M || Caidence Threstle - Tumblr Posts
seated at the bar, spending his night with another bottle of jack, caidence paid for his drinks with the money tucked away in yet another wallet he'd borrowed from someone in passing. it wasn't an honest way to make money but it was entertaining; at least for a moment or two-- and it made drinking easier since, technically, he always drank for free and never paid for himself.
there was some decent music playing in the background, some piano medley he didn't quite recognize, but all in all it was turning out to be a nice night. all he needed to really enjoy himself was some form of distraction.
he would do.
"self taught? i thought you sounded a bit rougher than a professional but for an amateur? it works." he answered with an easy smile as he took a sip from his glass of bourbon. "is that all you're after? just a tip?" caidence teased with a smirk; his tongue pushing against his bottom lip as he turned a bit in his seat so he could face the handsome stranger more. "if you don't have the jar, yet, then it's the least i can do." it wasn't his money after all. leaning over the counter, he waved over the bartender and told him to add whatever the man with him ordered to his tab.
LOCATION: A local bar MUSE: Wolfram Wagner STATUS: Open | @unveilstarters
Wolfram technically didn't lie when he introduced himself as an aspiring musician. He does know how to play more than a few instruments. Especially piano, he had all the time in the world to practice. He is nowhere close to a professional, classically trained pianist, but he is pretty good for an amateur if he says so himself. It took a bit to find a place with a piano, but he did manage to convince the owner to let him play.
After he finishes the last song, a quirky and upbeat tune he picked up while traveling, Wolfram saunters over to the bar. Getting a free drink as per the deal with the bar, he downs his cold beer. "Not bad for a self-taught, huh?" He asks the other patron next to him at the bar before flashing a cheeky grin. "I don't have a jar yet. So if you wanna tip me, you can just buy me a drink."
"it wasn't an insult." caidence answered plainly. "some of us like a little roughness." he mused. taking another nursing sip of his drink, his lips pulled into a smirk against the rim of his glass, he kept his eyes on the man with him as a few people moved around them. despite the man's confidence, and the fact he'd just played music live, caidence seemed to be the only one really giving him any attention at the moment. good. that meant he had the man to himself. for now, anyway. "hey, just a tip is doable-- and it's my pleasure. you aren't asking for much," he teased, his tongue pushing against his bottom lip as the corners of his mouth lifted into another smirk. "i knew a musician, once, that liked asking me to give him head after he performed; something about he deserved to feel good after making everyone else feel good by playing for them..."
"...but if you're easy to please and only need a drink then, please, order whatever you'd like and however many you'd like as well." he did furrow his brow when the man before him ordered a cheap bourbon but he didn't think much of it. maybe he was being polite since he thought the money was caidence's own. maybe he just wanted to get drunk quick and didn't bother himself with taste. maybe he just liked cheap bourbon. as long as he didn't take the drink and saunter away from him, caidence didn't care what he ordered.
"ah, no." he answered with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "rather i haven't lived here long enough to consider myself a regular, i don't think, but i do come here a lot. maybe that should count? what do you think?"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Wolf shrugs, "what can I say, back in my days I couldn't pay for no teach, no piano, so I just taught myself." He then downs the half of his beer. He supposes he did want to learn music when he was young, but instruments were expensive. It took him decades to be in a place to actually learn how to play anything. It's a fun hobby. And sometimes, he gets a free drink for it so that's a win for him. "Just a tip." Wolf repeats with a cackle. "Wouldn't say no to a round of applause and praises though. I'm easy to please like that." He finishes his current drink with a few more gulps and orders a cheap bourbon. The bartender gives him a look for it, but hey, he grew up poor, drinking trashy drinks, so he craves trashy drinks sometimes.
"So at the risk of soundin' like I'm using a line, you come here often?" He asks tapping at the bar rhythmically. "Actually asking 'cause it's my first time here and, if you're a regular, I now know who'd buy me a free drink for a song."
location: masque of red death open to: open to anyone
caidence's info
making his way back to the private room he'd spent an hour, or so, in with a stranger-- dancing for him-- the half naked, mildly intoxicated harpie was hoping to slip in unnoticed to retrieve his discarded shirt. he was a bit disappointed that all he'd managed to do with the stranger was dance but they couldn't all be winners.
as he stepped into the room after peering at the number on the door to make sure it was right for too long, he was surprised to see someone was already in the room. cleaning, masturbating, waiting for someone else to join them-- he honestly didn't know why they were there by themselves but he didn't care. he was a harpie on a mission. he wanted his shirt.
they just happened to be holding it.
