milliways_bar | (no subject)

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You know who's been quiet lately? Loki! Loki's been quiet lately! That's probably fine though. He's just been off in the library, looking up a few maps, a few old texts, a few new texts, things like that. It's fine.

He saunters through the main room with a leather sack slung over his shoulder, making for a door that--isn't there? What? There's a paper napkin pinned on the wall where his door should be, and after reading it Loki stalks back to the Bar for a quiet but intense argument. "Look, you officious, glorified piece of wooden--"

Looks like Bar is flexing her muscles today.

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Sevatar's sitting by the bar, drinking a pint of bitter, when the strangely dressed pale man walks in looking like he wants to kill someone. Usually, he'd intervene for the hell of it, but he's drinking and...

Wait, no, the man has started shouting at the Bar. This is much more interesting than sitting and doing basically nothing, so Sevatar swivels around on his seat and faces the man.

"I know the Bar is intelligent and all that, but I don't think she speaks. Perhaps the complaints department would be a better bet."

Technically he isn't shouting: the conversation is vehement but very quiet. And, of course, one-sided if you don't count the notes Bar produces.

Loki looks over his shoulder at the stranger, unamused. "There's a remarkable new concept called written language; perhaps you've heard of it? It allows for the transmission of information even without speaking."

Sevatar smirks. "Oh, don't worry, I'm well aware of it, I just find it so clunky, and it's so hard to get the right tone across. Much better, in my humble opinion, to just speak up."

(0OC: Sorry, didn't notice that)

"Ye-es," he replies, with elaborate patience, "but as you just pointed out, Bar doesn't speak. I speak, Bar writes."

Loki stares at the stranger's smirk for a moment or two longer, shakes his head, and turns back to the bar. He does, indeed, seem to be looking over some paper napkins, though it's hard to tell from this angle whether there's anything written on them.

"Why were you screaming at Bar so quietly, anyway? Did she mess up your drink order?"

If Bar writes to communicate, that would explain the small pile of napkins next to the man, or so Sevatar assumes. He can't see what's on them from this angle, but it doesn't really matter.

He flicks one of the napkins off the bar before answering. "She doesn't want to lend out books."

It's not fair.

"Any in particular you want?"

Sevatar's curiosity is building. This man, whomever he is, obviously values books quite a bit. Perhaps there's an opportunity for him to make this day a little less boring.

"The ones that I went through considerable effort to find and gather. She claims,"--he flicks away another napkin-- "that they're not for circulation beyond the premises."

"Are they dangerous?"

Usually, things you don't want getting out of a place like Milliways are. And if they are...

Loki smiles a sudden bright smile at him. "Do I look like someone who would try to take dangerous books out of the Milliways library?"

Sevatar counters with a grin of his own. "You're sure you want to know the answer to that question, whoever you are?"

Eyebrows. "I...don't actually care, but go ahead and answer if you like. Be my guest. Do I look like someone who would try to take dangerous books out of Milliways?"

"Oh, thanks." He pauses and thinks for a moment before responding. "Yes, you do. The green makes you look like you're going to invade Ireland with a sack of daemonic grimores that scream when you open them.'

Loki tilts his head and regards him, still-faced, for a few moments, then suddenly grins again and laughs. "I hate books that scream when you open them. --Where's Ireland? Is it worth invading?"

"Ireland's on Earth. It's not worth invading, but it's got very nice beer and some beautiful scenery, so it's worth a visit."

The fact that this man seems to be talking about screaming books from experience makes him grin a little wider.

"Well. I can think of worse reasons to invade. Is it your home, or have you just visited?"

"I'm from a planet called Nostramo, I've just visited a few versions of the place. Where are you from?"

Frankly, he doesn't expect a truthful answer.

Edited 2017-07-23 23:36 (UTC)

"I am Loki of Asgard," he answers expansively. He doesn't quite sound like he expects the other person to have heard of him...but he wouldn't be surprised.

"Loki, huh? You mean the god of Norse myth? You don't really look like a god to me."

Well, from Sevatar's perspective, he doesn't. In his universe, there's a massive dog-headed warrior on a throne of skulls, a tentacle monster, a corpulent plague carrier and an androgynous pleasure prince that act as deities. None of them look even remotely human.

"I'm Sevatar." He sticks his gauntlet out to shake.

"Hm." He looks at the outstretched gauntlet, but doesn't make contact. "What would you like me to look like?"

As far as Loki's concerned, he's absolutely the god of Norse myth. Even if some worlds' Lokis do things a little differently.

"I have no idea. To be fair, you look a lot better than most gods I've heard of. This will be fine."

Sevatar's read American Gods. He doesn't want to end up on the receiving end of some horrible trick.

"Are you sure? I take requests." But it's plain that he likes the answer; he lounges easily against the bar and looks Sevatar over. "So tell me about Nostramo."

"Have you ever read or watched Sin City?"

To be honest, this is how Sevatar usually explains home.

"Never heard of it." He's untroubled by the omission.

Usually, Sevatar would just say that his world was like Sin City, but turned up to eleven and spread over an entire planet. Given that Loki doesn't seem to be into that sort of pop culture, he's going to have to improvise.

"Imagine the most cyberpunk scene possible, add in the violence and crime of Victorian London, or whatever wretched hives exist in your universe, and have that as the primary theme of an entire planet-wide civilisation. That's what Nostramo was like."

Sinric comes in from his door, looking older and more subdued that his usual self, dressed almost monastic.

It takes him a moment to shake off the glamour, his hair turning from greyed platinum back to gold blonde, his face returning to his usual androgynous prettiness.

He nods politly to Loki and asks the Bar for something strong to drink.

Loki nods back, politely enough. He's mildly surprised by the illusory magic--but not enough to ask, not while he's busy negotiating with the bar.

Edited 2017-07-24 01:22 (UTC)

Sinric offers him a small smile, the last lock of greying hair shifting back to blonde.

He sips the clear drink the bar offers him, gasping sharply as it settles in his gut, sweating softly in Greek. He coughs and laughs, thanking the Bar.

After a moments through, he asks the Bar to offer a similar drink to Loki. "You seem like you could use it." He explains as a shimmering glass appears in front of Loki.

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