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Law is Subjective
11-17-2020, 02:35 AM
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Strange; with the amount of free time he had once had, Osamu found himself with little ambition to enjoy the days given to him free of duty from beyond Valencian lands. More often than not, he secluded himself in the barracks, or, if the itch of wanderlust failed to leave his mind to drift, the Askan Woods became his retreat; mostly when the city became to foul for him to stand. He found no use in wasting his coin on ale and woman, least of all the sort who perfumes could not hide the stench of another man on their fur. Both were a distraction he had long come to know would only promise dissatisfaction in the end.

And yet, somehow, he had been coerced to the markets, to the crowded, rowdy corridors of the cities more... truthful halls. He was used to the glamour of smoke and mirrors the nobles put on to allude themselves the image without flaws he almost found these denizens more pleasing on the eye. He walked passed whores and their patrons, their cheap silks shining in the red hue of lantern light, intertwined in their fantasies paid for in coin. Another group, rowdy, pushing their way out of a pub, some with fur slick from spilled liquor, glassy-eyed and free from their sorrows for the night.

Ahead, one tavern he frequented more than once with the Valencian guard was one of golden light and flickering shadows. It was a strange thing, the way opposing realities diverged. To see a known templar, free from their knightly contraints, sit just one table over from a criminal who by day would be detained.

With a roll of his shoulders, Osamu cut a path through the crowd, stepping over the scurrying familiars of the common folk and swaying servers to the back, where a few tables were empty in turn for the call of the bar. 'Anything I can get for ye love,' crooned once such girl, her sooty fur stark in the dim lighting. "Just send the nights special," he spoke, his voice gravolly even as his gaze swept from bar to door, placing his back to the wall behind him. With a giggle and a wink, she flitted off .


11-17-2020, 03:12 AM
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Ozai was new in town, if that much wasn’t obvious enough just by the look of him. He didn’t really ever fit in. This much was obvious by the amount of stares from strangers and whisperings that he could hear from them as he passed them on the streets. He was usually a pirate, but not always; sometimes, he liked to take a break and play pretend and find some other method to earn coin.

Ozai was a man of many traits, and one with such exotic looks, to boot. He might as well use that to his advantage, right? So when the man requested the night’s special, of course it was Ozai. How could it not be, when he was two wolves in one? (Or so they liked to call him.) He didn’t quite know what the special really entailed to, but alas, Ozai wasn’t a man that cared. He was new and off the streets, and thus, and he’d let that work to it’s advantage. Assuming there was one. He needed to get his name and face out there if he was going to be successful anyway.

Ozai strolled forward, approaching the man that requested him with a grunt and roll of his shoulders. “Ayye, mate. I hear you called for the night’s special. You goin’ to take me on a date, or what?”

11-17-2020, 04:12 AM
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Osamu would like to believe himself an attractive man; fit from his years of honing his craft, no obvious signs of disfigurement; typical dark pelt of those born in the mountains. But he was not the sort to preen, nor the sort to feel arrogance when catching a fleeting glimpse in the baths back at the estate. His was a most unconventional upbringing; desires of the flesh had not been something at the forefront of his mind; some of his more... rebellious colleagues had found themselves missing pieces if they chose to focus more on their own gain than their expected duty.

Privileges came with results and even as he grew and the rewards of possessions and warm bodies were given with the blood let blade in exchange, more often than not he found himself disinterested. There was no pleasure to possess something already won.

His eyes watching the crowd, he saw the other approach from a distance, impossible to miss, a curious melding of white to earth. He had never seen a coat like that before, his mind automatically going to the thought; how strange he has not been claimed as a noble plaything.

'Ayye, mate. I hear you called for the night’s special. You goin’ to take me on a date, or what?' Coy words. A challenge presented. Osamu hated to lose. Coiled on the tensions of his own paranoia, a chill of quenched steel at the tenderness of his gut, he moved with an ease of one who knew every inch of his bodys placement, putting his paw at the base of the mans throat. "My you price yourself low," his words fell barbed, though his tone remained unchanged from his usual stoic rasp. Glancing to the side, he eyed the menu pinned to the side of each table.

"A mere two coin. You don't look much like a deer though I must say, unless meals now come with entertainment."


11-17-2020, 04:51 AM
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Was the canine before him attractive? He wasn’t jaw-droppingly beautiful like Ozai was, though he wasn’t your average plain jane, either. He was somewhat in-between, with that slick black coat, and gray markings, with very few, though well placed white highlights. What was the most interesting about this one, aside from his scent, was the color of his eyes. They were like an orange, though mixed with pink. What an interesting color, that Ozai found himself lost just staring at him for a time.

It wasn’t until the other reached out to place his paw at the base of his neck, that Ozai blinked and arched his eyebrows at him, though slowly moving his eyes down the male’s neck to eventually sit on the paw that had found itself on his coat. “Do you often touch without consent?” Ozai growled seductively, though not in a ‘let's fight’ manner, though it was most certainly a challenge.

His shoulders rolled back and Ozai stepped backward to allow the other’s paw to fall to the ground. “You asked for the night’s special. You didn’t mention you wanted a meal. Though, if you’re good to me, I could work my magic to get that arranged…” Ozai would almost purr, silver and magenta eyes narrowing at him with the tilt of his head. “C’mon Hunk, how about you work for your food tonight, hm?” Ozai, what game are you playing?

11-21-2020, 05:35 AM
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It was an interesting game; one he had played more than once in his time at Virlars service. He had been a man who always put particular importance on his reputation, always ensuring his more unsavoury ambitions were kept to the bleakness of perpetual twilight. That place in between absolute darkness and fleeting dusk was where Osamu dwelt, where memories were easily forgotten and even the most callous of man could taste the bitterness of fear in their throat. Harlots. They were the sort who thrived in that world, born of broken pieces put together, seeking desperately for something most would never have.

It was a gluttonous monster that consumed all it touched.

Yet, this one did not smell of the sickening perfumes used to mask their scents, instead, a tinge of brine that spoke of salt trapped amongst his fur seemed to cling to a natural sweetness. He wondered if he dared a nibble, if he would taste the sea at his nape. Reclining back into the chair as the other drew away, pallid eyes swept the room, curious at the fact that he still lingered. Part of him whispered in silent ruin at the potential distraction. While the master may be rotting six feet under, there were those who still sought his legacy, one beyond the papers and official estate of the Agnor Valencia name.

“I believe the point of paying for a meal negates the need to work for it,” he mused, tilting his head to look at his imposed companion, eyes tracing the chaotic lines between snow and mud. He remembered one story from his youth, a haunted whisper little more then smoke amongst the flames, of a wolf born of two souls, ever waging for control. His brow jutted, silently musing at the thought of suddenly finding his conversation invaded by those same dark lips.

“Last I checked though you didn’t work here; I am unfortunately familiar with this place. I don’t believe Lars would be pleased to know his paying customers are being conned by fake staff.” A slow, tap of his nails against the tabletop accompanied his body leaning against its surface, tilting his head to the other side. “How about you join me and perhaps I’ll pay for your dinner.” Keeping his intent set on the mans mismatched eyes, he paid little attention to the slip of a girl returning with his food.

“I’ll have one for my friend here too.”


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