[F1 - PP] Shut Up and Dance with Me [Alkor] (Completed)

[Lessa 1]

The inn was exceptionally loud that evening.

The music pulsed through the whole building. A few players enjoying a meal in a nearby cafe complained about the noise, and a neighboring shopkeep closed his window with a string of cuss words. Of course, none of the individuals within the inn knew any of this was transpiring. Their attention was reserved for the thudding bass, the overflowing ale, and the prospective hookups. Their laughter and conversations were only barely drowned out by the song being played over the speakers.

Though the vast majority of the players were level ones, a few higher levels dotted the crowd. Lessa was one of them. She sat at the bar, mingling with NPCs and players alike. She clasped a half-filled mug in one hand, and an empty one rest on the wood beside her.

Earlier that evening, another player had offered to give her a new top to wear. It was not unusual for men to give her things (some things never change in MMOs, it seems), but this man had been persistent. "Please take it," he had begged her. "I crafted it for someone else, but she turned me down. I'd feel better if you wore it. Besides, it matches your eyes."

So now she was outfitted in blue jeans, brown boots, and a brand new top. The front consisted of floral lace. At least I can keep with that theme, she had found herself thinking. The back was open, the loose fabric collecting in the middle of her back, and a small bow holding it all together at the base of her neck. It was not her style or her color, but the man had been right about one thing - it matched her eyes perfectly.

A little less pink than usual, the Wild Rose took another swig of ale. There had been so much pressure on her, between the guild formation and the boss fight. She just needed a night to herself, away from the judgement and the players she felt she owed herself too. She needed to be surrounded by strangers, music, and dim lighting.

[Guest]

He held Lessa in his sight for a moment on the far side of the room, sincerely uncertain whether or not he ought to approach her. He wanted his drink, and he'd thought that perhaps the first floor would have kept him away from people around his level or even higher.

Yet there she was, the one person he truly ought to have been avoiding. The boss battle had been one thing, but their recent battle had been a rather sour occasion. At least, it seemed that way on Lessa's end. Alkor had a long history of competitive gaming, and of martial arts training. "Always striving, never arriving," he muttered, reminding himself of why he had done what he had done.

And still, he felt awful. As he approached the bar, he waded past the crowd of men who had surrounded Lessa and placed a hand on the bar. "Ale," he rasped, eyeing the NPC behind the bar. "And keep them coming."

There were so many things that had been left unsaid, and in a room full of ears, he really didn't want to have it out with his guild leader. Unlike her, he was never dressed down from his battle attire, and his weapon was always at his hip. He was always ready for a fight, even when there was no remote possibility of battle. Maybe that's why people stayed on edge around him.

When the drink came, he stared down into the liquid, alone with his thoughts. The loud nature of the bar was gone, wasted on him. As he sipped his drink, he let the warmth soothe his nerves. It wasn't such a bad night after all.

[Lessa 1]

And despite all the chaos, a single voice rose above the rest. It was a voice she recognized instantly, and one that she had hoped she would not hear for a good while. Alkor. The man who had put her down like an animal in front of hundreds of people, and showed absolutely no remorse. The man who had done so knowing full well that she would do anything for him. Though she had not been able to die out there on the battlefield, she felt as if he had killed something inside of her with that final thrust of his crimson blade.

A range of emotions erupted inside of her. Sadness, at the memory of the times they had shared prior to their duel. A faint hint of happiness at seeing him again; it was almost a residual feeling, one she could not seem to shake. But pure anger won out in the end. The men surrounding her took a step back, as if they could feel the red-hot rage boiling up within her. Lessa slammed down her ale, the dark liquid riding up the side of the glass and splashing over the rim. She hardly noticed the sticky liquid as it cascaded across her hand.

"Are you serious right now?" She spat, calling over the music, and not even bothering to move to him. The two men at the bar stools between she and Alkor jumped ship, leaving only a few feet of space between them. And Alkor was probably lucky to have that space, as Lessa looked ready to throw a right hook.

