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smokescreen sandalioooooh Mar 11, 76 284 Views
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Started by Valens, May 15, 2018, 10:41 PM
Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 15, 2018, 10:41 PM / 625 Words
You know, being relegated to bringing water in from the well out back, taking care of the horses, and moving heavy objects, was novel the first week or so. Now, well, it was still kind of novel, but it was also, did Kassandros literally pay that many hessions for a proven blood fighter just to... make him a stable boy? Apparently.

Not to imply he was complaining, it just seemed, at least to him in his narrow purview, to be something of a waste. They weren't his hessions, and he supposed Kassandros could do whatever he wanted with his own, but really, a typical house slave would've been perhaps a more financially sound investment than a blood fighter. Granted, there was very little Valens was unable to move. Wrestling with 400 pound lions and taking bears down did tend to lend to a level of physical tone that most typical house slaves notably lacked, but then, then. Valens started thinking about the intelligence of letting a blood fighter accustomed to fighting bears around him and not having some kind of fall-back plan if he should get it in mind to get nasty.

Because, was Kassandros aware Valens could probably snap him in two? Just saying. Not that he would, House Essair had been peaceful, in a way he hadn't expected a Dalmascan house to ever be, to the point it was bordering on boring, but what if he did? Admittedly, he'd watched Kassandros go through combat drills in the afternoon and spend mornings dancing (did he know his eyes glowed after he sat in the sun?), so he wasn't exactly weak, for a highborn Dalmascan at least, but that was really more into the semantics realm. Valens wasn't interested in semantics, in most instances. He just did what he was told, anymore.

He'd lost his fight, a long time ago. Oh, sure, it was there somewhere; a Macenian never was truly docile, after all, even if they'd apparently calmed to some extent. But he didn't take offence to everything, anymore. House Essair had given him, thus far, no reason to bare his fangs, and he'd kept them to himself. ... this wearing clothes thing, though, that was going to grate every nerve he had. He was getting used to it, but he still often reached up and rubbed at his neck, where his shirt collar met his skin. At least the fabric wasn't murderously hot, but Dalmasca hadn't warmed up all the way, just yet, the air still cool and crisp, but not cold. It was starting to get sticky, though. Eugh.

Easily, he carried a couple buckets of well water, meandering into the foyer. He'd already refilled the water trough, and scattered more hay, and now the kitchen ilim, er, Leon, probably wanted water to make breakfast and all that. Master Essair wasn't here, at the moment (wasn't that weird, he literally left the ilim healer woman, Merenwen, in charge when he left, and he left), but nobody knew where he'd gone. He quietly shuffled to the kitchen, set the buckets down, and then blinked. At the equally gigantic Macenian helping Leon.

Uh. Probably unsurprisingly, he just arched an eyebrow up in confusion, and tilted his head. Kind of looked familiar, actually. He shouldn't ponder this too long. Anyway. He was going to ask if Leon needed anything, but uhm, probably not.

@Lenara

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 16, 2018, 11:16 AM / 396 Words
It was very unsettling, as someone who'd been purchased as a bodyguard, to wake up and have absolutely no idea where his charge had gone. What use as a guard was he if he wasn't around and of course, Sandalio hadn't the faintest idea where Kassandros had even been going, which meant he couldn't just follow and meet up with him wherever-it-was. Sure, okay the kid was probably confident he'd be fine. But there was a reason he and Lycaon had been bought for just that purpose.

And the ridiculous number of assassins the day they'd been bought only really underscored that problem. Ugh.

Despite his irritation, Sandalio was quietly assisting in the kitchen, keeping his expression bland. He wasn't talking much, but well that could easily be chalked up to not being entirely awake yet. Idly he wondered why the Ilim wouldn't just let Kass move these shelves down. It was easier to bend down than climb up. ... ... Did they understand that? At any rate, Sandalio was not quite up for getting in the middle of that, so he mostly just obediently got what was needed and stayed out of the way.

