Part 10 - The party

The boy01/21/2020

Thomas's calling card came with a large, black bird, cawing loudly, with silver painted talons. It held the cards in its beak, and dropped them when the bandaged got too close. Two cards. It had a red and black wax seal on the back, of a crow holding holly in its beak. The card was neatly decorated with gold leaf, each card had a personal invitation for both Able, and the Bandaged Man. It indicated a time, and a place(his place) and to merely bring themselves and nice dress clothes. ---- When walking atop the rooftops of spite, there was a convenient ladder where there was once not, set against the edge of the building for easy access.

Able: ooohhh, watch out... Its a whole ladder.

they01/21/2020

The bandaged man is dressed in a simple black robe (eyes stitched into the collar and teeth going round their neck to look like a strange jagged collar) scowls, holding their head very high such that they're looking upwards.

The Bandaged: Hm? Where? What's that?

The bandaged man stands on the top step of the ladder, looking up; they suddenly jump off of the top step, sliding down the wooden ladder sharply as their hands slide along the side, screaming to Able and being distressingly loud (isn't this place supposed to be secret?).

The Bandaged: I don't see anything!

The boy01/21/2020

Able looks unamused, staring down at the bandaged man. He would yell at him but that would be pointless. He just waits for them to reach the ground, and starts heading down properly.

---

Inside Thomas winces, hearing the bandaged man from outside. He wondered if this was a mistake to invite him. He was still cleaning and making sure all the food, drinks, and extra chairs were all in place around the room. Even with Virgil already there, he figured that they wouldn't need to fuss over him so much.

January 22, 2020

they01/22/2020

The deacon is seated in their lounge chair, sitting up primly with their hands politely crossed on their laps.

Virgil: . . .may I ask why you invited the bandaged one? He's not a direct client of yours, if I'm recalling correctly.

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas sighs, sitting up from wiping the floors clean to look at the deacon, his sleeves rolled up as to not ruin his shirt.

Thomas: He's very recently.... Become one. Turns out he can't get everything through you.

Thomas returns to the floor, making sure all of the cleaning solution was wiped up and the floor was dry before putting those away, moving to dusting next.

they01/22/2020

The deacon raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in their seat.

Virgil: Hm. He pays well, but I don't know if being paid in diamonds is worth having to tolerate their-

The door to Thomas's house suddenly rattles on the hinges, shaking wildly for a moment before the wooden door pounds repeatedly.

Virgil: . . .presence. The Bandaged: Agh, blast! Why won't this infernal thing. . .Able! Get the kifers again, I think it's locked!

The door pounds several times, rather loudly; the bandaged man is kicking the door, a manic energy entering their voice.

The Bandaged: Oy! Why invite us if you're just gonna lock us out!?

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas looks annoyed and goes to open the door, but it opens, with Able making an overly sarcastic demonstration on how doors work.

Able: You have to turn it.

Able turns the doorknob slowly. Looking at the bandaged.

Able: Doors aren't going to just pop open for you

they01/22/2020

The bandaged man huffs, kicking the door one last time and making it pull out of Able's grip and slam into the wall.

The Bandaged: Well they should! Thomas, my child, if you ever need to have your doors upgraded, you know who to talk to.

The bandaged man grabs the door, pushing Able into the room before slamming it behind them.

The Bandaged: Never shall you have to exert pointless effort to have one's abode open to himself or herself! With a single scar, you can open all your doors without assistance on your part!

The deacon leans back in their chair, pulling their glasses off for a moment and pinching the bridge of their nose.

Virgil: . . .Thomas, I hope you don't intend to permit his ordinary conduct during this. . .cordial. . .mingling..

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas takes Able away from the bandaged, pointing them towards the food. Able is happy to flee this loud man. Thomas then points at the bandaged.

Thomas: Now, sir. I will have to ask you to keep your voice down. Lest you get stuck with poor wine.

they01/22/2020

The bandaged man's expression curls downwards; even under bandages, one gets an air of sourness (which, ironically, brings to mind the bitterness of spoilt wine).

The Bandaged: -Lowering their volume.- . . .doors are a construction of polite society anyways. . .

The bandaged man shuffles over to a nearby seat, slumping down over it; their legs and head are hanging over opposite armrests while their midriff lies in-between, and, despite the uncomfortable position, they slump and arm lazily over the backing of the seat.

The Bandaged: So. . .this is a rather dull party, if it's just four people.

The deacon is cleaning their glasses with a small handkerchief, but they pause, slightly squinting their eyes before resuming to clean.

Virgil: . . .I believe that there are more guests arriving.

The deacon puts on their glasses, before clasping their hands a little too tightly.

Virgil: . . .late. The Bandaged: Ah, right. You come on time; meanwhile, I know that one arrives precisely when they ought to. It makes waves, you see!

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas quickly sets down a tea tray between the two men, and then heads to Able to hand him a drink.

Thomas: Now, you're doing good so far but your hair.....hmmm..

Able looks confused, and then up, then back at Thomas.

Able: What's wrong with it? Thomas: Hmm... A little.... too unkempt... Ah, but it isn't a formal dinner, you should be ok!

Thomas continues his dusting as Able goes to sit over next to the Bandaged man, Thomas having set up extra plain wooden chairs around the table to indicate if you wanted to sit, you could.

Able: Isn't.... Aren't you supposed to be on time?

they01/22/2020

The bandaged immediately leans forward, inspecting the teacakes and rusks set out on the tea tray.

