abraxaslogs | september catch-all; open

[ Kahlil has only recently figured out how to summon different clothes within the hidden rooms of his temple. He wears a leather duster with the symbol of the Hanged Man etched into the right shoulder, beneath that a plain grey t-shirt and dark jeans - similar to what he might've worn in Nayeshi. Otherwise this world would have had him in a grey cassock beneath the coat, the Payshmura moons adorning his collar, advertising one part of what he is/was.

What can't be seen on him are the two curse blades at his sides, inhabiting some nowhere place until he should need to summon them.

(He hasn't been able to summon or find the yasi'halaun. He's been afraid to try. )

He hears the other man's approach, turning his head from the television screen to watch him. A regular or the one this Domain belongs to by the ease with which he moves here. Kahlil eyes the beer for a moment before setting down the remote, curling his fingers around the cold glass. Everything feels so real in these spaces. ]

No, just been a while. Ours was smaller. [ Ours. It feels like saying something he shouldn't, taking possession of what didn't belong to him. It was John's television, John's DVDs they'd watched. In that version of his memories, the ones he feels more certain of, John had never known how much that shared time meant to him. He could never tell him.

Kahlil gives an apologetic half shrug. ]

Wondered what channels you had.

( Been a while is a little weird, at least to him. He can't imagine a scenario where television isn't a fixture — aside from their current real world state out there, obviously. It's been in every room he's ever had for any length of time; motels, hotels, Bobby's, the bunker, everywhere. That's the entire reason for Dean's slightly incredulous expression, but it's brief, and he moves on quickly.

Slaps the top of the bar gently. )

Wellp, you're in luck. This baby's got MTV, VH1, HBO, Cinemax, Skinemax, Syfy, Cartoon Network, BBC America, PBS, CNN, MSNBC, CNN en Español, Telemundo, you name it. Just about everything but the CW and Fox, because screw Canada and republicans.

( Granted, the programming is all limited to crap he's seen before, but he's seen... a lot. )

Edited 2022-09-12 19:42 (UTC)

[ He offers no explanation when Dean doesn't push, the incredulous look almost makes him laugh (what a strange thing to feel nostalgic over, when it used to make him feel so much like the outsider).

And then his head is spinning with acronyms - more than half of which he can't make heads or tails of. Fox does, oddly enough, but not for the politics, he thinks that might've been the channel they watched baseball on.

He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to one side with a wry look. ]

What do you have against Canadians?

( There's a long pause, as though he's expecting Kyle to hit him with a just kidding! When no such thing comes, Dean shoots him a dubious look. As though it's the most obvious answer in the world: )

It's Canada.

( Come on, man.

Before Kyle can ask for a clarification, he's already moving on. )

So, you come in with the last batch? First time here?

( He pulls out his own bottle of beer. Uses an opener to pry the top off, and tosses it underhanded cleanly into the trash. )

[ Nayeshi was so much larger than Basawar, it'd probably take him another decade to understand all of the various innocuous rivalries between countries and states. So he only shrugs, watching as the Dean handles the bottle and lightly tapping his own with his fingertips. ]

Right before Nocwich. [ He answers, and glances around the bar again. ] I've done some exploring, noticed this place draws a crowd sometimes...

[ He trails off, eyeing a checkered board nailed to the wall with a faintly amused look. ]

... what's Knife Chess?

( I've noticed this place draws a crowd; he inclines his head in short little bob — you're not wrong. It's usually not swamped by any means, but it does get a steady trickle of regulars some evenings. Music's always playing, so if other domains don't go out of their way to block it out, it might drift.

He brightens at the mention of the board. )

Excellent question. You any good at throwing knives?

( Let's establish that first and foremost before he goes about launching into an explanation for it. )

[ He raises an eyebrow at the question, considering the target as he bobs his head back and forth, humming low. ]

I haven't started drinking yet so... pretty good.

[ With a wry look he takes a long drink from the bottle, then starts to shrug off his duster, standing to hang it over the back of his seat. With one hand he ties back his shoulder length hair from his face. No playing the ringer tonight, there's an effortless, fluid grace to even these small movements.

He shoots Dean another look: well? ]

( He lifts one eyebrow like a challenge, or an assessment — jury's always out on what pretty good means to somebody until he actually sees it for himself. There are people who land a knife half the time, people who land it every time, people who can't quite master the specific no flip/half flip rules, and then there's friggin' Inej hurling those bitches out like it's child's play.

Makes for a good gauge on a person's history.

He makes a humorously over-dramatic resigned rolling up of his sleeves, like a bullshit telegraphed alright, you asked for it — in the process, inadvertently flashing that angry red mark branded into his skin. )

Let's do this.