At the sound of someone entering the kitchen, Sandalio looked over his shoulder. And... it took most of his reflexes to keep from dropping the knife he'd been working with. Um. Setting that down for a moment to turn and look at the other man better. Heavens, he was tall. Okay, well, roughly the same height as Sandalio himself.

But there was something... achingly familiar about him. He'd be just about the right age, really. Sandalio shook his head sharply. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sandalio." Politely. 

... And using his real name would mean that if the guy was as familiar as he looked, he'd recognize it. Yes, that seemed the safest way to go around that particular subject. He'd had no idea that he and Lycaon weren't the only titans running around the Estate. ... Which probably only underscored just how big the place was.

He did to back to cutting up what he'd been working on in the first place, finally. ... For the moment, at least.

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 16, 2018, 11:43 PM / 383 Words
S-

That wasn't a terribly common name, Valens knew. Tristán. Maybe he should get used to being Tristán, again, because it wasn't as if Kassandros called him by any other name, and, probably mimicking their head of house, none of the slaves did, either. Being honest, it was strange, as he'd not been called that name in over a decade, now, had almost forgotten it. Still, where the hell did Kassandros dig that name up from? It really wasn't the point.

Sandalio. The only one he'd ever heard of was his younger brother. Tristán tilted his head, a bit further, actually looking at him better. He kind of looked like papi, at least, as far as Tristán could remember of him. It'd been a long time since he'd seen papi, either, but his memory told him it was right. "I'm uh. Nice to meet you too," he answered, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm Tristán." Well, he'd been named that a long time ago, more accurately. He didn't feel like Tristán anymore. Which, was probably part of what made Kassandros insisting on calling him that so... confusing? Was it frustrating? He wasn't sure which word to use. He hadn't been Tristán in a long time. It was weird, to suddenly be called that again.

Many of those in the house insisted that was why Kassandros called them by their real names. Some, even, had forgotten the name the Dalmascans had given them, because they'd been in House Essair so long, they'd not been called that in years, and when they had been, it was for a short period of time. Tristán didn't have that kind of luxury. And it made no sense to him, why a noble Dalmascan would fixate so firmly on something so trivial as his stupid name.

He did wonder, though, if he'd have even recalled, about now, what his birth name was, if Kassandros hadn't insisted on using it. He'd concern himself with that later. Right now, he supposed it really didn't matter.

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 18, 2018, 10:47 AM / 378 Words
Tristán. Sandalio let that rattle around in his head for a moment, still looking at the other. He was familiar, really familiar. It'd been years, but his name... of course, Sandalio's name was the one that stood out. Tristán wasn't terribly uncommon. And yet. And yet. There was something... something about him. If it had just been the name, he could have dismissed it. But it was not.

What in the hell were the chances of this shit anyway? Was this something else Kassandros had done on purpose, trying to reunite families? He'd done a few things now that almost seemed like that was what he was trying to do. It was an odd thing for a Dalmascan to care about, reuniting families that had long since excepted that they were never going to see each other again. Or had it been an accident, he just happened to also have a third Macenian titan around the house.

Sandalio didn't really know enough about the situation to decide if it could have been an accident or a purposeful action that he couldn't fathom the reasoning behind. He shook his head slightly, trying to brush off the thoughts and stay a bit more focused on the here and now.

"I don't suppose you had siblings. Brothers?" It seemed to be one of the easier ways to even confirm if this was the same Tristán or not. Figuring out if they were even the same person seemed prudent before getting too excited about it anyway. Still, it was awfully coincidental if it wasn't Tristán after all.

Somewhere in his heart, Sandalio was sure it was. He just needed to convince his logical mind, too. He was never going to finish what he was working on though, if he kept focusing on this with Tristán instead. Maybe he should just let it go until after breakfast was finished, at the very least. It was probably a better idea than being distracted while cooking. ... Even if he was just doing prep work for Leon.

Yeah that was... that was probably a better idea. Okay.

