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

[rhinemaid]

Though Ilde's most usual alternative form is rather like a mermaid, she's closer to water in truth than she is to fish, and she likes that about herself; there is a sense of belonging that she was always reaching for before, that nothing else could ever have satisfied, and it's as close to perfect as anything could be.

All the better for befriending strange polar bears.

"I'm making it all up as I go along," she admits easily- it's frustrating, and there are questions she'll never have answered no matter how much she learns now, but she's doing her best and her best hasn't been so bad, she doesn't think. "We don't all come with labels, it's very inconvenient." Interpreting what her senses tell her sometimes feels like Ilde Holmes, Fairy Detective.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

He is sympathetic, or perhaps empathetic is a better term (and less patronizing) because he distinctly remembers how rough things were before his kin came for him. It's not the exact same as what Ilde is experiencing, obviously, but he can relate in his own way.

"Well, I'm pretty recognisable. But even when you have a guidebook, that's all it is after a point." Being told and living through something were very different things. Spending the rest of his life in Svalbard hadn't felt completely right for him, even if he relished in the landscape. There was something in him a little too restless and ill content to stay on an island forever. "At least if you're looking for someone similar, you've got a good chance of finding them here."

[rhinemaid]

"There are other fae," she agrees, though she has yet to find any quite like herself - to the best of her knowledge, she and Sonja are the only ones from their world, and she's certain they'd know if it weren't the case. The wealth of variety just among vampires suggests certain things about the specificity of the supernatural from world to world, and she isn't holding her breath to find someone who looks like her without the illusion. "And all sorts of everyone. I met a dragon." Sort of.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

Now that is fascinating, and he can't help but imagine some sort of Fáfnir-like wyrm curled up in the city somewhere, waiting. And now it's his turn to ask:

"Really?"

[rhinemaid]

"Dragon...kin? Dragonborn?" What he looks like and the fact he is some kind of dragon: those are memorable details. The finer points of the conversation more easily slip her mind when she's distracted and indulging a hereditary tendency toward 'being a fucking lush'. But suffice to say, we are not dealing with Smaug, here. "Something. He was cranky." Yes, he was.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

So far this place is basically his childhood imagination come to life.

(Including the scary bits, Asbjørn, but you will discover that in good time -and who knows, he may be just as captivated by them in a strange way.)

"I don't want to judge everyone on fairy tales, but that sort of makes sense."