The Bandaged: Ah! Now you've got my attention, dear Thomas!

The bandaged man immediately grabs some rusks, breaking them (scattering crumbs in the process) and putting the pieces into their mouth. Meanwhile, the deacon, crinkling their nose slightly, pulls out their handkerchief, cleaning the table of crumbs on their side of the table.

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas taps the bandaged's ankle on his way past to prepare drinks for coming guests.

Thomas: Legs down.

Thomas has several bottles out, each being poured into a tall glass. Thomas mixes the deacon a viscous brandy with two different bottles, resealing the swirling one before setting it on the table in front of the deacon.

Thomas: I'll bring by more if he gets out of control.

they01/22/2020

The deacon sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose briefly before grabbing the tall glass, lifting it off the table without a sound and without the liquid inside sloshing around at all.

Virgil: An imprudent means to placate a priest. . .

The deacon raises the glass to their lips, pausing before the rim touches their lips.

Virgil: . . .yet, a welcome respite.

The deacon takes a long draught from their glass, the thick, oily liquid slowly draining before they set it down. Meanwhile, the bandaged man ignores Thomas, keeping their legs raised on the seat as they keep consuming the teacakes and speaking between partial bites.

The Bandaged: This is incredibly comfortable, tho'gh; you shou'h try it, sometime. . .

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas is putting the bottles up before returning to the table, a single glass of brandy. It smells strong, Able covers his nose even from across the table.

Thomas: Come now, let's see you properly drink this, hm?.

they01/22/2020

The bandaged man tilts their head up from their lounging.

The Bandaged: . . .that's. . .

The bandaged man props themselves up, staring at the glass Thomas is holding but still lying fairly flat across the armrests of the chair.

The Bandaged: . . .ohoho. . .is that. . .barrel aged?

The bandaged man sits up in their chair, kneeling and leaning forward over the armrest, their hands gripping the armrest while the lounge chair teeters.

The Bandaged: _. . .is it real? It's not. . .it's not watered down, or anything?

While the bandaged man enthuses over the drink Thomas is bringing, the deacon has their head tilted slightly towards where Able is sitting every time they take a swig (which is rather frequently, given the bandaged man's proximity to them); though Able can't tell where they're glancing, he can feel the sensation of being watched.

.

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas holds up the glass, and holds the chair with another.

Thomas: Now now, I would never water down a drink. If you want this though you will have to behave. Perhaps later I'll show you the rest of my stock.

Able is trying not to stare at the deacon, but there's no where to really look, so he settles on the wall next to him, a bookshelf is there. He counts the items, trying not to panic.

.

they01/22/2020

The bandaged man tuts. . .

The Bandaged: Why, how scandalous; bribing a respectable man with the promise of wine? I shan't allow myself to be persuaded.

. . .before righting their posture, sitting up in the chair.

The Bandaged: . . .officially speaking, anyhow. . .

The bandaged man slips another piece of rusk, pulling it to their face and nibbling on the piece and making a mess (although they seem to be making more of a conscious effort to avoid spilling crumbs on the floor, at least). Meanwhile, the deacon lowers their cup, setting the partially emptied glass onto the table and sitting up properly, linking their hands on the table. They turn their head towards Able, their face inscrutable as they speak.

Virgil: . . .we've met before in passing, if, however briefly; and yet, I don't think I've ever caught your name.

The deacon grabs their glass, lifting it slightly to their lips.

Virgil: How are you named, then?

The boy01/22/2020

Thomas happily sets the glass down in front of the bandaged man. Thomas still wasn't sure who respected this man, but he's certainly paying well.

Thomas: Of course, sir.

Able looks at the deacon, making the worst fake smile Thomas had ever seen. Amused, and seeing no current issues, let Able deal with it and went back into the kitchen. Able finds himself struggling to figure out a name.

Able: ... I....ch.....m.......h........I don't remember.

Thomas, turns away, almost laughing, but covers his mouth.

.

they01/22/2020

The deacon sips from their glass before lowering it, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil: Ah. A spontaneous amnesiac.

The deacon places their glass on the table, their fingers curling together as their linked hands rest on the edge of the table.

Virgil: Supposing that to be true, I find it strange that you haven't given yourself a name as of yet, if only to make chatting less cumbersome; I can't imagine the struggle that exists in being called "a nameless man", or perhaps "an untitled youth". . .unless you lost your mind mere moments before? In which case, accept my condolences, young man..

The boy01/22/2020

Able feels confused and takes a sip of his drink, looking away. He is glad it was not alcoholic, but it was still strong. He refuses to answer. Then a knock at the door, before several people walk in, a zee captain, a man looking a bit too smug, and a couple rough looking people. Thomas goes to greet them, offering them drinks and talking about several things. Seems the party was starting.

The boy01/22/2020

---

The party was indeed starting, people starting to break off into little groups as Thomas fussed over everyone while stealth cleaning whatever messes they made. Thomas was able to steal away Able from his seat to get him some food. He looked really nervous, but he did find it amusing how easily he squirmed around the deacon. Of course.... most people seemed to. Everyone was a bit too polite to say anything, but they gave the deacon space when he walked around. Was it for respect? Or fear? Thomas knew it was likely both. Regardless he had a whole meal set out for anyone to take, meats and baked goods, cakes and boiled treats. He had more foods in the storage in case he ran out. Disregarding the Bandaged man's previous behavior, a few of the guests seemed amused by his outbursts. (Or they too knew who he was)

January 24, 2020

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man is sitting in one of the lounge seats in the corner, their shoulder up against the wall; they're raising a small brandy glass covered in facets to a woman whose hair is curled from the salts of the Zee, the glass perilously close to spilling in their loose grip.

