Welcome to Gaia! ::

New Acquaintances-----------------------
A Private Roleplay...
Players: Dracul Vladimir IV, Slanndalous, & Chrystali


The Ancient winced as the final bullet fell into the metal mixing bowl with a loud clang. He watched it roll around haphazardly until it came to a stop next to the five other pieces of ammunition he had picked out of his skin with a knife. They all laid peacefully in a shallow, congealing pool of Fathle’s black blood, a few slimy trails clinging stubbornly to the sides of the reflective container. The red-haired man sighed and tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling of Werika’s bathroom, waiting for the throbbing pain to subside, before he finally stood up and placed the metal bowl and knife into the sink.

The hot water from the shower head felt nice against his newly healed skin and faint swirls of black ink slipped away into the drain as Fathle washed himself clean of blood, dirt, and grime. He was thankful that Werika had not been home. His ruined, blood-soaked clothes – an unfortunate byproduct of a hunt that had gone slightly awry - probably would have elicited some words or raised eyebrows even from his hardened roommate. The Ancient had killed time meandering throughout the dank shadows and drug-ridden corridors until it was dark enough for him to move about without turning heads. As Fathle pressed his forehead against the nearest, cool shower tile, he made a mental note to himself to terminate his stay in the penthouse suite at the Barrington Hotel.

The metal rings of the flimsy shower curtain harshly sang as Fathle quickly slid them across the metal pole as he stepped out of the shower; he was followed by soft curls of hot steam that stuck greedily against the Ancient’s clean, pale skin. A quick glance to the bathroom mirror revealed that the man had two new, pink scars on his upper chest and lower hip. They would be gone in a matter of days. With only a pair of comfortably worn blue jeans hanging loosely about his hips, Fathle stepped out into the hallway while continuing to dry off his dark red hair. His skin immediately prickled at the sudden temperature and humidity change, and the warm dew that dotted Fathle’s shoulders and chest slowly began to lose their heat.

How long had it been? 3 days? 4 days? A week?

Fathle couldn’t remember but he felt as though he had not been within Werika’s apartment for many days after he had nearly fled from it. A strange sense of belonging tickled his senses as he looked at the casual details of a space that had been comfortably lived in, clues of his friend’s existence soaking the place.

After one last attempt to get the majority of the water out of his hair, the Ancient draped his damp, white towel on the back of a chair to dry out while he walked into the kitchen. Fathle was sure Werika would probably be glad to have homecook meals again and what better way was there to surprise a friend with your unexpected return than delicious food?

The Ancient laughed at the human’s unveiled enthusiasm for his food and turned his head to let his red eyes stare at Werika with an amused, critical gaze. “Though, it does seem as though you have not suffered too much in my absence, my dear Werika…” Fathle was currently searing thinly sliced pieces of beef that had been marinated in a garlic-based sauce and the different flavors seemed to weave an orchestra for the nose as they touched the atmosphere through the steam.

“For tonight, you will be having slices of beef that will rest on a bed of rice accompanied by a healthy portion of steamed asparagus,” the Ancient proclaimed with a grand sweep of his hand as he turned – careful not to hit Werika with a hot skillet – and skillfully laid the contents out on top of a prepared plate. After setting the kitchen utensil back down upon the hot stove, Fathle carried the plate to the dining table and set it down next to an unopened can of Werika’s favorite beer. There was a certain charm to the Ancient domestic etiquette and knowledge; there also a sense of displacement when one thought of Fathle’s more violent nature. Of course, his rather blunt roommate had called his tendencies ‘gay’ once before but Fathle carried himself like a man from a past era, and he never seemed perturbed – but rather amused – when the shaman would tease him about it.

“Everything is ready if you’d like to eat now, Werika… And I will actually be joining you to tonight since we are celebrating the end of you consuming only meals that are prepared in cardboard boxes,” the red-haired man said amiably as he disappeared back into the kitchen and reappeared with his plate that was loaded down with only the rarest pieces of beef. The shaman and Fathle had touched on this subject some time in the beginning of their friendship; the Ancient could eat food but meat was the only thing he could tolerate because everything else tasted like paper to his tongue. And Fathle liked his protein very, very rare.

The Ancient set his plate down in front of his seat and then exited the kitchen area for a moment to grab a shirt to cover his naked chest. When Fathle passed the open bathroom door that was still sticky from his previous shower, the Ancient suddenly remembered that the bullets and the knife were still sitting in the sink. The red-haired man swiftly grabbed the metal bowl and carried it out of the bathroom before hiding it in a small cabinet. It would be bad manners to show such a morbid thing just before eating.

“So, shall we dine or will you be taking a shower first?” he asked as he reappeared at the table and hovered over his seat, waiting for Werika to make his decision.

