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[gorlim.livejournal.com]

[OOM: GORLIM SMASH!!! - Warnings for violence (bloody), spiders (many), but no kinky sex this time (sorry).]


The door opens. The man who steps through -- slowly, but sure of his step -- is covered in mud, leaflitter, fresh blood, and some sort of slime that smells unspeakably awful. It's a smell you never forget, though: those who have encountered it before will know it without pause. Spiders. Strands of white fibre cling suspiciously in his hair and cloak.

There was most certainly a battle. And despite the blood, from the look on his face, he won.

Gorlim passes through the tables and to Bar, who instantly delivers a glass of apricot brandy... and a bar of soap. Gorlim picks it up and LOOKS at it for a moment or two, then laughs.

"Thank you, my lady. I shall get cleaned up directly, as soon as I finish my drink."


[ooc: OOM is part of Suit of Swords plot, but bar entry is open to all!]

Comments

[namo]

Námo sensed when the mind re-entered the bar.

He is down the stairs, with a gurgling child, before Gorlim can even take his first sip.

The Vala wrinkles his nose, looks him up and down.

"You smell awful."

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Gorlim grins at him.

"I won. He wants us in three days. How's the bairn?"

[namo]

Gabriel looks at his Ada and whimpers.

His Ada stinks.

"He is well. And what did you win?"

Námo ignores the mention of them both going to Ruin.

Pointedly ignores it.

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

He's a little shaky from the adrenaline rush now, grinning like he's been drugged.

"Ruin's... thing. I won. I did it." He giggles and sips his brandy. "Spider queen's dead."

[namo]

Námo looks around and finds the rat Nerdanel had become close with. He hands Gabriel over, instructing him to deliver the child to his mother.

The rat nods and heads up the stairs, Gabriel laughing and tugging on the poor rat's whiskers.

"Come, sit down. Sit with me and talk."

He takes Gorlim's hand and leads him to a booth.

A booth is easier to clean than a sofa.

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Gorlim follows, looking a touch stoned, and flops into the booth. He looks at Namo happily. "You'll let me hold Gabriel when I'm clean?"

[namo]

"When you are clean. He did not like your scent."

He looks over his lover.

"Dove, what have you been doing?"

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

"Fighting spiders," he answers mildly. Another giggle. "I won."

He was fucking terrified.

He almost died.

He was put in a COCOON.

He won.

[namo]

These thoughts that pass through Gorlim's mind are heard by Námo's.

"Spiders? I thought... I thought he only..."

An image of a bloody bed is shared.

He only thought Ruin would take him, not do... these things.

A small smile on his Vala's lips.

"You were terrified... but you won."

Pride shines in Námo's eyes.

[eight_or_eleven]

Just the sort of person Strength desires to see—

—though perhaps, not in a state like this.

"Gorlim," she says, recognising the man at once, and stops suddenly.

The man clearly looks to be a wreck.

And the lion is busy scraping his paw over his nose, the smell is so bad.

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Strange woman who knows his name.

...okay!

Gorlim raises his glass to her.

"Brandy?"

[eight_or_eleven]

Three guesses as to how she knows it too.

Guess one: Ruin looks a lot like this man, so this man has to be Gorlim.

Guesses two and three: negated by guess one?

"No thank you," she says with a grim expression on her face.

"I have been meaning to speak with you, and I'd wager it'd be easier with you more or less sober."

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

"I am sober," Gorlim says. And it is, in fact, perfectly true. He is also, however, reeling from the effects of spider poison, adrenaline, and a shot of terror that would tranquilize an oliphaunt. "Who are you, then?"

[eight_or_eleven]

Strength decides not to comment on Gorlim's state of being for the moment.

"Come. Sit. You clearly look as though you should."

She motions towards a pair of chairs that are near the fireplace.

"I am the one the sentients call 'Strength'. Like Wheel, Moon and Ruin I am one of the tarot cards. You'll have heard of us," she says, unsmiling.

"Sit Gorlim. Rest you now."

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Gorlim understands suddenly. He sobers as well as his shell-shocked mind can, and sits where he is directed.

"Ruin told me about you. Or... maybe Moon did. I'm afraid I'm not thinking straight right now," he says apologetically.

[eight_or_eleven]

"It doesn't matter who told you," she says, seating herself down near Gorlim. Willing herself to not think about the most disagreeable aroma wafting from him. "Right now all that matters is that you do know of us."

She pauses, searching for the words she should say next.

"And that I know of your bargain with Ruin."

Whether he's surprised to hear this revelation or not isn't important. She has to tell him this first. Perhaps as a means to ease his mind; assure him that he doesn't have to tell her everything that's happened.

"All the cards who are here know."

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

"I thought you might. Moon knew. I guessed it might be a... thing, with whatever you are, like how Random knows if stuff happens to people he has Trumps for, only different, cuz he has to ask."

Babbling. Right. Shut up.

[song_tra_bong]

[ooc: am going to have to flee in, literally, a couple minutes, but wanted to get in a tag or two first. will be back later for great slowtime.]

The man reeks.



She could give a shit.

He gets a low-speed tackle-hug from an incoming blonde, which transfers some of the aromatic slime. Ruining clothes this week is something of a theme. Again, not her biggest concern.

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

[ooc: *squee!*]

Gorlim grins and returns the hug with bear-strength.

"I won," he informs her triumphantly.

[song_tra_bong]

She laughs and wipes a smudge of something off his nose.

"Glorious. Tell me about it?"

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

She doesn't want to know. She REALLY doesn't want to know.

"Spiders," he says. "BIG ones. Not as big as home. Big, though. Bigger than me. Tried to eat me."

Jittery!

[song_tra_bong]

"But you killed them all, yes?" Which is the thing that matters.

She gives him another hug, then a kiss on a relatively clean patch of cheek.

"Want to sit down?"

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

Pause.

Consider.

You can almost hear the gears cranking.

"Yes."

To both.

[song_tra_bong]

"Alright, then."

She leads him over to a booth; if the arm around his waist and the shoulder next to his provide him something to lean against, it is surely all well-timed coincidence.

After placing an order to a waitrat for a washcloth and some towels, she takes a seat next to him on the bench.

"You want anything, lovely? Drink? Food?"

[gorlim.livejournal.com]

"Just brandy. Apricot. You should try it. Good stuff."

Mary Anne becomes a pillow. We hope her existence is enriched by the experience.