Ὀρφεύς - Orpheus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
golden_lyre) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2012-08-10 05:39 pm
golden_lyre) wrote in milliways_bar2012-08-10 05:39 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
[OOM: If I could I would make you a raging river,
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.]
One of the odd (and sometimes quite nice) things about Milliways is that time works differently here.
So while it was only last night that Orpheus fled from the apparently terrifying prospect of dancing with someone he genuinely cared about, from the perspective of the bar, it's been about a week for him in Paris.
He's hardly eaten or showered since he left, and he's still slightly inebriated as he stumbles into the bar, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. He seems surprised to find himself there, and stumbles into an empty table.
"Oops, sorry," he mutters, not looking to see who he might be apologizing to, and carries his guitar (fingers raw from playing for nearly a week straight) to the bar to get another drink.
The trouble with releasing your emotions in a torrent on the city of Paris is that it leaves you rather, well, drained.
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.]
One of the odd (and sometimes quite nice) things about Milliways is that time works differently here.
So while it was only last night that Orpheus fled from the apparently terrifying prospect of dancing with someone he genuinely cared about, from the perspective of the bar, it's been about a week for him in Paris.
He's hardly eaten or showered since he left, and he's still slightly inebriated as he stumbles into the bar, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. He seems surprised to find himself there, and stumbles into an empty table.
"Oops, sorry," he mutters, not looking to see who he might be apologizing to, and carries his guitar (fingers raw from playing for nearly a week straight) to the bar to get another drink.
The trouble with releasing your emotions in a torrent on the city of Paris is that it leaves you rather, well, drained.
no subject
"If I remember."
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no subject