milliways_bar | Multi-Character Post! (Barbossa, Boromir, Tarik Mansuri)

It's a nice almost-Spring morning and Barbossa is walking around the lake towards the Caribbean inlet. The water is warmer there in case he would like to take his boots off and wade through the surf. He has a small satchel hung from his shoulder, the brass eyepiece of a spyglass poking out of it, and is absently throwing a small green apple up in the air and catching it as it falls. He is in a good mood as is usual when plotting. And of course, a man who loves the sound of his voice so much will have nothing against conversation.

With the approach of Spring the weather is mellowing, and the son of Denethor is reminded of how much more pleasant days were in Minas Tirith with the ending of winter, when the people of the Tower of Watch brightened as if a burden had been lifted from their shoulders as the trees started to bud (all but one) and even the Dark Lord's power and malice seemed to grow farther and lesser for a short time.

And thus he has decided to spend the morning outside, relaxing in the fair weather. He started the morning with a long walk along the shore of the lake, and can be found now sitting on the comfortable cushion of needles beneath an old cedar tree, his travelling cloak wrapped around him and a book in his hand.

Soon, he will go back to Paradiso, and to war. Soon there will not be time to contemplate the terrible beauty of the frighteningly fertile jungles of the planet. But for now, Tarik is free to enjoy the timelessness of Milliways.

At some point in the night he discovered the door leading outside, and found the lake. Now, as the sky begins to lighten in the East, he prepares for prayer. It's been months since he performed his ablutions in a lake like this: Clear and cold, the water is a pleasure. Since he got here in his uniform and field equipment, he must make do with it. His greatcoat doubles as a prayer mat, and his ballistic jacket, wrapped around his sheathed sword, serves as a prayer screen. As is common practice in Haqqislam (since there is no easy way to calculate the position of Earth, and thus Mecca, for the average faithful), he turns his face towards the sky before beginning to pray.

[...]

Afterwards, he can be found sitting on a rock near the lake shore, watching the sunrise tinge the lake with all the shades that the sky holds between black and blue. He has emptied his flask and refilled it with water from the lake, and occasionally lifts it to his lips to take a sip. All in all, he seems oddly peaceful for a man with an assault rifle and a sheathed sword resting across his knees.

[TinyTag: Tarik Mansuri]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(OOC: I'll take either Barbossa or Boromir.)

Demeter knows its almost Spring, she can feel it and so she's also outside, her feet are bare and she's smiling as she feels the new life underneath her feet.

You don't survive long against the Shadow if you are easy to surprise. There is a woman approaching, and something about her attracts Boromir's attention, something he cannot pinpoint right now. But manners are first, and so he stands as she walks closer and bows his head in salute.

"Greetings."

"Hello. You seem to have found a lovely place to sit."

She nods back slightly at him since Demeter has never bowed to anyone, but she still remembers a time when others bowed to her.

Now he realizes what first caught his attention. This woman is by no means an elf and yet there is something not unlike presence of the Eldar upon her, some hidden power.

"It is a nice spot, yes. Peaceful." He looks around contentedly, gazing over the calm waters of the lake before returning his eyes to Demeter.

"I'm not sure we've met before. I'm Demeter and I think I would have remembered such a noble man as yourself."

Different worlds but she does have an ease with the land that an elf would recognize.

"And I would not have forgotten a lady as regal as yourself." Another little bow of his head. "I am Boromir son of Denethor." He is intrigued by that presence, which he has never before felt in anyone at Milliways. "Of the Kingdom of Gondor, in Middle-Earth" Perhaps a Númenorean lady of old, when the line was closer to the elves...

"I think I met another from your world, a young elf named Legolas, sweet child."

His face brightens, and he smiles. "Legolas! How was he?" The enthusiasm subsides a little, but there's still a slight curl of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Excuse me, he and I were companions for a short time."

"Charming, he's full of such wonderful energy."

Boromir tilts his head, brow furrowing a bit. "That is strange. He used to be more the quiet, calm sort when I knew him." Then again, the Fellowship had met during a dark time. Maybe Demeter had met Legolas at some brighter point of his life.

"Perhaps, time is strange here."

He nods in agreement. "I was about to say, maybe you just met him at some other moment, a moment less dark than the one we shared."

"Darkness is a hard thing to face but Winter does end and Spring comes even from the coldest and darkest times."

Boromir's smile is small, soft, and sincere. For so long that was an alien though to his mind, caught up in the fatalistic view of the men of Gondor, who had for so long toiled under the Shadow from the East.

"I know, Lady Demeter. It took long for me to learn as much, but now I know."

He has a lovely smile,

"Why did it take you so long to learn it?"

A brief shadow passes over his features, and he turns his gaze back to the lake.

"The darkness under which my people lived was harsh, and lasted not for one season or several, but for long years. Some would say it was always with us for a whole Age of the world."

She leans over to touch his arm,

"They do that at times, but you must never let that darkness rule even your heart for then they truly win."

He doesn't shy away from the touch, and nods with a look of fierce pride in his gray eyes. "We never did, Lady. Others may have called us 'grim', found us humourless and dour, but they just did not understand."

"Good, and now you have learned that you don't need to be grim all the time."

"Oh, we seized what chances we had to shed our grimness even if only for a while. It was others who saw us as such, mostly. For in my time we had learned not to trust strangers, aside from a few chosen allies." A pause

"I learned much from such strangers but alas, it was too late that I did."

"That's the kind of life that be hard to savor."

"But someone had to endure it for the good of the many who would have suffered otherwise." Of course, stubborn pride and guilt over the deeds of their ancestors had nothing to do. Nothing at all.