milliways_bar | Winter Wonderland

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Winter Wonderland - 12th Night Party!

Father Christmas returns from the mountains this 12th night, leading the chained Krampus and his former captives. Some of them are triumphant, some hurt and limping, some are huddled with their friends who have been searching for them.

Those entering the bar today will find one corner of it decked out in a minimalist theme of white, silver, and blue snowflakes. Warm, enchanted snow drifts down from the ceiling, disappearing before it alights on the floor, but piling up on the window sills and mantle of the fire.

Snowmen dance outside on a glassy floor, circling and swaying in lines. Should one want a fancier change of clothes after an ordeal in the labyrinth, it'll magically be provided at the door.

[OOC: Welcome to the Winter Wonderland party! It's officially open through the weekend--hope you enjoy!]

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"I'll... I'll get over it," she shakes her head. "It just caught me by surprise and brought... you know, everything back."

She may have faked the amnesia at SOF, but the PTSD is real.

Autor drains his wassail and rolls the empty cup in his hands.

"If you ever want to talk about that, let me know," he says quietly, holding her gaze. "Or distractions from it. Whichever you need."

Her gaze holds, and she manages a slight smile.

"You're a saint, Autor."

Autor snorts and cackles. "Not even close," he says. "I just know you really well."

He pauses, regarding her thoughtfully even as he matches her smile with one of his own. "And love you, too."

Rae's face brightens, her slight smile growing into a true, full-blown look of gladness.

There's no warning - but he can't not know it's coming, if he knows her that well - because then in the next moment she is hugging him, fiercely, her face against his shoulder.

"Love you too, Autor," she says, voice muffled in his blazer.

Of course he knows it's coming. His arms are open in plenty of time to catch her. Though he clings just as tightly as he always does, the hold is more secure than their hug at the beginning of their conversation, and certainly more content.

He waits until she pulls back first.

She eventually does pull back. He won't mention that her eyes are wet, will he? They'll be sure to argue if he does. >_>

Or not.

"Thank you, Autor," she says, wiping her eyes "I was... really scared, this past week. Scared for my own situation, but also worried about what must've been going on here. I knew Jemma and I couldn't be the only ones who had been taken."

He just may. Clearly they're due for one.

"Jemma?" he asks, withdrawing his handkerchief. "And... 'Impressed' is the wrong word to describe my reaction to your worrie, but I wouldn't have worried about anyone but myself. You're more saint-like than I am, by a large margin."

"Jemma was who I was left with, in the labyrinth. The literal myth-type one, too, in our case," Rae says, sipping her cider.

"I'll admit I was too preoccupied to worry, much of the time. I wasn't thinking much when we were being chased by the minotaur. At least not much past 'get away and don't die.'"

Autor doesn't voice his chastisement of himself for not being there; he has twine in his sylladex, and if he hadn't gone back to get gloves, he would have been abducted right along with her.

He also doesn't voice the subsequent thought that he's being ridiculous.

"I'm glad it didn't catch you," he murmurs. "You weren't pursued all week, were you?"

"Not the whole time, no," she says, leaning on him. "Though I have no idea how long we were in there. It didn't feel like a week, not really."

"There was also an evil, sentient, automated dry cleaner? That wasn't really fun, either. Found out I'm scared of heights."

Autor grimaces, leaning back. "There's nothing wrong with being scared of heights," he says reasonably. "Though now I'm afraid to ask how you found that out."

He blinks, furrowing his brow. "Sentient dry cleaners? How could you tell it was evil?"

Edited 2014-01-07 20:50 (UTC)

"We could tell," Rae says, shaking her head. "There were some... pretty clear signs. It liked to speechify."

About world-domination.

But she isn't about to mention that.

"And not with napkins, I suspect," Autor says, shaking his head. He rubs his thumb against the back of her wrist. "But you're fine now, for a given definition of fine? You didn't break a finger back there that you're just expertly hiding?"

Oddly enough, Autor isn't bothered by how much he clucks anymore.

Edited 2014-01-07 21:25 (UTC)

"Nope. No napkins. Booming mechanical voice," she smiles faintly. "I didn't break anything. It's mostly just bruises, scratches and scrapes, and I can handle those, once I've gotten something to drink and have slept."

Autor wanders back to the drink table and offers to top off her wassail mug. "So are you hungry at all, or is sleep more appetizing?"

"If I sleep now, I'll wake up in the middle of the night and my sleep schedule will be absolutely ruined instead of just mildly screwed up," she says wryly, smiling into her newly-refilled cup of wassail.

"Well, then how about a second round of Pictionary?" he says. Then he adds, completely straight-faced, "That game was a passable way to spend a day."

Rae chuckles into her drink, amused, and leans to ask a passing waitrat to fetch them some pencils and paper.

"Very well then - we'll see if we can break our tie from last time."

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Winter Wonderland - 12th Night Party!

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