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@SELFCROWNED
[The boy's dorm room in Abyss hasn't gotten any less messy in the seven months since the war started.
In fact, some would argue it's only gotten worse. (Some being Constance, primarily, in a forty minute tirade that only ended when Yuri threatened to surface for some sun.) He's commandeered the back shelves to transform them into a makeshift desk, littered with papers and books and maps and quills, organized in a way that seems to only make sense to Yuri. The colorful bottles that used to be strewn about here haven't been tidied up, just pushed to one side. He's nesting, Hapi titters whenever she's within earshot. Yuri wishes he had the energy to jab back.
He doesn't have the energy for anything other than Abyss, right now. And for that, just barely. He's added up the budget four times now and still can't get it where he needs. Yuri knows why, can't fool himself. They just plain don't have enough funds. So many mouths to feed, and so few hands to feed them. The cost for food is sky-high, and most merchants don't even make it close to the hollowed-out shell of Garreg Mach monastery-- deserted, supposedly. And it is, save for the forgotten that inhabit its basement. There's hardly even a soul to steal from. Yuri is used to solving difficult problems, enjoys the puzzle of it, but... he's nearing the end of his frayed rope.
He sighs deep, buries his face into his hands. There's a dull, throbbing pressure that's started to well up in his temples, refusing to dissipate even when he presses his thumbs into it. Maybe if he skips dinner for a week, there'll be enough gold to replace the most tattered of the children's clothing.
Maybe he's accidentally bet on something that can't win, this time.
Without realizing it, Yuri has begun to find the surface of his desk rather inviting. His head keeps tilting down every few minutes, hair falling into his face. And then, with little fanfare, Yuri's slumping forward onto his notebooks, falling asleep right there with his face buried into his arms. There's only so much avoiding sleep he can do before his body forces him to catch up like this.]
In fact, some would argue it's only gotten worse. (Some being Constance, primarily, in a forty minute tirade that only ended when Yuri threatened to surface for some sun.) He's commandeered the back shelves to transform them into a makeshift desk, littered with papers and books and maps and quills, organized in a way that seems to only make sense to Yuri. The colorful bottles that used to be strewn about here haven't been tidied up, just pushed to one side. He's nesting, Hapi titters whenever she's within earshot. Yuri wishes he had the energy to jab back.
He doesn't have the energy for anything other than Abyss, right now. And for that, just barely. He's added up the budget four times now and still can't get it where he needs. Yuri knows why, can't fool himself. They just plain don't have enough funds. So many mouths to feed, and so few hands to feed them. The cost for food is sky-high, and most merchants don't even make it close to the hollowed-out shell of Garreg Mach monastery-- deserted, supposedly. And it is, save for the forgotten that inhabit its basement. There's hardly even a soul to steal from. Yuri is used to solving difficult problems, enjoys the puzzle of it, but... he's nearing the end of his frayed rope.
He sighs deep, buries his face into his hands. There's a dull, throbbing pressure that's started to well up in his temples, refusing to dissipate even when he presses his thumbs into it. Maybe if he skips dinner for a week, there'll be enough gold to replace the most tattered of the children's clothing.
Maybe he's accidentally bet on something that can't win, this time.
Without realizing it, Yuri has begun to find the surface of his desk rather inviting. His head keeps tilting down every few minutes, hair falling into his face. And then, with little fanfare, Yuri's slumping forward onto his notebooks, falling asleep right there with his face buried into his arms. There's only so much avoiding sleep he can do before his body forces him to catch up like this.]
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Balthus catches up easily. There's not much ground that eleven extra inches of height can't make up for. Sometimes Yuri finds that frustrating, if he's trying to outpace him. He ends up half-jogging in front of Balthus taking easy strides to keep up every time they argue, and it doesn't do much for his case. They don't argue much lately, though, and Yuri appreciates Balthus keeping by his side.]
Hah. As if anything could damage my credibility with the citizens of Abyss.
[Not that they don't see and appreciate what Balthus does for them, too. That's immediately evident when they stroll into the inn, and all the bar rats greet him enthusiastically. Yuri has to step out of range of a full, sloshing mug when Balthus bumps fists with someone, and he huffs and steers him along to a table tucked into the far corner of the inn.]
Too much fighting? For the King of Grappling? Never thought I'd hear that out of you, either.
[Even the reminder of the world they now live in isn't enough to dampen Yuri's spirits. They're getting a lot of looks from around the room-- he hasn't made an announcement about the deal yet, but Yuri bringing strange merchants down into Abyss certainly hasn't gone unnoticed, and gossip travels fast in the underground.
Or maybe they've have just seen that Yuri's smiling.
