The Midnight Sun

Davous woke.

Well, that is what he later deduced had happened. In reality, he slowly and painfully regained consciousness on a bed, and his eyes refused to open. That's okay, he thought. I'll be damned if I feel like seeing sunlight right now. It's right near ungodly, how real sunlight hurts your eyes. I'll be damned. Ha ha. I already am. I deal in demons and zombies. Ha ha.


Oh. And his whole body ached. All of it. Oh, his head. And limbs. And KIDNEYS. Davous didn't even remember he had a spleen.

He groggily rose to his feet. How they hurt. He shuffled over to the stairs. Well. Time to get a drink and a dosage. Davous took the first step in his descent to the bar.

And tumbled the rest of the way.

Dammit.


Davous staggered on to the bar and fell at the bar. "Give me something, please. Something that won't turn me into a ghost or bind me to a million demons or condemn my soul to Purgatory for a million years. Just a good, simple drink that's good for the body."

Alden glances at the bottles lining the walls the though of imbibing anything that could affect his brain chemistry, sending a visible shiver down his spine. He masks his fear and revulsion quickly and smiles at the bartender.

"I'll just take water please. My name is Alden by the way, what is yours?"

Kevin is not visibly disturbed by Alden's reaction, and places a tall glass of cold water in front of him. "Nice to meet you, Alden. Name's Kevin." He extends his hand towards the other man.

Alden shakes Kevins hand like everything Alden does he does this vigorously.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A boy with straight black hair, who seemed no older than twelve walked into The Midnight Sun. He wore a simple garb, a light grey jerkin and black breeches which ended halfway down his shins. Over all of this he wore a black cloak which completely enveloped his form. On his feet he wore a pair of black leather boots which reached up far enough from him to tuck his breeches into them. He was completely spotless from head to toe, with not a speck of dirt tainting the black cloak, so clean in fact it seemed almost unnatural. His movements were fluid, calculated, as he sauntered in, sliding the hood off his head as he entered, revealing his black hair and youthful face, which was also untouched by dirt or any other imperfection. The boy seemed to have an aura of solemnity that seemed so strong it permeated the air around him. Dark brown eyes that almost black would slide across the room taking in every face, every detail hungrily, before moving to take a seat. 

The other patrons did not seem to notice his presence immediately, and instead the din continued on, the sound of loud conversation and clank of glasses ever constant. This solace did not last long however as soon they noticed the boy's apparent age, a particularly rowdy group of patrons, perhaps already thoroughly intoxicated began to to shout crude jokes to the boy who sat alone at a table near them, as well as just seeking to disturb him. "Who leh dis green boy 'n here?" he slurred, "You, boy. Was wrong with ye? No other place to go, I bet yer have some sob story ta tell us now to get are money, same as every other street rat." By now the loud ranting of the drunken man had attracted more attention from nearby patrons who watched with mild interest as the man staggered over, obviously up to no good.

Still the black hair boy stared at the man, his dark eyes made him look almost bored with the situation. As the man stood over him, the boy could smell the alcohol in his breath as well as the sour scent of sweat. It seemed the man sweat out as much as he took in, giving him a rather rancid smell. "Well? Get ya ratty ass out o' here, no one will give ye coin here and we don't need no rats scurrying about." he stood over the boy, perhaps to intimidate him into moving, but he sat still, staring up at the man, whom was almost twice his size. Almost indiscernible at first but soon growing more apparent, a smile formed on the boy's lips bearing pure white teeth, almost as if he was amused by the man. This only seemed to infuriate him.

"Ya think this is funny? Well I'll show y-" the man had begun to say as he reached to wrench him up out of his seat by his jerkin before he was cut off. His hand brushed lightly on the front of the boy's shirt before a blank, horrified look washed over his face before he collapsed in a heap at the boy's feet un-moving. The boy looked down at the now motionless body, the previous smile now having disappeared, he seemed to take a rather disinterested demeanor again as he turned around in his chair, forgetting about the man collapsed on the floor as a couple of patrons whom had been with him tried slapping him awake to no avail before carrying him away. A few of them glanced nervously at the boy as they did so but did not bother him again. Any who followed the patrons to find out about the condition of the man would find that he was dead, the life snuffed out of him as easily as a drunk might pass out. 

