Ready, Set, Go! Part II (Stefan & Brenner)

[Brenner Dornkirk]

3rd of Glade, 121 Steel

"Figure of speech!" Brenner clarified with a chuckle, "Your baby only bounces in the right places." He blinked at how that came out, "That sounded filthy. I'm a horrible uncle objectifying my niece so." He shook his head, laughing, and finished his first stein with a series of deep gulps.

"Yeah, I actually used the rocket pack to surprise Eitan on his ship one night when we were in a formation." Brenner felt like he'd told that story the prior evening now that he was mentioning it, but that might have just been an overly literal dream.

Brenner laughed aloud when Stefan asked about Eitan's sisters. Their father had relentlessly tried to marry Stefan off to one of the Angevin sisters for years, before Dornkirk fortunes surpassed those of the prestigious, older dynasty.

"I can't speak to whether he has any half-sisters on his Elfy side. I doubt even he can, but I'm sure at least one of his human half-sisters remains eligible- though whether or not they're submissive sans Elfin-influence, I know not." He started in on the next draught, as Stefan started in on his next thought.

"In truth, I think our campaigns are too short and too shortsighted. There's a whole world of danger just beyond the borders of our realm- to say nothing of that which stalks within. As long as corrupting influences are suffered to subsist on the outside, they will always impact life inside our borders. Which is why I think our borders should expand." He smirked, "Our Fatherland could take a few more lessons from our Motherland." Brenner posited,

"And Karnor should be a unified nation under Zaichaeri oversight- human oversight." The Air Commander downed the rest of his beer, and rose. He wobbled a bit, effected more than usual by his imbibing, because of how quickly he had to down his beers to keep up with Stefan. He took a breath, which cleared his head a bit, and made for the stairs and out through the crowd to the streets without.

"We'll see if anyplace I know around here is still open." He said, pondering a moment, before turning right. "Oh! I wonder if that one tavern is still open... The Godless Temple? Or did that get shut down in one of the Mage Raids?" People got up to all manner of trouble in The Godless Temple, so it was no surprise it drew an eclectic crowd and often ended its nights in chaos surrounded by the constabulary.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The perked brow of previously rose significantly higher.

"Fate send that I repeat our parents and have only sons!" But he was laughing as they made their way down and out. Eitan had been mentioned the night before, but Stefan too had been drinking and also thinking about his prototype.

"Ah well, I'd rather have a pure human girl anyway. At least I know the family, their habits, and temperament. Not a publishing empire but you said I could toss that duty to you anyway."

"I would support a campaign to expand our borders, even if it took you away for longer. The world needs to be made safe again. If I had time ahead to know where you were traveling I could design a few things to help protect you, and our ship too." He began contemplating gear specific to each of the wild regions surrounding Zaichaer, getting lost in his thoughts until the name of a new pub was mentioned.

"It isn't even midnight yet, and its the new year! Most places should be open." He glances around, hearing snippets of multiple songs coming from different directions.

"The Godless Temple? I've read of the place in the broadsheets, more than once. Mother would be horrified. Lead on." He gestured forward, even though he wasn't sure which way they would be heading. He was certainly tipsy, but not beyond, not having trouble thinking or walking. "I do believe it was shut down in a raid, also, more than once. Let's hope that, if such is the case this night, the Recons will recognize the heroic brothers Dornkirk and let us go on our way."

He threw his arm around his brother's shoulders and followed where he led.

The Godless Temple was, as advertised, a seedy, lowlife establishment with rowdy music escaping reluctantly from its door every time it was opened to allow a patron in or out. Stefan pulled his coat closed over his vest, making him appear at least mildly less ostentatious as they entered the bar. No one looked up, at least, not officially, but Stefan could tell he was being seen, and judged. He smiled pleasantly. It was a welcome relief to exist under the open indifference of the lower levels of society. It didn't set his anxiety off as the veiled dislike and pretense of appreciation he got in high society.