The Bandaged: Now. . .now, you see, you ought to come by Port Carnelian when I have the governor's term. . .those lions are a riot. . .I know the ministers, y'know. . .very pleasant folks. At least, after I beat them up. . .do you know, they ate one of my crewmen? I had to whack him on the neck to get 'im to spit him out. . .heh. . .

The deacon, meanwhile, is seated at the opposite corner (having not moved at all since they've arrived); though they're taking more modest sips from their glass now, their posture is a tad looser. However, what they lost in a slightly slumped back is more than made up by their unsettling peering at the menagerie of guests that have arrived. While cordial, they've occasionally held a stare with several of the more rowdy guests until they simmered down; most notably, they've lightly pulled at something metallic up their wrist when a man of society nearly started an argument with one of the other guests (that is, until he noticed and quickly simmered down; out of fear? Respect?).

Virgil: -Raising their glass; speaking moderately, yet clearly.- . . .Thomas, a refill, please?

The boy01/24/2020

The zee captain bursts out laughing, a very heavy, ragged sort of laugh coming out of this woman. She settles down, chugging her own drink. She sat right in front of the bandaged, having moved a chair to do so. Her accent wasn't terribly thick, but it spoke loads as to where she lived before in the neath, slurred and similar to Able's than to perhaps other zee captains. She leans in grinning wildly.

Captain: What? You? You look like you could lose to a wee rat, let alone take on a lion. But have you see what comes up from near one of the far out islands? Beasts larger than fifteen ships strung together! Nearly took my eye out-

She indicates a gash along one of her eyes, which had scarred pretty badly.

Captain: Oh, but do go on about some rowdy ministers.

She grins, leaning back into her chair, taking another hearty swig from her glass. Able looked, well scared maybe? One man kept knocking into him, and another made coy comments about his appearance before sneaking off to the tray of cakes set out for guests. Able nibbled on his own treats, a little bit of bread. He didn't like the crowds(unless he was about to lift something), but something to eat was enough to keep his mind steady. Thomas set to getting the deacon his glass filled, after fussing over another guest's needs. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was a bit worried his last guest wouldn't show.

Thomas: Ah, of course, deacon.

***

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man snorts, taking a long draw from their glass again.

The Bandaged: Fifteen? Hah! . .I've tousled with a Zee seal bigger than that AND tamed it! Brought it to the Labyrinth of Tigers. . .then it got eaten. Blasted animal.

The deacon raises their glass to their lips, sipping briefly before speaking to Thomas.

Virgil: . . .is your apparently nameless friend going to just stand unsociably in the corner?

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is glancing over at the captain and the bandaged spinning wilder and wilder tales, most of which he assumed to be..... only partly true. He looks back at the deacon, the bottle still in his hands.

Thomas: Mh? Oh that is fairly likely, though he might open up if he had.... well anyone to talk with. Hm, I had planned for this but she's...

Thomas thinks to himself for a bit, tapping on the bottle.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man is continuing to talk with the zee-captain, growing rowdy but otherwise not disturbing the other guests. Meanwhile, the deacon nods politely, sipping from their glass.

Virgil: Well, if they didn't respond to your calling card, perhaps they weren't available.

The deacon stares at Able, before moving to stand up, palming their glass.

Virgil: I suppose I ought to initiate the social conversation and introduce myself, then.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas was about to say something but was called over by another guest who needed a new drink. It was the man who insisted he was some important figure, and was requesting another, even more difficult drink. Thomas had to quickly run to the storage. Able was pressed against the wall, ignoring passing comments about himself, occasionally looking over at the Bandaged who seemed to be fairly enthused. He cursed himself for being so easily persuaded to come, knowing it would be like this.

.

they01/24/2020

The deacon is making polite excuses to the guests as they maneuver around (though, despite their apologizing, they move smoothly without nary a stumble). . .

Virgil: Excuse me. . .pardon me. . .and curb your tongue, Duke. . .ah, there we are.

. . .before settling in front of Able, holding their glass in their palm and looking down at him as they do so.

Virgil: Good evening.

The boy01/24/2020

The man seemed to bite his tongue and move to the other side of the room when the deacon walked over. He said nothing else, but his expression was sour. Able looks up, jumping a bit, taking a big bite out of his bread before nodding to the deacon in recognition. Able didn't want to talk to him, he didn't want to be near him, but he only had so much bread in his hands before he was out of excuses not to talk.

Able: Ah....You.....um... Who are you... again...

they01/24/2020

The deacon raises the glass to their lips, drinking briefly.

Virgil: My name is Virgil. Have you remembered what your name is?

The boy01/24/2020

Able feels fear strike his heart. This man probably did so more because of his position than his race. Able looks away, trying not to look like a scolded child.

Able: Ah....I-It's... Able.

He looks back up, feeling a bit ashamed, but not sure for what.

they01/24/2020

The deacon lifts a glass to their lips, sipping briefly before lightly flicking at the cuff at their wrist.

Virgil: . . .interesting. A curious name.

The bandaged man suddenly laughs, slamming their cup on the table and causing a small, hairline fracture to run from the top to midway down the glass; the alcohol inside is slowly running onto the bandaged man's hand (though they make no acknowledgement of this).

