theattic | PSL: KINGS OF ABORG

"Spout off all you want, you'll be singing a different tune from underneath the table soon enough!"

Maurice talked a big game but after his fifth glass, he'd dissolved into a snickering mess. He had to hold his head up with one hand to keep it off the table. The prince's hair had fallen into his face and the peered at Hanna both mystified, frustrated, and amused from between his parted fingers.

"You know you...you could always do polkadots next time you do your--your--your. You know. Your thing with the...colors!"

Hanna, who was closer to seven glasses on top of what he had already had before they started, seemed to be just fine. Or at least, much less drunk than his apprentice.

"What, do you have a problem with pink? It's my favorite color. Polkadots would be hideous." Much like the nasty colors he had turned when Maurice had moved his potions.

Still, he's curious, raising a brow at Maurice, "Honestly, if I could do any colors, what would you suggest, in all seriousness. And no patterns, those are difficult." if he were in his usual shape he would have snorted smoke, but as it was he just huffed instead. It wasn't quite so dramatic.

"No, no, no, no, pink's fine! It'sssss fiiiiine. But I'm just saying. Polkadots. Or. Or tartan!"

He put his glass forward for a refill and held his hands up to create a frame around what he could see of Hanna. However now he was faced with a question.

"Uhmmm.....well, I still think you look like a church. Th' white's real nice but..." He shut one eye at a time and tried to visualize. "Purple. Prupple's a royal color. You know they make purple from seashells!"

"Tartan." Hanna scoffs, shaking his head. He was not impressed. Sorry Maurice, but he may look like a blank canvas, but that didn't mean you could fill it in with anything you wanted. "If I could do checkers, maybe. But again, that's more trouble than it's worth."

He sits back in his chair, his eyes wandering over the other man's face, the way he leaned, the way he tried to focus, smiling at the idea of him focusing so much on just him. "Do you think I'm regal? I'm not sure I'm worth such a noble color, my lord.

"Checkers wouldn't do, they'd hunt you for sure just to play games on your hide."

Maurice shook his head very seriously before returning to the true topic at hand. Or claw, in the hidden Hanna's case. The prince tilted his head--a little too far for it to be a natural gesture-- at the very thought of the dragon NOT being regal.

"Of course you are! You're a--a-- dragon! Your neck is like--" Maurice made a wild swooping motion, leaning across the table as if to better. "--like an eagle's! But your brow is...more...I'm not a poet, I can't descrive things very well...descrive? De. Scrive. DESCRIBE! Ahaha! I'm a scribe who can't describe!"

The prince was then wholly distracted with laughing at himself.

"I wish you were our coat of arms instead of the cockerel!"

This time, he responds with a snort, hiding a laugh, and he'll lean close to Maurice, nudging his side. "You'll make me blush, talking like that. I'm not some large, fierce beast worthy of praise. I'm small, my wing span is nothing to brag about, and I have bad eyesight. My only redeeming feature is my skills, and those are hard won." Not that he couldn't say that he was very good at what he did, others of his kind at times asked for help with things that were beyond them, and some dragons could barely work much magic at all, but it was a life skill he had succeeded at out of necessity, even if he liked it. He couldn't say it was all that brag worthy, even if he showed off from time to time.

"If I was your coat of arms, my head would probably be in your dining hall, My lord. While you honor me with your words, I don't think I would like being a trophy. The thought is nice though. Perhaps if the world could value us more as assets than decoration and pests, it would be easier." But he doubted after so long, it wouldn't be so.

"Don't undersell yourself!" Maurice reached out to jab Hanna in the shoulder with his finger. "You are a fanas..fan...fan tas ti cul beast and you should be proud of it!"

He held out his cup. Whether or not his goblet is refilled, he continues piling on the compliments.

"Oh, please! If you were our coat of arms we'd all be into...you know." He rolled his wrist and gestured to the piles of clutter around the main chamber. "Books and scrolls and things like that. Not fast food. Did I tell you that's what our kingdom was founded on? My mother's restaurants? It's...silly if you really really think about it. More wine?"

