08.19.3013: The Grapes of Wrath
Summary: Rook visits Nitrim and his broken leg at the Blackspyre and is a bit overwhelmed by the BIG of it all. Conversation and pranks ensue.
Date: 19 August 2013
Related: A Khourni Wedding
Ithaca Nitrim 

Nitrim's Apartments — Volkan, The Crescent
A small two-step set of stairs lead into this recessed room that is lit by hooded, indirect lighting that casts a somber, golden glow over its mostly red and black features. Various pieces of art, both photography and moving hypervisual, line the walls. Darkly shaded marble flooring stretches out to a small seating area with a pair of sofas in front of a mounted InfoSphere videoscreen that serves as the centerpiece of the room. To the left of the entryway is a comfortable chair seated next to a table and bookshelf that rest near a wide balcony that overlooks Volkan below. Along the far right wall is a snake habitat on a raised platform tht is protected by a mostly transparent energy shield.

The rear of the room supports another small two-stair reach that leads up to a lavish bedroom setting with a draped four-post bed in black and red dressing. Lastly, a small double door off to the side of the bedding section leads to a washroom with a walk-in shower and a large soaking tub set next to a window.

19 August 3013

From: Nitrim@Blackspyre

To: Rook@Roost
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 7:00 PM
Subject: …
Weddings suck. Family is here. Hostiles are here. I will fight and write when done.

From: Nitrim@Blackspyre
To: Rook@Roost
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 11:30 PM
Subject: …
…still ticking. Broken leg. At fucking BLACKSPYRE. Damn it I was hoping to make this a quick in and out…

From: Rook@Roost
To: Nitrim@Blackspyre
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 11:35 PM
Subject: …
Sorry. I'd come keep you company but, Blackspyre.

From: Nitrim@Blackspyre
To: Rook@Roost
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 11:45 PM
The video message is a video-wall call from Nitrim's apartments (which she has never seen). Nitrim is laying on a massive bed with one leg sticking out of the sheets in a cast. He is shirtless, but his chest is wrapped in bandages. Plucking a cigarette from between his lips, he looks to the camera and scowls. "This…is…bull shit." He half-laughs, flopping back down onto his pillow. "I go to Lady Johana's wedding, everyone was there, and then I nearly got my knee broken by a Hostile. Now my ass is dragged back here and they're saying it'll be a week maybe? I -can- get visitors, that's no problem, but even if I could get out of here I doubt your skinny ass would push me around in a wheelchair, right?" He Stubbs out the cigarette, reaching for the wall controls. "Send movies? Entertainment is scarce here. I'll take anything you send at this point and I'm gonna find a way to keep Victor out and trapping me to talk. Later.."

From: Rook@Roost
To: Nitrim@Blackspyre
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 11:50 PM
Subject: …
Can push your chair if you want. Don't think I'd pass as a nurse. Talk to Victor, pussy.

From: Nitrim@Blackspyre
To: Rook@Roost
Date: Sun Aug 18, 3013 11:53 PM
Subject: …
Just for that, no more video calls for the night. Let me know if you're coming by. I have means.

From: Rook@Roost
To: Nitrim@Blackspyre
Date: Mon Aug 19, 3013 8:00 PM
Subject: …
Coming by. You have better beer.

Night has fallen over the Blackspyre and Nitrim has spent the majority of an excruciating day…in his room. With a broken leg suffered from fighting with the Hostile, he's been a sulking presence over his home being wheeled about while his leg is healing. Having retreated to his rooms for the evening, he leaves a message with one of his assistants that he is expecting quiet company that need not be announced to the public. It's been done before, and the extra money is a decent bribe to ensure his needs are met.

Hours later, Nitrim sits alone upon his bed with his leg elevated and a cold beer on his nightstand. His massive room flickers with the light-show that comes from a horror movie on his wallscreen. Arms folded and carrying a sarcastic look on his face, he sighs towards the screen and lets the time crawl by…

Rook is escorted through the Blackspyre hastily, barely getting to see much of it, partly because of the speed of the guards, partly because she's wearing a ridiculous blue wig on her head. She has no piercings visible, and her jacket covers up her tattoos. Seems that Nitrim isn't the only one worried about being seen together at "his place." There is a knock at his door and someone announces, "Your friend is here, Lord Nitrim."

