[Open Post] Feeling more like himself...

[silvereyedphage]

He couldn't completely give himself a clean bill of health: the burns still need to be dressed twice a day, but they're healing better than he expected, given their severity. The stab wound has finally healed over, though he's likely to have a scar on his back for the rest of his life, however long that ends up being. He credits this to Belize's

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[dontcallmeser]

Sandor is...looking for someone. However, he doesn't know their name, or what they look like other than 'like a pirate, with an eyepatch' or even - well, nothing. This makes him angry. But it would make him a lot angrier if Sophie got in trouble because she happened to approach the wrong dangerous man.

Like you're not a wrong dangerous man, part of him mutters, but he studiously ignores it. She does, after all.

He might stumble across Muraki, though, a hulking, burn-scarred bruiser of a man looking like Hulk-smashing something, and if Muraki is wearing his eyepatch...he pauses.

[silvereyedphage]

Perhaps fortunately for Muraki, this day he has his glass eye inserted, though he does have that tell-tale heavy fringe of hair falling over his right eye to cover the fact that the eye doesn't always fit in properly and that the iris isn't quite the same shade of grey as his left eye nor does the pupil change size with the lighting.

However, spotting Sandor and noting those scars causes him to wince just a little, with something vaguely resembling empathy. He's learned what it's like to be burned, but he's counting his blessings that his own injuries aren't so visible, except to whomever shares his bed. He's likely a shade shorter than Sandor, but considerably smaller-built.

"Are you looking for something?" he asks, politely.

[dontcallmeser]

Yeah, Sandor says, you are lucky. Playing with fire is a good way to get dead. Or looking like me. However, he is distracted in his broody lack of clear evidence by being spoken to.

He resists the urge to snap. "Yeah. Could say that. Someone, anyway. Like looking for a needle in a haystack in this damn house."

Look at all those words! Go Sandor.

[silvereyedphage]

"Well, I can't claim to know everyone in this house, but perhaps I can be of some assistance?" he offers, deferentially. Careful around this one, he could probably snap me in two, he can't help thinking.

[scionofkushiel]

Melisande wants to seeeee you, Muraki.

She may be found, whenever he first enters the main room, lounging casually, much as he met her. And she smiles, at her first glimpse of him. "My lord," she murmurs, eyelids lowering in a false display of the demure. "You look...much recovered from when I saw you last. I could not be more...pleased."

[silvereyedphage]

Since he met one of Melisande's countrywomen, Muraki has been somewhat anticipating crossing paths with Melisande again, and he approaches her almost eagerly. "Milady, your very presence is balm to the wounds that remain," he says, approaching and kneeling at her side to kiss her hand.

[scionofkushiel]

She smiles down at him, all benevolence, except for where she's not. "And your voice is soothing to my nerves. I'm pleased that you have healed so quickly." She laughs, a little, strokes his jawline, if he allows. "You look very...elegant."

[silvereyedphage]

He leans into that touch, closing his eyes and emitting a low rumble of pleasure, deep in his throat. "I can credit that fast recovery to the inflow of energy I've been slowly absorbing from my young victim, whom you helped me to snare," he says. Lowering his voice, he asks, "Have you happened to cross paths with Shilo Wallace recently? I have not seen her, but I can sense her pain and her confusion: the taste of both sensations is heady, like a fine wine accompanying a good meal..."

[skewedeyes]

We thought they should meet. Or the typist did, anyway. Felix is a little less in favor of it. But it said he was affable?

So! Pretty redheaded man, currently holding a book and running long, bone-white fingers through his thick hair, wandering into the room, frowning at the pages. He seems rather haphazardly dressed, but perhaps it is charming. Certainly, he's a very tall and spindly figure, his eyes brilliantly skewed yellow and blue, and arms where they are visible under too short sleeves brightly tattooed.

