<Sadurean> Another long day of boredom.. and frustration. It had started as a rather simple thing. All that Durean wanted to do was practice a song on his lute. He's been managing with his arm in the cast, but he couldn't get the piece played correctly with the plaster around his hand and arm. The only solution was to -remove- the cast. It's been two months, plenty long enough! Well, getting a cast off isn't so simple with only one hand and
<Sadurean> with only one hand and limited tools. He searched the house thoroughly, trying to find some small saw or blade.. and finally settled on a serated knife. He's been sitting at a table ever since, making incredibly slow progress for fear of stabbing himself as he tries to cut through the thick protective material.
<Calanthar> Oh Sadurean, you incredibly stupid, stupid boy... While he's hacking away at the cast, the house's owner is all but dashing up the walk, just barely keeping himself calm. Would Sadurean have seen that ominous flash in the sky? Would he have gone running to check it out? The boy can be an idiot sometimes. Half-tossing the door open, Calanthar will quickly move in, slamming the door shut. "Sadurean? Are you here?" I'll *kill* you if you'r
<Calanthar> here?" I'll *kill* you if you're not...
<Sadurean> Flash in the sky? Hell no.. he's too busy trying to put himself back into the infirmary. He's not hacking so much as sawing, and it's proving very difficult. Of course, using one of Devregon's steak knives as a saw isn't the best choice either. "Yeah!" He calls from .. the kitchen? Must be. There's a mess of fuzz and dust all over the table, and he's only made it through perhaps, an inch or two of the cast that's encasing his
<Sadurean> that's encasing his entire forearm. "Where else would I be?" He asks in a quieter tone of no one in particular, concentrating on sawing the knife back and forth slowly.
<Calanthar> "Well, if you... What in the *hell* are you doing?!" It's not anger so much as shock that fills the man's voice when he sees the boy cutting at his arm like that, and getting a mess *everywhere*. He even drops the sabre that he'd been removing from his belt. If Sadurean's paying him much mind, he might notice that Calanthar's a bit out of breath, and there arebeads of perspiration on his forehead - likely from where he ran half the way home before
<Calanthar> from where he ran half the way home before he could catch himself.
<Sadurean> "I'm trying to get it -off-.." Isn't it obvious? The bard sighs and tosses the knife down onto the table. The utensil has seen better days. "That isn't working, I need something else." He looks up at the man, looking him over curiously. "Are you okay?" Durean's hair is tied back into a sloppy tail, and he's wearing a rather old, tired shirt. The kind of garment he wouldn't be caught dead wearing in public.
<Sadurean> public.
<Calanthar> "You... Those are supposed to stay on until the doctor removes them!" A monkey! He's like a damn monkey! Sighing, Calanthar will pick up the knife and replace it, trying to prepare himself for the... Reaction to the news. "I think you've *really* gone and pissed Jayda Stone off this time. Did you not see the massive flash of light this morning?" How exactly do you lead in to 'Oh, your house was razed by a crazy Ourani bitch a few hours ag
<Calanthar> a crazy Ourani bitch a few hours ago'?
* Sadurean watches him take the knife, which has rather significant damage to the serated edge now. He looks down at the cast, wrapping his fingers around the edge and trying to pry it with little success. "She's still alive?.. " He frowns, punching at the plaster now. "What flash of light?" There's a nagging doubt in his mind, the sort that says he should be paying closer attention to the man. He looks up at Calanthar, the sig
<Sadurean> at Calanthar, the signs of worry beginning to creep onto his face.
<Calanthar> "Don't pick at that any further." He'll move to sit down, hand running across his bearded chin in thought for a moment before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Sometime before noon, there was a flash of light - I saw it from my window. The soldiers outside talked about a strangely shaped cloud and a pillar of fire coming from the better section of town... I'll be honest with you, boy - Jayda seems *pissed*. By the time I got there, the
<Calanthar> *pissed*. By the time I got there, there was nothing left of your fath- of your estate. Maybe some rubble, but it looks like it was torn apart by the blast."
<Sadurean> "It itches."One of many complaints. He's never going to get the cast off if he lets it alone. Luckily, Calanthar has completely distracted him from the most recent object of his frustration. His fidgeting stops as the captain lays out the news, blue eyes staring at the old man. His home? Rubble? The first thing that comes to mind is the rubble of Ama'til, houses reduced to piles of stone and charred wood. He shoves abruptly to his
<Sadurean> shoves abruptly to his feet, needing to see the destruction to believe it. "No.." It's a pointless denial, they all know Jayda needed little provocation for such a step. He hurries for the front of the house, planning to dig his boots out of the closet.
* Calanthar will rise slowly, letting Sadurean run about and trying to remain calm. "Get back here, boy. You can't go rushing out there - it's too dangerous. She wants you to come looking, she wants you to see it, because she wants to lure you out, and what better way to do it? Sit back down and think about this." Does no one under the age of 30 think things through anymore? Young soldiers alledgedly letting people kill each other, wanted teens adver
<Calanthar> people kill each other, wanted teens advertising their presence to the world... Good lord. Next thing you know, Kynian Osonea's going to declare war on Chairman Josso.
* Sadurean stops, boots in hand. He thinks Calanthar's words over for a moment, then drops the boots and heads for the stairs, rushing up them two at a time. She's luring him out, and he'll be ready. He hurries into his room, grabbing the nearest thick shirt and pulling it over his head. Then the boy digs through some of his belongings and pulls out the flint-lock pistol, kneeling down to carefully set about the task of loading it.
<Sadurean> task of loading it.