Maurice suddenly screwed up his face at the thought of it.

"Wretched. I have royal blood in me, I'll just...make...my own country! And be king of it!"

He rubs at the spot he was just prodded, his human skin definitely not as thick as his scales, and was just about to protest the poking when Maurice just continued to mouth off about his greatness. He couldn't even laugh, just poured him more wine and sat, listening.

"It's odd that you had to achieve such greatness to earn your place in a kingdom centered on food. I can't say defeating a dragon is easy. It's not impossible, but...do you have simblings that have done the same? It just seems so dangerous a task..."

And while Maurice isn't perfect, the idea sounds charming. He laughs, good naturedly, and reaches out pat Maurice on the shoulder, "If you did become king, I'd swear my magic to you, my liege. A good king always needs a wizard behind him for advice anyways."

By this point, more wine was ending up on Maurice's tunic than inside of him, but now he had an idea and it was one he had to gesture wildly about to explain.

"Yes! Yes, that would be perfect! And instead of dragging home a thinking speaking being to dice up and throw on the table to be crowned, you would make one hundred thousand copies of our greatest poet's work and--and--" An enormous belch cut him off. "Pardon. And of course I'd need...land. And poets. Maybe the bog. No one is using the bog. No one would look for a colorful dragon in a borg! Borg...ahaha! Aborg! Aborg! That'll be the country's name!"

He slapped the table loudly and laughed, only to sober a moment later.

"I don't know how much I can do about this though." He peered down at his chest and tugged aside his collar to look at the top half of his tattoo. "I surpporse you could...cut it off. A little at a time."

Hanna would have to clean that up later. But still, he didn't think it so much a problem. He wasn't sure he had ever seen the other man quite so enthusiastic about anything when he wasn't angry. "Aborg, that sounds...pleasant? Though, here. Maurice...how about you tell me about it and we can go to the sto- Uh. Your room." Because he feels kind of bad about him having to sleep in a room that is so far away from the main hall of the cave, where it's colder. "Can you make it there if I help you, or do you want to sleep in here tonight?"

He stands, unsure of what to say about Maurice wanting him to remove his tattoo, but it is an interesting idea...he wonders if he could just...draw over it. He could attempt to use the same magic he used to change his colors, but depending on the ink and how deep it was, it might not turn out so good. "Give me your arm, my lord. I'll help you."

Maurice looked up from considering some terrible self-surgery and takes a good few ticks to process the dragon's words.

"My room? We're having a contest! I'm not done!" He slapped the table again and broke into a grin that he thought looked rather cunning. "Have you given up? I won't blame you!"

He eyed Hanna's offered arm and as he did, he felt himself leaning. No! He couldn't show any signs of weakness! Maurice straightened up, puffed up, and took Hanna's arm himself.

"Poor creature, of course I'll guide you to your bed."

"I can still walk straight and I've had quite a bit more. I wouldn't think it'd be wise to try and catch up when you look like you're going to fall over." Now, if the dragon got truly drunk while Maurice was watching, it might be a different story, but he's not, and he grins when the other grabs his arm, pulling him up with more strength than he looked to have in that tiny body. His teeth flash sharp little daggers and he'll nod to Maurice, fanning himself dramatically.

"You'll take me to bed? Oh...I don't know what to say my lord."

"I can wa-AULK!" Maurice's protest turned into a yelp as the lithe wizard yanked him upright as though he were a pup by his scruff. He wobbled there, standing easily a head higher than the wizard but feeling suddenly shaken (and unexpectedly excited???) about the display.

However, now that he stood, he could feel all the wine sloshing uncomfortably in his guts. The cave had always been just a little crooked, hadn't it? It was a cave! A natural formation! It was supposed to be slanted.

He was leaning again, leaning away from Hanna without meaning to.

