A hint of relief showed itself on Pagusel's narrow features as Gant retreated. The change in her ever-mellow countenance was slight: perhaps she blinked a little bit more slowly, and the focus of her eyes dulled. Still, she watched him until he was out of sight. In a rare display of situational emotion, Pagusel gave a weak smile that looked like a frown. It made her look younger.
Daq hadn't answered her request yet. She turned her head and looked upon him. Her down-turned smile leveled to an ambivalent line. For several silent moments--his coarse grunt hanging in the oddly still air--Pagusel watched what Daq was doing. She averted her gaze periodically to stare for a second or two at nothing in particular--maybe the corners of the room or the slowly expanding border of the puddle of blood. Either way, she wasn't exactly transfixed by Daq's butchery.
Her gaze followed him as he got up to retrieve some supplies. She squinted at the unfamiliar liquids from her distance of a few yards. Her lips pinched tightly together in the center. Pagusel looked off to the side while Daq plunked the severed eyeballs into the biley yellow liquid. A sharp squelching noise drew her attention back to see Daq sawing out the beast's tongue.
What followed evoked an expression of mild interest. She took a small step back when he stood to drink, but if there was a trace of distaste on Pagusel's features, it was only fleeting. As exotic in appearance and diplomatic in manner as the woman was, it seemed indeed she either held exotic tastes herself, or else was just practicedly discreet.
Daq went to wash his hands. The twitch of a sneer shuddered across Pagusel's upper lip, but she contained herself with a flex and release of her fists. She trained her gaze on the trickle of water from the tap and gave a small sigh that might have been a hiccup.
When she went to him to take the long strip of cloth that was her shirt, she approached him on his left side. She stood a few feet from him and had to lean forward to take the loose end of the strip in her hand. A slow pull caused the strip to begin uncoiling from his hand.
Pagusel stepped back from Daq and glanced over her shoulder. If she veered just a few steps to the side, she'd put herself not quite between him and his freshly mixed vials, but just a bit closer than he. A casual sideways shuffle to avoid the blood on the floor placed her where she wanted.
Pagusel pulled her shirt once more to free it fully from Daq's hand; it dangled onto the floor and got wet. She looked over her shoulder to where those eyes were preserved in the yellow liquid and looked back at Daq pointedly. His appearance was changed slightly, but this effect didn't register with Pagusel beyond acknowledgment.
"I am prepared to ask you to fulfill your part of our verbal contract." Her voice was flat, except where she stressed the word "prepared." At that point she had gestured with her shirt towards the vials he'd prepared.
The hunt
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
"Don't think that the subtleties of your.. statement.. are lost on me!" Daq heard himself say. The hand that had proffered the shirt darted back to his side, where his knife was tucked into his belt. Daq heard a guttural growl begin to rise from his chest.
"NO!" he screamed. The sound seemed to reverberate against the unseen walls of his mental prison. For a moment, he thought he heard a whisper pass over his lips. And then everything went dark. Looking down, he could see his hands, his torso, his feet, but he stood in complete darkness. There were no walls for reference, no objects, floors or ceilings, just an oppressive cold and no attachment to the body he'd been watching moments ago.
"MORAX!" he began to yell. "MORAX! MORAX! MORAX!!"
He willed his body to shake, like he had willed it to scream. He knew his prison had no bars, but he still tried to rattle them. Soon, the formless darkness that contained him fell silent again. Daq was about to give up the ghost, when a tall man with fire-red hair and haunting yellow eyes appeared in front of him. He smiled, exposing his crowded, pointy teeth.
"Yes, Daq?" he said in his smooth, low voice. He ran his tongue over the sharp edge of his teeth before closing his mouth again.
"I'll cooperate," he said. "Just.. I need to do one last thing."
"One last thing? For her?" Morax whispered.
"Yes," Daq replied. "You know the pills?"
Morax smiled and licked his teeth again. "Am I to understand that this means full cooperation? Not just 'no disruptions.' You need to help me keep a low profile."
"Yes," Daq said, and suddenly he could see again. He stood in front of Pagusel, much closer than he had been before. Too close. His left hand was tensely clenched at his left side. He relaxed it. It was a strange feeling being in control again, after having lost it so completely. He hoped that in those moments of blackness, he had approached Pagusel slowly--that he hadn't made a sudden lunge and a grab for the knife he almost held.
"Pagusel," he whispered, reaching into his leather overcoat's right breast pocket. "I want you to have this."
He withdrew a small wooden case. Most of it was made of a dark, polished wood, but there was an inlay of lighter wood that formed an elegant design of a tree growing upon a hill. He popped open the clasp to reveal seven tightly-packed vials, each one containing small, colored pills.
"This first one--the brown pills--you take when you feel torpid. The next, the blue, when you feel frantic. The red are for pain. The green for when you want to sleep," he said, choosing not to comment on how the last two vials of pills seemed to be somewhat less full than the others. "The white pills will focus your attention. The yellow pills will bring you pleasure."
The last vial contained only a single black pill. "Don't take the black pill," Daq said of it quietly. "Unless..."
He snapped the case shut and held it out to her. "Do you remember what we spoke of earlier? If things seemed amiss?"
Color rose to his cheeks, and with a jerky, indecisive motion, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"You should go now," he whispered. "Things are amiss."
"NO!" he screamed. The sound seemed to reverberate against the unseen walls of his mental prison. For a moment, he thought he heard a whisper pass over his lips. And then everything went dark. Looking down, he could see his hands, his torso, his feet, but he stood in complete darkness. There were no walls for reference, no objects, floors or ceilings, just an oppressive cold and no attachment to the body he'd been watching moments ago.
"MORAX!" he began to yell. "MORAX! MORAX! MORAX!!"
He willed his body to shake, like he had willed it to scream. He knew his prison had no bars, but he still tried to rattle them. Soon, the formless darkness that contained him fell silent again. Daq was about to give up the ghost, when a tall man with fire-red hair and haunting yellow eyes appeared in front of him. He smiled, exposing his crowded, pointy teeth.
"Yes, Daq?" he said in his smooth, low voice. He ran his tongue over the sharp edge of his teeth before closing his mouth again.
"I'll cooperate," he said. "Just.. I need to do one last thing."
"One last thing? For her?" Morax whispered.
"Yes," Daq replied. "You know the pills?"
Morax smiled and licked his teeth again. "Am I to understand that this means full cooperation? Not just 'no disruptions.' You need to help me keep a low profile."
"Yes," Daq said, and suddenly he could see again. He stood in front of Pagusel, much closer than he had been before. Too close. His left hand was tensely clenched at his left side. He relaxed it. It was a strange feeling being in control again, after having lost it so completely. He hoped that in those moments of blackness, he had approached Pagusel slowly--that he hadn't made a sudden lunge and a grab for the knife he almost held.
"Pagusel," he whispered, reaching into his leather overcoat's right breast pocket. "I want you to have this."
He withdrew a small wooden case. Most of it was made of a dark, polished wood, but there was an inlay of lighter wood that formed an elegant design of a tree growing upon a hill. He popped open the clasp to reveal seven tightly-packed vials, each one containing small, colored pills.
