asgardeventide | 001

Entry tags:

001 | Video

[The feed flickers on with the clink of gold and a long stretch of skyline. For a long moment that's all it's focused on, before the feed's owner shifts and it becomes increasingly apparent that they're settled on the roof of a building, quietly observing the flow of the city underneath. There's a soft laugh, and the feed shifts to lock onto gold eyes and a wide smile.]

I'm used to new surroundings but this is very new.

[He flicks long purple hair out of his eyes and leans back against a railing, arms crossing. The feed expands and with it his smile softens and fades. He could play nice if he wanted to, but this little trip had been unexpected and he'd just returned home. For once, Sinbad can say that he's tired of traveling about. Really, it was no fun to worry his Generals if he wasn't there to see their reactions! So he tilts his head to the side and frowns.]

I'd rather like it if someone could provide me some information about where I've woken up, it's not Sindria, I know that. Nor is it any of the lands I've visited before. [A sigh and he rubs at his temples, mutters.] Honestly, I wasn't even drunk this time.

[oops, he hadn't meant to say that. It's with a sheepish smile that Sinbad flicks his gaze back to the screen, alright, he was king he could find his way out of here. Honestly, It's not like he hasn't had to do it before! But maybe he wasn't the only one to arrive here? His Generals were never far behind after all. It was worth a try, what could he lose? Some pride, and maybe some more fodder for Ja'far to tease him with but since when has that stopped anyone?]

Ja'far? Masrur? C'mon, don't tell me none of you are here, I never reach places before you.

[He ignores the fact that that happens because he more than likely gets sidetracked and ends up mugged by the side of the road, but hey, details, who needs em? He waits for a long moment and when no answer is immediately forthcoming he shuts off the feed with a sigh. Or tries to, since ultimately it ends up simply scrambling the feed, fast swatches of purple and sky and the dark tan of his hands before it goes silent and dark.]

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[ So. There's this thing {Sinbad might have heard about it}

Ja'far without a King is an unhappy slice of cake. He's moody, tense, his breathing will be flat and half the time he manages, just in time, to grind his teeth before he begins to curse the sky blue.

...maybe Asgard would welcome this, grey-sickness and all but. he is not feeling particularly helpful.

It's not that he's likely to panic as soon as Sinbad leaves his side, this has happened too often for it to be a novelty and, as much as he loathes to admit it, Sin usually comes home.

..that is what Masrur had said, at least. And now, see, isn't that bitter? To remember the words of someone who isn't here any more, not stolen away by death but by
-- really, Ja'far's words for the action of the gods, for them in general are not something one should share before the sun has set. And the moon has gone out and, yeah.

That was an added pain, more intense than well-known worries. Losing Masrur while Sinbad wasn't around is both shame and horror, something that sets his lungs aflame, as clichéd as that may be. The calm part of himself, the one he was clinging to for the children so very very desperately, maybe for himself too {but when does he ever act on his own behalf? Even when handed a mirror he's blind to the reflection}, that part had told him that Masrur could be with Sinbad now, at his side. Ja'far holds respect for Masrur, respect and understanding born by years of companionship and hours spend waiting for Sinbad in halls, and deserts, and on rooftops.

If he'd trust anyone to reach Sinbad and look after him {always without words but never without thoughts} then it would be Masrur.

Still, the rest of him {forever a bird flying drunk in panic} was only full of dark-red thoughts. Maybe Masrur had died? Or the gods had gotten a hold of him. Ja'far can trust, this is a fact most people do not see, and he knows Masrur to be strong. Under any other circumstances he'd think Masrur to have fallen asleep on the rooftop {'why does he never use the rooms I've prepared for him?!'} but the gods and the city and the entire madness of this place leave him stranded. He has no experience here, soft-shoe'd feet not clumsy but back to complete silence out of distrust and reproach. Masrur is not here, has been gone too long and the best possibility would be that he has found a way back, that the gods send him back the way they did with others before him.

The problem to this problem is, however, that he has not seen this happen yet. Therefore: his trust in Masrur struggles and falls under his distrust for everything else in this place.

And Sin, Sin should know that everything else is mainly Ja'far himself.

He hadn't thought that Sinbad would come to this city, not after Masrur had -- disappeared. This city is not theirs, the fight is not their own. He might be a busybody but he is, in no way, easy to influence when it comes to his priorities. The sickness doesn't concern him, the quest leaves him bitter, he is sure, so very sure, that the only right thing for Sinbad is to continue on his path. With six Generals even, or with seven.
That's yet another thing {is he keeping track of these? You know the answer, it is so easy to tell}: there is Ja'far losing Masrur, there is Ja'far leaving Sinbad, and there is, bitter as old juice, Ja'far being still here instead of back, a parliamentary official not managing to return to fulfil his duty when others have succeed at that.

So, 'there's a thing' is kind of a lie. There are a dozen things, all counted and memorized, that are driving him half-mad here.

And that is why the voice of Sinbad reaches him only to be ignored. For a moment, that is. For all of his worries and so much of his hatred have turned him a bit blind, a bit deaf, a bit {more} paranoid, insomuch that he hears the words, thinks them a memory, then a trick, then an illusion.
He's beginning to curse under his breath with the audio turned on {the bracelets still a mystery to an extent} before that one-and-only Sin-sense goes off-
it probably makes his teeth hurt or something ridiculous like that. And yet, that is oh so much more welcome than the nightmares that have infested his blood and bones for these past days.

Steady hands go to that bracelet, forever in the way of his weapons, and he isn't aware of what he's saying really, barely realises that Sinbad is on video {he knows that hair, so the djinns help him}, cannot turn the video function on on his side because his thoughts are not clear enough but

but, Sinbad, you should know that voice. And not like it much when the tone of it is thinned out in this manner, panic and mania melted down to an urgency that is entirely too even to be healthy.

here, here, stop. We need to breathe {except that this is a forgotten thought before it is so much as finished} ]

--Sin!! Where are you?!