The Bandaged: -To a zee-captain.- Hah! A riot, you are! . .now, tell me. . .do you have a zailing title worthy of your SUPPOSED esteem?

The deacon's face tenses briefly, before they drink from their glass again.

Virgil: Now, when did you decide to start associating with. . .your bandaged acquaintance?

The boy01/24/2020

Able looks around, not sure what to say. The bandaged man seemed to be fairly comfortable with Virgil, but he wasn't sure how much they knew of each other.

Able: Ah I'm.... not quite sure, a few months ago i believe...

The zee captain lifts her mug to her mouth, draining her glass, staring at the bandaged amused.

Captain: Title? What do you take me for, one of those louts in high society? Who needs that sort of frivolous nonsense.

She jokes, grinning directly at the bandaged man.

they01/24/2020

Virgil: A polite question; to what end? Why?

While the deacon interrogates Able, the bandaged man's face sours for a brief moment in a pout in response to the zee-captain.

The Bandaged: Why, I don't think I'm a lout. . .least, not a stuffy lout. . .hm. . .

The bandaged man leans back in their chair, before suddenly sitting up with a manic energy.

The Bandaged: Well now, this simply won't do; you must get a title. In fact. . .you're now the Valorous Zee-Captain!

The bandaged man points around the room, pointing at arbitrary guests with gusto.

The Bandaged: You're the Somber Sommelier! You shall be the Renowned Revolutionary! The Tumultuous Thief! The. . .ah, right, you already have a title.. .yes, yes,I understand. . .the Downtrodden Duke! Our esteemed Scarlet Saint, of course. . .and our host, the. . .hm. The. . .Freckle Faced? >The bandaged man raises their glass suddenly, spilling a bit of alcohol about as they do so. The Bandaged: A toast, then, to your new names!.

The boy01/24/2020

Able thinks for a moment, looking at the bandaged cause a ruckus, then at Thomas who was dealing with guest requests.

Able: At first...? Safety. Provided me a place to stay though...

The captain looks amused, laughing at the names the bandaged is coming up with. Thomas notices the bandaged when the people seemed to take this opportunity to toast, most of them(save for the sommelier) amused by the bandaged for their own reasons.

Able: He's lonely, I think.

they01/24/2020

Virgil: I'm well aware of that.

The deacon raises a glass to their lips, drinking briefly. They lower the glass, wearing a gaze that Able can feel boring straight through him.

Virgil: . . .there is a marked change in his. . .disposition of sorts. . .did anything happen after you came to his abode?

The bandaged man raises his glass to the people toasting, apparently quite pleased by the adoption of the names; alcohol is trailing down their arm (from the hairline crack in the glass) and dripping onto the table, but they make no mention of it.

The Bandaged: To the Sommelier! To the Revolutionary! The Thief! The Duke! The Saint! The. . .Faced! To all who are here, to all who ar-

The front door of Thomas's house briefly rattles, shaking for a moment as the doorknob rattles in place.

The Bandaged: -To Thomas.- Ah, you see! See, this is why doors are a farce! Too difficult to get in!

A few bystanders chuckle at the bandaged man's presumed exaggeration, though they still glance at the door as the door knob slowly turns, before opening slowly on its hinged.

[

3:42 AM

]

Slowly, a visage peeks into view; leaning into the doorway is what appears to be a tentacled, rubbery man. Or is it woman? Certainly, as it slithers its way inside, it's dressed in what looks to be an old, slightly frumpy-looking dress; while the dress is a rather farm-like in nature, its degraded by age with visible tatters, threads pulled lose, and a lumpiness going round the waist. On the rubbery woman's head is what appears to be a white, slightly honey-stained bonnet (stained in the same way that tablecloth spoilt by coffee can never truly be washed clean). Beyond that, however, she has nothing else on; there are no shoes, for she's merely slithering on many tentacles each taking their turn to step; there are no gloves, for she has her tentacled appendages laid bare (though multiple are passing through the sleeves of the dress); and there are no undershirts or the like lining a layer between them and the dress (though the lumpiness of the dress helps to hide the unsettling squirming underneath. The rubbery woman is staring at the crowd, the green skin flaring into a brief brown before they move rigidly, their tentacled appendages very cautiously closing the door behind them.

???: . . .ooorth.

The rubbery woman is sidling her way into the corner, furthest from the rest of the (partially bewildered) crowd and closest to Thomas. The bandaged man is the first one to break the silence, raising a glass to their lips.

The Bandaged: Ah, and who might you be?

The rubbery woman perks at the bandaged man speaking to them but continues to edge around the crowd towards Thomas, adopting a sickly brown in their complexion as they do so and avoiding eye contact(? A difficult feat, what with her eyes going round like they do).

.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas looks up, hearing his guest. He seems overjoyed, and moved towards her with open arms.

Thomas: Ah! My dear friend! How are you?

Thomas takes a closer look at her clothes, and furrows his brow.

Thomas: Now dear, if you said you needed clothes you should've just said so. Come, let's get you something out in my stock.

Thomas seems exceptionally enthused, even with most of the guest's sneers. He guides her towards the hallway door, asking her of her day and so forth. The crowd seems to not be shocked, clearly she has been here before. The captain makes the least fuss about it, but doesn't mention anything else. Able is looking at his hands, trying to thing of what to say.

