[PP - F2] Flying Too Close to the Sun [Icarus]

[Lessa 1]

"What are you even doing up here? Don't you see that this is the second floor? You must be lost."

"Look at that starter gear. Gross. Go back to the first floor, with all the other babies. You'll die up here."

A clap of cold, dark laughter, and then, "might be better for all of us if you do die, actually. You would just hold people like us back. I bet you can't even draw your weapon?"

"Do you know what your weapon is, little baby?"

That was enough. Expelling a soft sigh of held breath and pent-up annoyance, the blonde stood from the bench. From only a few feet away, she had heard every word of their disgusting exchange. It had only grown more despicable, further fueling her frustration. Perhaps she would have been willing to let their actions slide had they not elevated to talk of self worth and death. Death always would be a sore spot with her. With the groan and clink of her heavy armor, Lessa strode up to the small party.

"Gentlemen," she greeted cooly, her tone indicating that she thought the two players were anything but. The men looked a bit like the stereotypical forty-something-in-his-mom's-basement. Poorly managed patches of facial hair dotted their faces and necks, and their heavy set forms were covered by gear only a step above basic. Pot and kettle, she mused with some amusement, considering their equipment was only slightly better than their victim's.

The player in question was of the much smaller, much more feminine variety. She was young, surely no older than the eleven or twelve year-olds that Lessa used to teach. Brunette ringlets framed her flushed face as she stared up at Lessa. The two men stared as well, and all three gazes danced with fear. Rarely did she ever use her level as an intimidation factor, but this particular situation called for something a little unique.

"I'm disappointed in you both," she continued, watching their eyes flitter between her Azure Brigade symbol, her Unique sword, and her heavy armor. "If you really were the caliber of player you claim to be, I would hope that you'd be a bit more respectful of our younger crowd."

"It's not like that-" one man began to stutter, but she silenced him with a wave of her gauntleted hand.

"I don't particularly care what it is or isn't like," came her retort. "You two have a lot of growing up to do. Now go, but know that if I hear about you preying on lower level players again, you won't be getting off so easily."

There was nothing more for the men to say, and even if there had been, they did not stick around long enough to share it. As the pair scrambled off, Lessa turned back to the girl, a soft smile splitting her previously hard features. "Are you okay?" she whispered. But much to her surprise and dismay, the tiny player turned and sprinted off the other direction in a flurry of brown curls. Lessa could only watch her go, her jaw working as she reflected on yet another poor social experience. Once, these interactions had been her forte. That was a long time ago.

Edited February 16, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

"Punctual as ever, Icarus," an old man standing beside a wagon commented; the wooden construct overfilled with fruits and vegetables from a local farm. "One day I'm going to show up and you and that blue hair aren't going to be waiting for me.  That's the day I know the world has really gone to hell."

Before the farmer's stall stood the aforementioned man who bore the same name as the mythological son of Daedalus.  Despite being over six feet tall, Icarus didn't look terribly imposing; the simple set of not-so-fashionable starter clothes hanging on his body did well to conceal the athletic build appropriate to a man his size lurking beneath the plain fabrics.  That wasn't the true tell of his gentle nature, however; it was his eyes.  A brilliant green, reminiscent of a grassy field on a summer day and as clear as a fresh cut emerald, that had a look about them as if they had never been clouded by anger a day in his life.

"That day might be coming sooner than you think, Kyoshiro," Icarus responded, his words sounding a little distracted as his attention was pulled elsewhere.

There was a scene playing out down the road just loud enough for anyone nearby to overhear.  This particular play involved two grown antagonists picking on a young woman, verbally assaulting her with threats and insults that in no way could be considered jesting, all of which was reflected in the still colors of his calm eyes.  As the performance played out, he found his fingers gripping a little tighter to the sturdy edges framing the crate of vegetables within his grasp while a slow boil of contained ire started bubbling to the surface.  It was clear that these two weren't going to stop until they found the satisfaction they were stretching for.

Someone needed to step in.

"Will you watch these for me, please?  I'll be back in a moment," Icarus said quietly to the farmer, who nodded confirmation in return.

Icarus was no more than a few long legged paces away from the stall when someone did step in.  A woman with long, blonde hair intervened and with commanding authority, quickly dealt with the two men and had them on their way, scampering away like two ashamed dogs with their tails between their legs.  He had overheard her words to them; she had talked down to them like a mother, unleashing her fabled "I'm not mad at you, I'm just disappointed" speech.  It proved to be most effective.  Surprisingly, witnessing the exchange had painted the curve of a soft smile onto the corners of his lips which wasn't a strange occurrence by itself, other than the fact that this particular smile was genuine.  Soon after, the young girl fled the scene as well, leaving the unknown champion to stand solemnly upon the spot of her victory without so much as recognition for her help.

