(no subject)

[solo_insanity]

Tyki looked at the wares behind the glass shop window. They seemed normal enough. A doll shop containing dolls. Nothing new and hardly surprising.

However, the same couldn't be said for his distorted reflection. His normally ashen skin had a little more tan color to it, more livelier and a little less odd. The gray tinge was there but heavily muted. A quick glance might put into suspect a trick of the light or him being a bit ill. Either way it hid the fact that the man was more than human. Or less depending on one's definition of humanity.

The marks were still across his head but covered by the brim of his top hat. They'd be hard to spot unless someone was looking or standing incredibly close. Not that these features would stand out too much in this place with some of the residents. Tyki had seen them wandering the streets. Paint, piercings, tattoos and all manner of decorated as they walked confident. In addition, he spied how some of the people on the streets parted for them not wanting to be near them. Hoping that if they didn't make eye contact nothing bad would happen. No bad omens. No seven years of bad luck. Tyki didn't quite understand it but then again he didn't put any effort into understanding. The Cultists were a faction and force unknown to him. However, given enough time in this city, he'd learn their names well.

Which brought him to his second pondering. Where exactly was he? It wasn't his home all set in ruin and falling skies. It wasn't his trapped home away from home either. It didn't feel right. Limbs felt heavier and things that came with less than a thought took concentration. Some didn't come at all. So he got dumped somewhere. But where?

"My. They'll drag just about anyone in."

Tyki didn't turn at the voice behind him. No, he could see the reflection well enough in the glass. A man younger than himself with darker skin, long black hair pulled back, and a grin to warm the soul even if it did hold a bit of a sarcastic and mocking edge. He also didn't turn around for another reason. The voice. He recognized it as his own.

"If you wanted company to your little party, it is traditional to send invitations. But I suppose traditions are overrated at times. But you'll have to answer me a question. Which one are you?"

The younger man replied with a smile a bit more smug. It was the initiation to a bit of a game. What better way to pass the time on these streets?

"Can't you tell?"

The man in the top hat turned regarding. It seems the other man was able to pick him out in a crowd. Ah, but there had been many. Maybe too many with that same look to be sure which one it was exactly. And how was he tell inside jokes if he didn't know which one he was talking to?

"It would be rude of me to not offer you something in return for the answer to the question. How about a drink as you tell your tale?"

****

They stumbled their way home through the streets by lead of the younger. It was a refreshing stagger and one that was more exception than rule. It was one not brought on by horrors and injuries but too much drink and too few coordination skills. Even placing the key in the door was a challenge. Metal scraped across cheap metal half a dozen times before it slipped in and the door knob was turned with a satisfactory click.

The apartment was small. Much less grand than the rooms that were endless in the Kamelot manner but more hospitable than the common rooms where the miners used to gather. How large was it overall? Hard to say. The younger probably knew, but neither of them made it passed the living room. A box was pushed along the wall in their stupor along with a lamp that got knocked onto the couch. Neither felt like moving the appliance so they both settled for collapsing on the floor. The thin carpet over the building's support structure was less than cushy but that was lost on them. It was there. It was convenient. And considering their relaxed state it was more than comfortable for the time being. Conversation from before continued as if uninterrupted. Some sentences hardly made sense, but the dialogue flowed easily between them until the sun breached the horizon, and they both passed to slumber.

****

It wasn't until midday when the older man woke. The patch of sun had drifted across the floor and over a chair until it had finally planted itself directly over his eyes jarring him from sleep. A hand was thrown over to block but when it was discovered that would prove useless he sat up feeling his back protest at the way he slept. Tyki rubbed his eyes and brushed off hair and dust from the sleeves of his coat. A small sigh as he looked at the wrinkled material and wondered why he had slept in all these layers.

The pounding headache then became known and answered his question. A glance around the room confirmed that not only was his hat nowhere to be seen, but he had no idea where he was. This wasn't an uncommon situation, but on days with this did occur he at least hoped he'd be greeted by a woman with full lips and a clever smile. Well, he wished that on the days he woke up the second of the pair anyway. The clock in the room ticked noisily and completed a full rotation as he looked for a cigarette and put the pieces together. No, he wasn't with a woman last night, but it looks like his picked up bar buddy had stepped out for the moment.

As he pulled the cigarette pack out, he found that two pieces of paper were wrapped around it. He unfolded them. The first was a scrap of paper words written quickly and scrawled.

'Your part of the chores.'

A puzzled expression before opening the second. A receipt complete with an address to a shop. He recognized the street name in passing at best. A small chuckle as he folded them back up in his pocket and stood.

"Reduced to being the delivery boy, have I?"

"And who names their child Lion anyway?"