Afterparty

[latinumsbetter]

[After the execution finishes and Wendy is dragged down into the Earth by that absolute horrific monstrosity of a creature and Typhon gives his goodbye, Quark will stand there for a long moment in the silence, before announcing, in a voice that wavers while trying to go for neutral:]

The bar’ll be open. Sitting around alone isn’t going to help anyone. [he turns to look at Ferdinand] Ferdinand, you’re with me. I need someone to move the table.

[and, taking Cerejeira’s elbow, he’s going to head out of the Arena. So...post trial, the Eatery’s been moved into bar configuration by Ferdinand and Quark. There’s been several of the extra togas gathered and folded to be used as blankets. There are snacks from the pantry brought out and placed on plates and in bowls and left out to eat. The bar is open, but so is the kitchen, if anyone wants to make something.

Both Ferdinand and Quark can be found behind the bar, the latter attempting to teach the former how to use the replicator he’s now got back there in addition to the other drink components. At least it’s keeping them busy. They’re both there to serve drinks, however.

The door is open.]

Comments

[necromants]

Nothing escapes you, hm?

[It's not a bad thing, and it's not like he hasn't spoken of it before... But still Zvei's mismatched eyes flick to the others in the bar before he lowers his voice a touch.]

I'm an amnesiac; I awoke without any of my memories around twelve years ago. I want to find out who I am, and reclaim what I lost.

[taintedfayth]

I would be a poor priest indeed if I could not tell when someone is carrying a burden.

[That is why the priests and maesters exist, after all, and his smile is soft, understanding.]

... especially one so heavy.

[necromants]

[That gets a soft laugh from him and Zvei swirls the wine glass absently, staring into that instead of looking at Seymour.]

You have no idea.

["Is it difficult, Zvei?" Fiona had asked him once. "Not remembering who you are? Who you're supposed to be?"

"It's fine," He'd said, because he didn't have a choice. "It's fine."]

[taintedfayth]

[Seymour traces a claw around the edge of his own glass, the slight, sharp sound mostly drowned out in the noise of the bar.]

What will you do if you never find out?

[Because it's always a possibility, a potential end to that journey. Sometimes the answer you get isn't the one you're looking for.]

[necromants]

[His mismatched eyes dart up to follow Seymour's claw as he silently wonders about it. Perhaps it's just a distraction from the unpleasant question.]

...I hope I never have to answer that question.

[He knows it's something he should have an answer for. He knows it's something he should lie and claim he has an answer for. But he doesn't. Right here, right now, he can't be bothered to make something up. So it's brutally honest. A question that's been plaguing him for twelve damn years, and possibly many more now.]

[taintedfayth]

[Over and over he traces that spiral, as if he could somehow dig his claw right into the glass by doing so and mar that perfect, shining surface.]

And I will hope the same, for your sake.

[For once, that isn't entirely a platitude. Maybe it's because he himself spent years searching for answers that didn't exist, for reasons, for explanations, for something, some tiny shred of meaning to give him hope.

He knows what it feels like to come up empty-handed.]

[necromants]

Thank you. I could use the well-wishes.

[He exhales, then shakes his head; the tension leaves him almost as quickly as it arrived as Zvei drains the last of his glass.]

But let's not dwell on such dour topics, shall we? We've had plenty of that today.

[taintedfayth]

[That's all it takes to get Seymour to move his own hand away from the rim of his glass and pick it up properly, taking a more measured sip of his own wine.]

I would suggest a toast to having survived another week, but it would seem you beat me to that opportunity.

[Not that he's judging any wine chugging today after everything!]

[necromants]

[Sometimes you gotta after a conversation that heavy.]

Oh dear. Well, allow me to toast you in spirit.

[He holds up his empty glass.]

To surviving another week!

[taintedfayth]

To another week.

[Both surviving this one, and to the week ahead.

He lifts his glass to clink it lightly against Zvei's... and then downs the remainder of his own wine in a single gulp as well, because why not? Might as well live a little while they can.]

[necromants]

[Another week of hell certainly could be worse. He could be without any sort of company, after all!]

I'll be sure to return the favor when we inevitably end up here at the end of next week.

[taintedfayth]

Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Someone could choose to turn the tide.

[But, like. Yeah, he knows they're going to be doing this whole thing again.]

[necromants]

[It gets a laugh from him, but then he leans forward, lowering his voice.]

It would be a little boring if they did, wouldn't it?