(no subject)

[dominare]

Characters: Haytham Kenway and you
Date: 3/31/2013
Location: a little bit of everywhere, more specifically fire sector and wood sector
Situation: Haytham's doing what the British do best, chilling and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
Warnings/Rating: nonya



Earth Sector;
[ ever seen someone utterly fascinated by mold? Whatever the answer to that question was, it is now yes, because Haytham is examining a growth of black mold with the scrutiny and devotion of an usher at the New York Symphony.

For a moment, it appears he's content to look, and not touch. Wait a few seconds more, and you'll spot him take out a knife to carve out a sliver of mold, complete with a nice chunk of tree along with it. If you wanted to stop and confront him about his lack of environmental concern, you need to hurry along because he's scaling up a tree, nearly about to make his escape in the treetops. ]

Fire Sector;
[ there is a quaint little console cafe Haytham is fond of visiting. Maybe it's the tea, which has become rather lackluster since the rationing, or the atmosphere, which unfortunately borders kitschy, or the unspoken understanding between the owner and Haytham that he should be left alone to his own devices at all times, or at least until he needed a cup refilled.

whatever the reason, it's one of Haytham's usual haunts, and today he's settled in a quiet corner with his journal laid out in front of him, quietly tapping his empty quill on the open page. If you're very observant, you'll notice a slight bump in the journal's pages, where his precursor amulet is safely tucked. ]

( ooc; BUG HIM IN ONE OF TWO PLACES. GO FORTH POR FAVOR )

Comments

[inseine]

Ah! I have knocked my head once or twice on a low doorframe, [Javert murmurs wryly to his glass.] Comes with springing up taller than a beanpole by my 18th year.

[Javert sets the bottle back down. While Haytham and Amon talk about things with which he does not sympathize like children and brothers, his gaze bounces between the two in turn, listening intently. He does make a concerted effort to slow down his drinking, the little voice called conscience in the back of his mind whispering nasty little nothings about how he Does Not Drink and other such rubbish. Speaking of which - after a moment's glance at Amon's drooping posture, he casually slides the bottle away from his new acquaintance's reach. Let's make that a bit more challenging for him before the migraines set in.

He does bat an eyebrow and curl his lip at Amon's increasingly fogged rambling. Alcohol should not take this quick to set in, should it?]

That is the drink talking, [Javert snorts.] It might be the son you saw. I believe Monsieur said he is here in Keeliai. [Haytham is a rather unforgettable sort of man. He makes an impression. Surely Amon would know if he met Haytham before or not. He sips his whiskey again with a light shrug.]

And, well, families do tend to look alike. There's your familiarity!

[dominare]

Javert is correct; the clinic was our first meeting— you would remember if we had spoken before.

[ COME ON.

The bottle of honey whiskey nears three forths empty, a ridiculously fast pace considering it was for the indulgence of only three old men. Haytham's careful in his drink, making sure not to get in over his head and suddenly spill his darkest secrets.

Although at this point, the only one he has left (that matters here) is that he's a Templar. ]

There is family resemblance, but he is larger, coarser, and will go on at length about his futile, overly-idealistic quest. Oh, Connor is most certainly here— sulking in the trees, no doubt.

[ every time freedom and revolution is brought up, SHOT. He takes a heavy sip, a sign of his obvious discontent, before continuing on ]

I have a son, yes. But that fact alone does not make me a father.

[amonfire]

Yes, Javert demonstrates he has a habit of being correct. [ Amon mechanically reached outward only to find his hand grouping empty space; he grimaced but his mood didn't appear too soured. ] It's good know your formative years spent knocking into doorframes didn't adversely affect your capacity for reasonable sequitur.

[ Inexperience in heavy drinking dulled the natural gravitas of his character, but Amon stubbornly held on to whatever vanity made him care so much for appearances to sit up straight and hold a cornering stare at Haytham. ]

You and he share a profile. I met the boy not too long ago- if you want to call a brief scuffle on the rooftops a 'meeting.' He's very talented at throwing fists but I don't take it you hold that as a point of pride. However...

