Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV sat at a darkened table in the corner of a lively pub. He was alone of course, with his wife being taken from him recently he wasn't much for the company of others. No one dared to bother him, the only other person who would approach him was the waitress who would bring him another beer only when flagged down.
Jarvan was already on his third glass of the night and feeling slightly tipsy. Saying he was upset was a severe understatement, it was more like he was distraught and on the verge of depression. He wanted more than anything to have his love back, and may even see her in places she is not.
Post by The Widowmaker on May 30, 2013 4:39:12 GMT -5
After the invasion Evelynn had remained within the Demacian city, so much misery and suffering flowed from the city like pus from an infected wound. She smiled as she stalked through the streets, wherever she when there was pain. She could siphon it to her hearts content! It felt wonderful, it sent shivers crawling down her spine each time she simply walked past someone who was in mourning. The physical pain the soldiers were in was even better, sometimes she would simply lose herself in the sweet bliss of agony for hours on end, laughing hysterically as she embraced the tortured city's screams.
On one particular night Evelynn was simply walking through the streets, dressed as usual with the pink leather straps crisscrossing over her body. And just as usual, she turned heads as she walked, a slight grin on her lips that caused her fangs to show clearly as she moved. Yet she was beginning to become bored with Demacia and its broken state, there was little fun to be had breaking those that were already broken. Until that is, she heard rumors of the Prince of Demacia was nearby, a few of the guards were cautioned not to disturb the prince, news of his marriage and then his wife's disappearance had spread like wildfire after the invasion. Some were concerned the prince would have violent tenancies should he be annoyed. This caused Evelynn to smile happily as the growing shadows seemed to swallow her while she moved off in search of Jarvan.
Evelynn had followed the rumors and chatter until she came across the pub where Prince Jarvan resided, she would enter unnoticed as she stuck to the shadows, she made not a single sound while she surveyed the area in search of him, down the back by himself and avoided by everyone. Evelynn grinned in anticipation, perfect. She would appear before the prince simply sitting opposite him with her legs crossed and chin resting cupped in her hands upon the table, "Hello Jarvan, having fun I see?"
Jarvan gulped down mouthfuls of the bitter, frothy liquid in his glass. He was attempting to drown his misery. He almost spit out his drink as he heard a whisper-like voice from across the booth. He lowered his glass and scowled when he saw Evelynn. "Fun? Well, you have a skewed view on fun." He downed the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass on the table.
He raised his hand to flag down the waitress. "Come." He barked the command. A young waitress quickly runs to the table and bows to him.
"What do you need my Lord?"
"Bring me something stronger."
"Yes my lord!" The girl bows to him again and picks up the empty glass before leaving.
The prince turns and to his displeasure, Evelynn is still sitting there. "Begone woman, there is no place for you here." He then put his head on the table and waited for his next drink to come.
Post by The Widowmaker on May 30, 2013 22:38:01 GMT -5
Evelynn smirked and leaned back in her chair, "My idea of fun? I think you would enjoy it..." Her molten yellow eyes seemed to shine slightly in the dull light of the pub, "Maybe I don't want to go? Come ooon, just a few drinks together and I'll happily be on my way?"
Jarvan was displeased, but didn't feel like exerting the energy needed to kick Evelynn out. "Fine, you may stay for a few drinks." At this time the waitress returned with a new beverage in hand. Jarvan hastily grabbed the glass from her.
"What is this?"
"Bourbon my Lord, the best we have."
"This will do" Jarvan takes a swig from the glass and grimaces a little. He then remembers Evelynn and makes a motion towards the waitress. "Get this woman whatever she wants as well."
The waitress looks at eve and is surprised, but remains professional. "Of course my Lord. What would you like miss?"
Post by The Widowmaker on Jun 5, 2013 13:25:11 GMT -5
Evelynn gave Jarvan a coy smile, "I get to share a drink with the prince of Demacia!" She brought a hand up to her chin and rest it upon the table, still smiling as her eyes moved to the waitress, "I'm in the mood for some whiskey if you wouldn't mind."
She looked back to Jarvan, her smile leaving her face for a feigned pout, "So what has the princely prince all sad and alone drowning his sorrows?"
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Dec 20, 2013 16:13:27 GMT -5
"Drowning? No. Wading is more like it. Don't act as if you're out of touch. No doubt it's the same reason you've come sniffing around."
Jarvan IV eyed her coldly, dull anger cutting the edge of his sadness. He took a quick drink and laid it down on the table softly and intently, as if he was trying to keep it from making a noise.
"Whiskey. Small surprise. Tell me, here to offer your condolences?"
He glanced around the room. They would've seemed alone, if not for all the faces Jarvan IV recognized. Watchers, guards, all playing with their drinks and at their conversations. No, Evelynn had come alone.