Bellying up to the bar and laying both hands flat on it he glanced over at Brenner, unsure what to order unless it was another ale. "What are you going to pour down me, Brynn?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner chuckled and clarified,

"I didn't mean 'Still open for the night', I meant 'Still open after how long it's been since I've haunted this neighbourhood.' This is more your part of town than mine, anymore." Though, now that he was in the lead, Brenner was making a lazy path at a casual pace in the general direction of the airfield.

"I never took you to the Godless Temple?!" Brenner exasperated. "Bah, I suppose that is a cogent possibility. I only used to ever go in the wee hours after the regular pubs closed, and by the time I got there things were... Something of a blur." He smiled to himself at the memories, murky though they were. He didn't have many specific memories of the venue, only shards and images of inebriated moments of fun, and a few of embarrassment potent enough to pierce through the nebulous veil of his erstwhile drunkenness.

"I used to pop in there in my academy days, but I guess you were never with us... Odd." His rebellious phase hadn't been long-lived and, after breaking curfew one too many times, even Sylana's indulgence for Brenner wore thin and he was grounded for a spell. He hadn't been back since.

"The old girl hasn't changed a trice." He announced as he crossed the threshold into the dive, grinning broadly as the nebulous memories sharpened into keener sight thus faced with the reality of the place. There was an outdated map of the city in an archaic style painted across the length of the long wall opposite the bar.

He quickly scanned the room for familiar faces and he found none apart from the same, surly old bristle-chinned barkeep who'd overserved a teenage Brenner many times in another decade. Smiling, Brenner approached the man and found an unexpected glimmer of recognition.

"Bryan?" The man furrowed his brow.

"It's Brenner, actually..." The Air Commander corrected.

"Mm. You used to go by Bryan. I never forget a customer..."

"Oh, well, I'm-..." Brenner halted as the barkeep held up a finger to silence the interruption.

"You didn't let me finish." The barkeep continued, "I never forget a customer I had to kick out of the place."

"Oh..." Brenner could seem to remember one of those shards of embarrassment might have wound up with him being booted out into the cold, after trying to steal a mug for no apparent reason. Probably a dare...

"Don't worry, lad. The statute of limitations is up on attempted petty purloinery. Especially since you look like you have more money now- What'll it be for you and your mate?"

"Brother, actually. This is Stefan."

"Bryan and Steve. Got it. I'm Gormund. What'll it be?"

"Ohhh..." Brenner looked at Stefan, squinted long and hard and decided, "Whiskey sounds good."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stephan merely shook his head in answer to the question, content to let his brother's conversation wash over him, wash away the cares his life was made of outside the bubble of two they made. He did smirk at the memories of, very drunk, years-younger Brenner and his binge-drinking phase during their time at the Academy.

"I tended to duck out and go back to the dorms before someone started throwing up on my shoes. Unlike some of my fellow students, I actually wanted to be awake and mostly sober for the math classes they held first thing in the morning."

There had been one particularly memorable incident when Sylana had walked in on Brenner drunk enough, in his mid-teen years, that he hadn't recognized her and had flirted outrageously. He recalled the memory to his brother as they walked toward the den of ill-repute.

"I think that was the only time I've ever seen Mother seriously consider hitting you herself." He ended the story with a chuckle, knowing Brenner was unlikely to remember much except that he'd been grounded indefinitely thereafter.

Dive was a good word for the establishment and Stephan was glad he'd worn his most comfortably worn coat over his finery. The conversation with the bartender was as amusing as it was interesting. The man seemed to be well versed in the art of discretion, which could be useful in any number of circumstances, Stephan would have to remember this establishment. Nodding his head to the use of his newly-given moniker, he was game for whatever, as promised.

His face lit up a bit at the mention of whiskey. It wouldn't be anything like what they'd been drinking in Brenner's rooms the night before, he was sure, and that was part of the fun. It was always a surprise what you might get when out with his brother. The bartender poured for them both, places the tumblers down on the bar with little care to what might spill on the already well-wetted bartop.

