etrayalogs | [ closed ] you see a man

[ As he's been doing for months, he brings out food for Heathcliff. The monstrous cat has seemingly decided there's no sport in killing Vincent rather than any concern that killing him would mean it'd lose its supply of daily food. Because there would always be something to find and hunt. ]

This weather -- [ As she eats, he complains. ] -- we're supposed to go to a -- [ He bobs side to side with his hands out. ] -- water park to enjoy ourselves. Do you think that sounds like somewhere I want to be?

[ He flicks his hands towards his body. ] Obviously not. [ He would die of heatstroke before he would go. Points or no points. He will make up for the points he would not get by engaging in other activities. ] Of course, there isn't anything that I am truly wanting for myself.

[ Although, it wouldn't be for him. He crosses his arms before his head tips back. ] I already acquired one of those cards for Maria. I should do the same for Heather. [ Even though he feels like there is nothing that could touch her so long as Alessa is part of her; he still shouldn't fully rely on someone so uncertain. ]

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering where I've been. I've been -- [ The monstrous cat has finished her meal and already going somewhere else to look for something else to fight or do. Vincent stares after it before making a gesture with his hands: ] Cats.

Great news. I acquired some of your favorite takeout.

[ It is the message that he ends as he tosses some small "thank you" to the bots for getting him what he requested. Lightly patting the boxes of food, he heads out to find a nice street that he can throw the food in.

Should he do it outside the Library? Well, he might end up being banned from going there? Maybe? He isn't sure. He squints as he attempts to think of what "street" that he should attempt to go. Actually, while reviewing the map, he decides that the best place would be outside the 7-11. Since that's the level of elevated eating that he feels John was engaging in before coming to this place.

And so, he waits outside the 7-11 with food in hand. ]

Edited 2025-07-02 05:33 (UTC)

[ Vincent can't help but feel suspicious of her. What's her plan? What's her angle? Just be nice to people?

However, since he doesn't know, he has to figure it out. At the very least, he is ensuring she doesn't know where he lives. He wonders actually how many people are aware of where he lives -- and feels like whatever number it is, it is too high. Second concern that he had is wondering if Hannibal's house had wine in the basement that no one's stolen. He should attempt to steal that if no one else has. ]

Well, I can head to the Diner now and do your reading. You can even get more than one.

[ The idea of being in debt or someone indebted to him is unappealing. Offering that much makes him feel like he's balancing everything out. He heads out to on the trolley to slowly make his way to the Diner. If she isn't able to meet him there, that's fine, the trolley takes him to where he's making his church anyway.

But it seems they can meet, so he gets off the trolley at the appropriate stop and heads to the Diner. He even picks a spot by the front so that he's easy to find. He points his index finger to the side as he slowly jerks his hand up and down as he decides the percentage of what is and isn't owed, in his head. ]

Edited 2025-07-02 05:32 (UTC)

[ It occurred to Vincent that he never introduced himself to "Hound." The two of them never exchanged names. He only came to realize that after the conversation was over, but it's always bad when a deal was struck to come back asking for information. So, he refused to acknowledge the mistake -- since it is both of their mistake.

Could he look on CHIRPR? Yes. But at this point it was willful ignorance.

Instead, he heads out at the given time and date to café or Café Millenia at 2AM in the morning. But as what was already established, he refuses to back down as soon as he's made a decision. As weak and powerless as he is, the least he can do is keep this guns to even the worst of his decisions.

Since this isn't anything that will kill him, he sees no reason to apologize and take back anything. That truly is the only time to say "sorry" when one's life is on the line.

That said, he stands outside the closed café and glances toward who he assumes is the person he's meeting: ] You're Hound, then? Somehow you're not quite like I thought, but whatever. [ He flicks his wrist toward the doors. ] You can get this, right?

Edited 2025-07-02 05:39 (UTC)

Well, what shall we do today, teacher?

[ Look at that? He's actually willing to give a small bit of respect to Chu Wenshan who has been helping him build up some stamina so that he can run. It's become an unfortunate truth that he is quite out of shape. But he has gotten better -- at the very least, he doesn't feel like he's going to die when he sprints across the bridge of Stronhyrr. He just wishes for death afterward (ha-ha).