"This first one--the brown pills--you take when you feel torpid. The next, the blue, when you feel frantic. The red are for pain. The green for when you want to sleep," he said, choosing not to comment on how the last two vials of pills seemed to be somewhat less full than the others. "The white pills will focus your attention. The yellow pills will bring you pleasure."
The last vial contained only a single black pill. "Don't take the black pill," Daq said of it quietly. "Unless..."
He snapped the case shut and held it out to her. "Do you remember what we spoke of earlier? If things seemed amiss?"
Color rose to his cheeks, and with a jerky, indecisive motion, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"You should go now," he whispered. "Things are amiss."
...
Re: The hunt
There was a previously unheard ghastliness to Daq's voice when he spoke now. Then he growled. Pagusel stood very still but her eyes moved; as if following the gravelly roll of his growl as it echoed in the room, her gaze arced from the half-destroyed wall, to the ceiling, and back to the table with the vials. She looked back at the window from which she had entered. She was calculating.
Pagusel watched with narrowed eyes as Daq seemed to struggle with some internal force. A reluctant sigh slackened her jaw. She reached up with her empty hand to twiddle a lock of dark hair. Again, she gave a quick sort of sneer, and she seemed more nervous than angry.
Presently, he came her. She had been lost in her tic for a few moments and couldn't be sure how much time had passed. His approach broke her interlude. He came not slowly, and not quickly--with an eerily fluid step that was nothing like the hobble she'd last seen from him, before the lab. The movement of his hands was unsettling: fluid, too, like his gait, her twitchy gaze couldn't predict his movements.
After a few tense seconds that felt like ages, he was there in front of her, and Pagusel saw a fuzzy sort of awareness wash over his face. An awareness was on her features, too--confirmation of what she had suspected since that growl. She didn't need to know Daq intimately to know he was not acting himself; he wasn't hiding it very thoroughly.
She took in his description of the case carefully, nodding once for each pill explained. When he trailed off in his introduction of the black pills, she looked up at his face. She accepted the case in her free hand, and just as their fingers met, he said something and his face lunged towards hers.
Pagusel gasped and jerked her head to the side so that his dry peck brushed from her cheekbone to her ear. He might have even seen the lines of tattoo just beneath the hairline at her nape. She lifted the hand with the wooden box up to shield her face from any more advances. After a ragged breath or two, she composed herself and simply shook her head in response. It would be easier to assume that act was on the part of that rogue personality that was trying to preside.
He had told her she should go. She took a step backwards and looked at the box in her hand. "Daq--when I need more?" She stepped back again and her lips parted a few times as she waited for the proper words to come. "Have you got . . . an alias?" She looked back over her shoulder and then to him. "You should remember what I said about superstition," she added, quickly and quietly. "You can lose years to unwise . . . behaviors." Pagusel backed up until she was nearly at the street.
Pagusel watched with narrowed eyes as Daq seemed to struggle with some internal force. A reluctant sigh slackened her jaw. She reached up with her empty hand to twiddle a lock of dark hair. Again, she gave a quick sort of sneer, and she seemed more nervous than angry.
Presently, he came her. She had been lost in her tic for a few moments and couldn't be sure how much time had passed. His approach broke her interlude. He came not slowly, and not quickly--with an eerily fluid step that was nothing like the hobble she'd last seen from him, before the lab. The movement of his hands was unsettling: fluid, too, like his gait, her twitchy gaze couldn't predict his movements.
After a few tense seconds that felt like ages, he was there in front of her, and Pagusel saw a fuzzy sort of awareness wash over his face. An awareness was on her features, too--confirmation of what she had suspected since that growl. She didn't need to know Daq intimately to know he was not acting himself; he wasn't hiding it very thoroughly.
She took in his description of the case carefully, nodding once for each pill explained. When he trailed off in his introduction of the black pills, she looked up at his face. She accepted the case in her free hand, and just as their fingers met, he said something and his face lunged towards hers.
Pagusel gasped and jerked her head to the side so that his dry peck brushed from her cheekbone to her ear. He might have even seen the lines of tattoo just beneath the hairline at her nape. She lifted the hand with the wooden box up to shield her face from any more advances. After a ragged breath or two, she composed herself and simply shook her head in response. It would be easier to assume that act was on the part of that rogue personality that was trying to preside.
He had told her she should go. She took a step backwards and looked at the box in her hand. "Daq--when I need more?" She stepped back again and her lips parted a few times as she waited for the proper words to come. "Have you got . . . an alias?" She looked back over her shoulder and then to him. "You should remember what I said about superstition," she added, quickly and quietly. "You can lose years to unwise . . . behaviors." Pagusel backed up until she was nearly at the street.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Daq realized then that it would have been better to have provided a fuller explanation of his 'condition' to Pagusel. He started to say something--voice any one of the myriad warnings he wanted to give her--when his head jerked to the left. He found himself in darkness, shouting for Morax once more.
Though Daq's calls were causing the right side of his face to twitch, Morax decided to ignore them. Instead, he watched with a lustful protectiveness as Pagusel backed away from his lab tables. At first, he simply turned back to his equipment, with the intent of starting the tedious process of rearranging and making an inventory of what was left, but it dawned on him that Daq had been asked a number of questions, and that answers were expected of him, likely before the woman would leave.
He turned to her and replied in a put-off, yet disinterested tone, "Daq is no more. He surrendered himself to me in exchange for one last favor, which he seems to have wasted on you."
He nodded toward the box Daq had placed in her hands along with his warning.
"I have work to do. Bego--" Morax started, cutting himself off mid-admonishment. He chided himself for taking so long to recognize the nature of the woman's garments and wondered if all the years in limbo had dulled the usual acuteness of his perception.
He cleared his throat and started again. "I mean.. Though I have work to do, I would be happy to produce something for you. Rest assured that it will be of much higher quality than the dreck Daq churns out.."
He inhaled sharply, flaring his fair-skinned nostrils. His face twitched. There were so many factors to consider. How could he possibly manage to 'put things delicately?' He considered calling upon Daq for his assistance, but the man seemed too unsettled to count on.
"But be sure, also," he said finally. "Those.. items.. will come at a cost. Do not think that, after wearing it, I have failed to recognize the.. unique.. qualities of your shirt. I assume you are in possession of a.. similarly unique.. ability that--ah--necessitates your wearing of them. Perhaps we could be.. of.. mutual benefit."
"To each other," he added on, regretting the idiotic redundancy as soon as the final word left his mouth. Licking his teeth, he looked for some sign of understanding on the woman's part, but he found her completely unfathomable.
"Excuse me," he said quickly, retreating into himself. He found Daq in a state of greater agitation than he had imagined.
"What have you done with her?" Daq demanded, rushing toward him. Though Morax was sure that he would prevail at the psychic grappling Daq intended to engage him in, his preference was to avoid any activity that would likely cause their body to spasm with embarrassing bouts of involuntary flailing.
"Nothing, nothing," Morax said, wishing he knew of some sort of calming hand motion he could make along with his assurances. "I just.. require.. or... uhh.."
"Promise me you won't hurt her," Daq said, guessing already that Morax had quickly run into a situation that required interpretation.