Looking up from the movie, Nitrim casts his dark-eyed gaze across the massive room to the door. Glancing over himself and the loose-fitting black pajama pants and sleeveless black shirt he wears, he pushes his body to sit up a bit more straight and calls out to the door. "I'm ready!" Ready? Is that what's supposed to be said? Rolling his eyes at himself he glances to the open door to his washroom and the window beside it, judging his escape points if it's Victor that walks through the door.

It's his lucky day, as it's Rook that walks in, though it might take him a second to recognize her with the wig on. Once the door is closed behind her, she pulls it off and clutches it in both hands as she looks around his apartments, wide-eyed. Her place is probably about the size of his bathroom. She focuses on him across the room and blinks. "How many people live in here?" she asks.

Eyebrows knitting together in the center, Nitrim half-coughs a cloud of cigarette smoke from his lungs at her question with a laugh to follow. Sneering at the pain in his lungs, he presses a hand to her chest and motions for her to come closer. "Just one," Nitrim replies, stubbing out the cigarette, because after a cough like that nothing sounds better to your lungs than actual air. "This is the room I grew up in, the same room I've had since I was a kid." He pauses. "I wasn't fuckin' lyin, Rook, I told you it was big."

Rook shuffles deeper into the room, eyeing every furnishing with disbelief. She might be wondering if she got a bad batch of Red Eye and is dreaming this. "Whole complex would fit in here," she notes. She climbs the two stairs up to his bed area, but passes by to poke her head into the bathroom. "Whole apartment in there," she retorts with a jerk of her thumb.

"Yes, I know, the shower is large enough to sleep in," Nitrim intones dryly as he reaches for the pint of beer beside him. "Don't ask me how I know that. There's a fridge over by Daliah's habitat if you're looking for something to drink." With about a million things for Rook to rustle through, just as she did with his suitcase early in their relationship, he seems content to let her explore. "So a blue wig? Is that something you had hanging around or did you buy it just for this occasion?"

"Dumpster," Rook admits about the wig, which is probably why she tore it off her head so fast once she was in the clear. She sets her bag down at the end of his bed and begins her careful exploration of the habitat of the Wild Nitrim. Nothing is sacred. Drawers get opened, boxes get looked in, shelves get perused, and Dahlia gets greeted with a smile and a wave, before a beer is claimed from the fridge. She pops it open and heads back towards the bed platform, inspecting everything along the opposite wall along the way.

With everything from photo collections to hermetic treasures like snake skulls to boxer briefs, Nitrim watches as Rook inspects and scratches at his head with mild interest. It's better than the horror movie he's been watching at the very least, and he has a lot of shit in this apartment. "I had everything packed and ready to go because I was going to get the fuck out of here, but since I'm going to be here for a while I had a lot of it unpacked." With a sigh, he rubs at the side of his face and glances towards her bag. "So you didn't have too much trouble getting over here, did you? By the way…if you're looking for a good time, look out of that," He motions to a window near his reading corner. "Window over there. All of Volkan below. It's amazing."

Rook heads for the window indicated, but once there, she freezes like a deer in headlights. All the open beneath her is terrifying to an extent. Space is different, since it's death outside the Ring in the vacuum of space, it mostly feels like just another wall. This is not the same. She looks mometarily dizzy and scrambles back a few steps. "High," she croaks.

"Yeah…it's high. It took me some getting used to when I was a child; I used to be terrified of the height. Now," Nitrim tsks, shaking his head from side to side as he sets his beer down and reaches for a cut of cheese. "Now I sit up from here and look down on everyone, watch the lights turn on and off, watch the lights as the transports come and go and the factories belch flames through the night. It puts things into perspective for me."

"That you're above us all?" Rook asks, arching a brow. She heads for his bed and plops down on the edge to take off her boots. His stuff is too fancy to put her things on in her head. She slides out of her jacket too, clad in a woven shirt that falls off one shoulder.

"That nomatter how high I am, there's a whole other world that I'm not a part of." Nitrim replies, his brow lifting at her go-to response. He flashes the teeth at the side of his lip to her and folds his arms across his chest once more. Opting to chew on his lip, he reaches for the remote and pauses the horror movie, eyes glancing over to the fully bared shoulder that the massive neck-line her shirt provides. It's a new shirt, at least one he hasn't seen before. "Anyways, there's more than enough room, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'm going to be here the rest of the week. Hoo-ray." Sarcasm.