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 18, 2018, 08:11 PM / 484 Words
Interesting first question. In hindsight, it wasn't surprising, because Val - Tristán was wondering the same thing. He remembered he had two brothers, couldn't recall his parents' names. To him, they were just papi and mama, and when he'd heard their names, it'd been through someone else calling them by it. He'd been thirteen, he thought, somewhere around there, when the Dalmascans got him, and you hadn't figured out what your parents' names were, hadn't had it fully sink in, by then. Something with an 'E'... his mother's name was something with an 'E'. Eneida? Maybe. Eneida... it sounded right, but also didn't, at the same time. It'd been too long; he didn't really have it on recall, anymore, and, in thinking about it, he was surprised he'd lost so much.

He'd had other things to worry about, he supposed. It'd just gotten pushed aside, as it wasn't important right then, and, he'd forgotten. But that was the point, wasn't it, Dalmasca often sought to make you forget, because if all you remembered was Dalmasca, even if the cage doors were open, you were afraid to leave it. Now wasn't really the time to think of that. It didn't matter. The younger brother, what was his name.. he honestly didn't remember Sandalio's name, until he said it, either. Tristán looked up at the ceiling, following the patterns in the wood beams, up there, thinking.

"Two, younger than me," he answered, his tone thoughtful. "Sandalio and... and... fuck." Ahh, it was one thing to forget his parents' names, another to forget his brothers'. Don't get frustrated, it wouldn't help, anyway. He'd used those names all the time, it had to be in his head somewhere. A breath in, closing his eyes, thinking... the other name, what was it...

In his head, he could hear his younger self, chasing his younger brother around the fire, trying to get him to sit still so mama could give him a bath. He'd fallen into a mud puddle. And by fallen, it was more likely he'd jumped. 'Hold still,' he'd said. 'Mama doesn't have the energy to chase you around, -'

"Rosalio," quiet, almost surprised, eyes snapping back open. "Sandalio and Rosalio." He remembered now. Funny enough, now that he'd remembered his youngest brother's name, there were more memories he could recall, memories that weren't there before. No, they were, just buried. Tristán tilted his head, again, watching the other. "You can't possibly be the same one." Things like this, by chance, they didn't happen in Dalmasca.

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 21, 2018, 11:26 PM / 430 Words
Two brothers, both younger than him. The coincidences were stacking up to be fair too much for Sandalio to genuinely believe it was some sort of a mistake. So, of course, even before Tristán actually found the name he was looking for, Sandalio was rather certain that this one was his older brother. The Macenian didn't say anything though, keeping quiet for a bit and waiting to see if Tristán would produce the name without it being offered to him.

... Maybe he should give up on this and just see if Lycaon could take over for him. Certainly his interest was much more focused on his brother than what he was helping to cook. That was natural, he thought. But since he wasn't giving this his full attention it wasn't really fair.

Ah. "Rosalio." Sandalio affirmed quietly. "You were taken at 13. I was 11." Quietly. "And then I was taken about three years later." It felt strange saying that aloud. But there it was. But yes, he was the same one, the chances of there being two sets of brothers with exactly the same names seemed... astronomically low. Never mind his own name was rather rare. "If you were taken when I think... it would have been about thirteen years ago. If that's right then... I guess you have your answer."

Of all the ways to find his brother, this wasn't what Sandalio had expected. To be fair, he hadn't expected anything. Unless Dalmasca, in a cruel twist of fate, had set him to fight his own brother. Fate had not been so unkind. And Sandalio would thank his lucky stars for that.

"I should... hang on." Sandalio shuffled over to the door of the kitchen and poked his head out before calling out to Lycaon. It didn't take long for the other blood fighter to make an appearance. "Can you take over in here?" Lycaon glanced between the the two for a moment and said nothing, merely gesturing at Sandalio to shoo before going to where he'd been working originally.

"...Okay." It was just probably a good idea to admit he wasn't going to be able to stay focused on helping in the kitchen with the current revelations going on.

"This is the part where I admit I have no idea what to say, I think." At least he was honest?