"I.. uhh.." Morax said, careful to stick to something he could fulfill. "I will take your preference into consideration in my dealings with her."
Daq nodded. This was likely the best he was going to get. Morax began to explain to him, aided by images of the transpired conversation that began to suffuse the darkness--memories being recalled.
"Tell her your name now and offer her your hand like a merchant making a deal. Do not advance on her. Leave her space," Daq advised. It was the best he could come up with.
Morax had turned away and begun to gently fade when Daq called for him again.
"Hmm?" he inquired, looking over his shoulder.
"How about some entertainment?" Daq inquired, but he was already gone.
Morax blinked away the dryness in his eyes and judged that he must have been staring dumbly into space for several minutes. Struggling to focus again on Pagusel, he extended his hand in a businesslike fashion.
"I am referred to as Morax in these parts."
Though Daq's calls were causing the right side of his face to twitch, Morax decided to ignore them. Instead, he watched with a lustful protectiveness as Pagusel backed away from his lab tables. At first, he simply turned back to his equipment, with the intent of starting the tedious process of rearranging and making an inventory of what was left, but it dawned on him that Daq had been asked a number of questions, and that answers were expected of him, likely before the woman would leave.
He turned to her and replied in a put-off, yet disinterested tone, "Daq is no more. He surrendered himself to me in exchange for one last favor, which he seems to have wasted on you."
He nodded toward the box Daq had placed in her hands along with his warning.
"I have work to do. Bego--" Morax started, cutting himself off mid-admonishment. He chided himself for taking so long to recognize the nature of the woman's garments and wondered if all the years in limbo had dulled the usual acuteness of his perception.
He cleared his throat and started again. "I mean.. Though I have work to do, I would be happy to produce something for you. Rest assured that it will be of much higher quality than the dreck Daq churns out.."
He inhaled sharply, flaring his fair-skinned nostrils. His face twitched. There were so many factors to consider. How could he possibly manage to 'put things delicately?' He considered calling upon Daq for his assistance, but the man seemed too unsettled to count on.
"But be sure, also," he said finally. "Those.. items.. will come at a cost. Do not think that, after wearing it, I have failed to recognize the.. unique.. qualities of your shirt. I assume you are in possession of a.. similarly unique.. ability that--ah--necessitates your wearing of them. Perhaps we could be.. of.. mutual benefit."
"To each other," he added on, regretting the idiotic redundancy as soon as the final word left his mouth. Licking his teeth, he looked for some sign of understanding on the woman's part, but he found her completely unfathomable.
"Excuse me," he said quickly, retreating into himself. He found Daq in a state of greater agitation than he had imagined.
"What have you done with her?" Daq demanded, rushing toward him. Though Morax was sure that he would prevail at the psychic grappling Daq intended to engage him in, his preference was to avoid any activity that would likely cause their body to spasm with embarrassing bouts of involuntary flailing.
"Nothing, nothing," Morax said, wishing he knew of some sort of calming hand motion he could make along with his assurances. "I just.. require.. or... uhh.."
"Promise me you won't hurt her," Daq said, guessing already that Morax had quickly run into a situation that required interpretation.
"I.. uhh.." Morax said, careful to stick to something he could fulfill. "I will take your preference into consideration in my dealings with her."
Daq nodded. This was likely the best he was going to get. Morax began to explain to him, aided by images of the transpired conversation that began to suffuse the darkness--memories being recalled.
"Tell her your name now and offer her your hand like a merchant making a deal. Do not advance on her. Leave her space," Daq advised. It was the best he could come up with.
Morax had turned away and begun to gently fade when Daq called for him again.
"Hmm?" he inquired, looking over his shoulder.
"How about some entertainment?" Daq inquired, but he was already gone.
Morax blinked away the dryness in his eyes and judged that he must have been staring dumbly into space for several minutes. Struggling to focus again on Pagusel, he extended his hand in a businesslike fashion.
"I am referred to as Morax in these parts."
...
Re: The hunt
Standing a short distance from Morax, Pagusel didn't feel compelled to flee in fear, even as the man's face seized with a tic of some sort and he leered unnaturally at the lab table. But, as he was about to tell her to leave, she appeared ready to comply. Her face was marked with mild disappointment over the whole endeavor, yet she hadn't put enough effort into her search for the druggist in the first place to care to fight the case. He was possessed, and that was just too much trouble.
Then Morax told her to wait. She turned back to him, her thin lips pursed. She squinted to take in the sight of his physical change, from the ankle that was healed to the tips of his altered hair.
As he spoke, Pagusel's shoulders relaxed very slightly from their annoyed tenseness. He seemed off his guard, uncomfortable speaking with her. Perhaps this figure didn't have all the confidence of a garden-variety possessive spirit. Perhaps he wasn't so dangerous, and it would be worth the trouble to press the matter of Daq's return to presence. This Morax was at least lacking in thorough situational awareness, or else he might have noticed more plainly by now that she was, indeed, also a cockroach, and would not have had to be so tricky in figuring it out. When he made a grammatical slip in his rhetoric, Pagusel's eyes widened. Her lips pressed out a small, brief smile.
He said, "Excuse me," and went catatonic. Pagusel's smile disappeared as she took in this uncomfortable sight. After about thirty seconds, when Morax did not seem at all likely to return immediately, she glanced over her shoulder and then tucked the small wooden case under her chin.
Her arms disappeared beneath her cloak, and she began to rewrap the cloth around her torso. The position was awkward: she had to arch her back to fit the garment properly, but her chin was tucked down against her collarbone. She struggled carefully and finally secured the thing. A few moments after she took the box back into her hand and relaxed her arms, Morax snapped out of his state.
Pagusel peered down her nose at the hand he offered. She looked down at her own right hand, which held the wooden case of pills, and shrugged as if helpless. Her hand was occupied; she couldn't return the gesture. The intentionally rude blow-off was a below-par retaliation to the rudeness of Morax spiritually possessing her prior companion.
She cleared her throat. While he was gone, she'd had the time to develop a small catch in her vocal tract. "Hello, Morax," she said flatly. Pagusel wasn't terrified, but she wasn't exactly an old veteran in dealing with possession. A slow swallow smoothed he throat and gave her time to consider her words.
" . . . It is good to know you are 'referred' to in these parts, for I should indeed require an outside reference before I could consider entering into a business agreement with you. I have heard Mister Bekkar's name spoken well, which is why I have sought his partnership. Understand that Mister Bekkar and I discussed the possibility of a business agreement just this last evening--were you aware?--and until he and I have a chance to further our discussion, I could not, in good ethical conscience, enter into another such contract--especially considering his untimely departure. If you would allow me to speak with him again, Morax, Mister Bekkar and I could sort this out. Perhaps he could even offer a professional reference for yourself."
Then Morax told her to wait. She turned back to him, her thin lips pursed. She squinted to take in the sight of his physical change, from the ankle that was healed to the tips of his altered hair.