( He rounds the bar. Steps up to the line, and with a sudden clatter about a dozen knives spill out from nowhere onto a small table. The convenience of the horizon, sure is nice not to have to go gather them up one by one.

He gestures obligingly. )

Rookies first, new guy. Rules are on the wall.

[ The angry, raised flesh of his red mark catches Kahlil's notice, as any strange symbol might, distracting him from the sudden waterfall of knives.
Sometimes the casual unrealness of Horizon manages to take him aback, especially in a Domain like this which is reasonably mundane by Nayeshi standards. He reaches for one of the knives that clattered out of nowhere, testing the weight and balance in his right hand as he positions himself on the line.

With a flick of his wrist the blade hurtles in a straight line to square a3, black. It hits the board with a satisfying thunk, quivering in place for a second. He picks up a second knife, tossing it in the air once to catch, shifting the blade to his palm before winding it over his shoulder and letting it sail in the half spin, splitting the white square d3.

A glance at Dean, eyebrow raised. ]

What're you drinking?

Well, look at you.

( He comments, lips tugging down in an expression that broadcasts the fact that he's impressed. Not shocked by any means, not baffled — it's the type of thing he sees often enough to figure up the statistics on half thee people coming in here knowing how to do something like it.

Not all of 'em are this clean about it, though.

He reaches over. Plucks up his own bottle of beer, and takes a swig before reaching for his own knife. He flips it around a couple of times in his hand, and then gives it a throw — easy as breathing, dead-center of a black square.

He's been playing this game a hell of a lot lately. )

So, you a hunter, a soldier, or a spy?

[ He tips his head at Dean. It's so rare he gets to show off, he forgets how much he enjoys it. But his opponent isn't a slouch either. He steps back to lean against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest with an assessing look as he watches the first throw.

He'll say this for the Summoned, the majority of them are skilled with blades - and other weaponry. He learned that much in Nocwich.

It makes the ones who aren't stand out more. ]

Right before I arrived I was a runner for a wealthy family. [ A courier. ] More dangerous work than you'd think.

[ He unfolds his arms after a moment to reach for his beer before Dean throws the second blade, though he waits for it before drinking.

There's an amused wryness to his tone. He's not going to admit to being a spy or attempt to speak of what he was/is. ]

You?

Huh.

( He says lightly about Kyle's career description. It's casual, but if he's particularly observant Kyle might detect some trace amounts of skepticism deep down under there. He's not gonna question it, but he's also not so sure he buys it.

It's a lot like Inej, back when they first got to know each other. The way she hurled a knife like a god damn pro the first time, and then tried to explain it by saying she lived in a rough neighborhood. It's a suspicion, not a firm conclusion, but he's gonna guess spy — those are usually the only ones who won't outright say it. )

Hunter. ( Short, straightforward answer. ) Demons, vampires, werewolves. You name it. Mostly desert monsters these days.

( He throws a knife. It thunks into the board, precariously close to the line between black and white, but still technically a pass. )

[ Kahlil catches the skepticism and leaves it where he found it. If he didn't want the man's curiosity than he could've come up with a better excuse, could've faked being mediocre at the game. Something about this and this man place brings draws out that competitive side, an itch to be acknowledged.

The answer earns Dean an odd look. By hunter he'd assumed the sort that brought back their own food. ]

Really? [ A raised eyebrow. When the knife hits the mark he tips his head toward Dean and takes his drinks, spinning one of his own knives in his hand for a moment. ]

Is that a big problem in your world? Nocwich must've been... odd for you.

[ Awkward, maybe? Kahlil himself had never seen such beings in real life before. Well, vampires and werewolves, anyway. There were other creatures in Basawar that were named demon, even if the actual hordes are relegated to dusty tomes. ]

( Yeah, he's gotten the what, like deer? response a few too many times not to clarify anymore. On the one hand, yes, he's definitely bagged his fair share of deer — for meat, not for sport — but it's a whole different thing. Especially in a world where monsters are so... monstery, and plenty abundant.

He sways through a casual little shrug. )

Slightly different species back home, but yeah, you could say that. ( About Nocwich being... odd. ) The ones I'm used to are a hell of a lot less civilized and a hell of a lot more interested in eating people, so. Guess you could call it a pleasant surprise.

( Or a suspicious one. )

[ He throws his next knife, near dead center on a black square. ]

They don't exist in my world. [ A beat. ] The vampires at the Nightbloom were courteous hosts, even if some parts of the menu were... strange.

[ The Payshmura use some blood in ritual drinks, but even that is rare. ]

I like to think I'm adventurous, but blood-infused cocktails might be my limit.

september catch-all; open

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