Home for Father

From Tenebrae
Revision as of 01:55, 21 August 2023 by Riptide (talk | contribs) (Created page with "<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> ==Log Info== *Title: Home for Father *Emitter: Aragos *Characters: Aragos, Gramarye, Xasany *Place: A bar in Alexandria</div> Aragos isn't sure what bar he's in. He's somewhere though, and the barkeeper has determined that he's had enough to drink. A fact that has Aragos blearily looking at the other man. "Come on. Just a few more." He says, his tone diplomatic and his expression imploring. "If you...")
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Log Info

  • Title: Home for Father
  • Emitter: Aragos
  • Place: A bar in Alexandria


Aragos isn't sure what bar he's in.

He's somewhere though, and the barkeeper has determined that he's had enough to drink. A fact that has Aragos blearily looking at the other man. "Come on. Just a few more." He says, his tone diplomatic and his expression imploring.

"If you can stand up under your own power, you're a lucky man, and I might be willing to sell you one under that condition." The bartender says.

Aragos looks at the other man suspiciously. "Fine." With that, the black-armored warrior attempts to climb to his feet; albeit slowly.

It could be any bar in all of Alexandria, but there's only one that could contain Aragos. It is this logical thread that sees Gramarye through to her daily agenda item to find and retrieve Aragos from his stupor, and the mannequin-like war golem succeeds relatively early in her search for the day after closing up shop when she steps inside and spots Aragos, her head pivoting to more directly look at him when she spots him out of the corner of her eye.

"Father. Please allow me to assist you." Gramarye's tones are, as ever, neutral, delivered in the polite young woman's voice. Her steps are heavy on the floor as she goes to walk behind Aragos, her arms oustretched in the event that Aragos falls.

Aragos steps away from his stool. He might actually have not tripped and fallen if not for the fact that Gramarye decides to make her appearance at that moment, and he glances toward her. The world swims. He starts to go down... And neatly falls into the grasp of Gramarye's outstretched hands. "Hey... Wha 'cha doin here?"

Gramarye's head pivots smoothly with Aragos's fall into her arms, and she lifts up the man with a surprising amount of strength--although perhaps maybe not surprising considering she is a construct, made of sturdier stuff than flesh and blood. "My shop is closed for the day, as per working hour protocol," Gramarye intones. "The next item on the daily agenda is to find Father. It took ten bars before I found you today."

She sets him back onto his feet. "Query: how many drinks have you had today, Father?"

The green-haired Gnome slips into the bar quietly, having a little trouble with the door as it sometimes 'sticks' in the jamb slightly, which causes the witch to grunt as she hauls it open. Grumbling only a little, she heads for the bar.

She pauses at the bar, seeing Aragos a few stools over being assisted by Gramarye.

"Hello Aragos, Gramarye. Have you both recovered well from the events a few nights ago? Been able to get the smell of zombie out of your nostrils and clothing? Really tends to cling to socks and boots, it seems."

Xasany hops up onto a stool there, and from the pack on her back, she retrieves a lidded mug, held closed by a few straps. "Could I have this filled with apple cider, please? I know it's not a size that you use here at the bar, but I'm willing to pay what you think it's worth, as long s it's fair, okay?" A gold coin is pulled from a purse on her belt, and she lays it on the bartop. After a few moments of consideration, the barkeep nods, taking the mug to fill.

Aragos grabs his stool to help steady himself, but manages to get his own feet under him with a little assistance. Helpfully provided by Gramarye as she inquires as to the number of drinks he's had. Numbers. He thinks a moment then waves his hand. "A few."

The bartender snorts. "He's had eight cups of whiskey here. Which is enough to get any man drunk twice over. He's lucky to be conscious, and he came in smelling of booze thick enough I'm willing to bet he started drinking elsewhere."

Aragos glares at the helpful bartender, who ignores him by attending to Xasany. She gets a little look, and Aragos leans against the bar offering her a wide friendly smile. "Hey little lady... Buy me a drink; this stiff won't serve me another."

A small hum comes from Gramarye, as well as the blinking of lights in her eyes. "Father, it is not recommended for you to exceed the drinking limit for humans. Even if drinks intended for recreational consumption contain a typically small amount of alcohol compared to the alcohol I keep in my workshop for sanitation purposes, it is still not recommended for your health and safety to over-consume these recreational drinks."

Another blink in her eyes. "Symptoms of alcohol poisoning include: nausea. Vomiting. Bodily pain. Trouble standing. Trouble moving. Death."

Her hand goes to Aragos' arm. "I do not want the last symptom to occur. Please limit yourself to nonalcoholic beverages for the rest of the evening. I will stay with you until you are ready to leave."

Her mug is returned, and change left on the bartop. Her nimble fingers quickly pick up the coins, the Gnome quickly counting. She eyes the barkeeping, an eyebrow raising, questioningly. The 'keep sighs, and drops another silver piece into her hand. Grinning, Xasany tucks the coins away. Her gaze takes in Aragos.