[Guest]

Alkor continued to sip his ale leisurely. Nothing would get to him right now. He had his ale, and his ale was his peace. Lessa's angered growl washed over his senses and drew his attention, but he wouldn't be drawn into a fight. There was no reason for it. No reason to let his emotions get drawn into business. That's what it had been, after all. Business, never personal.

He raised his glass in her direction. "To your health," he said with a warm smile, then he tilted the flagon back and drained it into his throat before placing it back onto the table.

He could see the anger now, seething from her like a volcano of rage. And with his drink gone, so was his fragile solace. Could she really have been so upset about losing? Or was that really the problem? Was there something more than that?

Alkor hated having to think that much. "You should be enjoying your night," he said, feeling the eyes of every man in the room on him. This certainly wasn't a venue for a proper conversation. It could erupt into a very heated, very nasty fight over Lessa's "honor," or just the chance to take her on a date.

This golden eyed boy, for one, wasn't about to become party to those kinds of notions. "It's been a while," he said, taking the few steps between them to the seat right next to her. Danger zone for punches notwithstanding. He took the seat without another word. Knowing Lessa, she would have a lot to say.

[Lessa 1]

As he toasted her, her face grew another shade redder. With her left hand, she gripped the edge of the bar. And as Alkor moved closer, she squeezed. Her nails dug into the wood, leaving faint traces of her presence that the bartender would have a difficult time removing. A nearby player with shaggy red hair reached for her, but she swatted him away with her free hand. She did not need comforting. She had come here to forget him, yet here he was. What she needed was answers, some release from this anger that had been smothering her since their fight.

"You have some nerve," she shot back, her voice shaking. She was visibly upset by his being there. So much so that the line of men nearest to her found themselves taking another small step backward. "Why are you doing this, Alkor?" She clenched the bar harder. "You've come to remind me of how badly you beat me down? You want to watch me break again? Once wasn't enough for you?" The aforementioned redhead turned and took a hasty leave as Lessa bore down on Alkor.

[Guest]

"Dude," he said looking directly at her, so far beyond out of his typical character. "It's a game." It was, in that moment, evident that Alkor had cast aside all notions and conceptualizations of friendship and fairness in pursuit of his goal to become stronger, both as a person and as a player. People got hurt when they started blurring that line and taking those things to heart. Hearing that Lessa had taken it that way was more than a little disheartening.

"I didn't fight you as a friend," he continued, "I fought you as an obstacle. An opponent. Out of respect. I gave it my all, and I hope it showed you your strengths and areas where you need some work." He held a hand out to the nervous bartender, coaxing the man for a second drink. "I thought you'd do the same for me."

When the drink came, he motioned toward Lessa and for the bartender to pour her another. "On my tab," he said to the side, "and I'll cover the repairs for the table, too."

He fixed her with his glance and removed his hood, and he sighed his relief as the crowd began to disperse. Being the center of attention felt pure awful. "Look, Lessa, you can't take everything so harshly. Too much rain makes metal rusty and brittle, and it inevitably breaks, no matter how strong."

He knew she took things like that to heart, but had he known she was going to blow it that far out of proportion, he would have said something to her before the bloody fight. Now here he was getting the third degree.

[Lessa 1]

Memories of their fight against Orochi came back to her. She had accused him of feeling nothing, and he had assured her she was wrong. He did not have to show emotion to prove he felt it, he had insisted. And she, foolishly, had believed him. But now, in that first floor inn, he was proving to her that she had been right all along.

The girl closed her eyes. Her lips parted, and she drew in a long, deep breath. Then, when she opened her eyes and found his gaze once more, her voice was cold and level. "No," she told him. "You fought me like a robot, hell-bent on destroying everything in its path." Her eyes narrowed. "Even if those 'obstacles' were people who cared about you." The bartender dropped another drink in front of her, but she made no move to retrieve it. "There was no respect in that fight. There was nothing honorable about what you did to me. How you left me, and strode out like some goddamned hero."

