Exquisite Corpses [Draven]

[Tamsin]

He stood out like a sore thumb.

The streets – the dirty, dark and crooked streets – were where the gentleman currently held residence. If you could call it a ‘residence’. The inn he was staying in was practically a ruin, and the stench of mould and damp in the bedroom had been overpowering. The medic had felt rather nauseated and thus had spent the night, instead, in the corridor.
That had been last night. Now he was pacing down the muddy roads of Carden with a look on his face that made him look like he was sucking a particularly sour lemon. The place was filthy, a nest for criminals, disease and prostitutes. Roger, a man of etiquette and an un-collared witch, had no place here. The looks he got were killer – hisses of resentment from the people he passed by, mutters of insults, pebbles thrown at his ankles. The bitter look remained. Goodness, what imbeciles. No wonder they had decided to live here, of all places.

He moved with one hand in the pocket of his pinstriped trousers, and the other at his side, clasped about a bronze fobwatch which he glanced at every interval or so. It was this watch which had brought him here – because it did what any other watch did, and told the time. He had been booked at an appointment here – most likely some disgusting sexually transmitted disease, judging by the reputations of people here. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but luckily for him, it was a good few hours away. But how to burn the time? Wandering around this disgusting place was no more entertaining, and really rather mundane. He half hoped for a scene, even a fight, to break out. Anything to put something in his annoyingly blank mind. The man liked to be thinking. It made him feel useful.
And alas!
Something did indeed happen, but far from it entertaining the gentleman, it simply irked him.

From the palm of his hand, right from under his nose, the watch was snatched. With grubby hands and a grinning face full of rotten teeth, the fobwatch went away, the thief cackling as she began to sprint in the opposite direction. Roger, for a few moments, was in too much shock to go after her, then, he leapt into action, giving chase as fast as his injured leg would allow. He should have known, before starting the chase, that it would end badly. He didn’t run. He couldn’t. But it wasn’t his leg that made him lose her; instead it was a small brick which had become upturned from the cobbled, dingy pavement.

He fell forward, only just catching himself, inches away from going face-first into the mud. His knees and chest, however, were splattered, caked almost, in the foul stuff, and Roger’s face showed his distaste. Natives of the city chortled their amusement, some pausing to watch the newcomer in his moment of embarrassment - particularly the collared witches: some simply sneered, others jeered. Unimpressed, the gentleman got unsteadily to his feet, looking down at himself. Good LORD, what a mess. He almost seemed to fit in, now. Hissing through his teeth, he made his way over to the nearest bench, sitting down on it roughly and crossing one leg over the other.

He drew his cigarette case out of his belt, rolling one with expert fingers and setting it alight. After drawing it to his lips and inhaling it quickly, the physician glanced about the place with cold eyes. It was evident, now, that Roger was in a bad mood. He was tense, his expression stony, the fingers of his free hand drumming on his knee with impatient annoyance. He wanted, more than anything, to get back to his warm quarters in Caedere, where his name brought about some degree of respect, at least.

Here, he was a stranger.

---

OOC: If anyone else wants to join, that's fine with me.

[Draven]

While the dapper man in Carden for business had had a rough night, Draven had slept quite peacefully. He had long since gotten used to the lumps in his bed, the smell of the rotting wood. In fact, he took comfort in these familiar things even if they did signify the poor living conditions of this place. A bed was simply a bed after all, and one really only spent eight hours a day (if that) laying on it. So long as you knew the proper sleeping technique it was quite simple to wake up with your back feeling no worse for wear. Oddly enough, the technique for Draven was to contort his small body in odd ways, curling around the numerous lumps. It hardly seemed comfortable, looking at him, but the young man was quite content bent up like a pretzel. However, it was time to wake up now. Delicate hands reached out towards the head of the bed, little feet towards the foot, and the witch let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a moan and a squeak. His body relaxed as he let out a sigh and opened the only good eye he had left. “Ahhhh…good morning, Quill.” His ferret let out a little coo as she slinked over to his left ear. She stuck her pink nose in it, as was her customary greeting, making her master laugh. “Must you use such a tickly greeting, darling? Gracious.” He sat up, stretching his arms yet again as feet searched for his slippers. “Well, it is a new day, Quill, and another day without Mordy. Let us hope I will have better balance than I did yesterday.”

After taking about half an hour to dress himself and have breakfast, Draven stepped outside, once again tying one end of his roll of twine to the doorknob. Once he was certain it was secure he began to stroll along, humming quietly as Quill settled herself around his neck. He was aware of the slightest change in the atmosphere ad he neared a more populated area. Someone different was present, someone much better off than most people in Carden. Draven could hear insults being muttered at someone, though who that someone was he had not seen yet.

There was a sudden burst of energy, however, when a girl a few years younger than himself darted past him. Though he hadn’t gotten a good look at what she was holding, that split-second glance had him guessing it was valuable. A man, possibly the trinket’s owner, pursued her but rather quickly caught his foot on a loose brick. Momentum took over and the man stopped himself mere milliseconds before his face would have ended up in mud. As the crowd laughed at the formerly dapper man, Draven continued the chase where the stranger had left off.

