The next several chapters in this story are a collaborative effort with several other writers from the Valdemar's Intrigue group. For continuity, I'm including their work here in chronological order, with appropriate credits and linkies. :oD Also included are the post numbers, in case your curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to wander over to our group for further reading...
In this chapter, thanks go to Melitza - ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ ) for permission to include her posties! She is still and will always be mah hero!!! Many many many thanks to her for helping to create the BEST BARFIGHT EVER!!! (And from a gamer of uber-years, trust me, that's saying something! Lol!) I was also told that this chapter has the best leering job ever. *evil grin*
On with the story!!!
Oh! Almost forgot the disclaimer: Valdemar and all related concepts are property of Mercedes Lackey, not me. I make no profit from the imaginings scribbled below.
*****
A Little Bit of Gratuitous Violence - 8976
DraconicCat
When:
Late, late evening
Where: Kenthle's Tavern - Haven
Who:
Kregan, Vasilis
Tags: Vasilis! (and anyone else in need of
relieving some frustrations in a time-honored tradition!)
*****
--- Kregan made some cryptic comment or another about his drink, then made some comment that eluded Vasilis about skirts (what the hell?), and Vasilis blinked as his already mildly fuddled mind whirred to keep up. Suspiciously, he eyed the other man. "Did Sulien send you?"---
"Who th' 'ell is Sulien? That who yer pinin' fer? Pah! Ye know me better'n that! I'm no messenger boy!" Kregan growls, giving Vasilis a shove, guffawing when the guard sloshes his drink. He downs the rest of his own drink, noting how the liquor tastes like water now, waves for another round.
---
"Ehh, to hell with `em, Kregan! To hell with it all! Cheap
whiskey and blood on the floor, that's all I need!" he cheered,
and downed the seventh drink and slammed it back onto the bar top,
ignoring the
dubious look of the patron. "One of whatever
he's having… for him… and me… on me!" he commanded, and
hoped maybe Kregan knew the right brew to make the ache in his chest
fade away.---
He grins, clinks his mug against Vasilis', turns in his seat to face the room, leaning easily against the bar, another drink dangling carelessly in his hands. He inhales deeply, savoring the stink of the room: spilled liquor, smoke, sweat, other less pleasant but earthy odors.
"Aye, t'hell with 'em all! Cursed witches, ev'ry las' one of 'em!"
He scans the crowded room with a practiced, if slightly bleary eye, seeking a bit of fun. The room is filled with the laborers of the city, and the atmosphere buzzes with boisterous energy. Raucous laughter and coarse, bawdy lyrics ring off the walls. A few minor scuffles break out, but settle within moments, nothing more than shoving matches really. No fun there. Then something catches Kregan's eye, and he grins, a feral expression baring all his teeth.
"I dinnae think yer gonna need t'wait long on that wish o' yers, 'Silis!" Another elbow to jostle the other man, pull his attention from the dregs of his current cup.
The young man Kregan had ousted from the bar has returned. With friends. A blacksmith, by the looks of him, all brawny muscle up top, skinny chicken legs beneath. His friends, four other young men, follow the same pattern. He notes how they cluster together, instead of fanning out, tsks through his teeth to chide them.
"Oy, lookee here, the puppy's brought friends! Ye reckon 'e wants t'play?"
The young blacksmith's face darkens in anger, and he clenches his big, meaty hands, taking another step closer, trying to loom over Kregan. His friends crowd around him, jostling Vasilis, spilling his drink.
"Me friends and I, we're goan'ta teach ye some manners, oldtimer!"
Kregan throws back his head in uproarious laughter, the young toughs glaring and glowering, flexing their considerable thews and muscles menacingly.
"Wha'cher think, 'Silis? Should I let these li'l pups teach me some manners?" He has stopped laughing, and his grin is even more fierce than before, bringing the craggy planes of his face into a mask of snarls, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8977
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
Had he been a little more sober, Vasilis might have felt irked at the hard, insistent edge of an elbow that kept nudging its way into his side. His ribs were already a little sore from a fight earlier this week, so had he been more ahem, normally inclined, his first reaction would have undoubtedly been to swing. However, luckily (unluckily?) for the both of them, Vasilis was suddenly feeling very much overbalanced, and not a little bit too affectionate.
"Aya, aya, aya!" Vasilis jeered, "Witches!" he parroted, and would have winced at the over-bright, bleary expression residing in his eyes had he had even half of his normal brooding pride about him.
He didn't, of course; Gwen had seen to that.
