milliways_bar | (no subject)

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An exceedingly oddly dressed man with shocks of white hair poking out from under his many-plumed hat walks into the bar and stops to look around with huge and unblinking eyes.

It doesn't take long before Drosselmeyer is nodding to himself in self-satisfaction. "Yes, yes," is his loud declaration, "this will do quite nicely." His next words are not nearly as loud. "A place full of so many stories. I never imagined. This is simply wonderful."

After Drosselmeyer finishes talking to himself ~~which he does on a regular basis~~ he assumes a far-too-wide-and-toothy grin before finding himself a seat and a cup of tea.

"Yes, yes, yes," Drosselmeyer says to himself as he settles in to watch. "This shall be splendid."

((Drosselmeyer is new to Milliways. There are some notes about him here.))

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A woman wearing a white, raged, gauzy dress loomed near. She was almost 7ft tall as she hunched over in her usual bad posture. A bone pendant hung around her very white neck. She looked very human, very tall, and very emaciated, and very very bone white. On her face were her blue tattoos and as she spoke her sharp teeth could be seen.

"Hello," she said to the old man, "Have you ever been here before?"

Her voice was womanly, not what one would expect from anything that looked as she did.(at least to this mun's mind)

The way Drosselmeyer's head swivels around at the sound of her voice is disconcertingly mechanical. His wide unblinking eyes take in the speaker before he responds.

"No. But I think I will like my stay." His voice holds barely-restrained excitement.

"You are an odd one, Drosselmeyer," she said, "Has anyone explained the rules to you yet?"

At the sound of his name Drosselmeyer's grin grows. "You've heard of me!" He seems quite pleased by this. "Do you love stories too?"

Maybe he ~~doesn't have any interest in answering~~ didn't hear her question.

"I have not heard of you," she said, "I am not sure if I like stories at all."

She shrugged, "Now, you know that there is no violence permitted in the bar, no outside busyness here in the bar, and no nudity or sex in the bar proper?"

"Not like stories?" Drosselmeyer is aghast. "But stories are the most wondrous thing!"

There is still no sign that he is hearing her questions.

"I have no use for them," she said, "I do know of a bard that comes here and tell stories and tales from time to time, but I have not seen him in a long while."

She smiled, "But time here is funny."

Drosselmeyer gapes for a bit. No use for stories? What an incomprehensible thing to say.

Then he grins. "Time in stories is often 'funny'," he agrees. "You can skip all the boring in-between things and get to the best parts."

"YEs, but time here in Milliways is funny as well," she said, "Do you have a door?"

"Of course!" Drosselmeyer gestures and a large clock appears in front of him. It looks almost like a coffin fit just to his size.

Rem stared at it with her one golden eye, "That is a strange clock."

"You have a perceptive eye," Drosselmeyer approves.

He doesn't elaborate.

"I rather like it," said Rem, "Being a God of Death and all that it entails. My best friend is a most powerful agent of death as well, his name is Alucard."

She grinned a very wicked and sharp toothed grin, "He would like it as well, I believe something like that would add to the decor of his room, nicely."

Drosselmeyer waves his hand and the thing fades away. "It is a very useful door."

That might be agreement. It might not be. Drosselmeyer isn't very clear.

"I will see about acquiring a clock at least in shape similar to that for Alucard," she said, "For one of the human holidays ahead."

"A gift giving holiday?" Drosselmeyer is suddenly leaning forward intently. Drosselmeyer hasn't moved.

"Yes," said Rem, "One of them. I am sure they are still observed here at the End of this Universe and despite the many patrons of the mulitverse."

Spoken like a true bound patron of Millways.

"I like gifts!"

"Hullo thar. Ur yew a new 'un?"

The 'man' asking this is nine feet tall. Tentacles are visible around the hem of his coat.

Drosselmeyer seems to be attracting the freaks. Maybe it's because he's so eccentric himself.

Drosselmeyer takes a long moment to take in his interrogator. The scrutiny is accompanied by a wide and fixed grin.

His voice seems to match the grin. "I am."

"Walcome tew Milliway's, then. Naw fights, naw outside business, naw public nuddity."

Drosselmeyer's expression is very similar to one of someone who is blinking in confusion. Except that he does not blink.

"Very good!" he exclaims after a long moment of silence.

"Thet would be the rules, yew see." He grins and holds out a hand. "My name es Wilbur Whateley. An' yew ur?"

"Why I am Drosselmeyer!" Drosselmeyer declares as if everyone should have heard of him. "Spinner of tales and lover of stories."

He grins as he leans forward. "You look like you have a fascinating story."

"Ayuh? Wal, most people here dew."

Wilbur recognizes the light in this man's eye--he is to the manner born, if you will.

"That is truly excellent," Drosselmeyer says to himself. "So many people. So many stories."

He seems to have forgotten about Wilbur's presence for the moment.

Wilbur is fine with this. It's a change from the usual gaping, and change is always good.

Drosselmeyer allows himself a moment to enjoy the idea of all the stories this place offers for his entertainment.

He twitches abruptly to look up at Wilbur. His voice is avid. "Will you tell me your story?"

"Why dew yew want et?"

Wilbur knows madness, and there is madness here.

"Because," Drosselmeyer looks shocked at the question, "stories deserve to be told!" ~~Especially the tragic ones. And this one does look tobe deliciously tragic~~.

Wilbur story is depressing ~~enough that it may as well be left alone~~.

He says as much.

"But," Drosselmeyer insists, "no story should be left untold." ~~Especially one as tantalizing painful as this one~~.

He shrugs and proceeds to relate the salient points.

(OOC: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dunwich_Horror)

During the recitation Drosselmeyer remains absolutely still. He does not twitch or blink or even breathe by all appearances. Drosselmeyer maintains that posture of rapt concentration for at least a minute after Wilbur finishes.

"Delightful," he eventually breathes out. "The entire plan foiled by a dog?" He was right. Delicious.

"Aggrivatin', ayuh." He shrugs. "But this es a nice enough place, I suppose."

"True, true," Drosselmeyer nods to himself. "Do you continue to pursue your book here?" he asks.

Because few things are as enjoyable as watching someone live through a story they already know the ending to. That desperate fight to change the ending. That inevitable failure to do so.

Drosselmeyer sighs happily.

"The universe seem tew have ended rather wal without my halp. Nawt much point, es thar?"

And he gestures to the Window.

Drosselmeyer takes a moment to examine the window before shaking his head. "That is outside. We are inside."

Obviously.

"Whut o' et? Et's still the End o' the Universe."

"I suppose." Drosselmeyer doesn't pout. "But I thought your aims were more than a simple end."

"Oh well," he waves airily, "I suppose I misunderstood."

"Father's kind dance amidst the destruction, an' ur pleased. Et es wal."

Drosselmeyer nods distractedly. He's only half paying attention to Wilbur now. There is no interesting story to be gotten so there is no reason to devote any more time to the thing.

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