ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-11-20 17:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !partner thread, killian jones (captain hook), tasslehoff burrfoot |
Who: Killian & Tas
What: Discovering a mutual interest in maps!!
When: Friday evening, perhaps?
Where: A bookshoppe
Rating/Warnings: Rated E for Enthusiasm (but not from the dark and surly pirate)
Status: Complete
Funny how things could be going somewhat smoothly (he had a decent amount of work - enough to keep himself afloat in his houseboat, pun intended) after migrating to the States and then it would all come tumbling down like Jack and Jill after a certain revelation from a regal, dark-haired woman who also happened to be a client of his. Killian learning that he would potentially lose a hand thanks to that whole unpleasant ‘dream bleedover’ effect had wrapped him up in a stormcloud - darkened expression, his mood considerably volatile, a sea squall gathering in those oceanic eyes of his, which were more telling than anything else. He needed to get out for a little while. The view from his windows was pleasant, but the churning waves and the setting sun only held his interest for a little while - it was beautiful, certainly, however, he found he wasn’t paying much attention as he sat outside on the porch damaging his liver with the bottle of rum he’d recently acquired because he had to have it. For some reason, he felt that compulsion to make a purchase - the darker the better, which gave it sort of a scorched caramel taste that appealed to him. It burned a little going down. Gathering his map-making supplies, he went to a local bookshoppe to spread out on a table there and get some work done. There was still some colouring he needed to do for his catacombs map, and he’d started a couple new ones since moving across the pond as well. And since the shoppe boasted a little coffee nook in the back, he got himself a cup of black road tar and went to work, sketching and measuring, brow furrowed as he was deeply involved in his task - may as well utilise both hands since he still had them, and could finagle the modern compasses and tools without difficulty. Tas didn’t read often. He found the whole sitting around staring at an unmoving piece of paper thing kind of boring. He prefered movies, though he didn’t do that too often either, because sitting around and watching moving pictures was only marginally more exciting than staring at a sheet of paper. But he did occasionally design maps for books, and today, one of his maps had been published! He’d grabbed a copy of Spy of the Solstice, and then headed to the coffee shop so that he could admire his map before taking it home and showing it off to Raistlin. Someone had just left a completely full drink sitting out on the counter - a mocha, as Tas would soon find out - so Tas made sure to grab it before it got cold or someone knocked it over. That was really quite careless of whoever had put it there. Tas felt pretty good about his good deed of the day as he sat down, taking a sip of the mocha and getting a bit of whipped cream on the tip of his nose. His butt had barely touched the seat when he saw someone hunched over a piece of paper with a compass and some other tools that Tas was a little familiar with, so he immediately hopped back up, grabbed his book, and went to go look at what the man was doing. He was making a map, and Tas could barely contain his excitement. He leaned in, nearly hovering over the man’s shoulder, and said “Wow! Do you make maps often? It sure looks like you do! It’s really good! I just love maps.” Bloody-- Killian started a bit, surprised at how he suddenly had a visitor. Not just any visitor, but someone leaning over him and hovering like a spy plane. He wasn’t usually so tense, instead possessing a sort of dark chocolate charm that hinged on the barest bit of sweetness (you caught more flies with honey than vinegar), but now he was more razorblades and teetering on the brink of disaster. Eyes that were as sharp as icicles, and just as wintry blue, took a glance over his shoulder. “Thank you,” he spoke cautiously, accent a grand mish-mosh of the Emerald Isle and something posh, though he set down the compass he’d been working with. “It’s a side-hobby, actually. Something for fun.” And not something he wanted to be interrupted doing (fuck, he should have just stayed at home to work at his old, oaken desk) but things had been ultra-strange lately, why not add something else to the mix? “...you could sit, maybe?” he suggested. “Looking at you is giving me a crick in my neck.” Tas didn’t need an invitation to sit down, but he was happy for it anyway. It was so much harder to carry on a conversation with someone when they didn’t invite him to sit down. “Me too!” Tas said. “I mean, I make maps too. For fun. Not really professionally or anything.” He put down his mocha on the table, and reached for his book and opened it to the front cover. Then, with one hand, he held it open toward the man and reached out his free hand for a handshake. “See? I drew this one myself! I’m Tasslehoff, by the way, but my friends