That just wouldn't do.  Icarus didn't have many interactions with adventurers aside from his usual dealings on the first floor and those usually left much to be desired.  This woman--she seemed different. He approached the woman from the side, as to not creep upon her from out of her vision, and stopped once there was no more than a few yards separating them.  At this distance, he could clearly see the fine craftsmanship of her armor and the particularly enchanting sword nestled at her hip; he immediately understood why the two scoundrels were so intimidated by her.

"One would say, you have a way with words."  His voice was soft; his words gently spoken and bearing no inflection of sarcasm or anything else that would indicate he was speaking anything other than the truth.  There was a momentary pause for the blonde woman to familiarize with his appearance before he spoke again.  "The girl may not have thanked you but I will.  It's refreshing to see someone standing up for a stranger, especially this far down in the depths of Aincrad where the little people are mostly forgotten."

Edited February 16, 2016 by Icarus

[Lessa 1]

The stranger's presence surprised her, and his words, even more so. Her response slipped, startled, past her lips before she could comprehend the gravity of what was said. "Someone had to do it. Those guys were terrible." It was a simple declaration, and one that came with little thought, but weren't the most genuine of statements shared in this manner? Only seconds later, however, the ex-Guardian checked herself. She knew nothing of the man with whom she now spoke, and that was reason enough to return to her more reserved default. What if the two of them did not get along? Or, perhaps worse yet, what if they did?

Blue eyes swept over the stranger's figure, starting with his similarly colored hair. He was tall. He was also a bit older than she was, but it was difficult to estimate just how much. It had been years since she had really worried much about things like ages and birthdays. Come to think of it, she figured that she'd probably missed her own at least once since donning the nerve gear. The man was also very green. He had been in the game for as long as she had, true, but he lacked the scars that Aincrad left upon its victims. His eyes were wide, his smile was easy. He was alive in a way she had not been in a long while, and it worked to both comfort and unnerve her.

"No thanks needed," she added finally, returning her gaze to his. Her expression was difficult to read, as her emotions were equally questionable. But her words were delivered with a soft sincerity. "But I appreciate it anyway."

[Icarus 0]

That tender smile broke into a wide, toothy grin just before a laugh escaped his throat.  In the same moment, Icarus raised his hand to shroud his split mouth from the girl standing before him, not revealing it again until his laughter had died out.  Her words were honest and to the point and he couldn't fault the blonde for that.  More importantly, in his eyes, she was right.

"You're absolutely right, they were terrible.  I'm just glad I didn't have to do it; I don't think it would have ended well for me."

When she turned to face him, he was allowed to take in the full of her.  He hadn't noticed it before but she appeared to be younger than him, which was surprising giving the tact and eloquence she exhibited when handling the situation moments before.  She was petite yet held her stance like she was always on guard; a warrior's pose.  Also, as it was the case with most of the people he had encountered in Aincrad, she was beautiful. With long, flowing blonde hair, eyes as blue as the heavens above, and a well-rounded face, recognizing her obvious beauty was the easiest thing he would do all day.

The feeling in the air shifted as her expression seemed to harden.  She was reserved and based on what he knew of other adventurers, there was likely a good reason for her reservations.  Anything more than that, was a wonder to him. This girl was not one of the many, many books lining his shelves at home, whose pages were tattered and warp from years of returned reading.  No, she was a fresh mystery and he couldn't even crack the cover.

"Either way, thank you."

There was a pause where he studied her for a moment longer before he extended his hand for a handshake.

"My name is Icarus.  It is a pleasure to meet you, miss..?"

[Lessa 1]

For the first time in a long time, the faintest ghost of a true smile danced across her lips. It was small trace of amusement that lit her blue eyes, but having not experienced it for quite some time, it was quite the change of pace. "Icarus," she repeated, enjoying the sensation of the familiar name rolling from her tongue. "Like the Bastille song." Then, as her happiness turned a bit sheepish, she added, "or the figure from Greek Mythology, I guess." Sure, she knew the story of Icarus, but the name filled her mind with Dan Smith's crooning before anything else. She had been fortunate enough to see the band live, just before Sword Art Online was released, in a small bar in Lansing. She remembered the pounding of the speakers, the hard lemonade her friends had smuggled in, and the excitement of seeing the band don Michigan State University sweatshirts. This thought did not fill her with nauseating nostalgia, despite being from a time long past. On the contrary, the memory was one she had nearly forgotten, and the sudden discovery of it was a bit like finding a wadded up bill in the pocket of your old jeans. Returning to the present, the woman found that her smile had grown - just a bit, but grown nonetheless.