As he spoke, Pagusel's shoulders relaxed very slightly from their annoyed tenseness. He seemed off his guard, uncomfortable speaking with her. Perhaps this figure didn't have all the confidence of a garden-variety possessive spirit. Perhaps he wasn't so dangerous, and it would be worth the trouble to press the matter of Daq's return to presence. This Morax was at least lacking in thorough situational awareness, or else he might have noticed more plainly by now that she was, indeed, also a cockroach, and would not have had to be so tricky in figuring it out. When he made a grammatical slip in his rhetoric, Pagusel's eyes widened. Her lips pressed out a small, brief smile.
He said, "Excuse me," and went catatonic. Pagusel's smile disappeared as she took in this uncomfortable sight. After about thirty seconds, when Morax did not seem at all likely to return immediately, she glanced over her shoulder and then tucked the small wooden case under her chin.
Her arms disappeared beneath her cloak, and she began to rewrap the cloth around her torso. The position was awkward: she had to arch her back to fit the garment properly, but her chin was tucked down against her collarbone. She struggled carefully and finally secured the thing. A few moments after she took the box back into her hand and relaxed her arms, Morax snapped out of his state.
Pagusel peered down her nose at the hand he offered. She looked down at her own right hand, which held the wooden case of pills, and shrugged as if helpless. Her hand was occupied; she couldn't return the gesture. The intentionally rude blow-off was a below-par retaliation to the rudeness of Morax spiritually possessing her prior companion.
She cleared her throat. While he was gone, she'd had the time to develop a small catch in her vocal tract. "Hello, Morax," she said flatly. Pagusel wasn't terrified, but she wasn't exactly an old veteran in dealing with possession. A slow swallow smoothed he throat and gave her time to consider her words.
" . . . It is good to know you are 'referred' to in these parts, for I should indeed require an outside reference before I could consider entering into a business agreement with you. I have heard Mister Bekkar's name spoken well, which is why I have sought his partnership. Understand that Mister Bekkar and I discussed the possibility of a business agreement just this last evening--were you aware?--and until he and I have a chance to further our discussion, I could not, in good ethical conscience, enter into another such contract--especially considering his untimely departure. If you would allow me to speak with him again, Morax, Mister Bekkar and I could sort this out. Perhaps he could even offer a professional reference for yourself."
-
Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Morax fought to keep his forehead from crinkling. With Daq's frown lines, it would have been an easier affair, but the skin had begun to smooth, and even the most minute disturbance showed across it.
"Fine! Be that way," he said, withdrawing his hand and doing his best to imitate the indignation he had so often observed among people at the receiving end of such rebuffs as Pagusel's. After some consideration, he added, "But you're not speaking to him again."
Morax turned around and began straightening out racks, glassware, and reagents. "Not now at least. He's on too free of a leash already."
But in truth he had just turned from her as an excuse to consult with Daq again. Masking a twitch by pretending to read the label on the bottom of a bottle, he retreated into the darkness Daq was trapped in. He found his host sitting in the nether, counting on his fingers.
"Trouble again?" Daq asked flatly.
"Mm. Watch," Morax said as he began to share Pagusel's actions and words. Morax would have been only more frustrated and baffled by his amusement, so Daq struggled to restrain himself from smiling or chuckling at him having met his match.
"What?" Morax asked, nonetheless.
"Nothing," Daq replied.
"No! Tell me!"
Daq saw his opportunity. "Wellll.." he started. "How about that entertainment?"
Morax snapped his fingers, and shelves after shelves of books materialized in the darkness. Before Daq could ask a question, he was preempted. "This is every book I've ever read. More than enough to entertain you for a very long while. Now tell me."
But Daq could only stare at the seemingly boundless library. Judging by the books near him, most of the books concerned some kind of science, but aside from their colorful covers, something about his surroundings still seemed rather drab.
"Not exactly comfortable, is it?" Daq asked pointedly.
Morax responded by waving his hands, after which Daq found himself and the books in a comfortably furnished, yet oddly familiar library.
By now, an ugly shadow of impatience had descended upon Morax's features. Licking his teeth, he hissed at Daq. "This is the last of your requests. Tell me!"
Eager to investigate the collection of books and avail himself of the comfort of his new surroundings, Daq reluctantly decided it was time to cooperate with Morax. "In my experience, Pagusel has been a very literal and formal person. Perhaps it would be better if you abandoned all semblance of familiarity. Simply allow her to take the lead. Talk about contracts. Tell her that I've given you permission to fulfill my end of the bargain and that I believe you more than capable of doing so. Ask her to specifically enumerate the terms, however."
Morax, seeking to keep his absence brief, left Daq without a response. He found little stiffness in his muscles, little dryness in his eyes. He estimated he had only been occupied for a minute or two.
"Although," he blurted out loudly and quickly, not knowing where to go from there. He put down the bottle and turned away from the table.
"Although.." he repeated, cursing his difficulty in putting things to words, "I would.. uhh.. assure you that Daq has..."
He snatched at a fleck of something in the air and rubbed his index and thumb. Slowly, a tiny ball of a bluish substance began to accumulate. Originally, he had only intended for the dust to give his hands something to do, but he found himself distracted again, and he had to set it aside.
"Ahh.. What was I saying?" he muttered. "Right.. Uhh. Daq has told me that I can do his part of the contract, but.. I ought to ask you to enumerate the terms once again. For my benefit, that is. And that he thinks I would be able to perform more than satisfactorily."
Morax picked up the bluish speck and began to turn it in his fingers again, gradually gathering more and more.
"Fine! Be that way," he said, withdrawing his hand and doing his best to imitate the indignation he had so often observed among people at the receiving end of such rebuffs as Pagusel's. After some consideration, he added, "But you're not speaking to him again."
Morax turned around and began straightening out racks, glassware, and reagents. "Not now at least. He's on too free of a leash already."
But in truth he had just turned from her as an excuse to consult with Daq again. Masking a twitch by pretending to read the label on the bottom of a bottle, he retreated into the darkness Daq was trapped in. He found his host sitting in the nether, counting on his fingers.
"Trouble again?" Daq asked flatly.
"Mm. Watch," Morax said as he began to share Pagusel's actions and words. Morax would have been only more frustrated and baffled by his amusement, so Daq struggled to restrain himself from smiling or chuckling at him having met his match.
"What?" Morax asked, nonetheless.
"Nothing," Daq replied.
"No! Tell me!"
Daq saw his opportunity. "Wellll.." he started. "How about that entertainment?"
Morax snapped his fingers, and shelves after shelves of books materialized in the darkness. Before Daq could ask a question, he was preempted. "This is every book I've ever read. More than enough to entertain you for a very long while. Now tell me."
But Daq could only stare at the seemingly boundless library. Judging by the books near him, most of the books concerned some kind of science, but aside from their colorful covers, something about his surroundings still seemed rather drab.
"Not exactly comfortable, is it?" Daq asked pointedly.
Morax responded by waving his hands, after which Daq found himself and the books in a comfortably furnished, yet oddly familiar library.
By now, an ugly shadow of impatience had descended upon Morax's features. Licking his teeth, he hissed at Daq. "This is the last of your requests. Tell me!"
