Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Xoriah]

---

"Scotch." The bartender repeated, and pulled a bottle from under the bar, pouring the pale amber contents into a glass as Xoriah examined her very human-like reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

"My thanks." Xoriah lifted the glass and drained it, then set it back on the bar with a sigh, muttering under her breath. "Suppose I should have asked for the Scotch that isn't three-quarters water."

A nearly musical chuckle came from behind her. "Fair judgement, Delicia. But it's not likely you'd get it, even if you asked."

The heavyset bartender shot the man a hateful glare as he wiped down a glass behind the bar. Xoriah watched the stranger narrowly as he took the barstool next to her.

His hair fell in dark, careless waves over his shoulders. He wore only a black sarong and a pair of soft leather sandals, as the more tropical clime of Jhelom allowed for more freedom of attire, or lack thereof.

Xoriah looked him over, admiring his muscular physique. God bless the tropics. She smiled enticingly and leaned in to lift a beaded and runed pendant that lay against his olive-skinned chest. "So beautiful," she cooed. "Very...exotic." She lifted her smouldering amber gaze to meet his dark eyes.

"Thank you, Bella." He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "What is your name? I have not see you here before."

"Xoriah. And I've not been here often. Though if I'd known there was such as you here, I might have come more often."

"Never too late for that." He winked. "Agostino."

"Agostino." She repeated, allowing the name to linger on her tongue. A tattoo at the corner of his eye, and the wilting accent gave him the demeanour of a far-wanderer. But it was the fire in his eyes that caught her attention. He might be exactly the sort that Mikhaeil sought to populate his ludus. And it wouldn't break her heart to see this one around from time to time, either. The two made small talk for what had to be close to an hour, touching on his past as a fighter, a thief, a lover, and a wanderer. Finally, Xoriah resolved to make her move.

"Perhaps you'd consider a proposition, Agostino." Xoriah raked her fingers through her crimson waves as his gaze wandered down over her. "Not that kind of proposition."

He smiled - guilty, but not apologetic. "What is your proposition, Delicia?"

"You are already skilled in the art of fighting, aye?"

He nodded. "I am."

"Come to Stonegate and meet Mikhaeil. Train with him. You are a fighter now. With your effort and his guidance, you could be a god."
_________________
Come with me where chains will never bind you...all your grief at last, at last behind you. ~Les Miserables

[Agostino]

---

'A god,' she says. Agostino chuckled under his breath. Were it possible, I would have been one, years ago. On the other hand, what else have I to occupy my time? I would rather not die a petty thief and wanderer. What if I could make my mark upon the world this way?

He waited for the bartender to turn away to stack glasses, then reached over the bar and grabbed an unopened bottle from beneath the counter. Carelessly, he threw a handful of coins on the counter for his own drinks, and those of the lady with whom he'd shared the afternoon and most of a bottle of watered-down Scotch.

Pushing open the heavy wooden tavern door, he squinted into the late evening sun. He smiled as he found the silhouette he sought. Women don't dress that way where I come from, Delicia. But it captured my attention, and your words my interest. This may yet prove a worthwhile endeavor.