He leaned into Kregan a little, wrapping a companionable arm around his neck while pumping his other fist into the air. "Witches `n' bitches!" he cheered again, as if saying it with more emphasis might make him believe it. Forgetting, of course, about the mug in the air-pumping hand, whose contents were sloshing carelessly all over the countertop.
It wasn't that Vasilis didn't notice the dark look from the barkeep. He simply chose to ignore it. He was paying for the drinks, what the hell did the other man care where they ended up? Their final destination would likely be in a gutter in some back alley anyway…
Belatedly, he realized that Kregan wasn't even paying attention to him or his cheering anymore, and that there were several rather intense looking men standing in a semi-circle behind him. Vasilis blinked owlishly as one of the younger men jabbed a finger into his face.
"What'd'ya just call me?" the man hissed, and Vasilis realized that his jeering had come a little late and apparently they thought he had been replying to Kregan.
Even with his mind slightly befuddled
from the effects of alcohol, Vasilis knew that this was one of those
defining moments. The group had been picking at Kregan for some
reason or another, judging by the
ex-merc's oozing confidence and
crackling, ominous aura. Even if there were five of them to one of
Kregan, judging by their green appearances (and by his personal
knowledge of Kregan's prowess), it
wouldn't be a tough fight. It
would be a needless, senseless brawl – one that Vasilis could
easily head off with just a few of the right words. That was his job
as a guard, right? Especially when he was actually on duty.
And for gods sake, he was _in uniform_...
Meaningfully, Vasilis leaned forward, letting his stormy gray eyes catch the younger man's bright blue ones. Frowning in fierce seriousness, the guard drawled, "I just called you what you are." There was a long, awkward pause, and he leaned in a little closer and raised his voice, so there would be no questions as to what he was about to say.
Silently, Vasilis made his apologies. `Eh, sorry, Suli. Couldn't be helped.'
"A bitch."
He even let the kid get in the first swing, though it did little more than snap his head to the side. For a second, he saw stars, but that passed quickly as he reached to finger his tender jaw. "Well, that was only fair," Vasilis replied loudly, suddenly feeling very sober and very, very excited. "Ladies first and all."
Yeah, he let the other man take the first swing, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let him have the second. Vasilis Shanley wasn't that much of a gentleman, after all.
--Guard Vasilis Shanley--
OOC: He shifts gears from tipsy-silly to emo to pissy in 0 seconds flat… that's freakin' talent. Admittedly, Vasilis surprised me with his sense of humor here… *makes sparkly eyes at Vasilis* `Silis-kun, I'm only that much more in love with you now!
(Does everyone get the blatant inter-dimensional love triangle going on here? Vasilis loves Gwen, I love Vasilis, and um Gwen loves…………..um, me? LOL! Ok come on play along, people...)
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence – 8979
DraconicCat
Dead silence reigns in the bar for all of two seconds as most of the patrons stare in drunken disbelief at the guard, no one quite believing what they just heard, and then all hell breaks loose. With an inarticulate howl of rage the young blacksmith lunges at Vasilis, swinging wildly. Kregan is abruptly too busy fending off two of the other young pups to see if the boy manages to land another blow, and he throws back his head in wild laughter. A seemingly light tap with his fist downs one like a felled ox, and he grabs the other in a breath-crushing headlock. A step forward and to the side, hapless victim still tucked securely in his arm, the young man's face turning a brilliant shade of red, and Kregan's fist lashes out again, smashing the fourth man's nose in a brilliant spray of blood.
The man staggers back, howling and clutching his ruined nose, is helped another step back by Kregan's boot in his chest, flies backward into a table, collapsing it into a pile of kindling. The men at the crushed table growl and howl their dismay – apparently they were in the midst of a very serious poker game, and are more than a little displeased at having it disrupted, and even worse, having their various winnings scattered to the floor – and leap up to join in the fray, some pummeling the fool that was thrown at them, some going after other patrons, and some leaping at Kregan and Vasilis.
Within moments, the violence spreads like wildfire, and the room becomes a heaving mass of bodies, fists, blood and spittle flying everywhere. The tavern wenches flee, some out the front door, some disappearing behind the bar with the bartender. The two tavern toughs wade through the masses, suddenly bearing cudgels that they appear to have more than a passing familiarity with, laying about them with practiced ease, swimming like sharks on a blood trail right to Kregan and Vasilis.
Kregan roars with fierce laughter, adjusts his grip on his sagging victim - the poor boy's face is turning purple now, he's barely struggling now – and he surges forward to meet the toughs.