[ Whiskey loosened scruples and he just outright said it, ] I wouldn't have guessed right away; he is very much like myself, or even Javert. I don't know where you were sprung but among the three of us you're very. Well.

[ A cold ass honkey. ]

Javert, I hope your lack of experience with the subject matter hasn't made you feel excluded. [ Nice save. ]

[inseine]

Yes, you have crushed my spirit, [Javert mumurs with an eyeroll.] You will find there are few things I cannot handle. Exclusion is not one of them.

[Good God, Amon, stop using your long fancy words, they are starting to annoy our lower-class ex-Inspector, here. Javert is about to polish off whatever is left in his current glass when, instead, he slams it down without warning.]

Hold it.

[It is an abrupt, perhaps too-enthusiastic interjection. Javert is a man equally inexperienced with drink as he is with family. He peers at Amon closely, eyes wide.]

The rooftop-climber you mentioned. You don't mean the dark-skinned acrobat? [Considering he had done nothing but sip throughout the conversation, with nothing to add on the topic of sons, his language is destined to loosen quickly.] The fool leaping from the tallest cornices, and you say he is like myself!

[He is about to refute it when the sting of irony strikes him across the cheek. Oh, never mind that. Did he mumble that aloud? He might have. He does not care. He shifts his indescribable look to Haytham.]

--What were you saying? You were denying your fatherhood. Continue. Do not let me interrupt.

[dominare]

He throws accusations far better than he does fists— neither of them very skillfully.

[ the fact both of them ran into Connor was baffling, but he supposes with the size of Keeliai, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Connor was good at running into all the wrong people, after all.

His glass is empty, and he keeps it that way for now. All the talk of fathers and sons and leaps of faith is rather sobering, and there's a bit of fatherly pride in his next statement, which comes out in a rather domineering tone. ]

A simple fall won't suffice to kill him; do you think I'd have bothered with him if it were?

[ Seriously you gais. Seriously. Have more faith in Runs On and On. With the suaveness of an auctioneer, Haytham turns the conversation from his inability to be a gud role model and back to Javert. ]

Let's not dwell on the subject of children; I've said my share. You are rather alike, in a way. Direct, forceful— among other things.

[ 'other' things. ]

[amonfire]

I meant to imply he looked more like us than Haytham.

[ The tone of his voice wasn't accusatory because such an observation hardly cast Haytham in a negative light. But the topic, it seemed, was off the table and while ever-curious Amon was happy to cease arguing over Haytham's apparently long-ignored fatherhood. ]

Do we?

[ Not addressing Haytham speaking out of a brassy side of his mouth with 'other things' and instead reaching across the table for the bottle. Slowly and careful not to spill he fills not just glass but tops off his companions ]

I would argue that you two hold more in common.

[ Amon pointed to Javert with glass in hand and amber gold sloshing threateningly close to spilling over the edge. Fortunately Amon was only inclined to speaking with his hands, not drinking so much that his hands ceased to be controllable. ]

Javert smiles, if you can call the way he shows his teeth smiling, like a wolf at my heels before he bites. And you sit there and watch everything as would some lofty hawk, or eagle. Before swooping down with some smart comment.

You're both so predatory in a conversation.

i am the latest late that ever lated

[inseine]

[Right on cue, Javert bares not just his teeth, but all of his gums in a lupine smile.]

I must be the most approachable fellow on the block, the way you two describe me.

[Amon must have noticed that irreproachability is exactly what Javert always strove to be. His eyes glimmer wetly, and he polishes off the last of whatever-was-left in his glass with a sharp kick of his wrist.]

You meant the colour of my skin, then--[his glance sweeps over Amon] and yours. Of course. I only look at myself in the mirror each day.

[Javert idly spins his empty glass on the table. His hands become restless easily. He speaks out of the corner of his wolfish mouth,]

But I suppose that is right. I shall have to pick up a wider brim for my hat when the days get longer, before you start mistaking me for your reckless welp.