With a practiced flick of her wrist, she called up her menu, which appeared with the familiar chime of bells. A few motions later, she had unequipped her gauntlets. Only then did she press her palm to his, grasping his hand in the sturdy shake her farmer father had taught her a lifetime ago. All around them streamed other players, many of them lower leveled, all of them with schedules of their own. Most moved quickly, and spoke loudly. But for the moment, the girl once known as the Wild Rose ignored them completely, giving the blue-haired boy her full attention. "My name is Lessa."

Edited February 17, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

To say he was caught off-guard would be an understatement.  It wasn't common for one to know of Bastille, let alone derive that they were the inspiration behind the online handle for which he was now known by.  The coincidence left his hand bearing semblance of a cold, dead fish when she took it within her own hand, though his deliberation lasted only for the moment it took for his awe to wash away before he reciprocated the firm handshake Lessa bestowed upon him.  She had quite the grip.

"Icarus is flying towards an early grave," he commented solemnly.  The hint of his smile still resonating on his lips.  "I saw them in Berlin when I was younger.  Little did I know how fitting the song would become once this game turned into a dangerous prison.  The name also serves as a reminder to keep grounded at all times--to not chase the sun, as it were."

His emerald eyes searched her face and found that growing smile.  Was this normal for her?  Or was this sign of happiness something that was slowly becoming more foreign as time within Aincrad passed?  The thoughts swirling within the recesses of his mind seemed to have quieted quite a bit in those simple moments confined within their held hands, as if the world had suddenly become a whole lot smaller than it truly was.  Of course, such treats were always fleeting and before he knew it, the noise and commotion of everyday life came seeping back in being.  Steadily, Icarus released his grip upon Lessa's hand and retrieved his own.

"Well, Lessa, forgive me if I've taken up your time; I'm sure you have business to attend to if you've come all the way to the Second Floor.  I'm just glad to know that there are souls like you wandering the upper floors.  Many of the other frontliners that I've come across could use a little bit of that light you're carrying with you."

The smile upon his lips widened, though it was difficult for even him to tell whether it was wholeheartedly genuine or not.  He had grown so accustomed to smiling in life without feeling it, that he occasionally found himself doing it without realizing.  Icarus raised his hand in a gesture of goodbye as he backpedaled a few squared steps; he did not want to keep someone of her level idle with his mundane musings when she likely had other places to be.

"Take care on your adventures."

[Lessa 1]

There was a haunting truth to his statement about Icarus' lesson. Back home, Alyssa Butler had spent plenty of time pressing her limits, or flying too high, if you will. She was competitive, and inspired by her parents' advice to never stop challenging herself, the blonde chased the sun more often than she would care to admit. Of course, back then, it had all been a game. Even for the first couple of months within Aincrad, everything had felt like just another challenge to her. Another hurdle to leap, another puzzle to piece together. Back then, she had expected to be free in a matter of months. Back then, she had been dangerously naive.

No, now it was better to stay grounded, just as her new acquaintance had suggested. Take no unnecessary risks, prepare for all things, and expect the worst. The thought tightened the ever-present knot in her stomach. She was jaded, even she would admit it. But maybe that was that state of mind that would save her in the end. Stay grounded. Don't fly too close to the sun.

The Brigadier shook her head, her golden locks slipping over her shoulder, and sprawling across her sun-kissed breastplate. "You're not keeping me," she countered gently, doing her best to nonchalantly wipe her damp palm on her skirt after Icarus released it. When was the last time that she had shaken someone's hand, or made any real form of physical contact? "I spend quite a bit of time on the lower floors, helping out where I'm needed," and hiding from the people I left at the top. 

This thought drew attention to a comment that had nearly passed unnoticed. Her eyes widened with the realization, and then narrowed slightly with suspicion. "What makes you think I'm a frontliner?"

Edited February 17, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

The backward shuffling of his feet slowly eased until he was once again standing still and facing Lessa, albeit a few feet further apart now.  He stood tall and rigid; his unrelenting posture almost too perfected which was acceptable giving the nature of his proper upbringing.  He wondered momentarily on her words.  Given their shared predisposition to helping the lower floors, how had he not already run into her after all this time?  Perhaps he had seen her in passing and simply was too busy to register the occurrence.  Worse yet, perhaps she was lying to him.

