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Rejection or reconciliation? [Vincent D'Ordyn]

50th of Vhalar 716

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Timestamp: 50th of Vhalar, 716 - 22nd Break
Location: The Bronze Boar

By Ilaren, she needed a drink.

When she had accepted the job as a temporary server at The Bronze Boar, she had done it for the nel. The request promised fifteen gold - a sizeable sum - to anyone who could fill in as a server during the Annual Beer Festival. Though she had never served beer before, Sabine had frequented plenty of taverns in her short lifetime and considered herself something of an expert. It seemed only natural for her to accept the role, especially since she had yet to find a full-time job in the city.

And really, the first break had gone by without a hitch. She’d taken orders, cleared tables, and only got into a single argument with a patron - which, arguably, was his fault for moving just as she was about to set down his beer.

So, all things considered, she’d been doing well.

Until she noticed Vincent.

She had spotted him by the door just ten bits earlier, and suddenly the corset she’d been forced to wear (“It’ll make you look like you have a chest, love”) felt tighter. Her mouth felt dry, her hands were clammy, and her mind had completely forgotten how to form sentences.

“Miss? Hello?”

Had he been there the entire time, just standing by the door and surveying the room like some sort of creep?

“Uh, excuse me, miss?”

No. This was bullshit. He didn’t get to show up and waltz back into her life like he’d done nothing wrong. He didn’t get to make her feel this way, not after everything he’d put her through.

Sabine grabbed a half-empty mug from a neighbouring table and downed the remaining ale.

“Hey!”

Sabine ignored the displeased patrons and, instead, straightened her shoulders, smoothed her skirt, and set her eyes on the man who had plagued her thoughts since she’d first seen him on the Docks just seven trials earlier.

If he thought he could just… just stalk her until she forgave him, he had another thing coming.

She narrowed her eyes and shoved her way across the crowded tavern floor until she reached his side. “Vincent.” Sabine crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and shot him the dirtiest look she could muster. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Last edited by Sabine on Wed Jan 11, 2017 2:38 am, edited 3 times in total. word count: 399
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Vincent D'Ordyn
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Vincent had spent the better part of a break standing at the door to the Bronze Boar, a local tavern in the Earth Quarter, watching the patrons and helping those who had had too much to drink find their way out of the tavern. Though Vincent hadn't paid any particular attention to any of the servers while he had been there. That was until one of them appeared in front of him and demanded his attention.

Turning to the woman his eyes nearly popped out of his head and his mouth went dry. "S..Sabine..." Vincent stammered as she demanded to know why he was here. "I... Um.. I" Vincent couldn't seem to think straight let alone talk. Thankfully the other bouncer, a bald giant of a man spoke up.

"I got him a job here as a bouncer." Bennett replied, the large man looking over at Sabine. "Ah, it's the girl from Lowtown. Nice top." Bennett commented over Vincent and gave Sabine a wink. "I ran into a few trials ago, and he mentioned he was in the need of some nel, so I helped him get a job here."

Vincent gave Bennett a sidelong glance before turning back to Sabine. "Sabine, can we talk?" Vincent began but was cut off soon after by one of the patrons approaching and grabbing Sabine's shoulder to turn her towards him.

"You owe me a drink!" The man growled.



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She had to hand it to him: Vincent was a good actor. He certainly played the role of “innocent bouncer” better than she had expected. Between the surprised eyebrow raise and the stammer, she almost believed that he hadn’t known she was here.

Almost.

But before she could call him out, his ally from the Rynmere civil war took over the conversation. Sabine narrowed her eyes at Bennett as he commented on her top.

“Nice hair,” she replied, and stared pointedly at his bald head. She listened impatiently as he explained why Vincent was at the tavern and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from talking over him in her desire to yell at her former friend.

Except Vincent got the words out first.

Her eye twitched and heat rose to her cheeks. “Talk?” she repeated, ignoring the patron who had grabbed her shoulder. She struggled out of the man’s grip and turned back to Vincent. “What exactly do you want to talk about? The way you betrayed me? The fact that you’re a complete bastard? Why don’t we talk about how you can shove your explanation up your-”

“I said, you owe me a drink, woman." The man cut in again and gripped her arm more forcefully.

