Post by Jaezred Vandree on May 16, 2024 7:57:32 GMT
(Previously on this drama…)
Matches erupts in triumphant cheer as he wins another hand at the poker table. His shirt is open halfway down his chest, revealing his black, tinted deep red scales. With a cigar in one hand, he makes his way to the bar to order a drink in celebration.
But when he gets there, he finds his drink of choice already made for him, sitting pretty on a coaster.
“You played a fine game,” a deep voice purrs from the other end of the bar. Jaezred smiles and raises the glass in his hand to Matches.
Matches lifts his drink off the bar, looking it over in his hand. He looks over at Jaezred, and takes a sip whilst maintaining eye contact, testing. He swallows and smiles, appreciating the flavour and quality of the drink before raising it back towards Jaezred in approval.
“I am simply a feller who knows when to take a chance.”
“Isn’t that what we all are at the end of the day?” Jaezred approaches to stand beside him, leaning forward on the bar. “It takes a little more than that to triumph over your fellow man. Guile, wits, a deft and cunning hand…” He peers down at the scales on Matches’s chest. “…Or the blessing of a red dragon.”
Matches tilts his head to the side and looks Jaezred over. “Maybe you’re right, I should give myself a little more praise. Though a dragon never taught me how to play a good game of cards.”
“Did a dragon teach you to look this good?” Jaezred asks, idly feeling the fabric of Matches' shirt with pinched fingers.
“I don’t think that can be taught, you’ve got it or you don’t.” Matches traces his eyes along Jaezred’s fingers on his shirt, up his arm and to his face. “Surely you understand what that’s like?”
“Naturally.” With a grin, the drow offers a handshake. “Lord Jaezred Vandree.”
Matches’s eyebrows shoot up a little, but other than that, he maintains his facial expression. “Hm. Well, you can call me Matches, my lord.”
Jaezred tilts his head to one side. “Matches. Have you heard my name before, Matches?”
The human exhales a little annoyed, then continues, “Your name is in the mouth of a powerful Archwyrm. An Archwyrm heralded by one Henri Fitzroy.”
Jaezred goes quiet for a second. “Er… Why would an Archwyrm possibly mention me?”
Matches leans on his hand and sips his drink, looking at Jaezred’s hesitance with an inquisitive look. “Because of your relationship with Henri. You see, this Archwyrm can see glimpses of the future. And apparently, there are plenty of futures for Henri that feature you.”
Jaezred is still for another moment, and the slow, ambient music of the Gilded Mirror’s in-house band fills in the silence at the bar. He inhales deeply, looking a bit lost, as though he doesn’t know what to do with this new information. He picks up his glass again and begins swirling it, needing something to occupy his hand. “I, er… I don’t— Henri and I, we’re no longer— We had a… a disagreement. We have not seen each other in a month’s time. I…”
He sighs and sets his glass back down. “Look, Matches, I came here to have a good time and maybe — Luckmaiden willing — bed a handsome young gent.”
Matches looks at Jaezred, his eyes hungry, scanning over the beautiful man before him. He groans and holds his head in one hand.
“I am getting a little sick of these dragons getting in the way of what I want to do.” He downs the rest of his drink and sighs. “Unfortunately, I’m trying to practise being a good cousin. And this is messy. Don’t get me wrong, if you were no one to my family, I would’ve let you ruin me. But when an Archwyrm with future sight can see that you and Henri still have something going on, I’m not going to be a little rebound for you. It’ll make Sunday lunch ever so awkward.”
Jaezred sighs again, sounding more defeated this time. “I understand. But I must protest your choice of word there — you were not meant to be a rebound. Well, at least, not in the amorous sense. We were never exclusive, Henri and I; I have a partner at home! I’m…not sure if we were ever anything more than bedfellows, to be honest. It’s not like we ever went out on dates…or talked about our personal lives… or…”
“Pardon my interruption.” Henri had been absent from behind the bar, diligently seeing to other patrons of the Gilded Mirror, but steps in quietly now with a cloth draped over his shoulder, steadfastly refusing to look at Jaezred. “Matches, is this man bothering you?” A muscle flexes in his jaw as he clenches, the irritation clear on his face. “I can ask him to leave.”
Jaezred turns around at the all-too-familiar sound of Henri’s voice, eyebrows raised high in surprise. Then he frowns. “No need. I’m already on my way. Matches, it was very good to meet you. And if there’s anything we learnt from this encounter, it’s that you won’t be able to beat me at poker.” Smiling, he sips his drink and throws a friendly wink at Matches from behind the glass
Matches looks at the sudden arrival of Henri with some surprise, then to Jaezred again. “Good thing we won’t be playing together any time soon then, Lord Vandree.” He gives a lazy smile in response.
“Well, I’m off to the fiore.” Jaezred sets down his empty glass on the bar. “Put his and mine on my tab, please, Henri.”
