Of An Endless Winter, He Dreams

[Die Shize]

NOTICE

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Continued from: http://www.thestarwarsrp.com/forum/...-endless-winter-he-dreams.83727/#post-1456290

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Karl watched as the tall shot glass was taken to the woman’s lips; one fell swoop as fatal for the drink as an axe that bit the back of a neck. Whether fatal for the drinker was a question yet to be answered, till a telltale sign seemed to emerge in a countenance that contested with exposure. The Firebeard was not for the faint of heart; something a person might dare to drink on the front end or the back end, or anywhere in the middle—no time was better than now or never. Yet, regardless of any previous doses and dances on her part, the woman held her drink. Karl made sure to not let his impression show on his face beyond a smile that couldn’t stretch past an inch, his eyes embedded in hers.

Just then, her hand grabbed his own; more of a rock than a hand. Karl felt the tight grip and gave into it, responding with the same strength that one Deucalian would ask from another. An iron grip. Hers is the strength of a thousand. Her first name gave way, a simple nothing as much and as less as his own forename, but her second name revealed everything that Karl had already reasoned. A thousand in one. A Valengard. It took a moment before he realized that their hands might have been held a little longer than comfort commanded. He withdrew his arm but not his gaze, suddenly seeing himself reflected in her own. What is fate that a Deucalian cannot kill?

“My clan name means little in this cantina, less on this planet,” Karl spoke plainly, breaking eye contact for as long as it took to glimpse the patrons and servers around the bar with a warrior’s wariness. He glanced at his own crew who had since lost interest and sat in their booth trading laughter. When he looked back, two fresh Firebeard’s thudded upon the counter. He didn’t reach for his yet. “Yours, on the other hand, is a story wrapped up in the tails of tales. Which one brought you to The Dire Wolf?” Karl could only wonder. This little joint on Nal Hutta catered to Deucalians first and foremost, the White Wolves in particular, so if a Vanguard Valengard was here then it was likely on business. Even if it’s the clandestine business of reminiscing on a name whose time withers with the wind of the Deucalians.

@Herrith

 

[Herrith]

Käte was about to remove her hand when Karl did so. That was a relief. Certainly one less concern she'd have to worry about...for now. She listened while the Deucalian both attempted to humble himself and place her family name onto quite the pedestal. The Valengard looked away and waved her hand dismissively, scoffing while he ended his flattery. She shifted her weight to one foot, thinking on how exactly she HAD gotten here. A myriad of possibilities, all overthought and underdeveloped. Käte fell back on her prior thoughts. Just here to find a break, perhaps a sentiment her ancestors may have resented. Had they been around to care, that is. She scratched her tattoo and tucked her braids aside again.

"I seek...retirement from the present. A break, to put it plainly. Yet you overstate my clan, inflate the ego of those that came before me. I'm not much to marvel, in honesty."

She shrugged as she said this, lifting up her second shot and looking at it with a blank expression that may have been identifiable as distaste. Though the Valengard left her true thoughts of the drink jaded. May as well find some way to relax, rather than end up kicked out of this establishment for being ungrateful and grating.

 

[Die Shize]

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Karl smiled at Käte’s answer. ‘Retirement from the present’. That’s a phrase that will stick. Yet his amusement stretched with the corners of his lips at her interpretation of his own words. Sometimes irony slipped between his lips and left him wondering which side to take. The warrior in him venerated other warriors and the wars they waged. The lost and forsaken vagabond that he felt he had become, however, made such wars and their champions sound like little more than a cruel joke.

As she lifted up her glass to study it, Karl afforded himself the opportunity to study her. It was hard to tell if she was just covering up her kin as much as she had covered up her shoulder or if there was a hole in her heart where a family used to be, not so different from his own. Whatever it was, whatever she was looking for, it was apparent by her expression that she wasn’t going to find it in the glass in front of her.

“Ego comes from one’s self. Reputation comes from one another. When it comes to your family name, well, you don’t fight in a front line to bathe yourself in glory unless you’re ready to bathe yourself in blood. The songs say that the Valengards did just so.”

Songs, of course, often neglected the lyrics that told the whole truth. The truth that took a small clan and made it smaller. Karl waited a moment to see what kind of expression those new words might have yielded. Then it was his turn to shrug. “Nonetheless, I did say the tails of tales.” His head turned toward the group of Baldrs still caught up in their drunken jig before returning his gaze to Käte. “Clan Baldr may be a body of recognition, but a warrior loves a good story about an everyday Deucalian who meets the enemy with blade and helm. I heard yours as a child. On that note, your clan and mine share something in common.”