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 23, 2018, 12:04 AM / 543 Words
Thirteen sounded right. Thinking about it, he couldn't quite remember, but it felt right, at least. And three years later, Sandalio followed him. He had to wonder about their youngest brother. With any luck, he was still in Macenia, most likely fighting off Dalmascan expansion, but fate was rarely ever so generous. Most likely, he'd followed, too. Tristán couldn't help but wonder what had become of their parents, if they'd stayed in Macenia, if maybe they'd had more kids, if they were here, somewhere, too, or dead now. There was little sense in wondering; it wasn't as if he'd ever know. He'd be glad, he supposed, that his life was relatively easy here, at least in this House, be glad House Essair was kinder than most, and be glad for finding at least one of his relatives. The chances of finding even one were, of course, astronomically low. Dalmasca was a big place, and people died all the time.

Incidentally, thirteen years ago, now. Had it really been? Tristán had very little concept of numbers, even now, couldn't read or write, either, but he'd never needed to be capable of any of the aforementioned. That sounded right, too, but he wasn't entirely sure. If Sandalio had been eleven, though, that was about right, so his age lined up, at least. That would make him... how old was Tristán, now? Twenty six, was it? Sandalio was twenty four, then. "I guess so," he answered, a wistful, soft smile on his face. Yeah, he guessed so. The parallels were too numerous. The chances of a set of siblings with the exact same names at the exact right ages, well, even if he couldn't do maths very well, he recognised the chances were slim, and, this was indeed probably his brother. It'd been a long time, and, being honest about it, he wasn't sure what to do with it.

He looked perhaps a bit amused. There apparently was another titan wandering around. How many of those did House Essair have? It was idle curiosity, really.

"I don't, either," he admitted. "But, I do have to get this other bucket over to the little healer ilim, at the very least, and... then I guess we can stare at each other until we figure out what to say." Tristán sounded more amused, than anything, picking up one of the two buckets of water he'd brought in. "Blood fighter too, I suppose? I've only ever fought lions and bears and stuff, probably why we've not run into one another until now." Most likely, yes. "I don't get why master Essair spent so much on a stable boy, but, I guess that's none of my business."

And yet, if he thought about it, remembered what the other slaves in the house said, he could extrapolate it had something to do with Sandalio eventually being here. Kassandros, of course, if the rumours were to be believed, rarely ever accidentally did anything.

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 24, 2018, 03:41 PM / 403 Words
Tristán and Rosalio. Sandalio wondered about the other siblings, but decided it didn't matter in the end. And, to be fair, it didn't. It didn't matter if he wondered because the chances of finding one of his brothers had been insanely slim. The chances of finding the other one too? No, it wouldn't happen. Still, he hoped that their third brother was back in Macenia somewhere, still fighting off the Dalmascan incursion. He didn't believe it, really. But it didn't really matter.

"That's Lycaon." Tilting his head slightly at the other bloodfighter. "We were brought into the house together." They had been, and they'd been in the last house together, too, but that was probably unnecessary information at the moment. It would eventually come up, something about house Kenleigh, but Sandalio would be lying if he said he didn't mind talking about what had happened there. A whole lot of absolutely nothing good, that's what.

Ah. Well that was fair, he supposed. He nodded. "Okay." Needed to go by the healer Ilim to give her water, of course because clean water was pretty important for her job he supposed. He followed after Tristán so they could continue their conversation at least, even if it was a little stunted still while they both processed the reality of the fact that they'd fun into each other and recognized each other when they'd both grown up and changed. ... Though maybe not so drastically as he'd thought.

"Yes." He agreed mildly. "And that... does explain that. I'll be thankful for it." Yes, he could. "I'm not sure what I'd have done faced with you in the Arena." Been very pissed off at the idiot Dalmascan holding his chains and calling this a good idea, for certain. And a shrug. "Who knows. I don't... understand him quite yet." Sandalio wasn't sure he would either. But they'd see, in time.

"Lycaon and I were bought as bodyguards, so Kassandros claims." And then, of course, he left them here when he went by himself to who-knew-where and they had no idea how much danger he was in, so that was fantastic.