She winced and broke eye contact with Vincent to deal with the persistent newcomer. “Look, I promise I needed it more than you did-”

“I don’t give a shit why you needed it. Get me a damn drink!”

“Sir-”

Noise erupted from the back of the tavern as a pair of women barreled into a table and sent glasses and chairs crashing to the floor. A crowd immediately formed a circle around them as their fists flew at each other in drunken confusion.

“Oi!” The tavern’s owner, a middle-aged ithecal, shouted at Vincent and Bennett from behind the bar. “We could use your muscle over here, boys!”
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Vincent winced as Sabine lit into him. Unleashing a tirade of venom coated words at his askance to talk. Though Vincent just stood there and took it, because she wasn't wrong. Vincent had betrayed her, and everything they had made together over the past few season. He had done it to protect her, but that was a lie. He had done it to protect him from loosing her, but he had anyways. At least she was alive.

As the patron that had approached Sabine about his drink bits before got a bit more forceful with her, Vincent interceded. Quickly breaking the man's grip with a sharp blow to his wrist before pushing him back a step. "Look, I don't know what the lady did, but..." Vincent began, reaching into a small pouch at his waist, "you know you can't touch the servers. This should cover your drinks for awhile, but remember. Don't touch any of the workers again, or we'll toss you." As he finished, he pushed a single gold nel into the man's hand and waited for him to leave.

Turning back to Sabine, he could already see her starting to wind herself up for another explosion. "I didn't do that for your sake. You're working her, for someone else. As am I, we both represent this establishment, and it reflects badly on the Bronze Boar if we don't do our jobs well." Before Vincent could say more though, Daveth, the owner of the called out to Vincent and Bennett, pointing out two women that had just begun a brawl in the bar. With a sigh, Vincent looked back at Sabine and with a small frown said "Duty calls." Looking at Bennett he nodded in the women's direction. "Shall we." With that he left Sabine standing there fuming, and continued on, despite what she said to his back.

Before following after Vincent, Bennett looked down at the ball of fury and venom that was Sabine. "Women love the hair, just so you know." He commented before following after Vincent. "That one's pretty, but too much fire. She'll burn any man who gets to close. You should find yourself someone a bit less..." Bennett began as he fell into step beside Vincent, "Mad." He finished the statement with a look back at Sabine.

"It's not like that, Bennett." Vincent said with heavy sigh. "We were just friends, and she has every right to be mad at me. I did betray her, and left her on that boat alone." He continued, as the two finally reached the women. Vincent moved towards one of the women, while Bennett moved to intercept the other. After a brief struggle, made short due to the women's drunken state, Vincent began walking the woman towards the front door.

"Wrong way, V, this way." Bennett called out nodding in the direction of a stairway that led to the second floor of the bar the bar. With nothing more than a raised eyebrow, Vincent followed the larger man. "For what it's worth V, I think you did the right thing. You told me what Triedhart was like. Hell, you said you nearly died their yourself. You most likely saved her life by doing what you did. However distasteful it may have been." Bennett said, continuing their conversation.

As they neared the stairs, Vincent began to hear cheering from the second floor. He hadn't noticed it before over the din of the bar, but whatever was going on sounded like there were a decent amount of people enjoying it. Following Bennett up the stairs, the noise grew as the climbed higher. Cheers, taunts, and boos all came from a larger crowd of people encircling a enclosed ring in the middle of the second floor. Looking askance over at Bennett, the bald giant simply smiled down at Vincent.

Not long after they walked up, the fight in the middle of the circle ended with one of the men flat on his back looking up at the ceiling and laughing softly. "These two have next." Bennett boomed, shoving the woman he held towards the ring, then motioned for Vincent to do the same. Vincent let the woman go and she followed after the other woman, without the need of a shove.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Vincent asked as the woman continued where they had left off downstairs.

