08.20.3013: Yeah, It's Like That
Summary: Nitrim and Victor finally have the talk that's been coming. It doesn't go as either suspected it would.
Date: 20 August 2013
Related: Bombs Away
Nitrim Victor 


Nitrim's Apartment, Blackspyre, Volkan
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.

20 August 3013

After dinner at the Blackspyre, Nitrim has retreated back to the safety and confides of his private apartments. Limping along, with his leg out of a cast, his loose-fitting drawstring pants scrape along the floor as he lights a cigarette in the hallway. Quiet and avoiding the staff, he slips into his room with a trail of blue-gray cigarette smoke that disappears inside. He stops just within the threshold and glances over his room before giving his door a weak shove, expecting it to close behind him.

Victor wasn't at dinner. But he does have great timing in this case. His boots are soft but far from silent on the metal floor of the chamber corridor, turning a corridor to spot Nitrim slipping wraith-like into his room. The big man's footsteps accelerated, and two steps from the door, he gravels, "'Trim," putting out his hand to catch the closing door.

Glancing back to the door as it is caught by one of Victor's strong, warrior-like mitts, Nitrim flips an arm into the air behind him in a dismissive gesture. It figures. "What do you want, Victor?" Nitrim asks, though with the exhausted tone to the words suggests that he doesn't truly care to know. Thus, Nitrim makes no attempt to force Victor away from his door and starts to walk deeper into his room in the direction of a small fridge near Dahlia's habitat. "You really only seek me out for two things nowadays and you're not wearing your armor."

Victor shakes his head at Nitrim's words, "Don't be a little bitch, 'Trim." There's more weariness than true disdain to the words, but he remains in the doorway for now, "We should talk. I ain't here to kick your ass." One hand holds the door open, the other resting on the frame at the other side of the door, "Can I come in?" At least he's being polite about that.

"Excellent," Nitrim plucks the cigarette from his lip as he approaches the fridge. Swinging it open, he pulls out a bottle of beer and nudges the door closed with his foot. "Establish dominance, a reminder that you're larger for me, and then suggest what you want and then follow with politeness." Nitrim turns, eyes narrowing as the twist-off bottle digs into his palm before giving away. As the mist rises from the lip of the bottle, he flips the cap into a garbage can. "This is going well so far, please, come in grace my little bitch presence with your meager intelligence so that we can talk about how you feel about things that were never any of your business to begin with." Nitrim cants his head. "I'm all ears, Victor. Let's do this."

Victor steps in, shutting the door behind him as he does. He watches the ritual with the beer impassively, already starting to shake his head at the younger man's words, although he doesn't rise to the bait of 'meager intelligence,' "I don't care about a fuckin' one-night stand months ago. I don't care if you're friends with Dee. She needs all the friends she can get settlin' into a new place." The words are a low rumble, only rising slightly when he moves over to the chair by the door, "I'm here 'cause I'm worried about you. Your…" he cuts off whatever undoubtedly insulting thing he was going to say about Soleil, "…wife-to-be's workin' on cuttin' you away from the family, and that ain't good for us or for you."

Running his tongue over his teeth, perhaps to rid of the taste in his mouth, Nitrim pauses for a long pull from the beer bottle. Crossing the distance, he moves the back of a nearby sofa and leans a hip against it. "Cousin," Nitrim starts, his green eyes lowering to the bottle of beer as he swirls it. The dark liquid with in the bottle roils. "I'm not happy one bit with what happened in the drawing room for a number of reasons, reasons that include the way she stepped in and sprayed fire over everything, the way Devon attacked her, being called man-whore because you were angry, but I'm betrothed to be married into House Sauveur." Nitrim frowns, shaking his head towards the man. "I've got to consider that before long the best I can do for the lot of you is try to watch out for you all from Landing, and to do that I'll need allies. I can only hope they give me respect."

Victor puts a hand on the back of the chair, but doesn't sit down, "I don't care who you're marrying. Khourni is Khourni." His big shoulders roll helplessly, "I was pissed. Even now that I'm not, I think you're stupid as fuck for screwing around with noblewomen. But that ain't the point. Whether you marry a Sauveur, a Laskeris, or a fuckin' Hostie, you're family. And I don't like seeing family getting their balls torn off and stuffed in some fancy girl's purse."

"I'm not having my balls bronzed, Victor. I'm a drake. I don't get ridden." Nitrim replies dryly, setting the beer down so that he can enjoy his cigarette for the moment. "Things are just — complicated." Complicated is the right word. "There's too many things in motion and I've been largely out in the field putting my ass on the line as a first defense. It's kept me away from home, and there's unfinished business here I want to put to bed. All of you are in danger, and if I can't earn my place here through my father I'll do it through saving your collective asses. Soleil?" Nitrim pauses, "Soleil is like Devon. Someone who got in my way and got stomped on in the process. There's some comeuppance I owe her, but not at the expense of my relationship with the family. If only beating people fixed them, right?"