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 24, 2018, 11:02 PM / 428 Words
It was kind of nice to get the other's name. Lycaon. He didn't terribly look like a wolf, but he was sure it made some sense to someone, that someone just wasn't him, that's all. Tristán decided not to comment on it; instead, he just nodded in greeting and waved at him, a bit. Eventually, he'd probably talk to the other titan, but for right now, he was, probably understandably, more interested in his brother. Despite the fact he had no idea what he was supposed to say. Hey, long time no see, how ya been, well, jee, how do you think?

A nod, at that, wandering down the hall. He'd memorised the way to the infirmary, because he was always in there asking if Merenwen needed anything. "I dunno. I'd have probably sat down and not moved," Tristán admitted. "... and screeched something unpleasant in Macenian." At least he was honest? He figured that was a bright side. But Tris hardly ever wasn't. It just wasn't in his nature to lie or skirt around the truth, not because the Dalmascans took such things badly, but, because what was the point?

He'd never gotten the point of lying. It was so much work, you had to remember what lie you told to whom, and then keep the story consistent, and just tracking one lie was hard.

"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Hard to guard somebody that's not here. Tough shit." Tris shook his head. "It takes a bit for things to sink in, with him, I think. He's always seemed half here and half somewhere else to me. Not sure if that's what I mean..." Well, that was as close as he could get it. Always one eye watching the present, one eye watching the future. Tris had to wonder if all seers were like that, or if it was just Kassandros. "I kind of like him, though. May have to just follow him around, until he remembers he's got guards." It was a good thing he did, too. Tristán hadn't seen many come onto the grounds, but enough did, it was concerning. What was it like, without the stone walls and the barbed wire in the way? How bad did it get, outside the grounds? He was almost afraid of wondering too hard.

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 26, 2018, 05:08 PM / 369 Words
"That sounds like the best way to handle it." Mildly. He imagined Gannicus and Spartacus would have done the same thing were they were faced with one another on the battlefield. Still... it would have been distressing, even if they both refused to fight one another. And their respective masters would, of course, have been furious. Not that Sandalio hadn't been beaten for far, far less before. Ah. Anyway, that was extremely morbid.

Sandalio snorted. "Yes, yes it is." His tone was a cross between amused and slightly annoyed. Sandalio did listen though, rather carefully, to Tristán's impressions of Kassandros. If nothing else, he'd been here slightly longer, it seemed, and might have made some observations that Sandalio had not had time to yet. Different people also tended to perceive things differently, and the insight might be nice. He nodded a bit, to himself. He did seem a little distracted sometimes, and apparently Tristán had noticed that as well.

Heh. "On the one hand I'm not sure how I feel stalking our master." Mildly. "But on the other, I'm pretty sure you're right in that it may be the only way." Ah, at least effectively. "And someone really has it out for his neck so..." He really didn't like the idea of Kassandros being out there without a guard - that was literally what they'd been bought for, to help with the assassins and keep Kass, well, alive.

"He seems like a decent enough guy, as far as Dalmascans go." Actually he didn't seem much like a Dalmascan, as far as things went. And if nothing else, they'd be scattered again if Kassandros died, and that was the last thing he really wanted. ... Yes, that was good incentive to want to keep the guy alive. Decent house, willing to keep them together... no, no one wanted to be scattered over the market again, thank you. It was more of a gamble than the Arena itself, sometimes. At least the Arena had some sliding scale for skill making it 'better'.

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 27, 2018, 08:26 PM / 329 Words
Probably. Maybe the only way to handle it, unless they wanted to play entertainer for a moment, and pretend they were trying to kill each other, without actually doing it. But in things such as that, it was difficult to manage, without incuring at least some damage, accidental or otherwise, and Tristán wasn't terribly into hurting his brother, even on accident. He probably was far from alone in that sentiment.