A cold glint of bared steel off to the side, and abruptly the rules change. Kregan lashes out, catches the fifth friend of the blacksmith by the arm in a bone-crushing grip, and his grin becomes something terrifying as all drunken humor seeps out, to be replaced by cold battle fury. The blacksmith's friend, pale face, terror-stricken eyes, has lunged toward the two of them, a naked dagger clutched in his hand. Kregan releases the other man from the headlock, where he slumps to the floor, gasping, coughing, and grabs the knife-wielding man by the back of his head.
CA-RACK!!!
The sound of bone cracking is audible even over the din of battle, as Kregan slams the man's dagger-wielding arm against the bar. The dagger skitters across the bar, over, onto the floor on the other side, and the blacksmith's friend howls in true pain.
Kregan pulls the man close, snarls, "Ye doan' go changin' t'rules o'the game in midplay, pup, 'lessin' yer ready fer th'consequences!"
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8982
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
The night was just beginning to get crisp. Her breath was just beginning to puff in merry white clouds in front of her face when she heard it – the shouts and racket and general din that marked that somewhere in her district, a scuffle had broken out.
Just her luck; with a heaved sigh, Sulien launched herself in the direction of the disturbance.
--
In his drunken stupor, he didn't
even recognize her until his fist was already on its merry way to
collide with her face. And even though he _did_ recognize her before
it connected, he knew it would take his
liquor addled-brain a few
extra seconds that he _did not have_ to process that
information…
Thankfully, Sulien saw it coming first. Before he could even register her movements, his fist was suddenly in hers, leaving him to whine pathetically while she very slowly, very meaningfully, increased that vice-like grip of hers. She barely even glanced at him; she was scanning the room, eyes darting to and fro as she made her quick calculations.
"Ow, ow, ow!" he protested; Sulien shot a glare from the corner of her eye – paused – then shot another, far more heated one once she actually realized whose fist she was holding captive. Apparently, she had been looking for him. "Eh… fancy meeting you here – Suli?" He felt a drop of sweat inching its way down his temple.
His knuckles cracked, and it was all he could do to not drop to his knees. He felt the color drain from his face, but that had little-to-nothing to do with the pain radiating down his arm. "Sorry?" he tried again, and judging by the way her rust-brown eyes flared to perfect, utter livid glory, that was the wrong answer.
"Oh HELL
no!" Sulien roared, and Vasilis didn't think he had ever seen
her quite this angry. And most especially not at him. When she
rounded on him, he could admit without even a hint of
embarrassment
that had it not been for her grip on his fist, he
would have run for his dear life. "Fer GODS sake, `Silis! A
drink, maybe two – ye gluttonous, wrathful pig!" Her hand was
in his tunic now, shaking him by the scruff of the neck, and the
motion was making him turn a little green in the face.
She dropped his fist, and her face flickered between disbelief and fury, with the latter swooping in for the epic win. "Oh, fer gods sake –" she started again, and he was so busy shrinking from her face that he lost track of her newly freed hand – until – "Sober UP!" She might have been a warhorse in another life – it certainly felt like a thick, powerful hoof, jamming its way up into his sternum, in _just_ the right spot –
She let him go then,
and it was a good thing. His feet never really hit the floor again,
but rather, he skipped that step in favor of going straight to his
knees. The contents of his stomach reacquainted
themselves with
the outside world, thanks to her well-place gut-punch, and Vasilis at
least had the sense of mind to feel embarrassed about retching
pathetically on the already stained tavern floor.
"Feelin' better?" she sneered, clearly mocking him. A drunk came careening towards her from behind, but she dropped him with a well-placed elbow without even a backwards glance.
Wisely, Vasilis decided it wasn't the time to complain that his stomach hurt. A lot. "Much."
"Then get the hell up a'fore I
decide to gut-punch ya in yer balls, ya brainless dolt. Do yer job!"
She made a mock kick at him that probably (keyword being probably)
wouldn't have connected anyway, but
the point was well made and
Vasilis scrambled hastily to his feet, making sure to keep a wide
berth between her and him just in case she changed her mind about the
second-gut-punch thing.
"Yes'm," he sidled uneasily to the side, with all the crushed pride of a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8983
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
Kregan drops the man with the now-broken arm, his point well-made, and turns to wade back into the fray, his blood up and enjoying himself immensely, craggy face lit with a fearsome grin. The two tavern toughs have finally reached him, cudgels swinging, and he's busy for a bit, dodging some of their stinging blows, but absorbing most of them with his sheer bulk. They seem to know what they're doing, and work well as a team, their faces all grim seriousness as they flank him, intent on removing him as a source of disruption. When they realize simply beating him into submission isn't going to work – in fact, most of their blows only seem to incite him further - they start targeting more vulnerable areas.