"Aye, they'll have this spat, get over whatever it was that started it and be right as rain with each other by tomorrow, it's how we do it here in Rharne." Bennett answered giving Vincent a rough pat on the back. "You should step into the ring some time. Might help you clear your head."

"I'm not sure I'll ever understand you people." Vincent replied as he watched the two women go at it for a moment. When Bennett's larger hand met his back he was forced to take a small step forward from the strength of the slap. With a last glance at the ring Vincent turned back towards the stairs. "Maybe after our shift." Vincent answered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the night went by as Vincent had expected. A few more drunks caused a stir here or there. A few fists thrown, some beer spilled, and curses thrown, but all and all fairly mundane. Though during those breaks, Vincent tried his best to keep a distance between him and Sabine. Both for her sake, and his. The last thing they needed was to make a scene in the middle of the tavern.

When Vincent was finally relieved of his duties, he found himself on the Bronze Boar's second floor, watching the fights from the crowd. At first he was content to simply spectate, but eventually he stepped into the empty ring. "I will accept any challengers." Vincent said to the crowd. At first the crowd simply stared at him. He was a stranger, never been seen here before, never fought here before. When no one stepped forward at first Vincent deflated a bit, he had been hoping to get out of his own head for some time. With a sigh, Vincent began to head for the edge of the ring.

"I'll fight you." A voice rang out from the other side of the ring. "Just don't send your woman after me, when I ruin that face of yours." The man continued.

Vincent sized the man up, and muttered under his breath "She'd probably be more mad you beat her to the punch." With that Vincent took off his leather armor and tunic, not wanting to ruin one of the few good piece of clothing her still owned, and walked into the center of the ring where his opponent now waited.

"This first to say down till five loses." The man said, before taking up his fighting stance. With a nod of understanding Vincent followed suit.

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The tavern patron stomped back to the bar, rubbing the wrist that held his newly acquired coin.

Sabine narrowed her eyes. “Did you actually just pay him to leave me alone?” She balled up her hands and held back a snarl. “What don’t you get? I don’t need you to protect me, you… you ass.”

Vincent’s ensuing explanation didn’t do him any further favours.

“Oh, just ‘doing your duty’,” she said. Her words dripped with sarcasm. “How fucking noble of you.” She glanced back at the brawl that had broken out. “Better hurry up – looks like there are more women dying for you to make their decisions for them.”

He had already turned away.

“Go to Sirothelle!” she yelled at Vincent’s receding back. Her fury carried over the din of the tavern, eliciting a downwards glance and sarcastic comment from his friend. “Stuff it, Bennett.”

A voice piped up from a nearby table. “Excuse me, miss? I think I got the wrong drink-”

“You’ll survive,” Sabine spat. She spun on her heel and returned to the bar, wanting nothing more than to break a glass or punch a wall or scream ‘bloody murder’ at the top of her lungs.

“Sabine…”

“What.” Sabine turned to glare daggers at the Bronze Boar’s head server – a curvy brunette woman with warm brown eyes that were both stern and sympathetic.

“Look, any other trial I would tell you to go home and get yourself under control,” Moira said. “But it’s the Beer Festival and we need the help. So take this and keep it together until your shift’s over, got it?”

She handed Sabine a glass of whiskey, which she promptly downed. The familiar heat pooled in her belly and ignited her veins, reminding her that alcohol was, once again, the most loyal friend she had.

“Thanks.”

“You can pay me back by doing your job,” Moira said. “Yell at your man-”

“-he’s not my man-”

“-on your own time. Now go! That table needs to be cleared.”

The next few breaks passed at the breakneck speed of a snail despite the crowds. Everywhere she went, she was painfully aware of Vincent’s presence. When a fight broke out, he was there. When a drunk harassed a patron, he was there. When a table was flipped, he was there.

He was always there.

Several times she had to bite her tongue as they passed within inches of each other, but for the most part it seemed he was trying to keep a good distance between them – coward that he was. For Sabine’s part, she allowed herself only the occasional glare and did her best to stay focused on the patrons as the breaks ticked by. She didn’t make any friends with her short responses, but at least managed to avoid stealing any more drinks.

