Behold, the Power of Rum

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 07:33:00 GMT

Wherein the clarity provided by strong drink reveals the true nature of the relationship between Haytham and Lysias.

Lysias shuts the door behind the departing Surayya, and sags against it. "Oh, man. I thought I was a goner, for sure, when she came in."

Haytham gives Lysias an arch look. "A grim look, or a smile? It's hard to know which is worse."

"Even worse," Lysias winces. "It was a /sweet/ smile." He slinks back to his cushion and drops down. "She was displeased that I came back dead, and even more that she didn't know ... you know."

Haytham finds himself a cushion, sitting neatly with his glass of water. "Does she know the rest as well, now? Between your inability to stay dead and the small fur matter, you're a man full of surprises."

Lysias rubs the back of his neck, "Er, no. She doesn't." He does direct a humored half-grin Haytham's way, "Says the man who speaks with the dead and flies in through people's windows."

"Which she knows about," Haytham points serenely. "Though I try not to advertise either here in Amber. The strangest people take either part far too personally."

Lysias releases a small sigh. "I first discovered my ability to recover from death when I was knifed in an alley, and woke up, rather confused the next evening. It was similar, when I first became a fuzzball." He slants a grin, "It's not exactly something I've had much call to discuss. People don't /do/ that, where I was raised. Instead, they beat children for making up tales." He drinks from his glass, grins again, "Have you told me everything you can do? What about her, or the Vizier?"

"Maybe not everything," Haytham says. He slants a thin smile at Lysias. "No, decidedly not everything, but the important parts. They know more, but a man must have some secrets, else where does he gather his air of mystery?"

"Where, indeed?" Lysias laughs and drains his glass of its contents. Then he winks at Haytham, "Never you fear, dear Falcon. You've taken your place quite solidly among those of mystery. I can't imagine anything tha tmight shake you from that pedastal."

"One of these days I'll slip up and offer entirely concrete information in a timely manner," Haytham says, "and I'll lose all that carefully cultivated air at once. I have no idea what I'll do after such a tragedy. You can always go back to privateering, whether or not your secrets are known." (repose)

Lysias laughs at that, settling back onto his cushion. "Just smile mysteriously and claim to have been speaking for the dead."

"The dead don't actually say much that's of use," Haytham says. "That's the deep dark secret of all necromancy, in my opinion. How very prosaic most of it is. Yes, yes, dark powers and seeing beyond life, but death is actually a great deal like life, except with biology mattering less, and then eventually a door."

Lysias shrugs prosaically. "I never remember it. But the dead do seem to hold mysteries for those with no real contact to it. I doubt you're at much risk."

Haytham says languidly, "I really must ask you questions the next time you're dead. If nothing else, it'll keep me out of mischief until you're alive again."

Lysias leans forward at that, and grins. "Speaking of mischief, that means we're good to go. If we have an official task from the Priestess.." He flings an arm out, gesturing toward the sea. "I can find us a ship."

Haytham looks out towards the theoretical see. Towards a wall, in this case. "How long does it take to find a new ship? I gather they can't be ordered quite like jars of marmalade."

Lysias jumps up, "Care for something else to drink? I think I need something a bit stronger than water." Then he replies, "That would depend upon what manner of acquisition you're after. I can commandeer one, on official business. Or I could borrow one. Purchasing one would take rather more time."

"Whatever you're having, if you're willing to slide me back to the door of my room should I overindulge," Haytham says, back to mild amusement. "I suppose it remains to be seen what sort of quest we're sent on, for what kind of ship is required. I never did learn the differences between them. There are big ships, and little ships, and that's about as much as I follow."

"THere are raiding ships, battle ships, pleasure boats, and.." Lysias cracks a grin. "But you didn't mean to ask for a lecture, did you. I tend to prefer raiders. Sleek, fast, combat capable. Not suited for lengthy over the ocean voyages, but where's the fun in sailing if you don't stop and see some of what you're passing by?" He pulls out a bottle of araq, and fills two fresh glasses with the liquer, ice and a bit of water.

Haytham waves a hand in the air. "Stop, see some of what you're passing by, attack it and set it ablaze after removing all valuables?"

Lysias turns, holding out the glass, nonplussed, though his devilish humor dances in his gaze. "Only if it's boring. One can hardly return to enjoy a pleasant port if it's been razed to the ground."