Rook makes herself comfortable on the bed, with a pile of pillows to proper herself up on. There's no springs poking her in the back, and it's almost too cushy for her to take. She squirms and shifts around and refluffs and rearranges the pillows about 15 times before she's satisfied she's managed to make it a touch lumpier for herself. Once she settles, she glances at his leg. "Hurts?" she asks. At the fact he is stuck there a week she snorts at him. "Worse places," she points out.

It's like watching an arctic animal in a warm habitat. Eyes veering away from her shoulder, Nitrim takes her elaborate comfort ritual as a queue to sit up and fluff his own pullows and shove one in tight at the small of his back. There. All better. "Yeah, it hurts. It's not the worst break, the collarbone was a litany of pain, but it's more to my pride than anything. They've been giving me light meds, nothing that'll really take the hurt away, but I've been managing." The elaborate headboard thunks as his head lulls back. "I've been to worse places, yeah."

"I'd never want to leave," Rook snorts. She can't believe that he would spend time in the bowels of the Ring when he has a place like this. And she's only really seen his room. "Saw the news," she says in reference to how he got his leg broken.

"For a long time I didn't," Nitrim's reply is simple as he settles back into place, his eyes returning to her. "You notice how I don't ever suggest you leave that room of yours? It's because for a long, long time I pretty much did the same thing. I find a lot of comfort - well found - in this place."

"My place is just a place. This is," Rook glances around again. "Everything." She shrugs. She doesn't have the words to explain it properly. The level of safety and comfort in here is so beyond her imagination she's a bit overwhelmed by it. "Which movie?" she asks, gesturing at the screen.

Glancing over to the massive wall-screen, the one they've communicated on before, Nitrim watches a freeze-frame of a man with eyes crossed and his mouth wide open. He could be screaming or simply speaking. Paused movies never freeze in dignified ways. "The Black Waygate. It's a festival of bad acting, toplessness, and vivisection." Nitrim smirks. With a tug, he lifts the tray of meats, cheese, and grapes from his end table and offers some to Rook. "Ever seen it?"

"Three times," Rook admits, but doesn't seem upset about having a fourth viewing. She moves to gobble some of the offered food, but the dignified air of the place slows her down and she takes one piece at a time, trying to be proper insofar as she understands what proper is. Lyrienne didn't get too far with her on that. "It's funny," she notes, gesturing to the screen with a grape. Real fruit. That's something she rarely gets.

"So far it has its merits but I'm only about a quarter of the way through." Reaching to the table, Nitrim flops the remote control down between them and points it towards the screen. With a press of a button, the movie starts to play. The nerd on the screen was…TALKING. He'll die in a few moments anyway, sending the bikini-clad girl running for the hills. "So what's funny, this movie or something else you had on mind?"

"The movie. So bad it's funny," Rook murmurs. She glances over at the habitat for the snake. "Dahlia like it here?" she asks. She can't imagine she wouldn't, being as that habitat is bigger than her kitchen.

"Daliah loves it here. It's warm in her habitat and when I open the window, and I provide her with plenty of food. It's far more favorable to having to hide from predators bigger than she is." Now that the nerd on the screen has died, no one believes the bikini-clad girl. No one ever believes the girl. "I'd offer to pull her out and introduce you, but I'm slow moving to get up. I've only just gotten used to speaking into her mind, it's still fresh."

"She's pretty," Rook comments. Then she realizes that might need clarification. "Dahlia, not Fake Tits," she murmurs in regards to bikini girl. There, all cleared up. She sips her beer and tries one of the meats on the plate.

"Yeah, that girl comes across a little fake and contrived. I think all of that dark eye-makeup is something she wouldn't wear outside of the movie. It looks out of place." Nitrim shrugs at the screen. "Then again she'll probably be naked or dead in a few minutes. If I had to choose? I think I'd still choose Dahlia." He reaches out to take a slice of meat and cheese, rolling them up into a little sandwich of sorts. "Dahlia is glad that I'm home. It's weird feeling her comforted when I'm around. I've been away, in and out, for a long time. It hasn't done well for her."

