Tyce_icon.gif Taril_icon.gif

Scene Title Pinata Of Poor Life Choices
Synopsis Taril enters after Tyce has hit the Hanged Man like a pinata.>
Location The Hanged Man
Date 16 Harvestmere, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Broken chairs.
Logger Taril

It probably is what would have been like any other autumn night, the fog is coming in off the harbor, the damp is settled into the corners, creeping through whatever cracks it can. With the hearth keeping most of it at bay, one would think that the Hanged Man would be bustling. Which it probably was… half a hour ago…

At the moment, there are a couple mecs being carried out, by others that well look like they may have met the wrong end of a swinging chair.. the voices inside are hushed as some pick up tables, tankards and chairs.. others sit at the bar or tables at the edge of what looks to have been a full blown brawl, many sending concerned glances towards the dwarf's door, others glancing back towards the table in the back, where one archer and dog happen to be.

Around Tyce seems to be the center of whatever storm came through, his table broken, two legs having given way and now pushed to the side. A chair that really all that is left is the back and ifs stained red, is laying crumbled on the ground. As servers clean and pick this and that, Tyce sits there, one leg on another chair, cup in hand as his nurses the brew. Not that he got away scott free, there are busted knuckles, black eye and well there is a wince whenever he moves just right, his breath shallow at the moment. Not to mention his purse being a good deal lighter, someone had to appease the Dwarf. Oh and Balai? She is chewing on her bone in content.

Taril walks into the bar and just blinks at the scene. There's a few distinctly elvish sounding swear words before he spots Tyce. "Did you…?" He indicates the destruction. "You humans." Says the guy who put an arrow in the Arishock's arm. "Creators, did no one teach you to bandage?" Hear that sigh? That's a put upon sigh. So, with his bear beside him, he makes for where Tyce sits and pulls out some linen from the bag carried over his shoulder. "I'd meant this for the clinic. Good thing I haven't gotten there yet."

Tyce arches a brow at the sudden appearance of Taril, well more at Balai leaving her bone to go meet the elf and the bear before they actually make it to the archer. But as they come close his pale eyes meet the younger man's. His growly voice attempting to sound almost pleasant. "Hello Ta-rilll, you'l are looking…" squinting through the bruised and swollen socket. "…. rather annoyededd. Whats wrongs" then of all thing, he smiles.. teeth and all… yep, there are blood stains on the teeth.

Taril takes a moment to say a proper hello to Balai and then leaves her and the bear to walk over to Tyce. "I… Maker, you're really drunk and you look like you've been worked over by … everyone in the bar." He glances back. "Everyone that was in the bar." Still, he finds an undamaged chair and sets about ripping the linen down to bandage size while motioning to one of the emerging serving girls for something cold to put on the eye. He pulls a bottle out of his bag that looks like it's gonna sting and motions for the man to lay his hands out on the table. "I'm not annoyed, I'm… Dread wolf's ass, what happened here?"

Tyce eyes the bottle, the bandages, eyes narrowing at the idea that Taril wants to put something that ouches on his knuckles…. cause there the man will take a full bar room beating. Medicine is another thing all together. One hand still holding his cup, his left hand lays flat on the table, fingers spread. " There was this…" he lifts his head looking around the broken mess, but ends up pointing to a smear of blood on the floor boards. " fell-ow.. wouldn'ted take…" the hand that is laid down lifting to motion a second time towards one of the serving girls. "… no.. for an answer.. " drink…. then a shake of his head as if trying to get the bells to stop ringing. ".. so I 'splained."

Taril raises an eyebrow and looks around the bar again. "Well, I guess they took something for an answer." He decides before pouring the liquid over Tyce's knuckles. He waits a few seconds before using some of the linen to clean it off. "Hold it up, I'll bandage it. It'll stop stinging eventually." He's not bad with the bandage making, either. Even if he doesn't have scissors to cut them with. "I suppose they're used to fights breaking out?"

So yeah, the liquid hits and Tyces hand snatches back as the sting registers.. fingers shaking, eyes wide, looking at Taril as if he just tried to poison his dog! "That hurts!" accuses as he tries to blow at it the wounds as if Taril had set hot coals into the wounds. "Maker.. what are you trying to do to me?" blurts out before suspiciously letting the elf man take his hand to bandage.

