open: the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow boy's butt shaft

[bymyheelies]

For those that care to spend time with Mercutio; they may note that today he is conspicuously hard to find. He is still reeling from the recent news of Romeo's fate at the end of their story, and not entirely sure how to proceed with it. Ideally, at home, he would find some way to take his mind off of pressing matters: spend time with his friends (friend, now, singular) or find someone entertaining to harass about the town and make merry. If he was in a particularly snappish mood he would invariably end up picking a fight with Capulets, one in particular.

That is not the case today. Someone attuned to the general sounds of the mansion might hear a steady sort of thunking noise coming from an out-of-the-way bar. It is there that Mercutio can be found, various bottles of alcohol open at his side. He has clearly been there some time by the looks of it, and is currently engrossed in throwing a small selection of daggers at the wall. Despite his intoxication, he is doing a reasonably good job at it; but judging from the stormy look on his face, he does not entirely wish to be bothered.

Comments

[wickedwit]

“Yes, well, I find indulging men’s desires far more interesting than denying them. Unless,” Claudius allows, “it’s a matter of tension and release. Tension is terribly interesting. ‘Tis why thou so likest a fight, is’t not?”

[sagramore]

"Wherefore the feud?"

[bymyheelies]

"Oh--" He waves a hand. "'Tis lost to time. The Capulets hate the Montagues, and the Montagues hate the Capulets. Romeo was a Montague, his lady that he killed himself over is a Capulet. The man that slew me, Tybalt, was her cousin."

[sagramore]

"Oh, a stupid blood feud," Sagramore says, thinking of Gaheris, of queen Morgause beheaded, of Lamorak brought down in error.

[greentara]

"Skill does not matter if it redirects your frustration towards something more productive," Constance tells him. Knife throwing is productive, of course. She pulls a couple of the knives out of the wall and hands him two, keeping two for herself. She points at one of the notches, about eye level. "Let's both try and hit this one."

[bymyheelies]

“Ay,” he agrees, morose. “I cursed them for it.”

[sagramore]

"Well thou shouldst have. It wasn't fair for thee to be caught up in that."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs again. “I was friends with Montagues. I had chosen my side.”

[sagramore]

"What sort of choice is that?" The pancake batter sizzles on the skillet.

[bymyheelies]

"Wouldst not defend thy dearest friend's honor?"

[sagramore]

"I would and I have. That doesn't make it better."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. "'Tis interesting, ay, but I find it most entertaining with one person in specific. He is terribly easy to needle."

[bymyheelies]

"No, there are plenty that have not died here. If all you remember is going to bed, it is likely you are still alive, I would guess." He shifts his shoulders and picks up a knife to twirl in his fingers.

[wickedwit]

"Tension, like I said. History builds a certain tension, too. One of your friends in Verona?"

[bymyheelies]

He snorts. "I would not call him that. He is -- was a Capulet, sworn enemy of the house of Montague -- to which my friends belonged. He slew me."

[wickedwit]

"Ah," Claudius says, as lightly as one can be when it comes to the topic of youths killing each other. "The boy who fences by the book. I didn't realize his unspired swordsmanship had been fatal." That's a lie. Claudius guessed it, easily enough -- but it had been a sad thought, and those floated away easily under the influence of the tincture he'd taken.

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. "I could not have done otherwise."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay, well -- I had changed clothes by then." He draws in on himself a little. His death isn't his favorite topic of conversation, of course. "But I am told Romeo slew him not long after."

[sagramore]

"I realize that." At least the pancakes smell good! The kitchen is filling with the fruity scent of the cherries as they flash-cook on the pan, and the first batch will be done pretty soon.

[wickedwit]

"So thy friend took revenge for thee," Claudius says. He says it as a statement of fact, rather than with any approbation, or condemnation. It's the way these duels tend to go, without a settlement. A death for a death for another death and so on, ad infinitum.

[tallyyoungblood]

"Right. I mean, I kind of think you're alive again, also. You felt alive enough."

[bymyheelies]

"Ay. Though I expect revenge was not necessary, as -- well, my cousin had outlawed fighting in the streets anyhow." There wasn't much he could have done about that, though. He doesn't expect his father, at least, had many complaints about the death of his chaotic second son.

[bymyheelies]

"Thy pancakes smell good," he offers, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn't really want to talk about Tybalt or Romeo, after all.

[wickedwit]

Claudius rolls his eyes. "Laws don't stop fighting in the streets. Besides, revenge is personal. When the state takes justice for a friend's death, it doesn't feel quite the same way." He frowns, however, as he puts together the pieces Mercutio is setting out for him. "I suppose that law must've posed some problems for thy friend Romeo."

[sagramore]

"Ah, my thanks!" He flips one. "Are there any foods thou miss'st from Verona?"