The glass floats up and out of sight, and Henri wipes the spot where it had lain with his bar cloth. "Of course, sir. Please do have a pleasant evening."
Lord Jaezred adjusts his frock coat and walks out of the Mirror without another word.
Matches turns back to look at Henri. “So, that’s Jaezred Vandree then. Quite the company you’ve kept, Baker’s.” Matches raises an eyebrow, gauging for a reaction before poking too hard.
Henri meets Matches’s eye before closing his own tightly, taking a deep breath before letting it all go at once. “Yes. Kept. Though I don’t think he wants anything to do with me now. Nor I him.” He resumes wiping the bar, scrubbing vigorously at a particularly old port stain. “Don’t let me get between you.”
Matches looks Henri over and grimaces a little, before clearing his throat. “Not at all. I, uh… like them a little bigger than him. Not really my type.”
“Oh. I see.” Henri stops, eyeing Matches with a newfound interest, as though learning a piece of particularly juicy gossip. “Well then, forget I said anything. Can I get you another?” he asks, gesturing to Matches’s mug.
The moment Jaezred sits himself down at Leona Autumn’s bar, the calm, put-together façade is dropped like an iron weight as he runs his hands through his silk-smooth hair and lets out a heavy sigh.
A familiar drink shimmering with moonlight appears on the counter in front of him. “It’s been a while since you've come to mine looking so… undone.”
He looks up and smiles at the patron saint of cocktails and confidantes. “A messy case of ex-bedfellows… Thank you,” he says as picks up the glass and takes a big gulp from it.
“Ex-bedfellows… Haven’t had many of those,” Leona admits with a nod. “But enough to know certain things need to be said if only for one’s own peace of mind.”
“I could do with a little peace of mind right now.”
Over a few cocktails, he catches her up with the story of two warlocks, as handsome as they are posh, who shared several passionate nights together — a mutually beneficial arrangement of information and sex that lasted until the morning sun. He veils names and details where appropriate, still cautious of eavesdroppers with less-than-pure motives.
“So a dragon that can see the future says there are many futures in which we are together. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with that? He doesn’t even want to speak to me anymore,” Jaezred moans.
“And that bothers you that Enrique does not speak to you now after your… fight,” Leona half-asks, half-states.
“I…I don’t know. Maybe?” he groans and leans back in his chair. “‘You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.’ That’s what my lady said. And I have to agree. If he’s so set on becoming a plank in the Expansive Stairwell, then there’s nothing I can do.”
“Hmm,” she intones, thinking as she absently prepares another drink. “Perhaps… And this might come across mean— But, perhaps you are taking too much onto yourself. Perhaps, instead of trying to fix things yourself, if that is what you want to do, you encourage others to do the same. You mentioned speaking to another man who said he knew about your relationship with Enrique. Could you… elicit their help?” Every now and then her gaze flicks up to him, trying to gauge if her suggestion is something helpful or not.
Jaezred swirls the moonlit drink in his hand as he considers it. “So I just… tell this man, Candles, what I heard from Enrique a month ago?”
“It could help,” Leona says, with a half-shrug. “Enrique sounds like quite the proud man. Can't see the forest for the trees type, if you know what I mean. It may take more than one of you to get through to him.”
She picks up the mixer, shaking it vigorously for a minute, then strains the contents into a glass in the shape of a tulip. “Of course, only do this if you want to. If you would rather cut ties completely, now is the time.” Leona shakes the mixer once, twice, thrice, getting every last drop. The moment the last bit joins the rest, the whole drink lights up with a warm glow. She smiles, satisfied with her work. “But you can be as tenacious as you are wilful. So—” She gently pushes the drink towards him. “—which will it be?”
The drow lord gazes into the tulip-shaped drink for a long moment of silence.
“To be honest with you, my dear Leona,” he says, slurring his words slightly, “I’m not yet sure how I feel about a future with him. Certainly, any future with me must include Lady Imryll. But… admittedly, I miss him. Or I miss sleeping with him, at the very least. I don’t wish to see him turned into a plank.”
Leona places a hand on his. “Then isn’t that answer enough, Jaezred?” she asks softly.
Jaezred chuckles and gives her hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing a drink and a chat with you can't solve, is there?”
“That’s what I am here for,” she says, smiling.
He takes a sip from the tulip glass. The taste of soothing honey rolls over his palate, almost like mead, but there’s a floral quality that makes him think of light on a meadow of flowers… And the feeling that his drunkenness has been lessened, like the effects of a lesser restoration spell. A little brightness returns to his crimson eyes.
“You are the treasure of Daring Heights,” he says, smiling back warmly.
Leona blushes, delighted at the praise but just a little embarrassed for how he always knows how to make his compliments land just so.