Able: Ah...hmm...

Able was trying to think of how to put it, as they did seem to be less... inebriated during the day after.... Ah. He goes a bit flush thinking about it.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man clears their throat, raising their glass once more.

The Bandaged: Erm, yes, well. . .to your new titles!

Meanwhile, the deacon is ignoring the hullabaloo (though they do give a furtive glance towards the new guest before returning to gaze at Able).

Virgil: Hmm? Is this you musing about what it could be, or are you merely too embarrassed about confiding in a deacon?

The boy01/24/2020

Able is gripping his hands together tightly. He really didn't want to discuss such things with this devil.

Able: It is... rather private..

He looks at the bandaged, feeling a bit left alone.

they01/24/2020

After a moment, the rubbery woman reenters the main parlor; they're wearing a more elegant (though still loose fitting) dress with medium length sleeves (filled out by appendages coiling around each other, with plenty of stacked layers going round to add volume and disguise any undulations. Her "arms" are covered in From looking, one can tell that its made from dyed-brown silk and that it seems to be tailor made, what with having several more pairs of sleeves than the normal human. Over her coiled appendages, she's wearing a white. . .cover? Whatever it is, it's hiding her arm appendages in a way that makes it taper to a point, like a particular kind of cone. Overall, she seems to be dressed much more respectably. . .that is, if one ignores that she's still wearing her slightly stained bonnet. Meanwhile, The deacon raises a glass to their lips, giving a pointed tilting of their head towards the bandaged man.

Virgil: -To Able.- Well, in that case, we canhead to a more private setting to discuss.

The deacon raises their glass, emptying it in one draw before lowering it.

Virgil: You're formally invited to a meeting at Dante's Grill on the day of next week.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is moving his friend towards the drinks, happy to finally give her the specialized drink. It looks crystal clear, whist a small fish swims blindly in it.

Thomas: I hope this is acceptable for you, I had to research a bit to get you something truly special.

On the other side of the room Able is looking more and more nervous. He felt pinned, even if the deacon never moved.

Able: A-....no I'm, busy then....

He lied. Poorly. His is wringing his hands together, looking like a guilty man.

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman moves with Thomas rather unreluctantly; she's peering her eyes towards the main hustle and bustle of the party, and she seems to be pressing closer to Thomas in trying to avoid nearing the crowd. She perks up, however, upon seeing the drink, and curls a bundle of tendrils around the stem of the glass, lifting it to just under her face. Her loose tendrils lining the inside of her face dips into the glass; the water level in the glass slowly receding. A voice suddenly speaks from behind Thomas; the bandaged man is resting on his shoulder, an arm lazily wrapping around them while they hold their glass perilously.

The Bandaged: Oy, freckles; who's this lass?

The rubbery woman quickly undulates, shifting so that Thomas is standing in-between them and the bandaged man. Meanwhile, the deacon lowers their glass, rubbing the rim of it in a slow circle.

Virgil: Ah, then afterwards? Surely, you're not permanently busy?

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas looks very happy to see his friend enjoy her drink. Thomas winces when he hears, then feels the bandaged man. He was about to gripe, but instead put on a bit of a faux smile

Thomas: Hm? Oh this is my good friend.....ah... names are a bit... difficult. However we have known each other for a while now, lovely to sit down to tea with.

Thomas is gesturing towards the gal, hoping this man wasn't going to start anything. Though, given his physical attributes he certainly hoped not! Able is looking away, surely this man didn't just want to sit and have a chat with him. He is looking for a means of escape.

Able: Yes. That. Hm, hm.

permanently busy seemed about right to him, at least to try and get this man off his back. He looked at the deacon with a sideways glance, unamused by being poked and prodded.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man perks up.

The Bandaged: Ah, a special friend? . .or just an ordinary friend?

The rubbery woman slinks away, edging herself away from the bandaged man; he pauses, raising a hand in a handshake.

The Bandaged: Ah, please, don't be so shy. The name is. . .well, you can just call me The Bandaged, if that's to your liking. ???: . . .troo?

The rubbery woman pauses, staring at the bandaged man's hand. Then, she shudders her face breaking out in splotches of light green; elation? Glee? Whatever it is, she immediately wraps her appendages around the bandaged man's hand, holding it in two "hands" and violently shaking it.

???: Ootharooth! The Bandaged: E-er, yes. . .throoth to you too. . .er, Thomas, if you want to have a more. . .understandable conversation, why don't we head to the kitchen for a moment?

Meanwhile, the deacon continues circling a finger around their empty glass, giving Able a glance every so often.

Virgil: Ah, then it shouldn't matter whether you're preoccupied or not; if you're so busy that you have no free time, adding another activity on top of it would be barely noticeable, yes?.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is glad the man is behaving himself. He is amused by how enthused she is to meet new folks. This is what he was hoping for, showing her that there is some people who may indeed value her.

Thomas: Just a friend. Now, if we wish to have a more-

Thomas looks at the bandaged's glass.

Thomas: Well. First lets get you a new glass, then we can discuss, mh? I don't want shards all over my floor with so many feet around.

Thomas grabs the bandaged by their coat collar, and gestures for the girl to follow. He drags the bandaged man to storage, he would give him a right talking to about breaking things in his home after the party. Across the room Able is slowly, so, so slowly trying to slink away, watching for when the deacon is looking, only moving when he is not.

Able: Ah, er....Perhaps though.... Certainly I would have... classes... and study....

