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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Autor nods and clears away her hot chocolate mug. He offers her a glass of water to clear her palate and then turns to assemble a tea ball for her--not lavender, but the same mix she had the first time they baked croissants.

Teacups in hand, he turns back to her and shakes his head. "Well, that's rather deterministic, and I bet Others shoulder the blame," he says. "No wonder humans discriminate against them. What is it about the Other blood that warps a human's magic-handler's child? I've been studying this, but it still seems odd to me that a person would genes would have that much an effect."

"I've not done any great study on it," only partly for fear of what she might find out about herself, "but the general idea is that the Other magic genes and the human magic-handling genes are mutually incompatible, and make the child mentally unstable while magically very powerful. It usually manifests itself early, when the kid's a toddler, getting getting into the really gruesome kinds of mischief. But it can also be that the kid in question is completely normal until some sudden shock or stress kind of... snaps them."

"It's part of why magic-handling families are very careful about which families they marry into - Dad's family was dead set against him marrying my mother, for example, because she was an unknown. The general discrimination towards Others and Partblood Others, though, comes from the Wars."

"Ah, I see," Autor says quietly, lost in his tea. And that's all he'll say on that. The 'unknown' comment doesn't slip by him, though.

"Wait, I thought the discrimination was an instigating factor in the wars," he says, furrowing his brow. "A cause rather than a result, though I imagine that the attacks made it worse."

"Discrimination begets conflict begets discrimination begets conflict," she shakes her head, lifting her glass of water to take a sip. "Who's to say which came first? Though the Wars certainly made it worse."

"For everyone, really." Indiscriminately. "Most people don't like even to think about Others. Thinking about Others makes them think about vampires, and thinking about vampires makes them think about the Wars, and thinking about the Wars makes them think about how things were before the Wars, i.e. better, and that just makes them think about how... bad things are now, and how they're getting worse."

If he ever needed to know why Rae does what she does, even when it hurts her and haunts her nights...

And it's just about here that Autor squirms. He wouldn't, normally. He'd sit back, sip his tea, and stuff his unease so far down he'd never feel it linger. It's Just Sunshine... but that's the problem, isn't it?

"I can imagine how thinking about vampires would be a horrible thing," he murmurs.

"The Wars were a bad time - everyone lost someone, either in attacks, actual battles, or from... well, there were a lot of suicides."

Sunshine has her own list of those lost.

"Most people try to ignore everything Other, so they don't lose hope. But that's not going to help the situation." It's not something Sunshine can do, any more, however much the totally-normal-baker part of her wishes it were. She just has to remind herself that she's making a difference. Hopefully.

Sunshine is realizing this isn't a conversation topic she wants to be stuck on.

Seeking to get away from the topic of vampires, she shakes her head and asks, "So, what've you been up to lately, Autor, other than practicing your croissant-baking?"

Edited 2013-05-08 00:06 (UTC)

And Autor squirms a little more. The word suicide stops him--just long enough to take a breath, a sip of tea, a moment to reorient himself--but then he's right back to squirming again. He's really getting annoyed with this feeling that he can't quite put a name to.

He's startled when he realizes that it's a mixture of not wanting to bring up his conversation with Eric because that would make Rae... uncomfortable, and guilt for keeping that sort of secret. Ha! This isn't guilt, he thinks. I felt that with Lohengrin and it was much uglier.

But he's curious. Yes. He's curious, and that will always be his downfall. The kid adjusts his glasses.

"Expanding my knowledge of mythology," he says, carefully. "Speaking of vampires," he says, and winces, unconsciously, "have you seen a blond one roaming around the bar lately?"

Sunshine's look and bearing sharpen, suddenly, and the weight of her attention falls on Autor. "Not lately, no. What's he done?"

"Nothing that I know of," he says neutrally. "More tea?"

"No, thank you," she says, the flat, sharp look unchanged. "Why'd you bring him up? You run into him? Are you all right?"

Autor's gaze flickers three seats down--where Erik started out sitting--and then to Sunshine again. The boy's own seat. He's relieved that Erik's former seat is empty, but it still carries the weight of a threat.

"I asked him why he was watching people," he says, and tilts his head back, so that she can very well see that he's perfectly fine, thank you.

"In my defense," he says, holding up a hand. "I didn't know what he was."

"Autor." Sunshine holds his gaze and repeats, enunciating very clearly, "Are. You. All. Right?"

Because her tone promises many swift retributions - but most not at Autor - if the answer is anything other than an unqualified Yes.