Haytham sits up to take the glass. "A point well made. And thus the ports of all the nations of the Golden Circle are saved from being endlessly razed, by providing amusement to passing privateers."

"It works rather well for everyone, I would say," Lysias grins. He bows playfully, and offers the glass. "Your drink, sir."

Haytham smiles sharply as he accepts the drink. "Now that I can't picture you as. Waiter or butler. Privateer, yes, but never a butler. You'd have made an improper suggestion to the lady of the house and stabbed someone with a soup tureen before the fish course, if you ever tried."

Lysias laughs as he rises, then drops gracefully into his seat. "And been fired on the spot. But what an evening it'd have been! What grandeur and excitement! The lord of the house would find his dinner the talk of the town." He lifts his glass, drinks, and chuckles. "The real question is would the lady have taken me up on it."

"If what the local gossips say is true, and I wouldn't count on that," Haytham says, "the ladies of Amber will take up the offers of any men with most of their teeth and a recent bath. And not all of them are quite so picky about the bathing. So I would say your chances would be excellent."

"Oh ho," Lysias chuckles, "You would have placed me in the manor of an Amber noble." He scratches his chin in thought, "I'm not so certain the evening would have gone as planned, in this locale. I've never found Amberites to possess much appeal. You'd have to settle for the filching of jewels, and a stabbing, perhaps a duel or two."

"If it should ever happen, I'll be sure to come cheer you on," Haytham says. "Though by 'cheering' I mean waiting to see if you need anything reattached, or a discreet trip to the morgue, after the duels and stabbing."

"I'll be sure to slip you an invitation to any such dinner." Lysias drinks from his glass, chuckles. "Luckily for me, I'm not the servile sort. I'd rather be out on my ship, or off planning adventure. Although I really do wonder, why you think I'd murmur such improprities to the lady of the house over her husband?"

Haytham says, "When you put it that way, I can see my hypothetical is largely in error. Perhaps it's because I can't quite see you beating the indignant lady of the house over the head with the soup tureen. Maybe a gravy boat instead?"

Lysias slants a grin, "Have you /seen/ the ladies of Amber? They're quite frightening when angry, and many duel more quickly than their lords. I'd throw teacups, from a distance."

Haytham says, "The teacups here are horribly dainty." He tries his drink, almost daintily himself. "You might be better off flinging spoons and teapots."

Lysias considers this, "Dinner plates and serving platters, perhaps?"

Haytham says, "So long as you remember to keep one as a shield against returning fire."

"No ducking and dodging?" Lysias queries, quite interested.

Haytham says, "If they're merely throwing spoons, ducking will suffice. If they begin throwing soup? You'll want more cover. And let's not even begin to speak about the jellies."

"Ahh, the jellies," Lysias nods in agreement. "A lady once threw a pot of mint jelly my way. Terrible stuff, that. I believe that jacket is still stained green."

Haytham sips his drink, and asks in idle curiosity, "Was that one of the ladies who followed it up with stabbing, or with a passionate embrace?"

Lysias rests a hand upon his heart, and laughs. "Such little credit you give me, I'm crushed. Must it be one or the other?" He winks, and leans forward to stage whisper, "I'd just unknowingly walked off with her date."

"Ah," Haytham says wisely. "Jelly, then stabbing."

"The gentleman came to my defense, of course." Lysias sips from his drink, "WHich turned her wrath on him. I do believe they're wedded, now."

Haytham says, "A story with a happy ending, and no stabbing. I may never yet understand romance."

"Well, if you want stabbings," Lysias smiles. "I've had a romance or two end with the sharp end of a knife between my ribs." He chews on a piece of ice, slowly, "But you never speak of your romances."

Haytham swirls his drink about. "I try not to tell boring stories."

Lysias grins, and reaches out to clap Haytham on the back, "Then you're clearly not meeting the right wom-." He stops abruptly, laughs, and peers at Haytham through lidded eyes, "You almost got me. But it's alright, no need to say more."

Haytham's smile is thin and skewed. "It would be a very /short/ story, too."

Lysias crunches the ice cube. "I don't know whether to envy or pity you." He slants another grin, winks, "I'm always here for you, man."

Haytham chuckles dryly. "I"ll remember that, if I find myself suffering from a sudden need for comfort."

"Comforting, that's me," Lysias grins. "Comforting, infuriating, shameless, I'm a dictionary of adjectives."

Haytham says, "Some day all the people you've known will start comparing notes, and compile a thorough list. And then what will you do?"

