Private Tales Sorrows can Swim

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Academics had never been Zinnia's strong suit and, interested as she was, she would've had a hard time following along even sober. Still, as she downed yet another tankard of mead, she couldn't help but be enchanted by what Alistair was saying.

"My hammer's still a weapon without magic, sure, but it's not very  cool without magic. Probably less good than just a normal hammer, what with the crystal in the head and stuff," she pondered, swinging her legs back and forth over her barstool. "Definitely b-better than an empty hilt though, I'll give you that."

Woah, dizzy. It felt like the world was swaying, like when Zinnia had ridden on ships but with less seasickness for some reason. Suddenly Zinnia planted her hands on her knees, squinted at Al, and leaned towards him as if giving him a thorough inspection.

"You're...sssssmart," she finally slipped out, then booped Alistair on the nose. With a smile and a giggle she finished with a loud whisper: "I like that!"
 
Of course, her magic would make her hammer more impressive, but Vel Anir had countless magical craftsmen who were skilled at producing magical weapons. Although there were not many truly good rune mages in the city which meant magical items often lacked...finesse or creativity.

He noticed the sway and reached close to grab her before she fell over only to have someone booped him in the nose...That had never happened before. That was too close. Al swiftly leaned back in his seat and seemed stunned for a few seconds.

"Um...thanks, I guess."

Alistair reached out and took another long swig of his drink before forcing through the conversation.

"I put in a lot of effort to not be dumb I guess. And you are...really skilled. It's hard to find many Dreadlords that can carve through a battlefield like you."

Zinnia
 
Whoops. Alistair hadn't seemed to like that. Though it was nice of him to at least put Zinnia back on her balance. She took that as what little consolation it was, doing a full spin on her bar stool before resting both of her arms on the counter.

"I tried being smart. Never was good at it. Baaarely scraped by in math, and only did okay in history because it was...neat. Sure, I read and stuff, but I mostly did that cuz there wasn't anything else to do alone in my room all the time," she went on woozily. "Salak liked that I could sniff stuff out though, so he put me in with the...sssstalkers. Ya know, I thought killing Soleil would get me in trouble? Instead it got me into a special proga...pogr...program. Go figure."

Gold eyes shifted sharply from the counter back to Oz.
"It's all I've got, Al. I fight like a demon cuz I'm strong like one...and sometimes I look like one."

She ended her last sentence in a loud, raspy whisper, hand cupped to her mouth, then turned back to drown herself further in her mug.
"I'm glad you don't...gotta deal with that. Who wants to deal with that? It's a...m-mess. Smarty pants."
 
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Alistair was silent for a very long moment. Had she just said what he thought she said? No, that had to be the drinks messing with his hearing, but...could his inebriated brain really come up with that? If what she said was true then...Zinnia had killed one of her classmates. He had thought they were past that at the Academy...And the stalkers? She had been recruited into the Stalkers? Impressive? All of these thoughts swam through his sober brain, unfortunately, none of them registered to the currently very drunk Alistair. Instead, his focus was on the second comment.

"I've told you this once Zinnia, you aren't a demon...real demons don't fight like you...They sit in the dark and they wait. They kill anyone and everyone, even loved ones, if it means their survival...They slowly watch the life drain from people who never even knew they were in danger."

Once again, the silence filled the room. The barkeep must have sensed things that were being said that he should not be hearing, so he fled into the backroom.

"I know what demons are Zinnia, and you are not one. Demons hide in shadows cast by the good people they surround themselves with. Then they put a smile on their face and hope they blend in, that the light blinds others to their own sins."

His melancholic rant was capped off with Alistair reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle of anything he could get his hands on. With a swift and audible pop, the top came free and he down a large shot of some liquor that sent his throat burning.

Zinnia
 
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There was a long, long silence that filled the room in the wake of Zinnia's previous little rant. Had she said something wrong? Something untoward? She didn't think so. Nothing that Kristen hadn't known about. Kristen had even encouraged her to see things through back then. Was it the "smarty pants" comment? Oh gods, maybe she'd offended Al with that one. Maybe he didn't have pants right now.

She checked with a peek, knowing that, in and of itself, could've been a faux pas as well. No, no, he had pants still, so no offense to be had there. Then what?