Shortly before the tavern closed for the night, the head server approached again and handed her a beer. “Why don’t you take a break and head upstairs to watch the last few fights before we have to send everyone home? Watching people get hit in the face might make you feel better.”

Sabine half-smiled and accepted the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Moira.”

A few quick steps took her up the stairs to the second floor of the tavern, where a large group had gathered. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pressed her way to the front, eager to see who had taken up the challenge that evening.

Oh, fuck me…

Her stomach dropped and heat returned to her cheeks as she saw Vincent in the center of the ring, shirtless and ready in his fighting stance. In her fury, she half-considered forcing her way into the ring and taking him on herself. But mad as she was, she wasn’t stupid enough to make enemies of the entire city by interrupting a fair fight. So instead, Sabine did the only thing she could think of to show Vincent exactly what she thought of him.

“I’ve got five gold nel on the one in the green shirt,” she said, raising her voice and pointing to Vincent’s opponent. “Any takers?”

Murmurs ran through the crowd until a portly man raised his hand from across the ring. “I’ll take that bet!”

Sabine nodded to show that she’d heard him and chugged the entirety of her beer.

Vincent’s opponent grinned. “I think that server’s got the hots for me,” he said, and sent a fist flying towards Vincent’s head.
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As Vincent started to zero in on the opponent a familiar voice broke above the din of the crowd. "I've got five gold nel on the one in the green shirt, any takers?"

An exasperated sigh left Vincent's mouth as his eyes left his opponent and slid over to the owner of the voice. Sabine. As he saw her nod to someone who accepted her bet, a fire erupted in his chest. If she thought that betting against him would cause him to lose focus, she was seriously mistaken. "I think that server’s got the hots for me." With that the fight started as the man swung for Vincent's head.

With a half step forward and a twist of his body, Vincent grabbed the mans swinging arm and used the moment of his own attack to lift him off his feet and send him sailing over Vincent shoulder and straight into the floor. With a heavy thumb, and an explosion of breath from the man's mouth as all the air in his lungs for forced from his body, the crowd feel silent for a few trills before erupting in a series of shouts, and cheers. Looking down at the man now struggling to draw breath again. "I'd be careful, a fire that hot is likely to burn you." With that Vincent waited for the five count to announce his victory. Afterwards he'd help the man to his feet and pass him off to someone in the crowd.

Stretching his arms and shoulders a bit as he waited for anyone else to step into the ring. If no one seemed up to the challenge after a few bits Vincent would let out a small sigh before collecting his shirt and gear and exiting the ring.

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Sabine ignored the unwelcome thrill that ran through her as Vincent flipped his opponent to the floor and instead focused on the rage that continued to burn through her body like acid. Her expression darkened and her hand tightened around the now-empty glass, daring it to break. With her free hand, she dug into her coin purse for the five gold nel she had promised the portly man who was now gleefully pushing his way towards her.

Sonofabitch.

“Here,” she said, dropping the nel into the man’s waiting palm.

“Bet again?”

She scowled. “Fuck off.”

As Sabine turned away, a new voice greeted her - this one belonging to a tall, well-muscled man with a face like a brick. “'ey girly. What’ll you give me if I beat your man there?”

“He’s really not my man.”

“Even better.”

Sabine eyed the newcomer up and down before glancing back at Vincent, who stood waiting in the ring. “Beat him and I’ll give you whatever you want,” she muttered. It was all she could do to not immediately regret her words when the man’s eyes lit up like a bonfire.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to a friend before shoving his way into the ring and spreading his arms in challenge. “Oi! I’m next. Can’t let a stranger show up a bar full of Rharnians, can I?”

The crowd roared their approval and pressed forward, jostling for space as they readied themselves for the next fight. Sabine crossed her arms against her chest and kept her eyes trained on the fighters.