He worked to settle her down, but it only made her angrier. The words that spilled from her lips did so with no thought. They were fueled by nothing but emotion, and their delivery revealed as much. But she just could not stop herself. "Did you really feel good about that win? Tell me, honestly. Did you feel like you had accomplished something great? Did you reach that lofty goal of yours? The one that requires you to walk all over the people who only want to see you succeed?"

[Guest]

He took the onslaught for what it was; her emotions ripped at him like the claws of a lion in a cage, but stopped just short of ever scratching his body. Alkor stared at her deadpan. "Does that feel better?" He asked her, not even mocking her with his words. There was no point in it. If he didn't return her fire, she'd just get upset. He'd learned that. Now, he stared blankly at her and took her words, but he had nothing of substance to offer her. Everything she said was a haggard argument. "Does it feel good to let it out?"

He lifted his ale and took a sip, then stared down into the amber liquid and frowned. It tasted horrible. Ale should never taste bad. That just meant he was letting this too far under his skin. He would have to mind how much of her vitriol he let get to him. Just like his mother, back home.

"Drink, damn you, I paid for that piss."

He turned back to the bar and set down his drink, eyes closing as he let out a long sigh. They could go on about that battle for days, and she could feel the pain for as long as she liked; the reality was, they would need to get over it and work back to functioning properly and fluidly as a team. SAO wasn't made for players to conflict with one another all the time. In fact, that would hurt them more than anything.

[Lessa 1]

She opened her mouth to lash him with another hot retort, but no words came. His amber eyes drilled into hers, and she could not look away until he finally broke his hold on her. She deflated as he turned away from her, her shoulders slumping and her body falling forward. Lessa exhaled, a small sob escaping with her breath, though it was barely audible. Did she feel better? Truth be told, she was not sure herself. It was as if all of the emotions that had stormed through her only seconds before had canceled each other out, and she was left feeling... empty.

He had commanded her to drink, and without a word, she did so. Putting the mug to her lips, she tilted back her head and let the brown ale run down the back of her throat. But it felt wrong. The drink that had promised to bring her a night of release felt as if it was choking her. The girl sputtered and dropped the mug back to the bar. The alcohol was wrong. The atmosphere was wrong. The situation was wrong. As the scents, the sounds, and the sights enveloped her, Lessa felt like she was being smothered. She suddenly pushed back from the bar, only to realize she had no where to go.

[Guest]

With a quickness inhuman in its nature, Alkor's hand whipped out and caught her back. "Easy," he said. "Take it easy." He looked at her with cautious, worried eyes- more emotive than he generally allowed- and ensured that she sat upright.

"You don't have to drink if you don't want to," he said suddenly, "I just... ah... you just made me think about something that upset me. I'm sorry." It was wrong of him and he knew it. There was no reason, no call for him making Lessa feel like this. He couldn't understand why she had taken everything the way she had, but he didn't mean for her to be this distraught.

The next moments of silence were his, spent staring down at the table and wondering if anything he could say would make her feel better. Fan the flames or douse them entirely- he felt like there was no middle ground, and he disliked that sensation immensely.

He let his hand stay rested there on her back, so long as she did not push it away, knowing how she felt about that kind of contact. "No hard feelings" he said, knowing it was a foolish statement. Even if he had none, she clearly did. What else could be said, though? He had no idea what the woman wanted from him.

[Lessa 1]

As his hand rest on her bare back, a wave of chills invaded her entire being. She shuddered once, then fell still. He had grown silent, and she had nothing to say to him. So she simply focused on her heavy breathing, listening to the sound of it as the air rushed in and out of her lips. Her blonde hair fell on either side of her face, shielding her from everyone in the bar, including the one man she could not bring herself to hate. And she did want to hate him. More than anything, the woman who never harbored ill-feelings toward anyone wanted to hate him with all of her being.

