(no subject)

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Asar-Suti comes downstairs. The puzzlement and introspection of the day before is mostly gone.

As is the noticeable violet flicker. Obviously, Asar-Suti has pulled himself together again. Whatever that might imply, by Asar-Suti-ish standards.

He sees people reading Meg's note on the bulletin board and shakes his head. It might be that he doesn't quite get what a "thingamabobber" is supposed to be. It might be that he thinks it's a pity the interesting passenger he felt in Meg is gone. On the other hand, it might be that he suspects she might not like coffee any more now, and is glad she introduced him while she did?

He decides to reintroduce himself to her. See what she says about Ihlini now. If she doesn't remember, she might tell him something yet.

But at first, he drifts over to the fireplace and sits down. He sotps a waitrat with a little gesture and has his coffee within record time. He drinks, blowing on it, and looks at the people in the bar. No Lochiel, though. So, who does he want to talk to today?

Comments

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider wanders downstairs, book under arm, hands in pockets. He gives a cursory scan of the room and notices Asar-Suti, the interesting young man from the other night, sitting by the fireplace.

He walks over.

"Good evening, sir. I hope I find you well this evening?"

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

"God evening, Aphelise", Asar-Suti says. He remembers the man from the second night he was in the bar. The dealer in diamonds that had been talking to Todd as well. Now, Asar-Suti understands about the potential of jewels, seeing he taught his people how to magic their life-force into them to keep it safe. On the other hand, he might just be sensing the dark potential in the pleasant fellow.

"Do sit down", he says aloud. "Yes, I feel very well. There are very many interesting ideas about at this place that are entirely new to me."

[blue_eyed_lord]

"Oh?" the Rider raises a curious eyebrow and seats himself in a chair across from Asar-Suti. "Such as?"

He pauses to rearrange himself more comfortably in the chair. "It is indeed a curious place and I have learned a little of other worlds and magic of all different sorts. Talking to people here is almost an education in itself, coming from so many different worlds." The Rider reflects for a moment. "Albeit, many come from a planet and a time that is very close to mine. Perhaps this is not the case for you? I am most recently from England on the planet Earth."

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

"I have never heard of England", Asar-Suti admits. "Earth is to me just the ground I stand on. The planet I come from doesn't really have a name. People don't know what a planet is, yet." He shrugs, as if to apologise for the backwardsness of his home. "We've got several interesting sorts of magic, though. There's other people who say they come from 'Earth', I have heard that."

He nods, and continues. "Yes, the education is quite sudden. I've learned about things I'd never imagined back home." He lifts his coffee cup and grins. "Coffee, for example."

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider looks slightly more attentive at the mention of a people who have yet to discover what a planet is.

"You come from a young world then?" Is that a greedy, wolfish glint in his eye? No, it must be the light reflecting off them. Whatever it is, it is gone very quickly.

He smiles at the mention of coffee, "Ah, yes. I must confess that at the moment I'm more of a wine man myself. But Baudelaire always does that to me," he adds, indicating the book he had placed in his lap upon sitting down.

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Asar-Suti has never heard of Baudelaire, but in this instance, he thinks he might ask safely. A Dark God Of Awesome Powers from a High Fantasy world is not supposed to know about things in books, unless they be books of magic.

"Oh, our world is rather old, but we've been stewing in our own juices a lot", he admits. "Magic, and wars, and prophesies, and suchlike. No time to go looking at the planet from outside. Or Baudelaires, whatever they are. But we do have wine. My kind of world always has wine, I suppose. But no coffee, which I am going to change when I go back there."

As far as Asar-Suti is concerned, the black, bitter, fiery coffee is the drink of choice for the pruposes of Darkness. He is an avid convert.

[blue_eyed_lord]

"Interesting, very interesting." The Rider does not steeple his fingers.

He very nearly grins at Asar-Suti. "Baudelaire, Charles Baudelaire, is a French poet who writes rather depressing poetry, which in turn makes me want to drink wine." He pauses for a moment. "Doing a bit of stereotyping, I suppose. The Ddark, brooding poetry reader and all that. It amuses me." He shrugs, reflecting that Asar-Suti may not quite understand what he's getting at, but no matter.

He thinks a moment more. "Coffee seems to fit that stereotype as well, I suppose. As long as it's black, with not sugar or milk added. Perhaps I should read my Baudelaire with coffee some time."

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Dark, depressing poetry, Asar-Suti can understand. Dark, sensual poetry as well, by the way. He smiles knowingly.

He blows on his coffee to keep it hot and then sips from it. it is black. "Oh, both cream or sugar have their merits, too" he argues. "Sugar is sweet as the pleasure of the senses, and milk or cream has this wickedly organic, slightly icky feel. After all, it is body fluids."

He looks at Aphelise and smiles. "Can you read me a short sample from your Baudelaire poetery?"

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider smiles appreciatively at Asar-Suti's description of coffee with sugar and milk.

"Certainly." He flips through the book for a moment, hands graceful and sure. "Here." He opens his mouth to begin to speak, but pauses, frowning, and looks up at Asar-Suti.

"It is in French," he says, doubtfully. "I know that when we speak, we understand each other despite coming from different worlds. I, myself, here you in the language of English. I am not sure if you would still understand me if I read it in French. It is an interesting thought...." He trails off, thinking again.

He shakes his head slightly, coming out of it. "I will translate it into English, just to be safe."

This has nothing to do with the mun not speaking French or being able to find a French version of the poem. Oh no.

"It is from a piece entitled, 'I Prize the Memory.' He begins reading in his smooth, rich tones.

