[Log post Day 4] To the pub!

[craftycurvo]

Characters: Curufin and Snow
Open? Potentially
Where: Terrace of the Drunk Duck tavern
When: Late afternoon/early evening
Warnings: None as yet

Not that Curufin's feeling particularly sorrowful. Drained, perhaps, from his forays into elementary spellcasting. Feeling his massive sugar rush from the muffins wear off, hard. Tipsy, possibly, from the pint of potent stout he's sipping - he's more used to delicate elven wines, not mortal beer that really tastes like it needs a good watering down if not to make you staggeringly drunk by noon.

He came here, he thinks, to clear his head. His room isn't conducive to thought any longer. In particular, he's dwelling on how real, and yet unreal, his predicament is. The coarse wood bench and the bitter ale seem real enough, but then again he just summoned fire from his fingers. In what land does that work?

Several answers present themselves, none of which he particularly likes. He wonders whether maybe he should ask one of the merry clientele, but is put off by the lack of orbs present about them. It's a specifically hero problem and he's not sure they would understand.

Comments

[demonsintheoven]

Down at the other end of the bar, a somewhat haggard looking woman who looks as if she's had quite a few pints already is idly spinning the tiny glass pendent around on its chain, looking rather entranced as the sparks of light from the sputtering lanterns around cast their tiny rainbows.

The locals seem to have given her room as there's none of them to either side of her, which is all for the best as she's not particularly upright in her chair.

[craftycurvo]

[After a short while, someone slides onto a barstool besides Snow and orders a couple of drinks. The spinning pendant seems to catch his attention and he watches for a moment, watching the flecks of light dance over the bar and the woman.]

[demonsintheoven]

She doesn't seem to acknowledge his presence at first, expression unchanging as she reaches up to spin the tiny form of the Orb the other way. Finally, she gives a deep sigh, letting it drop to the bar as her shoulders slump. "Too like the ocean..." she mumbles, reaching for her own drink.

[craftycurvo]

[That's it, Curufin is intrigued. It helps that there's something Noldorin about her appearance, the dark hair and pale skin, but it's her mumbled words that cause him to want to speak with her.]

Like the ocean? I'm not sure, but I think we're far inland here.

[demonsintheoven]

[Her held tilts to look at him as she speaks] Still, silent, and never answers, even if close by or far away. [There's a touch of sing song to her voice before she drains what's left in her mug in a single breath, shoulders slumping as she slowly lowers the mug to the bartop again.] I would have remembered birthing the ocean...

[craftycurvo]

I... suppose it's not the kind of thing you'd forget.

[pushes the other drink he'd ordered towards her, some form of rough-and-ready local scrumpy - he feels like a change from the ale. He speaks to his glass as if he's just after someone to listen to him, not directing his words anywhere in particular, and a half-mad mortal woman isn't likely to remember much anyway.]

Do you know, it was said that my grandmother gave birth to Fire - my father - and it consumed her. [smiles, conversationally:] Generally it seems wisest that womenfolk stick to birthing babies.

[demonsintheoven]

A hawk and a flower.... only the hawk was a wolf clouded in the darkness and my poor flower was gone before she bloomed... [[Her hand unsteadily reaches for the cider]]

[craftycurvo]

What's your name, mother of the ocean?

[demonsintheoven]

Snow... [[and with that, she quickly downs half the drink in a single swig. Not at all a stranger to heavy drinking]]

[craftycurvo]

[Curufin raises an eyebrow - the stuff tastes like pickling vinegar that might once have seen an apple. Still, maybe this is the best way to take it, to swallow it quickly and not think too hard about the taste. He takes a gulp of his own drink.]

It's [gasp] ... good to meet you. My name is Curufin.

[a drink-emboldened grin]

I'm a wizard.

[demonsintheoven]

[[Snow's dunk worse things. Really, as along as it helped her detach from reality, she didn't care what it tasted like.

She nods, head rolling]]

Not so little...

[craftycurvo]

[He frowns, slightly. Tugged at a memory, perhaps, or maybe just a weak joke. He does tower over her, although that's more down to her slumped posture than his height.]

Perhaps I can help you get home.

[demonsintheoven]

[[She shakes her head]] I can still think... [[and as if to try and counter that, she drains the rest of the fermented mess in her glass, giving a small gasp for air when it's done]] There's too much that still's too clear....

[craftycurvo]

So you drink to make things unclear.

[finishes own drink with a grimace and orders another round, a wine this time - why not mix it up?]

That's very interesting. Once you've achieved your desired state, I'll still see you home. Not to do so would be ungentlemanly.

[demonsintheoven]

[[she hiccups slightly]] Dark Chyld doesn't understand... he'll be mad again. He's always mad...

[craftycurvo]

That seems very unreasonable of him, whoever he is.

You could always come home with me instead.

[demonsintheoven]

[[She slumps forward, cheek resting on the bar]] I don't want to think of him... [[mumbles, eyes half closed.]] I can't fix what binds you...

[craftycurvo]

[Curufin smiles, but it's not really a happy smile]

Come on. Let's get you home, before the good barkeep forcibly ejects us. I don't think that's a good place to lie down.

[offers her a hand]

[demonsintheoven]

[[She instinctively reaches out to take it, but as her fingers brush his hand, she freezes and pulls back, fingers curling in]]

That's a different world... [[It's almost a whisper, her eyes wide and unfocused]]

[craftycurvo]

[He takes her by the arm, meaning to guide her to her feet, and wondering if he'll have to carry her, or if she'll be in any condition to give directions]

What is? Mine, yours, this one?

[demonsintheoven]

[[she shakes her head, even as she's brought to her feet]] All of them... not even what Dark Chyld is in is that...

[craftycurvo]

If it's any consolation, you're not the only one confused.

[craftycurvo]

Round this one off?

OoC

[demonsintheoven]

Sorry 'bout this, I've just been not doing as well with Snow as I thought. @_@ It's sort of a hit or miss thing, unfortunately and I keep missing with this log >< Sorry!

Re: OoC

[craftycurvo]

Is ok, let me know if there's anything I can do to make it easier.

...let's assume he takes her home like a nice elf.