Taking the shot, which burned fiercely and took his breath for a moment, Stephan waved his hand and the barkeep, who was still standing with the bottle in hand, gave him a look that questioned his judgment but refilled the glasses before moving off.

Most of the tables were full so it seemed that leaning against the high bar was where they would stay for the moment. Closer to more alcohol seemed wise anyway.

"So, what is all this about going by another name? Were you truly worried out mother might turn you over her knee if she found out the pride of her heart was slumming it with the locals?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Blech. If you keep bringing up maths, I'll challenge your aversion to vomit on your shoes." Brenner declared, sticking his tongue out as if reacting to a bad taste.

"Well." He huffed, "To be fair, I'd done more than drinking on that particular occasion. I don't know what fell witchcraft is coursing through white basilisk root, but it's surely something no good Zaichaeri should partake of." He wrinkled his nose, blushing at what remained of his memory of that incident. Most of what he recalled was, of course, the aftermath which was imprinted on his mind like the antithesis of his base ship- A searing failure.

"Bottoms up, Steve." Brenner raised his glass and shot the first pour of whiskey and nodded in agreement as Stefan gestured for a second round. He took the glass and held it in front of him- close enough to his chest that the closeness of the other bar patrons wouldn't threaten any spillage, as he turned to lean his back against the bar. He shook his head, chuckling.

"I didn't go by another name, Stef." He glanced over his shoulder, "Gormund is famously abysmal with names. At this point, I honestly don't know if it's a real problem or some kind of bit he's really committed to. Maybe both. Whatever the case, you can bet he has a misnomer for every regular customer who haunts this joint." He shot back the whiskey, and placed the glass on the bartop behind him.

"Anyway, don't judge me, Steve. You're the smart, angsty one, and I'm the dashing charmer. I didn't write the dramatis personae, I just abide by it. You could've slummed it with me back then, but good on you for making it up now that we're elderly."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stephan's eyes sparkled in amusement and he was just inebriated enough to wrap Brenner's shoulders in one of his arms and muss his hair with the other hand in response to having a tongue stuck out at him. It was something he's done often when they'd been children but not much recently.

"I accepted long ago that your talents lay in action, not maths, have no fear." The memory of the incident added color to the younger man's face which amused Stephan to no end.

The room was very full, more so than Stephan had realized, and the brothers were soon pressed side to side. It seemed wise to just leave his arm about Brenner's shoulders so they could continue to drink comfortably.

The second shot passed no more gently than the first and he made a face, his mask beginning to crack.

"Emperor's tits, this is awful." He gestured to the bartender for a third round without bothering to stop grimacing over the taste of the second. "I can see why young 'Bryan' got himself into such trouble frequenting fine establishments such as this."

He listened to the explanation of the bartender's use of nom de plumes then postulated,

"Mayhaps the good bartender prefers the comfort of plausible deniability. As I, myself, no doubt will, come morning." The third drink arrived along with an odd look from the swiller of ill who had, it seemed, overheard Stephan's words. He tried not to feel abashed, he was a gentleman and had no reason to feel ashamed of his commentary on the lower classes. He was also fairly sure the lower classes currently present would happily put a knife through his expensive waistcoat and leave him in an alley at a nod from the man serving the alcohol, so he tipped outrageously, which seemed to put the humor back into the situation.

Turning his attention back to the man under his arm he looked him over. There was color from drink high on Brenner's exceptional cheekbones and his eyes were bright, probably from more of the same.

"You take me to the nicest places." Steph teased, although, in other ways, he did mean it.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner guffawed at Stefan's harsh (albeit spot on) critique of the whiskey.

"It is, isn't it?!" The younger Dornkirk was starting to feel a bit giddy. The company, the surroundings and, yes, the abysmal booze. He kept pace with Stefan's drinking regimen, and nodded thoughtfully.

"You know, that never occurred to me... Probably because I've never been here when I've had all my wits about me. By the Empty Throne, if I had my wits about me I'd never come here at all." He chuckled, lifting his shot glass, "But it's sound reasoning. If I were the proprietor of this place I certainly wouldn't want to be responsible for the seedy clientele... Present company included." He said, eying Stefan up and down playfully, then putting his arm around his waist to nestle more easily into position with an arm over his shoulders.