"She's like me," Rook murmurs, regarding Dahlia. "Better when you're around." She shrugs a little. She's almost a human being when Nitrim is around. "And she'll be naked then dead while naked," she spoils for him.

"Well, I suppose it's better that this isn't one of those movies that dangles some pretty girl in front of you like a carrot and she never gets naked. Formulaic as all fuck, though." Straightening, Nitrim reaches for his cigarette case and swivels it opening, offering one to Rook as he points it at her exposed shoulder. He opens his mouth to reply, and his response gets caught in his throat. "Could I ask you a question, Rook? What is it about me that calms you?"

Rook takes a cigarette from the offered pack and her eyes meet him as he asks the question. She ponders for a few moments and mulls it around. "Understanding." He understands her. Even if he doesn't understand himself. And she gets him.

Meeting the contact of her eyes, Nitrim nods slowly and, as if one queue, his eyes start to wash over into milky white. A small flame erupts from his palm, which he offers to her as he pries a cigarette free for himself with one hand. "Yeah," He murmurs, understanding the sentiment. "I think we do understand each other. I'm glad you came back."

Rook lights her cigarette of his palm like it's the most normal thing in the world. "Glad too. Good to be understood." It really is. "Won't go again," she promises.

Using his lit palm to light his own cigarette, Nitrim extinguishes the flame and his eyes return to normal. "So now that you've actually seen the place, I've got to ask." He settles back against the headboard, cradling his elbow in the palm of his hand as he smokes. "I know you think it's huge, but really, what do you think of Volkan, of the Blackspyre, of this place? Do heights truly bother you?"

That's a lot of questions but she takes them in one at a time as she drags on her cigarette. Rook ponders and chooses her words carefully. "It's alive," she notes. The Ring is so mechanical, clinical, and sterile compared to the factories and volcanic mountains of Volkan. "Nice. Not sure bout heights. Just not used to them." It's honest.

"We have rain that steams when it hits the ground and entire black clouds coming from the factories as they word on wartime materials." Nitrim exhales a dual-stream of smoke from his nostrils as his eyes shift back to the movie. The bikini-clad girl is meeting her boyfriend in a private place. Her death looms. "I haven't spoken with Victor yet, he hasn't stopped by. I figure he's giving me a day to rest first." He frowns. "When I leave here I want to with my dignity intact."

"Try," Rook says quietly. "Best you can do. Family is important." Which is coming from someone who hasn't had one since she was a kid, and even that was a stretch.

"We'll see," Nitrim huffs, unable to hide his frustration even as the girl on screen reaches for the ropelike strands that hold her bikini to her bosom. "I'm tired of being called names and I'm tired of being an embarassment. Lately I've felt respect being a one-way street with some of them, and I can't promise I won't rip into any of them if they try to have a mature conversation with me from the comfort of being able to call me man-whore or idiot."

"Not an idiot," Rook assures him. The man-whore part though, she has no opinion on. He slept with her afterall, and pretty much no one wants to do that. "Just blind sometimes," she adds softly.

"That's fair…" Nitrim trails off, eyes vacantly staring at the wall screen as he feigns interest in the rather unromantic scene playing out on the screen. The muffled grunts and sounds of pleasure mean that at least the about-to-be-killed girl is loving it. "…I've been blind a long time, Rook. It's like something shakes me, wakes me up, and I lash out to compensate."

"Angry. I know," Rook murmurs. She does. She spent a lot of years angry. "Careful. Burn out." Like it burned her out. Thus his buddy is a sociopath.

"Oh, neither of us have to worry about that with me," Nitrim drawls, his thumb brushing over the filter of his cigarette as his eyes focus on the screen. The shadowy monster slips up behind the girl, mid-coitus. Her head falls off. "Well, you were right about that, weren't you?" He smirks, eyes flitting to Rook before he leans out to ash his cigarette. "I don't burn out. I just find places to disappear."

"Same thing," Rook replies. "Going away. Even if you are there." Turning inward, becoming a passenger in one's own body. "Don't do that."

