anothercontinuity | (no subject)

[ Perhaps too honest for an assassin. Or perhaps that inevitability of his acquaintance lets him be more candid than most. ]

Good. Glad to hear you've kept your appetite.

[ And he turns from the stove, offering Tony his plate ]

Cacio e pepe. It should go easy on your stomach.

[ with a quiet "thanks," tony accepts the plate in one hand. the smell and sight of the pasta combined hit him, and the hunger in his stomach awakens and transitions into starving. ]

Usually I get whatever the servants leave out, [ he explains. ] I don't think I've ever cooked. Probably for the...best. Tendency to blow things up.

Edited 2024-11-30 02:22 (UTC)

It takes practice. Like anything else worth doing.

[ Gathering up his own plate, he nods back towards the dining room. ]

And you create a great many things as it is. Something you can sink into and simply do, when you are of a mind, no?

[ tony leads them back to the dining table, where he places his plate at the spot with the brandy. ] You mean the stuff I've made here? That's not even scratching the surface.

I got that impression. But I didn't want to pry.

[ Sitting opposite, he reaches for his coffee first, still slightly steaming. ]

You have this look you get. As if your mind is always racing ahead to the future, trying to solve problems that haven't come yet.

[ tony pours himself a full glass of the brandy. ] Fair's fair, right? I had my turn. Plus, I'm feeling magnanimous. [ he sits. ] Open season. Pry away.

Edited 2024-11-30 04:40 (UTC)

This place you come from...what is it like there?

[ He has his suspicions. Clearly, it's somewhere advanced.

Perhaps on the same level as the elven empire of old, as Bellara had described it. Oh, the excitable tinkerer would likely have a field day with some of the things Tony was crafting. ]

Starting broad. Okay.

[ immediately his mind fills: the bright lights, the fast cars, the skyscrapers. home. a distance creeps into tony's eyes, not one of looking forward, but of looking back, inward, into memories—what he's tried leaving behind.

sniffing loudly to break out of it, tony twists pasta around his fork and shovels a helping into his mouth. he peers down at his food as he chews, trying to order his mind; to set up a comparison, a thruway from thedas to earth.

he swallows. as he talks, he can't shake that sense of loss. it lingers in his periphery, a trace of it in his words, ever present despite himself and his own efforts, no matter how hard he runs. ] In some respects, it's the same. Languages, accents, food... You call it Antivan. I'd call it Spanish or Italian. Common is English. [ except for the vast difference in their written forms, but that makes more sense to him than sharing a language galaxies apart. (still, gift horse, mouth, etc.) he had to give himself a crash course on written common early on. ]

Others? [ mouth thinned, he shakes his head. ] Apples and oranges. No magic, for starters. [ unless you count pulling a rabbit out of a hat or card tricks, he thinks sardonically, which I don't. ]

None at all?

[ So no mages, no demons...interesting.

Starting broad gives him an idea of where to guide things, however. Tony's decided what's important to point out first is points of similarity, and that could be him needing a way to anchor himself. Or it could be evasion.

Lucanis hums thoughtfully, lowering the mug to the table. ]

And you made things there. Weapons, machines, things of that sort.

[ a forced, tight smile is tony's answer to "none at all?" before he shovels another mouthful in. he thinks of the blue cube again, but even that can be explained with theoretical concepts. what she did to him...

an upside of talking about this while they eat, besides satisfying his own hunger, is that the mouthfuls grant tony time to figure out what to reveal and how to reveal it. ] Only the very best, [ he answers. ]

Edited 2024-12-01 04:24 (UTC)

Job, or hobby?

[ And he reaches for his own fork while waiting for the answer, patient enough to take what scraps Tony will reveal on his own. Perhaps he can form the picture for himself, with enough information. ]

Job. I headed a weapons manufacturer for the U.S. military. That was my country: United States of America. Land of the free. Home of the brave.

[ Military. Army. A coalition of states, united. Unlike the Free Marches.

It paints more of a picture as he chews quietly and swallows. ]

To go from supplying an army to a one-man blacksmith's shop. It must feel frustrating.

Army. Navy. Air Force. Marines, Coast Guard, National Guard... All of them. So yeah. Bit of a step down. It's been humbling, [ he admits, twirling more pasta around his fork, ] but truth be told, some people would've argued I needed that. [ a small, self-deprecating smile, then another mouthful. ]

Was it something you chose? You seem to have a passion for creation, but also...a sense of purpose. Unfulfilled.

[ Perhaps that's too blunt, too personal, but tact is not his forte. His eyes rest intently on Tony for a moment longer before returning to his plate, scarred brow arching. ]

Much as I would feel in a world with no need of the Crows, I suppose.

[ these next words tony says carefully. cherry-picked. practiced. ] Where I come from, peace meant having a bigger stick than the other guy, and I made the biggest sticks.

[ there are select points during their conservation where tony raises his eyes to emphasize or stand his ground. this is one of them: ] It doesn't matter what I chose. It was needed.

Edited 2024-12-03 02:04 (UTC)

[ When their eyes meet, there is only understanding there, the weight of heavy obligation.

Duty, family, a sense of what was needed...that feeling he knew all too well. ]

And these 'sticks' of yours. The blacksmith seems to be benefiting from them. It's drawn some curiosity around the city.

Edited 2024-12-04 14:15 (UTC)

[ no matter where he looks, tony can't find an ounce of judgment from lucanis, not a tic nor twitch. it makes sense. they come from similar family businesses. lucanis and the crows got down on a more personal level, but the result's the same: the deaths of their enemies, any of them remaining cowed, all in service of the people. ]

Eh. That's just me having some fun. [ tony scrapes the fork across the plate to scoop up some of the shorter strands. it tastes good now that he's slowed down, less ravenous. ]

Edited 2024-12-04 20:45 (UTC)

[ He hums softly. ]

And when you get serious? What does that look like?

[ Because he wants to know, as a facet of Tony, but also because he needs to know. This is his city, and any dangerous element being introduced to his home needs to be considered carefully. ]

Explosive.

[ after a glance from beneath his brow, tony scoops up more pasta, ending his answer. lucanis gets no more than that. some cards tony still means to hold close. ]

Edited 2024-12-05 00:35 (UTC)

[ It does explain the Venatori's interest, at least. ]

Then I would hope it does not come to that. I rather like my city in one piece.

Mmh.

[ that distant, inward-facing look again while tony mindlessly chews. even after swallowing, it stays. in his hand the fork rests on the edge of the plate. ]

[ Sign enough that the personal questions are likely on hold, for a moment. ]

You'll be going back to the blacksmith's once you've recovered, I assume.

[ tony breathes in, but this time he has to crawl back to the surface. it hasn't really sunk in until tonight, how much he's lost. he hasn't allowed it to. ] Uh, yeah. Maybe. [ finally, truthfully: ] I dunno.

Edited 2024-12-06 20:29 (UTC)

[ He'd assumed, perhaps, that Tony would seek out stability. The thing he'd been using to assert his independence from Lucanis, from the Crows.

Maybe more had changed tonight than he thought. ]

You don't have to decide now. Just let me know.