milliways_bar | (no subject)

A scientific experiment of the highest order is in progress. One which includes raspberry fudge, brie and crackers, and several different wines. Autor plans to get tipsy today, and he'll do it in style.

He'll also do it with help. Autor endures light ribbing by Sunshine, who has promised to stay with him and make sure he doesn't do anything foolish while even slightly inebriated--a serious concern of his, especially with a sprained ankle. She's keeping to tea today, just in case.

Autor raises a glass, his cheeks already tingling. He swirls the wine, as he has seen done before. Then he holds it up to his nose and takes a deep breath. "Ah, yes. This clean, buttery wine has a heady bouquet with oak notes, and a spicy aroma of vanilla and currant," he says, and takes a sip. "Sadly, it is broad--it has a full body aroma, but lacks any finesse to its taste."

Rae grins, sipping her tea. "Try harder not to sound like you memorized the book, Autor."

[OOC: Two pups, two muns! All threads will come after Rae and Autor's, when the boy is already tipsy.]

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Autor blinks at her. "Oh, hey, that's a secret. I know it but you're not supposed to," he says, shaking his dizzy head. "So, I read about the war here, and I'm pretty sure once time restarts for my town I'll be drafted. It's the big one, the Great War, between allll the countries--and I'm on the losing side. Two million dead in four years from Germany alone. That's where I'm from, you see."

Rae feels cold, feeling this unknown event looming up before them.

"You can't be drafted - you're hardly soldier material, Autor," she says, blinking at him, helplessly.

"Sure I can," Autor says, relentlessly cheerful. "I'm seventeen, and a guy. That's all they need."

He raises a hand. "Look, I'm shaking. Is that supposed to happen when you're tipsy?"

"It can," she says quietly, as she tries to fathom the thought of Autor going off to war. Her hands find his, enveloping them in warmth. She only vaguely remembers the faces of the soldiers who had come to her school, who had then gone off to fight the Wars to keep them all safe, but she most definitely remembers the years following.

"....What will you do, do you think?" He can't go to war.

"I don't know," Autor admits, clinging to her hands and lacing his fingers between hers. "I could be a conscientious objecter, but then I'd have to go through a tribunal, and I really don't think they'll waste the time on me that way."

He lowers his head, furrowing his brow. Thinking is difficult; even moreso about a topic he'd rather shy away from. "I... I don't know. I guess I'm goin' to war to play soldier."

Rae squeezes his hands.

"...How long until the war starts, do you know?"

"Nope," Autor says, struggling to return to cheerfulness. But melancholy grips him now. "I don't know what year I'm in, so I can't guess. But the war's in 1914, and I'm somewhere between 1905 and then, so I don't know if I have a lot of time or if I'm right on the eve of it."

"How do you... is time moving for you yet?" Rae asks, desperate, reaching forward to lightly touch his cheek. "Are there... calenders? What season is it?"

Autor turns his head to kiss her fingers. "Time is moving, but it's only moving according to the plot of the Story. So events are happening, and things are changing, but we're not connected to the real world yet," he says, and then smiles. "I've got time. The Story hasn't finished. So I've got time."

Rae knows how prickly Autor can be, sometimes, and sudden hugs have proven to be awkward in the past.

This does not stop her.

Autor squeezes her tight, pleased to have a hug. He buries his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of cinnamon and chocolate and dough. The boy strokes the back of her head, and hums. "It's okay."