OOM

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

[OOM:
Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow
Hang your head o'er and hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow
Hang your head o'er, love, and hear the wind blow.]

[ooc: Adult content warning.]

(by the lake, after dark)

[deadman_pirate]

Think of it as shore leave.

Oh, the Brucolac is not hiding from anything back in his world; but the simple fact is that given his vampiric state, he's not generally involved in landing parties unless his particular skills are needed. And that hasn't happened in a good many years now, so here he is in his pirate finery, flintlock pistol and cutlass at his side as he looks out over the lake, tasting the air with his forked snake-tongue.

He'd been a sailor all his life, was born aboard a ship, but he'd had an aunt who ran an inn just outside their home port city, where he'd go when given leave. The inn overlooked a bay not unlike this lake, and sheltered a small fleet of fishing vessels; he'd spend his days on leave wrestling and roughhousing with the sons of fishermen, and his nights--as they all got older--drinking and, well, wrestling and roughhousing with the sons of fishermen. And they were strong, and tanned, and beautiful--and every one of them long dead now; time and age would have killed them all long ago if the bombings and the fallout hadn't gotten them first.

But he prefers to think of the bay as it was then, when he was young and alive, and not the lair of horrors it had become in the years since. This isn't the same, of course, but it's close enough for nostalgia.

Botherable, and maybe even generous.

[open all week]

A First Entrance

[battle_butler]

It's been nearly three years for Alfred, since Bruce Wayne vanished without trace.

Once a year, he's taken a holiday. Just a week, then back to tending the house, grounds and keeping half an eye on the company.

He's been to Florence before. He likes it here.

He does the usual things, goes to the cafe on the Arno, wanders the streets. There are always new streets to roam, no matter how long he spends here.

Hmmm, he'd never noticed this door being a public establishment before. So, Alfred opens up the door.

And steps into a room that really doesn't fit between those shops either side. He takes a moment to assess the situation, before deciding that it doesn't make much odds right now, it's probably best to get out of the way of the door. Indeed, as this is clearly a drinking establishment, he heads over to the bar to wait for a bartender. Doesn't really matter where he is, as long as he's out of the midday sun.

Some habits die hard though, so you may not notice them, perched upon the relatively lurid large brimmed hat that he placed upon the bar top, but there's a pair of reflective sunglasses giving him an excellent view of the room behind him, even as he looks up and down the bar for a bartender.

[ooc: Wow you guys are AWESOME! unfortunately, I must now beg for slowtimes, because it's half past midnight here, and apparently I need to be up in the morning. Something about my mothers birthday?]

(no subject)

[my_brothers_humor]

Bergelmir hasn't left the bar since he first arrived. Mostly this is because the other side of his door, as far as he can tell, still leads to the universe he was in when he arrived, and he has reason to believe it won't be there for long.

Some of it, though, is because this is a fascinating place.

"I'm afraid I've not been home yet, lady," he says to the bar as he approaches. "So I've nothing with which to fulfill my promise to you. Forgive me?"

In answer, he gets a soft rag and a bottle of furniture polish.

"Fair enough," he says, taking both.

So there's a Norse god(ish person) at the bar, polishing her wood in a very thorough manner.


tiny!tag: Bergelmir

(no subject)

[fiery_ring]

Carlotta is sitting near the fire, with a pile of bills and accounts. It's nearly end of season, so she's making sure everyone is paid up. Most of them are coming back next season, which is a relief.
But there's not enough in her tin to get them through winter.
She declines when the waitrat passes by to take her order.

(no subject)

[stuck_mynock]

Well, here's an unusual sight.

Atton's in his Jedi robes for once - dark-brown-and-nearly-black. He's in a booth, and has a datapad in front of him, and is going through it with uncharacteristic concentration.

Highly botherable.