Luckily, the girl had left behind footprints as she fled. Draven ran along the path, his eye focused on what was ahead of him. He could just see her now, though the distance between them was pretty wide. She paused, unaware that she was still being followed, allowing Draven to finally catch up and place his hands on her shoulders. He kept his grip firm but gentle as he turned her around, a look of concern on his face. "Stealing from a man of class is not the wisest thing, dear. You could get into quite a lot of trouble.”

“He doesn’t need it! I bet he’s real rich, I bet he’s got hundreds of these! I don’t have hardly anything, definitely not enough for a decent meal!”

“Ah, so you are intending to sell it then?”

“Yeah, I gotta get money somehow!”

Draven let out a sigh. This was quite a fix indeed. While stealing was most definitely in the list of things that were wrong, this girl was definitely hungry. She had hardly any meat on her, the poor dear. He smiled and patted her shoulder. “Might I buy it from you, then? I have…” While one hand stayed on the girl, he freed one up to dig around in one of his many pockets. “Ah!” Draven pulled out a gold coin and three silver ones. “I know it is not much for such a fine timepiece, but I would be glad to get you dinner tonight as well if you meet me at my house.”

“Where is your house? How am I supposed to find it?”

“Believe me, I would have the same issue were it not for this spool of thread.” He tugged it a bit, chuckling. “You just follow this, and my house is the one with string on the door handle. I trust you have a good memory and will be able to find your way back to that same place at, say, half past five?”

“Yeah! Never forget where a place is once I've seen it.”

“Splendid! Now may I have that watch?”

“Deal.”

He handed over the coins and she handed over the watch, a small smile on her face. No doubt she had been expecting a beating or something worse. She was lucky it had been Draven and not someone else who had caught her. “Pleasure doing business with you, young lady. I will see you at half past five for dinner.”

Now that he had recovered the man’s watch, Draven backtracked to where he had last seen him. He was obviously not in the mud anymore, but it didn’t take long to spot him on a nearby bench. He was puffing away on a cigarette, looking rather annoyed at how his day was beginning. Draven approached with the watch in hand, a smile on his young face. “I do believe this is yours, sir.” He said as he sat down next to the man and held out the watch. “Beautifully crafted, if I may say so. I imagine you are glad to have it back.”

[Tamsin]

Twiddling the blunt in his fingers, the smoke hung about his palm like the fog hung about the whole of Caedere. With his free hand, he rested his chin on his knuckles, back arched, looking very fed up indeed. His brow furrowed, eyebrows knitted together as his lips drew back to become sharply pursed. He was the image of upper-class annoyance, and the laughing had not died down. Had he been a hotheaded person, he would have challenged them, shouted back. But as he was generally calm, he tried to remain so. More than anything, to make himself seem better than them. Because he was. Evidently.

I do believe this is yours, sir.[/img]

Roger jumped as he heard a voice so close by – he hadn’t been expecting anyone to approach him. It took him a moment or two to work out what it was the boy was talking about, but the sunlight caught the metal of the thing in his hand. His. . . watch? Confused, Roger took it, carefully, examining it for any scratches. Who was this person, and why had he brought him the watch back? Well, if he’d gone to so much trouble, it made sense that Roger should reward him in some way. But that could wait. For now, he was just curious about the newcomer. Lifting the cigarette to his lips again, he looked over the boy. Dark-haired, and dressed just as darkly. He didn’t look like a criminal, though. However, Roger’s eyes were drawn to something about the boy’s neck. A witch. Oh, dear. And yet, he hadn’t mentioned the fact that Roger was uncollared yet. Maybe he didn’t care. What a rarity. The gentleman’s interest was sparked. “Oh. . jolly good.”

Beautifully crafted, if I may say so. I imagine you are glad to have it back.

Leaning back, Roger held the watch (notably much tighter than before) and blew out an expertly-shaped smoke ring. Watching as it glided through the air, he then turned his head to the little dark one, “It is beautiful, it was given to me by an old friend,” that old friend had been Roger’s old master, back when he had been an apprentice in medicine. He had had the fobwatch a long time, but the old thing grew weary. He sensed that one day, probably soon, it would give out.
Oh well. He had enough money to get it fixed.

Roger seemed to be relaxing. Whether that was because of the tobacco, or the fact that he had his watch back, or that he had someone sane to talk to, was unclear. It could well have been because of all three. Frowning again, he clicked the watch open, checking the time once more, before pocketing it, making sure it was secure in his belt, safe from prying hands and poking fingers, “Thank you,” he nodded slightly, facing the younger boy again. He looked about half Roger’s age – blimey, that made him feel old. He held out a hand, “Roger Stone.” he introduced himself neatly, matter-of-factly, and offered a light smile. It was tinted with suspicion, but that was understandable. Roger was in foreign land where he had seen nothing but crime and idiocy. Of course he was going to be suspicious.

