π²πππ πΆππ πΎππ ππ π―πππππ [w/ Ebuei]
Jul 27, 2018 13:18:59 GMT -5
Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Jul 27, 2018 13:18:59 GMT -5
Noah Wright, K.M.
Dark Sentinel. Status: Alive, injured. Unbonded.
This was probably one of his worst ideas in a long while. It wasn't as if the fugues were just going to go away, but after the weeks he had had to endure, he supposed he deserved a drink. All around him were unfamiliar faces, voices loud and boisterous even though they were contained to their own area. The booths in any self respecting sentinel and guide establishment made sure that groups of sentinels and guides could be in their own space to avoid any unnecessary conflict outside of the drunk bouts of fisticuffs that still saw the light of day from time to time. It was the only smart thing to do considering that sentinels valued their territory and any trespass into their space uninvited would lead to bloodshed.
That was how he found himself occupying an entire booth to himself, isolated from other bar goers and contemplating his third glass of Between the Sheets. An ironic name, all things considered. Abraham had left him not even three weeks ago and here he was with a glass of Between the Sheets. He huffed a soft laugh, as he shifted into the comfortable, silk lined cushions trying to make himself uninteresting to any troublemakers. He smelled of medication and blood and he knew the other sentinels in the area could sense it too.
The last thing he wanted was for news of an injured dark sentinel to go around. He had just managed to escape on threat on his life and he was damn sure he deserved this little victory drink at the very least. Or was it a pity party? The lines seemed to blend together anyhow, so he wasn't quite concerned about the specifics.
It was the volume that was grating on his nerves more than anything else. It seemed like nobody here had a concept of privacy and even the unbonded sentinels and guides were enjoying themselves. He supposed if it had been a few years back, that would have been him. Abraham had been a power guide, not strong enough to bond with him and handle him, but enough to ground him in their lingering touches that never went beyond that. He couldn't do that to Abraham though the guide insisted it would be fine considering that his own sentinel was nothing more than a friend. Abe had gone as far as to call her a sister in all but blood.
Well, now, without Abe, the fugues were back stronger than they had ever been. He had been in relationships with other sentinels and guides before because then it had meant nothing. With Abe it had meant everything and he had wanted to take it slow and now he was one husband and son less. It felt like he had lost his heart and soul. And they hadn't even been bonded. He couldn't imagine what that would have been like.
Taking a long drink, he placed the now half empty cocktail onto the table and sighed. He had washed his hands of this lifestyle four years back and still it had found a way to take everything from him. Frowning at his reflection in the cup, he wasn't even sure where he was going to start. The Moore legacy that he once upheld and revered was nothing but a name left in the dust. A pathetic tale of the "untimely" death of a prime alpha that left a open wound in the council that would be dueled for.
He had been part of something big that had costed his father his life and had nearly killed him as well. And it had been something that was a result of his father's method of rule. His father was a respectable man worthy of fear. It was seen in the way he held himself and the prowess he held in battle, but his mistake was that he had been replaceable. They wouldn't find another dark sentinel like he and his father for awhile, if ever, but they would find someone strong and proud and bold. Perhaps the same person who had ordered the hit.
For once, all the outside stimulus was just white noise as the cogs in his mind turned. What he needed wasn't to be reputable and respectable. He needed to be more than just that, he needed to be irreplaceable. Esteemed and trusted. That was a starting place, but as with all things he had to have a reputation first. And whereas Kingsley Moore would have had no problem, he was just Noah Wright now.
He had the funds for whatever he would need to do, but he needed more than that. Manpower and a name was also a necessity. And that required usable people. Not just pawns, but actual skilled professionals with the ability to back up his abilities with their own. A deadly force to be reckoned with. Running his tongue against his teeth, he savored the after taste of the alcohol briefly before taking another drink from his cocktail. And then it seemed everything had changed in a moment.
The quiet that he had been able to induce with his plans had been almost reminiscent of the Mute back at his house. It was breathtaking and sudden and powerful and he wasn't even sure of what had hit him. One moment, the glass was in his hand and the next it had slipped from his grasp and spilled all over the table. Luckily it hadn't been high enough for the glass to shatter, but there was alcohol dripping over the edge of the table, landing on his lap. But it was overpowered by a feeling of strong desire to find the source of that aura.
Despite the uncomfortable sticky wetness on his thigh, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than the owner of that aura. It was enticing in a way he never thought possible. It called to him like an old friend he never even knew he had. It was strange but still, it felt right somehow. Taking several deep breaths to call the beating of his heart, he stood up from the booth, spilled cocktail and glass forgotten. They were in here. It was surprising he hadn't noticed them earlier, but then again he hadn't been looking nor trying to survey his surroundings despite his better knowledge.
He had just relaxed into the setting, not quite wanting to get into trouble but not trying to avoid the trouble that followed him either. He had just wanted to let loose for one evening, to not care about anything and he was hit by this. It seemed to radiate around the bar area, though he wasn't quite sure who he was looking for, he pressed on around the crowd of strangers attempting their bad pickup lines and awkward socialization before he caught glimpse of figure that he was sure had to be the source.
He didn't waste any time with hesitation, knowing that his senses had never failed him before, he headed over. He wondered if they felt his presence the way he felt theirs. The other was smaller than him, but they were undoubtedly a guide. They didn't hold themself like a sentinel, but in the dim lighting of the bar, even with his enhanced eyesight he couldn't make out much other than the silhouette of their body and facial expressions without finding a better angle that was just going to make this bold approach into something a little more creeper-like.