Given the little he knew about Lessa, he chose to believe in the former.  Life was chaotic in the beginning, when nothing but uncertainty and fear rampantly flooded the minds and actions of the newly ensnared captives of Kayaba; it was perfectly plausible that their paths had crossed at one point or another.  As her eyes narrowed upon him, he gave no reaction.  Her implication of suspicion went unnoticed by him simply because he had nothing to hide.  His comments had no ulterior motive or hidden meaning, they simply were the sentiments he was trying to convey.

"You.." he started but paused as he tried to formulate a proper response that didn't seem too invasive.  Icarus was used to being pointed with his words when it came to family but always tried to be cordial to strangers.  His etiquette was on point but his tongue was just as sharp and sometimes his observations were allowed to let slip without a second thought to the fallout that might occur.

You seem protected by more than just armor.  It was better to let his first assessment die out, he decided.

"You have this aura of assertiveness about you that not many of those still lingering on the beginning floors carry.  You didn't hesitate in the slightest when it came to dealing with those men before.  You saw the trouble, you intervened, you diffused the situation."  His bold hands were pulled up his sides just enough to find the holes of his pockets before they were shoved into their comforting confines.

Icarus offered a half shrug and a warming smile before continuing on.

"Judging by the way those curs fled, I'd say you had more than just a few levels on them.  Either way, I shouldn't make assumptions like that; I know there are some people that don't wish to be associated with those leading the charge."

Edited February 17, 2016 by Icarus

[Lessa 1]

His answer, she decided after a moment of silence, was satisfactory. The words were straightforward, and delivered with sincerity that was clear in his tone and in his jade gaze. Yes, his comment was misguided, but it was by no means an intentional lie, and she could detect no ill-intentions. As such, she proceeded carefully, plucking her words with great thought, so not to offend him. She also did not wish to portray herself as condescending. To talk down to the lower leveled player would make her no better than the brutes she had run off only moments before.

"I appreciate that," she assured him, "though, to be fair, that's not necessarily a trait of a frontliner." She struggled to keep some of the venom from creeping into her tone, yet it was easy to visualize the particular players as she continued. "I know plenty of frontliners who would do nothing, or worse, be the culprit in a situation like this. I'd love to think that the frontliners are the heroes most make them out to be, and in many cases, they are. But... that isn't always the case." Recalling the last bit of his response, she added, "maybe you know something about that."

Lessa paused, her lips pursed, her mind quickly replaying the words she had just presented Icrarus. She had either painted herself as a bitter ex-frontliner, or perhaps even worse, a judgmental non-frontliner who spoke of something she did not understand. Neither was overly pleasant, and the blue-eyed girl found herself surprised by how much his perception of her suddenly mattered.

"Regardless," she concluded, reaching up to rub at the bridge of her nose as she glanced away from him, "I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time today."

[Icarus 0]

The mood of their conversation seemed to hit something of a sour spot.  Icarus could feel the lingering tension as the time between Lessa's responses increased, more than likely from searching for a deliberate choice of wording.  He, too, often did something of the sort when he was actively working not to offend someone.  Either way, he didn't want it to seem like he was labeling the girl and pigeonhole her into a role based on his limited experiences with frontliners.  Or in this case, supposed frontliners.

As she continued through her words, he nodded appropriately.  He was an attentive listener, that much was certain.  You almost needed to be when you were the quiet one among a family of six, two of which were chatty, gossiping younger sisters.  Icarus' luminous green eyes flickered from left to right rapidly as they studied over the side of her face when she looked away at the tail end of her comment.  There was more he could have said to her on the topic of headstrong frontliners and their distaste for low levels, especially when he considered how recent the last of his run ins had been but truthfully, he didn't want to dwell on such a detrimental topic.

Icarus let a pause in at the conclusion of that discussion to signify its end, nodding in acknowledgement to Lessa's "right time, right place" comment. The dark blue-haired man couldn't argue that point; the woman was right.  Soon after, though, an almost boyish curled to the right side of his mouth and exposed just a hint of the dimple hidden there.

"Well then, Lessa, all I have left to ask is.."  A deliberate pause.  "Beer or wine?"

He could imagine there might be some confusion to his open ended question, so he quickly continued on to elaborate.  His voice remaining cheerful and not at all downtrodden from their last subject matter.

"As in, what can I treat you to in the tavern down the road?  A tall, dark lager, perhaps? A frosty pale ale, maybe?  Chardonnay?  Cabernet?  Where I come from, it's customary to celebrate new friendships over a drink."  Unless I'm reaching too far?  The last part, he intentionally chose to leave out.

