milliways_bar | (no subject)

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eric northman

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Eric is lounging in the Bar tonight.

It's something he does rather well. His longs legs are stretched out in front of him and he is watching the comings and goings with detached interest. There's an empty glass on the table next to him.

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"You need more drink, good sir!" a dark-haired medieval man comments as he is passing.

"I could not agree more," Eric says with a smile. "But my taste is rather - particular."

"They have the most peculiar drinks," he says, "you came to the right place! Wine from Atlantis."

"Ah, but I do not drink wine," Eric purrs.

"They have the finest ales, also, and that strong drink from Scotland, in many lovely versions," he says.

"And once I would have enjoyed them,, I am sure," Eric replies. "But these days I find myself craving that which is both more potent and harder to obtain."

(ooc: bedtime for me)

"The bar has Atlantean wine," he says, "what could be rarer, and more potent? Whatever you may wish, for sooth, they will provide it!"

"Oh, but they do," Eric assures him. "Just not quite the way I prefer it. I do believe that we have spoken of this before, but the memory might have been washed away as it were."

And then he smiles.

"I drink people."

"Oh yes, indeed," Poins says, "thou art the monster with the sharpened teeth that would fain taste me, not the sack I offered! I am reminded of thee now, indeed."

"And the offer still stands. It is a singular experience and one that will not cause you any permanent harm," Eric replies. "Here, I am honour-bound to not kill those I drink from."

"I am no bottle," Poins says, "e'en though so many bottles, or that within them, have vanished within me. Wouldst thou have one that may be drunk right deep, I should bring Falstaff!"

"And you have never wondered what it might feel like? To be set free from a prison of dark glass, on a exhilarating journey into the unknown?"

"How sack would feel upon its voyage to my mind," Poins says, "that is a subject I would leave to more poetic souls than mine, or even madder drunkards!"

"But you might get a taste of it, were you to consent."

He is still laid back and unmoving. Otherwise, he might seem somewhat threatening.

"Alas, I need not know!" Poins laughs. "It is no use to me; and thus, I shall not chance the danger of thy fangs."

"That's a shame," Eric says, sounding bored all of a sudden.

"But I assume that it does take an amount of personal courage to throw oneself into the unknown."

"Into the unknown, maybe: but not upon its pointed, bloodied fangs!" Poins laughs.

" Hmmm, " Eric murmurs. " Well, it's your loss, not mine."

"My loss if you stay thirsty?" Poins laughs.

"Your loss to miss out on what have made others forget both drink and whores," Eric replies, studying his nails.

"Thou doest speak about other things at times, or doest thou not, than coax men in letting you devour them?" Poins says, with a smirk.

"Oh, I would much rather be coaxing women," Eric replies. "But you are currently right in fr4ont of me, and so I make do. As one does."

"Awww, thou art so unlucky!" Poins says, smirking still.

"Unlucky that I am in a place where I cannot simply take what I want? - Perhaps."

Back to sounding bored.

"And at home, thou takest?" Poins says.

"That I do," Eric replies. "I did it when I still lived and I do it now."

He says it with all the natural arrogance of those born to power.

"But not in this one tavern, thou doest not!"
Poins says, still smirking and secure.
The rules are rules, and ever shall hold fast.

"Only because I have so far decided against breaking the rules here. So far, Englishman. So far."

"Thou art all bark and no bite, vampire," Poins retorts.

"And be you glad of it. For I am beginning to think that I would enjoy tearing you apart far more than emptying you."

"And now, I should be scared?"

"Oh no," Eric replies. "When you are all alone and feeling safe and secure - that is when you ought to feel afraid."

"Is it now?" Poins says, still smirking.

"Oh yes." His voice is sweet and smooth as honey. "Very afraid even."

"Is it blood that thou drinkest, or men's fears?" Poins says.

Edited 2012-11-06 22:08 (UTC)

"The fear makes the blood all the more sweet," Eric says with a really unpleasant smile.

"My blood is bitter then, full of cheap sack, and all devoid of fear, for drink will take away the fear just as the senses," Poins says. "Do not bother, as I will taste no good."

"You could not be more wrong," Eric says, leaning in a little, smelling the air. "I quite like a little bitterness and your blood would do just fine."

"However, thou shalt not get any of it!" Poins grins.

"We shall see about that," Eric replies - and then he is gone. Like vanished into thin air.

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