Eager to investigate the collection of books and avail himself of the comfort of his new surroundings, Daq reluctantly decided it was time to cooperate with Morax. "In my experience, Pagusel has been a very literal and formal person. Perhaps it would be better if you abandoned all semblance of familiarity. Simply allow her to take the lead. Talk about contracts. Tell her that I've given you permission to fulfill my end of the bargain and that I believe you more than capable of doing so. Ask her to specifically enumerate the terms, however."
Morax, seeking to keep his absence brief, left Daq without a response. He found little stiffness in his muscles, little dryness in his eyes. He estimated he had only been occupied for a minute or two.
"Although," he blurted out loudly and quickly, not knowing where to go from there. He put down the bottle and turned away from the table.
"Although.." he repeated, cursing his difficulty in putting things to words, "I would.. uhh.. assure you that Daq has..."
He snatched at a fleck of something in the air and rubbed his index and thumb. Slowly, a tiny ball of a bluish substance began to accumulate. Originally, he had only intended for the dust to give his hands something to do, but he found himself distracted again, and he had to set it aside.
"Ahh.. What was I saying?" he muttered. "Right.. Uhh. Daq has told me that I can do his part of the contract, but.. I ought to ask you to enumerate the terms once again. For my benefit, that is. And that he thinks I would be able to perform more than satisfactorily."
Morax picked up the bluish speck and began to turn it in his fingers again, gradually gathering more and more.
...
Re: The hunt
Pagusel observed Morax with such a dark, placid expression, it could be mistaken for coolness. His response to her ethical diatribe seemed childish, as if from someone who hadn’t yet learned the proper soberness of adulthood through hardship or years of meditation.
Her right hand dangled below the hem of her cloak. She lifted her left up under the cloak and poked her fingertips up through the neck to stroke her chin thoughtfully. She faced Morax’s back as he fell silent again.
Behind Pagusel, weak, milky morning sunlight cast clarity over the debris-strewn street. The light had no radiance to it; it seemed incidental. These were not kind rays whose warmth would be personified by poets. This sunlight seemed somehow colder than the night and fell around Daq’s lab like a dusty muslin curtain over an empty stage.
When Morax turned around, his face gave Pagusel pause. She only then realized how completely this physical being had changed from the Daq she had met before. Had she not kept him in her sight nearly continuously, she would not have been sure this being was the same flesh from the club in the woods. But she was sure.
She waited for him to add something to that “Although.” She saw something in his fingers—a grayish mass, or perhaps it was more blue. The pale ambient light deadened the hue of everything in its wash.
A flicker of uncertainty flashed across Pagusel’s face when Morax put his rather unconvincing offer in front of her. Then she nodded her head forward slightly as she prepared to respond. Her brow was drawn with incredulity.
“Sir, are you offering me a reference on hearsay . . . through yourself?” Pagusel lowered her left hand to meet her right and she held the small wooden box between her hands, primly, below her waist. “And are you also, despite claiming to be in direct conference with Mister Bekkar, requiring I ‘enumerate the terms’ he and I may have discussed?”
Pagusel sighed as she sought eye contact with the unusual man before her. “I must insist we establish some sort of professional confidence between ourselves before we can continue.” The strain of her discomfort was just beginning to show on her wearying face. He might not read the signals well, but the fact was she couldn’t so readily abandon a potential deal with a willing druggist.
“ . . . We may yet be able to do this—if I may ask you some questions.” Her left hand abandoned her right again and jerked up to touch the side of her face. The move was impulsive. Her fingers brushed gingerly against the spot where Daq had placed a kiss, as if there were an imprecise itch lingering. “Did you—Morax—bring your face to mine?”
Her right hand dangled below the hem of her cloak. She lifted her left up under the cloak and poked her fingertips up through the neck to stroke her chin thoughtfully. She faced Morax’s back as he fell silent again.
Behind Pagusel, weak, milky morning sunlight cast clarity over the debris-strewn street. The light had no radiance to it; it seemed incidental. These were not kind rays whose warmth would be personified by poets. This sunlight seemed somehow colder than the night and fell around Daq’s lab like a dusty muslin curtain over an empty stage.
When Morax turned around, his face gave Pagusel pause. She only then realized how completely this physical being had changed from the Daq she had met before. Had she not kept him in her sight nearly continuously, she would not have been sure this being was the same flesh from the club in the woods. But she was sure.
She waited for him to add something to that “Although.” She saw something in his fingers—a grayish mass, or perhaps it was more blue. The pale ambient light deadened the hue of everything in its wash.
A flicker of uncertainty flashed across Pagusel’s face when Morax put his rather unconvincing offer in front of her. Then she nodded her head forward slightly as she prepared to respond. Her brow was drawn with incredulity.
“Sir, are you offering me a reference on hearsay . . . through yourself?” Pagusel lowered her left hand to meet her right and she held the small wooden box between her hands, primly, below her waist. “And are you also, despite claiming to be in direct conference with Mister Bekkar, requiring I ‘enumerate the terms’ he and I may have discussed?”
Pagusel sighed as she sought eye contact with the unusual man before her. “I must insist we establish some sort of professional confidence between ourselves before we can continue.” The strain of her discomfort was just beginning to show on her wearying face. He might not read the signals well, but the fact was she couldn’t so readily abandon a potential deal with a willing druggist.
“ . . . We may yet be able to do this—if I may ask you some questions.” Her left hand abandoned her right again and jerked up to touch the side of her face. The move was impulsive. Her fingers brushed gingerly against the spot where Daq had placed a kiss, as if there were an imprecise itch lingering. “Did you—Morax—bring your face to mine?”
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Morax continued to play with the accumulating chemicals, now beginning to grow to a pill size, and he coughed nervously at Pagusel's indictments and shirked away from meeting her gaze for as long as possible. Otherwise, he waited in a manner he was accustomed to seeing among people having a discussion for Pagusel to finish. After her question about the kiss, he allowed a period of silence to accumulate.
During that time, he pondered which of her questions had been 'rhetorical' and which he was supposed to, in some way, address. This proved to be too much effort for him. To keep things simple, he decided to address them all.
"Well, yes," he said, hoping that Pagusel would follow him and recognize that he intended to respond to her questions in order. "Yes. But.."
Morax paused and considered how to explain the nature of Daq's relationship with him. Sighing, he continued carefully. He was beginning to tire of the woman. Was her assistance really worth it? And how helpful would she really be?
"But 'conference' does not imply that I am linked to his dealings.. per se.. or even really privy to them all the time. And a hearsay reference is the best you are going to get from me at present time."
Assuming what he considered a more authoritative tone, though it might have come across as huffy, he added, "Take it. Or leave it." He punctuated this addition with the extending and withdrawing of the small blue ball he had made.
Finally, he placed the ball in his open hand and held it out to her. "And rest assured that Daq will be held privy to very few of my dealings. Especially those that involve you, since concern for you makes him... volatile. He was in full control when you were kissed, but perhaps I am partly to blame. I believe him to have been filled with an emotion called worry.
"Too bad he didn't have one of these to chew on," Morax said, allowing his gaze to settle suggestively on the ball in his palm. Struggling to repress the urge to suck his teeth, he began to play with his knife. Holding it behind his back, he nervously thumbed the blade. Even if she proved to be less-than-helpful, he reassured himself, she could be used. Truth be told, the tantalizing promise of a dissection was already beginning to put him in more of a mood for killing than for kissing.