So meets in Nevergrey because there is nothing out there - so no one would go there, so no one would see how embarrassing he looks as he attempts to exercise. He, at least, has better attire for such activities instead of believing that he can do them in his vest, slacks, and fine shoes. ]

And, exactly when do you think I'll be able to throw a snowball like you showed?

[Unlike Vincent, Vander was very much a social nuisance, and he had spent time combing through the whole post looking for the man's name. He noted his associates and he also saw that Vincent and Maria were close. It was also where he happened to find out the man's full name as confirmation before their meeting so he wouldn't appear rude that he had not asked it. The two seemed close, and well... he was definitely willing to probe Maria for more information after he had formed his own assessment of Vincent in person.

True to his word, he had closed up the bar for the night and wandered down the street to the cafe. He had a box under one arm and a bag hanging off of his hand as he noted the person already present. The guy definitely looked like Vincent, he supposed. The vibes were... interesting, and he happened to like interesting people. Would this kill him? Probably not. He expected he could break this beanpole over his knee without much effort if it came to a fight.

Yet, Vincent did remind him of someone he may have to guard his kidneys against as their 'friendship' grew.]

Good morning to you too, Vincent. I think we should dig into what you were expecting while I pick the lock.

[His lock-picking skills were rusty, but hey, what else was he going to learn at 2 AM in the morning with a relative stranger? He set the box that held a bottle of wine in it - guy said boxed wine which was... sad actually - and fished in his pocket for lockpicking metals and began to work.]

Your card reading appeared quite popular with the folks.

[Chu Wenshan will happily go to Nevergrey! On foot! Just for the hell of it!

More importantly, he sizes up Vincent, arms crossed, before replying:]

We'll need to put in more exercises focusing on upper body strength, but at the rate we've been going, you might be able to support the weight of one of those snowballs in...a year or three?

A year? Or three?

[ Vincent can't help but make a noise in the back of his throat that sounds irritated. He has to keep this up for that long -- ugh. This is why he never started in exercising! There is no end to it! ]

Let's give up on that, then. [ While he normally doesn't mind long-term goals, he isn't a fan of that one. ] I think just running faster than most people is the best goal I can set for myself right now. [ And he points to the ground, emphasizing the present state of things. ]

Oh, you figured out my name? Wonderful.

[ It is what he says in greeting. He crosses his arms as he doesn't offer to hold the items that are set down. But it seems like Hound knew better than to ask him to do that, so --

Vincent holds his hand out to the side, arms still crossed, pointing his index finger toward the wall. He lets it lightly shake up then down, before letting his hand drop. ]

Yes, yes, everyone likes a distraction. [ A beat. ] I even thought to ask those that were musicians in their world to start bands or create music here. [ Shifting, he turns his attention toward the darkness around them. Well - it's partially lit, at least, but -- ] I don't know how far that's gone, but I did what I could.

[ Which is honestly giving an idea to someone and then waiting. ] Although, I do enjoy the quiet and the oppressiveness of the dark. [ It is why he lives in Stronhyrr. The crushing, suffocating feeling on his person is comforting. ]

Anyway, I'm here to hear your stories about the personifications of death.

Is a year a long time? Most martial artists train their whole lives.

[Genuinely! He doesn't see the problem! But he'll nod along anyway, because he understands that most people are weak.]

That's fine. Just running is good too. It'll keep you in shape. [Pause.] Is there a reason you want to run faster than most people?

It's a long time for an average person. And why do they train their whole lives? Are they not already strong enough?

[ He can't stop himself from letting out irritated sighs after each question. ]

Obviously because I am too weak to do anything to whatever may be chasing us... so I want to at least ensure I survive. That's fine, isn't it?

You did not make it difficult. I'm Vander, but you can call me Hound if you prefer.

[He decided there was no point beating around a drain pipe when it came to introductions, and his name was out there if one knew where to dig for it. Besides, he actually held doubts that Vincent actually cared about looking or what his name was.

He worked the lock, though he had angled himself so that he could still see Vincent and partook the hand gestures. The guy was a hand talker, and it amused him. He did very much enjoy avid hand talkers; it made a conversation entertaining regardless of what the subject was.] Oh, there's a young lady who composes music at the bar when it is quiet, so there are plenty of folks who are creatively formulating music already.

[There was a give to the lock as he worked it, and he tried the door, which turned. He stood and tucked away his lock picking instruments back into his pocket and grabbed his items as he pushed the café door open with a foot.] Well, we'll keep the lights off in here so you can enjoy the oppressive dark. In you go before someone thinks we're breaking and entering. [They absolutely were.]

