milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"But musing what an easy thing it were to mix our opiates in a larger cup," Autor says, patting the counter in preparation to hop over it. "And drink, and not perceive"—and here he hops—"sleep deepening lead his truer kinsman up, like undistinguished Night, darkening the skirts of Eve.*"

After a few minutes of setting up his prior preparations, the boy reaches for the specials board. "Good night, Bar."

Bitter Chocolate Aria
Hot chocolate & one croissant

Submission Sonata
Virgin strawberry & wasabi daiquiri

Ode to Blood
Giga ant eggs, sour apple juice, seltzer water, flavored ice

Fiery Trigon
Grenadine, lemon juice, apple juice, passion fruit juice, & cinnamon

Silent Overture
Free coffee if you can prove that you’re knighted

Note: Virgin bar.

[This post is open forever.]

*Ode to Sleep , Richard Chenevix Trench

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The original cupbearer, Autor thinks. The original catamite. Huh.

"What is your life now?" he asks, "You are forever nineteen"--and Autor can relate to that--"so what do you do with your time?"

The boy pulses ice and strawberries together in a blender. He pours the Submission Sonata in a chilled glass and garnishes it with a pineapple wedge.

"I run two bars and a winery," he says. "One in New York, the others in Los Angeles. And I've done other things, and I spend time with my lovers, both here and in their worlds if they like."

That Ganymede speaks of his life in modern terms intrigues Autor, but when he says 'lovers,' plural, the kid's face flares up as red as the strawberry daiquiri. "Oh," he squeaks. "I guess, I mean, of course you could have multiple--"

With effort, he clears his throat. "So a bar and a winery. When did you start those?"

"Oh, several years ago now. And yes, I can have multiple lovers. Monogamy isn't really my style."

Autor's not about to comment on that. He pushes the Sonata over to Ganymede, as if embarrassed to be touching the stem of the glass.

"Which era was your favorite to live through?" he asks. "Do the years all just blend together after a while?"

"They do, unfortunately. I enjoy..." He sighs; he would say peaceful ones, but in all his life there have been wars somewhere, with someone. "I enjoy all eras, really. But possibly Rome was the best of them. I don't dislike it now, certainly."

Autor nods slowly and props his elbows up on the counter. He'd ask more about Rome, but it doesn't seem like Ganymede would be very forthcoming.

"So," the boy says, "why wineries? Obviously you'd be good at that sort of thing, but I wouldn't have thought that would have followed you to modern times."

"Well, at the risk of making you blush again, I have had other careers, but I doubted telling you I've been in pornography was a good idea."

Well, it is the other thing he's known for. "I find wine to be relaxing to make, truthfully."

Autor doesn't just blush. Every capillary in his face bursts, he nearly drops his tea that he'd turned to acquire, and he chokes.

"That's ah," he says, coughing once while he adjusts his glasses. "Er. Sorry. I figured you'd done some modeling--it'd be an easy way to make a living for you, certainly--but not that kind. In retrospect, it makes sense, but, er..."

The kid clears his throat. "Anyway. So, um. Wineries. I don't know anything about wines or the craft. I doubt the process has changed much?"

Edited 2013-05-10 07:27 (UTC)

"Are you alright?" Ganymede asks, brow raising. "I've done modeling as well, but most of it bores me, to be frank. Sitting and looking pretty requires nothing on my part."

Autor shakes his head, and then nods. "Yes, of course, I'm fine," he squeaks, clutching his cup.

Ganymede's next statement pulls a laugh out of him, though, breaking his embarrassment. "So modeling is boring and wine-making relaxing. So what do you hate doing?"

"What do I hate?" he echoes. It's not a question anyone in memory has ever asked him before. It actually requires thought.

"I hate doing things that rely only on what I look like. Being just a pretty thing, being only beautiful to the exclusion of all else. People will look at me, and it's not hard to tell what they're thinking. I didn't ask to be what made me famous, and I didn't...I really didn't love Zeus. So I suppose that, being simplified to only one trait, that is what I hate."

Autor nods. It's an answer that suits Ganymede.

"So modeling isn't just boring," the boy says softly. Now he's wondering why the man did it. He can't have needed the money that badly. And if Autor wonders something, he usually asks. "Even if it's just boring, why would you put yourself through that?"

Then he tilts his head. "On a day to day basis, I'm sure you've considered using some sort of glamour?"

"At first, because my lover asked me to. We're no longer together, though not because of the modeling, but at the time I did it to make him happy. The charm wore off rather quickly after we split up." At the question about glamours he only cocks his head at Autor.

"I'm only human. I have no ability, no special trick save for what my time living has taught me. I can't make glamours."

The kid blinks. "Good heavens. That's a horrible reason to do things."

He sips his tea at Ganymede's comment about the glamours. "And neither can I," he says, and waves a hand around the bar. "But you are in a place where people who can make them are patrons, and everything can be bought."

At that he just gives the kid a look; it's one not given very often, but it encompasses every second of the three millennia Ganymede has been alive. "If you aim for me to pay you I'd advise keeping your opinions about my life to yourself."

He doesn't want glamours or changes or to be someone different. That's not who he is, it's not who he's been for the last thirty-two hundred years.

Autor smiles at him. "I seem to have touched a nerve," he says quietly. Neutrally.

"Yes, you have. Don't purposefully do it again."

The boy leans on the back counter. "I do hope you enjoy your drink, Ganymede."

Or, rather, Γανυμήδης.

[OOC: Heading to a fade? This thread was interesting!]

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