Terminus Pride

Peter stared at the man for a few seconds with a Really? look on his face. He knew the guy had seen him and his embarrassing trial with the machine. Was he really gonna hold out on him?

"My clothes are kind of stuck and—you know what, I’ll even give you back the quarter." If he was going to deal with a stickler he’d play like one. "Pinky swear and all that." He walked over to one of the machines closer to the back wall and picked up a long thread. If these machines were as old as Peter suspected them to be… the oldest trick in the book would work on them. He just needed a careful hand.

"Well, alright. I can't say no to that."

The mage firmly believed in both showing kindness and helping others. Despite being in a position where questionable things needed to be done, he had his own principles.

Alvin had leaned back, getting out of Daylen’s space for the moment.

“Let me take an educated guess. I won’t be the last either?”

She would just have to keep her eye on him, even if that meant forcing herself to take part of the meaningless conversation that seemed to only be the calm before the storm.

Though Shepard wasn’t sure why she cared, she chose to repeat his name silently to herself a few times. Even if it wouldn’t matter later on, she had a habit of remembering names of everyone she came across. People that were long gone due to death, or other circumstances. People that she may never see again. All of them were remembered, even if their faces had been forgotten long ago.

“Relaxing, same as anyone else that comes here, I s’pose.” She replied bluntly, turning her head to finally fully look at him. If he wasn’t going away, she might as well have played along.

Oh, who was he kidding?

Still, this was progress. Maybe enough so that he could hint towards the next step. Alvin wasn't sure how much liquor this woman could handle. He was expecting it to be less than him, considering their difference in height and weight, but assuming something as crucial as that could lead to a major blunder. Baby steps.

The other man had leaned in, and mumbled to the mage. Honestly Daylen wasn’t sure if they were still being silly with pickpocket terms or whatever they were doing now.

"I am sure you’ll find the rigorous practice needed with the right target. Just make sure to be sharp and fast whenever you do it.”

The Hero of Ferelden honestly had no plans of using this as some kind of advantage over the other. It was merely an act of kindness the mage was used to giving out.

Unfortunately for Daylen, there was no such thing as an act of kindness to this man. He doesn't expect to recieve them, and he doesn't give them.

"C’mon, no, don’t eat my quarter, are you kidding me?"

Laundry was awful. Not having a washing machine was even worse. Still he refused to let his suit—or the rest of his clothes—get rank. Smell stuck to spandex and stayed. He jiggled the machine lightly, trying to get his quarter to go in just a little freaking more. Nothing. And the freaking machine was locked too, so his clothes and costume were stuck in soapy hell. He resorted to kicking the machine once, and, forgetting that his strength was not what it used to be, hopped away with pain pulsating in his foot. 

He froze when he heard another machine in the laundromat start a cycle. Peter picked this time of the day to come because no one was ever there at this time. He turned slowly to look to see who the newcomer was.

Not his place to ask. 

He took a slow, deliberate drink of his soda, contemplating his next words. Sure, he may have had a golden heart and all that, but that didn't mean he was going to cough up a quarter that easily. Mostly for shits and giggles, really. He had one in his pocket right now and wouldn't miss it if he decided to give it out.

"Well, if you do not have such a gentle touch perhaps it is best to avoid it then? Unless you get better at being up close and personal with targets.”

Although Daylen had only stole from the rich, and it was in the name of defiance against Howe rather than just theft.

The mage had dug into his robes, pulling out some money. He didn’t have much with him, but it was something.

His eyes dropped to the cash in Daylen's hand. He stared at it blankly for a few moments before accepting it with a rough sigh and silent debt. "We all take risks," though gambling was never his strong suit. If his luck fell short, he was in some deep shit accepting this aid. He hoped this Daylen wouldn't use it as leverage for whatever his sick mind (exploding people) desired, but if Alvin was frank, he was expecting it. What he needed was money, and his pride was expendable, swallowed down when coin met his palm.