He couldn't help the amused look. Yeah, Kassandros was terrible at taking care of himself. Tristán had already figured that part out, a while ago. It was frustrating, in some ways. He couldn't imagine it being any less so, when your job was literally looking after him. "Yeah, someone," Tristán agreed. "No one's told me who, but I figure probably some other noble twat. ... not that Kassandros is a noble twat, anyway." Um, that kind of came out wrong. He shook his head, more to himself. "Strangely." Yeah, strangely.

"Decent in general, I'd say," he said, snorting. "When I first came here, there was another slave, he's gone now, that seemed to have dominance issues, or something. Liked to mess with the ones that couldn't fight him off, if you get the drift. He pushed too far, one day, and Kassandros burned his hand with light sorcery, and told him if he didn't back off and learn to keep his hands to himself, he'd burn his hands off. He didn't take the warning serious. Kassandros actually did it." Two things: one, well that's normal. Two, wow that's really not normal.

"That's the only time I've ever seen him hurt someone. This house doesn't even have whips in it." He'd looked. Trust, he'd looked.

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 28, 2018, 02:29 PM / 394 Words
Snort. Sandalio considered that for a moment, but then nodded. "You're probably right. Some other noble." But who, it was hard to tell. There were lots of reasons people might not like Kassandros, I supposed. They rarely liked that which was different. People didn't like different, and they didn't like things they didn't understand. And Kassandros was aloof enough to be both, he supposed. As it turned out, he liked Kassandros well enough. But he was also a slave and used to extremely rough handling. It wasn't hard to imagine why he'd like someone who was far less rough than usual.

A short laugh there. "It is a little strange, really. He's so... sometimes I wonder if he's even Dalmascan." That was probably kind of rude to wonder, but well. Kass was some sort of a cryptid that just didn't exist here.

Blink. "... Well shit." That was something alright. Kassandros apparently was serious about. It was a little scary, to think that Kassandros was capable of such violence, and it was a reminder that he was still Dalmascan. Still how strange it was that he would do such a thing in the name of protecting another slave. He'd just thank which ever lucky stars that something like that wasn't on the list of things Sandalio was interested in anyway. ... Though it might make him think twice about something even consensual, lest it be taken wrong.

Arch. "It... doesn't?" That seemed strange. But, to be fair about it, Sandalio didn't remember seeing any whips in his movement through the house, either. And he'd certainly been mouthy enough at times that other masters would have already punished him. ... Kass seemed to find it more amusing than anything. This was some how comforting and now, because how exactly did Kass keep order without such things. ... Apparently by burning hands off. Granted it had only been that once, according to Tristán, but still.

There was also the fact that Kassandros seemed to command respect mostly be being kind, as Umbrius had. At least, with his slaves. So it was possible then that he just didn't feel the need to use force to keep things under control.

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
May 29, 2018, 02:30 AM / 515 Words
Yeah, Tris had started wondering that, too. And maybe that was why he'd figured it out. He didn't know the stories. He didn't know the history behind it. But, someone, maybe more than one someone, had seriously hurt Kassandros, at some point. And he was young, too, maybe too young to be standing under the weight of what Dalmasca was. It wasn't hard, really, to presume that, the head of such a major house, such a powerful one, one with meaning to its name, might be in rather the huge amount of danger, just by breathing.

Because Dalmascans wanted power, and many were willing to go to rather insane lengths to get it. Even if it meant destroying someone else, even if it meant killing and manipulating. He was making rather massive strides toward making House Essair more of a name to know, more powerful and influential, making the name Essair mean more, and that threatened all the other major houses, even some minor ones that had their eyes on replacing House Essair as a major house. Yeah. Now that he thought about it, that made as much sense as Tris had ever made of Kassandros Essair.

It kind of made him mad.

"You know how Dalmascans are," Tristán started. "They ever want more than they have, and gods forbid someone else get it. So imagine a boy barely a man takes over one of the major houses. He's young. He's not had time to gain the influence his father had, he's weaker, he doesn't play the political games and deflect the typical Dalmascan traps as well. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out." Tris let out a huff. "Someone hurt him. Maybe several someones. Kass understands people like us better than most Dalmascans, because just like Dalmasca turned on us, it turned on him, too." How grand a nation Dalmasca was, that it even failed its own citizens, hmm? "Dalmascan in blood he may be, he is not in heart." He didn't have consistent enough bite to be Macenian. Maybe Galacese.