Lysias sips more from his drink. "I would die of shame, but we've already established I've got none. I'd have to do something completely unexpected, and....... blush?"

Haytham raises an eyebrow. "You? Never. I cannot imagine it." (repose)

"And thus it'd be completely unexpected," Lysias grins, delighted.

Haytham says, "Truly, your logic is impeccable."

Lysias peers at Haytham, lips twitching at the corners, "Why do I always feel as though you're laughing, when your tone sounds just like that."

Haytham says gravely, "I have no idea," and has a sip of his drink. "It must be that air of mystery."

Celeste comes here from the direction of the Grand Entrance - Alhambran Embassy.

Celeste has arrived.

Lysias points at Haytham, grinning, "Which you cultivate so well. I'm sure you're laughing, but.. ok, I'm really not quite sure at all. I'd hate to see you angry."

"I try not to get angry," Haytham says. "It never goes well in my family."

Lysias peers at Haytham's glass, and lifts the bottle. Presumably to refill his, although it's left held on display for the moment, "Is drunk allowed?"

Celeste taps lightly on the door, bottle of something in the crook of her arm.

Haytham says, "Oh, yes. We never do anything more than ordinarily horrible while drunk."

Lysias cocks his head at the door, "I'm popular tonight." He chuckles, sets the bottle down, and rises to open it. His room is what one might expect, charts and burlesque prints are tacked to the walls, there are knicknacks and keepsakes, a liquer cabinet, and Alhambran-styled cushions to serve as seating. "Ahhh, it's a Dragon, come to brave the Sea Dog's den." He grins, seemingly quite entertained by this. "Do come in and join us."

Celeste says, "Are you sure it's not the mud puppy's den?" She steps in, "I'm not intruding, am I? Hello, Hayhtham."

Haytham waves with his glass, ice cubes clinking within. "Far be it from me to defend this man's sacred chambers and honor against incursions."

Lysias shuts the door behind Celeste, and smiles. "I was attempting to get Haytham drunk. And rather failing, but there is always hope." He eyes the bottle under Celeste's arm, and grins. "Have you come to ply me with booze?"

Celeste says, "Depends. What happens if I say yes?"

Haytham says, "I suspect that he will entirely give in to temptation, but we may await his definitive answer on that."

Lysias scratches his chin thoughtfully, "I'd have to decide how much of a struggle to give you. I'm not certain I could hold out." He grins lopsidedly, "But I'll never go down without a fight!"

Celeste's eyes narrow suddenly and there's a suddenly very predatory look that has nothing to do with seduction as she flashes a grin, "Really?' she shoves the bottle at him and saunters in, "How are you, Haytham?"

"Not drunk yet," Haytham says, "though recently acquired knowledge tells me there's a fiendish plot out to change this situation. You have delivered anyone unconscious to my doorstep yet, so I suppose it could be better."

Lysias oofs, catching the bottle. He glances at the label, then follows Celeste back in.

Celeste's brought in a very fine minosian rum, from the palace's private stock, "She peers at Haytham, that didn't make much sense, you sure you're not drunk?"

Haytham says, "Quite."

"Now we're in the money," Lysias grins quite broadly. "I wonder if it would mix well." A pause, he reflects, "It looks to fine to ruin with experiments. Rum it is! Who wants rum?"

Celeste says, "Me, of course, though I hate to tell you I don't get drunk."

Haytham says, "In that case I had better try the rum, to make up for the lack of overall drunkenness in the room."

Lysias throws open the liquer cabinet, and pulls out three glasses. "It's probably true," he sighs mournfully to Haytham. "Given how long the lady can hold her breath, she's probably immune to a good buzz. It's up to us!"

Celeste says, "I learned a new trick as well." she grins crookedly, "I no longer need sleep."

Haytham says, "No sleep, nothing from drinking. What do you do for fun, Lady Dragon?"

"I was just about to wonder," Lysias hands out the rum. "My life would lose all meaning, if those pleasures were lost."

Celeste says, "I could answer that, but I'm too much the lady. And since when is sleeping 'fun'?"

Lysias grins, and somehow manages to drop onto his cushion without spilling a drop of drink. "Sleeping is always fun, especially with the right company."

Haytham raises an eyebrow to Lysias. "And here I was wrong all along in thinking that you did more than sleep with the company you brought home."

"A gentleman never tells," Lysias assures Haytham. "And neither do I."