But some strange feeling, like the hand on her back, kept her from running from him. Some sensation stopped her every time she wanted to end things with him. It would be so easy, to demand that he never speak to her again, and to storm out of the inn. Lessa knew she had the power to cut him from the guild, and distance herself for the remainder of the game. She would find other people to fight with; she never really needed him.

That same voice that stopped her from saying something drastic now reminded her that she was lying to herself.

The woman sighed, and covered her face with her hands. And when Alkor made a comment about hard feelings, her body rocked once. It was difficult to tell if it had been a laugh or a sob that had caused the motion.

"I can't agree to that, Alkor," she told him, pulling her hands back and turning to look at him so that he could hear her over the noise. Her eyes were red, but there were no tears. "You... scared me. Badly."

[Guest]

He turned to look at her and his gaze held her in calm, stern, quiet regard. "Scared." The word sounded like venom rolling off his tongue. Every part of him wanted to decry her as a leader, laugh at her naiveté, curse her for the audacity it took to say such a thing. He knew that if he left her like that now, she would never learn the lesson he'd been trying to hammer home.

"How many times have you been in a fight with a mob? A boss? Anything?" He never broke eye contact, never wavered. "And all of those times, what did you feel? Afraid? Isn't that fear what held you back?"

He reached for his drink and lifted it to his lips. After a sip, he replaced it on the table, eyes still locked with hers. His hand fell away from her back and he let the truth of what he was saying sink in. "And all those times you've watched me fight, you've done it as an outsider. The first time you're faced with that, and you see it for what it is, you get scared? Lessa, I fight without fear because fear would hold me back."

He rose from his seat and pulled his hood back over his head. "I'll be off now," he stated, murmuring beneath the crowd. "Enjoy your drinks. If I'm guildless come morning, I won't hold it against you."

He placed the Col on the counter for everything and began to walk toward the door.

[Lessa 1]

And again, he left. Like that night on the forth floor, he turned his back to her and walked away. And again, she knew she had to stop him. It was an urge she wished she could fight, but she couldn't. There was something so final in his words, and the sight of him leaving her behind was more than she could handle. I can't hate him. Why can't I hate him?

So she leapt from he barstool, and weaved through the mass of people until she was directly behind him. Then, she grabbed his hand. When he turned back around, she dropped his hand, but caught his gaze. "I'm not scared of mobs," she told him plainly, her eyes never wavering from his. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to die, and think about what it will be like, but I don't fear them." She took a deep breath. "You are what scares me, Alkor. The thought of watching you die paralyzes me." She paused, then added, "its irrational, I know, and I'm trying to fight it." She knew that a battle-hardened man like Alkor would only laugh at her concern. But it was not something she could help.

Then, her voice grew softer. This part was clearly more difficult for her to articulate. "And in the battle, I was scared of you again. But this time, I was scared of what you had become." Again, she felt the emotions surging forward, but she shoved them back. She needed to say this, and now was the only time she could. "I was done for. You knew that. And I would have given up if you had asked me to. That battle was not worth all of this to me - it never was. Yet you continued to play with me. Do I mean so little to you?"

[Guest]

His mouth opened, then shut again at her question. It was so loaded, he was certain that given the opportunity, it would splatter his brains on the pavement. What could he say to this, the single most difficult situation she could have put him in? The very sort of question he'd hoped to avoid from the beginning.

"What do you expect me to say?" He asked at last. "I don't know where you get these notions, that I don't appreciate you because I don't act the way you're used to. That I don't respect you because I followed the rules. That I devalue you because I did something you didn't like."

He couldn't understand why she feared for him so much, or why she bothered caring as much as she did. Now, faced with the abruptness of her words and the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him- not his own, but hers- Alkor turned to look away from her. She wouldn't let him leave. Far be it for him to escape this mess.

"You're my friend, Lessa." He blew a loud, long breath out and glanced back at her. "I wanted to help you get stronger. I see now that my way doesn't work for everyone. And I apologize for that. But I won't sit here and let you act like I'm pure bloody evil because I made a mistake."