After the third ear-ringing blow to his head, Kregan tires of toying with them, and with a snarl grabs them each by their cudgel-wielding hands, slams them bodily together, and tosses them in the general direction he last saw Vasilis. Hearing Vasilis' startled "Oof!", and the subsequent retching, he spins about, a bit alarmed that his friend might be having some trouble in a bar brawl (maybe he shouldn't have ordered those last couple rounds of fire brandy?), weaves in place a bit, the room spinning, his eyes scanning the chaos for Vasilis.
He pauses momentarily, and watches in admiration as the newly arrived Guard begins laying about her with practiced ease, each movement precise and calculated. He studies her, through bleary eyes, watches how Vasilis seems to cringe from her, and grins. *Oy, Kregan, yer an idiot – poke at a beehive, why don'cha?*
"Oy, skirt! Catch!" He plucks a hapless drunkard off his back (he'd been standing still too long, apparently, and several men were trying their damned hardest to pull him down), shakes the man to rattle him a bit, gives him a hard shove, propelling him toward the female Guard at high speed. When she turns to see where that one came from, he leers at her and waggles his eyebrows, then pulls another off, and does the same thing, watching to see the woman's reaction.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8990
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
When
she was a little girl, she had once traveled to town with her father
when a belligerent drunk had come stumbling from a tavern of
ill-refute. The man had leered openly at her (plain looking,
broad
shouldered little girl though she was), and she had been
frozen between her initial reaction to shrinking away from his
seeking eye and stepping up to the threat.
Her father had superseded of course, and Sulien had been amazed with the utter ease at which he had put the man to his knees, retching until it seemed his insides were going to become outsides.
Now, years later
(and removed and estranged from her family to boot), it was far less
impressive. It was more a matter of the alcohol already disagreeing
with the system to begin with than any impressive
skill or force.
An elbow here – a fist there – and they were down. It seemed the
brew didn't want to stay put any more than the drunks wanted to be
docile.
She had a man's arm pinned in an uncomfortable twist behind his head when she heard the shout. "Oy, skirt! Catch!"
It wasn't the shout itself that caught her attention so much as the subsequent unidentified-flying-body; belatedly realizing she had just been called a skirt, Sulien bristled. First things first, of course; she sidestepped calmly, a well place foot set him tripping hard and a hand to the back of the scull rendered the man-made-projectile harmless. Agitatedly, she passed the man off to a startled looking Vasilis and scanned the room for the trouble maker –
Another man was barreling towards her, and judging by the look on his face, the action wasn't a voluntary one (in fact, he was looking at her with a horrified look of impending doom). Quickly shoving the second man into Vasilis's awkward capture, she glared –
At a man who was leering and wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Sulien froze. `Well what the
hell…' For a moment, she frowned –then, acting on a hunch, she
glanced back at Vasilis, and the poor boy just wasn't any better at
hiding his emotions drunk than he was
when sober. It was clear
from the stricken look on his face that he knew the other man. His
horror pretty much said aloud, `Oh crap, I've been caught!'
"The one ye started the fight with, eh?"
Vasilis started to laugh; she didn't, so he cut off in a sudden bout of coughs, which (judging by his pained wince) did nothing to help his bruising abdomen. "Eh, yes'm," he finally moaned, all sulk and apology and not a whit of use to him.
_Now_ Sulien smiled.
Abruptly snatching the latter hapless man out of
Vasilis's less-than-perfect captivity (it was more like an unwilling
bear hug), Sulien whirled and abruptly send them man tumbling back at
the craggy-faced
man. "Oh no – you're gonna clean it up
yerself, mister!" she shouted back. "I don't accept shit
from strangers!"
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8991
DraconicCat
As the drunk comes careening back towards Kregan, wind-milling his arms in a desperate but futile bid to halt his ungainly flight, the ex-merc roars with laughter before putting a fist in the poor sods face and felling him like an ox.
"Picky, picky! Jus' like a damned skirt! I s'pose 'e did look a bit like shit, eh?" He shakes off the man clinging to his leg and moves him on his merry way to unconsciousness with a good solid kick.
He grabs the last one stuck to his back, shakes him like a rag doll until his teeth literally rattle, ignores the warning glare from Vasilis, and tosses him at Sulien.
"This 'un more t'yer likin', skirt?"
His grin is hard, feral, challenging.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8992
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
Vasilis
felt like he was watching some sort of a terrible wreck happening in
slow motion. True, he was transfixed and couldn't look away – but
at the same time, he knew perfectly well that the only way
things
could turn out was very, very badly.
