Whiskey and cigarettes

p. Jhiral!

POSTED: Tue Feb 13, 2018 12:00 am


Vinny gave a slow exhale, a puff of smoke escaping through parted lips. A cigarette lofted about lazily between two fingers, a thin wisp of smoke trailing upwards from the pale ember that flickered on the butt of the rolled paper. The Blackrust savored the next inhale, feeling his shoulders relaxing at the tobacco’s comforting effect. It had been way too long since he had enjoyed a good smoke, and the dog hybrid missed the feeling of the nicotine wrap on his fingertips. So when he saw a loner trade some joints away at the bar in exchange for a drink, the Blackrust couldn’t resist keeping his sticky fingers to himself.

The tri colored male slouched against the wall as he savored his cigarette, eyes scanning lazily over the scant number of patrons that had made a temporary roost in Biff’s bar for the afternoon. Bright sunlight outside the establishment fooled one into expecting warm sun rays, only to be met with the frigid bite of mid winter temperatures. The thick sheets of snow encasing the ground were enough to keep the majority of pack members at bay, though nightfall would certainly draw a few out of their respective hovels. But during the daytime, the establishment mainly served as a place where those with no other place to call home could convene.

But that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be an occasional exception to the rule. Vinny’s lip curled in contempt as the familiar scents of the northern coyote pack flooded his nostrils, fighting for their place amongst the scent of tobacco product. And below that, while faint, there was the sickly sweet scent of rot. A battered looking fellow seated on a stool nearby seemed to be the culprit of the offending scent. The Blackrust had come to recognize the scent of this distant pack during the events that sent it’s members flooding the bar’s gates for a barman’s signature, of all things. But this fellow seemed aloof to such charades, for he had mainly kept to himself for the past hour or so that Vinny had been casually observing him.

What intrigued Vinny, however, were the bandages that covered almost every visible surface of the older man. Aside from some patches of sandy colored fur and two inquisitive yellow eyes, the stranger was completely swathed in white linens. As for what, Vinny could only guess that it had something to do with the underlying scent of rot that clung to his fur. Interest piqued, the stout Blackrust ambled over to claim an empty stool besides the Infernian, allowing his cigarette to dangle languidly from his lip.

”Ya know, I heard somewhere that those with scars have the most interesting stories to tell,” Vinny addressed the man, his muzzle twisting upwards in a twisted sneer as he continued ”If that’s the case, then I’m sure you could keep me entertained with a few.” Vinny had never been the most tactful of the Blackrust bunch, and this opening provided no exception from his typical blunt manner.

wc 506
Threads with Vinny will need marked MATURE due to foul language.

POSTED: Wed Jun 06, 2018 7:07 pm

(Once more, sincere apologies for the slow reply, will do better.)

A silent figure had taken one of the rickety stools at the quieter end of the old wooden bar, unbothered by today's cold draft that slithered in from outside, or the cool glances occasionally flicked his way by one current patron or another.

This would be the second time Jhiral had ventured far out of Inferni's territory, and not even that long after The Fire, all down to a fickle sense of wanderlust buried deep within, and now the tang of fire-water teasing what remained of his taste-buds, having to shift his facial-bandages to do such a thing was a minor thing, really.

The Stranger hadn't simply been deliberating over the small glass of weakened alcohol for the last hour, no, mostly staring into space and sometimes scrawling words on paper in both his native tongue and the trade language he had picked up, when, he couldn't quite remember. Even now many facets of the more common tongue still piqued his curiosity, even if it threatened to tease him for all the times he took matters literally or came to incorrect conclusions.

A Biele šaty
A Čierna krabica
A červený švih.
Pre moju malú dievčatko

Not for the first time those words crept up in the back of his mind, whether it was a poem in the native Slovak or something more personal, the foreign-borne couldn't recall, but it felt relevant somehow.

Every line put down on rough paper made his heart ache a little, as if it meant something – and yet he picked at what little he could remember upon waking up in some ill-loved, sea-side cottage... just a blur of echoes overlaying nothing but darkness and quickly forggotten dreams.

