ten_fwd | first hunt

first hunt | OTA

While he was overjoyed to be reunited with Agatha, Dimo found that being limited to a very small range on the ship was wearing on him. As the time wore on, a routine developed--to the shared rest quarters, down the hall, ride the lift, Ten Forward. Spend a couple of hours in Ten Forward, then reverse that pattern. And how did anyone on this ship function with this synthehol stuff? With his monstrous metabolism, it didn't even get him tipsy. Still, there was a fascinating variety of people here, human and non, good food, and the view...he couldn't complain about the view.

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Then perhaps on one of his trips to Ten Forward the smell of actual alcohol might draw him. The pair sat at one of the larger tables, though they were alone. She was sipping brandy from a rather large snifter, her necklaces catching the light when she turned the page. One was an hour glass pendant with all the gold dust locked in the bottom chamber. The other was a gemstone, a purple dusk jewel in a simple setting. Her skin was sunkissed gold, her hair jet black, and her eyes as they lingered over the pages were gold and flashing.

The man with her was drinking from a goblet, something that smelled both of wine and... of blood. To a sensitive enough nose there was the faintest scent of rotting meat about him. Like the woman, he had golden eyes and black hair, his skin ever so slightly paler than hers. In coloring and general features, they were alike enough to be related, though they weren't. She wore a loose sweater over her dress. He wore a shirt slashed open to show the green jewel he wore on a chain, and loose pants that fell over the tops of his boots.

And something about them both looked like danger. He sipped the bloodwine as he watched the room.

Now that...that smelled interesting, and looked interesting, to boot. The combination of blood and booze was almost enough to make the Jaeger homesick. He observed the pair for several long minutes, and when he was more or less certain that they wouldn't immediately take offense to his presence, he straightened his hat and sauntered over to their table.

"Zo, vhat in de hell does hyu have to do to get zome of dot?" He nodded to the beverage. "First decent drink I haz zeen around here."

As soon as he headed towards them, he probably would notice that the man slid his chair subtly to stay between him and the woman, and became more wary. Protective.

"Generally," he said, eyeing him, "ask. It is a vintage from home. Of course, it is much too strong for most." Mother Night, and may the Darkness have mercy, what was this.... person?

Without really asking to see if they wanted his company or not, the Jaeger snagged a chair from a vacant table, pulling it up next to the man and across the table from the lady. "Vhoops," he said with a chuckle, shrugging apologetically, "must have left de manners behind in my qvarters. Mind if I snag zome? If it iz too strong, dot'll be a nize surprize for me. Not a lot of goot strong schtuff on dis ship, from vhat I haz had zo far."

Theiorn eyed him appraisingly, then shrugged. Another goblet appeared, along with the wine bottle. He poured some of the thick blood scenting alcohol into the second goblet and closed the bottle, making it vanish. He lifted the goblet and set it spinning in the air slowly over a tongue of witchfire. "You want to let it warm some, or it will be thick and clotted. It's sheepsblood."

Though he wondered to himself how in the hell his host had caused the bottle to appear and disappear, he wasn't in any position to ask questions. After all...well, after all, real alcohol. With blood. It was practically a picnic back home. Appearing more or less unphased, he nodded, and licked his lips. "Vell of courze. Clotted iz an acquired taste. Not zo much my ting."

He accepted it with surprising delicacy, letting the mixed scent of blood and booze waft up to his nostrils, before taking a slow, appreciative sip, the enjoyment clearly evident on his face.

He vanished the flame as the ....man?....took the drink. He leaned back, sipping from his own goblet.

"From the SaDiablo Vineyards. I'm not sure what you do for money in your world, but if you have something they would find of value, I can see if they would be interested in a trade agreement."

"Depends," Dimo replied, taking another long, grateful sip of the drink. "Vhat sorts of tings gots value to dem?"

"For the SaDiablo family?" he asked, considering. "I'm not certain, but we could send your offer to them if you like. I will deliver to you their response. I know at the minimum they will want to know about your physiology, so they can produce a wine best suited to you."

Dimo opened his mouth, about to respond, but then came the fateful mention of what made him tick. Taking another swig of the beverage, he clucked his tongue and waggled a disapproving finger. "Can't do dot vithout permission. Iz a trade secret, und hyu vould have to ask de Mistress for dot."

"What you are... is a trade secret...." Ailyshia asked, her voice heavy with scorn and sarcasm. "Congratulations, Theiorn, we may have finally found a male more frustrating than you are," her words were so dry they could have caught fire. She sipped her brandy, eyes narrowed at them both. It was tempting... so tempting... to take that side step into madness, and see what he truly was, with the patina of reality removed.

"I dun make de rules, sveethot," Dimo replied with a shrug. "Can't let hyu have de details , but if hyu vants a better look, I tink de Mistress vill forgive me dot. My dance card iz vide open right now," he added with a salacious grin.

"I don't dance," she said flatly, the air chilling around them.

Theiorn stiffened slightly. "Perhaps we should have this discussion some other time, just us males," he said quickly.

"Later," Dimo agreed, scooting his chair back a tiny bit from Aiylisha's side of the table. Dangerous women were exciting, no doubt about that, but ones that seemed to be Sparks were best avoided and humored in the meantime.

Theiorn nodded. "Until then."

Ailyshia was watching him through narrowed eyes, suddenly seeming sharp and suspicious. The air remained chilled.

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first hunt | OTA

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