Celeste lifts an eyebrow and eyes the pair of them, "This is the first time I've been here." She pouts, "You're calling me a stick in the mud."

"Not at all," Haytham says. "Merely implying it."

Lysias waves his glass toward one of the cushions, and grins up at Celeste, "Have a seat, enjoy, take a load off. I don't know you nearly well enough for any names, aside from beautiful and frightening." He says in a stage whisper to Haytham, "She can shrug off being hit by a wooden beam large enough to serve as a bowsprit."

Celeste laughs at Haytham and mutters, "Well, shall I sing a song, do a dance? Entertain you until I am no long vanilla in your eyes?" she raspberries at Haytham, "And hush, you. It left a big ol bruise.

Haytham leans back on his elbows. "No, I require very little entertainment. Lysias here could tell you extremely dull stories about the lack of excitement in my life."

Lysias grins. "It's true!" he declares, wicked humor dancing behind his smile. "He lives his life vicariously through me. Unless one discounts that time he single-handedly defeated a shipful of pirates. Or the time he drove a pack of wild jackals into flight. Or the time he cut the head from that gargoyle clean off its shoulders with a single blow. Or the time he... Yup.. dreadfully boring. Bores me to tears, he does."

Haytham says, "Really, Lysias. You know full well the gargoyle's head was going to fall off the next time anyone happened to lay a hand on it. The neck was rotted clean through."

Celeste peers at the pair of them "Y'all both nutters, aren't you? So I'm boring, Haytham's boring, Lyias-entertain us." she winks playfuly.

Lysias grins at Haytham. "Excuses, excuses. Did the head not fly off?" He drains his glass of rum, and reaches for the bottle to pour another glass. Celeste is given another one of his broad grins, "Stories or live performances? I'm shameless, and might be convinced to provide either."

Haytham says, "If you take out the skirt with the bells on the hem, I may need more rum."

Celeste lifts an eyebrow and wonders to Haytham, "Any suggestions before it comes to belly dancing?"

Lysias shrugs expansively to Haytham, still grinning. "What could I do? You know he'd have killed us if I hadn't put it on."

Haytham says confidentially to Celeste, "He's just trying to cover up the fact that he enjoys making chiming sounds wherever he walks." He takes a small sip from his glass, and suggests, "You could take your shirt off again. It worked so well for the two of you the last time I saw you."

Celeste says, "I could, but somehow I fail to see how the two of you staring at my breasts would amuse /me/."

Haytham says, "We could make Lysias take off his shirt instead. Turnabout is fair play."

Lysias looks down at his chest, and accuses Haytham with a laugh in his voice, "You just want to plot out likely places for that tattoo." He waggles a finger, "I'm on to you, no fooling me."

Celeste says, "Tattoo?"

Celeste says, "What tatoo could be so bad you'd have to sneak it on him?"

Haytham says, "The one directing the return of his body to the embassy, if found lying in a ditch somewhere."

Haytham says, "I can't understand why he'd object. It's so practical."

Lysias heaves a grand sigh, and laments with full dramatic grandeur to Celeste, "Now you see the truth. He doesn't love me, he just wants my body. What's a boy to do."

Celeste says, "I could answer but it'd be crude." she admits with amusement, "Property of Haytham. I'm not asking where you would put that."

Haytham says, "Oh, he's not my property. I only claim his inevitable corpse in the name of Alhambra. I was thinking along his back, where it would be seen if he were bobbing around in the water."

Celeste says, "He would sink first, wouldn't rise until bacteria caused his body to bloat with excess gas." She smirks "the things one learns in medschool."

"By all means," Lysias grins, waving his glass. "Be crude."

Haytham waves his arm in a way that might be a flourished bow if he weren't leaning back on an elbow. "Oh, never. I only speak of corpses in the most refined terms. Lady Dragon, I don't suppose you're familiar with embalming techniques?"

Celeste says, "Well, I'm not a mortician but on occasion I'm required to do so when the bodies start stacking up. I...typically avoid wasting my time on the dead. That's feldane's cup of tea."

"Ooh," Lysias refills his glass. "Shoptalk."

Haytham says, "I meant to ask you how you handled the eyes, given they shrink so quickly as all that fluid dries up. But it's the kind of thing that isn't as important to people here in Amber, it seems."

Celeste says, "You remove the eyes and stuff them with cotton or sawdust and sew them shut. Are you a morgue worker?"

Haytham says, "I usually prefer pearl onions, myself. I suppose that one's term for my profession."