call me Tas.” “Oh - “ Well, now, that was actually more than decent. Killian quirked an eyebrow, both surprised and a little impressed. “If you’re getting them published, that’s professional enough, aye?” He flexed his fingers (supposedly it was the left hand he was doomed to lose - the somewhat silver lining was that it wasn’t his dominant hand) and reached out to return the shake. And names, they were giving names, apparently. “Killian,” he introduced himself. “Your map is quite good too - “ He slid the book closer, to give everything a proper look-over. Amazing how it seemed like someone so bouncy (or perhaps that was simply the coffee he stole?) could sit still enough to draw something with such precision. “How long have you been a cartographer of sorts?” he asked. “It’s nice to meet you, Killian,” Tas chirped, already happy to have met his new friend. Tas had some amazing focus when he wanted to apply it, and he was always happy to sit for long periods of time at his easel, adding all the little details and legends that he needed. It always seemed to surprise people when they saw Tas focused. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say professional. I mean, it’s not like the map is of a real place.” Tas’ maps of the real world were far too imprecise to actually be considered marketable. Maybe he had the focus to sit and draw them, but he didn’t have the patience to make sure that everything was in the exact right spot when he was making a real map. “I’ve been making maps since I was a kid. My dad used to do it, and my favourite uncle did too! So they taught me. Have you been making maps for very long?” Ah, so a hobby learned from family, passed down to this young fellow here. The only thing Killian’s father taught him was how to hold his liquor - though granted, that could partly be due to genetics anyway. No need for the old man to get credit for it. “Me? Since I was - “ He almost said ‘since I was studying at the Naval college’ but quickly caught himself. Talking about that wasn’t going to happen, even though he’d taken many classes on all sorts of related subjects - Cartography, Geography, Hydrography. If he’d stuck with it he’d have become a Surveyor or something - being away from home for long periods of time, loads of travel, adventures along various coasts. But that wasn’t the reality. This was the reality - living on a houseboat, making a living as a PI who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, flitting from encounter to encounter. “Since I was about seventeen or so,” he finished smoothly. “So quite a long time, but like I said, it’s just for fun. This one’s of the Catacombs in Paris.” Killian uncovered that map - it needed to be finished with the colouring, but it was very intricate and detailed. “I tend to make maps of my travel routes. I’m a bit of a wanderer.” Had Tas just found his new best friend in the entire world? “I do too!” Tas said. “I mean, I am too! I-” He stopped so he could collect his thoughts and actually get out a coherent sentence. “I map where I go too! And I like to travel around too! I’ve never been to Paris or anything across seas like that, but I have hitchhiked and train-hopped all over the place. From Cape Columbia, Nunavut, to Cocos Island, Costa Rica! And I mapped them out too!” The maps weren’t what anyone would ever call accurate, but Tas was still rather proud of them. “What’s Europe like? I’ve always wanted to go! I’ve always heard how much fun it is to hitch around there!” The enthusiasm nearly blew the grumpy pirate out of his seat. Well then. Killian chuckled a little, taking a sip from his black-as-night coffee. “On the contrary, I’ve never been to Costa Rica, or anywhere close by,” he said. “I’m from Belfast, though. So I’ve been here and there on jaunts in Europe. Overall, it’s...” He tried to think of a good way to describe it, because Britain had been home for awhile - there were aspects he missed, but other more darker ones he had to get away from. “Everything’s a lot fresher, I think? The food’s more balanced, for one thing. Europeans also drink more wine, and stronger beer. But it’s quite easy to get around - cars are sort of the least common way to travel. It’s usually biking, public transportation, or walking. You ought to try it sometime - it’d be a long trek, but if you can handle Nunavut to Costa Rica I think you’d be alright.” That was no small journey either. “Everyone drinks stronger beer than Americans,” Tas said disdainfully, wrinkling his nose a little. He was born and raised in America, but compared to Canada and Mexico, American beer was kind of like drinking water. “I really, really, really want to go to Europe. And Asia. And Africa. And Antarctica. But it’s kind of hard to hitchhike to those places,” Tas said, pouting a little. So long as he had enough money to pay rent (when he wasn’t sleeping contently under bridges), and his cellphone bill (though, that wasn’t so much a necessity so much as it was something he just enjoyed having), he didn’t have much use for money. All in all, paying for airfare was something Tas had never really been able to do. Killian