welcome to the sandsea

random sentences for any / multiple scenario(s). change around as you see fit.

“ who do you think you are? “

“ wait , did you just say you love me? “

“ please just … leave me alone. “

“ i’m so happy! “

“ is this a gift for me? “

“ hey! i’ve got something for you! wait right here! “

“ i love you. “

“ shut up! shut the fuck up! “

“ who told you that?! i didn’t say that! “

“ w — what? “

“ … i’m sorry. “

“ what? ME have a crush on YOU? whaaaaaat?! haha! what? pfft … shut up! “

“ bitch , guess what? “

“ oh my god … “

“ fuck you to fucking hell! “

“ man … go to hell. “

“ what did you just send me? “

“ what did you just say? “

“ they’re totally checking you out right now. “

“ jealous?! i’m not jealous! “

“ are you jealous? “

“ wow … you’re hot when you’re angry. “

“ wow … your smile is breathtaking. “

“ you’re so stupid. “

“ okay! that’s it! put your dukes up! “

“ you don’t want me. “

“ question , you’re not dating anyone , are you? “

“ let me take you out on a date. “

“ i swear to god i’m going to scream at the top of my lungs. “

“ no! don’t tickle me! “

“ i’m not good for you , trust me. “

“ no offense but i’m out of your league. “

“ so , how does it feel to know me? a blessing , isn’t it? “

“ … why does this card say ‘ happy 3rd birthday ‘? “

“ so what will it be tonight? “

“ please , let me listen to celine dion in the dark in peace. “

“ i don’t love you. “

“ you don’t love me. “

“ … is there something you want? “

“ you know , you’re really cute. “

“ god , just let me fucking love you , you idiot! “

“ shh … don’t cry. “

“ i just feel like everything is falling apart. “

“ DON’T YOU DARE! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! “

“ hello darkness my old friend … “

Figures that Tomaj wouldn’t fall for that - it’s Vaan’s oldest trick in the book, and the bartender certainly has heard his imitation of Archadians enough to spot his farce. Guess he’ll have to think of new tricks, then. 

Shouldn’t be a problem.

Seeing as the jig is up, Vaan jolts away as Tomaj’s elbow digs into his ribs, and laughs. It’s easier, now - to joke around loudly and openly in the Sandsea like they used to before Archadian occupation. Now that all the tin-clad bastards are out of the Sandsea and out of the entire city, Vaan has felt a joy he has not known before. That, of course, translates easily to feeling just as mischievous as he always has, though now with just a touch of giddiness.

I’ve been waiting for you to get back.

The words echo in Vaan’s ears amidst the din of the bar, and his once-twisted grin softens as the rest of Tomaj’s words fade into the background. It has been too long. But it always feels that way.

Vaan closes the gap between them to tug the brunette into his arms, albeit clumsily, and nuzzles his nose over Tomaj’s ear.

“That sounds nice,” he muses in a whisper, “but if I’m being honest, there’s something else hot and tasty I’d rather put in my mouth right about now.”

The glint in Vaan’s eyes is enough to coax more than a second thought from Tomaj, and before he knows it, he’s agreeing. A subtle nod of his head rubs against the sky-pirate’s neck. 

“You do this at all of your favorite taverns?” he remarks lowly as he pulls at Vaan’s hand, moving in a way that makes him almost unnoticed entirely by guests. He stops just beyond sight of the main hall, not quite to where Vaan wishes to be, but they’d get there soon enough. For the moment, a coeurl grin spreads over his lips as he pulls Vaan closer. 

There was a long period of time when Cloud’s preferred method of delivery was straight from the bottle, three bottles minimum a day. A body pumped full of the Lifestream had more than its fair share of alcohol tolerance, and he’d aimed to push far beyond that barrier. Thankfully, those times were behind him now, but he still enjoyed the taste, and a hot day deserved a cold drink to go along.

Delaying his answer, Cloud tips the glass to his lips, the combination of cool liquid and the burn of alcohol a welcome one. It was unfortunate the script on the bottle was unfamiliar, he would have like to track this down for the bar back home.

“Midgar. Or what used to be Midgar.” Rarely did he mention Nibelheim, at home in the remains of the fallen 7th plate and its flourishing slums that were growing into quite the little city. With the reactors long destroyed, he found the handful of meters of concrete nearly as inviting as the wilderness around the small town of his birthplace.

Midgar? Such a place was unknown to the lifelong Dalmascan, though he rarely deigned to leave his homeland. This is not to say that Tomaj is unaware of the outside world. Ivalice is known to him and it’s many traders’ ports, as he has come to know them quite well in the last couple of years. Taking on the tavern after the plague swept through and carried his parents on its back was no small feat, but he’s managed to keep afloat in any way he’s been able. Even if it meant compromising morality and pride with the whelps of the Empire to do so.

His eyes move from the man and take to the dull sheen of Archadian armor sitting at a table. Helmet off and all sharp features, stunning to anyone else, no doubt, but disgusting to him. It’s repulsive, really, the way they carry themselves as if they are above mortality and all the temptations of hume. But alas, he knows where some crawl into bed and whom they crawl into bed with. Tomaj knows their secrets, their sins, and their follies. And thus he has faith that greater mortal men will smite these unimpressive mortal men as humes often do. 

A familiar voice pulls his mind from the borders of crimson that often tinge the thought of the Empire and Tomaj returns to the realm of reality as he grabs the steaming bowl being handed to him. He thanks the kitchen staff member and places it before the blond. All the while the spice-filled redolence creeps into his senses and reminds him that he has yet to eat this day. He does his best to silence the protest of his pleading stomach. 

Tomaj watched the room, from what Cloud to see, with rapt attention, even as he went about his other duties. The way he spoke, watched, carried himself…

“No, I don’t think it’s close.” He pauses, looks up at Tomaj again, and continues “…I’ve never heard of Ivalice before three days ago. I was driving in the wastelands outside Midgar… and wound up in the wrong desert.” It had taken some time to find real population of any note, and he’d nearly deplete the backup water stores he kept on his bike.

That was the other thing… the looks he got for that motorcycle… clearly he was nowhere near home.

“It’s a family recipe that my parents taught me when I was just a boy,” Tomaj explains as he pours more whiskey into the glass. This one, he decides, is on the house.

He waits a moment before he grabs the empty bowl, not wanting to seem hasty or impolite. But the bar is for drinks, his father had told him, and the quicker a dish could be removed the better. Before he takes it into the back, he eyes the customer and realizes he has yet to make a proper introduction.