<Calanthar> "That's not what I meant! I meant don't go at all!" Monkey! "You have to be calm, Sadurean... Otherwise you're playing right into her hands. What good is that pistol going to do you if she descends on you with soldiers? She'll be looking for that gun this time - you likely won't get a second chance." If he can, the old man will move to take away some of the supplies from his one-armed house guest, keeping him from loading the blasted thing
<Calanthar> keeping him from loading the blasted thing.
* Sadurean is carefully laying out the tools to load the weapon, his thoughts racing in his head. He barely hears Calanthar but when the man snatches away the pouch with the black powder he looks up sharply. "Give it back!" He demands, making a grab for the bag. "I have to see!" If it's true (and he has no reason to think otherwise) it means he'll have nothing.. His home, everything he owns, everything his father had.. All of i
<Sadurean> father had.. All of it. He can stop and be calm and think about all of that, or he can get angry and try to end this once and for all. It's been a cat and mouse game, and he's very tired of being the mouse.
* Calanthar will stuff the bag into a pocket, backing off a few steps and scowling. "Hell no. You shouldn't be so damned eager to get yourself killed - if *you* won't look out for your hide, I'll just have to do it." Try and remember Miesha's advice - don't yell. Of course, the swearing and semi-insults probably aren't helping, but it's a slow process. If Sadurean had been a soldier, he would have just smacked him, yelled at him, and sent him on his
<Calanthar> him, yelled at him, and sent him on his way. "I know it's horrible, but dammit boy, compose yourself."
* Sadurean never was soldier material. He holds the pistol, glaring at the captain as he stands. "You don't know! How can you possibly know?! She's never going to stop! I could have killed her months ago, and you told me not to fight her and now everything I had is gone!" Calanthar isn't yelling, but he will. He has to blame someone. The rage needs somewhere to go.
* Ian has left #Sinari_Wilderness
<Calanthar> "Boy, you tried to kill her a few *weeks* ago, with a *gun*. Didn't work. If you had tried the same a few months ago, the only difference would have been that she *would* have taken everything. Think about what you still have - you have a bakery, you have a wife. Would she have let Evette live if you had tried to kill her months ago?" For someone who never was much of a father, he's certainly being remarkably patient... Well... He hasn't started
<Calanthar> patient... Well... He hasn't started yelling to match Sadurean, anyhow. "Yes, your possessions are gone. Some of the most important things - namely your life and Evette, are *not*."
* Sadurean stands helplessly in the face of logic that he can't deny. Calanthar isn't feeding into accusations, and proving to not be the target the boy is trying blame is troubles upon. He clenches his hand tightly on the wood of the pistol, the glare still on his face but directed elsewhere as he breathes heavily, struggling to find a solution that lets him do what he wants.
<Calanthar> Ohhh, it's like the gods themselves are reaching down to give Calanthar a pat on the back - he finally ended an argument without Sadurean throwing any sort of a temper tantrum. "Come on boy - I'll get you a drink." Okay, so maybe not the *best* role model, but as long as it keeps Sadurean from running screaming down the street after a woman who could kill him with one hand, it works. "We'll see if we can't get that cast off."
<Calanthar> can't get that cast off."
* Sadurean wants nothing more than to go and see the evidence for himself, but Calanthar seems bent on stopping him from doing that. He sets the pistol down on the bed slowly, hesitating before pulling his hand away. Then the bard will follow the man, speaking in a soft, vengeful tone. "Some day someone -is- going to kill her. I hope it's a slow, painful death."
<Calanthar> "You, me, and I'm certain several others. You're probably going to need a saw or something to get that cast all the way off, you know... Unless you're hellbent on destroying all of my knives." He'll move into the kitchen again, taking down two glasses and a bottle of brandy and measuring some out. Not much, but then Sadurean's going to be hacking at his arm in a short while, and he's made enough of a mess without getting blood and severed limbs al
<Calanthar> without getting blood and severed limbs all over the place.
* Sadurean stops at a window on the way, looking out as if he could see the damage. Of course he can't. "I couldn't find a saw." He would have just gone to the infirmary, but that's a busy place in a very active area of town. If he's sticking to the plan of hiding out, going where he's sure to be recognized probably isn't the best idea. He takes the brandy, sipping it slowly. The news is still sinking in, and likely will be for som
<Sadurean> likely will be for some time. He grew up in that house, and the only other home he knew was that ratty little place him and Evi stayed in. All if his and Kaden's music was there, years of work. It will hurt for a long time.
<Calanthar> "Then I suppose you'll just have to settle for using my knives, and I'll have to buy more utensils..." Glass in hand, Calanthar will go to a drawer and pull out the varying tools, murmuring to himself about the cost of guests and children. "Just don't cut your arm off. I don't need to go running again tonight - I'm too old for that and my lungs are half gone anyhow." He's not very good at lightening the mood, but the quiet, half-hearted littl
<Calanthar> mood, but the quiet, half-hearted little laugh should signify it as a joke.
* Sadurean knows that the man is being incredibly nice, and giving far more than he has any reason to. The bard is too proud to acknowledge as much. He'll sit down again, picking at the cast. It proves a distraction for a little while, but as his mind has time to soak in everything that's been lost his vision eventually becomes to blurred from barely held back tears and he's forced to stop. Otherwise there may well be blood mixed with
<Sadurean> be blood mixed with the dust. Admitting defeat is a difficult thing for one whose life is so wrapped in pride and self-image.
<Calanthar> "I... Well, I'll be in my study if you need anything, boy." Sadurean's pride hasn't been overlooked by his host, and he's not about to try and take that from him - not now. With a nod of the head, he'll move towards the door, willing to give Sadurean his privacy. He's not about to go running after Jayda right now, especially with the black powder for his gun safely in Calanthar's pocket. "Help yourself to more brandy if you like."
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