 

[Herrith]

Käte half-listened while the man before her continued to explain his reasons for praising her name. She understood most of it, but then again her Basic could have been failing and she was completely misinterpreting his points. She set the glass down, holding back on the spirits as long as he did. Paying respect to his willingness to pay for her drinks was a rather bright idea..considering his large 'following' a table away. Not that he would be that kind of person, but better safe than sorry. The Valengard let out a slight sigh as Karl finished his long speech. She locked eyes with him as he finished, shifting slightly and responding briefly.

"The fancy talk is hurting our understanding."

That was about as kindly as she could put it, at least in Basic. Her expression remained neutral. Käte was just stating fact, that she couldn't keep up with such complexity in a second language. It vexed her, and ideally Karl would halt or halve his eloquence. She finally decided to respond to his comment about their clans being similar, opening her mouth again after choosing her words.

"And what exactly would that be? It's not the hair."

 

[Die Shize]

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Karl chortled at the question and the comment attached to it. Blond hair was certainly no rarity among Deucalians, or any other species for that matter, but a sense of humor in a galaxy of death went either way among those who might die with their eyes open. This other Deucalian seemed as reserved as realistic to her reality. Sometimes that recognition really does make everything a cruel joke.

“No, not the hair. Not the eyes. Not the death or the violence bridled to our shared culture and heritage.” There was a short pause as Karl looked away toward his Firebeard, turning it upon the bartop as his mind turned a memory that came with an engine’s hum and the strong voice of a proud warrior who put his son to sleep with tales of carnage and conquest. “We were one ship, one crew, but the Brynjars took the fight to the enemy all on our own.”

He looked back at Käte. “And here I am. Brynjar beside Valengard. Our kin have left us for death, in battle or upon the bed, and here we are, two of the last ones left.” Fingers finding a firm grip on the glass, Karl raised it. “To the vanguards who have fallen at the front lines—and the clans who unleashed them.”

He held his glass up for her response, waiting, watching and wondering.

 

[Herrith]

Oh, so that made much more sense. Käte nodded in understanding. Brynjar. She'd maybe heard stories...a couple scattered tales. She wasb't much for stories, anyways. Ever since she'd joined the ranks of many a commoner, she'd never found the time to look for new ones, either. No contact with many Deucalians in a short while...so this was perhaps about as pleasant things could have been, meeting another Deucalian. At least it wasn't a Baldr...or a Bleedenstag...or worsez she took her glass as Karl called for a toast.

"To them."

Käte stared at her drink for a moment before downing it with a wince, not wanting to hesitate and make the taste seem that much more foul in her mouth. The Valengard wasn't much for alcohol, anyways.

 

[Die Shize]

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Karl caught himself sharing in his drinking partner’s hesitation, watching her while she watched her drink. Was that a look of reflection he saw on her face? Remembrance? Doubt? Was he alone in his own? In a galaxy filled with quadrillions of individuals, sometimes loneliness felt like a paradox, much like the very people whom he had been born into and grown up with. To the dead, alive in minds and hearts, but no less dead. Both glasses found lips and the Deucalians drank to the fallen, for whatever the gesture was worth. Karl’s glass thudded back upon the bartop, but he held up a hand to politely dismiss the bartender as the latter moved for a refill. Karl wagered that Käte was also in no hurry for another round, but if so then maybe she just might get the next one.

It was at that moment that his ears pricked up at the change in tune from the cantina’s speakers. The horn, the drums, the uncanny gnarling—the whole song was recalled in an instant. A contested toast became a bygone memory as Karl pushed his troubles to the back of his mind, smiling at the music. His fingertips were drumming on the counter a moment before he realized that they were moving to the beats.

“Jötunheimr. Good song.” His tone was more evocative than informative. Just as well, Käte may have been no stranger to the song herself. Karl kept his gaze on the floor between their stools as though trying to pierce it and see the worlds hidden beneath. “Land of the Jötunn. The survivors of the world’s creation, sailing on a sea of blood… Little wonder how the Deucalians found our way with the more fantastical tales and songs of how our world found itself…”

Catching his mind drifting off onto another plane, Karl blinked his gaze back up toward Käte, his fingers no longer an instrument. “My father also told me the stories of the giants and the trolls. Ha, I never thought them true until I met a Mandallian and a Rancor!”