milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Rand had been out reveling with his sisters and a party of human actors, so he is wearing a glamour this evening when he steps from the shadows; tabby-stripped hair shaded to look merely brown and malachite eyes to hazel.

Seeing the bar at the end of the universe rather than the tavern he had meant to arrive in, he smiles and approaches the bar. "Brandy, if you would be so forthcoming?"

Glass in hand, he turns to survey the room; there is still much he doesn't know of this place. He ignores the pamphlet that came with his drink. He is not much for reading.

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Not long afterwards, a fifteen or sixteen year old boy enters Milliways and cuts much the same path to Bar. A squire, he's dressed formally in scarlet and gold, boots polished, jeweled sword hilt sparkling.

He appears to be having an argument with the black cat draped over his shoulders. This would be unremarkable -- everyone talks to their cats, right? -- except for two things: their eyes are the same bright purple and the cat, well...

Rand might be able to sense there is more to Faithful* than one might think.

"You can't go with me. Not tonight. You'd freeze your tail off, and then how would you balance?" Alanna mutters as she takes a seat.

*[OOC: It's entirely possible Faithful is a minor god.]

Rand notes the presence of Faithful and turns to offer a polite nod of respect. The cat is odd for him, seemingly not quite fae, but having the potency of a Firstborn...perhaps. The human with the cat is another matter.

"A valid point," he offers as he attempts to sort the scents*. "However, a cat without a tail is not an unheard of thing and many do quite well with the lose besides."

[OOC: From what little I've read of Alanna's canon, she has a spell or blessing that makes her seem male yes? So her scent will read as male? Sorry if I'm using bad pronouns.]

Well said, Faithful meows at Alanna, but all the same I think I'll keep mine. You may leave me this evening, but watch the Duke closely. Now, meet this one. He seems remarkably less stupid than most people.

Alanna, seemingly ignoring Rand while Faithful rambles in her ear, eventually lets out a sigh and turns his way.

"Oh, I agree. But he likes to hang on to the saddle with it so he can nap."

Also a valid point, Faithful adds, blinking at Rand, intending him to hear this time, too.

[OOC: I play it as the protection of the Goddess works kind of like a don't-look-here equivalent, or a don't-ask-questions, anyway. That said, it starts to fade in Milliways without the Goddess's presence, so feel free to have him sense something off with her, and eventually figure it out. :D ]

"Ah. Well it would not do to lose the tail if you can avoid it then," Rand replies with another nod for them both. Understanding the cat is nothing new for him, though it was odd that he couldn't understand their first exchange. "I am Rand and I am enjoying an evenings entertainment. May I share a meal with you both? I know myself well enough to know I always order too much food on these occasions."

Faithful jumps off Alanna's shoulders and sits on Bar between them, tail twitching with his interest in this exchange. Alanna doesn't quite know what to do with the gracious and rather courtly offer, which leads to a blush, which leads to a scowl.

It fades quickly, however, and she nods.

"I'm Alan of Trebond, from Tortall. I'm glad to meet you, Rand." A small smile. "And it is easy to order too much when every food imaginable is available for you to sample."

"That is very true," Rand agrees and orders a very Renaissance-themed spread of food. "I am not familiar with your lands, so I can only assume we are from different worlds, as I am told happens here. Myself, I am of London, from England."

It'd be more accurate to state his father's court and the country of Londinium, but he making a pass at appearing human.

Renaissance-themed means recognizable, for Alanna. She smiles wider and stabs a roughly cut piece of bread with her dagger.

"I've heard of it," she tells him, breaking off a chunk to shove in her mouth. "You sound more familiar than other Londoners I've met, I'll admit."

And he obviously knows how to eat.

"I'm training to be a knight."

"Do I have the honor of making the acquaintance of a future hero?" He asks, his tone playful but not directly mocking. He's still young enough he hasn't met any heroes and so isn't quite jaded. "Myself, I am a Prince."

Maybe this whole being human and blending in is harder than it seems.

Alanna isn't very good at blending in, either. Much to her chagrin.

She smirks. "You have the pleasure of meeting a squire to a different Prince. I haven't yet lost my temper and smacked the back of his royal head, so some might say I've already achieved heroism."

"I have heard it said, on good authority, my sisters to be exact, that maintaing your temper is the true test of serving one who is royal. Of course, in their case, it is association and not serving. I would not presume to think I could ask them to serve me."

