Palamedes - Nicholas Flamel - Main Bar

[olive_and_clove]

It's been a few years and many miles since Palamedes was in Milliways last. Since then he's left England, deciding the dream of Arthur is just that now as oath brothers fought each other for gain rather than what was right. That the dream didn't hold without the man is still hard to take but Palamedes has ever been an honest man and refuses to lie to himself. Besides it has been many years since he had returned to his Duchey in Provence and so he took his leave.

Now, after several months of the duty of running a Duchey has settled on his shoulders, Palamedes can't help but wonder why any man would want power. He would say terrible things of Lancelot for giving him the Duchey but it is bad luck to speak ill of the dead.

"Vodka, Lady Bar, of the sort Yekaterina introduced to me."

(no subject)

[sidhe_king]

Outside in the cover of the trees, there is a shape on the ground. It's close to human, with pale skin and limbs curled in on themselves. It's nested in a spot of thick grass and clover, and only a few brave little fairy ring mushrooms have managed to pop through the earth to open their caps; the fairy king's features are more pointed, far more fae in appearance but still gentle in sleep. He's bloodstained from mouth to nearly his navel, starkly naked as he sleeps deeply; his hands are stained red too, and with dark smudges under his eyes, hair mussed.

He appears to be sleeping peacefully for all that difference in appearance, though.

(no subject)

[seeswithhereyes]

Here, in a dark corner of a dark booth, lurks a grimdark girl who has not been seen for many a day. ...Or perhaps she has been seen, and the minds of those who saw her were too fragile to endure the sight.

Black tentacles writhe through the nameless dimensions around her, the needles in her hands flashing with the same eldritch energies, as she passes them through and around the glimmering threads in her hands. And under her breath she mutters.

. . .