CO-STARRING:
Harry as Matches
Henri Fitzroy
Riah as Leona Autumn
Matches erupts in triumphant cheer as he wins another hand at the poker table. His shirt is open halfway down his chest, revealing his black, tinted deep red scales. With a cigar in one hand, he makes his way to the bar to order a drink in celebration.
But when he gets there, he finds his drink of choice already made for him, sitting pretty on a coaster.
“You played a fine game,” a deep voice purrs from the other end of the bar. Jaezred smiles and raises the glass in his hand to Matches.
Matches lifts his drink off the bar, looking it over in his hand. He looks over at Jaezred, and takes a sip whilst maintaining eye contact, testing. He swallows and smiles, appreciating the flavour and quality of the drink before raising it back towards Jaezred in approval.
“I am simply a feller who knows when to take a chance.”
“Isn’t that what we all are at the end of the day?” Jaezred approaches to stand beside him, leaning forward on the bar. “It takes a little more than that to triumph over your fellow man. Guile, wits, a deft and cunning hand…” He peers down at the scales on Matches’s chest. “…Or the blessing of a red dragon.”
Matches tilts his head to the side and looks Jaezred over. “Maybe you’re right, I should give myself a little more praise. Though a dragon never taught me how to play a good game of cards.”
“Did a dragon teach you to look this good?” Jaezred asks, idly feeling the fabric of Matches' shirt with pinched fingers.
“I don’t think that can be taught, you’ve got it or you don’t.” Matches traces his eyes along Jaezred’s fingers on his shirt, up his arm and to his face. “Surely you understand what that’s like?”
“Naturally.” With a grin, the drow offers a handshake. “Lord Jaezred Vandree.”
Matches’s eyebrows shoot up a little, but other than that, he maintains his facial expression. “Hm. Well, you can call me Matches, my lord.”
Jaezred tilts his head to one side. “Matches. Have you heard my name before, Matches?”
The human exhales a little annoyed, then continues, “Your name is in the mouth of a powerful Archwyrm. An Archwyrm heralded by one Henri Fitzroy.”
Jaezred goes quiet for a second. “Er… Why would an Archwyrm possibly mention me?”
Matches leans on his hand and sips his drink, looking at Jaezred’s hesitance with an inquisitive look. “Because of your relationship with Henri. You see, this Archwyrm can see glimpses of the future. And apparently, there are plenty of futures for Henri that feature you.”
Jaezred is still for another moment, and the slow, ambient music of the Gilded Mirror’s in-house band fills in the silence at the bar. He inhales deeply, looking a bit lost, as though he doesn’t know what to do with this new information. He picks up his glass again and begins swirling it, needing something to occupy his hand. “I, er… I don’t— Henri and I, we’re no longer— We had a… a disagreement. We have not seen each other in a month’s time. I…”
He sighs and sets his glass back down. “Look, Matches, I came here to have a good time and maybe — Luckmaiden willing — bed a handsome young gent.”
Matches looks at Jaezred, his eyes hungry, scanning over the beautiful man before him. He groans and holds his head in one hand.
“I am getting a little sick of these dragons getting in the way of what I want to do.” He downs the rest of his drink and sighs. “Unfortunately, I’m trying to practise being a good cousin. And this is messy. Don’t get me wrong, if you were no one to my family, I would’ve let you ruin me. But when an Archwyrm with future sight can see that you and Henri still have something going on, I’m not going to be a little rebound for you. It’ll make Sunday lunch ever so awkward.”
Jaezred sighs again, sounding more defeated this time. “I understand. But I must protest your choice of word there — you were not meant to be a rebound. Well, at least, not in the amorous sense. We were never exclusive, Henri and I; I have a partner at home! I’m…not sure if we were ever anything more than bedfellows, to be honest. It’s not like we ever went out on dates…or talked about our personal lives… or…”
“Pardon my interruption.” Henri had been absent from behind the bar, diligently seeing to other patrons of the Gilded Mirror, but steps in quietly now with a cloth draped over his shoulder, steadfastly refusing to look at Jaezred. “Matches, is this man bothering you?” A muscle flexes in his jaw as he clenches, the irritation clear on his face. “I can ask him to leave.”
Jaezred turns around at the all-too-familiar sound of Henri’s voice, eyebrows raised high in surprise. Then he frowns. “No need. I’m already on my way. Matches, it was very good to meet you. And if there’s anything we learnt from this encounter, it’s that you won’t be able to beat me at poker.” Smiling, he sips his drink and throws a friendly wink at Matches from behind the glass
Matches looks at the sudden arrival of Henri with some surprise, then to Jaezred again. “Good thing we won’t be playing together any time soon then, Lord Vandree.” He gives a lazy smile in response.
“Well, I’m off to the fiore.” Jaezred sets down his empty glass on the bar. “Put his and mine on my tab, please, Henri.”