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman trails alongside Thomas, cautiously looking at the bandaged man but otherwise following them to leave the main room. . . Meanwhile, the deacon accommodates for Able's sidling, taking small steps closer to them as they speak.

Virgil: Why, I'm sure the Bandaged would be perfectly willing to accommodate a single visit. Certainly, they'd most likely take you to Dante's grill himself if he was in better favor with devils.

The deacon tugs lightly at the cuff of their sleeves.

Virgil: Disregarding that, you don't seem like someone who would like to attend their. . .classes.

The boy01/24/2020

Storage is incredibly full, lined with shelves and neatly organized crates, boxes, all labelled and dated. A coat rack sits along one wall, filled with sealed garments. A single wine rack with more expensive looking drinks, with dates tied onto them with string, all within the next week. Thomas, however was focusing on an open box on one of the shelves, pulling it down to produce an identical glass to the bandaged's. He snatches the other glass out of his hands and replaces it with the new one. He tosses the broken one, alcohol and all, into an old box filled with similarly broken bottles.

Thomas: Now. I will have to ask you to be careful with that one as well, hm?

In the living space, Able is now scooting across the wall, still trying to move away.

Able: Ah.... I... Well it's.... I suppose.. that is correct... hm...

they01/24/2020

In the storage room, the bandaged man holds the glass, inspecting it.

The Bandaged: . . .how many of these do you. . .ah, nevermind. What we're here for is an enlightening discussion!

The bandaged man gestures at the rubbery woman; instinctively, she wriggles backwards, holding up her hands briefly.

The Bandaged: . . .er, right, you're skittish. Uh, hm. . .here, just. . .

The bandaged man reaches for the rubbery woman's "hand", but she wriggles backwards, unsure of herself.

The Bandaged: Oh for goodness. . .look, here!

The bandaged man's arm squirms briefly underneath; their fingers go limp, drooping downwards before slowly turning black, their hand slowly unravelling into tendrils. The rubbery woman stares at the blackening mass, before tentatively, gently, reaching a "hand" out to touch it. Immediately, the green tendrils of the rubbery woman and the bandaged man intertwine in an unsettling fashion (if one wasn't looking closely, they'd say it was melding together; in reality, they are merely tightly weaved).

The Bandaged: . . .ah, see? Nothing to fear. I think. Er, I haven't done transliteration of the Rubbery tongue in quite a bit, but. . .I'm sure your thoughts will be intact, ey "oohrooth"?

Meanwhile, in the living space, the deacon is keeping up with Able's sidling, merely taking the sidestepping around the wandering guests as an opportunity to keep pace with Able.

Virgil: Ah, then you do have some free time for a meeting at Dante's Grill?

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is watching closely, keeping an eye on the bandaged man as he puts away some things, and pulls out a small bottle, holding onto it for later. He is trying to watch quietly, not to interrupt whatever sort of thing this was. Certainly it'd help get her thoughts out, he hoped. In the living area Able is squirming, not sure where the bandaged or Thomas was at now. Did they leave? No.... Perhaps they were just hidden for now.

Able: Ah, of course.... I....hm...

He wasn't paying too much attention, still trying to scoot away, but he hits a bookshelf, and is stuck.

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman and the bandaged man intertwine their tendrils; the rubbery woman is shuddering, the spots along their body briefly flickering different shades of Peligin, green, and brown.

???: Throotharooth. . .throoorhh The Bandaged: Hm. . .ah, you two have known each other for a long time? . .mmmhhh. . .no proper communication, only gestures. . . ???: Throoth! Throoth! The Bandaged: . . .er, what? ???: Throooooth! The Bandaged: Oh. Oh, alright. . .

The bandaged man leans in conspiratorially, speaking to Thomas.

The Bandaged: She wishes to tell you that her name is. . .er, it's either pearl, nacre, or shellfish. . .my understanding of rubbery grammar is still fairly loose. . .er. . .

The rubbery woman nods their head enthusiastically, their bonnet-covered mantle sloshing around wetly in the storage room. Meanwhile, in the living room, the deacon gives a curt smile.

Virgil: Ah, excellent.

The deacon suddenly starts heading back towards the main part of the room with the intent of returning to their seat.

Virgil: I hope to see you there, Able..

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas looks on, nodding to what the bandaged is saying for a while.

Thomas: Ah, Pearl sounds like a lovely name.

He looks fairly happy to learn a bit more about his friend, and now he can start calling her by name. This would make their visits more personal. In the other room, Able looks up suddenly.

Able: Wh...What?

He finds himself a bit more bold, maneuvering around the crowd to get in front of the deacon.

Able: What does that mean?

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman chirps, leaning in towards the bandaged man with their hands still intertwined.

The Bandaged: . . .hm? "Pearl"?: -Gesturing towards Thomas.- Ootharoorrh? The Bandaged: Oh. Oh! Er, Pearl means. . .well, similar to throoth. And their name, Thomas, that'd be like. . .something like tharathoo, I'd bet-

The rubbery woman suddenly chirps happily, letting go of the bandaged man's hand; immediately, they slither over to Thomas, before quickly wrapping them up in a slick hug, squeezing tight while their gloved "hands" wrap around him.

Pearl: Thrrr. . .thrathoooo! Tharathoo! The Bandaged: Ah. Quick learner.

The rubbery woman (now named Pearl) seems very excited. Meanwhile, in the other room, the deacon is in their seat, sitting properly.