Brenner glanced to Gormund with a nod and a grunt as another drink was placed before him. He was amused to note Stefan's reaction to being caught, and chuckled accordingly as the hand that wasn't resting on Stefan's hipbone reached for the third shot.

"Only the slummiest for you, brother mine." He said tipping his head and his glass toward the elder Dornkirk, before shooting the whiskey down.

"Uffa!" He grimaced and stuck his tongue out, holding the glass up and glaring at it as if it was responsible for its erstwhile contents. "That was somehow worse. I think he's punishing us for your elitism, Steve. Good job." He shook his head, and placed the empty glass back down with an aftershock shiver from the searing swallow of whiskey he'd taken moments earlier.

"Are you still keen on seeing Madame tonight?"

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stephan nodded gravely, looked down at his brother, and said,

"Is there ever a situation in which you have gathered all three together in one place?" He sounded curious and as though he doubted it. He wasn't prone to teasing his brother in public. The brothers tended to present a united front for the world, and they usually were united in all that mattered. But somehow, despite being crowded in on all sides, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the flotsam of the city emptying their pockets to fill their throats, he felt like they were alone.

They weren't in any society they needed to put on a face or a show for, at least, which was basically the same thing.

As they settled comfortably, side pressed to side, Stephan grinned, waiting to be bantered back at. Brenner always gave as good as he got. Actually, he usually gave better than he got, being by far the quicker of them to a clever quip. Stephen figured his years in the military had sharpened his brother's wit in equal measure to his aim with a firearm.

His mind came up with half a dozen exceedingly inappropriate jokes based around the word 'seedy', all of which, even as drunk as he was, were rejected soundly. He was still a gentleman, regardless of the space he occupied or its inhabitants. Also, Brenner would have teased him endlessly.

Taking the next drink just a moment after Brenner he was surprised to realize that he was growing used to the taste. He laughed at the face and talk of punishment though. Leaning close to be heard he spoke into the hair just above Brynn's ear,

"It's only fair that you share in my punishment for once, after all the times I shared in yours."

Stephan had never been one to let Brenner stand alone against the wrath of either parents or teachers if he could help it. He had discovered, quite young, that standing outside a room where Brenner was being hurt or screamed at was far worse than being in the room taking a share of either thrashing or tongue-lashing. The few times the younger Dornkirk had managed to get into trouble entirely without Stephan being aware he had been waiting to comfort (when they were very young) or listen to the enraged ranting that followed. His intention had been to give his brother an outlet but often had felt that it was he who needed the comfort. It somehow felt like a failure, even when he'd been entirely unaware before the fact.

He unconsciously used the arm around Brenner's shoulders to pull him closer in a minute hug. The time they got to spend together seemed to grow less with every year that passed and it now felt precious. With his impending marriage and the likelihood of Brenner being given his own command in the not-too-distant future, it felt like they'd only see each other on Winter holidays, like estranged cousins coming to family gatherings.

The idea made him feel at once nauseated and like he might cry. He had reached the maudlin stage of his drunkenness.

Realizing this he shook his head and affected a smile. When he heard Brenner's question his expression went quizzical, if also more genuinely amused.

"I didn't cancel our appointment, if that's what you're asking. Why? Do you think dear Gormund's excellent whiskey has rendered you incapable?" He glanced down at the lap of the man under his arm so his meaning was clear. His tight control over his speech was starting to slip and he sounded more like Brenner in both manner and accent.

Looking up he realized that Gormund was, yet again, standing right across the bar top to hear himself being referenced. The slightest hint of color rose high on Stephan's cheeks but he recovered by clearing his throat, pulling a handful of coins from his pocket, and laying them on the counter without counting them. Gormund took them, also without counting them, and offered no change. Stephan considered this entirely fair.