"Yeah? Don’t sweat it." The day Santa started policing people was the day he ended up on at least a dozen shit lists. Beyond his psychic abilities, he was as average as human got. It wasn’t like he could survive getting flung off a building or slamming into a wall the way anime characters could, and he’d seen those fights break out in this very city; he never bothered to stick around to see how those got resolved. It was just too damn dangerous for a guy like him.

Santa's advice brought a quiet laugh out of Alvin. He was touched by the idealism in the statement. Enemies though, well, he couldn't imagine a life without them. Vanishing was an art he had honed from childhood, and he was certain he'd have to practice it again here. "All part of the business, I'm afraid."

“I understand. I could not count how many of the friends I have in my country I met while they were trying to kill me. It seems to have become a habit of mine. Either someone’s trying to kill me or someone is trying to pickpocket me.”

He was being completely serious. Zevran, Nathaniel, Velanna technically counts. The mage had met the assassin Daud in this city when the older man tried to pickpocket him.

The mage wanted to wash his robes as well. Thankfully his house was not that far from here.

Alvin flicked some hair away from his eyes. "I don't really do the whole pickpocket thing often. Neither got the gentle touch nor unassuming aura for it."

The mage knew nearly nothing about guns apart from what he’d seen in this city, and while his hand had been tried at swordplay it did not really suit him. Using Winter’s Breath was still the way to go. While he considered this normal, the only type of magic Daylen was against happened to be blood magic. The experience in the Circle with Uldred may have taken him off that path for life.

To him, it was just a spell. Like the projectile the other man had used was just an attack.

“Sparing you? But I had no intention of attacking you in the first place. The only reason I reacted this way is because I can recognize killing intent when I see it. Those men did not just want our belongings, but planned to do away with us as well. We were defending ourselves.

"Yes, well, you can't be too cautious. I don't have to list every time someone's told me to trust them, only for them to have some ulterior motive." Was that a description of himself? Whoops. And what weird hero this was, exploding people. From now on, he was dubbing Daylen Explodey. "My name's Alvin, sword for hire. Excellent cost-performance, if you're ever looking. Not that you'd need it."

He had become accustomed to combat from early childhood, but the clean cut of a sword or shot of a gun was nothing compared to this... insane destruction. Wherever he was dropped, there was some fucked up shit going on. At least today he learned what man exactly he wasn't going to screw with. Especially if he could call exploding people 'just a spell'.

Just a spell. Right. No comment.

He listened to Daylen's speech and watched the result in stunned silence. 

As the final wave of human remains rained down on the scene, he finally became aware of the smell. Blood and piss dampening the air and sticking to his skin. The pickpocketing trouble seemed very distant compared to what just happened.

He hoped the channeler put that behind him, too, because of all the ways Alvin could imagine himself dying, exploding was not on the list. He didn't try to cover up his disgust with a usual grin. 

"Just fine. I think I need to take a long, cold shower though."

But now it was time to continue on. This time, the mage had something slightly different in mind.

The command he was given made a twisted sort of sense.

What made Thedas mages different from mages in other worlds is that some mages only seemed to have control of one element. If you saw Daylen you would think ice, but for example he’d just used an Earth type of projectile.

At first there were just the five left, but then Alvin had made his next move.

One of the thugs on the ground had started to scoot backwards, frantically searching for the weapon he had dropped earlier. That wasn't who Alvin was focused on, instead being the other man who had fallen during his previous attack.

He almost admired the chum's perseverance. The force had broken the thug's nose, and his face was swollen, yet he had quickly managed to stand up and charge, gripping a large kitchen knife in both hands. Not quickly enough, though. Alvin sidestepped and tripped the man, who tumbled forward, face landing next to the body of his former companion.

Not checking to relish any sort of horrified expressions, Alvin raised his blade and thrust the tip downward, letting gravity propel it even further. Though not truly cutting, the sword had effectively destroyed the man's spine, and after several haphazard twitches, the body went limp.