Kregan didn't seem to notice (or care) when Vasilis made frantic and less-than-dignified "don't!" motions with his free hand. Instead, the ex-merc grabbed yet another drunkard… and threw him at Sulien.
"This `un more t'yer likin', skirt? Or is 'e too soft for ye?"
`Oh. Dear. Gods.' The tavern was going to combust, they were all going to die, and it was all because of Kregan and his gods-be-damned fire-brandy. Wincing, Vasilis held his first captive tight in his arms, unconsciously using the poor man as a human shield.
The newest human-projective didn't even make it to Sulien. He lost his footing somewhere mid transit, and when he slammed hard into the tavern floor, Sulien finally spoke. "Vasilis."
`Oy. This is the bad…' Vasilis winced and waited for the axe to fall (figuratively or literally, he wasn't sure, but he secretly hoped literally – that would be quicker, at least).
"We're gonna have a nice long chit-chat later `bout these boys yer hangin' with." That certainly wasn't a smirk in her voice; no way in tartarus. What the hell had been in that brandy anyway? "They might'n jus' be a bad influence."
She was reaching for her sword, and horrified, Vasilis tried to think of some way to circumvent the wreck. `Run, Kregan, run!' he thought, motioning frantically at the other man (even knowing Kregan would never, never run) –
And then, suddenly, the sheathed sword was arcing in the air. Though momentarily stunned, his training kicked in and he snatched the blade from the air, staring at it in numb confusion. "Ehhh -?"
"But the boy `n' I are gonna have a lil chat first. `Silis – you be a dear `n' take care of the rest, eh?"
Amazingly enough, Kregan did nothing when she approached him – didn't even flinch as she crowded his personal space, sized him up with an expression of mild boredom. He had some inches on her, but somehow when they stood there amidst the chaos and havoc, they were eye to eye.
Finally, Sulien spoke. "The floozies are a bit bland, but yer lookin' just about right, boyo."
`Ohhh, this is the bad…' Vasilis groaned, and it was all he could do not to close his eyes and hide in a corner.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8983
Earning Your Bruises
DraconicCat
Kregan had two classifications for women: skirts – good for warming your bed and bearing your whelps, and little else, and shields – fellow soldiers who made fearsome, skilled warriors, brothers in arms, good for watching your back in a fight, locking shields with you in a wall, and sharing drinks when the opportunity arose. He tended to throw women into the first category until they proved otherwise, whether or not they were in a uniform or carrying a weapon.
He had met a great many of both in his career, had soldiered alongside "shields" better at killing than many of the other men, had even been trained under some of them. He admired their strength of character and will, their spitfire personalities, their unwillingness to ever give up, whatever the odds. Skirts, however, were soft, often vacuous, flighty, fragile, defenseless – and often had a poison sting of one sort or another (usually, in his experience, husbands or older brothers they didn't tell you about until they were trying to avenge the damned skirts' honor or some such).
Perhaps that was what so baffled and fascinated – and frustrated! – him with Aidanna. He couldn't classify her – she was strong-willed and fiery one moment, defenseless and vulnerable the next, and that absolutely enchanted him. And vexed him to no end! And now, to make things even worse, she upends the whole damned thing on him by being a witch!
Witches (mages of any ilk, the Gifted, Heralds), to Kregan, were a whole different creature – unpredictable, dangerously so, unreliable and temperamental, dangerous on a whole new level. To discover his lover is one of them – well, there's that hidden poison sting, eh?
And then, before he can even begin to sort out his feelings – betrayal, distrust, anger – she leaves! Leaves! The brawl (and the drinking, of course) has done little to alleviate his frustrations, has in fact only stoked them to greater heights. Confrontation with Aidanna is what he seeks (not that he would ever hit her – he's never struck a skirt in anger in his life), but in her absence, others will do. The other drunks in the bar have offered little challenge, and he's failed to get a rise out of Vasilis – though, in truth, he's not sure he wants to prod the man that far, having seen him on the battle-field first-hand. Perhaps this shield stalking towards him will suffice. By what he's observed so far, she has exceptional strength and skill, and perhaps mettle enough to match him.
Judging by Vasilis' complete deference to her, she's either his lover or his commanding officer. Kregan's putting his money on the latter (gods save him if he's wrong), though he can't make out her rank insignia through his bleary eyes. He's not stupid enough, despite being extraordinarily drunk, to take the first swing at a guard, but he knows from experience the exact move he can make to elicit the response he's seeking. He allows her to approach him, standing still, though his whole body quivers like a hunting dog with the quarry's scent, just waiting for the master's command. Allows her to close with him, well within reach of several vital spots, stands nose to nose with her, hard brown eyes glaring into hers. His nostrils flare, and his grin hardens.