[ but the situation says enough {welcome hall, the palace, the middle of this city}, now that something has broken loose in him to be aware of his surroundings again and Ja'far, hey, he has a name, turns on his heels and is already running.

No, this doesn't begin as calmly as their usual reunions do but then- who knows what Ja'far is usually up to before Sinbad appears in halls, in deserts, on rooftops?

Even though this is something easily imagined. ]

[Sinbad has heard of this thing. It’s a bit of a problem, not truly for the Adventuring King, but mostly for those left behind who have to deal with Ja’far in this state. It is not novel, it’s something that happens every time Sin wanders off on some crazy plan or some attempt at alliance. But it’s enough that when it happens, others know to avoid Ja’far and his temper (There’s a reason Sinbad drew him with horns and the ability to breathe flames, Ja’far has enough viciousness and fury when he’s reached a point of no return that his words seem almost as if they could scald.).

Masrur would be right in that. Sin usually comes home, perhaps not better for wear and perhaps he’s dragged problems with him, but for the most part he comes home healthy and hale, with a smile on his face and swagger to his step. Because he is cocky and confident in himself, enough that he will face the fury of a General gone long past worry with little in the way of self-preservation because he knows Ja’far won’t seriously harm him (Though certainly those stacks of undone paperwork are going to send him to an early death somehow).

But as easy as this for Sin to understand, the moment he hears that panicked tone to Ja’far’s voice he’s straightening out, back rim-rod straight and a frown upon his lips. Ja’far frets easily, at nearly every single thing whether it be a taunt made simply in jest or a threat hanging over their heads. But Sin knows him, knows his reactions and actions on a level that’s nearly reserved for those who are intimate. They’d been called an old married couple for several reasons, this would be among those and Sinbad doesn’t regret knowing Ja’far as much as he does. It’s how he can sift through that simple message ( “--Sin!! Where are you?!”) and know that things are not good. Ja’far is panicked a lot, yes, but this is paranoia and something reaching a level of unstableness that even Ja’far doesn’t dwell on often.

If he was being honest, Sin hadn’t even really read the letter he’d been gifted with, simply finding his way up to the top of a building as easily as if he belonged there, because he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there, but also because he held enough trust in his Generals for one of them to be here as well. Not, that he particularly wished it upon them. But as the replies filtered in, as he heard from Alibaba and Aladdin, heard of the other two children (and they were children, even though they’d been through so much and done just as much in turn.) and Judal’s call to come and play, he’d hoped near desperately that those he’d taken in under his wing hadn’t been left alone in this strange place. To hear Ja’far’s voice, therefore, had initially been a blessing, wrought heavy with the knowledge that he wasn’t wrong and that they’d been safe under the care of his oldest friend.

But the tone.

It was all wrong.

So he surges to his feet, scowls as the wind catches at clothes and hair and whips into eyes and mouth and settles on getting down from where he’d lit upon, figuring it’d be easier to find Ja’far and sooth his ruffled feathers as best as he could from the ground level. But before that, he sends a message, all order and the smooth lyric of his voice.]

The building I arrived at, I’ll wait for you.

[ And just as he read into Ja’far’s message he believes the same will be done into his. If Ja’far isn’t too far gone into the red haze of panic and the finding of a King lost within a land they’re not familiar with nor seems to dwell upon their same plane of existence. “Some kind of Dungeon”, Aladdin had said. Held captive by the gods who seemed to be not of Djinn strength but perhaps Magicians with enough power to rip people from their worlds and set them free within a land run grey with the lack of color and life. And Ja’far, oh Ja’far, had been here to deal with this on his own.

“I’ll wait for you”, he’d said, a twist on their relationship perhaps, because since when has Sin ever sat still and waited for someone to come to him? He’s the one who surges forward and forges paths and friendships before he sweeps out into the next big adventure whether it was planned or not and Ja’far, well Ja’far had always been the steady behind his swift, the one to come back to when he’d spent months upon months in the midst of an enemy empire.

But as he stands there, golden gaze shifting along the paths that lead to him, his mind whirls over the message he’d received, over the curses that had clearly not been meant to be heard, the sharp jitter as hands had fallen on the bracelet he assumes rings Ja’far’s own hand and he worries. Perhaps there were a dozen little things all counted and lined out like feathers upon a bird’s wing, but just as they are driving Ja’far mad, they send Sinbad himself into something quite like panic. But never exactly that, he’d never been one to panic in the face of anything, more likely to hiss and threaten and believe in others even when there spears of ice slick with his own blood pinning him to a wall. Even when there is a Djinn created through the body and black thoughts of one of his own’s friends and all he can do is use himself to prevent the destruction of others. Sinbad is reckless in that and he knows it, is told it often enough.

And here he stands, Reckless Sinbad, he who conquered dungeons only to land in a place he knows not. Perhaps it is fate, but at the moment he’s static, arms crossed in front of his chest and nothing but the worries of a King and Person in his thoughts. It takes a while for the familiar patter of soft-shoed feet to reach him, never as quiet as Ja’far perhaps wished, not to Sinbad who had known him for years and learned to detect the smallest wisp of the other. It has him glancing over, gaze sharp and searching for injuries or fault even from an ever closing distance.

It’s a second before he realizes that he’s moving forward to meet Ja’far halfway, body moving before his mind could will himself forward. But through it all are those dozens of little things, no longer lined up but thrown in the wind, spawned by the look in his General’s eyes and the spurned on by the ever present notion that things are not right.]