[Lessa 1]

"Huh?" The breathy response slipped past before she could stop it. She had allowed herself to grow consumed by the darkness of the topic at hand, the dark storm of frustration, regret, and other equally negative emotions unsettling the seas within her blue eyes. She had begun to slip back inside herself, one of the few places that she had found any sliver of solace over the past twelve months. The discussion had turned back to the frontliners, as it always did. "You're powerful," they'd say to her. "Why aren't you on the frontlines? Why aren't you helping those people? Are you scared? Are you afraid that you might die?" No, she would think, but not say. I am afraid of who else might die.

But his comment had washed over her like a breath of fresh air, a cool breeze to extinguish the embers before they could ignite something worse within her. Lessa studied him, lips parted in mute surprise, blonde brows knit in confusion. He had just asked to buy her a drink, if she had heard him correctly. Icarus was not the first player to make such an offer, but she could not remember such strange timing in the past.

Whatever his goal, he had succeeded in defusing the bomb. The lines disappeared from her forehead as her expression softened. "Tequila," she replied bluntly, the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips once more. "But I'd settle for beer. Wine just doesn't do it for me these days."

Edited February 19, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

As the expression of her manifested inner struggle dissipated and a smile was born again in its place, Icarus swelled with his own personal pride.  In a world like Aincrad, which was filled with mostly hard feelings and despair, it wasn't often that one's efforts to turn a frown away were rewarded.  If he had contributed at all in smothering the smoldering fires of anger burning inside of Lessa, then he was happy.  There were already too many dark souls wandering about the floating castle.

"Tequila?  No, no, no," he said with a quiet laugh and dismissive wave of his hand.  "That sounds like trouble.  A couple shots of that and your company will be an empty bar stool because I would be on the floor."  Icarus then extended his active hand in the direction of the tavern he had mentioned before, allowing Lessa to take the first step before he would file in along side her.  His pace was deliberately slow to balance out the stretch of his long legs in comparison to his companion's much smaller step.  "You're right, though.  Wine is.. for drinking at a nice dinner.  Beer is for relaxing after a long day of work or maybe when you're just socializing with your friends.  Tequila, though, whew - I don't even know."

Work was something he was unfamiliar with outside of Aincrad but he understood the appeal of a cold one after an honest day of labor, which must have been a sentiment shared by the stumbling man who wobbled out of the tavern just as they finalized their approach.  Icarus simply stepped to the side to avoid his inebriated listing and stretched to catch the heavy wooden door before it came to a complete close, where he held it open for Lessa to slip into the establishment without running risk of the door hitting her before she could make it in.

By the look he was able to steal when he craned his head beyond the edge of the door, the tavern looked busy.  The bar counter was mostly filled; the bar stools lined up and down with mug-laden patrons conversing to the people seated next to them.  Unoccupied tables were sparse but if you didn't mind waiting at a dirty top for it to be cleaned off of empty steins, there were places to sit.  Other than that, there was maybe a booth lurking somewhere in the back that wasn't packed with players.

"Well, this is surprising," he said lowly, mostly to vocalize his own revelation.  His hand - well, fingers mostly - came to touch Lessa lightly upon the curve of her shoulder in an effort to get her attention over the calamity of the loud conversations taking place.  "Care to find a seat while I speak with the bartender?  Do you have any preference?  Ale, pilsner, lager - whatever they have?"  Icarus forgot that this was a game based in an entirely different country from the one he had been raised in.  It was entirely possible that they didn't carry any of the fine crafts he would be able to procure in Geilund and the two of them would be stuck drinking complete swill.  Whoops.

[Lessa 1]

A soft chuckle escaped her as the blue-eyed warrior shook her head. So her new acquaintance could not handle his alcohol. That might be something to keep in mind, and potentially tease him about later were the two of them to grow any closer. But for now, she simply stored the mental note away; her recently acquired ability to drink anyone else under the table probably was not something to be proud of. She might brag about it later, but now certainly was not the time. 

Would they get to know each other any better? Based on the young man's invitation to join him at the bar, and the ease with which he directed her around suggested he was willing. Perhaps even eager, though that could possibly be wishful thinking. It had been such a long time since she had truly dedicated time to learning more about someone. Once, these introductions had been what she lived for, but a year later, she found herself fumbling. Whoever said this was like riding a bike, she thought to herself as she eased under Icarus' arm. Would it all come back to her in the end?