Victor shakes his head, "Bullshit. She needs to be shown some fucking boundaries. This whole shitstorm would've been fixed in twenty minutes if she'd kept her nose butted the fuck out. But no, everything of yours is hers now, and she's gonna shit on everything around her until everyone else is feelin' worse than her. All it needed was Devon to explain that it was just friendship with one benefit. That woulda been it. That don't bother me. But no, she had to do her best to drive a wedge between you and your family."

"A wedge I'd told her already existed." Nitrim admits, being fair about it as he slips the cigarette back between his lip. "But a wedge I don't think she understands that I want to see mended. Respect is something I've always wanted. I'm just not sure right now how I want to deal with that." Turning away from Victor, Nitrim scowls and shakes his head as he moves over to his favorite window that overlooks Volkan. "I don't know if I could have actually fought Devon if she tried to get through me. I didn't want to fight anyone, Victor. I didn't even want to have that conversation in the first place, but Anabethe insisted. Where I went wrong was I was sending to her just after I lit my cigarette. I was angry. I've been considering how to approach it, because right now I need to be in Landing."

Victor shrugs his shoulders, "I already talked to Bethe. Didn't worry about punching her in the face either, and I was a lot more pissed at her then than I am at you now. If she had to say it, she should've just told me in private and let me deal with it how I wanted." His hand tightens on the back of the chair, "And I talked with Dee, and I was a lot more pissed at her than I am at you now. I don't have the faintest fuckin' clue why she thought it would stay quiet. But yeah. We need you in Landing. And you need us havin' your back here."

"I do need you having my back, Victor. I really do. That's what all of this has been about from the beginning." Nitrim replies, his head turning to look to Victor from over his shoulder as his cigarette smoulders. "I'm putting on a great deal of risk being at Landing like I am. All of these pieces moving into place and none of you are going to be welcome there like I am, and I have no clue who I can trust there apart from Soleil." He turns, sitting against the window sill. "I have a few contacts that can help me, friends like Rook and other nobles I'm friendly with, but the difference between you and I is that you're more likely to be stabbed in the front." Nitrim's lips flatten into a line. "Do you have any idea what I've been up to, Victor? All of this moving around, disappearing? Fuck the whoring, that was for fun and I haven't gotten laid in months. I mean what I'm really up to?"

Victor frowns slightly at the continued emphasis on danger in Landing, "You're lookin' into what the fuck is going on with all the power plays, the drakes fighting and all that shit." He blinks then, backtracking, "You haven't gotten laid in months? Shit, that's gotta be torture for you." Not that he seems to go trolling for Citizens more than every couple of months himself. Apparently, the new-found chastity has convinced him that his cousin is serious, although he does grunt softly, "Told you she was puttin' your balls in her purse." Shaking that off, he straightens up from his lean against the back of the chair, "What the hell is going on in Landing?"

"Fuck off, Victor," Nitrim finally laughs, tilting his head back towards the ceiling as he stutters out waves of cigarette smoke. No longer to remain mad at the man, he rubs at his forehead and crosses the room with a limp back to Victor and drops into one of the chairs. "I'll get laid soon enough, I'm not too terribly worried about it and gods help the girl when it happens." He leans out to stub out his cigarette, lowering his voice. "There's things that if they got out would kill the surprise, force people's heads onto plates. People call me a paranoid fool for believing in conspiracy, but I'm playing one-half defense to make sure I won't get set up to take the fall." He leans in, resting his elbow on his good knee. "Don't let Devon trust the Chantry too much or you'll lose her, Victor. Watch her with them. They've been infiltrated."

Victor chuckles at the cursing, about to riposte to the commentary about getting laid, but then he blinks at the serious matter that follows. "The Chantry?" His brows lower hard, "What in the Hells?" He scowls down at the chair before him, thinking hard enough to nearly send smoke from his ears. Eventually, he looks up again, "Okay, you've gotta spill, 'Trim. The Chantry's damn important to me, to Dee, to damn near everyone in Haven. I mean, you're talking like those crazy fucks out on D-4, right? A couple of godsdamned nutjobs."