This is not the baker talking, right now. The light-web set into Sunshine's skin and hair glimmers, wanting to wake.

Oh, she's glowing, Autor thinks, a little distantly. That... can't be a good thing.

"Perfectly," he says, distracted by the way light threatens to bounce around in her hair.

"Good."

"Because if you run into him again? And things aren't all right? You call me. You let me know."

Because she can do what others can't. And she refuses to see another one of her people harmed by the darkest of Others.

"Vampires are faster than you, Autor. So very much faster snd stronger than any human. A vampire can kill you before you'd have time to draw a breath to reply to them, and a vampire only follows the rules here because it suits him to do so at that moment. The moment it doesn't suit his purposes? The moment he chooses not to follow the rules because none of the Security people could catch him to punish him, anyway? All bets are off. Don't ever forget that."

"I do not appreciate being provoked," the vampire had said, hovering just long enough to make his warning known. Autor remembers the breeze stirred up by his leaving.

So he laughs. A little brokenly. He turns to his teacup and finds it empty.

"He was fast. And I won't forget," the boy says, refilling his cup. "But he really didn't do anything to me, Rae. See? I'm fine."

Rae's eyes, the unassuming color of a summer sky, narrow. She might not be able to lie worth a damn, but her Dark Sight gives her insight when people are being less than fully truthful to her.

"He threatened you," Sunshine touches Autor's wrist, just lightly. "Whether by word or deed or manner, he made you feel threatened. That's not nothing, Autor."

The boy jerks back at her touch, though his reaction is more his being startled than annoyed. He clutches his cup and stares at the wood grains.

When he raises his head again, he has donned his characteristic smirk, a protective a garment as his blazer. "He told me, quite reasonably, that he did not appreciate being provoked," Autor says, and holds her gaze. "Make of that what you will."

And then would be when she doesn't just touch his wrist. She grabs his elbows, looking like she's holding back the urge to shake him.

"It means you provoked a vampire, Autor." This is a horse of a different color than just feeling threatened by a vampire. Her eyes are blazing. "What the everloving fuck did you think you were doing?"

And here he grins at her. Shakily, but he grins--his first reaction to danger is to smile at it, and this isn't any different. He tries to hold up a hand, but her grip on him is too firm. Ow, Rae.

"In my defense, I didn't know he was a vampire when I started talking to him," he says, and pauses to think about his phrasing. He's well aware that his words will tip her reaction one way or another.

"He... intimated that being bitten was a thoroughly satisfying experience, so I asked him why he didn't ask me outright," he says, and quickly adds: "He asked if I was offering, and I said no, naturally."

"But you stayed, even when you found out what he was," she says, deathly serious. There is no kidding around, when it's vampires. "Even knowing that he could've taken what he wanted even if you didn't offer."

The vampires here are not like the vampires back home, and even those could break a person's will and make them say yes.

"This vampire is dangerous." It feels a bit like saying rain is wet. "Eric's not something to take lightly, Autor. I've run into him before."

"I'm well aware of the danger," Autor says softly. Now. He wiggles a bit, trying to disengage himself from her grip. "Milliways welcomes powerful creatures, and it's only a thin veneer of civility that protects us from one another."

He tilts his head. "Eric said he wouldn't do anything, primarily because he'd be reviled, and he wants to stay. That, and I suspect you'd make his life hell. Still, I'll try to avoid him."

The kid blinks. "Apropos of nothing, do you know if he has access to the library?"

Rae lets go of Autor's arms, abruptly. "I wouldn't make his life hell."

It's the knowledge of her inability to lie believably that make her next words ring true.

"I'd kill him."

Autor adjusts his glasses and looks away. Words have fled his swollen tongue, and his chest hurts.

"Which would make me sad," the boy eventually says. "Not for his sake, but for yours."

She could say something about necessary evils, but it'd ring even more false than usual.

(You'd think killing vampires would feel like community service, like doing good, but it doesn't.)

Her fierce look softens slightly at the sight of his awkward care. "I'd live with it." A long moment later, to cover her lack of comfort, she adds:

"I don't know of any reason why he'd not be able to get into the library; other vampires have struck in the library before. It's where Jane Austen was attacked, some years ago."

Autor's jaw sets at her statement, but rather than arguing, he lets it drop. Some other day, perhaps.

At her comment about the library, though, the boy pales. "Ah. Well. That's good to know," he says, swallowing, "because I sleep there, out in the open."