In general, Lessa preferred to drink in relative peace. Her usual haunts consisted of taverns off the well-beaten path, and even when she was aiding players on lower floors, she needed the quiet when her work was over. As such, the state of the bar she walked into struck her a bit like an oncoming train. It was well lit, a far cry from the dim hole-in-the-walls she had grown accustomed to. It was also absolutely crawling with other players. Men and women of various skill levels, armor types, and apparent states of being crammed into the mid-sized room. Many were perched atop bar stools, nursing drinks in a rainbow of colors out of clear tankards. Others occupied every single seat that she could see during his initial sweep. Had she not been so startled by his fingertips against her skin, she may have made a comment about how difficult finding a seat might be. Instead, she simply answered, "whatever they have." Then, with a slight nod, she drifted away to find a seat.

Her final destination, after a moment of searching, was a small table in the corner. Flanked by a dusty window on one side, and a cold, unlit fireplace on the other, it was by no means the most desirable spot. Even the furniture seemed a bit pitiful - chunks cut from the table's wooden top by various weapons being tossed upon it, and rickety chairs that threatened to topple beneath anyone's weight. But it was the best that she could do, and so she claimed the space by unceremoniously plopping into the chair before anyone else could.

[Icarus 0]

In response to her reply, he nodded and then headed off to weave and squeeze his way through the standing crowd and occupied tables impeding his way to the bar counter.  After what seemed like an eternity of uttering "Excuse me" and "Sorry, just passing through," Icarus made it to the countertop.  Judging by the way the solid wood surface shined with a dull glow underneath the lamplight hanging above his head, it was easy to assume that it was recently wiped down which he immediately proved to be fact when he leaned his long sleeve covered elbows onto the damp bar.  A minor look of annoyance flashed over his strong features but vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.  Soon after, he signaled to the bartender who was currently on the other end of the bar, washing mugs and glasses in a tub of soapy water.

"Afternoon," Icarus greeted the man cordially as he made his approach.  The bartender finished wiping up his hands upon the cloth of his apron before inquiring what the tall buck with blue hair wanted.  They conversed among themselves about the limited selection of beers and despite the barkeep's rough demeanor and lack of pleasantries, he was pretty knowledgeable about his inventory and how it compared to what one would find back in the real world.  Finally, at the end of their discussion, Icarus raised his hand and extended two fingers to indicate the number of beers he'd be walking away with; a pleased look and a grateful smile written all over his face.  The bearded man on the opposite side of the counter nodded and immediately fetched two tall mugs from out of view, then proceeded to fill those identical vessels to the brim with a liquid the color of a red leaf in autumn.  Either the man had immaculate perception or the game assisted in the filling process because their order came out looking picture perfect.

The transaction took place and while his pockets might have been lessened some Col, he felt comfortable he was about to partake in a good product.  It took him a minute or two after he left the bar to find Lessa considering the sheer amount of people he had to scavenge through before he found her but after he did so, it wasn't long before he was sliding up to the table and placing the frosted mug of chilled alcohol directly in front of her.  Icarus moved to take his seat but as soon as he sat in his chair, it shifted underneath the mass of his weight and threatened to buckle.  As calm as he tried to be, there was certainly a moment of reaction there where he thought the chair was about to break beneath him.  When it proved him wrong, an amused little "whew" slipped out past his lips.

"Lessa, I present to you, something reminiscent of an irish red ale.  I don't remember the exact name the bartender gave for it but all the same.  I regret that it isn't something closer to a German lager but I think we'll make do."  He smiled warmly to her as he focused his steely emerald gaze upon her face.  His hand bearing the beer-filled mug was lifted from the table and raised out toward the girl sitting opposite of him.  "Cheers!"

Icarus pulled his mug back after his celebratory gesture and drew it to the curve of his mouth, where it opened to willingly accept the nectar of hops and roasted barley.  A satisfied "ahh" naturally followed his consumption of the beer, along with the ritual smacking of lips tailing something tasty.  Not too bad, he approved inwardly.  Barring the occasional sips from his mug, he retired to leaning back in the not-so-comfort of his damaged chair and looking upon his blonde-haired companion with active interest.  "So, Lessa, other than picking apart the local bullies, what do you like to do?  Tell me a little about yourself."

