vatheon | [Closed] It's not a cry you can hear at night

[Closed] It's not a cry you can hear at night

Who: Sufferer, Dualscar, and Bro
Where: The Holy Bros and Dualscar hive
When: after this
What: Sufferer just found out Sola went home and needs a feeling jam/a beer
Style: I'll match

Sola is gone. Sent back home, back to his own world, where he's dead. Where he's still a replica, where he was convinced he didn't have a soul and would just be... gone. And someone is having a hard time accepting that.

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Talking honestly isn't something Bro plans to be doing much. Not about Sola, anyway. It's not so much that he thinks Sufferer can't handle the topic, it's that if they end up discussing Sola's departure too much, the conversation might whirl around to Dave's departure. Sure, they both lost family they may never see again, but that's all the more reason to not bring it up.

After stopping by the store to pick up a few six-packs, he moves straight on to the trolls' hive. He'd been debating back and forth a bit on whether he should leave Lil Cal in his sylladex or take the little guy out for some additional company, but ultimately he decides three might be a crowd. Especially when the third person is not really a person.

That's probably for the best; Sufferer might not be able to handle Cal's particular brand of comfort right now.

Sufferer is waiting on his porch when Bro shows up, the hood of his cloak pulled down low on his forehead, shadowing his face and hiding his eyes. He raises a hand in greeting though, and then twists his wrist around so that hand is making a beckoning gesture. Beer him, man.

The hood thing is a little surprising. Sufferer must really be down if he's resorting to emo hooding. Either that, or he's already hungover.

Bro recognizes the hand gesture only too well. He twists a can off one of the six-packs and tosses it to Sufferer the moment he's close enough. Because clearly anyone is capable of catching a can that's being thrown across a distance of eight feet. No problem.

This is totally emo hooding.

Sufferer manages to catch the beer can, but barely, fumbling it and nearly dropping it multiple times before it eventually settles on his lap. "Dammit!" He's not mad at Bro, just disgusted with himself: now he has to wait to open it.

Hm. In retrospect, maybe he should've made it a five feet distance. He's not giving the guy a new can, though. A failure is a failure and if it means Sufferer has to wait, he'll have to wait.

The remaining clusters of beercans under one arm, he strides over to the troll to sit down next to him, leaving a comfortable distance between the two of them. He won't be breaking the silence, either. Not until Sufferer is ready.

Sufferer glowers at the beer can for awhile, until he judges it ready to open. When he does crack it, it fizzes more than usual and streams down both his arms and onto his cloak. He doesn't care, though, bringing it to his mouth and taking a long, deep swing.

"This sucks."

"Yeah. It sucks major donkey dick." He twists a can of his own off the six-pack and opens it, eliciting a loud hissing sound. Then he sits back a bit, gaze directed straight in front of him.

"Just the way life goes, I guess. You win some, you lose some, you drink some."

"It's not right." Sufferer gestures vaguely out at the street. "Not that fairness ever played much of a part in my life, but seriously... unfair." He drinks again. "I'd rather they sent me back, if they're going to do it. I lived my life, I had my chance. Sola was just starting."

Lived his life, huh? Bro's lived his life too, but the thought of being sent home instead of someone else isn't something he'd consider. He's not noble like that, he supposes. If Vatheon's the only chance dead chumps like them will get, he's not giving it up.

"Who knows? Maybe he'll come back." That's the only consolation he can give. The only shimmer of hope in this cesspool of awful bullshit. That maybe, just maybe, people they care about will show up here again.

It's not that Sufferer relishes the thought of being dead again; it's just that Sola thought he didn't have a soul. Sufferer isn't sure about a life after death anymore, but at least he's confident about having a soul.

"Maybe." He glances over. "Dave came back. More than once."

Bro just takes a long sip from his beer, eyes still directed at a non-specific area in front of him.

"... Yeah. He did." He got to be reunited with Dave twice already, then he got to lose Dave two more times. The fact that the kid still has important shit to do back home doesn't work as much of an excuse, because time stands still while he's in Vatheon anyway. Hell, Dave could be here to hang with Bro for twenty years and then still go back home to do his important shit.