Vincent’s new opponent smirked and dropped his voice so only Vincent could hear. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll take real good care of your girl while you’re recovering.” He raised his fists and shifted into a fighting stance. If Vincent was paying close attention, he might notice that his newest challenger seemed to have more skill than the last – something that would become increasingly evident as he began to move like a lion circling its prey.
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Vincent watched as Sabine had a discussion that he couldn't hear with a guy who was build like an actual fighter, and not someone who did it for sport after one too many ales. Whatever passed between the two, it was enough to get the man to enter the ring with a wide grin on his face. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll take real good care of your girl while you’re recovering.” The man said to Vincent in a hushed voice that was swallowed by the crowd soon after Vincent heard the word.

Vincent face was deadpan. No reaction, no emotion, but his eye's were a fire. Bine, what did you promise this guy. Vincent thought to himself. As the other man took his stance, he soon started to circle around Vincent. Vincent stood still and followed the man with his eyes until he was lost out of sight behind him. Soon after the man disappeared, he began to move to attack, and at the same moment Vincent sprung into motion. Vincent side stepped left just as the mans meaty fist passed through the space where his head was at just a moment before. Using the momentum of his dodge, Vincent spun and aimed a snap kick to the back of the man's knee. With a quick pivot on his right foot, the man brought his fist around in a backhanded blow that connected with a sharp crack, and forced Vincent back a step.

Vincent quickly caught his balance and had his guard up in a blink, but the man didn't follow, just stood there with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Vincent could feel the split lip, could taste the blood in his mouth. With the back of his hand Vincent wiped the blood from his chin, before spitting the blood in his mouth on the floor a few feet away. He was quick for as big as he was. Afterwards Vincent took up a stance, this one shockingly different than the one he had used in the past. Both hand raised in front of him at about chin level, and a slight rocking motion as he moved his weight from his front foot to his back.

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Her traitorous heart fell into her stomach when the blow landed and Vincent stumbled back. She couldn’t hide the step she’d taken towards him or the way her fingers dug into her skin when he spat blood on the floor, but she could pull on her memories of the boat, of the cabin and the long trials that followed, to keep it from happening again. As Vincent dropped into a new stance, one that surprised both his opponent and the crowd, Sabine forced compassion from her mind and reached for his parting gifts to fuel the fire: loss, betrayal, grief.

Loneliness.

Was it too much to want him to know how it felt to be abandoned? To want him to feel exactly what she’d felt? What she continued to feel?

Vincent’s adversary maintained his smug expression, even as he stepped back defensively to survey Vincent’s position. After a trill, he began to circle once more, looking for holes and weaknesses that he could exploit. Thinking he’d found one, he sent a fist flying towards Vincent’s chest, hoping to take the breath from his lungs

If Vincent dodged, the man would swing again. And then again, and again – each time growing increasingly frustrated when his hits failed to land.

A shout came from the crowd and the man’s irritation began to show: red cheeks, clenched jaw, white knuckles. His bravado shifted to grim-faced determination until, finally, his frustration peaked and he made a sloppy, thick-fisted swing towards Vincent’s head. If the blow landed, it was likely to knock Vincent to the floor. If it didn’t, the man would stumble forward a step and attempt to throw up his guard.
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Vincent watched as the man began to circle again, a lion circling it's chosen prey. Though if his opponent was a lion, Vincent was a leopard. As the man struck out at Vincent, he moved, ducking below his fist and landing a few lighter strikes to the mans ribs as he slipped away. Again and again the man swung, and again and again he hit little more than air as Vincent danced around him land strike after strike. Vincent's attacks weren't heavy, but what they lacked in power they made up for in speed and number.

As the time ticked by the man grew more and more flustered, his anger and frustration getting the better of him. His attacks grew sloppy and finally he made the mistake Vincent had been waiting for. With on attack the man put too much strength into the punch and over extended his balance when he missed.

At that moment Vincent pounced. Then man's guard was up in an instant and Vincent rained fists on him like a summer storm. Each strike aim at the man's head and sides, forcing him to keep his arms raised to defend from the blows. Then with a single sliding step forward Vincent brought his right fist up under the mans guard and drove upwards with his legs. With a solid sounding strike Vincent shattered the man's defense as his fist connected with his jaw and sent him upwards and backwards before depositing on the ground.

Sucking in a single deep breath, Vincent took a step back and watched the man on the ground.

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