changing, and he needs more food. he smiles as the candles wink to life, reaching for the cheese knife as he does so.]
Well... this is romantic.
[and he seems as though he may have a follow-up comment, but the knife feels almost startlingly light in his hand when he picks it up. so, instead of using it to cut himself a snack, he brings it back with him as he straightens again, looking at it thoughtfully...]
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...but by the time he returns to the center to grab another candle, he snickers.]
Listen, I think I know what you're doing... But that was extremely ominous, babe.
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and then he just giggles and starts twirling the thing around between his fingers, marveling at how the little knife feels like water in his hand. easy and light, he can't help but feel a little inspired by it.]
...I was just wondering what swordplay might be like, in this state.
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and then he goes and says that... and Tonic gives up on whatever he was doing, sliding those candles just far enough out of the way to go leaning forward himself, a dreamy little smirk sliding over his face as he gazes up at his friend.]
That is the sexiest thing you've ever said. [he props his face up in his hands with an infatuated sigh.] Tell me more.
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Have I failed to mention that hobby of mine before? [the knife flips around to be held point-first in his hand, and then flips along his fingers to be gripped point-down, while he thinks.] I just couldn't help but imagine that it might be more effortless, like this. Maybe something more like dancing than a struggle.
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the smirk on his face only grows wider. he is both potential prey and an appreciator of fine art.]
Hah, you'd think that... Until you get distracted by the glint of your opponent's blade.
[...he reaches down, not really looking, and grabs a piece of jerky. he twirls it out towards Tek, almost mocking his knife-play, but intends to jab it in the direction of the other's mouth. keep eating, friend. he still seems perfectly infatuated with the situation at hand--he just got tired of being the only one not doing something.]
That's interesting, though... Just swords?
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Knives are fine too. They're just messy.
[and when he does bite down into the piece of dried meat... he almost immediately begins to get preoccupied in the actual feeling of biting it. the way the tough pressure on his teeth makes the bones of his mouth feel is fascinating...]
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Oh, they are... I can't say I'm a fan of blades in general, having been on the receiving end of one a few too many times...
[but he sets his knife down, starting to idly chew on some cheese with a smile on his face.]
But I wouldn't mind watching, certainly. I'm sure you're stunning with one.
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he's still looking off through the middle distance when he's complimented, but he grins. he agrees, at any rate.]
I did buy a blade on a visit upstairs, and it's very pretty... but it still pales in comparison to ones that I've had in the past.
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[Tonic settles down on the table again, continuing to enjoy the texture of what he's eating, and the small warmth from the candles that have become inadvertently nestled around him. he looks more than happy to listen to Tek talk.]
Tell me about them. Any favorites?
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Yes. And I think I'm always looking for its replacement, but I know I'll never find exactly what I'm looking for.
[it's a good thing that Tonic has moved the knife away from him (and that Tek has always been courteous enough to visit while unarmed) because he would absolutely love a knife to gesture with right now. his eyes even move thoughtfully in that direction while he holds and demonstrates with nothing instead.]
It was unique primarily because it was balanced poorly. It had once been a longer sword, but the blade had been broken and reshaped into a shorter weapon, leaving it hilt-heavy. It was useless to most people.
[but, by his wistful expression, it was perfect for him alone.]
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Interesting...
[hopefully, Tek doesn't need any more to go off of than that... Tonic's attention does drift away as he thinks about the logistics of a sword weighted incorrectly, imagining that one could potentially wield it with deadly speed, but he does not say any of this out loud.]
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They were always so surprised. A blade like that didn't have much natural heft to it, but when you were quick enough and knew exactly what to do with it, you didn't need much force behind it.
[and while he's reconstructing the image in his own head, his gaze finally focuses again and settles on his companion with a knowing little smile.]
A necessity, however... was a well-tailored coat, fitted and clean, allowing you to move without it getting in the way when it counts.
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he shouldn't say it, and he knows he shouldn't, but that makes him smirk all the more as he leans even further forward--voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial tone.]
I would love to watch you stab someone while wearing that coat.
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--While wearing a memento of a dead man on my sleeve?
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Honestly, darling, the dead man hadn't even crossed my mind.
[it was all the thought of his new favorite person in his new favorite coat. he laughs again, a little lighter this time, as he looks playfully away as if he'd been caught at something.]
Though, now that you mention it...
[the memento would kind of make it sexier.]
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What about whoever it is that I'm stabbing? Would that complete the picture as well?
[again, he's riding on a hunch. and he reaches over to steal one of the wedges of cheese in the meantime because all this talk of murder makes him hungry.]
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That would, wouldn't it? Hm...
[he definitely likes the thought, and spends the next several moments drifting through his memories of various people, no doubt imagining what it would be like to watch each of them get stabbed. he starts fidgeting at his mouth, a small, tingling sensation while he thinks.]
Oh, but there are so many to choose from...
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