"that's mine." he spoke up with a lick of his lips as he strode forward to pull at the balled up fabric in their hands. "you weren't thinking of taking that from me, now, were you?"
@unveilstarters
"mhmm," caidence nodded along, his tongue pushing against his bottom lip, as he looked at the other without a hint of belief behind the playfulness in his eyes. "right, you were just going to come find me and return it after you finished taking care of yourself. a modern hero and a saint."
holding onto the balled up fabric of his shirt, the harpie didn't steal it from the other's hands. no. he simply stood there, holding onto it, watching as the other continued to touch themself. this wasn't the first time he's come across a man using an article of his clothing as a means to an end but normally they had, at least, met him first.
"should i be flattered you were getting off to my shirt without even knowing it's mine or insulted?" he questioned with a teasing grin. "better yet-- would it ruin the mood for you, hero, if i offered you a hand?"
˙ ˖ ✶ Cadence
Izzy had been extremely pent up recently, finding it hard to keep his mind focused on anything other than the straying thoughts of another's body. The way he craved warmth, that feeling that could only be sated with another's touch. Nothing he did was enough, and it had been affecting his training, something his adoptive father had noted and teased him about.
So as he found himself in the bowels of red death, Izzy grabbed the nearest piece of discarded fabric, sensing the sexual energy that radiated off of it, his hands finding his own core as he kept himself busy visualizing the owner of said shirt.
"Sorry..." he gulped, slightly embarrassed, not fully stopping touching himself as the man spoke up. "Wasn't planning on taking it but you look much better without a shirt anyway, so I'd probably be doing the town a huge favor. Call me something of a modern hero."
ED SKREIN The Transporter Refueled (2015) | dir. Camille Delamarre
the fates had a funny way of making people cross paths; like children playing with their favorite toys, putting them wherever they liked or in strange situations without any regard to sense or logic. they certainly seemed to enjoy playing with caidence. why else, after all this time, would he find himself in some idyllic, quaint little town-- the same idyllic, quaint little town that rictor had set up shop in; and no, that wasn't a play on words. the man had quite literally set up shop here in alexandria.
at first caidence didn't believe the whispers he heard. their relationship, if you could even call it that, had always been complicated at best. there was a closeness between them that allowed for... heated exchanges and moments stolen away together. they even, on occasion, worked with each other and for each other but there was never a discussion of what that could possibly mean for them. caidence didn't need it to mean anything, but part of him still felt hurt that the man didn't even bother to call him and let him know he had a shop now. what, were the harpies stolen trinket's not good enough for him to sell?
waltzing into the man's shop, caidence half expected it to be someone else with the same name-- he wouldn't put it past the fates, they really did have a sick sense of humor-- but much to his surprise the voice that greeted him as the bell annoyingly announced his presence was all too familiar. it really was him.
following after it, caidence approached the man as he worked but there was no grand reintroduction between the two of them. in fact, as rictor looked up at him it seemed as if the man didn't even recognize him; though that easily could have been the fault of those ridiculous glasses he was wearing. "yes, ahem. good day sir," caidence spoke, purposefully lowering his voice to try and disguise himself as he spoke. "i set up an appointment with you about a week ago. richard swallower? i had an old family heirloom i was hoping you could appraise for me..."
@unveiledvagabonds; for caidence to drop by rictor's store with a gift.
rictor was at his desk in the shop, loupe attached to his glasses. the witch was currently working on restoring an antique, being extremely meticulous and delicate with the object. it was a miniature sculpture that was at least a couple hundred years old. brush in hand, he was dabbing a little bit of plaster on a thin crack to cover it up. rictor adjusted the desklight shining down on it to check if he'd missed a spot. it was then when he heard the shopkeeper's bell ring, signalling a potential customer. "give me a moment! i'll be right with you." he called out as he tilted the sculpture around to catch the light.
satisfied that the crack had been covered, the witch placed the brush down on the wooden table, which in and of itself was also an antique. "now what can i do you for?" he asked, looking up from his work; not realising he still had his loupe on, and as such failed to immediately recognise the man before him due to his magnified and distorted vision.