Tris gave Sandalio a look, pushing the infirmary door open, and setting the water down just inside. He let the door close behind him, as he wandered back out into the hall. "No whips," he repeated. "No chains, either, except the ones made to pull or hold structure." So he didn't like rape, didn't like whips, and didn't like chains. It spoke louder than any words Tristán could come up with.

"The weird thing is, I think if that slave had decided to pin Kassandros to the floor, Kass wouldn't have done anything at all. Everyone says when someone gets abusive at him, he just takes it." And he wasn't sure what to think, about that. "Welcome to House Weird, I guess."

Valerius
No title
Blood Fighter
66 Posts 24 Years male 6'2'' House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Lenara
May 30, 2018, 10:41 PM / 318 Words
It didn't take much for Sandalio to realize that Tris was right, but it also didn't mean that he wasn't just slightly angry at the realization. Ah, but the picture he painted was so painfully likely. Dalmasca was cruel, even to its own, and the quest for power could certainly drive many of them to those extremes. Never mind, he was extremely young now and he had no idea how long Kass had been trying to lead house Essair by himself.

"The more I actually think about Dalmasca, the less I like it as a whole." There were decent people in it, Kassandros was one, Umbrius had been another. But... overall, the people were corrupt and the nobility were terribly corrupt. There was not much to be done for that, but Sandalio thought the brutality of the Arena was cleaner, at least. ... It was sad, to think that. SO many innocent lives wasted, but the ones destroyed outside of the Arena, they were just as numerous.

"No whips and no chains." Hm. "He took my chains, and Lycaon's, off immediately after buying us and then handed us swords. I remember that." It obviously had been hard to forget. "I'm not sure why I didn't equate that to a genuine dislike of them." He hadn't really thought about it. But ah, that said... a lot. It really did. Whips, chains, and rape. What a combination, eh?

"...I'm not sure I like that." Then again, he was the bodyguard, of course he didn't. It was concerning to think that Kass would refuse to defend himself, if put to it. "Ah, yeah. I guess." House weird. How had he ended up in two separate houses that were this radically strange?

Valens
No title
Blood Fighter
11 Posts 26 Years Male 6' 2 House Essair Blood Fighter Written by Esmera
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.
Jun 01, 2018, 01:48 AM / 358 Words
Tris snorted. "Yeah, me too." He'd been lucky, for the most part; generally, he existed, but most of the time his Dalmascan owners never remembered that, and left him to his own devices. He only had to deal with taking down lions and bears, which was different from fighting humes capable of logical reasoning, so his training was even different than other blood fighters', and for some reason, the noblewomen with the irritating high pitched squeal-laughs tended to like the ones that fought humes more than the ones in Tristán's class, so he didn't even have to fuck a lot.

"Maybe he didn't seem to actually dislike them at the time?" he suggested. "He's not terribly open, and all. Be pretty easy to miss, I'd think." Uh, actually, Tris almost expected him to freeze shit by the sheer force of his emotional repression. He was never terribly obviously distant, he seemed to genuinely be trying to connect with others, but there was so much under the surface, even if he didn't intend to, he still clearly held others at a very long distance, and maybe nobody really had the ability to close that gap, entirely. He seemed to be alone, at least he was the only Essair Tristán had ever met. It wasn't hard to imagine he'd just lost everyone else he had and didn't want to lose again. Dalmascan noble lines tended to be rather numerous. Who knew, how many he'd lost.

He was only seventeen, after all. Even losing one was a lot, at that age, Tris would know.

Another snort, amused this time, escaped. "Of course not," he answered. "You're his guard. He's a decent guy. If nothing else, someone ought to help keep the decent ones standing." It was just unfortunate, that the less than decent ones tended to take them down, sooner or later, because they weren't as adverse to dirty tricks as the good ones were.

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