Hah. Fate is a frigid bitch, as they say.

[ There is no humor in his laugh, just something icy and dull.

The question drags him into quiet, emotions swirling viciously as he churns that sentence over and over in his head for a few moments. This was not something he had wanted to share, but apparently, it has come up anyway. ]

...He got me out. [ Of the basement, he means- although he neglects to mention what Mishka was doing there in the first place. ] I didn't know why, but he did all the same. But we only made it so far before he showed up again, and I was hardly in any state to do something about it.

[ The glass is placed in front of him again, freshly filled, and he tugs it closer to peer into it again. ]

So he did. Shanked him to a wall, despite how much his people worship that bloody creature. [ He finds his face pinching again, grip tightening as the memory surfaces, ever-fresh. ] Those born of Koshevek territory are mired in poison their whole lives, the very land from the water to the soil turning them vile and monstrous from the inside out. Some lose themselves, and others can hold themselves together, if but barely. He is the latter.

[ A pause. ]

But he let go. It is nothing short of a death sentence of the self, as both your mind and body are gone to become something else. That is what he did, and that is what he means. [ The thought sparks his fury and the sharp pinpricks in his chest, teeth grinding. ] Despite having no say in the matter, it is apparently my fault he made that decision.

[ What a way to look at it. He can hardly say he thinks the same now, all the vitriol and dismissal tossed his way tainting the memory of it. Perhaps that's for the better, in some way, but it doesn't make it any less bitter to the tongue.

He doesn't answer the question for a moment, opting to take another sip of wine ( that does nothing, he finds on a sour note. it isn't particularly strong, and it's ever harder for him to feel it now ). When he puts it down, it's with a quiet, deathly look on his face. ]

I never craved his death. Not strongly. [ An avoidance, in a way, but not untrue- they can come to blades before, and as Mishka has surely thought the same of him, he'd also contemplated the need to kill the other before. For himself, for what they were doing.

There was a sort of grim acceptance, but he would rather not have, if given the opportunity. Bastard as he was, Adelis owed him more than he'd like to admit, and somehow...it had never settled quite right. Not quite as easy as the rest. ]

But that hardly matters. It happened, all for his spite, and now I get to carry that blame for him. [ It doesn't occur to him, not quite, that Mishka's words weren't in the sarcastic, mocking sense. And why would they, when he seemed so damn sincere. ] How magnimous, to bear the weight of something you never asked for in the bloody first place.

His decisions hardly matter to me anymore, regardless.

[ That is what he attempts to convince himself of anyway, red liquid reflecting in the blue of his eyes. He doesn't particularly seem eager to drink again, despite his request, letting it sit on the counter as he slowly turns his gaze back to Syrlya.

His suffering, is it. Well, he has that in surplus now, doesn't he. ]

As if I do not. [ Despite it all, being out of that basement still offered a sense of repose, despite the lingering ache in his chest. The shock, and the betrayal. Being away from Alexei's cold touch has always been a boon, this only made it moreso.

Of course, that was the way. Despite what it took. Adelis opts to not think too deeply on the feelings it had left buried deep within him. ]

Selfishness is necessary. My survival was always what was most important- but I would rather have done it my way. But that is in the past, and it cannot be redone. I am alive, or some facsimile of it, and I will never bloody go back. I would sooner take the blade to myself than let him have me again.

Be that if the blade did much.

[ He had tried, mind you. His hands were loose enough he managed to drive a few straight into him whenever he came close enough- but only received a smile for his troubles. Just by himself, there was simply no chance, no matter how he might have craved the opposite.

His optimism is...something. Adelis takes another small sip of his drink, as if contemplating, the circles under his eyes seeming ever darker. ]

Perhaps I should just take a whole bloody of this home with me, just in case.

[ ...Hm. Isn't that a question. Adelis' gaze flickers to Syrlya for a moment, brief surprise in his eyes before it disappears. He leans an elbow on the bar counter, hair brushing his cheek. ]

...There are several. None of them particularly easy.

[ Not that he's happy about that, but that's life. ]

...They are harmed by running water, such as standing in a river. As well as radiant, divine energy, and the sun itself. However, you can only kill them right away should they reach the end of their vitality whilst in sunlight or water. The former, obviously, was in short supply.

[ Vampires... (derogatory). ]

Should they not be in either, they will turn into a form of mist and attempt to abscond to their coffin within a certain amount of time, where they will stay to heal. They regenerate fast, but divine energy halts their regeneration enough. [ His fingers idly brush the rim of the glass. ] Should you stake them through the heart whilst they rest, they will be paralyzed, and easily disposed of...but this is all far easier said than done.

[ ...Dramatic, huh. He doesn't laugh, but his expression is faintly amused at the thought. He's never really thought about it, since it's the norm and all, but he supposes it is a little much. ]

Many of them enjoy being dramatic. Big parties, big celebrations. Some more than others.

[ Like the Grand Duchess herself...ugh. He's rather not think about that one.

He hums. ]

About... [ He idly holds his hands on either side of his chest. ] Perhaps the length of a torso. It has to pierce through the chest and the heart. It also has to be made of wood. Other then that, however, it matters not- you could ram a table leg in there, provided you had the appropriate strength to do so.

[ He really is making an extensive list here, isn't he. There aren't even any vampires in Tyria, if he remembers correctly, so he doesn't quite see a point in doing so...but, well, whatever. If he wants to know, he wants to know. ]

I doubt you'd be able to recreate this, especially since they can't even make it anymore, so I'd hardly bother with that one. [ He idly taps the glass. ] But yes, all of that...as well as silver. It's outlawed in Ostoya, for that purpose.

[ God, don't say that. He has enough problems as is. ]

I fail to see how you'll put that into practice, but you're welcome, I suppose.

[ He'll just...finally have a nibble, now. It's a bit cold, but still better than 70% of Ostoyan food, so he's not complaining. ]