"Eh, migh' as well ea' now... Dun wan' all yer hard work ta ge' all cold an' shi'..." Not that he wouldn't eat it cold anyways. Hell, even if Fathle left it out for two days he'd still eat it, he wasn't picky.

We`rika sat down across from his friend eagerly, his ears perked high as he grinned form ear to ear. There was no denying that the shaman was in heaven. Cracking open his beer, he gracefully (as graceful as he could be) shoveled it all in, not so much as cutting the meat as tearing off what he could with his sharp little fangs. With a nice big mouthful, he sighed contently. "Di' i' gooo'...." He attempted to say over the lump of food in his mouth. Then began the amusing spectacle of We`rika positioning the lump around with his tongue so he could feed it down his throat. It took many an attempt but finally he swallowed it with a loud gulp. "Soo uhh--Hey..." His brows furrowed as his ears began to concentration on the living room. "Did you hear tha'...?"

Grabbing hold of his little table, the shaman leaned as far as he could to peak into the other room, but the sudden vision of a feisty Italian bird almost knocked him out of his seat. "How th'balls--?" Ah, well she was Brad's sister. He probably gave her his spare key. He glanced quickly to Fathle before meeting her green eyes again, a bit dumbfounded by the harsh look he was giving him. Usually he had to do something first before she gave him that look. "Ah, yeah... He's one of my ah, few friends..."

Careful not to knock the table as he got up, the short huichol gave his favorite woman a jackal of a smile. "Whatcha doin' here? Tryin' ta jump in fron' of yer brother ta ge' me? Verrry swee' of ya..." All joking aside, he wrapped his dark arms around her petite waist and gave Alex a friendly hug, truly happy to see a familiar face which he hoped he could erase that disgruntled look off of.

"Foolin' wha--?" His curiosity was temporarily cut short as he followed his abuser back into the kitchen. Oh sweet merciful hoo-ha she had brought him food! We`rika could barely keep his giddies to himself. In fact, he couldn't help but glance over at Fathle with a large gloating smile, so proud of being so suddenly spoiled. "Oh my God, yer amazin'....!" He was ready to let his heart fatten over and overdose on the sweet rich goodness of Italian nummies.

It was only until she started adjusting herself did the shaman come back to reality, pulling his brown eyes up to meet hers. "Cheer-up plan...? Hey--Heyhey!" He followed quickly behind her, wrapping his tree trunk arms around her so she couldn't escape. If he could pick up Brad, he could certainly control this lil bag of bones. Though, the last time he tried to pick up Brad.... he got him up, sure, but after only moments he pretty much fell right on top of B and destroyed what ever romance had been wafting in the air that night. "Whaaa are ya smokin', girl? I' wasn' a failure, ya cheered me righ' up. I'mma happy ya were worried if ah was witherin' away, see?" He smiled like a toothy beast and, picking her up off the floor, spun her back around toward the kitchen.

"And for th'love of God I dun need ya interpetin' wha'ever ya wan' from this... He's mah friend whom I haven' ******** and do no' plan on ********> Okay, yeah it was kinda sad. Fathle had such a nice tight lil-- "Dun go home yammerin' yer sassy a** ta B, I'mma barely hangin' by a ********' thread with him as i' is so jes shhhhhhhhh!! An' be nice..." Waddling her dead weight back into the kitchen, he introduced her. "Fathle, this is Alex, my liil sugar bug..." He gave her a little nuzzle just to twist the knife a bit further. "Alex, this is my frriiend Fahle tha' I me' through mah cousin..." We`rika decided it was best to put her back down lest her foot meet his nuts in a most painful and unsexy way.

"Yes, I know," she replied with a lazy smile to We`rika's 'amazing' comment. Before she could reach around to pull the key out of her pocket, she found herself enveloped, for a lack of better term, in the shaman's large arms. "What the--We`rika, put me down!!" she practically squeaked as she was suddenly being moved - against her will - to whoever the other was. Great. Awkward much? She was going to kill him, yes, and make herself feel better for this disasterous encounter.

Alex curled her lip at her friend. "Now that is a crock, there isn't anything you wouldn't want with a warm--sugar bug?!" The woman was absolutely rigid with disgust and brewing rage. Death would be too kind to the shaman at this point, and it was a damn good thing he put her down when she did, as one of those shiny boots was beginning to turn at a precarious angle best suited for lifting at a forcable rate. Once her feet touched the ground, she was prepared to turn on We`rika and give him a good what for, but her hand was being held and kissed.

Kissed.

The fight drained out of her frame in favor of sheer and unquestionable shock. Her eyes were inexorably drawn to the taller man's face, staring in mute fascination at the bow and civilized greeting. The woman had to refrain from pulling away with mistrust, practically pressing back against We`rika to manage the surprise she felt. To say that this was the last thing she'd expect from a friend of her friend was a complete understatement. The handsome part, she could have excused as a lucky shot, but this? This was polite, well-spoken andpullingherclose.