[Lessa 1]

Her companion planted the drink on the table before her. For a few seconds, she merely watched the dark liquid slosh about inside the chilled mug. But when Icarus scooped up his glass and held it out to her, she mimicked his movements. "Cheers," she echoed, though with slightly less enthusiasm. By the time she brought the cup to her lips, droplets of the beer that had escaped over the glass' rim raced down her bare skin, criss-crossing each other across her hand, and leaving sticky trails in their wake. Without thinking, she would wipe her hand on her leggings a moment later.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she took her first swig of the alcohol. It was a taste that she was unaccustomed to. Perhaps Icarus' choice of an Irish red ale was to blame for that. In truth, Alyssa had never cared for beer. But over the course of the past year, Lessa had found herself drinking quite a bit of it. It was cheap and easy, and she could normally just as the bartender for whatever he had. The man seated opposite of her clearly demonstrated more knowledge of alcohol than she possessed. Silently, she added that to the ever-growing list of things that she had learned about him. True, he had not spoke much, but he had already revealed quite a bit. A bit of an open book, she thought to herself. It was a relief to meet someone who was not so reserved. So late in the game, people such as Icarus were rare finds.

Lessa was lifting the cup to her mouth once more when he delivered his question. She paused just long enough to whistle softly, before taking another drink and replacing the tankard on the table. "That's a loaded question," she replied finally, though not unkindly. The blonde did not wish to give off the impression that Icarus was being too nosey, as she found that she was actually enjoying their exchanges thus far. But his question truly did open many doors, some of which preferred stay closed. "Well, I guess it depends on what you want to know. I'm a blacksmith here, but I haven't made anything in over a year. I belong to the Azure Brigade, but I'm not sure how much longer I'll stay. I'm a level twenty eight, but I don't do much on the upper floors." But but but, she thought suddenly. I'm being complicated.

Edited February 24, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

It had been a long moment since he had taken a sip from his mug but as much as he loved the taste of a fine brew, he was not a flagrant drinker.  Most of his alcohol consumption was done on social occasions, such as this one.  His father, as good of a man as he was, was not very kind when he had consumed more than he should have and Icarus wasn't very keen on finding out if that trait ran in the family.  While she drank, he passively observed, watching her movements through those warm green eyes, from how she wiped the back of her hand against her clothing rather than grabbing a towel, to the pauses that came when he asked questions that she might not be accustomed to.

Icarus nodded as Lessa ran through a list of items that did a little to expand upon his idea that she was reserved but for a reason. She hadn't made anything in a year.  Lack of motivation, perhaps?  She belonged to a guild but might not be staying on much longer.  Trouble in the ranks?  With leadership?  Level twenty eight but distances herself from the other high level players.  That one is.. curious. What happened to you, Lessa?  "I wouldn't say it's a loaded question, it's just a question.  I have no objective other than getting to know you, Lessa, so I guess the question is as loaded as you want it to be.  The world is - hmm," he didn't know quite how to word the rest of his thought.  "It's interesting to me.  You are interesting to me.  Here you are: a stalwart young beauty with a sharp sense of justice and I'm the proverbial farm boy, intrigued by a life so different than my own."  

"If you prefer, I could always wait until I happen across the next pretty faced adventurer to focus my attention on."  Icarus shrugged his shoulders in a non-nonchalant manner that suggested his last comment was in jest; a sly smile prevalent on his lips.

Edited February 24, 2016 by Icarus

[Lessa 1]

The girl gave a small shrug. "Loaded in the sense that it could have a lot of possible answers," she countered gently. "Or that you could be expecting something in particular. I don't spend a whole lot of time talking about myself these days, so I guess I wasn't really sure what you wanted to hear."

He mentioned that he found her interesting, which was a fact that had little effect on her. A number of other players had told her the same, at one point or another. And perhaps it was her recently acquired paranoia, but she briefly found herself trying to figure out what it was that Icarus had to gain by interviewing her this way. She took another drink from her frosted mug, regarding the boy over the rim as she did so. It was not until his mention of being a farm boy that her attention snapped elsewhere. Proverbial farm boy, she reminded herself sternly, but she had his interest nonetheless. Did the man know anything about growing up on a farm? Would he be interested in hearing stories of the farm that she called home? No, most likely not.

His final comment, though surely delivered as a joke, was received as something of a challenge. If she could not keep him entertained, then he would move on to the next woman he came across. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly. So be it. "You give me too much credit," she finally continued, with a wave of the hand that did not cup her beer. "Right place, right time, remember? But what about you, proverbial farm boy? How did you end up in a place like this?"

Edited February 25, 2016 by Lessa

[Icarus 0]

It wasn't often that Icarus came across someone else that could match wits with him.  Usually, his only company was either children, nuns, or farmers at the market; none of which really had the time or patience to sit down and banter with him.  That being said - he restrained himself in his words.  He grew up being the eldest of four high class, spoiled children and what they lacked in roughhousing, they made up in vocabulary.  The most of their fighting was done in sharp tongued quips aimed to demoralize the other into submission, although Icarus was not above using his superior size to throw one of his younger siblings around when they got on his nerves; he never really had time for their little games.  So, while it was his every intention to get to know the new face that was Lessa, he had to consciously make a decision not to say things that could be construed as as teasing or mean.