A second jolt sent him upright though as heat rushed to his face, turning him nearly as pink as the dragon in his proper shape.

"Oh, I should have beheaded you when I had the chance! I can walk! Let me go! Let go!" Maurice commanded this of Hanna while swatting his shoulder. Wait. Where had his glass gone? He'd dropped it at some point.

"Oh, I like that color. Maybe I'll use that one. Tomorrow we can try and get that same color so I can copy it." He laughs, taking a step back away from his offending hand, though not too far away. He doesn't want Maurice to fall either.

"Come on, give me your hand, you shouldn't have any more, I'm calling a tie if that is what gets you to bed more quickly. I don't want to have to baby you tomorrow." Though at this point he probably already will need to. "If you feel sick, I'd prefer you to sleep in here though. It's easier to clean."

It was hard to tell if the color remained due to anger or being flustered. Maurice himself couldn't tell and he had yet to work out just exactly why the dragon teasing him this way got to him the quickest.

HE WOULD JUST HAVE TO BE ANGRIER.

Hanna did have a point though. He hadn't really thought about the aftermath of their contest and he looked at the long and winding tunnel ahead of them that lead to--his room. It was his room, wasn't it? That felt kind of nice. Even if it was full of junk and he slept on the floor.

But only because he hadn't asked for a bed, something reminded him and all at once, Maurice was overtaken with emotion. This dragon was willing to give him so much--refuge, an education, food, a place for his horse and his very own bow-- if he'd only used his brain and ask for it! He didn't deserve to be forgiven so quickly. Oh gods above he could feel himself getting ready to cry.

"O-okay."

Hanna blinked, unsure what was going on with the other man's face, but he seemed to be fighting a rush of some kind internally. He continued to stare until it looked like his apprentice was close to tears.

"Are...you okay? You don't have to go to bed...I just didn't want you to pass out at the table." He leans forward a little, unsure, though his hand is still offered, "I don't think I've ever...drank with a human before, are you usually like this when you get drunk?" And while he was aware that their tolerance was not enough to challenge a dragon, it still came as a surprise. It had started out as an unfair jest, but he was almost concerned now that he had made some horrible mistake.

"I'm...fine! I'm fine!" Maurice wiped at the corner of one eye with the heel of his hand and tried to suck it up. He had to stay composed!

But now Hanna was all concerned he really did care about his student's well-being! Maurice wished for all the world that he could go back to being angry.

Instead of taking Hanna's hand, Maurice reached out to plant a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, both to steady himself and to give him a weird sort of shake. Maurice couldn't look him in the eye because he was too far gone to focus on anything but he tried.

"You're a good man, Hannacross. You know that?" He drew in a loud sniff. He coughed loudly and took his hand away only to rest his elbow on Hanna's shoulder and sag heavily against him. He figured the dragon was stout enough to take it. "I don't usually get drunk. Whoof. Sorry, I don't know what came over me...I do mean you're a good person but I mean the other. Stuff. I need to lie down."

"If you're sure..." Hanna says slowly, though each lean, each slap of his hand gets him to kind of stumble. He was strong still, yes, but over all his body was weaker, less sturdy, and it took a moment for him to adjust to Maurice's weight leaning against him.

He'll let him continue to compliment him though, his arm coming around Maurice, guiding him towards the back of the cavern, towards his own bed because hell if he is going to clean up the store room tomorrow if Maurice gets sick. It was easier to clean anything out here...less things that can catch on fire or be damaged. "I'm not a man, but that's okay. I appreciate it." He returns, stumbling himself with Maurice's weight and his own state of drink. He was more buzzed and fuzzy than anything, clear of mind but warm inside.

He gets to the edge of his horde, considers the space and gestures to the floor outside of it, nodding to Maurice. "Sit here and I'll be right back. Try...Try not to touch." And then he'll be off to get his apprentice some water before bed because maybe that will help.