"I'm just used to being alone, Rook. You have your apartment, I have mine. Sometimes this place doesn't do the trick but I always come back to the surface." When Nitrim rights back again, he rubs at the bandages hidden by his shirt and reaches for more of the meats. "I'm resilient. Trust me."

"Good. I'd kick your ass else," Rook quips. She throws a grape at the screen during a particularly horrible fake death scene. "Plastic head!" she shouts.

"That's got to be a lot of fun when filming these movies, filling a plastic head with fake gore and getting to bat it around the room." Okay, slightly morbid, but honest. "A lot of these movies have no idea what the real thing looks like." A bit more morbid, coming from the man who's fought in the field. "Excuse me a moment." Cigarette in hand he reaches for a crutch at the side of the bed, his eyes trained on the small fridge on the side of the room. "Do you want anything while I'm up?"

"A room like this? A screen that big? A lifetime supply of this beer?" Rook answers with a grin.

"Third drawer to your left, that's where I keep all that." Nitrim smirks, turning his back to her as he rises with a wince. With his bad leg locked into a stationary position, he hobbles over to the fridge and opens it up to get out another beer. Dahlia senses his presence and lifts her head to greet him, and Nitrim reaches out to brush a fingertip over the top of her head through the one-way shield. He turns and starts to hobble back towards his bed. "If this place is anything it's comfortable."

Clearly, she isn't here to baby him, as she lets him hobble around on her own. Truth be told, she'd probably punch him in the face if he tried to baby her. She lets out a short laugh at his estimation of his comfortable palace. "Pillows not lumpy enough," she mock-complains.

"That's because the staff replaces them every three months. We don't keep them long enough to let them get lumpy unless we ask for them to be." Nitrim laughs, easing back down onto his spot. Carefully, he slips his leg back onto the bed and scoots back with a sigh. That took effort. "The fucking things I do for beer." Punching at his pillows a few times to soften them up, he gets comfortable once more. "I appreciate you coming to see me, you know. With the way things have been lately it just feels like the walls are closing in. All the conspiracy, it's hard knowing who to trust. I trust you."

"Where do they go?" Rook asks, wide-eyed again, about the pillows. Then she eyesrolls. "Really? You could ask." If he'd asked, she'd have gotten it for him. She laughs again at his words. "I can barely see your walls." Perspective.

"You're my guest, one doesn't ask the guests for help, now do they?" Manners are manners, as they say. He slips the cigarette back between his lips and lets it dangle as he speaks. "I'm not entirely sure what they do with the pillows but if you're so inclined I'm sure I could smuggle a few of these out to you before they get replaced. My sisters and I have accidentally thrown so much shit out of the windows they'd just roll their eyes and cover it." He grins, pulling the smoke between his lips for a drag. "Oh they're not that far away, Rook."

"Fuck that. Not a guest. Friend," Rook retorts. Guests, in her mind, are pompous things. She snorts at him regarding the walls. "Stay in my place a week," she threatens. Yeah, her place is pretty cramped. This is like living on the open plains by comparison. The Plains of Ares would probably flabbergast her.

"Friend, yeah, but you know what I mean. Besides, nothing is worse than being immobilized. I saw some things recently that really, really hammered that in." Taking up one of the grapes, he nearly pops it into his mouth, but when he looks over he sees a perfectly sized gap in the wide neck of her shoulder-baring shirt. He flips the grape into it with a smirk. Score. "For me, nothing would be worse than being immobilized. The broken collarbone was close to that."

"AGH!!!!" Rook shrieks as the cold grape goes down her shirt. She flails, trying to get it out, untucking the shirt from her leather pants and rolling around like she's on fire. "COOOOOLD!"

The movie on the wall screen is at a boring point with a lot of talking and very little death or nudity, which makes what Rook is up to vastly more interesting. With a smug look on his face, Nitrim folds his arms across his chest and settles against his pillows, watching her flail about. "Of course, I would only do that kind of thing to friends, not guests. So I guess you're a friend." He laughs.

Her shirt gets hauled off and thrown at his head as she finally gets free of the dastardly grape, and grunts, flinging it at him hard. "Ass," she quips.

