The district sleeps alone tonight. [Albel]

[Fayt Leingod]

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[atrb=style, border-bottom: 3px solid #a08f87] What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?

[atrb=style,padding: 0px 26px; border-top: 8px solid #3e2e31; border-bottom: 8px solid #3e2e31;] The desert city was really rather beautiful, in that exotic yet barren kind of way. Certainly a lot... brighter and more vivid than Archades, and its people seemed hardened as well - to be expected, since they lived and thrived in such a harsh landscape. The only place he could even start to compare it to would be Surferio, and yet it was worlds apart from the Sanmite city as well... All in all, it was a welcome and invigorating change of scenery for the postmodern Earthling, having been raised in a land of technologically-advanced, and through artificial means, climatically-uniform locales - humankind had gotten their money's worth out of every square mile of Earth, that had been for certain. Even in Whipple he had been taken aback by the sheer appreciation they had for nature - perhaps not due to their own wishes, since their technology had been a millennium short of that of the Pangalactic Federation's, but nevertheless. That forest had changed a lot of things for him. Needless to say, he'd never seen a desert city before. As well-acquainted as he might have become with the Mosel Dunes (and to an extent Styx, and wasn't that a wonderful thought), the closest village had been the Lost City, protected from the creeping sands by a small range of mountains and the river upon which it was built. It wasn't that it was unexpected that humans would find a foothold in a place like the desert to build a civilization, but still - and really, he should stop debating this with himself right now because there was nothing productive about chasing his own thoughts around his head. Right now he really wished he had Cliff or Maria or Sophia for company. Heck, even Mirage. He could have had this conversation with any one of them - and of course, Albel would be the only one of his friends (all right, all right, barring Roger) that would look at him as if he'd grown another head, were he to start presenting his thoughts on the subject. Ha, ha. It was sort of depressing how his thoughts always looped around to the other man, Fayt thought sardonically to himself, thumb tripping over the final metal latch on the underside of his left thigh, clipping the segment of armor in place atop its predecessors. Really it should be too hot, way too hot for this kind of plate, but right now he figured it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to protection. They were, after all, supposedly-wanted fugitives. Exiled at the very least. The bluenette shook his head as if to toss that thought out of mind, inhaling the dry desert air that streamed in from the small window open behind him, the one that admitted the burning sun to toast a square of the sparse quilt decorating the foot of the bed he sat on the edge of. Pushing off the firm mattress with his palms and rising to his feet, Fayt snatched a ripe peach from the unassuming bowl on the table and tossed it to his other hand, making doubly sure to grab his recently-treated sword and return it to its scabbard on the way, reaching the other side of the room in sixteen strides and pulling the door closed behind him. Time to find a certain positively murderous Glyphian. TAGGED ▷ Albel WORD COUNT ▷ 578 NOTES ▷ Peaches are an integral part of one's diet. :U

[atrb=style, color: 3e2e31; border-top: 3px solid #a08f87] What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay?

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[Albel Nox]

POST BY ALBEL NOX

!!!

THE WEAK AREN'T WORTH MY WHILE

LET ME SEE YOU SQURIM.

YOU'VE GIVEN IN TO - RECKLESS DARK DESIRES

'Dammit. Not here either.' It was completely uncharacteristic (or was it?) for Albel to be out not killing things, But he wanted to find them. Not only them but the one who really murdered Garnet. Though...how would he obtain the information was something he couldn't phantom. The only possible way, it seemed, was to search for the person who did it and make them confirm it.

Easier said than done. He could research on the poison (which was why Albel kept his distance from Fayt as of late - he was pretty sure Fayt would convince him he's gone mad) to figure out where the contents of it came from. But...at the same time, he liked this position. On the run with his lover...the only part he didn't like was how it sounded like a sick romantic novel.

Plus, since the day he met Fayt, he had felt guilt that he hasn't, and still hasn't, shown. Why? He dragged Fayt with him. He dragged him through Archades, he had Fayt experience war, he had Fayt be wanted for the death of a Queen neither of them killed...but, out of all of that, they did manage to realize both of their love together. Speaking of which...

Albel's scarred arm burned from within the confides of his cloak (his gauntlet would be too much of a give-away that he was one of those wanted for the murder of Garnet.) but thanks to him turning the way he did, he caught a glimpse of blue hair and immediately followed suit. Hmm. It seemed like he was out long enough to make the other realize his absence.

Albel smirked a bit as he followed the other, behind him of course, as he was closing up on him, but not enough for him to be suspicious in the small crowd of people. When he got close enough, Albel let his cloak touch the side of Fayt's left arm, his eyes staring at him. "Were you looking for me?" Albel said, and almost cooed.

But Albel the Wicked doesn't coo. He just doesn't.

D I S C O N N E C T

& SELF DESTRUCT

[Fayt Leingod]

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[atrb=style, border-bottom: 3px solid #a08f87] What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?

[atrb=style,padding: 0px 26px; border-top: 8px solid #3e2e31; border-bottom: 8px solid #3e2e31;] Of course, it wasn't like he'd been sitting on his ass either. Aside from designing a more efficient gauntlet for the man he happened to be sharing a room with, there were several puzzles Leingod had been working to piece together as of late, the mystery of the death of Queen Garnet of Alexandria among them... something he didn't really enjoy thinking about, but how could he not? Every waking second of life, right now, was a direct result of that night a few weeks ago. Quit brooding, a voice cut in as he sidestepped past a colorful Seeq running in the opposite direction. Fayt rolled his eyes at nothing in particular, grip shifting on the peach that felt odd against his unusually bare palm. Are you ever going to stop spying on my thoughts? It doesn't suit you, the pegasus continued over the woefully perpetual psychic link, not missing a beat. ... Then again, nor does thinking.

[/color]

Quiet, you. This whole flying horse mentor thing had grown old fairly fast once Faire Virer had taken to insulting him. It had been pretty interesting for the first month or so, during which he might as well have had a random fortune-cookie generator installed in his brain, but (in Fayt's opinion) Albel had begun to rub off a little too much on the damn horse.

And of course, speak of the devil and he shall appear (though he really couldn't say that, as he'd been the one looking for him), as the moment his searching gaze was distracted by a wandering pair of Viera crossing the street to his right -

the telltale fwap and brush of a cloak against his left forearm gave away the man's presence before he so much as spoke, but Fayt doubted Albel was that careless to alert his "prey" before he struck. He's feeling theatrical today.

"Were you looking for me?" he lilted.

"What do you think?" Fayt responded, and offered the peach. "Thought you might want to eat something before going to torture the innocent or whatever you do for fun."

The joke was only half-hearted. For obvious reasons, the bluenette hadn't been in the mood for joking around lately, not really. Regardless of whether or not his hand was empty, he folded his arms and cast a cursory glance over the panopticon that connected the three Gates into the city. The crossing wasn't as busy as he'd thought it would be, but that was hardly relevant.

"... What should we do?" And it didn't take a scientist to deduce he meant more in that question than the to-do list.
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TAGGED ▷ Albel
WORD COUNT ▷ 469
NOTES ▷ Two Albels is one too many, apparently.

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What am I supposed to say

when I'm all choked up and you're okay?

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