During that time, he pondered which of her questions had been 'rhetorical' and which he was supposed to, in some way, address. This proved to be too much effort for him. To keep things simple, he decided to address them all.
"Well, yes," he said, hoping that Pagusel would follow him and recognize that he intended to respond to her questions in order. "Yes. But.."
Morax paused and considered how to explain the nature of Daq's relationship with him. Sighing, he continued carefully. He was beginning to tire of the woman. Was her assistance really worth it? And how helpful would she really be?
"But 'conference' does not imply that I am linked to his dealings.. per se.. or even really privy to them all the time. And a hearsay reference is the best you are going to get from me at present time."
Assuming what he considered a more authoritative tone, though it might have come across as huffy, he added, "Take it. Or leave it." He punctuated this addition with the extending and withdrawing of the small blue ball he had made.
Finally, he placed the ball in his open hand and held it out to her. "And rest assured that Daq will be held privy to very few of my dealings. Especially those that involve you, since concern for you makes him... volatile. He was in full control when you were kissed, but perhaps I am partly to blame. I believe him to have been filled with an emotion called worry.
"Too bad he didn't have one of these to chew on," Morax said, allowing his gaze to settle suggestively on the ball in his palm. Struggling to repress the urge to suck his teeth, he began to play with his knife. Holding it behind his back, he nervously thumbed the blade. Even if she proved to be less-than-helpful, he reassured himself, she could be used. Truth be told, the tantalizing promise of a dissection was already beginning to put him in more of a mood for killing than for kissing.
...
Re: The hunt
Pagusel raised her eyebrows as Morax began to wade through his response. It seemed he was putting a few different answers into what he was saying, and she had to force herself to recall what exactly he was giving answers for. Her eyes rolled up slowly as if to somehow retrieve a script from inside her own head. She blinked and her gaze dropped to his eye level again. He was holding that bluish thing for her to see.
His words were so odd. In some ways Morax seemed versed in rhetoric, the way he laid his position. His line was a hard one. And yet he still seemed uncomfortable handling the words Pagusel put forth to him. As she squinted at him, her eyes seemed to turn down at the outside corners ever so slightly.
When Morax said something about Daq worrying and kissing and chewing, Pagusel's hand shot up to the side of her face again. She resisted by a fraction of an inch the urge to scrub at her skin with her fingers. Instead she waved her fingertips at the air beside her cheek and lowered her hand shakily.
"This whole matter has become complicated," she practically spat, with a husky kind of quiet force. "I would like to relax." Pagusel craned her neck elegantly to indicate sight of his nervous hand behind his back, if perhaps she couldn't quite make out what he was fussing with. "I think you could use some relaxation too."
She rotated the small wooden case around against the palm of her left hand with slow, careful twists of her fingers. "Daq--Morax . . . I propose we cons--p-partake--of a relaxant in company of each other. This could . . ." Her throat caught and caused her to trail off hoarsely. She coughed. "This could help us to speak at ease about a possible deal and establish a professional trust."
Pagusel's gaze hovered a few inches above the strange blue thing in Morax's outstretched hand.
His words were so odd. In some ways Morax seemed versed in rhetoric, the way he laid his position. His line was a hard one. And yet he still seemed uncomfortable handling the words Pagusel put forth to him. As she squinted at him, her eyes seemed to turn down at the outside corners ever so slightly.
When Morax said something about Daq worrying and kissing and chewing, Pagusel's hand shot up to the side of her face again. She resisted by a fraction of an inch the urge to scrub at her skin with her fingers. Instead she waved her fingertips at the air beside her cheek and lowered her hand shakily.
"This whole matter has become complicated," she practically spat, with a husky kind of quiet force. "I would like to relax." Pagusel craned her neck elegantly to indicate sight of his nervous hand behind his back, if perhaps she couldn't quite make out what he was fussing with. "I think you could use some relaxation too."
She rotated the small wooden case around against the palm of her left hand with slow, careful twists of her fingers. "Daq--Morax . . . I propose we cons--p-partake--of a relaxant in company of each other. This could . . ." Her throat caught and caused her to trail off hoarsely. She coughed. "This could help us to speak at ease about a possible deal and establish a professional trust."
Pagusel's gaze hovered a few inches above the strange blue thing in Morax's outstretched hand.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Morax twisted slowly to block her view of the knife as the woman craned her neck. He wasn't exactly sure to how to understand her sudden focus on herself. And what made her think that he needed to relax?
He eyed her suspiciously as she suggested they take the sedative together. Did she know that Daq would have an easier time regaining control if his guard was lowered by the drug? He remembered from his observations that people had a tendency to stumble and pause when they were playing at something. Was this a ploy?
Yet.. he was so eager to establish a 'professional trust' with her, as she called it. The special shape-shifter clothes indicated that her transformation involved a reasonable alteration in size, and since her powers had, up to this point, gone unnoticed... He assumed that her shifting involved a decrease in size. Perhaps a significant one. His mind spun with the possibilities.. the avenues such a talent could open.
Trying his best to express his annoyance, he replied with a terse, "fine."
With a snakelike flourish, he allowed the revelation of his plaything. For a moment, he paused to reflect upon how coldly the knife glimmered in the haggard morning light. Carefully, he pressed the knife against the midsection of the pill he held in his hand, splitting it in an even two. The knife drove into his palm and a thin, red line began to form on the skin between the two halves. Blood welling, threatening to overflow at any moment, he held his hand out to Pagusel insistently.
"Take your half," he said flatly.
He eyed her suspiciously as she suggested they take the sedative together. Did she know that Daq would have an easier time regaining control if his guard was lowered by the drug? He remembered from his observations that people had a tendency to stumble and pause when they were playing at something. Was this a ploy?
Yet.. he was so eager to establish a 'professional trust' with her, as she called it. The special shape-shifter clothes indicated that her transformation involved a reasonable alteration in size, and since her powers had, up to this point, gone unnoticed... He assumed that her shifting involved a decrease in size. Perhaps a significant one. His mind spun with the possibilities.. the avenues such a talent could open.
Trying his best to express his annoyance, he replied with a terse, "fine."
With a snakelike flourish, he allowed the revelation of his plaything. For a moment, he paused to reflect upon how coldly the knife glimmered in the haggard morning light. Carefully, he pressed the knife against the midsection of the pill he held in his hand, splitting it in an even two. The knife drove into his palm and a thin, red line began to form on the skin between the two halves. Blood welling, threatening to overflow at any moment, he held his hand out to Pagusel insistently.
"Take your half," he said flatly.
...
Re: The hunt
Pagusel pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply through thin, flared nostrils. He was hiding something behind his back from her, deliberately. It seemed this odd character was indeed hers to deal with, possibly the end of her search for a proper supplier. She breathed in a series of silent sighs that became a steady pattern of respiration while her eyes searched Morax's disingenuous face for some sign of the man she'd initially sought out.
Morax presented the knife he'd been hiding. Pagusel glanced down with wide brown eyes but otherwise made no sudden movements. She took a step towards him so she was rather close to his front.
