(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

OOM: After many years of wandering Europe, Sinric the Wanderer makes his way into the frozen north.

He meets a young Viking with very blue eyes and they get to talking. Eventually they get to other things.
{ooc: warnings for sex starting about 60 tags in.}

It stirs up old memories, and some pain but Sinric is determined to makes the most of the time he has. He spins tales of far off lands and shares drinks from those lands. Out of those stories, he invites Ragnar to spend a second night with him.
{ooc: warnings for discussions of sex toys starting 30 tags in, mentions of past sexual violence, and more sex starting about 60 tags in.}

***

Sinric tiredly pushes his way between the trees as he walks inland and north from Ribe. He trudges, trying to shake off his foul mood, his hood pulled up and his head down. He looks up as he crests the hill only to look down at the bar and the lake.

He swears. Violently. And in several languages. So much so the air should be turning blue.

He stomps his way down to the bar, still swearing. “Now! Why now. Ten years! Why now! ” He drops his pack and falls into a chair at the Bar itself, addressing her directly. “Honestly! So many years and now you choose to open to me?”

The only answer he gets is a stiff drink.

Sinric is much older than anyone here has ever seen him, tired, angry and botherable.

{ooc: just pre-canon Sinric for one week only. Slow tag warning.}

Comments

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil, still young, is sitting at the Bar nursing a glass of dark ale. He's had a rough day of training in Storlock. He hasn't seen Sinric yet.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs again and orders a second drink. He gives Wil a small nod and raises his glass in toast.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil does the same, "To hard days at work."

His work just doesn't always save the people he's supposed to help save. It had never occurred to him that people might just be beyond even the Stor's healing.

(OOC and he's making the face in Sinric's icon too. Also, slowtime, I need sleep)

[thewidewideworld]

"Some days are just hard." He sighs, polishing off half the glass in one gulp. "Do you want another, because I do."

{ooc: sleep well.}

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Sure," says Wil with a shrug, "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Perhaps." He studies the youth's face. "I have not been here in a very long time."

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"I'm Wil," he says and offers a hand.

[thewidewideworld]

"Sinric." He bows ever so slightly as he takes Wil's hand. His own hands are small and delicate but a little rough. "A pleasure. Have you been coming near long?"

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil leaned close and looked closely at Sinric, "I remember you. You spoke with me when I had just started to come here. I've been coming here for about a six months my time but I guess here it's only been a few months."

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche offers him a sympathetic sidelong glance.

"It does that sometimes, and who knows why."

[thewidewideworld]

"She is a cruel and fickle mistress." Sinric opines, tapping his empty glass against the wood, gladdened to see it refilled. "But she has good taste in wine."

[street_sparrow]

"That she does. Though whether she has anything to do with the door... I think she just tries to look after the people it brings to her."

[thewidewideworld]

"No, you're right. And she had cared for me in the past. It doesn't make the lost time any less lost."

[street_sparrow]

"I hope you found other things to fill the ten years", he offers.

[thewidewideworld]

"I have seen more of the world than any man living." He huffs ruefully. "At least any man of my time."

[street_sparrow]

"Well, that sounds like something to be proud of."

[thewidewideworld]

"Some days. Others I find myself envious of those who have home and hearth. But then the wind pulls my hair and I go."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is at the bar as well, sipping red wine from a glass.

He turns to look at Sinric as he is sitting there, swearing.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric doesn't notice him at first, too focused on downing the first glass of strong liquor the bar provides him with. It is stronger than he's had access to in a while, and far finer and he coughs.

He sets the glass down with deliberate care and holds his head in his hands. "I shouldn't be here."

[cook_the_rude]

"Not if you curse the bar like that," Hannibal says. "That expression you just used I only know from ancient login literature."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric looks across at the speaker and his eyes widen. He looks up, as if addressing the gods themselves. "Is this my reward or my punishment?" He asks the empty rafters in Greek.

He rolls his eyes back to earth and pushes the empty glass away from himself as if afraid it will spontaneously break in his hand. "I suppose there are few left who speak the old curses in your time."

[cook_the_rude]

[[[OOC: Damn autocomplete turned kobun into login!!]]

"Langauge has moved on," Hannibal says. "After all, it has been 1200 years, give or take some, and Japanese is spoken by many people, so changes fast. Your friend Ragnar could still talk to his Icelandic descendants without much trouble."

[thewidewideworld]

At mention of Ragnar, Sinric checks over his shoulder, glad not to spot the older version of the man he just left.

A little tension leaches from his hunched shoulders. "Languages change so fast on the streets and in the towns but church and court tend to anchor them. There, they endure longer."

[cook_the_rude]

"And if they are let go, they move rapidly," Hanmibal,says. "Japanese changed drastically once the country opened to Western influences in the latter part of the 19th century."

Pause.

"How many years has it been, Sinric?"

[thewidewideworld]

He looks directly at Hannibal for the first time, his dark eyes tired. "Ten years since I was here last. But to look at you, I think it might have been longer. How young was I when you knew me last?"