A Biele šaty
A Čierna krabica
A červený švih.
Pre moju malú...

...And suddenly, he had company, the dull thump of another patron right next to the foreigner, words coming across clearly, but it bothered Jhiral enough to make him twitch and squeeze his eyes tightly, ears lowering, writing-hand gripping the cloth-wrapped charcoal stick almost to he point of snapping it. He intentionally made that forced attempt at restraining himself from reacting more harshly, before the jacak-hybrid would release a hoarded breath, twist his head and look anew at the source of the noise, the greetings and question of sorts flitting around his mind lackadaisically.

Examining the man, he seemed... stout, uninspiring, a touch brutish, oh, and the thing in his mouth emitting both a wisp of near-hypnotic smoke... and a slight stench that made the Stranger wrinkle his covered muzzle, even though he was rather self-aware of the irony regarding unpleasant smells.

"Ss-shh-ck". Jhiral managed a wordless, guttural sigh, eyes narrowing in a not-unfriendly manner as he glanced at the man's hands, seeing nothing of threat, while his own seemingly lengthy hands were relaxing somewhat. For moments he simply stared, blinking once in a languid manner, before deciding he'd like a little more personal space while glancing upwards and emitting a discordant whistle.

Within seconds, the dark shape that had been happily roosting somewhere above landed on the bar-top with spread wings and a merry 'caw', right in front of this little man, gleefully bounced once and leaned towards the canine, mimicking a gag that came out worse than expected. Ahoj stink-mutt, fren' beh 'thinking. Whu-yuh?” She chirped, fully intending to do more than simply greet somebody, and seeing if they spooked easily was oddly amusing, mmmh... yes.

To his credit, Jhiral only hummed rather than scold his friend and translator, unfazed by all that nonsense, though he'd prefer not to become the centre of attention for now.
Casa di Cavalieri
Second Cadet (NPC)
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POSTED: Sun Jul 01, 2018 7:03 pm


”Say, whatch’ya writing there?” Vinny butted in, stealing a glance at the parchment the swathed stranger wrote on. The Blackrust had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the words written down were simply gibberish in his eyes. ”Say, what? I can’t even read this shit!” Vinny cackled, throwing his head back. Not once did the bouncer consider that maybe, just maybe, the reason he could not decipher the poem was due to his own lack of knowledge rather than the stranger’s poor writing skills. Not once.

”Yer a bit jumpy, eh?” Vinny noted as the coyote twitched at his presence, screwing his eyes shut. The Blackrust displayed little tact to the stranger’s evident discomfort, not making a move to change seats even as the man clutched the charcoal stick to the point of almost breaking. Instead, the tri colored male simply raised a finger. Moments later, a shot glass slid in front of the Blackrust. Although the bird man’s own glass dwarfed Vinny’s own, the contents sloshing about in the shot glass was much more potent. Vinny momentarily rested his cigarette between two fingers while simultaneously swilling the drink.

Vinny raised an eyebrow at the man’s guttural response - a sigh much too mumbled for the Blackrust to pick out any single word. ”Shit, man, can you even speak?” While Vinny’s words were harsh and rude, the man was only speaking out of curiosity. And, okay, maybe a bit of mean spiritedness. ”What the hell happened to you?”

”Ah! What the fuck?!” The empty shot glass went flying as Vinny flailed his arms, narrowly avoiding the feathered rat that now perched on the bar in front of him. The Blackrust took little notice to the ping! of broken glass on the floor behind him, and a startled yelp from a nearby patron.

Vinny’s eyes nearly boggled from his head as the crow began to speak. While her High Speech was rather garbled, it was certainly easier to decipher than her master’s. ”Wait, who you calling stink mutt?” Vinny retorted, a brief flare of anger welling up inside of him. Never mind the fact that he was getting his panties in a twist over a dumb bird. My name is Vinny, thankyouverymuch.” The Blackrust gave a harrumph, lifting his nose in the air.

wc 385
Threads with Vinny will need marked MATURE due to foul language.

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