laughed roughly. “Aye, that they do,” he agreed. It was a shame that beer originating here in the States tasted like urine. But then again, his roots were with the Irish - they did their lager, ale, and stout right. “What’s that saying? ‘I find American beer to be a bit like having sex in a canoe - it’s fucking close to water.’” What glorious things to bond over, with a stranger. “You’ll get there someday, I’m sure. If you’re ever in the UK, at least, I can point you in the direction of some contacts who will let you sleep on their sofas,” he offered. Shitty hostels were also an option, while backpacking through Europe or some such - but it was also an easy way to get bedbugs. Or murdered. The people Killian knew - alright, well, maybe murder was more a thing than the bedbugs but not to someone he sent over. Tas burst out laughing at Killian’s joke, loud enough to draw a couple of looks from the other people in the vicinity. “That’s funny!” he said. He stored it away for future reference, wondering to himself it Raistlin would find it as funny as Tas did. Caramon would, that was for sure. “Really? That sounds like fun. I love meeting new people, and people who let you stay on their couches when they barely know you are always the best kinds of people to meet.” Of course, there was the distinct possibility that Tas might bring out even the most patient of people’s latent homicidal tendencies. “They’re used to backpackers coming through, I think. Besides, I’m owed a few favours anyway - never know when you’ll need to call them in,” Killian winked, hmm, ever so shady and mysterious. But that was how he lived his life, cloaked in shadows and secrets and playing his cards very close to his chest. This person he just met seemed to be an open book, throwing it all out there. It was almost morbidly fascinating. “Have you got any other, uh, fictional maps in the works?” That was an interesting way to earn money - something Killian could see himself doing, if he wasn’t involved with tracking of the often illegal persuasion. Well, if people owed Killian favours, that must mean that he was a nice guy. After all, people who weren’t nice didn’t really do favours for people. “That’s so nice of you,” Tas said cheerfully. “I should start saving up so I can meet your friends. I hope they’re as nice as you are!” At Killian’s question, Tas reached for the map case he usually wore before remembering that he hadn’t been carrying it around. When he was travelling, going from place to place without anywhere to keep his stuff, he kept them on him at all times. But now he was renting an apartment with Raistlin, and so his maps were decorating the walls. “I am!” he said. “I’d show you but I guess I left it at home. That’s too bad. And you were so nice to show me your neat map of the Catacombs! Well, you’re welcome to come over anytime you want! I could show you all my maps. I have some pretty old ones too!” An invitation to visit the humble abode? Killian considered himself flattered, in a way. Nevermind that this person was probably the friendliest he’d met in the States thus far - they seemed to be a friendly people anyway. Loud, and boisterous (case in point...) but still ridiculously personable. “Well, why not?” he shrugged, though it sort of felt like he was opening Pandora’s Box and being sucked inside. Was he going to regret this? Aye, probably. Probably so. “If you’ve heard of a forum called Valar, I’m on there. If not, you ought to consider signing up.” And be plagued with terrible dreams like everyone else. “I am on Valar!” Tas chirped. “I signed me and my roommate up when we first moved here so that we could meet new people! What a great coincidence that you’re on there too! It’s such an interesting website! People seem to have such exciting dreams! Do you have dreams too? I can’t wait until I get some!” Oy, and now this conversation had hit a brick wall - because Killian wasn’t going to discuss his dreams, not right now. Not with...someone who he barely knew. He was already a private person, and the nature of those bloody things made him even more so. “I’ve only had a few anyway,” he said, as if it couldn’t possibly matter - surely there were other more fascinating people to talk to when it came to the dreams. “Anyway, I should get going. I didn’t mean to stay this long.” And now for a smooth exit - so he could find a bottle of something strong and drown in it, thus not thinking about his hand conversation with Regina. He began packing up his things, sparing a glance at his newfound friendly friend. “But good to meet you, mate - sure I’ll see you around, yeah?” Whether he liked it or not. Tas was about to ask what Killian dreamed about, but he was already getting ready to leave. Tas was a little disappointed about it, but he was used to people suddenly remembering places they needed to be when he talked to them. People always seemed to be in such a hurry. “Of course! You’ll have to come over sometime and see all my maps! Oh, and I’ll have to go over to your place sometime so I can see yours too! Have a great day, Killian! I can’t wait to see your map when it’s finished!” |