rhys kinlan ; steals hearts (stealhearts) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-28 10:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, rhys kinlan, rivalen beau |
log; rhys & riv
WHO: Rhys Kinlan & Rivalen Beau
WHEN: Aries 5 (March 25)
WHERE: The Drunken Bard
WHAT: Rhys and Riv make new friends or acquaintances aka meet each other.
STATUS: Complete
Tonight was just not Rhys’ lucky night, although it did serve to remind him why he flitted about lonely noble ladies. While he did enjoy a challenge, he found that the attitude thrown in his face by the women he’d attempted to approach tonight was not something he particularly wanted for the evening. That realization was punctuated by a harsh slap to the face. He was okay though. He could bounce back from that. The perfect hand print, however, decided to linger on his cheek. The spot where flesh met flesh began to tingle and he shrugged turning back to the bar. The bartender, already familiar with the man, slid him his usual drink. “Not a good night for you,” he said stating the obvious. “There is no love in these women,” is all Rhys said before he began to sip his higher end liquor. He thought about cleaning up and wandering into a better bar. The women there were full of romantic notions and ready to be swept off their feet. The wide eyes of a dreamer were much prettier than the those of sharp cynics. But he was looking for something a little more wild tonight. “Perhaps, I am losing my touch,” he said raising his glass as a salute. Rivalen who had been sitting at the bar for a long while, had observed the slap Rhys had received with some perverse amusement; misery of others always made him laugh, feeling particularly chipper after that small drama he shifted on his stool by the bar and went back to his drink. Only then the man was besides him, the bartender uttering a few words (conciliatory words, it sounded like) but it was Rhys’ reply about losing his touch that caused the Samurai to give a snort halfway through his drink. The tankard was lowered, he didn’t really fancy choking on his beer and shifted his attention to Rhys. “So you normally get the pretty little birds to go with you?” Friendly enough in his tone, a little teasing snaking through underneath. “You must be really out of practice then, to get such a slap.” The bartender had shook his head before the other man spoke. They turned their attention to him before the man behind the bar went back to his business. Rhys on the other hand allowed his eyes to settle upon the other man. “Pretty little birds usually just flock to my branches.” His accent was foreign. No matter how long he’d lived in Emillion, it never went away. It hadn’t faded and it would not disappear unless he willed it, which he rarely did. He had found that women, just like men, enjoyed something different, and possibly with a touch of the exotic. Sometimes he played it a up a little thicker than usual, but for tonight, he’d let that go. “Or perhaps I should move to a seedier bar,” he said musingly to himself before continuing his conversation with his fellow bar patron. “You sir, look like many a pretty bird would flock to you as well.” He didn’t look too shabby, and he had one of those faces, but with a nice rough edge to it. The way he held himself would attract them, he felt. His fingers looked calloused from where he was sitting and he carried swords(?). He wasn’t pretty like Rhys himself, but he would judge him as a different sort of good looking. “Rhys,” he said before offering a hand to this man who had decided to engage him conversation. “Are you looking for pretty birds tonight?” “Rivalen.” He shook hands with the man, the smile turning less teasing, more friendly. “Not particularly.” That accent he couldn’t really place it, but it was not like he was here to decipher Rhys’ secrets and past, he was here on other business but that could wait. Interesting folk appeared all the time, each a tiny little cog in the machine. Some parts were more important than others, but it never hurt to know as many of them as possible. “No one has caught my eye. A few of them seem too fake, too clingy, too -” he did a vague gesture with his hand, indicating a group of girls in the far end who seemed far too young and giggly to be even here. “So choices are limited.” The hand taken, was shaken firmly. There were no sweaty palms on Rhys, but his hands were also not dry. They weren’t completely soft, but they weren’t calloused either. They simply were. He might not look it by his dress and air, but he worked hard, just in a different way. “Rivalen,” he said as if testing the word on his tongue. Then he nodded with approval, not that the other man needed it. “It’s a good name.” He’d never met a Rivalen before. He would most likely not forget it. When he gave a rundown on the faults of women, Rhys’ brows rose and rose in clear amusement at the fact that he was cutting out so many. “Sometimes the less ideal choice is the most interesting. That is the fun of taking chances.” His smile was laced with mischief as he tipped his glass toward the other man. “You are looking for someone to marry?” he teased playfully. Rivalen was apparently, for the first time in a long while, meeting a few people he tolerated beyond pretended smiles. Perhaps it was time finally soothing the passing of his cousin, or maybe Emillion had gotten more interesting as of late (besides the obvious monsters and ground opening up and such). “Marriage? Faram fuck no.” Any intentions of marriage on his part would be inextricably tied to ambitions; desires for a noble title, something to satisfy the ambition. “I’ll concede that sometimes unlikely women bring challenges.” Or unlikely men, whichever, “however tonight, in this place and time, most seem rather insipid for my taste.” The reaction to the suggestion of marriage clearly amused Rhys. He eve chuckled. If it weren’t for the dull pulse stinging the side of his face, he would be content. No, that was a lie. Even with the testament that he’d driven a woman to any sort of action imprinted upon his face, he was content. He just needed to wait for it to fade before he talked to someone else. Luckily, he had Rivalen here to keep him company until that stopped. He rubbed his jaw absently. “Insipid,” Rhys repeated, letting the word roll of his tongue. “Nice choice,” he said with a raise of his brows thoughtfully. “Forgive me. I’m a bard by trade,” he said to ease anything that might be misconstrued as an insult. Getting slapped by a woman was one thing. Getting punched by a man who could probably seriously hurt him was another. “I would have to argue that viewing the sea by it’s surface alone makes you miss out on the treasures and beauty it holds beneath the waves.” He took a sip of his drink. “What qualities do you look for in a companion?” He asked curiously. Maybe he could help him out..not that the man would need help, but Rhys was a romantic at heart, even if the romance lasted a night, a few hours, or a few minutes. The poetic way of speaking made Rivalen facepalm and groan, but there was an exaggerated edge to it, intentionally over dramatic for the amusement of his current company. “Are you planning on finding me someone? Because let me assure you that I am perfectly capable.” Qualities? Rivalen didn’t look for qualities in his bed partners, be they men or women. It was simply something to do. In other words, this Samurai was the most unromantic being on the planet. Rhys was amused as well, mostly because this man was playing a game with him, and he needed the entertainment. He didn’t appear to be angry or insulted by what he’d said, which was always nice. Some fighters were so high strung and honor bound, everything was about their duty or some such. This one seemed to be quite laid back, which was a refreshing difference. “I am sure you are quite capable, but I am simply passing the time,” he said, rolling his shoulders into a shrug. “I’d much prefer to have a drink and talk to you.” Rivalen shrugged, not caring how his words sounded. Rhys was not offending him — if anything, he was entertaining. That was enough for what he wanted for tonight. (Rivalen ought to stop being so picky about women, it really narrowed down the pool of choices). Rhys bowed his head in concession. “I can do that.” He wasn’t doing much better at his original goal, so why not entertain the company of this man. “Barkeep! Another round,” he said waving a finger between him and his new companion. He dropped a few gil on the counter. The server showed up a moment later with two full glasses of their drinks of choice. He finished off the one he’d been nursing and dropped a few gil on the counter. “I love to talk,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Rivalen’s lips twitched, barely suppressing the urge to smile, “Then talk away.” |