"Someone's gotten into the Palace, I worry. Someone's pulling strings. I think it's the Chantry. Father doesn't like Soleil any fucking more than the rest of you do, why else do you think he sold me Sauveur?" Nitrim settles into his chair, pausing for a sip of his beer. "I have evidence hidden. Real evidence. I've seen dead bodies murdered to hide evidence of a spy photograph of robed members of the Chantry meeting with the Hostile. No faces, no names, but I suspect it could go as high up as Elder Sabine or Remus, as they've started altering their wording in their scriptures in ways that might have preempted the invasion." Nitrim pauses, cocking a brow in Victor's direction. "I saw one of my dream come true through that Hostile in that cell in Khar-Mordune. Things are coming true, Victor. Real true."

Victor blinks again at the revelations, running a hand back over his bald head, "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." The last point has him nodding, "Release me." Apparently, Devon, his brother, or another Awakened has been talking to him. Still, he goes back to thinking on the earlier point. "An Elder? Not Elder Sabine… I mean, she was close to King Symion for like… decades. And hell, she crowned His Majesty." Once more, he scrubs a hand back over his head, "And you're lookin' into this? What do you need from us?" After all, he's got a Saimhann mother.

"Someone convinced the King Regnant to marry his sister down to Lord Magnus, and it wasn't my father, Victor. Elder Sabine also has stopped saying "Salvation for All of Haven" and is now writing "Salvation of All Humanity"," Nitrim whispers, slipping a fresh cigarette between his lips. "She also didn't seem to give a fuck when the Priest that was investigating this went missing and would up stuffed into a slab in the Necropolis. It's not something worth putting money on. Ole Emund might just have a spiritual advisor." With a cloud of his eyes and a flash of flame, Nitrim palm-lights the cigarette as nervousness sets in. "For starters, stop fucking calling me man-whore. I've got a hacker contact that's been my lifeline. When she comes around I need privacy. Be ready for dead drops and whatever you do, don't fucking expose me or you'll be at my funeral or execution before you know it." Nitrim looks up to Victor's eyes. "I don't have many friends there. Flint's pissed at me for Devon and Soleil. I'm not fucking around here, man, and for fuck's sake if Janelle makes it here you keep her the fuck safe or it's Father's ass."

Victor sits down on the arm of the chair as the hits keep coming, looking down at his hands for a long moment. He has no problems chopping people, drakes, or Hostiles up, but shake his Faith… Drawing in a long, slow, unsteady breath, he lets it out in a gust, "Isn't it safer if people think she's just here to get fucked?" Shaking his head, he waves the question off, "Maybe not, if the Sauveur hears." Rubbing both of his hands back over his head, he breathes again, "Shit. This was a good day, too. Yeah. I may think she's a fuckin' snake, no offense to Delilah, but she's the Crown Princess. She makes it here, she won't get hurt." Looking up, he notes, "I'm tellin' Dee, but it stops there."

"Dahlia," Nitrim corrects, his dark, green eyes locked onto Victors with grim severity. "And please, be sure it stops there, because I'm mostly alone out there. This is what I gave up my squiring for, and this is what I gave up…other things for." What other things, Nitrim doesn't elaborate as he turns his head to down the last of the bottle's contents down his throat. Sighing as he sets the empty bottle aside, a post-guzzling aah, he turns back to his cousin. "I'll probably go down in history as an idiot, Victor, but at least I'll take some comfort in someone knowing the truth. I won't let this plotting come here, if I can. Fuck my life if I have to watch it from the sidelines if Janelle gets hurt out here. When I was here with Soleil, it was to meet with my father. I still need to. He needs to be able to out-maneuver, you know?"

"Oh, and this hacker girl?" Nitrim winks, giving Victor a thumb's up. Yeah, it's like that.

Victor nods his head, accepting the correction of his distracted mistake. He nods his assurance as well, "I'll tell her it doesn't go any further." And then he shakes his head, smirking faintly, "Planning to go down in history at all, 'Trim? There's some pretty solid ego." Rubbing his hands over his face, he shakes his head again, "This is some pretty serious shit. An Elder of the Chantry, working with Hostiles? Tryin' to influence the Crown…" And then he tilts his head, "Wait. Why Magnus then?"

"No one knows why Magnus," Nitrim rises, clapping the man on his broad shoulder. "And I'm not sure yet about the Elders, but I've seen the picture myself. It's someone in the Chantry, and I doubt a shock-trooper like Sarah One-One-Three knows. My worry is that if Janelle wasn't pawned to Magnus to get her out of Landing she was pawned off to someone for a reason we wouldn't see coming until it is too late. Put Drakes on her if you have to. Paranoid might save lives." Nitrim comes to a stop, standing squarely with his cousin. "I'm better at this than I am in the field. I can't stop now, but for the record if this kills me, you're like a brother, Victor. Seriously, stop calling me man-whore or I'll cut the top of your head and it'll look like a dick forever."

