[hr][center][@Hekazu] [color=tan]The Unnamable[/color][/center][hr]This discussion had been... well. If what was being said was to be taken for the truth of the matter, things were all around the place indeed. But George was safe, and was that not what truly mattered here? The strange eyed rider atop a horse of even stranger composition slowly relinquished the two handed grip on the puppet and dared move the mount again, though the crone was still given a wide berth. There were many things that were not quite what they seemed, that much was known to all. And despite the even oddly benevolent disposition, something reeked in this encounter.

The booming thunder would not leave much time for thinking, however. Especially not when the white flakes, or even globs, began their fall. It was again time for the ragged man to hunch over and pull their ever so precious puppet under their coat for protection. There was visible panic in those purple eyes, not the least thanks to the group ranger yelling to seek shelter and the obvious dissolving of the bugs that formed the mounts of the present majority.

But there was a brief inner fight of self-preservation against something quite different. A man lay motionless on the roads, fallen off the roof like a cheap ragdoll. Was there a reason to bother with it? Yes there indeed was. The spontaneously dismantling horse was encouraged to move on faster as its rider sought to sate a burning desire. One to see what this was all about, all the while keeping an eye out for anything that could protect them from the elements.

[hr][center][@Irredeemable] [b]Orhvin Yi[/b][/center][hr]Sleep. Not deep. Not dreamless. The infernal thoughts that plagued him when he didn't have enough alcohol in his mind to keep them away. Red and white and black and teeth and steel and blood and vampires and death and pain... They whirled in his mind, plaguing his unguarded grey matter. The dream ended as he found himself falling through the whirl of emotions into the open, fanged mouth of the -

He hit the ground hard, feeling something pop. Pain burst across his right shoulder, but he didn't let out a noise. What in the nine hells was going on right now? The man lay on the ground, feeling the mud squish between him and the cobblestones as he attempted to piece together the previous night.  Damage report. His jaw ached from hitting the cobbles. He had done something terribly wrong to his right arm, and all of the ribs on his right side were aching. His legs, surprisingly enough felt fine. 

His head did not though. Not just because it had hit the cobbles much like anything else, but because a hangover was clawing its way into his mind. Briefly, concern flashed across his mind- his soju, before he realized that had the bottles shattered, he would be feeling dramatically worse than he was right now.

There was someone approaching him. He supposed he had to take an action, didn't he?

He coughed once, twice, then three times. No blood. Excellent. Not even wet. Pulling himself together, using his staff to assist him, he stared up, first at the strange, disintegrating steed, and then at the man atop it. Never had a stranger fit the idea of being 'queer' more than this man did. [b]"Stranger."[/b] The man acknowledged him, then reached for a flask.

Empty. He cursed in a foreign tongue under his breath, and tried another one. Also empty. The third one though, he found gold. The cork popped out with ease, and the smell of good, strong, fine booze filled the air around him. The driving rain, chilling him, seemed dramatically less bad as he took a swig, feeling the fire run through his veins once more.

Not to mention the accursed hangover had been beaten back again. It was always chasing him, like a tiger that didn't know when to break off the hunt. Its claws had come close to snaring him, but every time he had evaded it at the last moment, saved by the clasping of a flask in his hands and  a burn down his gullet.

With the stuff in his system, he reached over to the arm where pain still thrummed through his body. He tried to manipulate it- Not enough alcohol. The rest of his flask went down nice and easy, and then he grit his teeth. Hana. Dul. Set... He squeezed his jaw down to the point where he could swear a tooth was going to splinter, and then lifted up his arm.

[i]Crunch.[/i]

Gods be fucking damned that had hurt. It would hurt more as he rolled the shoulder around, wincing even through the pleasantness that his head was fogged up in. He needed to make sure that it was moving properly, and that it seemed to be. With that dealt with, he could pick up his staff once more, bracing all his possessions in the little sack.

[b]"Is there anything I can do for you?"[/b] His eyes, unlike some, was only enhanced by the alcohol. They sparkled a little with light, and his natural expression- that of a faintly cocky smile, began to seep through his tired facial muscles.[hr]