Gotta learn to live with regrets ((Open))

[NoLeader]

If ever there was a person who's very essence could be trapped inside one word, it was Dominic. He had long since come to terms with the idea, and no longer detested when people jested that his word would be, undoubtedly, regret.
Regret wore him like a bad suit. Had it not been for his cocky self perception and laid back demeanor, a person might have actually felt bad for the guy, given his obvious although ambiguous causes of stress. No one ever attempted to console him though, and it wasn't due to spite or distaste that people tended to be apprehensive in his presence. It was something about his swagger, something in the way he carried himself that spoke to the souls of all who had met him. Something about his aura let you know that no matter how bad he seemed to have it at the time, he would always, ALWAYS be better than you.




Always.





Finding solace in the warm, almost beckoning glow of the lights dotting the taverns exterior, Dom leaned against the homely wooden structure and removed a tightly rolled joint from his coat pocket. He pulled a match from his hat and struck it against the wooden framework of the pub. To his surprise, it sparked on the first try.

"Lucky strike." He flashed a smile and mumbled to a quaint faced woman walking past. She turned for a brief second, smiled, walked a few more feet, turned and smiled again, then commenced walking directly into an abruptly stopped buggy, still smiling. Chuckling, he continued smoking against the wall, stolid against the girls obvious infatuation. He remained posted for several minutes, verbally abusing anyone with the audacity to comment on his possession (and ingestion) of what was locally barred as contraband, then casually made his way into the bar.

It was time, he heralded, to drown out his regrets like oh so many sea farers in the midst of a perfect storm.

[Nymph and Dragon]

If there was one thing Twyla hated more than everything else that she loathed with whole-hearted fervor, it was the sight of a woman making a fool of herself. As much as the thought of comparing herself to a human made the nymph cringe, there was no denying the gender parallels that existed between herself and the “weaker sex” of the human race, and given that such comparisons between herself and them could not be avoided, watching them make complete idiots of themselves smacked uncomfortably close to being a bad reflection on her own dignity, a knock that Twyla was definitely not inclined to endure taking.

Twyla watched with narrowed eyes as the most recent embarrassment to the female gender walked into the side of a carriage as if she were as dumb as the swaybacked horse that was hitched to the front of it. The girl turned, rubbing her nose and smiling vacantly, her eyes fixed on the person responsible for her unrecognized humiliation. Twyla followed her line of sight and her eyes narrowed further when they landed on the smirking man at the door of the tavern who lounged at the doorway with all the self-satisfaction of a freshly-fed shark and none of its teeth. He was big, sure, but the only thing he was armed with was the self-directed adoration that was really only an effective tool against the idiot women who hung around taverns at this time of the night.

A muffled burst of laughter sounded in the nymph’s head and she turned her glare to the two foot-long serpentine dragon beside her. His tail flicked idly as he scanned the street in front of them, innocently tipping back his head to meet her gaze when she sent him an image of herself kicking him soundly in the side.

There’s no need to be violent, Twyla, the Elemental chastised mildly. What’s wrong?

Don’t play dumb, idiot, she snapped. You can keep your snide giggles to yourself.

He sent back a wave of feigned indignation, but Twyla had already turned her attention back to the man at the tavern door. She stood several yards away from the gently swinging sign above the entrance to the Peaceful Promenade, biting her tongue in thought as she watched the smug man smoke. She’d heard that a ship had come into port bearing a load of men from Corone and had been planning to go in for some late-night entertainment—drunk soldiers were always good for a laugh—but the cocky giant at the door made her reconsider. Men like him didn’t deserve to get away with treating women like garbage . . . not that they weren’t, but it certainly wasn’t because of their gender. She could see in the expression on his face that he considered himself nigh irresistible, and it made her blood boil to think that there were men who dared to think that they were alluring enough to arm themselves with just a grin.

Snake, if he’s not as big a jerk as he looks you better tell me now, she thought grimly, because I’m about to school him in the ways of Men.

When did you become the expert on the subject?

One corner of Twyla’s mouth lifted beneath the sheer material of the scarf across her face as she watched the tall man saunter into what would soon be her tavern. Like a sheep being led to the fold.

The dragon’s head tilted quizzically. I’m reading your mind and I still don’t understand you. You mean like a sheep to the slaughter?

No, dumbass . . . well, that too, she amended, making her way down the dark street to the tavern. It’s complicated. You’re stupid. Let’s leave it at that.

The Peaceful Promenade was warm and busy, the hum of conversation a steady murmur that carried out into the street as she approached with the Elemental following behind her. Her steps were light with excitement, her eyes bright with the glint of anger and challenge. She almost wished she had fangs to bear as she reached the tavern door, pulling it open and stepping eagerly inside. She felt like a wolf closing in on her prey. Where was her victim?

You’re not really going to kill him, the Elemental told her firmly.

Like I said, the metaphor’s too much for your pea-sized brain. Shut up and let me work.

Twyla strode through the tables, her purple cloak fanning behind her as she made her way to the bar with a hidden smile on her face. Killing sheep was too easy to be real entertainment, but the prospect of using the rest of the flock to bring about its death was much too delicious an opportunity to pass up.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting since before the beginning of this year (2009). Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to the Peaceful Promenade.