Just as Pagusel was lifting her hand to accept half of the offer, the line of red sprang from the elastic skin of his palm, and she grit teeth. She pushed her arm forward, but the hesitation was in her wrist--her knuckles stiffened for half a second as her hand jerked backward at the wrist. She cleared her throat, though, and moved her hand swiftly forward to take half of the pill before it was completely soaked.
The woman took a moment to rub at the surface of the thing with her thumb. She inspected it several inches in front of her face and found it clean enough. Medicine of the day was not so concerned with the idea of fresh blood as a contaminant, and as long as no trace was visible to the naked eye, blood-related magical bindings rarely held, if ever. On top of that, it seemed any of the intense social squeamishness Pagusel exhibited had nothing to do with mere fluids, and so the temporary presence of blood on her pill didn't faze her. There was a more pressing concern at hand.
Pagusel looked up from her pill at Morax. She waited a few moments and gestured at him vaguely with her half of the pill. "As the supplier, you should tell me what to expect, and take your portion first," she prompted. She didn't sound impatient at all; in fact, the timbre of her voice that replaced her prior nerves would even indicate eagerness.
Morax presented the knife he'd been hiding. Pagusel glanced down with wide brown eyes but otherwise made no sudden movements. She took a step towards him so she was rather close to his front.
Just as Pagusel was lifting her hand to accept half of the offer, the line of red sprang from the elastic skin of his palm, and she grit teeth. She pushed her arm forward, but the hesitation was in her wrist--her knuckles stiffened for half a second as her hand jerked backward at the wrist. She cleared her throat, though, and moved her hand swiftly forward to take half of the pill before it was completely soaked.
The woman took a moment to rub at the surface of the thing with her thumb. She inspected it several inches in front of her face and found it clean enough. Medicine of the day was not so concerned with the idea of fresh blood as a contaminant, and as long as no trace was visible to the naked eye, blood-related magical bindings rarely held, if ever. On top of that, it seemed any of the intense social squeamishness Pagusel exhibited had nothing to do with mere fluids, and so the temporary presence of blood on her pill didn't faze her. There was a more pressing concern at hand.
Pagusel looked up from her pill at Morax. She waited a few moments and gestured at him vaguely with her half of the pill. "As the supplier, you should tell me what to expect, and take your portion first," she prompted. She didn't sound impatient at all; in fact, the timbre of her voice that replaced her prior nerves would even indicate eagerness.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Morax was somewhat miffed at how long it took Pagusel to take her end of the pill, and even though he, unlike most people, understood the full implications of a thing contaminated with blood, he found himself getting even more impatient as she held the pill up to her face to inspect it more closely. To occupy himself, he tucked his knife back into his belt and transferred the half of the pill to his newly freed hand. With this done, he sniffed surreptitiously at the cut on his hand. After only minimal consideration, mostly of the chemical elements of the equation at hand, he began to lick at the blood seeping from the shallow cut. He swished it around in his cheeks, measuring the progress of the reaction by following the change of taste from acrid to bitter.
When Pagusel spoke to him instead of consuming the drug, he was taken by surprise. His mouth was full, and he was suddenly torn between two things: what he had intended to do and what he probably ought to do--that is, to either put the chemicals to use in a manner that would be considered rude by several cultures or to swallow what he had been mixing in his mouth and respond immediately. His indecision contributed only further to an awkward delay.
Finally, after a few moments of agonizing consideration, he opened his mouth, allowing a cascade of red drool to descend upon his cut palm. Forming a fist, he massaged it into his skin. While he did this, he maintained eye contact with Pagusel, with the intent of letting her know that he hadn't forgotten her.
He opened his hand and inspected it. The thin cut had closed and healed. But before responding, he wiped the remnants of the bloody drool on Daq's leather lab coat, creating a long, purplish smear along its lapel.
"Yes, of course," he said, dropping the pill into his mouth. He crunched it in his teeth to allow it to dissolve faster. He savored the exotic, alkaline taste, that he believed to be virtually unique to the drug. He decided to risk it and speak while chewing.
"But like I said, it's just a simple sedative.. oh.. and I guess a bit of a pain--" He paused briefly to watch with dismay as a small blue chunk passed over his lips and began its parabolic descent out toward the hem of Pagusel's furs.
"--killer," he finished, swallowing hard.
When Pagusel spoke to him instead of consuming the drug, he was taken by surprise. His mouth was full, and he was suddenly torn between two things: what he had intended to do and what he probably ought to do--that is, to either put the chemicals to use in a manner that would be considered rude by several cultures or to swallow what he had been mixing in his mouth and respond immediately. His indecision contributed only further to an awkward delay.
Finally, after a few moments of agonizing consideration, he opened his mouth, allowing a cascade of red drool to descend upon his cut palm. Forming a fist, he massaged it into his skin. While he did this, he maintained eye contact with Pagusel, with the intent of letting her know that he hadn't forgotten her.
He opened his hand and inspected it. The thin cut had closed and healed. But before responding, he wiped the remnants of the bloody drool on Daq's leather lab coat, creating a long, purplish smear along its lapel.
"Yes, of course," he said, dropping the pill into his mouth. He crunched it in his teeth to allow it to dissolve faster. He savored the exotic, alkaline taste, that he believed to be virtually unique to the drug. He decided to risk it and speak while chewing.
"But like I said, it's just a simple sedative.. oh.. and I guess a bit of a pain--" He paused briefly to watch with dismay as a small blue chunk passed over his lips and began its parabolic descent out toward the hem of Pagusel's furs.
"--killer," he finished, swallowing hard.
...
Re: The hunt
Morax seemed to savor the taste of his own blood in much the same way certain connoisseurs did a fine wine. Pagusel's eyes narrowed uncomfortably as she watched him, as if tightening her expression somehow tightened the security of her entire body so that she might hold onto her own blood a bit better. She still made no greater move to defend herself.
His drooling was countered by a shift of Pagusel's gaze for the few moments it took him to wipe his hand. When she glanced back she saw his eyes were still on hers.
He chewed the half-pill up as if it were rock salt, and he started to speak with his mouth full, again. Pagusel didn't even wait for his sentence to be finished before she tucked her half of the pill between her upper and lower incisors. She bit it cleanly in half and then lifted her chin very slightly to tip the contents into the dark of her mouth. Her lips closed over the process hungrily; it was the most passionate display of any intent she'd made all evening.
Pagusel looked down to see a fleck of the chalky pill that had been in Morax's mouth light on her cloak. Her forehead showed a frown, and she patted the front of her garment firmly a few times in order to shake off the unwanted morsel. Her hands disappeared under the cloak and she shook it stiffly from inside. The sticky bit dislodged finally and landed without further incident on the ground between them.
She had been distracted by this event, and looked up at Morax curiously as the end of his sentence echoed in the silent air. Her cheeks tensed as she apparently sucked on the unfamiliar substance in her mouth. When she opened her mouth to speak, her words seemed colored by that intriguing alkalinity coating her tongue. "I . . . hope you didn't just say that the effect of this drug is to sedate and kill me," she said. She hadn't heard him correctly; his awkward caesura had led to a misunderstood phrase.