The grape bats off of Nitrim's head, namely his eyelid as it passes through a wall of flailing arms trying to block it. Laughing aloud, he peels the shirt off of his face and tosses it back towards her. "Oh fuckin' come on it was awesome, and this shirt is awesome too, by the way, where did you get that thing? You didn't wear it back when —" He trails off. She knows. Back THEN. As he reaches for his cigarette, his eyes dip down to her skin. It's a guarded look, but look he does.

Well Rook doesn't really wear bras. Not much need for them. But she's also completely nonplussed to be topless in front of him. In her mathematical estimation he's already seen her bareass naked before. She tugs the top back on. "Mare Maris," she notes, as to where she got it. Apparently she went back to the place she killed sharks and vegged on the manmade floating island with its fake beach for a bit.

"So you went back to the beach? Smart choice. I'm sure it beats the hell out of the volcanic monstrocities here, though we do have hot springs in the belly of this place." Nitrim averts his eyes as he turns to stub out his cigarette next to the half-smoked coughing-smoke from earlier. Taking up the tray, he offers it over to her. "It's a nice shirt. Your shoulder looks really good in it. You should wear that more often."

"Yeah?" she asks, dubiously, trying to look at her own shoulder. From the back part of her massive dragon tattoo is visible, and part of one of the hermetic symbols on her upper arm. "Hot springs? Like…a bathtub?" she asks curiously.

"Yeah, it shows of your tattoos. You've got good shoulders." Nitrim replies, nodding towards her shoulder before he settles back in to turn his eyes to the movie, quietly chewing at his lip while he rubs at his cast and whatever phantom pain has come to the surface. "The hot springs are a bathhouse in the belly of the Blackspyre. A number of murky pools of water, heated like a hot bath. It's a rather open room, but my family and I use them all of the time." His eyes unfocus and he sighs, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Huh," Room murmurs, trying to picture the bath house. "Naked?" she asks curiously. That would explain a lot for her. Nitrim never struck her as shy about shucking clothes. "Tattoos are mostly focuses," she admits. She uses them hermetically. "Cept the rooks." She looks at him worried at the sigh and his lack of focus and nudges his shoulder. "Ok?"

Shoved out of his trance, Nitrim looks back to Rook, her shoulder, the tray of food. His cheek tugs to the side in a bitter look and he slowly nods his head. "Yeah, I think so," He admits cocking an eyebrow as he finds her eyes to bring her into confidence. "I've just spent a long time now feeling like I've always had to apologize, or that I wasn't doing things right, or second guessing myself as I've been moving from one really dangerous thing to the next." His bitter scowl turns into a smirk. "It's just nice to hang out again."

"Yes," Rook agrees. "Missed you," is said with a small quirk of a smile and a crinkle of her nose, which looks strange without the ring in it. She almost looks normal. Almost.

"I missed you too, Rook. I'm really glad you came back." For the first time, Nitrim notices that the nose-ring has disappeared. He blinks. How did he miss this? Narrowing his eyes just a little he reaches out to tap at the side of her nose. "When did you?" He trails off, then drops another grape down the back of her shirt when she isn't looking. If he weren't a noble he'd be a bastard.

"Before I came here. Didn't want to be recognizable," Rook admits. "Didn't want to cause trouble-aaaaiye!" Dammit there it goes again. The shirt is torn off once more to get the cold fruit off of her back. She rolls on her stomach, panting, when the wrestling with her clothing is done. Her dragon is in full display now ripping out of her spine.

"You're not going to cause trouble. No one expects me to cause problems right now, I don't think. I've caused too many." Nitrim smirks at his victory as he stretches out lengthwise alongside her. Eyes lowering to her tattoo, he starts to notice things that he didn't before. "Did you get some touch-up work done some other time from the Zakk Pryde account?" He asks, mindlessly rubbing at the outline of the rib-wrapping beneath his shirt.

"Little bit. Here and there," Rook admits. "Should've seen it drown a shark," she smirks about her tattoo. She channeled her telekinesis through the tattoo and an illusory version of it burst from her back and descended on the toothy critter. She rests her head on folded arms and watches him idly. "Any new ones?" she queries.

"No, not since the night we went out there." Nitrim shakes his head. Turning at the hip to get a better look at her, he settles his shoulders in against the pillows stacked against his headboard, watching her eyes. "I've been thinking about it but I never really knew what I'd get. Everything moved really fast with Flint, the training…you'd be amazed at home many things I haven't had the time for in five, six weeks? It's like I married my work and went Chantry."