The bartender drops them two tall mugs of a sweet-smelling mead, unbidden. By scent alone, it seems higher quality than anything that's been poured in the Wilting Rose before.]
I'd be content to forget all about it, for tonight. Hopefully this'll help.
[Yuri punctuates his statement with a long sip from the mug, and a sigh of content.]
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It's half about the drink and half about the attitude, I'll have you know. I'm not only the king of grappling but also the king of emptying my head. Even the great Abysslord Yuri can learn a few tricks from me.
[ He picks up his mug, still smiling an easy sort of smile that is less teasing and more simply content. An actual swig of the drink has him sighing in delight. ]
... okay, this will absolutely help though. Man, I've missed this.
[ All of it. Not just the alcohol but also the carefree evenings, just sitting with Yuri and betting stories on all kinds of inane things. Abyss has never been affluent, never been pretty, but it used to be happy. To Balthus, it had been the first place in the world that he really would call home. It is home in a way House Albrecht can't ever be, because Balthus is not made of the stuff lords and ladies are made of. He wonders where they went wrong in raising him, sometimes. Casting the noble lifestyle aside had not felt like punishment to Balthus but like tossing off chains. Where other nobles fret and fear about losing their titles, Balthus would take any day spent hungry and beaten on the streets over returning to his old lifestyle.
This is where he belongs, among the common folks and the outcasts. He closes his eyes for just a second, listening to the murmuring in the inn, and he feels revitalized. ]
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I don't think I want to hear exactly what your idea of tricks are. Could stand to hear you call me the great Abysslord a few more times, though.
[Teasing, always teasing. But Balthus's content smile makes Yuri think he takes no offense to it. (Hopefully, by now Balthus would know not to take Yuri's sharp tongue too seriously.) Balthus finally follows suit in sipping at the mead, and the contented sigh he breathes threads warmth through Yuri's chest. It's why he negotiated for the addition of the alcohol to their deal-- even though it added another half hour to their meeting. He knew that Balthus... that the people of Abyss would find joy in the reminder of easier times. If not that, then they could at least take comfort in the distraction it offered.]
I'll be honest... I missed it, too.
[Yuri lifts his chin from his hand, tosses his hair over his shoulder as he sits back. It sounds like an easy admittance, but honesty is hard for Yuri, and he means something bigger than just the nostalgia of sitting with Balthus over a few drinks. Confessing that he missed this goes hand in hand with acknowledging that it was gone-- that Abyss was in as much danger as it was, with no funds and no prospects. No patrons to swoop in at the eleventh hour and save them. It's all on Yuri, this time... but they managed to create their own act of the goddess. That just opens up the possibility of more.
Yuri notices Balthus close his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He watches for a few beats. Balthus is rarely still like this, quiet, and Yuri feels compelled to just... take it in. Then he grabs the handle of his mug again and slides it forward to bump up against Balthus's.]
To getting hopelessly trashed with no regard for tomorrow's responsibilities.
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To exactly that! Couldn't have said it better. You always were well-spoken.
[ And he takes another hearty swig from his cup because honestly, he might as well get a headstart in on this whole getting trashed business. Bad habits are where Balthus is really in his element. ]
Up for a little betting game?
[ He doesn't know what to bet about or for, but the best ideas come spontaneously. Probably.
It's all about the principle of the matter anyway, because this is what they do when they spend nights out late talking about nothing but nonsense. Balthus would lose all the time and it would only raise his fascination with the game, if he's entirely honest. There is something intriguing about letting Yuri take everything from him like he's a deity of fortune incarnate - or maybe just a little cheater. Both of these options have their appeal. ]
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[Using his gift with words not to cheat, coerce, or wrap up slimy nobles with silver-tongued tales-- but to negotiate a deal to help Abyss, and then to toast over the victory. It's... fulfilling.
Yuri's mouth curves up into a soft smirk, eyes bright with the shine of mischief. He drinks to give himself another beat of pause, then his head tips to the side, hair cascading over his shoulder.]
Up to bleed you dry, you mean? Is the answer ever no?
[The nostalgia of Balthus offering a bet isn't lost on him. He's heard every story Balthus has to tell and then some, because Yuri is both incredibly lucky and a little cheat. That doesn't make their games any less satisfying. It's become their thing, in a way, even if they haven't had much time for it in a while. And there's a thrill in risking Balthus getting something out of him, some day. Unlikely as it is.]
I know neither of us have much of physical value to put on the line, so... play for truths? We'll throw dice. I'll even let you pick the set.
[Because both of them know every die Yuri owns is loaded.]
Whoever wins gets to ask any question. If it proves too tough to answer, [Yuri raps his knuckles against the side of his mug,] the penalty is to finish your drink. Thoughts?