"Boy, am I? ... Skirt!" His voice is low, the last word comes out in a derisive hiss. Before she can move, he wraps her in a bear hug, and plants a huge, wet kiss right on her lips.
*****
Earning Your Bruises - Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos ViolenceMelitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
"Boy, am I? … Skirt!"
The wagon was off the track and
careening to that point of no return. Impossibly, Vasilis got an
inkling of what was about to happen, and helplessly, he threw forward
a hand, as if to ward off the impending
wreck. "KREGAN,
NOOOooOOOoo! " It was already too late.
In slow motion, the craggy-faced mercenary threw his arms around her –
And pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to Sulien's lips.
Maybe half a
second of utter, sheer horror passed. `Sulien is going to kill him.
Sulien is going to kill _me_. Sulien is going to kill us _all_!'
Vasilis felt his face flush; the floor seemed to pitch and
keel
like the deck of a ship at sea, and for a terrible moment, he thought
he was going to pass out.
And then, the wrath of Sulien was passed down.
Her knee flew up so fast and so hard that Vasilis
thought he could actually hear a `crack!' from clear across the room.
Vasilis didn't know a whole lot about the other merc's past or if he
kept up with his
family, but somewhere in the world, one woman's
chances of having wild little grandchildren had just been
dramatically reduced.
The color drained from Vasilis's face, and he felt shooting sympathy pains for the other man. The color simply _died_ in Kregan's face, as he became a sickly, ghostly shade of white.
Her knee receeded, but unfortunately, it looked like one hand had –
Taken its place. Vasilis shifted uncomfortably in place. `Oh ye gods have mercy!'
Sulien seemed
to be squeezing and twisting (though it was hard to tell from this
angle) – but whatever it was, it was working hella good. Kregan's
sheet-pale face was covered in sweat, and he looked like he
was
going to be sick –
Undoubtedly, it hurt. It hurt _a lot_. In
fact, Vasilis thought he heard the other man make a vomiting noise
when her second fist lifted him from the ground by his gut, her first
hand still squeezing away.
To his credit (or his sorrow), he
didn't actually throw up (probably swallowed to save face, the poor,
poor man), but rather simply landed hard on the ground when Sulien
let go and took a step back.
He hit the stained tavern floor
in a clatter of bones-on-wood, curled protectively around him, um,
bits-n-pieces. `Gods above, please never let Sulien's full wrath fall
upon me,' the ex-Maizen thought, face
paling considerably when
moments slipped by and his friend still did not rise. `Ye gods –
did she rip them off?!' His discomfit was suddenly multiplied – and
apparently the feeling was shared by a lot of men who had taken
interest in the brewing fight between the guard and the initial
brawler, because a lot of people seemed to be swaying and shifting
awkwardly at the moment, hands cupping protectively at their waists.
In any other situation, the sight might have been funny; as it were,
it was just utterly, utterly horrifying.
Sulien towered over
the felled Kregan, eyes flickering dispassionately as she stared down
at him and slowly, distastefully wiped at her mouth. A small moan
escape Kregan, and Sulien cocked her head at him. "No needs t'
be beatin' yerself up over the `might've'beens' , boyo. I prolly
would'a done that anyway." It sure as hell wasn't an apology,
but it was as close to comforting words as the man was going
to
get.
Luckily, she stood just out of reach when she spoke;
Vasilis wouldn't put it past Kregan to yank her footing out from
beneath her if she was within reach. And he sure as hell wouldn't put
it past Sulien to
finish the half-castration job if he
did.
"Well… prolly," she finished, and there was an odd twinkle in her eye as she whirled on the suddenly much-quieter bar around them. "Oy, if anyone else wants `is balls handed to `im, step up! I'm in the mood!" And he had absolutely no doubt in his mind that she was; Vasilis (along with the most of the rest of the horrified witnesses) shrank into himself in more ways than one.
Sulien either didn't notice or didn't care. "Otherwise, the rest of ye better the hell start cleanin' up this goddamn mess an' get home to yer families a'fore I get real pissy!"
And just like that, the bar fight of winter solstice came to its end. A terrible, terrible ending that would forever be spoken of in hushed whispers of `castration' and `stone cold bitch with an iron grip' in Kenthle's Tavern.
"Yo, `Silis!"
The young guard nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized she
was right in his face, eyes twinkling with something that just
_couldn't_ be merriment. "Be a dear `n' take yer friend t'
a
holdin' cell to sober up for the night, eh?"