Before Zinnia's addled brain had any more time to consider, Alistair's tone became markedly more somber. Such that it was, it cooled the raving in her mind and gave her both pause and focus. Zinnia took the time to consider what Al was saying.

"I...you..." Zinnia struggled to properly express her thoughts. Had he just given her a peak into something more vulnerable? She didn't know. "I'm...glad you don't see me that w-way, Al. I certainly hhhope that I'm not like that...that I never end up like that..."

Another pregnant pause, the only sound to break the quiet being that of liquid being poured and consumed.
"You sound like you're speaking about them from experience..."
 
The burning in his throat and the dizziness in his head were doing a good job of blocking out the voice in his mind telling him to shut up.

"Indeed, I know many demons..."

Once again silence fell as he could not bring himself to call himself a demon even though he knew it to be true.

When Alistair had killed his father during his time at the Academy, the first few months had haunted him, often hearing his father's voice speaking to him and telling him how much of a monster he was, how much of a disappointment he was. Eventually, the voice had stopped its droning, but for the first time in years he heard that whisper again.

Finally, recognize yourself for the hypocrite you are. The oh-so-perfect Alistair Krixus, the professional, the scholar, gentlemen, but more of a monster than any of your friends.

"Some...spend their whole lives looking out for their friends, even some enemies...all for the hope that it will wash away mistakes that can never be corrected."

The small admission was chased down with another chug of liquor before turning to Zinnia. An almost wild look in his eyes, a mix of sadness, regret, and self-loathing.

"They say the Academy makes monsters but it doesn't, it makes soldiers...Monsters are made by their own choices."

Zinnia
 
Zinnia wasn't so drunk that she couldn't pick up on the subtext of what Alistair was saying. She knew little of him, beyond what Kristen had told her. Zinnia knew he was reserved, often soft-spoken, sometimes even cold. But she also knew how Kristen glowed when she spoke about him, how she'd go on about what a wonderful man he was. She remembered how Kristen bawled her eyes out while clinging to Zinnia before she left, telling her how hard it would be to leave Alistair behind.

The gold-eyed girl's brow furrowed. Alistair didn't want to hear another word about Kristen right now, that much was clear. Yet there was no person Zinnia trusted more to judge someone's character than her. There was no way that the man Kristen loved could possibly be right about himself in this moment.

"Alistair...I kn-now what it's like to have a brain that tells you how awful your are...but you know something? It's lying," she told him, a degree of focus and determination sharpening her gaze. "Someone I admire very much once t-told me: 'your mistakes don't define you. How you carry on does.'"

Zinnia paused a moment to maintain her wits, setting her mug down on the countertop.
"If I'm not a monster, then neither are you, Alistair," she asserted, resolute. Then, she noticeably softened. "May I hug you?"
 
That was so easy to say, but did he carry on much better? Alistair's whole life was being told to do the same things he did to his father, but he just did not know the people. They were still someone's father, mother, or child.

His only answer to Zinnia's question was a nod of his head.

Al had not voiced these fears to anyone, not even Kristen. He had always told himself he would, but he could not bring himself to. Only three people in the whole world knew this secret of his. Instead, he had lied to so many people so they would not think worse of him.

"Thanks, Zin." The words came out in a soft whisper, barely able to be heard even to someone right next to him.

Zinnia
 
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A hug it would be, then. She stood from her stool and wrapped him in her arms. Tenderness was something that the initiates had always been taught was weakness. It was something they were oft discouraged from engaging in, denied access to.

Zinnia never believed it. Even Dreadlords needed to feel the warmth of another person every now and again. In this moment, Alistair especially seemed to need it.

"You're m-more than welcome. I'm here for you, whatever you need," she answered him.
 
Alistair did not let the hug linger for long as he pulled away. He reached out for his drink once again, and with a brief moment of clarity brought about by emotions, he sighed, "I'll be fine...I just need this tonight."

He had actually been doing this for several days, but he committed himself to this being the last day he pouted around Vel Anir. Tomorrow things would begin once again, he had a million things to do and he might as well get back to them. The work would be a nice distraction.

Al poured Zinnia another drink to mimic his own before smiling, "Feel free to join the rest of this night, or you can go, it's fine." Whether that was a one hundred percent truthful statement was up for debate.

Zinnia
 
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