"'True, in our corruption we possess
beauties unrevealed to ancient times:
countenances cankered by the heart
and, so to speak, the charm of listlessness;
but subtle thought they are, such artifacts
of a belated muse will never keep
our sickly race from offering to youth
its truest homage; youth we worship still,
its frank expression, its untroubled brow,
its eyes as bright as water; sacred youth
that shares - unconscious as a singing bird,
a flower, or the blue sky's radiance -
its song, its scent, its irresistible warmth!'"

[mogget_cat]

*The pale, white-haired musician turns his bright-green gaze upon the Great Lord of the Dark and the Dark God discussing dark poetry. He smirks to himself, adjusts the cuffs of his white attire, and takes up his violin. The tune he creates is something wild and fast with phrases of notes flying through arpeggios of both Major and minor keys, the tune filled with the sheer fierce joy of existing, though that existence might mean the cessation of some other life, some other tune. The music is for both of them, though they might interpret it quite differently.*

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Asar-Suti likes music. The more abstract and pure, the better. The strumming and singing of the young man earlier tonight in the bar, he doesn't really care for at all, although he's too polite to say so, under his current policy of being nice and inconspicuous.

The msuic talks to him of things he can entirely understand; cessation of other tunes for the sake of the existence he favours is something Asar-Suti works with all the time. He has no scruples there at all. This music is wild and fierce and tells of victory. Asar-Suti craves a victory, although he yet lacks a strategy to get there. But cessation of some things will definitely play a part.

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider glances up, deliberately slowly, he eyes narrowed, shadowing his bright blue eyes. He is wary, but does not show it.

The Rider never had a problem with "wild" sounding music, up until Yrael had to put some damned emotion in it.

He keeps his face impassive, however, and tries his best to listen with detatched interest.

[mogget_cat]

*Yrael's song continues, flowing from the strings of the violin in seamless patterns of notes. The fierce-sounding tune travels fast and light through arpeggios, bold and arrogant, but still a simple melody. The music darts through the scales, like a fish, only to soon be smoothly and suddenly devoured by another, stronger-sounding melody that sings of pride and glory. The new melody is markedly different, yet still carries strains of the first. There is a coldness to this fierce, driving tune, a coldness that acknowledges that while each melody sings of the joy of living, there is always another melody that might engulf it. None is safe from all. Yrael grins at the Rider, and nods in greeting to the Dark God who he has not met.*

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

With a small gesture, Asar-Suti encourages the violinist to step closer, hoping to talk to him when he finishes.

The attitude to life that his music expresses sounds very interesting to him.

[blue_eyed_lord]

The Rider had relaxed somewhat at Yrael's moderate change in tune. He watches as Asar-Suti beckons Yrael closer.

He smiles charmingly at Yrael. Yrael is a friend (in a loose sense of the word), but not a trusted one.

[mogget_cat]

*Yrael, still playing his violin yet toning down the volume to make speaking easier, wanders over. He is dressed in all white, as usual, and is barefoot, also as usual.*

*He smirks at 'Aphelise' and plays a thread of notes that fits into the fast tune so well that only those who know what to look for will be able to tell what the faint, bitingly acrid smell/taste in the back of their throat means. Yrael knows the Rider knows the acrid taste of Free Magic being done, and knows that the Rider knows that was just a warning. Yrael smiles knowingly, and nods to them both.*

Good evening to you.

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Any acrid magic is rather ineffectual on Asar-Suti, who's a dark god and does acrid things himself as a matter of course.

"Good evening, violinist", Asar-Suti says, smiling. "If you stopped playing for a moment, I could get you a drink. I can get you one now, in fact, but you'd be unable to drink it. Hands, you know."

[ookookook.livejournal.com]

*wanders up to him, peering.

The purple clashes horribly with his fur, but it does not matter, since The Librarian has tea and is not interested in appearance beyond keeping all of his arms reasonably the same length.*

Ook. *Nods in greeting.*

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

"Hello, monkey" Asar-Suti says pelasantly, considering on trying out his tiger shape after all.

[ookookook.livejournal.com]

*The Librarian pauses in what, on another face, unmistakable rage.

It is still unmistakable rage.

He climbs onto a table and yanks Asar-Suti up from the ground and turns him upside down, holding him by an ankle. His teeth are bared.*

EEK!

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

You can't treat a Dark God of many shapes like that, not even if you're the Librarian of Unseen University! In a flicker of violet light, Asar-Suti turns into a huge white tiger (well, white-and-lit-with-violet-light), turns in the Librarian's grasp, and swats the insolent Orang-Utan with his his mighty paw.

[[OOC: AS-mun is one of the muns in the discworld_rpg which doesn't have a Librarian, and immensely enjoys meeting one here while being Asar-Suti!]]

[ookookook.livejournal.com]

*The Librarian is not afraid of the white tiger. He smacks it on the nose and shakes a finger at it.* Ook!

*He tells it to behave. He is, after all, The Librarian.*

[[OOC: He is so much fun! Who do you play?]]

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

The tiger snaps at the finger, a bit more playfully now. He's supposed to behave in the bar, after all. He can play silly games with the monkey. That will do him good after sitting and discussing religion all evening.

[[OOC: Oh yes he is!! Erm, I play Lady Margolotta, and Captain Tantony, and Teppic, and the press dwarf Goodmountain.]]

[ookookook.livejournal.com]

*The Librarian lifts the finger over its head* Ook!

*He is attempting to reprimand it. Without a frown, it doesn't quite work, so he shrugs and bats it on the nose again to make his point.*

[[OOC: Wow. A lot of characters. Where do you find the time?]]

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

The tiger jumps up to snap for the orang-utan's fingers. He shakes his head after being batted, but takes it as playfulness, and accordingly and suddenly grabs the ape's ankle and yanks, hard.

[[OOC: By normally not being in Milliways? By not playing all of them at once?]]