[silvereyedphage]

Now here is a very singular-looking young man: Muraki has never seen heterochromia like that before and he's seen Yakuza gangsters with less ink. But he's still impressed by the sight and even moreso by the young man's looks: he stops himself from licking his lips thoughtfully, in case the youngster should spot that gesture.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help noticing that remarkable inkwork on your arms," he says. "Is that your own design?"

Creepy-funny icon, but I loves it...

[skewedeyes]

It would...do really funny things to Felix. If he did notice. Because that's the kind of gesture Malkar might make, and while it's been a long time...much of him never forgets.

He blinks, slightly, and looks up, turning. And then nearly seems amused. "My own design? No...well, pieces of it are mine. But the majority - marks me as Cabaline, and is...old tradition."

[silvereyedphage]

"It's remarkably well-done," he says, admiringly, then looks up at Felix, managing to mask any obvious interest behind polite deference. "Cabaline... now if you don't mind my curiosity, is that a tribe or a tradition of, shall we call it, the esoteric arts?" he asks.

[emocaliban]

I know I dropped...but typist thought they should meet again.

Cal's been nervous lately, though he couldn't say why. Perhaps there is no why. Maybe he's just nervous. All the same, though...he keeps his gun close, and one eye over his shoulder. Some of his feelings are pretty good.

However, the feeling when coming across this one isn't quite so nice. Even if there is a little bit of a sensation of like knowing like. Perhaps because of that.

"Hey," he says, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "You're not dead. Good job."

Second try, due to HTML wonkiness, likely human error...

[silvereyedphage]

Hee, quite all right: I was hoping they'd meet again someday

There's precious little in any worlds he's crossed that Muraki is afraid of. This young man is one those few things, and while the man might be quietly pleased to make Cal's acquaintance, it's a cover for the fact that the phage has now run screaming into a far corner of it's host's hypothalamus.

He chuckles, gently, even pleasantly, taking that jab in stride. "I was in bad shape when we met, but fortunately, a young gentleman patched me up; the rest was in the hands of nature and my own vigilance," he says. "I didn't get your name that first day, though I suppose it was no situation for pleasantries."

[emocaliban]

Caliban has no idea of that, and is currently watching Muraki with some of his usual wariness but more...considering. He can't quite help it, with the something that echoes to some inner piece of him he really wishes didn't exist, but...

After all, why judge by feeling alone? Instincts aren't infallible.

But they're pretty good.

"Yeah, I did notice that," Cal drawls. "Kind of hard to miss. Fast recovery, though." He pauses, a second, and then shakes his head. "Caliban. Is my name, I mean." He's gotten out of the habit of aliases. After all, the people who need to know names to fuck you over may well see through that lie.

[silvereyedphage]

"I heal fairly quickly, but that seems to be part of my constitution," he says, casually, even with a faint smile. "I'm Muraki," he adds, bowing his head deferentially, though his inner self is now starting to whimper, begging him to cut the conversation as short as possible.

[league_mascot]

Armand visits the porch, just hoping for some fresh air, and sees the pale man. He remembers how injured the man had been before, and his apparent improvement cheers him. "Oh hello, doctor. I see you're feeling better."

[silvereyedphage]

He looks up from jotting in his journal and closes the book with one hand. "It's a miracle what plenty of rest, good food, careful tending of one's injuries and patience can do in two months," he says, with a gentle laugh. "I'm not quite the picture of health, but I'm much closer to it than I was that first time that we met. And how have you been, Monsieur Armand?"

[league_mascot]

"Well enough," Armand answers happily. "My sister and I found a new brother." "What were you working on there?"

[silvereyedphage]

The mention of finding a new sibling almost awakens some of his worst memories from his youth, but he keeps that to himself and manages to push them aside. "That must be a cause for rejoicing," he says. "I still haven't met your sister, but perhaps I shall in time.

He glances at the journal. "Ah, this? I was merely jotting a few observations about this realm: since I've had so much time on my hands, I've been forming various theories about the nature of this place and how it seems to attract so many different people from so many varied times and places." It wasn't the only thing he was jotting, but it was one of the topics on which he'd taken down notes.