"Are you drinking to remember or drinking to forget. And... why? If I like your answer, I will buy you your last drink of the night. But if your poor daughter has to lug you home, there will be some unhappiness. So you'd better be able to walk."

The little witch eyes Gramarye a moment, and then looks back to Aragos. "Hmm, since I was present there with you and her, and I know what she was willing to risk to stand with you, I think I may not offer that last drink... she might beat me up!"

Aragos looks at Gramarye, his eyes harsh for a moment, but her sincerity is hard to argue with. "I"m not dying." He grumbles to her, his eyes falling to the hand on his arm. He stares at it for a long moment and then pats it with his free hand.

In fact, he looks about to say something when Xasany speaks up, offering to buy him a drink - something that rouses his hopes; only for her to dash them a moment later on the shores of worry that Gramarye might hurt her. "Gramarye? She's a good girl. Doesn't go getting people hurt on accident. Unlike some people." He hefts a sigh and leans himself against the bar. "I just... want it to not hurt for a while. Can't sleep."

"Are you in pain, Father?" Gramarye asks. Like before in the sewers, there's an undeniable mote of emotion there in her words. "I can take you to a healer to have you assessed. They can provide relief for the pain."

She looks at Xasany, head pivoting to the gnome. "I do not hurt people unless they provoke it--or if Father orders me to." She says this far more matter-of-factly.

"Oh, there is something bothering you?", she wonders of Aragos, before looking to Gramarye. "I can assist you in taking him home. We'll get him hydrated so he won't wake up with a headache."

The Gnome's lidded mug is sealed up, and safely stowed in her backpack. "I've a few alchemical things we can try, I also have a spell that may help you find some sleep." She lets out a sigh and looks to Gramarye. "I assumed violence is potentially on the menu because of how you view alcohol. You'd just said he was done drinking for the night, and here I am offering him one more. Instead, I now offer my assistance. If it's okay with you, Gramarye?"

Glancing back to Aragos, Xasany reaches out with a hang, to lightly pat Aragos' shoulder. "We'll get you feeling better. Are you willing to talk about it? Privately, I mean. As for sleep, if the alchemical agents, spell and exploring your pain doesn't help you sleep, I have a very effective sleeping agent. It's all natural, only one active ingredient. You'll probably want me over Gramarye to apply it, she's much stronger. Oh uh, it's a cast iron frying pan." Her grin is full of mischief, and her eyebrows waggle noticeably.

The dark-haired paladin winces as he glances at Gramarye. "Not the kind of pain that's in a body Gramarye. Nothing a healer can fix." He seems very certain about this, and perhaps far more lucid than a man as drunk as he must be has any right to be. He sighs when he realizes that he's not going to get his drink and looks at Xasany flatly.

"No insult meant miss, but I've met you what? Three times? Talk about it." He snorts. "I don't wanna remember it. Forget talkin'."

He moves away from Xasany's friendly touch and frowns more at her; shaking his head.

"I do not want to hit Father with a frying pan," Gramarye replies in a dead...pan manner to Xasany. "I will only do so if Father orders it."

Her head pivots to Aragos. "The sleeping agents that she offers may be helpful, but I would not suggest them in combination with a body that has already imbibed alcohol. Father, I suggest we sit and you and I 'share' a meal." This is a Gramarye-ism of hers--to share a meal is to stay in someone's company while they eat, as she does not, and cannot, eat food.

The Gnome gestures with her hands, nodding to Aragos. "No offense taken, I am simply offering assistance, but I understand if that feels intrusive to you. My intentions are honest, I assure you. Would you take a spell cast upon you then? It will simply put you to sleep, if you don't fight it. As long as you are in a quiet place, you should sleep. It's the best I can do, given the situation. Perhaps you could talk with Gramarye later, you trust her, right? Speaking about painful things can be cathartic."

Her gaze goes to Gramarye, and she smiles. "I am sorry, that was meant as humor, I am not going to bang someone on the head with a frying pan unless they are accosting me in some way and don't take no for an answer. If I don't turn them into a frog, that is. But the sleep spell won't interfere with the alcohol in his body, so it should be safe."

There's a grumpy sigh from Aragos as he cuts into Xasany's explanation of how a sleep spell works. "I don't want your fucking spell." He says, sounding irritable. "Told you I don't want to talk either."

Seems maybe he's in a foul mood after all. He takes a step away from the bar and half-stumbles. There's a person between him and the door. Someone he doesn't recognize. Some random guy. "'Scuse me." Aragos offers, and moves to step around, but the man grabs him by the arm and it's just... such the wrong thing to do. Fury pulses off of him in waves as he slowly and menacingly turns his purple eyes on this new source of aggravation.