"What," Lysias says, "Not glass?"

Celeste says, "Why bother with glass if you're sewing the eyes shut anyway?"

Haytham says to Lysias in mild censure, "You can't bury people with glass eyes. It's not proper." He gives his glass a mildly surprised look, upon discovering it's finally empty. "It's just not real embalming if you do everything in a slipshod manner and assume that the wrappings will cover it. It's an art."

Lysias rather helpfully fills Haytham's glass.

Celeste says, "Yeah, well, I'm a physician not an artist. My job is to keep folks alive. After they die, it's no longer my problem. Most of the time."

Haytham says, "I do nothing whatsoever--thank you, Lysias--for keeping people alive, but dealing with the dead is entirely my problem. It only goes to show there's someone for everything."

Celeste wrinkles her nose, "And what's brought you to Amber then?"

Haytham says, "No one dead. So far."

Lysias says blithely, "I was assigned here, and he just can't bear living without me."

Celeste says, "You two make a cute couple."

Celeste smirks.

Haytham raises an eyebrow. "Lysias, what have you been telling this Dragon?"

Lysias clutches his stomach, and his shoulders shake as he just about collapses into laughter. "Haven't you been listening? You've been right here for the entirety of the discussion."

Celeste Grins impishly, "As to your comment about him only wanting you for your body, my only suggestion would be: be the first one to the lube." she shrugs, "See? crass."

Haytham says, "Lady Dragon, I have not had nearly enough to drink for that to become an issue."

Lysias gasps for breath, and laughs even harder.

Celeste chuckles softly, "He's not a hard one to amuse, is he, Haytham?"

Haytham tries his new drink cautiously. "And here I thought I was naturally entertaining."

Lysias manages to break in enough breaths that he doesn't suffocate, and sits up a bit straighter, though further laughs do threaten to continue to escape his lips. "It's one of my many irrefutable charms."

Celeste says, "Irrefutable." she agrees with a drawl. She rises and stretches, "I should return to office. I've been most lax, but thought I'd drop the bottle off on my way home.""

Lysias grins, and stands as well. "And a most appreciated gift it is. Thank you ever so much for dropping by, it was lovely to see you."

Haytham lifts his glass towards Celeste. "It is always interesting to be in your company."

Celeste lifts an eyebrow and comments dryly with a grin, "yours as well. Fare thee well, you two." and with that she slips out.

Celeste goes home.

Celeste has left.

Haytham eyes Lysias, after Celeste has gone. And does not say anything.

The corners of Lysias' mouth twitch. "More rum?"

Haytham shakes his glass to show it's barely a third emptied. "It usually takes longer that for women to start assuming strange things about my sexual practices."

Lysias struggles, mostly successfully, to avoid collapsing into laughter again. "Shouldn't you be pleased?" Humor stains his voice rich and velvet. "She put me on the bottom."

Haytham drinks more rum, a little more quickly than before. "Oh, now it's all about theoretical positioning. Truly, you do wonders for my reputation."

"Mine's in shambles," Lysias seems more amused by this than anything else. "Life's more fun that way."

Haytham concedes, "It may liven things up. And it isn't as if I gather most information while in this form anyway."

"May?" Lysias is aghast, "May? I've failed so badly at providing entertainment that it's may?" He collapses into a dramatic pose, as though he were a corpse. "You kill me. May. I'm done for."

Haytham starts climbing to his feet. "Oh, good. Let me go get my instruments before you come back to life."

Lysias makes a grand show of twitching in death throes. "There goes my brain. Whatever shall I do."

Haytham makes an informative gesture. "Usually we draw it out through your nose with a hook, and put it in a jar. Do you have any preferences on decorations?" The gesture sloshes rum in his glass, and he gives the drink a stern look, then sits back down again carefully.

Lysias gives this matter a moment of almost grave thought. "I've always been partial to starfish." THen he brightens, and grins, "How about a wolf? Wolves are good."

Haytham says, "I'll get the urn painted up right away."

Haytham has a sip. "Just in case."

Lysias eyes Haytham, grinning. "You're nearly salivating at the thought."

Haytham looks innocently back to Lysias. "Never. I try not to eat around corpses."

Lysias chuckles. "Probably wise." He sits up, settles comfortably into his cushion, and just sprawls. "Never know when one might get up and try for a bite."

Haytham says, "To date, that's only happened..." He stops, lips moving silently as he counts. "...well. It's a low percentage."