Post by The Widowmaker on Dec 20, 2013 17:22:01 GMT -5
A smile broke out upon Evelynn's features, her fangs glinting in the dull light as her eyes lit up with amusement, "No, come now, that would really just be reminding you of the fact you couldn't save your wife from the clutches of the shadow isles." She purred softly before adding with a sing-song tone, "I wouldn't be that cruel."
Evelynn glanced to the waitress who brought her the bottle of whiskey she had requested, "The prince will be paying, thanks." She took the bottle and placed it in the middle of the table, easily in reach of both the prince and Evelynn, "I came because I heard you might be in need of... Cheering up."
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Dec 21, 2013 1:00:09 GMT -5
"Of course you wouldn't" He took another drink. "So what does your brand of cheer entail?" He took another, always careful to set the glass down quietly and safely.
"Let me guess. Drunkenness? Sadism?... Disloyalty? You'll only get the one if you stay here."
Reaching over the table, he grabbed the bottle of bourbon whiskey, filling both of their tumblers slowly and deliberately. His stare bore down on her, straight to the eyes. Dark. Dangerous. Cruel. All the things he didn't look for in a woman. She was beautiful, but in the brutal way that a tiger is beautiful. The man didn't need to see her stripes to know the story. Her carnivorous eyes gave her away.
Post by The Widowmaker on Dec 21, 2013 1:41:05 GMT -5
Evelynn simply smiled, the golden glint in her eyes flashing briefly causing it to look almost demonic. Though, that could simply be a trick of the alcohol, "Do you really think I would be oh, so low as to cause the high and mighty prince to be disloyal?" One hand grasped the tumbler, while her other hand moved to slowly and softly tap her long pointed nails across the table, the rhythm was slow at first. Tap... Tap... Tap... Slowly it speeding up, tap, tap, tap. Before falling to the slower rhythm, almost hypnotic as the golden eyes of the predator before the prince locked upon his own.
"What would cheer the prince up, hmmm?"
Last Edit: Dec 21, 2013 1:41:46 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Dec 21, 2013 11:24:04 GMT -5
Glancing at her hand briefly he spoke, "You could start by being quiet." Tempt him? Tempt his wrath perhaps. Fiora was a tease and a bragart, and he missed her like a dying man misses a lung. It was a constant, terrible pain. She could be hurting, wrapped in chains or set upon by whips. What if she was dying? What if she was... Jarvan IV thought of her face, put the pained expression of his minds eye could only paint her crying. Tears rolled down a face that pulled into a grimace, her fingers still rapping on the wood. He drew a long, ragged breath and spoke loudly in his anger.
Post by The Widowmaker on Jan 7, 2014 3:16:03 GMT -5
"Tsk, so rude.." She smiled, "I thought you Demacian nobles were supposed to be an example." She watched him carefully, any sign of him attempting to attack her in his drunken state and she would either be forced to defend herself or... Her eyes flick around the bar, flee.
"So tell me, how is sitting here drinking like a fool helping, hmm?" She gave him a knowing smile, tempting him to ask what she knew. If he would pick up on it in his drunken state however, she didn't know, but this was simply a game to her.
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 8, 2014 21:58:32 GMT -5
Jarvan IV watched her through bleary eyes, deep breaths holding his anger in check. His hair hung out of order around his face, and his words slurred ever so slightly. He made light of her words, though something in what she said made him calm down enough to relax the fist he'd made without thinking. His looked from her to the bottle, shaking his head. "A lecture from you is a poor joke. I'm not in a mood for laughter." He pulled his glass closer but didn't drink. "You want to talk? Talk. But no jokes."
Post by The Widowmaker on Jan 10, 2014 18:26:14 GMT -5
The Widowmaker glared at him, the predatory gleam in her eyes flashing, "It wasn't a joke, Exemplar." All humor vanishing from her face in an instant replaced by a look that would cause most men to turn and flee. She knew it wouldn't affect the drunken prince, but what she saw before herself was pathetic, a disgrace, "A slayer of dragons shouldn't be reduced to nothing more than a drunken slob because someone he grew attached to was taken." A single long pink nail tapped on the table where they sat, "You should be cleaving mountains to find her."
Evelynn then simply smiled, her body language relaxing as she took a drink, "I wonder what she's doing..."
Last Edit: Jan 10, 2014 18:27:39 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
Post by Exemplar of Demacia on Jan 11, 2014 2:17:57 GMT -5
A large hand slid slowly across the table, then snatched what passed for the collar of her shirt, pulling her face closer to his. "DO YOU THINK I WOULDN''T? I can't. A sea stands between us, and I am forbidden to cross it." He released her just as quickly, bringing his hand back to the tumbler in front of him. He chuckled, a hateful, pained sound. "You think you know pain?" He downed his drink, looking over the wicked spikes and straps of her clothing with a drunken gaze. "I'm sure you do, but not this pain."
Jarvan IV looked at her, and in his eyes there was a moment of lucidity, a temporary gap in the whiskey fog. "Do you want to know why?"
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