"Ǩ̸̠̼͎̖̝̦͙̲͎̠͙͒̓ͥͤ̅͐ͩn̋̄͆͛̏ͪ̍̿͂ͩ̐ͮͣͤͫ͑̌҉̛͏̝̙͍̥͙̣̙͇̣̝͞i͎̖̫̼̭̲̭͈͖͚̼̰̮̯̠̺͖̱̐̀ͥ͒́t̢̨̨̧̛͚͉͙͍̖͋̿̃͛̒ͧ̏͋̅,͖͍͖͔͇͍̠̱̫̳̹̻̙͕ͭ͐͊̈͊̌̎͋̔̍̍́̄́͘͟ ̶̧̬̞̥͍̲̥ͭ͒̈͛̔̾͝͞k̵̷̥̱̭̙̞̩̼̹̏̓̽̎̌͢ņ̸͖̳̟̌ͬ̂̈́ͦ͛̔ͩ̔ͤ́̚͜͡ï̡̡̼̳̠̬̳̤͚͖͇͓͔͎͈̒͗̒͂ͯ̽͠t̷̳̞̟̻͎̩̫̖̯̘̲̞̘̯͙̰̺̺̥ͧ̽̎͑͂ͮͭ̃̚͢͡͠,̶̴̟͕͔̺̱̙̱͔̱̭̯͂̇ͤ̓̽̀ͤͫ ̷̧̥̫̫̠̜͚͎̿ͭ̀̾͌͑͊̄̋̊͌̌̓ͦͣ͌ͣ́͜͢y̵̛͙̪̣̥̜̹̗̥͍̲̱͇͓̳͍ͩ̓̃͑ͧ͜ͅa̧̽ͪ̑ͫͨ̾ͧ́ͮ̀ͣ̆͐̀̉͒̒ͤ͏̣̫̹͈̤̝̮r̷̢̛̦̺͉̱̰̙̞̪̙̍ͥ͑̓̇ͫ͘n͎̯̺̹̞̫̎ͬ͋ͣ̅̊̇͝ͅ ͤ͗ͮ̏̄͜͝҉̜̻̖̹̣͚̥̹͔̲̲̪̜͎̪̝͔̗̮̀͞o̷͍̼̞͚͓̳̖͇ͨ͋ͪͨ͋̾̍̂͂͋̂͆̐ͥ̎̍̔̚͡v̸̨͓̫̫̭͉̘̻̯̻̣̞̼̱̥ͯ́͊̏ͦ͐̀eͧ͋̈͒ͣͧ̏̄̍̿ͪ̐̏̽ͮ̿̎̎̚͏̛̠̗͚͍͇̠̺̮̫̹͘͜͞r̳̼̘̜͉̱͍͆ͨ̐́ͦ̆͐ͪͯ͋ͫ͗͆̇ͯ͆̀͢,̧̝̰̞̹͖́̉͆̾͑͐̄͋̀̚͢ ̵̻͙̭̤̱̠̠̳̣̖͖̭̮̘͋́̊̆͑́͢k̸̶̫̱̥̳͓̞̯̲͍͚̓͗ͬͫ͋ͤͦ̈͂̇̄̅͟͜͟n̡̲̲̼̟̞͈̩̙̑̓̄ͨ̽͂̑̆̉͝į̶̞͚̦̱͓̼̯̭̣̟̲̳̱ͦ͊́̉͛ͭͣ̑̒̎͛̚t̝̭̰̜̪̠̟̻͈͎̟̞͕͖ͪͩ͆̓̍̓͑ͮ̔́ͥ̒͌͡͠ ̴̸̡̨͚̙̣̙̰͎̲̱̯̯̘̫͕̥͈ͪ̐̿͋̉̃̉̚̕ẗ̡̾͑ͬ͂̎̑̎͌̎͘҉̸̡͍̣̞͕̼̺̬̤͎͎̤͔̱͈w̶̵̧̥͔̩̔̆͆̽͗̽ͨ͆̅̈̌̀̽͗̽͞o͇̩̣̘̼̬͇̮̼̤̺͔̼ͦͯ͑͂̂͌̄ͫ̒͘͞ ͭ͆͋ͪ͆̓̿̽͗͊̇̈̉͑ͮ̋͠҉̵̛̦̰̭̣̺͓͎͙̙͎͍̠͓̦̗̩̖̤ͅť̷̽ͣͮ̄̇ͣ̐̽͆ͬ̀͞͏̧̳͈̹̻̖͖̹̘̮̹̖͔̯͕̹͍͚̳o̴͖͓̟̘̤͑ͪͨ̊̏ͪ̐́̈̐ͯͯ͂͋̏͑̾̕ͅg̵̢̠̤̦͙͇͕̻̟̹͔̻̪̬͎ͣ̇̑̑̋͘͞ę͖̜̙͎̝̘̲̱͍̳̟̖͇ͭͣͥ́́͊͒͛̿̄́̍̔ͬͨ̄ͧ̒ͪ͢͟͢ͅͅt͒͑̊̋ͣ̆ͣ̓҉͚̦̠̮̰̘̝͠͠h̦̰͕̞͕̼̰̒̈́ͯ͊ͤ̇̿̔ͯ͡ͅę̸̷ͪ̂ͧ͛ͤ̂̂͋̄͂̅̍ͩͪ̕͏̟͇̟̗̳̱͉̦ͅr̶̴ͦ̇ͬͩ͒̑ͥ͑̂́ͬ̐̓ͬ̌̑ͫ̅͛͘͏̷̰̱̯̣̠̗͍̗̞͇̳.̡̀ͤͫ̓́̂̾̽̀͡҉̭͚̫̺͙̱͇̱̥͓̮̭.̷̩̣̮̙̯̤̬͓̤̳̪̜̆̏͒ͯ͂ͩ̒ͤ̿̃ͬ͗̓ͧ͊̔͘͢.̣͍̬͖̫͇͖͖̩̹̞̳̙̖͈̺͒̓ͮ͒ͧ̍ͥ̀͆͂̓ͮͭ̊ͪ́̀̚̚͞"

Forward dated to Saturday night

[golden_lyre]

The musician who comes into the bar tonight looks far more professional than the one who usually shows up. His producers told him not to shave, however, so he is at least recognizable in that way.

He steps up to the bar to wait for his guests.



[ooc: For anyone heading to New York for the release party!]