The look Roger had on his face made it clear that he was encouraging the other to introduce himself. Might as well make the most of this.

[Draven]

“Oh. . jolly good.”

Draven watched as the man examined his recovered watch, saying nothing for once. When Roger puffed out a perfect smoke ring, however, the easily amused young man couldn't help but gasp in delight. How did he do that? How did he make smoke into such a perfect shape? Though Draven had never yet smoked, he was a little tempted to do so just so he could master the clouds too. It looked like quite a lot of fun to the young man.

“It is beautiful, it was given to me by an old friend... Thank you.”

And back to the watch. "It was no trouble, sir! I am glad to have reunited you with your gift from a friend." He let out a happy sigh as he sank into the bench a little more. Yes, he had done something right today. Suddenly he felt the twine in his hand jerk, causing him to jump a bit. "Gracious!" He tightened his grip on it to reassure himself that it wouldn't slip from his hand. Who is tugging it, I wonder? I sure hope no one detaches it from my door... that would be troublesome.

“Roger Stone.”

"Eh?...Oh!" Draven took Roger's hand and gave it a gentle shake. "Draven Zedock, at your service!" He paused, still holding Roger's hand, and pondered his response for a moment. "At your service...no, that is far too businesslike..." Once again the young man began shaking Roger's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Roger Stone! My name is Draven Zedock...Hmmm, yes. That sounded much friendlier." Draven finally let go of Roger's hand and reached up to pet Quill, who was gazing curiously at her master's new acquaintance. "So what brings you to Carden, Roger?...Is it alright for me to call you that, or would you prefer Mister Stone?...Hmmm, I do believe Mister Stone might be more respectful, considering the age difference." His eye widened then as he realized the slip in his words. "Not that I see you as old, not at all! I am just inferring that you have seen more years than me due to the tone of your voice and your sophisticated attire. That said I do not pretend to know your exact age and have no intention of inquiring since that would be quite rude indeed. Yes. Right. I apologize." Perhaps it would be best to change the subject...

"...How did you make that perfect smoke ring earlier? It was quite marvelous."

[Draven]

O RLY?

[Tamsin]

Gracious!

The middle-aged physician blinked, raising an eyebrow and looking over the fellow as he gave a start, curiously. What on Earth was he doing? For a moment, Roger considered answering. Then he decided that his look of confusion would give away what he was wondering – if it triggered a response, he’d go with it. If it didn’t, then evidently the other male didn’t want to explain. It wasn’t really Roger’s business, afterall.

Draven Zedlock, at your service!

Roger opened his mouth to make a response, tell Draven that it was a pleasure to meet him, when-

At your service...no, that is far too businesslike...

The hand-shaking started up once again as Roger blinked.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Roger Stone! My name is Draven Zedock...Hmmm, yes. That sounded much friendlier.

After a few seconds, Roger laughed slightly – it was a warm sound, one which seemed to display the kinder side of his personality, breaking through the ice that had been there formally, induced by the place’s not-so-friendly welcome. This was a lovely change, and the fellow was genuinely interesting, and seemed very kind. Roger relished in it, “It certainly is a pleasure, Mr. Zedlock.” he continued to chortle, shaking his head slightly in wonder. He’d hardly expect this of someone from Carden, but a from a collared witch was downright preposterous. But not at all unwelcome.
His eyes fell upon Quill, and he smiled, nodding slightly to the creature, touching his forehead in an action which would have been the lifting of a hat, had he been wearing on at the time, “And a pleasure to meet you too, madam. She is a lady, correct?” Roger looked at Draven for confirmation.

So what brings you to Carden, Roger?...Is it alright for me to call you that, or would you prefer Mister Stone?...Hmmm, I do believe Mister Stone might be more respectful, considering the age difference.

“Doctor, actually.” Roger gave a smile to show that the slight mistake was not the others’ fault. He considered the question for a moment, tapping his chin as he inhaled another lungful of smoke. Blowing it out as he spoke, he smiled, “Business, you might say. I’m a physician, an appointment as brought me here. I arrived early, however, so I am. . . admiring the place,” distaste showed in his voice.

Not that I see you as old, not at all! I am just inferring that you have seen more years than me due to the tone of your voice and your sophisticated attire. That said I do not pretend to know your exact age and have no intention of inquiring since that would be quite rude indeed. Yes. Right. I apologize.

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked, “Really, there is no need. I’m fourty-one. I’m not ashamed of it,” he laughed slightly, nodding to him.

...How did you make that perfect smoke ring earlier? It was quite marvellous.

Smiling further, Roger grinned. He had an ego, and to have Draven stroke it was all he needed. Placing the cigarette back to his lips, he inhaled, this time letting the smoke fill his mouth, before forming an ‘o’ shape with his lips and blowing a little ring again, “Would you like me to teach you, Draven?”

[Tamsin]

nudge

[Tamsin]

again~!

[Draven]

((I've taken an obscene amount of time to get around to this. Do you still want to continue?))