Virgil: I mean that we have an agreement, yes?

Around Able, those who have heard over the general commotion give a general tutting; one unnamed patron gives a small wince upon hearing Virgil's comment, and makes their excuses to shift away from Able. The deacon looks at their empty glass, before looking up to Able.

Virgil: . . .would you care to search for the host and tell him that the deacon requires a refill, please?.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is grinning, returning his friend's hug happily. This was a wonderful gift to him, certainly worth fussing over the bandaged man for a good deal of the night. Able is standing in front of the deacon, his first reaction is anger. His second reaction is fear, but his anger swallowed it up fairly quickly.

Able: That's...! Hhf..

Able storms off, looking for Thomas, his fear slowly taking over that anger.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man leans against the wall, looking at their new glass.

The Bandaged: Yes, yes, formal introductions are made. Now, Thomas, where's your higher grade wine? I can feel the drinks you gave me wearing off, and I wish to be indecent.

The rubbery woman hugs Thomas for a brief moment, before letting go; she gestures between herself and Thomas, repeating herself over and over.

Pearl: Throoth! Th. . .tharathoo! Throoth! Tharathoo!

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas gets a good, happy laugh out.

Thomas: Yes, yes! This is wonderful, yes? Now we can call each other by name.

Thomas, sighs at the bandaged man.

Thomas: Of course, I have a fairly strong bottle of absinth here. It should keep you entertained.

Thomas is already opening the bottle with no fuss, pouring the man a full glass, before re-corking it.

Thomas: Now... why don't we-

The storage door opens, and there's Able, looking as if he'd been told someone died. Thomas knew that face, Able was never really good at containing his emotions. Then he thought about it, where was Able all night?

Thomas: Dear, your face is wet, do you need to- Able: ...Devil...

Able whimpers, looking even more pathetically. He was clearly on the verge of bawling his eyes out.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man eagerly grabs the entire bottle of absinthe.

The Bandaged: Ah, there's the good draught. . .

The bandaged man holds the bottle to their face.

The Bandaged: A spot of sunlight, stored in anise. . .God, do I even remember the taste of licorice? . .perhaps I can do something later wit-

The bandaged man is interrupted when Able enters into the storage room. At the same time, the rubbery woman suddenly shifts up, quickly slithering behind Thomas and squishing herself low so she fits behind Thomas's profile, with only her mantle and slitted eyes peeking over Thomas's shoulder.

The Bandaged: -Distracted by the absinthe they're cradling.- . . .er, hm? What? Speak up; learn to project yourself, child..

The boy01/24/2020

Able starts properly crying before Thomas can reach him, becoming very hard to hear what he was saying. Thomas furrows his brows, holding Able by the shoulders. Thomas got "Man" "Dinner" and "Devil" out of him, but no context beyond that, as after Able managed to get any words out he was burying himself in Thomas's shirt. That was inconvenient, he would have to change before going back out. Thomas moves Able away from him, looking even more red in the face, crying so hard he looked like a mess.

Thomas: Well we can't send you out like this... And... We cannot hear you like this. Dear why don't you go rest for a bit, hm?

Thomas looks at the bandaged man.

Thomas: Your mentor can wait till you've calmed down with you. Perhaps he'll even sober up.

they01/24/2020

The bandaged man is discreetly uncorking the bottle of absinthe, pouring more into the glass Thomas had already filled to an almost overflowing degree.

The Bandaged: Oh, hush; my tolerance is much higher than you think, freckle face.

Meanwhile, the rubbery woman is skirting behind Thomas, holding onto him only by the ends of her tendrils and keeping as much distance from Able; she's colored a dark brown, vaguely blending in with the items left in the storage room.

Pearl: Chrr. . .

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas looks towards Pearl, then at a sad, crying able.

Thomas: Ah, yes, dear this is my good companion, Able. As he's a bit too sad to talk though you two will have to meet at a later date. Able this is Pearl, a great friend of mine.

Able, still crying, but now only whimpering, nodding at the gal.

Thomas: Alright, now I must change shirts. Sir, I need you to take Able to my room, where you can keep him steady for the night. ----

The party went fairly well, even with the minor inconveniences. People left in mainly groups, though the captain stuck around a bit longer before heading out herself. Thomas started cleaning, as soon as she left, knowing that Virgil did not seem to mind his busy work. He noticed though, that he wasn't leaving of his own accord, and started suggesting he can head home.

Thomas: Have a good time, then? You rarely stick around so long.

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman is following behind Thomas, observing how he's tidying off the table. After a moment, she lowers her head close to the table, and, while staring hard at the surface of the table, she slides a tentacle along the surface, brushing aside stray crumbs and leaving a thin film of slime on the surface of the desk. Meanwhile, the deacon lifts their nearly empty glass to their lips, taking a long draw until it's completely empty; they lower the glass, setting it down on the table. They rub their finger along the top of the glass.

Virgil: Yes, well. . .tonight has been profitable.

The deacon stands up, brushing themselves off while wearing a soft smile.

Virgil: I've learned what sort of lectures I ought to preach the next time I return to my church, at the very least. Modesty. . .the moderation of one's intake of wine, certainly. . .restraining one's appetites. . .

The deacon heads over to the front door, grabbing the door handle.

Virgil: I'll need to have a visit with that duke, and remind him of his duties to society. . .ah, but I'm rambling. I shall take my leave.