"Um – yes'm –" he started, shifting the man he only just now remembered was still in his awkward captivity a little more comfortably on his hip. Kregan still hadn't moved, but Vasilis wasn't stupid enough to think he was unconscious. Maybe pouting, but certainly aware, and it was going to be one awkward trip to jail. Somehow, he had an inkling tha Sulien realized that, and had chosen him for the task for exactly that reason (cruel, cruel woman that she was…)
"And put yer stupid ass in the cell while yer at
it. I'll come get ye when I get things cleaned up `round here."
She didn't even turn back to assure that he would comply – she
already knew he would. She even
knew he'd faithfully put himself
in the cell with Kregan just as she'd asked, if only to assure the
safety of his, erm, tender areas.
"Oy, what a way to spend the Winter Solstice! I swear I could strangle ye sometimes, `Silis!" he heard her begin to rant, and Vasilis (smart boy that he was) realized that this was definitely time to make his timely retreat with Kregan.
To jail.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8995
Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200
DraconicCat
For several eternities, Kregan's world is made up of pain. As the pain slowly – oh, so slowly – begins to recede, he spends the next few eternities re-learning how to breath, and the next few after that trying desperately not to wretch his guts out – or even worse (and more un-manning than what he'd just experienced), cry. A couple of small moans do escape, but he manages to keep the contents of his gut where they belong. When he can formulate thoughts beyond *expletive! mother of expletive! expletive! gods be expletive! unholy expletive!*, he belatedly braces himself for the follow-through kick to the ribs, then realizes more than enough time has passed as he groveled on the stained tavern floor for Sulien to have taken advantage of his helplessness, and she hasn't.
"No needs t' be beatin' yerself up over the `might've'beens' , boyo. I prolly would'a done that anyway."
*expletive! cold-hearted expletive!* He can sense she is still standing nearby, but not within arms reach – at least, not without his moving, and he's sure as all-hells not about to do that yet. Oh, no, he and the floor are becoming great friends, and if she's not going to kick him while he's down, that's just bloody expletive! fine for the moment. He remains where he is, becoming more acquainted with the wide variety of stains on the floor, as Sulien chastises the rest of the men in the tavern, and waits for the sickening pain in his groin to fade to something at least a little bit bearable. He's pretty sure even the worst gut-wound couldn't possibly hurt this badly.
Footsteps approach, and Vasilis is there, helping (pulling) Kregan to his unsteady feet. Kregan hisses through his teeth, but otherwise makes no noise or protest. Vasilis lends him a shoulder, and the two of them make their stumbling but surprisingly swift way out of Kenthle's, skirting widely around Sulien as she oversees the clean-up from the brawl.
As they stumble along the street, Kregan finally speaks, his voice a little more hoarse than usual.
"Ye haven't thrashed me yet, 'Silis, so'm guessin' she ain't yers, eh?" He laughs wryly at the horrified expression on Vasilis' face, winces, coughs. He glances around at their surroundings, gestures at a nearby building with clouds of steam drifting sedately from the doorway.
"Don't s'pose I c'n talk ye inta a quick stop a'th' bath house, fer a soak? Ne'er mind, _she'd_ come huntin' us down, wouldn't she? Gods be, let me down, let me down a bit, eh?" He stops walking, and as soon as Vasilis lets go of his arm, bends over, both hands on his knees. He coughs hard, hawks and spits, then stands again. Pokes at his own ribs, winces, then grins wryly. "Expletive! think she cracked a rib or three. S'pose I deserved that."
Before Vasilis can become too impatient with his troublesome friend, he continues walking, shrugs off the offered shoulder with a subdued growl. "'M fine, 'm fine! Not a gods be invalid, 'Silis." Though he walks a bit more gingerly than his usual lumbering swagger. "Gods be expletive!, I'm not gonna be of any use t' Aidanna in this shape – assumin' she actually comes back from wherever she bloody ran off to – ye sure 'bout that soak, man?"
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8996
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
They made gave Sulien a wide birth, just in case she ended up changing her mind and lashing out just for the hell of it. She didn't, but Vasilis felt much better knowing his balls were well out of reach of her hands.
For now, anyway.
They were quiet for a while before Kregan finally spoke.
"Ye haven't thrashed me yet, `Silis, so'm guessin' she ain't yers, eh?" the other ex-merc prodded, and Vasilis couldn't even hide the momentary flash of fear and horror from his face.
"She's like my sister," he
muttered, probably too low for Kregan to hear anyway. `My _older_
sister who thrashes me when I do something that'll upset mum and da,'
his mind completes sourly, and not for the
first time, the Big Bad
Maizen somewhere deep inside him cringes and bristles at the mere
thought of it.
