milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[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!]

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Gorlim listens, fascinated. When she pauses, he turns to her. "I did not know you could sing!" he says, sounding affronted. "...It was beautiful."

She blushes, ducking her head slightly.

"Thank you. I...it was--is--something I do at home sometimes; would sing for the boys a little, still do when I'm alone now and then. My mother sang a lot at home, so I guess it rubbed off."

"Everyone sings where I'm from," Gorlim says. "Our world was created by music. Every life is a song. We make songs to tell our history, and for enjoyment. I miss people singing. Lee used to, just for me. He had a good voice."

She toys with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You ever wanna hear somebody, come find me. I'll do my best for you."

Singing is something she enjoys, but it's not something she's shared with many people here. She'd like to correct that.

"I'd like that," Gorlim purrs. "Maybe teach you some of my songs. If you can manage the accent," he teases, bumping against her lightly.

She gives him a gentle nudge in return.

"Might be able to. And if not, can always just sing bits without words; 's usually what I do at home anyway."

When you're away from a radio for long enough, you start to make up your own material.

Ladros has no radios. Ladros NEEDS no radios.

"Mmm," Gorlim answers eloquently as he sips his brandy.

"...Probably better go get cleaned up," he adds, though he neglects to make any move to do so.

"Probably," she agrees.

She lets him continue with the not-moving for a minute before she offers. "Need a hand up?"

Gorlim considers.

"...Yes," he decides.

She nods.

"No problem."

She slips from the booth and takes his hand, helping him to his feet.

"Think you can take it from here?"

Gorlim nods.

"Thanks, lass," he coos to her.

"Any time, lovely."

She gives him a light shove. "Now go get cleaned up and get some sleep. We can talk more later."

Gorlim nods and staggers off, the brandy in his hand.

"Be well," he orders her as he goes.

"Stay well," she calls after him.

She disposes of the rest of the dirtied towels herself, then heads upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes herself.

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