Oddly, her tone was flat and merely curious. She didn't seem particularly put out by the possibility of dying for the sake of this new drug. Perhaps she just possessed a practiced poker face.
His drooling was countered by a shift of Pagusel's gaze for the few moments it took him to wipe his hand. When she glanced back she saw his eyes were still on hers.
He chewed the half-pill up as if it were rock salt, and he started to speak with his mouth full, again. Pagusel didn't even wait for his sentence to be finished before she tucked her half of the pill between her upper and lower incisors. She bit it cleanly in half and then lifted her chin very slightly to tip the contents into the dark of her mouth. Her lips closed over the process hungrily; it was the most passionate display of any intent she'd made all evening.
Pagusel looked down to see a fleck of the chalky pill that had been in Morax's mouth light on her cloak. Her forehead showed a frown, and she patted the front of her garment firmly a few times in order to shake off the unwanted morsel. Her hands disappeared under the cloak and she shook it stiffly from inside. The sticky bit dislodged finally and landed without further incident on the ground between them.
She had been distracted by this event, and looked up at Morax curiously as the end of his sentence echoed in the silent air. Her cheeks tensed as she apparently sucked on the unfamiliar substance in her mouth. When she opened her mouth to speak, her words seemed colored by that intriguing alkalinity coating her tongue. "I . . . hope you didn't just say that the effect of this drug is to sedate and kill me," she said. She hadn't heard him correctly; his awkward caesura had led to a misunderstood phrase.
Oddly, her tone was flat and merely curious. She didn't seem particularly put out by the possibility of dying for the sake of this new drug. Perhaps she just possessed a practiced poker face.
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Daq Bekkar
- Citizen
- Posts: 369
- Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 8:49 pm
- Name: Daq Bekkar
- Race: Humanoid Construct
Re: The hunt
Morax chuckled at Pagusel's suggestion and smiled widely, exposing a devilishly large set of sharp teeth. "No," he whispered gruffly. "Nothing like that."
Breathing in sharply, his smile came to an abrupt end. It was replaced with a seemingly grave look.
"But," he said. "I would like to get down to businesss, ssooner or later."
Noticing the how his speech had begun to change into sibilant hissing, he tried to force himself to concentrate. Jamming his tongue behind his front teeth, Morax sucked the roof of his mouth loudly. The sedative had begun to take its effect on him.
"W-would you like to sssit?" He asked, indicating the chairs set around a table at the edge of his lab, cluttered with plates and the sticky leftovers of meals long past. "I.. I would like to sssit."
Morax made his way to the table, bobbing left and right, always snaking back in the other direction just when he seemed threateningly close to falling over or knocking into something. Holding heavily onto the edge of the table, one hand resting in a pool of some sort of syrup, he deposited himself into a chair. After slithering around for a few moments, he found a comfortable position with his head lying against the backrest. Lolling his head to the left, he looked to Pagusel.
"Come, Pagusss--" he started. He was interrupted by his head twitching to the right with such force that it almost knocked him out of the chair. When he looked back, his eyes seemed to have lost their luminescent yellow tinges.
"Pagusel," he said in a deeper, less playful tone. His face assumed a mournful, world-wearied look for just a few seconds, but this was soon replaced by a bright-eyed, wide smile--a smile filled with many sharp teeth.
"We have mucchh to disssscussss," Morax hissed. With his long tongue, he began to lick the syrup off of his hand.
Breathing in sharply, his smile came to an abrupt end. It was replaced with a seemingly grave look.
"But," he said. "I would like to get down to businesss, ssooner or later."
Noticing the how his speech had begun to change into sibilant hissing, he tried to force himself to concentrate. Jamming his tongue behind his front teeth, Morax sucked the roof of his mouth loudly. The sedative had begun to take its effect on him.
"W-would you like to sssit?" He asked, indicating the chairs set around a table at the edge of his lab, cluttered with plates and the sticky leftovers of meals long past. "I.. I would like to sssit."
Morax made his way to the table, bobbing left and right, always snaking back in the other direction just when he seemed threateningly close to falling over or knocking into something. Holding heavily onto the edge of the table, one hand resting in a pool of some sort of syrup, he deposited himself into a chair. After slithering around for a few moments, he found a comfortable position with his head lying against the backrest. Lolling his head to the left, he looked to Pagusel.
"Come, Pagusss--" he started. He was interrupted by his head twitching to the right with such force that it almost knocked him out of the chair. When he looked back, his eyes seemed to have lost their luminescent yellow tinges.
"Pagusel," he said in a deeper, less playful tone. His face assumed a mournful, world-wearied look for just a few seconds, but this was soon replaced by a bright-eyed, wide smile--a smile filled with many sharp teeth.
"We have mucchh to disssscussss," Morax hissed. With his long tongue, he began to lick the syrup off of his hand.
...
Re: The hunt
This was, for the most part, something with which Pagusel had much practice. Morax made a sound as he plucked at the roof of his mouth with a tongue that was presumably growing as listless as Pagusel's. She could also sense the dryness at the edges of her tongue as her salivary glands began to forget their purpose. In time, they might overcompensate, flooding her mouth with more saliva than natural processes would require. Pagusel gave a watery smile, because this ebbing and flowing of the body's capacity to maintain itself was a comfort, a reminder of the general relaxation this drug offered.
Pagusel walked after Morax very slowly, and thus retained her balance when he seemed about to lose his. She could handle her highs and lows. As her chin grew heavier, she allowed her muscles to sort this out themselves. Applying any presence of mind to the situation would only waste stress and cognitive power. Her chin settled lower, pointing towards her sternum. When she sat opposite Morax, she had to lift her eyes up to gaze at him from beneath lazy lids. The mess of the table would have bothered her greatly, but for the grace of this sedative.
As she settled in her chair, Pagusel found a different gaze meeting hers than that which she expected. It was fleeting, but the voice said her name with no slur and looked as sad as the trough of the slow, gentle wave that was Pagusel's mind under the influence. Morax snapped back more quickly than Pagusel would. She gripped the edge of her seat that the surface of the wood gave a quiet groan under her palm.
"Tell me," Pagusel began, "what you think I can do for you." Her chin sank a fraction of an inch lower, and her eyes compensated fluidly to keep Morax in her gaze.
Pagusel walked after Morax very slowly, and thus retained her balance when he seemed about to lose his. She could handle her highs and lows. As her chin grew heavier, she allowed her muscles to sort this out themselves. Applying any presence of mind to the situation would only waste stress and cognitive power. Her chin settled lower, pointing towards her sternum. When she sat opposite Morax, she had to lift her eyes up to gaze at him from beneath lazy lids. The mess of the table would have bothered her greatly, but for the grace of this sedative.
As she settled in her chair, Pagusel found a different gaze meeting hers than that which she expected. It was fleeting, but the voice said her name with no slur and looked as sad as the trough of the slow, gentle wave that was Pagusel's mind under the influence. Morax snapped back more quickly than Pagusel would. She gripped the edge of her seat that the surface of the wood gave a quiet groan under her palm.
"Tell me," Pagusel began, "what you think I can do for you." Her chin sank a fraction of an inch lower, and her eyes compensated fluidly to keep Morax in her gaze.