That shall be King, hereafter! (semi-hiatus)

In all honesty, Festé had been rather more preoccupied with the coins in his hat. But it was the lengthy and somewhat awkward pause that diverted his attention, with each passing second a questioning expression etched further onto his features. Though despite mild confusion, he chose to sweep it aside as the stranger eventually continued. He got the impression that perhaps the gentleman was intoxicated?

“Well, The Elephant is a popular place around here- it’s not too rough but it won’t burn a hole in your wallet. And you can get a room there if needs be.” He moved to indicate the direction by making a ‘straight ahead’ gesture. “Just follow that street right there and make a left. It’s on the following corner, you can’t miss the sign.”

“You know, if-” He broke off and coked his head, frown furrowing his brows as he noted the fidgety behavior.

“Is, er…is everything alright with you, sir?”

Hazel eyes followed in the direction the man gestured, his brain fooling his nose into thinking there was a pleasant smell coming from said direction. He finally released the enthusiasm from his smile, nodding as he committed the instructions to memory. Soon he would have his feast and continue on his merry way, once again locking himself away in his castle as the transformation would take hold.

Once again he hesitated at the other’s question, finding comfort again in fidgeting with the seams of his clothing. His hope of leaving as soon as possible was quickly diminished  feeling the question drift around in his head.

❝ Yes sir, there’s absolutely nothing wrong! Thank you, your help is appreciated. ❞

It had been a day rough for tips. The moment his trusty banjo and melodious sombre catches had earned him sufficient sum for some bread and a bottle of beer, Festé had promptly decided to call it a day. He doubted much more would come of busking at this point, especially now as the crowds dwindled with the sunlight.

Having slung his instrument over his shoulder, he paused a brief moment to recount the pennies in his hat before beginning an about turn in the direction of home. Though being addressed gave him pause, causing him to turn idly back. He waited a moment to ensure that it was indeed he with whom the stranger wished to speak before offering his reply

“Depends what you’re budget is, sir. There’s an abundance of taverns and inns in the vicinity: The Elephant is just around the corner, or The Nine Ducats closer to the square.” Head cocked, he regarded the cloaked figure with some degree of curiosity, trying to pass judgment on their level of affluence. But it was difficult, what with such curious and concealing garments. 

“Though if you’re looking or something more fancy, you’ve come to the wrong area. You’ll have to travel a little further uptown.”

He was genuinely surprised to hear a rather non-aggressive response, half expecting to be accused of wanted to hunt innocent people. It startled him, a response floating away from his grasp as he blankly stared at the man for longer than he probably should have. 

❝ Whatever establishment can subdue the growing pains in my stomach I will be satisfied with. ❞

The smile still painfully persistent, afraid to drop it to make sure he still appeared pleasant. Though he wasn’t completely sure whether the slightly sharpened teeth it contained would help or hurt his situation. His hands softly fiddled with the seams of his clothing. Luckily the sleeves were long and tattered, hiding the nervousness rising in his chest. Hopefully this would all be over soon.

Macbeth: I'm a knife.

Walking throughout the small town was hell. His large towering frame and the cape draped over it only drew attention to him, though he prayed to melt into the background. Though Macbeth tried his hardest to keep to himself, he felt the townspeople’s eyes bore into his back. They knew of the rumors, they saw the dark castle, and they could see how he softly lumbered amongst their toothpick houses.

Macbeth began to grow desperate, since his mind was unable to produce a proper establishment that wouldn’t promptly toss him out for his dark demeanor. Hazel eyes darted about for a moment until they landed on a man covered from head to toe in the brightest colors he had ever seen in awhile. He approached the man, dropping his hood as he approached him, and took a deep breath.

❝ Pardon me sir, I hope I don’t intrude. However, I require nourishment,  and unfamiliar with the local establishments that could mend this issue. ❞

He plastered an awkward smile for good measure.

       dolos gave a small smile. he finished cleaning easily, then turning to the papers in front of him. giving a small breath that sounded very similar to fuck he picked up the pages and crumpled them in his hands. well, there goes that. he lifted his fingers to get the bartenders attention, and a replacement glass was put in front of him.   ❝ it’s not so hard to do. just, throw the clothes out and get new ones. ❞  

He chuckled softly at his suggestion, words stuck somewhere in his throat as his colleague shot him a panicked look from across the way. Why now, especially when everything was going smoothly? The agent sat himself back down, finishing the rest of his drink to ignore the confusion that was being tossed about the room between the rest of the team. ❝You had some nice sket- -ches there, before the spill. Do you bring work here normally?❞ 

Instinctively Othello glanced down at his own hands. They carried no more blood than those with lighter skin— no less, either, and strangely they seemed to bear its mark with even greater ease.  Men saw him, but they did not see him as he was, general worthy of respect; only a brute.

“You would call me cousin,” he ventured. The notion felt foreign to his tongue. “Yet you know me not.” It was an unasked for change in subject; to bring it back in line he added, “Indeed, but for silver and this world’s need for it, I would give up battle. I like life better than death.”

❝You’re unknown to me but we’ve suffered, killed as if we were born from the same womb.❞

He studied the other for a moment, hands now pushed up against his chest to steady them. Out of all the men he has seen, this one understood his predicament the most. The worried crease in his brow and the sadden gloss in his eyes revealed it all. Whatever the other had done reduced him to utter turmoil. This is what madness must of looked like.

❝Battles are gruesome but in my mind, death is a bridge that my feet should have crossed. ❞

Concern grew in his chest as he gently pushed himself up into a sitting position. Macbeth had transformed last night, that much he could confirm, but who put him outside– especially in such a compromising position? For now, luck was on his side and no passerby would be able to see him stark naked among the old oaks of the forest. Such luck was fleeting and he should have used it to its full potential, if he weren’t as weakened as he was.

❝Damn it all to hell! What temptress’ tongue  led me to my doom, what foolish brain do I have in my skull? Hell only knows if one rattles around there.❞  he muttered to himself as his eyes scanned his surroundings for literally anything to cover himself with.