"It's just a game," he repeated, "maybe SAO itself is more than a game, but that tournament? That was definitely a game. Do you think I would have killed you if it had been for real? If this is a question of that, then you really don't think much of me, and I'm wasting breath."

He reached down for his hip and took the weapon she'd made for him in hand. Alkor held it out to her. "I don't understand any of this hostility," he said. "It's beyond me. I haven't ever dealt with this before, and it's more than I can handle right now. I want to scream, and run away, and hide from everyone forever. Why can't I do something without someone feeling I wronged them? Why can't I just be myself and not have to explain that to anyone?"

He sighed. He wasn't exploding, he wasn't coming down on her. He was just expressing feelings. Feelings she'd said moments before he did not have. "Take this," he said, "clearly, I'm not worthy of your friendship. Whatever that entails. I'm just tired. Sick and tired of trying to live up to everyone else's standards."

[Lessa 1]

"Will you stop it?" She cried back, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. It was not the most graceful rebuttle, nor was it probably the best thing that she could have said. But it was all she could think to say, and it seemed to get her point across well enough. He was shoving Nightbringer into her arms, and she reached toward it. But instead of taking the item from his grasp, she wrapped her hands around his, closing his fingers tigher around the weapon. "Just... stop. Please." She looked up at him, but did not release his hand. The music continued to scream from the speakers, and they were occasionally bumped by a dancing player. But she did not consider moving. They were there, at that moment, in that spot, for a reaon. She had to tell him how she felt.

"You're my friend too. And I know I can be pushy. But," she took a deep breath, trying to find the words she knew were inside her somewhere, "I don't know what I'm doing. I really don't. And I try to figure it out, but I keep finding myself trying to mold this world into what I know - what I'm comfortable with. I'm trying to fit you into some box to make myself feel better, and rationalize this world that I'm drowning in. So, I'm sorry for that."

The woman shook her head, unsure if any of this was making sense to him. "I'm not like you, Alkor. I can't cut down someone I care about, even if it is just a game. And so maybe I'm the one who made the mistake, because I refuse to adjust to this new way of life. When you put it like that, I am the one to blame for all of this." She quieted down, then added, "you're going to be the one to beat this game. You will do what I can't."

The last line caught her off guard, as if she surprised even herself by saying it. So she backpeddled a bit, returning to the matter at hand. "I'm sorry I was upset with you, and I'm sorry I make you uncomfortable. It was never my intention." Then, softer, "I promise."

Glancing down, she realized she was still holding his hand in her own. Lessa closed her eyes, and murmered, "so keep your damn sword. And if you go now, I won't stop you."

[Guest]

"No single person is going to beat this game," he said, slamming the blade back into its place at his hip. The motion jerked both his hands free of her grip in a single motion. Of all the places he could be touched, his hands were the worst. He felt a shiver rip through him, and the tingling sensation remained for several moments thereafter.

"Relax. We're not fighting anything. You're not fighting me. Well, the jury may be out on that." He placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed gently as he stepped passed her, back toward the bar. "I came in for a drink. Let's drink."

The dancing around them continued and Alkor likewise continued to be out of place. He sat down at the bar and held up his hand to hail another drink. He didn't like all this fighting, though Lessa seemed to gravitate toward heated, passionate outbursts, he understood why she did.

Maybe it made her feel like there was something worth feeling in this world. Maybe it helped her hold on. Alkor wasn't like that. He didn't associate swimmingly with others. He didn't do all the things that other people did. Unwittingly, she had said he did things she could not, was the things she wasn't.

"You think I'm a monster, huh?" He said at last, breaking the silence. He didn't look up at her when he did.