I see how it is. You only like me for my death tales. Do you also just like to associate with dead people too?

Well, that depends on how this interaction goes.

[ If he's going to call him "Vander" or "Hound." ]

Good. I think that should spread around to the rest of this place. [ He holds his hands out and wiggles his fingers as though to indicate the infection of music everywhere. ] Although, I will miss the silence. [ Holding his hand out toward Vander, he continues: ] But then I will have something new to complain about, so I suppose that is a win for me. [ His face scrunches up before letting his hands drop. ]

Ah, the oppressive dark -- [ He chimes in return as he walks over toward the door. Tipping his head towards his companion, he flicks his index finger upwards at him before passing through the threshold. ]

I don't like you at all. [ Vincent corrects. ] I only use the word "like" to people I'm certain wouldn't enjoy me talking about them how I normally view people. And that is if they're a high enough investment for me. [ He may have walked straight into a chair as he's walking about with his arms out in a dark room. So his speech stops as he grumbles something before deciding this is where he's going to sit - thanks. ]

If only I could associate with just dead people.

[Vander was not bothered either way. He was called either word interchangeably, and he did not find one more derogatory than the other. Of course, Vincent currently wasn't aware and again likely didn't care about the meaning of either name.]

You're a very contrary person, but I'm starting to suspect you're one of those that experiences joy through complaint. [He was with Vincent about the music part though. He thought that music was valuable, which was why it was so prevalent in the Lanes and the upper levels of the city. He had not seen much, if any, advertising for bands unfortunately because he would like to attend a concert.]

I wouldn't be offended to you told me I was dirt under your shoe; we barely know each other currently. [And that was why they were meeting in his opinion. Vincent might want to learn about Kindred, but Vander was more interested in learning about Vincent.] Well, I'm twenty-five percent and fluctuating, I figure.

[He wandered in and set the box on the table then produced a corkscrew from his back pocket.] Well, I'm a dead person, so points for me.

Something like that, I suppose.

[ Is he going to get into how he's never experienced happiness? No. He absolutely is not going to get into that, because it's an annoying topic that people seem to have deep feelings about while he is fine just existing until one day he's happy. It's fine, actually. ]

Well, you're not the dirt under my shoe. [ He plops down in the chair that he had initially run into. ] You are. Dirt under my shoe is currently the one sitting at 3%. [ That's right - someone below the baseline. ]

I think I might offer that person a "hello." [ That's about what 3% would get a person. But he does pause at Vander saying he's dead. ] What a coincidence. Me too.

You suppose? As in you're not certain?

[Vander worked the corkscrew into the cork of the bottle of white chardonnay that he had brought with him. With minimal effort, he popped to cork and then put the open bottle back into the box that he had been carrying it around in. He pulled out a small bottle of single malt whiskey for himself.

He offered the box with wine to Vincent.] Your boxed wine. [He then took a seat across from Vincent, looking around the cafe before huffing noisily.] Three perfect? Does my rating reset after each encounter? Or did you just drop me twenty-two percent for calling you out? [He needed to discover these rules of engagement!]

Oh yeah? Practically pals from the grave. How did you die?

Ugh. I know what happiness looks like, is all.

[ His fingers do a little flex as he reaches out to take the box from him. ] Thank you. [ He decides the percentage includes adding that in -- tapping his fingers along the box, he is going to drink from the spout. Thank you. ]

You're not the one that is 3%. I'm just telling you what is dirt under my shoe. [ It's what he says as soon as he sets the box down on the table. He lightly wipes at his mouth to clean off any excess. This is fine since well, they're in the dark, whatever. ] Ratings don't reset after each encounter, but they can change.

[ He hums. ] Stabbed to death.

Okay, what does happiness look like to you?

[Yeah, Vander did not bother with glasses. This was one of this early morning meet ups that had to be casual and that meant informal as well. He unstoppered his bottle and took a swing of whiskey from it.]

Oh, thanks for the clarification. I need to learn this behavioral rating system in time. [At least he was currently maintaining a lively twenty-five percent. He knew that Vincent would let him know immediately if he began slipping from his pedestal.] Is anyone here that low for you? No names necessary, but I am curious.

