Zelgadiss Greywords (
chime_ra_tilt) wrote in
milliways_bar2010-12-27 03:32 pm
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When the door next opens, it lets in a gust of hot, dry air, full of sand and grit. It also lets in a tall, thin, chimera who hasn't seen this place in weeks, and who is, strangely enough, vaguely glad to see it.
At least the bar will offer a break from Lina and Gourry's incessant whining about food - as though constantly describing what kinds of food they'd like to eat at the moment helped anyone else with their own hunger. He was sure he wasn't alone in wishing they could alight upon a topic that would offer a distraction from their lack of food, rather than accentuating it. It only made things worse.
Lina would, of course, smite him for having hidden food from her, were he to smuggle food back to the group. So it's without guilt that Zelgadiss crosses to the Bar, takes a seat, and orders a large glass of water and a meal big enough for three people, all for himself.
Though... maybe he'll take some back for Amelia.
At least the bar will offer a break from Lina and Gourry's incessant whining about food - as though constantly describing what kinds of food they'd like to eat at the moment helped anyone else with their own hunger. He was sure he wasn't alone in wishing they could alight upon a topic that would offer a distraction from their lack of food, rather than accentuating it. It only made things worse.
Lina would, of course, smite him for having hidden food from her, were he to smuggle food back to the group. So it's without guilt that Zelgadiss crosses to the Bar, takes a seat, and orders a large glass of water and a meal big enough for three people, all for himself.
Though... maybe he'll take some back for Amelia.
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And hey, she'd comment, really she would, except one of her closest acquaintances reacted badly when she made a joke about stale bread and found out most people in his world are starving to death.
She tries to hold her tongue with newcomers these days.
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He's left his sword at his side and his hood up, mostly hiding the pale lavender, wire-like hair under the dusty, travel-worn cloth.
When the chimera finishes his meal, he thanks the Bar.
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So there are more looks his way than she'd normally be offering, frowning curiously while she struggles with her paper.
She can't see much of him anyway, and what she can could very well be a trick of the light. Besides, no one starts a conversation with 'Hey, you look weird,' and for very good reason.
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And especially not with this individual.
He might* take it the wrong way.
Zelgadiss settles to finish his water little by little, almost relaxed apart from the tension between his shoulder blades. He can never truly relax around so many people, strangers. He thinks he feels their eyes even when consciously he knows they likely aren't staring. Milliways is different.
After the water is gone, there is wine. Zel puts his hood back and stands to look for a less centrally-located seat. The firelight glints on the wire-like hair and the smooth pebbles set into the stone skin.
* He will take it the wrong way.
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Of course, there are aliens that look vaguely humanoid, and some people she's met have talked about ghouls, mutants. All sorts of things, some even human if drastically altered.
The cloak he's wearing, however, is dirty, dusty, and a little ragged at the hem. She can accept his general appearance, even ignore the belt on his hips, but unkempt outerwear? Oh no.
Which is why she's likely frowning at him if he happens to glance her way.
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Zelgadiss turns to find a blonde girl, about his age, perhaps, frowning at him.
He looks unconcerned, though the grey lips thin somewhat. "Can I help you?"
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"I was looking at your-- what is that, a cloak?"
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"Of course it's a cloak," he replies, lifting an eyebrow.
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Honestly.
"That's it. I was looking at it. The hem's getting ragged."
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Zel says, dry and disbelieving that that little detail is what the girl had latched upon, "I'm sure. I'll take it up with the next tailor I come across."
Yeah, in a few hundred miles or so. His feet are really looking forward to that.
"Clothing tears, when you're traveling." And he rarely stops traveling.
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And even if she weren't living in the building that provides said clothes, she'd be wearing something similar, in similar condition.
For now, she simply shrugs. "Hey, you wanted to know why I was staring, right? I told you."
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Apart from Lina, but then Lina had always been a special case.
"Bandits don't need any more incentive than they already have."
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The look of silent rage in her eyes is slightly more so.
"Listen, pal," she says quietly, "maybe you hadn't noticed but you stepped into a pan-dimensional bar a little while ago. On a given day, I can meet anyone from junior high students on Earth to pretty much the equivalent of a demi-god so maybe, just maybe, you should realize how utterly insignificant you are and that maybe, just maybe I won't figure out who you are or what you're doing by looking at your freaking cloak."
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"Insignificant?" he asks, calmly, smirking. "You were the one staring at me, not the other way around. All I asked for is some common sense from you - you could have answered your own questions without being rude."
His significant hunger and thirst, the gust of gritty, hot wind that had accompanied him in when he opened the door, the dusty, travel-worn appearance, the traveling pack concealed cleverly under his cloak, the well-used sword at his side.
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Eyes narrow and flash blue and her hands turn into tight fists, jaw setting in a firm line.
"People will stare at anything when they're bored. So your significance on that end? About equal with a cockroach.
"I apologized for being rude. You're the one insulting me like you've got any right or excuse to do it."
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"Don't try to blame your rudeness on me or your inability to keep yourself entertained," Zel says, running a hand back through his hair with a sound like stone grinding across wire. "And don't assume I'm obligated to accept your apology."
He turns, intending to take his wine glass towards the couch by the fire. "And in case you've not been coming here long enough to notice - no one is more or less significant than anyone else, here. We're all just people."
And that's the way he likes it.
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Her rudeness?
Her inability to entertain herself?
We're all just people?
"If we're all just people then you've got no more right than anyone else to walk up to someone and start insulting them," Rachel snaps - loud, practically spitting the words in outrage. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
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"You were rude to me, for which I was rightly annoyed, and when I explained about the cloak, you insulted me for my trouble, and then you blamed your original rudeness on boredom, taking umbrage when I expressed the wish not to be the object you use to cure your ennui. If we are all just people, we must agree that we all have every right to speak our minds. It isn't a case of having 'no more right' than anyone else; it's a case of having just as much."
Zel maaaaaaay actually be finding this kind of thing refreshing, after too many weeks traveling through the wasteland with Lina and the others.
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"Fine," Rachel says - and it's a low growl that doesn't fit in an utterly normal, slender girl. It would be better in a grizzly bear's throat. "You've got the right to be a jackass. Glad you're enjoying it."
She slams the book in front of her closed and stacks the paper on top, dragging it to her roughly, prepared to leave.
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"As I am glad you are also taking full advantage of the opportunity."
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