Mimic

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

Of all the things Zyrid wouldn't want to hear about, it was most certainly not Alex's story, her life. He would much prefer it over a Garituan poem of hardship, notorious for its monotone approach to conveying the already boring life of a Garit. He would, without a doubt, prefer her voice depicting a picture of experience over the tic tacking of a universal message of warning that his family were to meet in the next galactic convergence.

No, Zyrid would not allow her to slip away so easily, he would not leave his seat until he at least knew her place of birth, or maybe even her childhood.

"I insist, please. I am not afraid to be trusted in, neither am I reproachful of being denied access to your memory." Zyrid spoke with Alex's mind.

It made things more intimate, in a strange, probing manner.

"Reveal what you wish. I ask only that you tell me to be gone with the idea of knowing such things if you wish not for me to know, such things..."

He often found these conversations strange, not least because he heard his voice echoe between space and its echoing disoriented him so. Alex would likely handle the experience fine, though she would likely feel a rush as her mind decoded each syllable and sentence in a fraction of a second - unnervingly fast in comparison to conversation via vibrations.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

Zyrid held his eyes upon Alex's, she seemed to compress an urge as he watched, or perhaps she was pushing against a mental wall of some kind. Stuck, definitely stuck in something. Perhaps it was the viscous flow of thought that had caught her up in its stream, her mind fogged in his vision as the energy within her swayed away from her mind in the universes breeze. He smiled as she replied with her own question, as defensive as he had suspected it would seem.

"Tell me anything of everything. Or nothing at all!"

Zyrid laughed heartily at the strangeness of his own statement.

She could truly ask him to leave the subject null, he would mind not. It was simply his interest to increase his knowledge of life, it need not be as scientific and factual as the books he most often drowned in, her experiences and opinions would be suitable for his appetite. She was awkward it seemed, so he stopped staring and drank again, leaning back and taking a more relaxed and open stance, he knew in himself he was not the master of social interaction on a fling - least of all with someone relatively unknown.

Sup'

@Xaphine

Hello and welcome :)

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

Zyrid bent his legs, leaning his back into an arched stretch before he found himself sat upon an identical stool to the one Alex sat upon. The stool shivered once and then lay dormant, for this stool was his mimic companion, and of course a comfy seat. He rolled up his sleeves delicately, turning the leather and silk in the same motion, leaving a slight trim of silk at his elbow when he finished. Sipping once more from his glass, he felt the drink seep through his body and caused his eyes to flare once more.

At that Zyrid let out a great sigh of relief and push back his hair behind his ears. It had been a long while since he indulged on such mortal treasures as this, and a little while longer since he had a proper conversation with anyone but himself or a book. There are some books that can hold interesting conversation, though their enchanted nature proves to be a rigid master, leaving their responses repetitive and frustrating with time.

However, he had high hopes for this one sat opposite him, she seemed to be different. Though, admittedly, most material dwelling planoids are a unique variation in some manner. It was the internal flame of magic that interested him, suppressed but all the more powerful. Of course, it did not compare to the Gods or Zyrid himself, but those were tall orders indeed. He would be sure to uncover the source at whatever cost.

"So, Alex, tell me abut yourself."

Zyrid smiled complacently and looked almost to temper his drinking glass as he tapped his ring finger against it over and over, he looked into the females eyes and then at the space around him and then at his drink, switching focus so at not to seem rude. Eyes were important conveyors of interest and thus emotion. He was undoubtedly interested in her life story, in everyone's really, but he knew from personal experience that staring at someone is not the way to go about getting answers.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

I shall be posting some time in the morning (GMT) if all goes to plan - though it often does not, but expect me none the less, hooligans!

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

Purple is super hard to read on the basic grey the forum has behind it.
Fantastic images though.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

What was this Zyrid sensed? A burst of light, a spectrum of deep colours that wavered on the edge of Alex's being. A near aura like presence that brough confusion to his brow and a drip to his lips, his eyes narrowed for a moment.

She flirted, despite her obvious restraint, she seemed to be open for a relationship. Not, of course, that type of relationship which is commonly assumed. It was always hard for Zyrid to express his feelings and thoughts through mortal vocabulary, translations never quiet fitted. He knew himself however, that he only meant she was open to the new and the interesting - both of which Zyrid was.

New perhaps less so, but that is a vast and technical conversation that he was not willing to begin with himself at this time, he was too busy admiring the mortal form. She stared now, and her noticing this made her shift attention to a drink. A tough drink it looked too, simple and to the point.

Not unlike Zyrid was as he spoke to her.

May I join you? I like your company.

He was already prepared to conjure up another stool for him to sit upon, the chair on the floor was now gone as he clicked his fingers, returned behind the bar somewhere, unclear where. Either way it was out of the way, and it at least helped to clean the mark it had made, so he did so with a glance.

Zyrid no longer smiled widely, only slightly, elation fading into a fair acceptance of personality and reality in respect to Alex. He saw her power and her life, but he also saw her smile and felt comfortable in her presence - a rare trait for any mortal Zyrid has met.

He was sure they would get along proudly, as the sky and sea do at sunset.

Fantasy mercs? 1x1 {closed- see last post}

Closed.

Please, no more Pm's I'm only one human! And new at that.

Thank you for interest shown.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@timelord1101

Zyrid shifted from his position on his soft purple stool, adjusting his rear over its lush round surface. His hands and wrist rolled on the barside like a wave, picking up his frosted glass as they did, bringing it to his leathery lips.

Such a hurried bustle of souls and fleeting life had surrounded him that the appearance of Alex was a kind relief, the calm at the centre of a splash, her subtle smile as she passed. He saw in her mind that she was interested in him, not in the sporadic and deteriorating manner that most mortals have interest in another - rather an aspect of intrigue and perhaps a hint of lost fear.

Zyrid smiled himself, a moment after Alex had turned her back and started to a table on its own, pushed in the corner. She had missed his reciprocation, though he doubted it would ruin her day in the slightest. In fact, he would be sure to make her day spectacular. He did so with a flick of a thick drawn finger, that flung a wave of air her way.

As she took her seat, provocatively flinging her legs up and around onto the table, a cigarette suddenly in her delicate looking hands, the wisp of air struck the hind legs of her chair. The seat sweeping from beneath her, she fell toward the floor, time stretched across this moment as a person is stretched between their mind and their heart, and after a while her eyes widened.

Her body tensed and prepared, adrenaline or it's organic equivalent pumping forth from its gland, as force pulled her from the air. Her distress was ill placed however, as Zyrid no longer sat upon his stool. In fact, his stool was beneath Alex's body, and she struck it lightly, pressing into the comforting material as she landed.

Zyrid called to her as she found herself upon his tool, her original seat striking the ground with a shrieking crack, he smiled wildly, widely, wisely. She was confused in this instant, but the beauty of confusion is the absense of right and wrong, and morale grey was often funny - at least to Zyrid.

"Is this what people do around here, steal others stools?"

Fantasy mercs? 1x1 {closed- see last post}

@The Elvenqueen

Anything for a golden coin hehe ;)