For the most part, anyway.

"How did I end up in a place like this? I -" he closed his eyes momentarily and drew his hand to his forehead, rubbing it quickly before opening his eyes again and looking at Lessa with an incredulous look.  "I mean, I asked you here.  No more than ten minutes ago, you know?"  Of course, an earnest smile was twisting his lips; a faint showing of whitened teeth beneath.

Icarus' expression seemed to sober up after that, however.

"I'm just here to help out the Church on the first floor.  There was a lot of chaos in the beginning, when everyone found out they were trapped.  I'm sure you remember."  Icarus shrugged lightly at his admission.  His fingers toyed around the outer edge of his mug, not really gripping onto it but unwilling to let it out of its touch.  "They needed someone to run errands for them and help create the foundation of their sanctuary.  I guess I just lost track of time and before I knew it, everyone was level twenty eight, thirty, forty while I'm still - well, at the beginning."  Icarus' words were not bitter in the slightest.  It was the decision that he made at the start to help out those less fortunate and he stuck with it.  Everyone had their place in Aincrad and his was just that.

"But things are better now.  There are more players helping and the Church is becoming more and more self-sufficient.  The time for me to make my own way in this world is soon.  No one really knows when, or if, we'll get out of here so I figure it's in my best interest to make the most of it.  A virtual life is better than no life at all, hm?"  A gentle smile formed on his lips and remained there as he looked up from the rim of his mug to meet Lessa's gaze.

[Lessa 1]

Like a fish out of water, her mouth first opened, and then closed again. Of course, she had meant how he had arrived in Aincrad, but he knew that, didn't he? Her eyes narrowed further, though this time equal parts surprise, amusement, and approval. "Touche," she quipped. I set myself up for that one.

As he continued his tale, the blonde settled herself deeper into her seat - cautiously, of course, so not to break it - and crossed her arms gently across her breastplate. Her mug rest, either half full or half empty, on the table before her. The taste, though her not her favorite by any stretch of the imagination, was bearable. Lessa would have the tankard emptied by the time she left the inn, partially out of respect for her companion, and partially because she left no good drink behind. But for now, she was content to simply listen, nodding occasionally, and listening in for any mention of that farm.

Once the man concluded his short story, she felt a snide comment dancing on the tip of her tongue. A regular Mother Teresa, the angrier corners of her mind hissed. But her lips did not part, and she put no voice to her thoughts; in truth, she found herself impressed by Icarus' tale. He had made the best of a bad situation by helping others. Haven't you been doing the same? "You're handling the situation pretty well," she finally mused aloud, her tone dotted with both admiration and suspicion. "Being stuck here, I mean. It is nice to see that you've kept that optimism." Has this Hell given you reason to lose it yet? "That's admirable."

[Icarus 0]

"It's not optimism.  It was just the better of two choices; either I fight, or I die," Icarus said bluntly.  He didn't want to give Lessa the impression that he was okay with everything that had transpired in Aincrad and he was satisfied with just living away his life trapped in this game.  "This world is a Hell.  A beautiful Hell but a Hell nonetheless. Taking countless people and rounding them up in a prison where one exit is through death and the other is through unimaginable adversity is unforgivable.  I hold nothing but contempt for Kayaba and want nothing more than to be free of his game.  Though, as it were, you could say - I'm just too stubborn to take the easy way out."

His words were bitter and left a similar taste on the tip of his tongue, one which he was eager to mask with a heavy drink from his mug of ale.  He did so, taking the tankard within both of his large hands and drawing it to his mouth for a long, flowing drag of red amber drink.  Calmed, he set the mug back on the chipped surface of the table gently before his emerald eyes retired to staring at the scars that marred the wooden top.  Icarus' thoughts momentarily overwhelmed him but with a soft sigh, he looked up from the table, focusing in on the depths of Lessa's endless blue eyes and the expression she wore on her smooth face.

"So I'll fight - and I'll fight, and fight, and fight until either the game puts me in the ground or it sets me free."

Icarus huffed with realization.  It was as if saying the words had set his commitment in stone, which kind of made this occasion monumental.  Well, monumental for him, at least. A half smile rode to the right side of his mouth, where a single finger was lifted to scratch at the partial dimple that was exposed.

"I guess that makes this the last night before I throw myself into the fray.  A pretty girl, good conversation and a fine ale - not too bad of a send off, I'll admit."