bastian kelmendir is probably chilly (heiau) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-30 02:12:00 |
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Bastian Kelmendir was having a lovely time -- it was so nice to socialize with his fellows in the Guild of Fighters! He felt almost at home for the first time, here in this strange city too large by half, and he could credit Zacheus Aleyne's birthday party for being the only thing thus far in his tenure in Emillion that had set him truly at ease. Bierfest had been a nice diversion, of course, but an awkward encounter with a handsome man had left him with more questions than answers, and the easy camaraderie of this celebration had been much less… thought-provoking. He was here with brothers in arms -- not his brothers of the Order, but brothers nonetheless, and sisters too -- and he was already quite far along to a healthy buzz from the sweet ales served at the Drunken Bard. Despite the fact that Raol arrived to the celebration early, he wasn't in the same state of inebriation as the others. His dalliances with being completely sloshed generally kept themselves to major milestones like his birthday. Leveren was more content to let the others go wild; someone had to make sure everyone made it home okay. The Silver Blade left his post on the outer edges of the group to return to the bar. He ordered something light, making sure to ask the bartender to serve it in something that wouldn't get him mocked. He turned to watch his friends laugh and shout stories over each other. Raol couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Thank you, sir, it is so very good," Bastian was saying, to the barkeep. He lifted his mug of ale amiably, as if to illustrate his pleasure. He was never sure if he was communicating things properly, but it always paid to try extra hard. As he turned back out toward the party, he stopped halfway mid-pivot to blush at the Holy Knight now standing beside him. "Brother Leveren," he said, tongue tripping over the surname a bit. He smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. "Brother Bastian," Raol returned with a wry smile. It wasn't the proper way of greeting a monk, but he hadn't actually caught the other man's last name. "Please, call me Raol." He didn't have the heart to correct the new transplant that he was a Vizekorporal and should be addressed as such if they were going to be formal. It just seemed rude. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." "I am!" Bastian said, with a toothy grin. "It was very nice of the guild to invite me. I had thought Mister Aleyne had invited me himself, but it is appearing that I had been mistaken." The monk rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, a little self-consciously. "But he was very nice, when I was wishing him congratulations on his birthday." He leaned back against the bar a bit, taking a sip from his mug. "I have not seen you since your own birthday, R-aol. How are you being?" The Kolokauian language had no 'r', and while Bastian was getting better at the sound it still came out a bit like 'Lhaol'. "Mm. I'm sure that was Rictor that did the inviting." Zacheus and Rictor were close friends. It was a major reason why Zacheus and Raol weren't closer. "Since my--? Oh." Oh. They had spoken that night, when his crew of Blades went out and got extremely inebriated for his 30th. Raol blushed, staring into his tankard. "I apologize if I was… inappropriate. I had quite a bit to drink that night." Frowning, a bit confused, Bastian placed his free hand on Raol's. "There is no need for apologies, Raol. I was being very much addled myself, and it was I who made designs on you." A sheepish little smile. "Though as I am recalling, you did not seem overmuch upset at the time." He gave the knight's hand a little squeeze. "In the time since, though, you have stayed at such a far distance. I was fearing I had offended you." Raol's eyes widened. "Come on." They were way too close to other people to be having this conversation. He made a quick executive decision to remove Bastian and himself from right next to the bar. He led Bastian to a table out of the way, but not so far as to be conspicuous. He took a seat and waited for the monk to sit down before he spoke. "I was drinking a lot, honestly I don't remember the night after a certain point so don't take it personally." Raol paused for a moment as he gathered his words. "I do not do stuff like that usually. I can't, given my station." "Oh, I see." Bastian followed Raol without complaint, and listened very earnestly. "But you were explaining then--" He lowered his voice, for he could tell that this was a topic the other man wanted to keep quiet. "You were explaining then that you are not chaste. I..." He blushed a little. "I asked, because I did not know the custom of your... hm." Raol's discomfort had become so very obvious. "Would you like to discuss this somewhere else?" Bastian asked, glancing over at the other Blades and members of the Fighters' Guild. "Outside, or in another room where your compatriots are not being there." "I don't think that's a good idea." For one, it was cold as the tops of Mt. Bur-Omisace outside. For two, Raol really didn't know anything about this guy aside from the fact that he was a foreigner and apparently kissed strange men on the street. Bastian leaned forward a little, his bare shoulders flexing with the movement. "In my country," he said, with a wry little smile, "it is not so strange a thing to be kissing a handsome man for his birthday." He took a mighty swig from his mug of ale. "I had admired you in the guildhall, and then I thought you found me handsome as well, so I was kissing you. If I misunderstood I do apologize." The monk's smile turned into a cheeky grin. "Do you not find me handsome, Raol?" Raol grabbed his drink and chugged it. Finishing off his own drink, and positively glowing with the sweet heady buzz of the ale, Bastian leaned forward even more conspiratorially. "I am thinking," he murmured, "that you are needing to worry a little less about your station all of the time. It is a good way to lose your head, Raol." Glancing over his shoulder, Bastian indicated vaguely toward the back of the bar. "I am noticing a storeroom in the back," he said. "No one is being there. We can have a conversation, get away from your brethren who concern you so." "Hn." Bastian was tenacious. Raol rubbed at the stubble that covered his cheek as a war raged within. He knew it wasn't right, but it had been so long since he'd held the attention of another. Either way, he'd regret his actions. "A short conversation. I have to be back." "To be sure," Bastian said, with another devilish grin. |