[He hummed in return.] Almost me too. Not exactly a fun way to leave the mortal coil.

Who's to say? I don't know. I'm still searching for it.

[ His tone turns slightly irritated, but he supposes that the dog will keep asking so it is best to say that much. His eyes roll up as he mulls over something but decides that since he's asking some information that much information is fine. ]

Will that benefit you in any way? [ Vincent feels it benefits him, but does it benefit anyone else? ] The person isn't here, but they will maintain that low percentage regardless. [ He sneers in the dark. ]

No, it isn't. They couldn't even do it in one action. Had to have me bleed out a little first. [ He flicks his wrist to the side, dismissing the statement. ] It's fine. [ His killer and he have made up; God's will is in action with that, it seems. ]

[Vander slowly leaned forward so he could rest his elbow on his knees while his legs were spread. He surveyed Vincent for a few seconds of quiet.]

So you know what it looks like in other people, but you're having trouble experiencing it yourself. You wouldn't be the first to tell me that.

[He was intuitive enough to understand what that meant and perhaps not press further than that. It was answer enough, just as much as knowing that someone existed well below market value for Vincent.]

No, not at all. It was a curiosity to know that such a person existed and maintained dirt under your shoe status. [Otherwise, he didn't care for the details unless Vincent wanted to share.] Sounds like a joyful individual. Hopefully they don't appear here then.

[This was probably the most casual talk about death. Almost felt like home with some people.] I figured that might be the case. I assume it happened just before you arrived here?

Yes, yes, as a bartender I'm sure you hear it a lot. Wah-wah.

[ Both of his hands are up as he makes dismissive gestures with them. He isn't bothered about the lack of happiness he has had in his life so why should other people be upset? The box is being lift up once more to take a drink.

A soft sigh as he sets the box down once more. ] One will hope, but everything is in God's hands. [ He flicks his index finger above them before smiling and laughing. ] Just a joke.

[ He holds his hands out yet again. ] It did, but I've had half a year to get over it. Being upset about dying is worse than -- [ His face scrunches up as he tries to find a good comparison. ] -- anyway, it's nothing. [ He'll use it to try to win arguments, of course, but otherwise, he already decided it was pointless to remain upset about having died. What was the point of it? If the action doesn't yield any result he wants or can't yield any results, there's no point in carrying through with it. ]

Well, part of my occupation is to be sympathetic to the troubles of others while also maintaining a sense of order and respect in my premises.

[He wondered if Vincent had been to many bars, and he decided that it was probably negative. The man probably didn't enjoy being in crowds of people from his initial impressions, and he was assessing that Vincent didn't care much about personal happiness. Maybe it was a religion thing: people need to suffer to be accepted by God or something.

He shrugged his shoulders.] So, does your world have a god of death or just the one that rules over everything?

[He nodded his head, and he made a point of taking a drag from his bottle. Seven months and he was still not over his own yet; not his death, of course, but that of his children. It was a wound that still festered this far on.] Yeah, I can understand. Sometimes it's just... worth yelling at someone about it to let the anger out I suppose.

[ John gets the text and is impressed Vincent actually followed through on it. That's dedication. He can respect that. So he texts back. ]

Where and when?

[ He doesn't want to miss this. ]

[He'd question the average person part, but it's not like Chu Wenshan knows all that much about average civilians.] If you aren't staying active, and you don't keep up your training, then sooner or later you'll start losing strength..........at least that's what I'm told.

[He's had abnormal strength since he was a toddler so it's hard to relate, y'know?]

Wanting to survive is perfectly reasonable. We can just keep up the running then, if you want.

You don't have to be sympathetic to me.

[ He actually might take offense if someone is concerned about how he's not experienced happiness yet. So long as he's alive, he'll one day be happy. That much he believes for himself. Which is probably the only positive about being alive presently. ]

Just the one that rules over everything. We believe She is the true God.

[ Vincent pauses before lightly slapping the top of the table: ] Also, you said you were going to make me something to eat, too? What did you make? [ That is a bit more important than being worried about his death, at the very least. ]

And what anger? Anger's such a useless emotion. [ He flaps his hands yet again as he doesn't see any point in that feeling. ] It's unproductive and doesn't help me achieve anything that I'm trying to here. So, what's the use in yelling about it to anyone? Other than to make them feel bad, I mean?

[ closed ] you see a man

[ closed ] stronhyrr

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