As he speaks, he tears a wing from a pigeon and offers it to Faithful, while asking, "Would you prefer I remove the meat from the bone?"

"Your sisters sound very wise. Unfortunately Prince Jonathan lacks siblings, wise or not, and thus it is left to me to keep his high opinions in check."

As she says it, her expression softens into unmistakable fondness.

"It works well for us," she adds, tilting her head and watching Faithful.

That would suit me best, Your Highness. Clearly you are good People. We were fortunate to find you here this evening.

The scowl reappears on Alanna's face. For once, she heard nothing but meowing.

Rand, though he acts the fool for his father's benefit, can actually be aware at times and so notices the scowl. Eyes darting between Alan and Faithful, he wonders if the cat is forthcoming with his nature to the young knight. A bit of caution might be in order, just in case.

"And may I have the honor of knowing how I may call you?" He asks first looking to Faithful to give the impression the question if for him but then looking to Alan to give the impression the inquiry is for him. He is also pulling the pigeon meat from the bone of course, leaving large pieces for the cat is not a kitten. Bar obliges by providing two plates, one for the meat and one for the bones. "And I do beg you call me Rand. In my court, only the king uses honorifics."

"Rand."

Alanna smiles, though her eyes reserve judgement for the moment.

"This is Faithful," she says, extending her hand to indicate the pleased-as-punch cat. "And so he is. He was gifted to me by... a very special lady."

Please. It is difficult to preen and dine simultaneously.

"You'll manage," Alanna tells her cat after letting loose a snort. Her eyes cut to Rand and she clears her throat. "Yes. Faithful," her tone goes very dry, "but Jon wanted to name him Pounce."

Rand laughs at Faithful's comment but quickly covers it with a clearing of his throat.

"Your pardon, but one might think you understand your companion here?" He gestures from Alan to Faithful to make sure his point is clear. "Is this so?"

Edited 2014-10-23 19:41 (UTC)

Internally, Alanna runs through a list of swear words that would make George proud; her smile, however, merely shifts into a partial smirk.

"You don't seem alarmed at the possibility."

Goddess bless Milliways and all its strangeness.

"Sometimes he lets others play along, but usually it's just me." Her head tilts, a practiced ever-so-slightly mad look in her eyes. "Although insanity does run in my family, so perhaps everyone else is just humoring me."

It would make life easier if they did, Faithful puts in. You wouldn't lose your temper so often.

He blinks at Rand and pulls a piece of meat closer with his paw.

"You are touched by the moon you say," Rand asks, leaning forward to rest his chin in one hand. "How intriguing. In what manner does it manifest?"

He might be seeing a chance for a little fun.

He also cuts some cheese for Faithful and places it on the plate with the meat. "It must be truly challenging to work with him." He says to Faithful with complete sincerity. "I hope he feeds you at least?"

This time, her eyes dance with true amusement.

"Other than talking to my pets?" Alanna snickers. "Well, I seem to enjoy chasing danger around, I hate dancing, I'm always cold, and I have absolutely no problem with my coffee whatsoever. To hear my friends tell it, these are all signs I should be considered mad beyond any hope of rehabilitation."

Faithful delicately bites a piece of meat and then not so delicately shakes his head like he's murdering it himself.

Not as well as this. Luckily, the palace cooks are fond of me.

Alanna rolls her eyes.

He waves his hands dismissively.

"Those are errors in character not insanity."

"If you say so."

Her lips twitch.

"What about you, Rand? We've determined that I like whacking at things with sticks and Faithful enjoys lazing about the palace kitchens. How do you pass the time?"

Minx has the same sort of glamorous, well dressed look as the actors he just left most likely had. She leans over the bar, stretching her long legs. "Whiskey please, bar. Something strong." It's been a long night and she needs something stronger than champagne.

She glances over to him and smiles. "Hi."

Rand turns with a smile and an arched eyebrow.

"Good evening," he replies with a bow and an appreciative glint in his eye. "Is the whiskey palatable here?"

She smiles and takes a long sip. "It's a hell of a lot better than the cheap bubbles they were passing around at the party I just left. I never understood why big fashion houses always cheap out on the drinks."

"'Cheap bubbles'," he asks and surreptitiously takes another test of her scent. He remembers her from when he first came here and she did not seem Fae then either, but by the first fur, he can't think of any others who would drink bubbles. "I am not familiar with this refreshment."

"Bad champagne." She explains. "The good stuff is lovely but the cheap stuff just leads to headaches and hangovers." Very human.

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