But it lasts only momentarily, and Vasilis softens almost as quickly. `But I'd die for her,' he is able to admit without hesitation. It is, perhaps, a promise that comes as easily as any he's ever made before in his life.
Vasilis sighs; he's feeling uncharacteristically affectionate tonight. Some brew, that fire brandy.
Kregan is babbling about some bath house, and Vasilis only grunts in response, letting the other man go when he requests and hanging back to give him some space. (There was no overestimating the importance of space in healing ones pride, or erm, prides, after all). When he complains about broken ribs, Vasilis can only grab his side and wonder if he, too, would be requiring a trip or two to the House of Healing.
"Ye sure `bout that soak, man?"
Vasilis sighs deeply, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he shifts his gaze here and there and everywhere but at the slightly swaggering man. "She asked that we go chill in a waiting cell for awhile, so we're already there, y'know?" Kregan peers at him a little suspiciously, and against his better senses, he feels a leer growing. He teetered towards with a cheesy grin, eyes nearly swallowed in his overzealous smile. "I'm not letting her do to _me_ what she did to _you_. You're a tough old goat, but a young swelling stud like me might die from that kind of abuse."
He couldn't stop the laughter at this point – it was all just so damn funny.
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8998
DraconicCat
Kregan blinks, and then bursts out in great guffaws of laughter, pains mostly forgotten, giving Vasilis a playful slug on his arm before slinging an arm around his shoulders. He companionably knocks foreheads with him, still laughing. They continue weaving down the street to their undesired destination.
"Thought I _was_ dyin' fer a bit there! Old goat! Hah!" He peers at the ex-Maizen thoughtfully for a moment. "So if'n yer a 'young stud', man, why ain'cha got a skirt or four on yer arms, eh? Gone th' dreaded way o'the priests, 'ave ye?" He doesn't notice the sudden darkening of Vasilis' expression, and gestures at another building they pass, this one decorated with busts of demure dancing girls covered in veils. "I know a couple skirts can fix that right up for ya... Or if'n the skirts don't catch yer fancy anymore, 'm sure they know a couple boys – OW! What the hell! Was jus' kiddin' ya! Expletive!! Yer so damned techy sometimes!" He rubs his stinging shoulder, glaring at Vasilis.
They walk in silence for a bit, each chewing on their own dark thoughts. The buildings they are passing start showing signs of a better neighborhood – cleaner, higher-quality carvings and decorations, a few buildings even have honest walled courtyards and gates, rather than opening directly onto the street, which is also cleaner, has smoother cobblestones, and a distinct lack of trash and refuse in the gutters.
Kregan breaks the silence between them again, this time with a melodramatic sigh, ruined by him hawking and spitting again.
"Truth, 'Silis, how in all-hells d'ye keep a skirt happy? 'Sides th' obvious, o'course!" He waggles his eyebrows, but only gives a half-hearted leer. He sighs again, frowns, scrubs at his short-cropped hair with both hands. "Aragh! I think I wrecked it but good, 'Silis! She went all witchy on me – set fire t' th' bed – 'n you know me, I di'n't have th' best o' reactions t'that! Well, then _she_ got madder 'n hell and took off! Expletive! She din't gimme a chance t'figger things out, jus' took off!"
He stands still in the street for a moment, staring at Vasilis, his expression a rare one of fear mixed with sorrow. "What if ... what if... she don't come back?"
*****
Re: A Little Bit of Gratuituos Violence - 8999
Melitza ( www . fanfiction . net/u/731072/ )
"What if ... what if... she don't come back?" he asked, and the fear and sorrow on his face was a lingering, hurtful echo of something deep and festering inside the Guard.
Vasilis halted, and for a moment, two women vied for top spot in his mind. One of them was blonde with a gentle smile and soft words, and the other was a brunette with bright eyes and rambunctious conviction.
In the end, he scoffed and dismissed both. What the hell did it matter, which won out in his thoughts? They were gone. Neither had come back. Neither ever would.
"Life goes on," Vasilis replied simply, and if the bland, empty words brought either comfort or pain to the other man, he didn't know and nor did he particularly care.
Lowering his head into his collar, Vasilis shook off the sudden mood and made a shuffling step forward –
And halted when he heard a shriek, a roar, and the sound of breaking glass.
"Oh sh*t," he hissed, eyes darting from Kregan, to the sound of the disturbance, and towards the prison again.
The decision was a surprisingly easy one to make.
"Come on, Kregan! Some do-gooder work might get us back in Suli's good graces!" he shouted, and grabbed the man by the collar on his way past.
Continued in It's A Little Hot In Here – Down the Rabbit Hole