The man grabbing Aragos by the arm sets Gramarye off. Her eyes turn crimson red and her voice drops an octave, just as they'd done before in the sewers. "Initiating combat module," she announces. "Objective: neutralize threat. Please cease touching Father immediately."

She takes a few heavy steps forward on the floor, her hand already raising to engage in something. In truth, however, this is also unusual. Would a war golem as emotionless (seemingly) as Gramarye stoop so quickly to a perceived threat?

The Gnome's expression goes blank, and she holds her hands up again in surrender. "Okay, suit yourself.", she says to Aragos. Glancing again to Gramarye, "Are you able to get him home without help? I have a spell which will bolster your endurance, if you've got a long walk ahead of you."

When the Golem's eyes start glowing red, Xas sighs, glancing to the door where someone grabs a hold of Aragos' arm. She leans her chin on her hand. "Well, this night just keeps getting better and better."

Aragos is one step from slugging the man on his arm when he hears Gramarye, and his eyes flicker to her; panic making his heart race. "Gramarye! You do not in- start combat mode for a bar brawl!"

The man touching Aragos blinks at Aragos's words. "Bar brawl? I just wanted to know the way to the bathroom!"

Aragos turns his eyes on the man and growls. "Then don't touch random strangers in a bar." He says a bit meanly. "Gramayre! Come on. Help me outside."

Gramarye's eyes suddenly flicker back to their normal dark color, and her voice swings back up to its normal register. "Exiting combat module," she states. And then she curtsies politely to the man. "Initiating social protocol. Reason: initiating combat module prematurely. I most humbly apologize for threatening your life. Please forgive me." It's said about as flatly and neutrally as she normally talks.

And then her head pivots over her shoulder. "The nearest bathroom is: twenty-four feet and six point five inches away from your vicinity. Please travel in a straight line and open the bathroom door to arrive safely at your destination. Enjoy your relief of bodily needs."

Another head pivot, this time to Xasany. "I am departing with Father," she states. "Thank you for your assistance."

Without further ado, she goes to Aragos and offers her arm and hand out to him. "Allow me to escort you out, Father." A hint of emotion there, another little waver in the voice.

"Well, that's a relief. Though sadly, I shall miss out on seeing if... hmm." She waves to the stranger, and then eyes the barkeep. "Hopefully that's as much excitement as you get here tonight. Thanks for the cider, take care eh?" The Gnome moves towards the door also, but gives the two ahead of her a polite amount of room. "You're welcome, Gramarye. I tried. Be well. Aragos, I hope you feel better soon. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Aragos takes Gramarye's arm. Leaning on it perhaps more than he should. Certainly more than he cares to, but the world is on a hinge and he's probably lucky he hadn't gotten into a fight because like this... It would have been rough to keep track of the guy he was fighting. Still, he looks almost disappointed when the man wanders off in the direction of the bathroom.

Outside it's a brisk night and Aragos stalls just outside the doors, looking at the stars and quietly admitting something to the golem at his side. "I have nowhere to go."

It's true, he doesn't have a room for tonight. He's been staying at bars and taverns and inns, but there's nothing for him now. He eyes Xasany as she comes out of the bar behind them, still looking like he's not overly pleased to see her. "Ain't nothing to fix little lady. Nothing left to take care of." He blinks and looks at Gramarye. "Well, maybe one... But damn if I'm up to the task."

Gramarye blinks herself, in that way that the light blinks in her eyes even though there's nothing she says to accompany it. Not until a moment later, when she says, "Father always has a room in my house. Your bed is clean and made already."

Revealing that she's kept the room that her father once slept in clean and tidy, even though he's passed on from this world--like she was waiting for him to return.

(And maybe in one measure, he has.)

Her head pivots to look at Xasany. "Goodbye, Xasany. Be well." It's a standard farewell, the sort that is entirely appropriate for a war golem like Gramarye to give. And then she turns back to Aragos.

"Please allow me to escort you to our home, Father." Our home. Said as normally as anything else. For her, it's obvious. He is Father. Her home is his home.

The Gnome shrugs at Aragos. "It sounds like you do have a place to stay. And if there is one thing left to take care of?" Xasany begins to float in the air, slowly rising upwards, "Put on your man-pants and stop being a coward, take care of that one more thing." That said, the little witch zips into the night air.

Aragos glares after Xasany, his purple eyes lit with momentary rage, but he has a far bigger problem... if one can call it a problem, at hand. He looks at Gramarye. And... He hadn't the heart to tell her. Hasn't the heart to do something that might hurt her. So he doesn't let her know that her words are breaking him down. That he feels like there's something dark and hungry eating away at the center of his chest.

It's not his house. Not his home. He has no right to it. Never will. It feels so wrong. He tries to put on a cheerful voice, letting her lead the way. "Yea. Lets go." It'll make her happy. It's the least he can do. The very, very least.

He's a terrible person.