"Hm," Rook murmurs in understanding. She raises one hand, her eyes going white and the black rook wings sprouting like transparent illusions from her back as she traces a symbol in the air, where it hovers for him to look at. "Hermetic good. Suits you." It involves snakes of course. "Luxor." (Hermetic Symbol)

"I've seen that symbol before," Nitrim ticks his head towards the bookshelf that runs along half of one of his massive walls. "In one of my books, I think at one point I might have thought about that one and forgot about it." He laughs, brushing a hand out through the energy of her aura, making it rippple where his hand sails through. "My back is mostly covered though, I'd have to find a good spot."

"Snake is important," Rook murmurs. To him. It's his aura, his pet, his tattoo. She rolls on her side and reaches a hand out to press it to the back of his neck. "There." Then over his heart. "Or there." Mind and heart.

"I think the back of the neck would be the place. I've got Dahlia tattooed on half of my chest and I think it would be cut off a little, and you don't wanna cut of hermetic symbols, no way." Nitrim nods, reaching back to tap the back of his neck. "When I get back on my feet I'll make an appointment with Pryde. Was there any other work you wanted to get done while we're out there?"

"Maybe," Rook muses. She looks a little hesitant though. Zakk is very expensive. She grabs a pillow and clutches it to her chest in a hug, curling around it a bit. Her aura fades away and her eyes go back to their depthless black again.

"Maybe? Maybe like things that are none of my business, or maybe like you're just not sure?" Nitrim replies, stretching out to lay down on the bed, tilting his eyes to the ceiling as he works his way back into the pillows while they speak. Eyes on the top of the canopy bed, she's free to cover herself as she pleases. "He's a pretty good guy I'm sure he'd be happy to see either of us again."

Rook rolls up to grab her bag and pull it to her, drawing a tablet out of it. She taps on it a few times, then turns it for him to see. The tattoo is of a blue snake, with a golden bird flying out of its mouth. "But black for bird," she explains. "And no flowers." Fuck flowers. (Snake and Bird Tattoo)

Sitting up on his elbows, Nitrim looks to the image on the tablet and looks closely. Eyes flitting up to hers, in a sudden understanding of what the tattoo represents, he gives her a curious look. "You're sure about that?" He asks, sitting up a little more. "Even with that I'm betrothed, everything that's happened, you're sure about that?" He wets his lips. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea, not at all, I'm just, touched and - I don't know - we'll always be best friends nomatter what, right?"

"No matter what," Rook promises. "You freed me," from a life of solitude with people who just didn't grok her. "Important. Part of me now."

"Alright, then. You have my blessing." Nitrim's head bobs as he sits up, popping the top off of the bottle of beer. He takes a sip and then offers it to her. "Not that you needed it, mind you. Where are you gonna put it?"

Rook sips from the beer and she moves the pillow to show the side she doesn't have the flying rooks on. "Here, or here." She gestures to the hip she doesn't have the Zakk Wylde rook on." She's looking a bit tired now. "I should probably go now. Late. Need rest," meaning him, not her.

Dragging his fingertips through his short, blonde hair, Nitrim nods towards her hip and reaches out for her shirt. Offering it back to her, he frowns towards the credits that the movie is playing now. "Let me know if you're gonna stop back in, okay, Rook?" He looks back to her, a heartfelt look on his face. "Really, thanks for stopping in, and thanks for giving this a second chance."

"I'll stop by again," Rook agrees as she tugs her shirt on and puts the asinine blue wig back on her head. "If work lets me. Will send message." Either way. She leans over to kiss his forehead. "Get better."

Leaning forward into the kiss to his forehead, Nitrim wraps an arm around her hip in a hug and then settles back down into the pillows. He reaches out and drags the wig off of her head, nodding towards a bureau in the corner. "I have a hooded tunic in there with a low cowl. Take care of it, alright?" It's a gift. "Toss me a message if you need to talk, I should be up and about in a day or two."

"K." Rook gets the tunic and puts it on, snorting at the wig he has. "Burn that," she advises. God knows what used to live in it. She gathers up her bag and tablet and gives him a little wave before she heads out, and is escorted back out of the Blackspyre once more.

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