"Keep you from losing your fingers. Creators only know what you could have picked up hitting some of them." Taril explains as he wraps the bandage and secures it, then motions for the other hand. There's a cold cloth delivered for Tyce's eye and he waits for that to be taken. "Well? It's gonna hurt. I'm not a healer, remember? I'm a hunter and sometimes we have to put ourselves back together." Something he obviously didn't do on his way to Kirkwall, but that's beside the point. "It'll keep you from getting an infection."

The cloth taken then suddenly Tyce realizes he doesn't have enough hands.. the newly bandaged one holding the compress to his eye, the that Taril wants holding his tankard.. there is is a moment as if the man seriously looks as if he doesn't know what to do, because…. well tankard… eye…. the look on the elfman's face waiting for his hand… yep he just sort of blinks.

Taril sighs. "Just put it on the table. …downwind." Because blerg. "Once this is bandaged, you can… creators, I don't know why you'd want to, but you can." So he waits, as if his directions should have been perfectly clear and easily followed. "I'm gonna check on these tomorrow. If they look worse, you're gonna find a healer. Infections run fast down here. Not as bad as in Darktown, but still bad enough."

Tyce glances to the tankard, then the table slowly setting it down as if it is as fragile as a newborn, before laying his hand down on the table. "Supppposese to be nasties.. " is muttered under his breath. "… tis the point….. bad and bitter as itis got t' drown." his head falling back then as the man turns sullen, staring up at the ceiling through his good eye. ".. infection won't kill me… tried."

Taril takes the time to pour the liquid over these wounds, repeating the process of cleaning and wrapping. "So why go through it if it won't work? There. Done. You know it's not gonna work, right? Demons don't drown." So he stoppers the bottle and rolls the rest of the linen up to be stowed away. "Quiet doesn't silence 'em, and being alone doesn't make 'em leave you alone. That's the way this works."

In the quiet moments while Taril works on his hand, the shallowness of Tyce's breath sounds loud in his ear. Pulling his hand back, flexing the fingers before he reaches for the mug, but not lifting it. "Don't wanna drown the demons.. they are mine… drown the need.. the want to go back." Tyce says in that soft mutterd growl. His one good eye lifting back to Taril. "The demons are earned… "

Taril shrugs. "Maybe the only thing that shuts that up is doing it. Even if you don't have anything to go to." He thinks it over for a second, tipping his head. "And maybe it's not something you're supposed to stop feeling."

"Ah but that is…" Tyce's eyes close, hand holding the cloth now pressed hard onto the swollen socket. "… I am not going back…. not for.. me… for others." lifting his tankard, then taking a deep drink. "… this isn't about my happiness. It is about theirs."

"I never said anything about being happy." Taril pulls out a smaller vial of the stinging stuff and hands it over. "For tomorrow when you wake up. Take the bandages off and pour this over your knuckles. Then leave them uncovered. If they stay sore and swell, see a healer."

Tyce sets the tankard down, the cloth to his eye coming to rest beside it as he looks across to Taril. "It's all about happiness and want. And not being selfish." then very carefully takes the bottle from the man's hand, turning it in his own before reaching out taking hold of Taril's palm to turn it face up and press the small bottle back into it. "They will be okay. Thank you."

"They're still alive to be happy. Maybe that's the difference." Taril shrugs it off and settles the bag's strap over his chest again. "It's nothing. Just don't take the bandages off till morning. Otherwise you'll have discoloration. You really are stubborn, human."

"Maybe." is all Tyce answers, not wanting to explain himself enough to correct Taril's impressions. Instead, moves to stand, his breath catching with a hiss and a wince as he moves. Jaw setting with something of a sneer before reaching for the bow that is never far away. "I am. But thank you anyway."

Taril stands as well. "It's not my business, so I won't ask. I'll check tomorrow. If you're still limping, I'll get you a healer." The bear is given a whistle before he takes time to say goodbye to Balai. "You gonna need help getting out of here?"

Tyce shakes his head. "Nope can get there just fine.." that tight jaw answer being one that takes as little air as possible before he swings his bow back onto his back and with a small hand movement brings Balai, who has been laying on the bear, back towards him. "Got help."

Taril nods. "Alright, suit yourself." This elf is going to leave before he gets blamed for th mess. "I'll check with you tomorrow." Then he's off, exiting and heading in the direction of Darktown.

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