"Come on, it's damned hot in here." Without removing his arm he began to steer them back toward the door.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Oh, often!" Brenner grinned, "But I save the full wit triumvirate for important dignitaries and so forth. Around you, I only ever use the one to make sure you can keep up." He offered with an exaggerated, saccharine grin and a big, theatrical wink.

"Very well, brother." He said taking up another punitive rotgut shot, "I shall play the whipping boy for you, if it makes you feel appreciated. I won't shirk the lick of the lash or the liquor, if it takes some of the heat off of you." He explained with a pat to Stefan's back with his free hand as his other tipped the glass back and sent a shot of caustic fire down his gullet. He flicked his tongue out and groaned in response, shaking his head.

"I think the old boy's still operational." Brenner said, glancing down to his own lap and furrowing his brow. "I know you're at that age where one starts worrying about such things, but I've got to say I've just never had that problem..." This was entirely bravado. In truth, Brenner had had very few sexual experiences outside of their occasional joint brotherly brothel visits. Moreover, what experiences he'd had in Stefan's absence were unpredictable at best and indeed he'd very much had 'that problem' in many such instances.

"Hm?" Brenner lifted his head to regard Stefan- nodding, as he urged another change of venue. He peeled himself away from the bar, and followed the older Dornkirk out into the crisp evening air once more.

"If your issue is with the heat, do you really think the brothel is going to be any cooler?" He wrinkled his nose, "If it is, we should frankly get our money back..." He trailed off, watching his bootfalls and finding he'd reached that point of inebriation, where his feet felt like independent agents making their own way as the rest of him was just along for the ride.

He chuckled at nothing in particular, and began to hum an old Gelerian drinking song unwittingly stepping to the beat.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stephan laughed, enjoying the cut of his brother's wit too much for there to be any sting to it.

"Oh, how kind, brother. I'm sure you reserve the triumvirate for those occasions in which you drink heavily with all the air commanders. You wouldn't want to forget yourself and tup one of their daughters, after all." He was sure that any number of the commanders' daughters would be thrilled to have Brynn hike their frilled skirts up about their waists, but a gentleman didn't say such things.

Stephan was beginning to seriously doubt his credentials as a gentleman after the thoughts that had been running through his head this evening. The talk of whipping boys did something in Stephan's head, or, perhaps lower down. It wasn't that he liked imagining Brenner being beaten, far from it. Nor did he enjoy the idea of beating someone else, unless it was a fair fight and that had nothing to do with the heat pooling languidly, low in his belly. He didn't even enjoy the thought of being in pain himself.

It was something else. Something he never quite got a good grasp on. He tried, for a moment, but then Brenner was talking and he forgot again.

Stephan didn't bother to glance down at his own lap, as he, in fact, never had that problem. This was due to no exceptional prowess, only that he never sought out sexual intercourse. His sexual education, aside from the lessons taught in anatomy classes, had begun when the brothers had been dragged to their first brothel by over-enthusiastic classmates. He had risen to the challenge at the time, despite great discomfort, partly due to the skill of the whore, partly due to his barely-post-pubescent body, and partly because Brenner had been there to dull some of the fear. Since leaving school his encounters with others had happened only when Brenner was there. He told himself, when he wasn't up to thinking too much, that the encounters were to keep his brother entertained. But he knew that a part of him craved it too. The idea of seeking out a willing body when he was on his own was all but repulsive, yet, when he was with someone he trusted and cared for, it was nice. More than nice.

Aside from those rare encounters, Stephan had mated only his own hand, and only when the urge to do so became pervasive. He hoped that he would be able to develop a close enough relationship with whatever wife he ended up with that their mating could grow to be comfortable for him.

Once they made it outside Stephan glanced around trying to remember exactly where they were in terms of the city. His own footsteps were still mostly steady, and where they were not having Brynn tucked under his arm balanced him nicely.

"Shall we take a cab? Or would you prefer to be a long walk closer to sober before we are required to greet Madam?" It was several miles, perhaps three, to the well-to-do establishment, and knowing they were both capable of such a walk did not mean either of them would enjoy it.