Green eyes were impossibly wide as she gazed up - yes, up, something she'd only had to do with her brother - at the smiling and intelligent sounding man. Who was speaking to her. Even had her in a close vicinity, which was odd enough. And inviting her to dinner.

Her expression was not one of terror, not one of a captured beast, but of disbelief. Waiting for the other shoe to fall, the punchline, et al. Somehow she managed to tear her gaze off of the other man to stare at We`rika. Was there a camera she was supposed to be facing? A joke she missed? Was he going to pull out handcuffs and start stripping? Alex blinked and looked again to Fathle, and it occured to her that she'd been silent through the exchange and continued to be wordless.

"Uh," she uttered intelligently, "nice to meet you...Fathle." She bit her bottom lip, trying to will her brain to catch up with the conversation before she shook her head, "No, I couldn't stay for dinner, this is..." really damn awkward "...just a fly-by visit, I didn't really think he'd be home, honestly." At a bar maybe, but not at home having dinner with some cordial, good-looking guy who stepped out of medieval literature.

Just remember he's probably gay and all will be well. Yeah, like that was any help when he was smiling at her. "Thanks for the invitation though, I should...definitely not be here." It felt vaguely like the Twilight Zone to her, and she was half-expecting Fathle to grow a second head or a third n****e or something equally as bizarre, just to make things normal!

"Ah--Uhhh......" We`rika was just as dumbfounded as Alex at that moment. It was like his friend swooped down from Heaven to grace Alex with his magnanimousness. His long ears fell miserably, common brown eyes narrowing with irritation and jealousy, of course. Didn't he just say Alex was his lil snuggle bug? Yeah, preeetty ******** sure he did. ******** suave Fathle. The shaman would have to get fangy to teach him his secrets.

With the woman sandwiched between them, Alex had nowhere to go. Mwahahaha! Clasping her bare shoulders, We`rika smiled like an angel (well, We`rika's version of an angel). "Yes, yes yer gonna ea' with us! I'lla gi' ya a plaaa'e!" The huichol practically frolicked over to the stove, spooning a plate of rice on the awaiting plate with a few carefully placed slices of steak and stocks of asparagus. Strutting back over to the table, he set Alex's plate between theirs. "I already plated i' ou' so ya hafta si', see?"

The Ancient’s first instinct was to gently reprimand Werika for literally forcing the young woman to join them for dinner. However, his words caught themselves on his lips when his acute gaze took in the way the shaman’s ears seemed to fall and the way his roommate’s jaw tightened. Fathle quirked his eyebrow slightly as he slowly sat down in his seat, his eyes alternating between Alex, who was staring determinedly at her plate, and the disgruntled shaman, who, for all intents and purposes, was looking at him with something akin to annoyance and… jealousy?

“Please, do not force yourself to eat,” he said almost as a kind of compromise to Alex’s awkward position before letting his red eyes flick over to the shaman. Fathle was able to keep his slight sense of confusion at Werika’s sudden bad mood from curving his lips into a frown and he kept his tone light and pleasant. “You may say that we are roommates of the loosest sense. I’m afraid that I grew tired of residing in hotel rooms, and I enlisted Werika’s hospitality in exchange for cooking his meals. However, I still have hotel residencies on the far side of town for late business meetings and, because of our schedules, there are periods when we do not see each other for a week at a time.” The Ancient paused for a moment as he let his fingers wrap around his wine glass and absently swirled the contents until amber waves threatened to splash over the translucent edges. “Overall, I believe it’s worked out relatively well thus far.” Fathle let his red eyes study Werika over the top of his glass as he pressed it to his lips before setting it down again and turning his full attention to Alex.

“But I am most curious about you, my dear,” Fathle said with a slight smile, “May I ask how you and Werika became aquainted?”

We`rika could barely keep up with the conversation since, well, he didn't know half the words they were using. But what he could do was smile like an obnoxious chipmunk at Alex when she looked to him, his cheeks filled round with rice and beef.

So he just kept shoveling, taking a moment now and then to breathe and take a sip of his beer. With a shrill crack from the china plate, he almost bolted upright, long ears pulled back in heinous alarm.

"Hurry, Alex... HURRY! Ahhh is abou' ta spill on th'ground nooo!!" Cupping his hand at the rim of the table, the shaman leaned over and began lapping up what was left of the wine. Like a vacuum, he rolled across the wooden counter top with ease, his tongue flopping back and forth as random noises emanated from his big sucking mouth. He couldn't allow good wine to be wasted, even if it was Fathle's.