The deacon turns the handle, opening the door and stepping past the doorway; before they close it entirely, however, they turn to face Thomas, a devilish (yet restrained) grin on his face.

Virgil: Ah, remind your friend of his commitment. Good evening.

The deacon closes the door, turning the knob so it closes silently in place; then, the familiar creaking of the stairs outside, before silence. Meanwhile, the rubbery woman is wildly brushing the surfaces of the table with her false-arms, flecking globs of mucus all over the place while she does so; she seems unbothered by the crumbs sticking to her exposed false-arms. She turns to face Thomas, chirping contentedly.

.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas is watching the deacon, listening carefully. His friend? He looks at Pearl, who is merely making more mess for him to clean up, but more than that she was getting herself more filthy. No, not her, certainly not.... The deacon wouldn't...

Thomas: Ahhh..... hell.

Thomas quickly moves towards Pearl, a bit of a false smile. He needed to deal with this as quickly as possible. Though he still had to deal with her.

Thomas: My dear, you do not need to do such things. I don't want your nice new dress to get covered. A bit too many hazards...

Thomas is unable to keep up this smile, looking more worried. He gestures a bit vaguely, his hands trying to mostly describe what he was saying.

Thomas: Ah, will you join me for tea in a couple weeks? I'd love to continue our talks....though... I have to attend to... Ah, my companion..

they01/24/2020

The rubbery woman flares a brief green, before standing up, drooping slightly; she hugs Thomas briefly, squeezing him tightly for a moment.

Pearl: . . .tharathoo. . .

She lets go of Thomas, before pointing between herself and Thomas again.

Pearl: Throoth. . .thrathh. . .

She links her tentacles together, pulling them apart briefly to show they're linked, before relaxing her false-hands; she walks to the front door, briefly struggling with the handle before opening the door. She slithers out, standing outside in the dark, turning to look at Thomas for a moment before heading up, the door closing slowly behind her.

.

The boy01/24/2020

Thomas nods, giving his friend a wave before she leaves. He would have to get her some decent treats for their next chat together. For now he heads to the hallway, and into his room, opening the door.

Thomas: Alright, you twat, didn't the vicar teach you better than this?

January 25, 2020

they01/25/2020

The bandaged man is sitting on the edge of Thomas's bed, leaning against the headboard while messily filling a small glass. They're spilling absinthe as they do so, though they seem drunk enough that they don't care. They raise the glass, offering it towards Able's general direction.

The Bandaged: Heh. . .here, Able. . .y. . .you're feeling down, yes? This should help you out. . .try iiiit, it tastes like licorice. . .e. . .er, yeah, you don't know what that is. . .it tastes like. . .tar, but good. . .

The boy01/25/2020

Able pushes the glass away, sighing.

Able: I don't drink.

Thomas walks towards the bandaged, plucking the bottle from their hands before moving in front of Able.

Thomas: Dealings with Devils is dangerous.

Able looks away, muttering.

Able: He... tricked me.. Thomas: Of course he did dear! That's how they work!

they01/25/2020

The bandaged man chitters, drinking from the glass Able pushed away.

The Bandaged: Whaat? Virgil? No, he's. . .he's a right sort of fellow, you see. . .he's a priest, 'sn't he?

The boy01/25/2020

Thomas looks at the bandaged. Annoyed.

Thomas: He's still a devil, and he's probably after your poor student's soul. Ahg.... Those devils have always been very....attentive towards him...

Thomas takes a swig of the absinth, hissing as it burns.

Thomas: Now, you've said you made a deal, hm? What was it?

Able covers his face, speaking into his hands.

Able: Dinner....at... Dante's grill...

they01/25/2020

The bandaged man perks up, raising their half-full glass.

The Bandaged: Ah, Dante's Grill? . .great place, great place. . .it's hot there, you know. . .devil's like going to that place. . .

The bandaged man snorts, downing another gulp of unfiltered absinthe.

The Bandaged: Ah. . .I remember, one time I had to rescue a fellow constable. . .from there. . .was a waiter in disguise, you see. . .

The bandaged man pauses.

The Bandaged: . . .didn't get there in time. They had a new special. I think they chopped 'im up..

The boy01/25/2020

Able looks horrified, and nearly passes out, but just barely catches himself, falling over onto the bed instead, groaning into his hands.

Thomas: Ah, its a dangerous place. Able may indeed get caught like that. Hmm..

Thomas thinks for a bit. If he's agreed there's no way out of it, and he's certainly in no position to be going without guidance.

Thomas: Suppose he'll need some special lessons before then. When did you agree to meet?

Able is lying on his side on the bed, groaning, trying to not start crying again.

Able: A week....

they01/25/2020

The bandaged man downs their glass in one swig, wetly sighing as they cough.

The Bandaged: Hhkkf. . .hoo, a week? Well, you'd best bring a gift, then. . .if he's giving you time, he expects something of you. . .

The boy01/25/2020

Thomas sighs, sitting on the bed, moving Able to rest his head in his lap. He is gently smoothing out his hair. Able doesn't say much else or complain, just lays there, covering his face.

Thomas: Mh, perhaps we'll start lessons tomorrow, sober up the walking pile of rags, hm?

they01/25/2020

The bandaged man scoffs, standing up. . .

The Bandaged: Why, you lis'n here, I am PERFECTLY sob. . .

. . .before stumbling, falling forward and leaning against the bedroom walls.

The Bandaged: Ghhf. . .perfectly fine. . .pah. . .