It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

Despite being on doctors orders not to mix painkillers with alcohol, Boromir is here because half of Hellsing is attending and because this is an easy way of checking up on people.

He even manages not to look like he just stepped out of Medieval Fantasy land, wearing fairly non-descript dark trousers and black shirt, although it bears noting that this clothing is fairly loose. He didn't just help bring back a Queen Ant as a souvenir, and he winces slightly as he walks.

He waves to the odd person he knows, and makes his way to the bar.

[rhinemaid]

The diminutive woman making a beeline to him through the crowd is not actually a member of Hellsing, which all things considered is probably for the best, actually. However, she would presume to be someone he wants to see, which is why she pops up beside him with her silly drink in hand, navigating alcohol and heels with the skill of practise.

"Did you lose a bet?" His clothing. She's just being friendly, Boromir, you love it.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Ilde." She gets a bright, warm smile, because maybe he was worried. Despite her being the river-maid and him being the squishy human.

"Chainmail is bad for broken ribs." Apparently. And light alcoholic drinks aren't something you should give to children, the things he's learning. "Besides, you don't take a sword to a party, just a dagger or two."

[rhinemaid]

The worst of it (besides the nightmares) are the bruises on her throat, still hidden by the glamour that lets her masquerade as human in appearance; the slight rasp in her voice hints at what's there, but she doesn't seem to be significantly slowed down this evening. Her hand lingers over his ribs for a moment, like she would've poked him and then thought better of it, and then she pats his shoulder, fondly. "I was talking about you," she says, apropos of nothing. "And here you are. You're very good."

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Then I can only hope you spoke good things, dear river maiden." Which is Middle Earth code for thinking you're adorable when buzzed, Ilde.

"Come now, I need your help," he says, leaning against the bar and pointing to the bottles behind it. "The healer told me I can't drink any ale, wine, or other such thing while I take his painkillers. What are you supposed to have, then?"

[rhinemaid]

The fleeting grin he gets in return promises only good things! ...well, it suggests she enjoyed the conversation, anyway.

Boosting herself up onto a barstool, she signals the bartender and orders him a soda, playing with the straw that Réjean had acquired for her earlier. "If we were in a different bar, I would've got you a virgin daiquiri," she informs him.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

Which doesn't help his curiosity in the slightest, no.

"That is the strangest name for a drink I've ever heard in my life." And speaking of strange drinks, his soda arrives pretty quickly (the bubbling is odd, although he's gotten used to it).

[rhinemaid]

"A daiquiri is a cocktail," she says, in the tone of someone holding forth in an educational sort of a way, "which is a mixed drink. A virgin daiquiri is the same cocktail, without any alcohol in it."

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

Cocktails is a very unfortunate name, especially given its 'status.' But Boromir isn't going to laugh because he's a grown man and he's commanded armies. Yes. "That sounds...nice."

[rhinemaid]

"I like brandy alexanders better." They're sweet and easy to drink and, like the song says, tend to get her into trouble. But everything tends to get Ilde into trouble, sooner or later, so why not enjoy it?

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"That sounds far more preferable. When I'm better, I'd like to really celebrate. I had some good news before the recent attack." And some not so good news, but hopefully there would be time to slow down and mourn properly in the next while. "My world is safe, and my friends are alive. My brother is married," which gets a chuckle.

Underneath it all he's a little sad he's not there to enjoy it, even though he realises that's not a possibility any more. But knowing is the next best thing. He feels more at peace.

[rhinemaid]

Suppressing a bitter pang of envy - and brief, savage anger at that which is so fucking unfair - Ilde bumps him gently with her shoulder, affectionate and quiet. She's pleased for him, truly, but she's already had a bit to drink and she doesn't quite trust herself to comment on it without sounding...

...less than pleased.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

He can't help but pick up on the sudden change in his friend's mood, and he mentally fumbles with what to say, or do, and it's not like he's never felt this way himself. A month or so ago he would have given some sort of encouraging speech, the sort he reserved for his men in the face of hardships, but with Ilde...

With Ilde, you can change the conversation. "It's been an odd sort of week." (Understatement). It's got the added implication of let's not talk about it, then.

[obscuredvision]

Ava is headed there herself, after making a quick sweep of the room for familiar faces--not just in the sense of "oh hey, here are my friends," but in the sense of "hey I know that face from my visions." Thankfully, she doesn't see anyone like that, and since she also doesn't have any mental notes about this particular time and place--she can relax, for once.

She spots Boromir in he crowd; just a slight turn changes her forward momentum into an intercept course. "Boromir! Hi!"

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Ava," he says, and she gets a bright smile because all the people he knows aren't dead, and that's wonderful. And then tentatively, because these have been strange times, he asks, "How have you been?"

[obscuredvision]

"I'm so glad to see you," she says, earnest. "And I've been all right, thank you for asking. I waited out the ants and the fungus and all the rest in one of the temples, tending to the injured."

She hadn't been called to go on one of the quests; she was glad for that.

"What about you? How are you?"

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Well enough." Which means he has broken ribs, acid burns, scratches, bruises, cuts and scrapes but it's all in a day's work (he's had worse) and half the bar is faring the same. "I was sent on one of the quests. We succeeded, and live to tell the tale."

And because she's newly arrived, empty handed and they'll probably keep talking, "Can I get you a drink?"

[obscuredvision]

"Were you?" Oh, gosh, now you're all heroic and stuff, even more than you were before. "Well, then we must celebrate your success. I'd love a drink, please and thank you."

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Wonderful." And he signals to the bartender, who's just finishing up serving someone. In the meantime, "So, are you a healer by profession?"

[obscuredvision]

"A healer? Me? Oh, no. No, no." She smiles. "My mother is, sort of. She's a doctor who heals and corrects skin problems. I work in her office but I don't do any healing myself, I keep things running smoothly for her."

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

In a weird way, he kind of did a similar thing for his father. Only there were...more Orcs. "Where I come from, foresight and a healing touch are occasionally gifts that go together," he explains, smiling fondly. Now that he has closure, Middle Earth feels both distant and safe, like looking down on the tiny landscape inside a snow globe and treasuring it.

A wild bar keeper appears and asks what they'd like. "Another of whatever soda that was, and...?" He turns to Ava.

[obscuredvision]

Her smile echoes his; it's good, she thinks, that he's able to mention his home with much more ease. This is exactly why she does what she does, even when it's difficult or uncomfortable for her or the other party. Sometimes that knowledge allows a person to move on, or gain some acceptance or even forgiveness.

"A glass of white wine, please. Thank you," she adds, offering Boromir a smile, and then an admission: "I don't know if that holds, where I'm from. I don't know anyone else with foresight. It's apparently an uncommon gift."

this tag was lost ;_; but now it is found!

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

His would definitely fall into the former. While he's not truly forgiven himself for his actions yet, he's glad to know they didn't in any way hinder the quest. It is a huge relief.

"It usually only comes to people with elven ancestry in my world, or else someone particularly wise." Then, because he realises how that sounded, "And I can say most assuredly that my one instance of foresight was caused by my lineage."

\o/

[obscuredvision]

She laughs softly. "I'm sure we aren't elves, my family," she notes, with a hint of self-deprecation, "and I'm certainly not the wisest in my city. I'm not sure why I was able to do what I did, seeing all those things when I was a child. I guess, in the end, it's something of a gift. And perhaps that's all I need to know."

And what drives her to share--a gift should be paid forward, information comes with responsibility.

[ofminastirith.livejournal.com]

"Now that sounds wise," he says, playful but sincere. "I'm afraid I've only recently come to the conclusion that you have to leave some things up to the unknown. At least this city has been good for one thing."