Lysias cocks his head, gazes curiously. "I'm not the only one?"

Haytham says, "Most of the ones that have tried to bite me were not, precisely, alive."

"Ah," says Lysias. "A list which precludes me." He grins, "Although I could try to bite you if you insist."

Haytham says, "Oh, I'm not nearly drunk enough for that."

Lysias smiles. "I'm not cad enough to take advantage of someone with drink. I shall have to find a way to survive without."

Haytham arches a look. "You are the resourceful sort, aren't you?"

"I do try," Lysias chuckles, drinking.

Dream a Little Dream of Me...

Tue, 26 Aug 2008 03:18:30 GMT

It's evening, and the seas are calm. The ship is the Tempest Rose, but..it isn't. Instead of the indigo sails, these sails appear to be the color of the sunset, causing the ship to blend in with the sky. Callisto's seated on the rail, legs dangling over the edge as though she were about to jump, but she seems to be watching the horizon instead.

Lysias comes strolling out of the captain's quarters. His walk is the easy walk of a man well used to the sea, and a ship's movements. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it," he grins. "Reminds me of the time we first met."

In the manner of dreams, she doesn't show any surprise at the oddness of his presense on the ship, "Yeah...It is." She responds, glancing over, "I remember you and my brother were playing cards."

"Your brother was cheating," Lysias chuckles. "But it's just as well, cause so was I." He comes up beside her, and settles against the rail himself. He carries a bottle of rum, and takes a drink, "Want some?"

"We all cheat..it's part of being who and what we are." Callisto replies, reaching over for the bottle, "I can't even remember who won...Did anyone win?"

Lysias looks up at the sky, tracing the place where the sails seem to melt against the clouds. He slants another of his characteristic grins, "Oh, he did. You came out around then, and stole my attention from the game. I think he fleeced a month's worth of my plunder."

Callisto snickers faintly, "I'm sure that you more then made up for it the next.. run." She takes another swig from the bottle before handing it back, "It was a good vacation.."

"We parted ways soon after," Lysias waves his hand vaguely. "I went my wa, and he his." He downs his own long swig, grins, and wipes the clinging liquid from his mouth with the back of his hand, "You know how it is. The tides can change so swiftly."

"Oh..yes. I know." Callisto responds, moving to slide back off the railing, "I know exactly how the tides can change...and swiftly at that."

Lysias turns to face her as she leaves, resting his back against the railing. His lips curve upward at one corner, "Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret us?" Callisto asks, then shakes her head, "Nah. Never regret. Live life to the fullest."

Lysias tosses the bottle. As it shatters on the deck, spraying rum, blood begins welling from his side. A stab wound? "You know that's not what I mean."

Callisto frowns, eyes dropping to the welling of the blood. She takes a step back, eyes fixed on the wound, "You'd have done the same thing..."

"It's possible," Lysias continues smiling. "I was a pirate." He pushes off the railing, taking a step toward her, "But that is neither here nor there, is it? Is this really the last thing you wanted to have said to me?"

"Was?" Callisto asks, stepping back once more, holding her hands up as though to ward him off, "You were boarding the Apple...we had to protect the ship...it wasn't personal."

"Tsk, tsk," Lysias lifts a hand, and shakes his index finger from side to side, chiding almost playfully. His lips curve, expression matching that playful motion, "You didn't answer the question."

"No..no I don't want those to be the last words." Callisto responds, a faint tone of desperation in the words. Usually, she's so calm. Collected. Even cocky. Not now.

Lysias begins walking, toward her; but each step seems to sap his energy, each move has him beginning to sink down, as though he were moving through a swamp rather than across a ship. "But that was what you did," Lysias almost murmurs. "That's my last memory of you, the pain of your dagger, plunging into my side."

Callisto winces, taking a step back, then a half step forward, "I didn't mean it.." She responds, guilt washing over her face, hands reaching out, but stopping short of grabbing him, "I..didn't mean it.."

Lysias laughs softly, as he sinks down further. The ocean below the ship begins staining red, a stain that slowly spreads outward. "It's a little too late for that, isn't it?"

Callisto blinks, then throws herself down towards the spot he's sinking into, trying to drag him back out, "Nonono..Wait!"

But Lysias is gone, there is nothing to grab but the broken shards of the forgotten bottle.

lysias_rta

Behold, the Power of Rum

Dream a Little Dream of Me...