"Hello," he said, his voice warm. A small smile played on his lips, "Would you mind some company?"
It was strange, but a small voice in the back of his head hoped that the stranger would say yes. If it was just him who was pulled to them then what did that mean? What would he make of that? He wasn't sure what he wanted to accomplish but the draw of magnetism that this guide exuded was surprising and he wanted to know more. After all, curiosity killed the cat.
That was how he found himself occupying an entire booth to himself, isolated from other bar goers and contemplating his third glass of Between the Sheets. An ironic name, all things considered. Abraham had left him not even three weeks ago and here he was with a glass of Between the Sheets. He huffed a soft laugh, as he shifted into the comfortable, silk lined cushions trying to make himself uninteresting to any troublemakers. He smelled of medication and blood and he knew the other sentinels in the area could sense it too.
The last thing he wanted was for news of an injured dark sentinel to go around. He had just managed to escape on threat on his life and he was damn sure he deserved this little victory drink at the very least. Or was it a pity party? The lines seemed to blend together anyhow, so he wasn't quite concerned about the specifics.
It was the volume that was grating on his nerves more than anything else. It seemed like nobody here had a concept of privacy and even the unbonded sentinels and guides were enjoying themselves. He supposed if it had been a few years back, that would have been him. Abraham had been a power guide, not strong enough to bond with him and handle him, but enough to ground him in their lingering touches that never went beyond that. He couldn't do that to Abraham though the guide insisted it would be fine considering that his own sentinel was nothing more than a friend. Abe had gone as far as to call her a sister in all but blood.
Well, now, without Abe, the fugues were back stronger than they had ever been. He had been in relationships with other sentinels and guides before because then it had meant nothing. With Abe it had meant everything and he had wanted to take it slow and now he was one husband and son less. It felt like he had lost his heart and soul. And they hadn't even been bonded. He couldn't imagine what that would have been like.
Taking a long drink, he placed the now half empty cocktail onto the table and sighed. He had washed his hands of this lifestyle four years back and still it had found a way to take everything from him. Frowning at his reflection in the cup, he wasn't even sure where he was going to start. The Moore legacy that he once upheld and revered was nothing but a name left in the dust. A pathetic tale of the "untimely" death of a prime alpha that left a open wound in the council that would be dueled for.
He had been part of something big that had costed his father his life and had nearly killed him as well. And it had been something that was a result of his father's method of rule. His father was a respectable man worthy of fear. It was seen in the way he held himself and the prowess he held in battle, but his mistake was that he had been replaceable. They wouldn't find another dark sentinel like he and his father for awhile, if ever, but they would find someone strong and proud and bold. Perhaps the same person who had ordered the hit.
For once, all the outside stimulus was just white noise as the cogs in his mind turned. What he needed wasn't to be reputable and respectable. He needed to be more than just that, he needed to be irreplaceable. Esteemed and trusted. That was a starting place, but as with all things he had to have a reputation first. And whereas Kingsley Moore would have had no problem, he was just Noah Wright now.
He had the funds for whatever he would need to do, but he needed more than that. Manpower and a name was also a necessity. And that required usable people. Not just pawns, but actual skilled professionals with the ability to back up his abilities with their own. A deadly force to be reckoned with. Running his tongue against his teeth, he savored the after taste of the alcohol briefly before taking another drink from his cocktail. And then it seemed everything had changed in a moment.
The quiet that he had been able to induce with his plans had been almost reminiscent of the Mute back at his house. It was breathtaking and sudden and powerful and he wasn't even sure of what had hit him. One moment, the glass was in his hand and the next it had slipped from his grasp and spilled all over the table. Luckily it hadn't been high enough for the glass to shatter, but there was alcohol dripping over the edge of the table, landing on his lap. But it was overpowered by a feeling of strong desire to find the source of that aura.
Despite the uncomfortable sticky wetness on his thigh, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than the owner of that aura. It was enticing in a way he never thought possible. It called to him like an old friend he never even knew he had. It was strange but still, it felt right somehow. Taking several deep breaths to call the beating of his heart, he stood up from the booth, spilled cocktail and glass forgotten. They were in here. It was surprising he hadn't noticed them earlier, but then again he hadn't been looking nor trying to survey his surroundings despite his better knowledge.
He had just relaxed into the setting, not quite wanting to get into trouble but not trying to avoid the trouble that followed him either. He had just wanted to let loose for one evening, to not care about anything and he was hit by this. It seemed to radiate around the bar area, though he wasn't quite sure who he was looking for, he pressed on around the crowd of strangers attempting their bad pickup lines and awkward socialization before he caught glimpse of figure that he was sure had to be the source.
He didn't waste any time with hesitation, knowing that his senses had never failed him before, he headed over. He wondered if they felt his presence the way he felt theirs. The other was smaller than him, but they were undoubtedly a guide. They didn't hold themself like a sentinel, but in the dim lighting of the bar, even with his enhanced eyesight he couldn't make out much other than the silhouette of their body and facial expressions without finding a better angle that was just going to make this bold approach into something a little more creeper-like.
"Hello," he said, his voice warm. A small smile played on his lips, "Would you mind some company?"
It was strange, but a small voice in the back of his head hoped that the stranger would say yes. If it was just him who was pulled to them then what did that mean? What would he make of that? He wasn't sure what he wanted to accomplish but the draw of magnetism that this guide exuded was surprising and he wanted to know more. After all, curiosity killed the cat.