What queer creatures these are, he thought to himself mildly as he waited for a waitress to serve him.

The boy would sit silently at his table as he waited, mulling over the menu almost casually. It was almost as if the scene that had happened minutes before had already left his mind, a simple action to be forgotten much like one might hang their cloak by the door as they walked in. As the waitress approached, he would set his menu down neatly on the table and meet her bright eyes with his own dark brown ones before smiling lightly. Much like humans, these elves, they respond in much the same manner as humans to certain social behaviors. 

The boy spoke easily, in a warm voice, "My compliments to the owner and its employees, this is a fine establishment you folk run, although some of its patrons seem to leave a little more to be desired." He would give a slight chuckle. Humor, they call it, another effective technique. He waved his hands in a gesture as if to say 'moving on.'

"Anyways, I won't waste your time with any of my rambling, I assume you came to take my order. I will have a Heartbreak, it says the first one is on the house. Along with that, I will try the 'Tainted Hunger', seems intriguing enough, the menu said to inquire further about the price however." With his order completed he would wait patiently to hear the price of this 'tainted hunger' and await his Heartbreak. Such an odd name for a drink, unprecedented, along with many other things about this place, he thought. The boy's eyes would flit towards the floorboards beneath him as if to peer through them to what lay below, only for a moment.

The waitress catches the eye of one of the bartenders, and waves a series of gestures at him. She turns back to the boy. "The Tainted Hunger's price varies from day to day, depending on the price of the ingredients. The exact bill will be brought with your meal, but should cost around 1 Eclipse."

"I'll put in the order for you!"

She curtsies again, and bounces off to the kitchen.

Minutes later, she returns, bearing a glass of ruby red liquid and a plate that looks like something from a gourmand's dreams. The centerpiece is a thick slab of well-marbled meat, seared on the outside and covered with a deep burgundy glaze. When cut into, a perfectly-cooked cool red center would greet the eye, gently oozing blood. Plump, rich, red tomatoes adorn the plate. The delectable juices would overflow the mouth and run down the chin as one chews.

The meal is satisfying and filling, yet, somehow, leaves the consumer strangely hungry.

Tucked under the edge of the plate, a bill proclaims the price of his meal is 50 Suns.

Alden begins the process of devouring his sandwich thus marking the longest period of silence Sail would have had since meeting him. It is only interrupted about mid way through when he says to Sails.

"Are you sure you're not hungry because this is amazing."

Once he is finished he lets out a satisfied sigh then turn to Sails finally registering his question. Alden thinks on the idea for a few minutes before responding slowly.

"I never have much thought to the idea honestly. The only time souls have ever come up for me was when people accused me of being soulless."

He chews on the thought for a few more minutes.

"I guess that makes sense most people cannot see, use, or even know for certain if they have a soul. I suppose you have a reason for bring this up Sails?"

Alden thinks about the proposition it was certainly an intriguing one. Sell his soul to Sail and in exchange he would get things? That was an awfully vague offer. Alden considers the magic he can see on Sail and decides that Sails things probably listed anything Alden could think to name. Though maybe not everything he could think of naming. Alden was could think of some pretty stupid stuff that might stump Sail though it might be a bit rude to do so.

Alden realizes he is getting off topic and he should answer Sails question. It was at its root a very simple one and he begins to think about it logically. Was there anything he currently wanted that he would be willing to sell his soul for? Currently the only things Alden wanted were a bar of soap, and a pair of shears. Alden wasn't sure of the market value of souls or the items he needed but he was fairly certain that it would be a bad trade for him. Alden was also reasonable certain that his soul was more important than Sail would lead him to believe. Most religions seemed to make a big deal about souls, saving them, damning them, cleansing them whatever. After considering all of this Alden realizes there was nothing he wanted that he believed to be worth his soul and as such he had an answer.

"Sorry Sail off the top of my head I can't think of anything that I would sell my soul for. I only need two things right now and neither strike me as being very soul selling worthy."

He says this with a smile and he briefly considers giving the shape a consolatory pat on the back but decides against it.