"Yeah." Sufferer is willing to drop that subject. As far as he knows, Dave does just fine with everything that's coming next for him, so he's not worried about the littlest Strider. He is worried that the biggest Strider will clam up if he keeps talking about Dave, though, so he lets the conversation die out to finish his beer.

Good. No more talking about Dave. It doesn't help that he was under the assumption Dave was dead last week, what with that ridiculous super hero curse, so he's only too willing to avoid thinking about his little bro at all.

He downs some more beer before speaking up again. "You know, we should have a good old-fashioned strife sometime. See what you're capable of."

Sufferer perks up a little at that suggestion. "Yeah? I'd like that, I think." He eyes the empty beer can in his hand and sets it down, reaching for another. "Not today, though. Some other time."

When Sufferer reaches out for another can, Bro shoves the whole six-pack towards him over the porch's surface. "Yeah, definitely some other time." He rotates his own can around between his fingers, then continues. "I sparred with the Summoner before. And that Grand Highblood guy too. I dunno if that's a good representation of how trolls fight, but so far, I'm pretty damn impressed."

"You fought the Grand Highblood?" Sufferer's opinion of Bro has just risen a few notches. There are fully grown adult trolls who have tried to fight that guy and ended up being smears on the wall. Hell, even Dualscar wasn't able to take him on, and Dualscar is plenty deadly when he wants to be!

Summoner, he assumes, was just having fun with him and Bro was in no real danger.

"I doubt I'd be a match after fighting those two. You'll probably be disappointed."

"No such thing as getting disappointed when it comes to strifing, bro." He shrugs and takes a quick sip of his beer before continuing. "Not as long as you put in the effort. It ain't about so much about skill as it is about the feel of it, you know."

Sure, skill counts. If it didn't, he wouldn't have taught Dave all sorts of tricks and kept him on his toes constantly. It's about passion for the fight, too. Strifing is like a form of art and amateurs can do it too. They've just gotta know how.

"I guess." Sufferer's interest is definitely piqued, almost in spite of himself, and he glances over at Bro. "I use staffkind. Have you ever fought anyone who used that before?"

Staffkind, and almost exclusively defensive. He relies on speed and the staff's long reach to keep himself out of danger's way. "I haven't been practicing lately. It could be fun."

Staffkind... To be honest, bladekind's pretty much the only kind Bro's actively fought before getting to Vatheon. Should be interesting to face something different again.

"Nah, staffkind's a new one, but I'm pretty sure I can still kick your butt. Better start practicin' asap, man."

Sufferer manages a sad little chuckle at that. "I'll get right on it." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. He's still sad, but Bro is doing an excellent job distracting him. "Thanks for coming over. I appreciate it."

Blunt as he is, there's a few times when Bro actually knows what he's doing in terms of helping other people. This is one of those times. "It's fine, man. Not like I had anything else planned for the afternoon."

With that, he drains his can and crumples it in his hand. Then he gets started on the second one, because hey, why wait?

Sufferer is going to wait awhile before drinking another can; his head is already swimming a little. "You seriously fought the Grand Highblood?"

"No lie." He sits back a bit more, tilting his head upwards to glance at the sky. "But I'll tell you this much, dude's one of the toughest douchebags I've ever faced."

Big, powerful and speedy? Deadly combination, right there. He can see why the grand juggalo's so notorious. Yet the Grand Highblood was still nothing compared to Bec Noir. That fucker could twist reality around him or some shit. It's like interdimensional cheating. Nobody could beat that.

"Only one of?" Sufferer shakes his head in disbelief. "Damn, Bro, who did you fight who was harder?"

With two beer's worth of alcohol singing in his veins, Sufferer doesn't realize that he may have just asked about whoever killed Bro.

Even with a can and a half of beer in his own veins, Bro manages to evade the question just fine. This is the sort of thing he doesn't even like thinking about, let alone talking about.

"You know. Final boss types of guys. I love a challenge."

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