[Lessa 1]

As he yanked his hands free, she did the same, drawing them back as if his reaction had burned her skin. She shoved her tingling hands deep into the back pockets of her blue jeans. Then, she brought her blue eyes up to meet his amber ones, squinting slightly through the dim lighting of the inn. When he told her they were not fighting, she felt a bit of the weight disappear from her chest. This was the second time she had managed to cause a ruckus between the two of them. True, she had every reason to be furious with him for what he did to her in the Clash of Blades tournament. He had showed no restraint, no hesitation, and had put her down as if she was nothing. But he had already insisted he had treated it as a game, so perhaps she should not take it so personally. It had been a game, after all. That had been how she had approached it initially. But when she remembered lying on the ground at his feet, in a pool of her own blood, she still shuddered. She had watched him plunge Nightbringer deep into her chest, and when she had materialized in an nearby inn, she had cried for hours.

 

The girl closed her eyes to rid herself of the visual. His hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present, and she followed him willingly back to the bar. Yet another ale was plopped down before her, and this time, it went down smoothly enough. Though everything around them was loud and animated, the two Guardians sat side-by-side, sharing a mutual silence. What was he thinking? She dared a small glance his way, and saw Alkor staring down at his drink. She never had been able to figure him out. But at least he didn't leave.

 

His question made her breath catch in her throat. Lessa turned to him, eyes wide, face flushed. "Uhm," she began, mind racing to formulate a sentence that would be both true and non-confrontational. Finally, she replied, "I did think you were, yeah. I was really confused during that fight, and for a long time afterwards. But when I sit here like this, with you, its different. You're capable of such kindness." She offered him a small, crooked smile. "I don't know of any monster who would be willing to help a level one player he found laughing at some grass in a crack in the sidewalk."

[Guest]

"Well that's damn kind of you," he said as he swigged at his ale again. When his drink touched the table this time, he searched for something else to say, but found nothing. "You have a lot of conflict around you all the time," he commented, "I can't imagine being in charge of any number of people, or directing relations between entire communities."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Who'd have thought, that newbie would start a guild of her own?"

All he'd ever thought about coming into this game was getting stronger, and of being the best. Only his path to the top had deviated at all, with no thought of killing other players to get stronger and a focus on bosses and mobs that seemed tireless.

"It's weird," he commented. "I never really got used to anything, so I have nothing to get comfortable with in this game. But so many people crave familiarity... it's like they're the ones who lose themselves in Aincrad. Not the ones who fight, who see the adversity as a challenge. It's like the people who were never accepted are the ones who survive."

[Lessa 1]

The woman gave a snort of humorless laughter, rocking her mug back and forth. Blue eyes followed the ale as it splashed along the rim. "That was one of the worst decisions I ever made, you know," she commented, not looking at him. "Starting my own guild, I mean." She took a long drink, then let the glass fall back to the bar with a dull thud. "I love the people, but I am not fit to lead. I can hardly manage myself, let alone a handful of other players."

Lessa reached up with her left hand, rubbing at her temple with her middle and pointer fingers. "I created the Guardians for all the wrong reasons." Another drink, then, "I wanted the camaraderie. I wanted to surround myself with good people, and feel part of something." The woman gave Alkor a nod. "I wanted that familiarity you speak so highly of."

Shoulders rose and fell as she heaved a sigh. "Instead, I'm meant to take a leadership role in a boss fight. I have no idea what I'm doing," Lessa drawled, placing extra emphasis on the 'no.' She drained the last of her ale, and grabbed for the other a player had purchased her earlier that night.

[Guest]

"It can't be that bad," he laughed. "You love people, and you're good at barking orders."

Alkor rarely joked, so when he did, it felt more antagonistic than he really intended; still, as he sipped at his ale, he watched Lessa react sourly at the very thought of being a leader. "You chose that path," he told her, "so live with it. It's that easy."

He'd chosen the path of a fighter, quiet and driven, doling out massive amounts of damage from the back. That way, no one could question the way he decided to do things. As a damage dealer, he was solely relied on for taking down the boss. His duty was not to protect anyone directly, or coordinate anything. He didn't want to be directly responsible for anyone.

It made things easier when it came down to the wire.