"No, no I mean a...a person I guess. A thinking being. You're a good mandragonperson."

Oh. Sit? He could sit. Maurice grunted as he finally let go of Hanna and let the wall guide him downward where he sat with a thump. It was then that he knew he was not going to be able to get back up until the sun returned.

As the dragon retreated, Maurice lifted a hand to his head in a sloppy salute. "Yesssss suurrrrr."

By the time Hanna returned, Maurice was already slouched against the cavern wall staring dazedly at the ceiling and twirling a lock of his hair around one finger. He may have...also been singing. But it could have also just been the overgrown boy saying 'yes surrr' quietly to himself over and over.

The drunken prince was a trainwreck.

Maurice, though drunk and probably won't even realize, was given quite a bit of trust in the few short minutes it took for Hanna to come back with some of the furs he slept with and a glass of water. Just on the edge of the horde against the cave wall, Maurice still sat when he came back, gold untouched, and something heavy in the Dragon's stomach lifted when he saw the man just leaning, playing with his own hair. Such a good human. A very drunk, good human.

"Here, drink this and then try and go to sleep. If you need to get sick try and go as far as you can before you do. Just...not near me." He'll hold out the water and consider his horde, the human shape he still wore. It never was as comfy to sleep in when he didn't have hard scales and a long, large body, but...part of him wasn't sure if shifting when Maurice was obviously so far gone was a good thing.

"Will you be alright? Or should I stay up with you for a little while?"

Maurice's reaction was a little delayed. His eyes slid off Hanna a time or two before finally finding him. He let out a snort and accepted the glass.

"I'm fiiiiiine. I never felt better." As big a game as he talked, he drank his glass of water slowly, eyes drifting into the middle distance once again. It did feel good to finally feel relaxed. He hadn't felt any kind of relaxed probably since he arrived. There was always some undercurrent of worry--about his mother suddenly showing up, about displeasing the dragon one way or another, about getting some terrible wilderness disease.

But now he wasn't worried about any of that. He broke into an enormous yawn and held his empty glass out as though he expected a servant to take it from him.

And with that, he rolled slightly to one side, back toward Hanna, and lost consciousness. Eventually he gave way to loud snores as further proof that he'd left this world behind for several several hours.

Satisfied, and reluctantly taking the glass to set it aside, Hanna put the furs over him as soon as he was sure he wasn't going to drown in his own vomit in the middle of the night. He shifted forms now that he wasn't concerned about bothering the drunken man, and slipped under the coins and treasure, heaving a long sigh before falling asleep himself. Human snores didn't really bother him much in comparison to the gentle rumble of his own breathing and soon enough he had fallen asleep as well.

When the morning came, he was well rested, not a bit of sickness in his stomach or an ache in his head to be felt, and there was bright sunshine coming in from the mouth of the cavern. Today would be good.

He rolled over in the coins, the pile shifting and sounding like water as he moved, craning his head out to see if Maurice was awake yet. "Ready for the day, My lord?"

A hand swiftly planted itself against the dragon's dangerous muzzle.

"Ssssssshhhhhhhhh," hissed the prince miserably. Maurice was a mess. He'd gotten up and down during the night several times, luckily making it to the designated tunnel each time, but his face was drained of color and his hair even more disheveled than it had been when he walked in after spending several days in the wilderness.

He couldn't open his eyes all the way.

Hanna snorted, hot air pushing from his nose onto Maurice's hand. It wasn't hot enough to burn, but getting there. He shook his head, unsure of how he felt about the touch, and reared his head back, "You're going to be a wreck all day, aren't you?

He had a feeling that today was not in fact going to be good.

Maurice displayed a brilliant full-body cringe when Hanna spoke again. His outstretched hand curled into a fist, more so from the sound of the dragon's voice than the burst of hot air that rolled over it. Slowly, slowly he rested his head and shoulder back against the cave wall.

"Dragon, please, I beg you, have some respect for the dead. I am dying. This is very serious."

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