The glass floats up and out of sight, and Henri wipes the spot where it had lain with his bar cloth. "Of course, sir. Please do have a pleasant evening."
Lord Jaezred adjusts his frock coat and walks out of the Mirror without another word.
Matches turns back to look at Henri. “So, that’s Jaezred Vandree then. Quite the company you’ve kept, Baker’s.” Matches raises an eyebrow, gauging for a reaction before poking too hard.
Henri meets Matches’s eye before closing his own tightly, taking a deep breath before letting it all go at once. “Yes. Kept. Though I don’t think he wants anything to do with me now. Nor I him.” He resumes wiping the bar, scrubbing vigorously at a particularly old port stain. “Don’t let me get between you.”
Matches looks Henri over and grimaces a little, before clearing his throat. “Not at all. I, uh… like them a little bigger than him. Not really my type.”
“Oh. I see.” Henri stops, eyeing Matches with a newfound interest, as though learning a piece of particularly juicy gossip. “Well then, forget I said anything. Can I get you another?” he asks, gesturing to Matches’s mug.
The moment Jaezred sits himself down at Leona Autumn’s bar, the calm, put-together façade is dropped like an iron weight as he runs his hands through his silk-smooth hair and lets out a heavy sigh.
A familiar drink shimmering with moonlight appears on the counter in front of him. “It’s been a while since you've come to mine looking so… undone.”
He looks up and smiles at the patron saint of cocktails and confidantes. “A messy case of ex-bedfellows… Thank you,” he says as picks up the glass and takes a big gulp from it.
“Ex-bedfellows… Haven’t had many of those,” Leona admits with a nod. “But enough to know certain things need to be said if only for one’s own peace of mind.”
“I could do with a little peace of mind right now.”
Over a few cocktails, he catches her up with the story of two warlocks, as handsome as they are posh, who shared several passionate nights together — a mutually beneficial arrangement of information and sex that lasted until the morning sun. He veils names and details where appropriate, still cautious of eavesdroppers with less-than-pure motives.
“So a dragon that can see the future says there are many futures in which we are together. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with that? He doesn’t even want to speak to me anymore,” Jaezred moans.
“And that bothers you that Enrique does not speak to you now after your… fight,” Leona half-asks, half-states.
“I…I don’t know. Maybe?” he groans and leans back in his chair. “‘You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.’ That’s what my lady said. And I have to agree. If he’s so set on becoming a plank in the Expansive Stairwell, then there’s nothing I can do.”
“Hmm,” she intones, thinking as she absently prepares another drink. “Perhaps… And this might come across mean— But, perhaps you are taking too much onto yourself. Perhaps, instead of trying to fix things yourself, if that is what you want to do, you encourage others to do the same. You mentioned speaking to another man who said he knew about your relationship with Enrique. Could you… elicit their help?” Every now and then her gaze flicks up to him, trying to gauge if her suggestion is something helpful or not.
Jaezred swirls the moonlit drink in his hand as he considers it. “So I just… tell this man, Candles, what I heard from Enrique a month ago?”
“It could help,” Leona says, with a half-shrug. “Enrique sounds like quite the proud man. Can't see the forest for the trees type, if you know what I mean. It may take more than one of you to get through to him.”
She picks up the mixer, shaking it vigorously for a minute, then strains the contents into a glass in the shape of a tulip. “Of course, only do this if you want to. If you would rather cut ties completely, now is the time.” Leona shakes the mixer once, twice, thrice, getting every last drop. The moment the last bit joins the rest, the whole drink lights up with a warm glow. She smiles, satisfied with her work. “But you can be as tenacious as you are wilful. So—” She gently pushes the drink towards him. “—which will it be?”
The drow lord gazes into the tulip-shaped drink for a long moment of silence.
“To be honest with you, my dear Leona,” he says, slurring his words slightly, “I’m not yet sure how I feel about a future with him. Certainly, any future with me must include Lady Imryll. But… admittedly, I miss him. Or I miss sleeping with him, at the very least. I don’t wish to see him turned into a plank.”
Leona places a hand on his. “Then isn’t that answer enough, Jaezred?” she asks softly.
Jaezred chuckles and gives her hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing a drink and a chat with you can't solve, is there?”
“That’s what I am here for,” she says, smiling.
He takes a sip from the tulip glass. The taste of soothing honey rolls over his palate, almost like mead, but there’s a floral quality that makes him think of light on a meadow of flowers… And the feeling that his drunkenness has been lessened, like the effects of a lesser restoration spell. A little brightness returns to his crimson eyes.
“You are the treasure of Daring Heights,” he says, smiling back warmly.
Leona blushes, delighted at the praise but just a little embarrassed for how he always knows how to make his compliments land just so.
CO-STARRING:
Harry as Matches
Henri Fitzroy
Riah as Leona Autumn