Victor shakes his head, "The Hostie doesn't know shit. She's even more in the dark than I am about anything important. Doesn't mean we can't learn about the Hosties as a whole." The mention of paranoia causes him to shake his head, but before he can comment on it, Nitrim makes his threat, and Victor barks a low laugh, "Shit man… then stop sleepin' around with everything in a skirt." Shaking that off, he adds a dismissive flick of his hand, "You say you're not fucking anyone, I believe you, I'll knock it off. But shit, 'Trim, I know you weren't gettin' paid. Like I said, I was pissed."

"I'm not fucking everything in a skirt, Victor. I think that's the worst part about it, because that's not what I've been about since the Hostile landed." Slipping away from Victor, he moves back over towards Dahlia's cage, pulling out pair of beers. With a whistle, he upticks his head and sends one of the beers in a toss over to Victor. "I've been around, but not as bad as I was before. I just keep sleeping with girls that either want to, or can't, stay, or some other fucked up thing. I haven't exactly been tacking down real estate." Twisting off the bottle's cap, he thumb-flicks it towards a garbage can with a k-plink and misses. "As for Devon, I think you two are gonna be fine. I'm sorry about how that went down. She's a good girl, you've got."

Victor nods his head upward to indicate he's ready for the beer, catching it in two hands and twisting the cap off. Taking a long swallow, he lowers the bottle again, "Ahhh. Needed that." Shaking his head at the additional mention of his cousin's proclivities, Victor makes another dismissive gesture with his hand, "Seriously, 'Trim. I don't care who you fuck, so long as it's no one's wife. Like I said, I was pissed." Taking another swig of his beer, he adds, "I meant what I said about stayin' friends with Dee. I'd threaten to see if you could fly if you touched her again," he shrugs, "But I'm not worried about it. We're gonna kick the shit out of each other, but yeah, we're gonna be fine."

"I won't touch her, Victor. She's family now, and better that she's at our backs because she's one of the few people I'd trust with my life. It'll be fine." Rolling his eyes just a little, the younger and far more wily Khourni that he is stretches out his damaged leg, flexing it up and down to stretch out the sore muscles. "So are we all square now? You, me, Devon? All I can promise is that I'm not going to let anyone throw Soleil out of a window but I'm gonna make sure she knows this is important to me."

Victor nods his head, "We're square, 'Trim." He drains off another good quarter of his beer, stifling a belch, then points the lip of the bottle at his cousin, "Watch out for her though. Your wife-to-be. I'm serious. I don't know her much, but she sure seemed like an ego-centric ball-buster. And yeah, once she's your wife, she's family, and I'll stop bitching about her. Just…" He shrugs, "She drives a wedge between you and the rest of the family, you've gotta rely just on her. But you don't gotta rely just on her. Promise." And then he's rising from the arm of the chair, finishing off the beer.

"Understood. If things get too hot I'll reach out. It's going to be a while yet between now and when Soleil get married, and between now and then I'm free to roam as I please. Now that we're squaring this up…I might stay a few days from time to time." Frowning as his leg is still in pain, he hops over to his bedside table and reaches for a bottle of pills. Shaking one, he pops it into his mouth and dry-swallows it. "And I'm serious about this, Victor. I'm not some crazy idiot. Be careful with the Chantry. Eunuch me if I'm wrong."

Victor moves over to the trash, dropping both cap and bottle into it, then steps back, "The whole Chantry can't be rotten, 'Trim." There's at least as much hope as there is logic in that statement. "If you're right, it's just a few people. It's gotta be." He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head, "I'll be careful. Don't get your head chopped off. I'm gonna use you as an example of what not to do for whatever kids I survive to make." There's a pause, and he adds, "And you can buy 'em their first beer too. For now, I'm gonna hit the sack though."

"What, you mean you don't want Uncle Nitrim teaching them how to treat a lady? Don't discredit me, Victor, I'll get those little assholes laid." Drowning the room in bro-banter, Nitrim nods upwards to Victor and drops onto the corner of his bed. "I like my head on my shoulders and trust me, if it's coming off you're gonna see the biggest explosion as I take half of Landing down with me. I won't go lightly and there's no way I'd fuck over our people." He reaches for a tablet and waves to Victor. "Thanks for coming by. Sleep well when you do."

Victor snorts his head, "I can arrange that just fine, thanks. And everyone won't know about it." Still, that's in good fun, as he chuckles, shaking his head, "Use your charms. Nail your bride-to-be. Fuck her good. Soon. Chastity's driving you fucking nuts." And then he's turning to depart, heading out the door and back into the rest of the 'Spyre.

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