(1866-10-18) Brothers up in arms
Brothers up in arms
Summary: Cassius and Devon Volstak meet again after a longer break
Date: 18-10-1866
Related: none
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Devon  Cassius  

Firebrand Inn
Room description
IC date of RP

It's been months since Cassius has seen Devon last - perhaps a half dozen or more. Regardless of whether or not this is a bad thing, it is only now put into perspective for the siblings. The older Volstak male is looking travel-weary, he's freshly bathed and has thrown on good quality, formal attire… and yet he looks like he's still stiff from the hours atop horseback riding here.
Sat in the corner, the knight is leaning over one of the many tankard of ales and bowls of stew that the inn is serving in bulk. Spooning the meaty mixture into his mouth, he's distracted enough by the hum-drum of the interior that he doesn't immediately notice Cassius' presence.

Cassius Volstak has been staying at the Cassomir Manse long enough and frequently enough to be known in Firen - and considered a regular at the inn. As so often he barges into the inn accompanied by two other squires around his own age, all of them being typical noisy male teenagers, trying to impress each other by acting super manly. Not that the innkeeper buys their act, but he does serve them the ale they request and they look around for a table.
Cassius' gaze drifts around, fastens upon the young blonde man in the corner and fixes upon him for a few seconds. The squire seems to be freezing up, then suddenly gives his friend an almighty shove to get them moving towards the other end of the inn.

Being boisterous automatically gets Devon's attention and so though he doesn't immediately realise who it is, Cassius is recognised when he's started his flight to the other end of the room. There's an amused smile on the older brother's face and he simply observes, waiting until the moment when the squire glances back. It's a clear locking of eyes and then a harmless wave, greeting the young man.
Soon enough he resumes with his stew, the bowl nearly empty anyway and so the food is promptly consumed. When he pushes it aside, he reaches out for the cheap looking cloth and wipes his fingers and mouth before rising. The knight moves slowly, walking with an unhurried pace toward his brother and associates. "Lord Cassius, what a delight to see you - it has been too long, has it not?" The formality is with a warped facetiousness at best.

Cassius' face flushes when his brother suddenly approaches and he offers him a sullen look, dosed with hostility. "Is it indeed, my good Ser?", he asks, voice heavy with irony, the 'Ser' almost spit out, "What the fuck brings you to Firen? Probably some great noble heroics?!"
"You know the guy?", his friend inquires curiously and Cassius wrinkles his nose. "Kinda.", is all he offers.

Devon parks his rear on the edge of a neighbouring table, unused and unfilled. A dangerous prospect considering he may settle there shortly, much to Cassius' chagrin. "The people, their kind welcomes, their constant concern with what the 'fuck' I'm doing here," is jested in answer. "That's partly why, anyway. I had heard that the radiant Viscountess Elaine Volstak would be here." Turning his gaze to the other, he smiles openly at them - far from hostile but perhaps sarcastic in its own right.
The fact that Devon wears the Volstak crest atop his doublet might soon register with Cassius' friends but in the mean time the game is continued. "My noble heroics have been minimal of late but what of yours, young squire?"

"Her name is Elaine Cassomir.", Cassius points out almost gleefully, then reaches for his ale to chug down what's left in the mug. Obviously needed. "My heroics are none of your concern.", he then adds sourly, "Though of course whatever I do can never measure up to the great deeds of my fabulous brothers."
The penny finally drops for the other squires who had crown increasingly confused at the barbed exchange. "Ooo!", one of the exclaims at last, "I see, he's 'one of them cunts', yea?", he asks Cassius curiously and the youngest Volstak pulls a face. "Yea, he's Little Cunt. Dunno where Big Cunt is. Where's Aaron?", he turns back to Devon.

Devon waves a hand almost nonchalantly, as if his mistake over Elaine's new name isn't even a thing. "To some, maybe." The bravery-cum-stupidity of Cassius' associates cause Devon to smirk, staring down at the one who spoke. "I take it you make a habit of insulting folk hoping that you might have a gauntlet thrown at your boot, hm?" Upstart nobility perhaps, Devon nevertheless rarely gets upset by the formality of his title— but he finds an excuse here. "Do excuse me, I will need to vacate you from this seat so I might speak with my brother about family matters - since he's asking." A heavy hand is applied to the back of one, threatening to tip the fellow out. "I'm sure you understand."

The fellow, let's call him Bob, frowns darkly when Devon lays claim to his seat. "You fuck off, mate.", Bob protests and tries to shrug the hand off, "Ain't leaving this seat for Ser Little Cunt." This makes the third one, let's call him Jim, chuckle loudly.
"Lads.", Cassius tries to stop them from starting a physical fight. "You stay were you are, yea? Ain't nobody taking your seat, not even him." He glares at Devon again and gestures with his head towards the door. "Let's go outside, yea?"

Devon has his hand atop the back of that chair, ready to begin that retaliation that would ultimately end in a brawl. When Cassius offers to head out to have that chat, the appeal is clear. "That might be for the best," concurs the older Volstak, his glance back to the squires measuring them closely - spying who they are, if anyone of import. With a slow breath, he releases any tension and moves toward the door out, swinging by the bar to pay up for his meal and drink.

Cassius buys another mug of ale at the bar before following his brother outside. "They'd have kicked yer arse into next week.", he informs him with a smirk and leans against a nearby fence where guests of the inn can tie their horses. "So what did ya want with me?"

Devon pushes open the door from the inn and stops not far from the entrance, taking in a heavy breath. "I had expected better of you, Cassius - you're hanging around with morons— sure, two morons who might win in a fight against one man, but morons all the same." Crossing his arms, Devon looks Cassius over curiously. "I've not seen you in over half a year, what do you think I want? To find out how you are, what's going on with you, Elaine, Firen in general. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well, I'm used to hanging out with morons, yea? Just like at home.", Cassius sneers, looking annoyed, "If you think you can turn up here and comment and pass judgement, you can fuck right back off to where you came. I'm fine, Elaine is fine, Firen's fucking splendid, okay? Go and be a hero somewhere else!", he grumbles.

Devon shakes his head a marginal amount, his patience already being tried. "What is your problem? I am not trying to rub anything in your face I just want to get a few words out of you that aren't barbed or whining about something." Looking down the street for a moment, he gauges his thoughts before saying, "You're working on your knighthood, that's great - how's that going?"

Cassius seems to relent a little bit - or at least doesn't snipe back immediately. "My problem?", he finally says, still a bit cranky, "My problem's that no matter how hard I try and how well I do, I'll always just be the little brother. So excuse me if I can do without your awesome knightly presence here in Firen. Although I suppose Elaine might be glad to see you.", he adds, perhaps trying for a conciliatory tone. Maybe.

"Get shitty with Aaron, not me, I am barely a knight myself. I'm only going to hold it over your head when you're being a brat— so don't be a brat." Rolling his shoulders slowly, he then moves to lean against the fence not far from Cassius. "I'll try to back off and not judge, if that helps— but I'll fail at some point. Just stop expecting me to be out for you always, alright?"

Cassius glares at him. "Oh, how generous of you.", he replies scornfully, "Of course, dearest brother, I shall not try to be a brat in your magnificent presence." His voice is dripping with irony. Then he points vaguely into one direction. "The Cassomir Manse is that way, if you want to see Elaine. Now excuse me, I have nicer faces to look at than your stupid mug." He begins to turn back to the entrance of the inn.

Devon snorts a little but barely gets many more words out before his brother is storming off. "Alright, I'll go see her— try not to get punched in the face by anyone due to your attitude, alright?" With a resigned sigh, Devon moves to untie his horse for the ride down the way.

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