take these broken wings and learn to fly

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

Who: "Fauxlivia" Dunham and you.
What: Coffee.
Where: Mog Hill, Queequeg's.
When: Veerdi (or any given) morning.
Warnings: None as of yet. Probably language?

Olivia would like to be one of those people waiting at the door when Queequeg's opens at 7, but in good conscience, she can't bring herself to add to the rush when she hasn't got any place to be in the mornings just yet. She waits a respectable hour before making her way from her room at Valhalla Inn to the sunken ship motif'd coffee shop.

It's become a bit of a game, ordering a coffee with the instruction surprise me. Sometimes this turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and those combinations she writes down for later reference. Sometimes she discovers that she should stick to what she knows. Today she's fortunately enjoying the results of flavour roulette, her hands wrapped around the hot beverage, a contented smile on her lips after a tentative sip. Out on deck, the warmth of it is appreciated.

Comments

for *now*

[hehaseatenthepancake]

"S'no problem. I was lucky to find my place early on. Only seems fair to do what I can for others." The pamphlet does mention that there are employment agencies, but it's not uncommon for people to disregard the pamphlet five minutes after getting out and it doesn't really make it clear that the employment agencies have probably heard it all. He never talked to them anyway, having been directly recruited.

His breakfast finally finished and feeling halfway sentient now, he takes a cigarette out of a silvered case, strikes a wooden match off of his Right Hand, and lights up. The leisurely smoke helps take the edge off of the large coffee he's just had to wake him up.

"Hellsing's basically sanctioned as a trade guild, like a union. Some guilds handle things like construction or risking their necks in the fog for valuable prizes; Hellsing officially fills the role of the previously-defunct Guild of Battling Preternatural Horrors. We're mostly funded by donations, I think. Princess Nuala oversees that, while Sir Integra Hellsing runs the guild as a whole." After a pause for a puff, he adds, "And yes, she's descended from that Van Helsing. Her second in command goes by 'Alucard' these days. I'm sure you can do the math."

...Yes.

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

In her experience, employment agencies aren't used to dealing with people with her skillset, so yes, Olivia did (unfairly) dismiss that as a proper channel for employment. That and there's something defeatist about it to her. As it stands, this may all work out in the end anyway.

The explanation of guilds, specifically the one Hellsing's replaced, draws lifted brows from the former DoD agent. "Well, that's not the strangest thing I've heard since I came here." Really, it's to the point where Olivia feels like she could just shrug and say, oh, naturally there's a connection to vampires. "In a place populated by demons and aliens and whatever else as a norm, though, what even qualifies as a preternatural horror?"

And more importantly, why does she find herself slightly eager to find out?

[hehaseatenthepancake]

"Yeah, even for me, this place re-adjusted my ideas of 'weird' a little." He chuckles, swallows down the last bit of coffee in his mug, then relaxes back into his chair with his cigarette.

"Baedal's still human-centric enough that some of that stuff still counts, and we do get called in for it if it's beyond what the Sheriffs or the Militia can handle. Sometimes it's a haunting, or a possession." He takes another puff, as much inhaling to prepare himself for the next bit of description as for the smoke itself. "Even aside all that, though, there are things -- and sometimes they are also considered either aliens or demons -- but things from outside space and time. Kinds of things that defy even our looser concepts of what's possible, and can drive the unprepared mad just at the sight of them. I've never been out in the fog, but my understanding is that the things to be found there are similar in some ways."

Iä, Iä, etc.

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

Olivia sips at her coffee, listening with interest, nodding her head slightly to show she's following along well enough. "Makes sense." As much as she expects anything to make sense these days. "So nobody really knows what's out there in the fog?"

It seems like a superstitious notion, an antiquated hold-over from another time - things lurking in the fog. The human imagination is always so much worse than the reality in 'Liv's experience, but even back home she's seen the bleed from imagination to reality.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy pinches at the bridge of his nose. "I don't know much, 'cause I got enough trouble in town. I'm sure there's someone knows something, although probably not everything. Like I said, there's a guild of folks who go out there and bring stuff back. I know a group from our cohort got a boat and tried their luck out on the ocean five minutes after getting here, and they were lucky to make it back."

With a grunt and a bit of creakiness, he stubs out his cigarette, then stands up and slings his sword properly onto his back. "Listen, I gotta get going. It's a bit of a hike back to Sobek Croix, and this coffee and breakfast are going to keep me awake only so much longer." He extends his left hand to shake. "It was nice talking to you."

[ruinedu2.livejournal.com]

It crosses her mind that some things just don't change, no matter where you go. Universal constants, maybe? Olivia extends her hand to shake the one offered by Hellboy, a genuine smile on her lips. "Thanks for taking the time to talk with me. Have a safe journey back. Hopefully I'll be seeing you again soon."