milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

autor,
duster

(no subject)

Duster comes down to the main room, carrying his bass with him. Earlier this evening, he opened a gift box lying on the floor, only to find it didn't contain anything useful in it. But he was well now, and he wouldn't let that event stop him from performing. It's a regular comfort to him.

Tonight, as he's in a relatively good mood, he'll let listeners walk up to him and chat for a while.

((OOC: Coming into physical contact with Duster during this plot will have your pup contract the pox. He's currently not showing any symptoms, but the next day, both will be showing the listed symptoms.))

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Autor pulls up a chair, holding a cup of tea, to sit and listen to the play. He watches Duster's fingers, always fascinated with their movements across the instrument.

Duster continues his piece, taking a break from the standard music and adding his own improvised measures. He doesn't notice Autor, as he is too focused on the music to pay attention to the audience, until he finishes.

He stays where he sits while a few listeners applaud.

And Autor is one of those applauding listeners. "Well played, Duster," he says quietly, crossing to the man. "I like your added flourishes."

Duster keeps holding onto his bass as Autor walks up to him. "Thanks. I've been practicing a lot with this piece, so I'm glad you liked it."

"I do," he says, inclining his head. "How have you been lately?"

"Good, I guess." He shrugs. "I met some new people the past few days, so that was nice. There was an old man that gives gifts to people during a holiday called Christmas and a walking skeleton."

He pauses. "I don't know how he could talk, but he acted like a normal human being."

"Ah, yes, Father Christmas! I didn't know he'd be around this early. Christmas usually happens at the end of December, and that's a month away," Autor explains, nodding. "Did you ask for anything? Oh, and a walking skeleton? Really?"

"Father Christmas? That's what he's called?" It obviously didn't make much sense to Duster. "He did mention about that holiday happening soon, but the end of December's kind of far away." It didn't take that long to prepare for a festival, right?

"I couldn't believe it at first, and he scared me when I first saw him. But he recites poetry and can travel to other worlds on his own, I think."

"That's what he's called. And Christmas is... well, it's a Christian holiday which involves giving presents to children all over the world in a single night," he explains.

"Wait, he recites poetry? Interesting. Did it tend towards the macabre and creepy?"

He'd ask where Christians live, but he assumes it's from a part of the world that was destroyed before he came to the Nowhere Islands.

"He did mention how his group had to use psychic abilities to give everyone presents. But why do the do that?" It's a question that bugged him ever since he talked to Chris.

"Yeah, Jack--that's the skeleton's name--said that his job was to scare people. Though I don't know why someone would like to have everyone else be afraid of him or hate him."

"Why give presents? I'm not sure," Autor says, tilting his head. "I think it's just one of those things Santa--that's another name for him--does."

He blinks at Duster's description of Jack's job. "Wait, scaring people? What? What a strange occupation. Did he tell you how he came to such a job?"

"I'm sure that lots of families gives each other things during celebrations, but I never heard of an outside group being in charge of that." Something about that made him a bit uncomfortable.

"No, I didn't ask." Maybe he should have. "I guess he's good at it, since he's a skeleton, but I don't know how that'll work as a job."

"Yes, it is a little odd," Autor admits, a little uncomfortable with the idea himself. "I have to wonder what he gets out of it."

He sips his tea. "That sounds so strange. I wonder if he'll visit the bar again."

He leans on his bass and sighs. "I think he will. He seems to really like this place."

"What about you?" Autor asks, tilting his head. "What do you think of it?"

Duster smiles a little and lets out a small laugh. "I guess I like this place," he answers. "There's a lot of interesting people here, and I haven't been able to relax so much is a long time."

He smiles, thinking about how less busy he's been. Sure, he loved playing in the DCMC, but all those tours took a lot time and planning and late nights. Here, he can play whenever he wants. And there's no threat of world destruction.

He breaks out of his thoughts. "What about you. What do you think?"

Autor eases into a small smile of his own at Duster's. "There are, indeed," he says quietly. He considers Duster's question, sipping his tea. "Milliways is a second home. The people I've met here have changed my life in more ways than one. I even love some of them."

He'd die for some of them.

"You're right. The whole places feels like its own village." It's another family to him.

"And I'm glad we have the band," Autor says, sipping his tea. "I'll be putting up a notice soon so hopefully we can find a drummer. I'm sorry I didn't before."

"No, that's fine." He would never blame a friend of his. "It'll be nice once we have a bigger band and have official performances."

He might want to blame him. Autor has a lot to be blamed for.

"It will! I like what we have, but it'll be nice to have bigger and better things," Autor says. "We still need to make songs."

According to Duster, there was no reason to blame Autor for anything now.

"That's also a good point. We all need to meet up some time and come up with our own material."

"Good idea. I don't know how we're going to come up with songs; I'll do some reading on the topic," Autor says, sipping his tea. "Meanwhile, are you hungry?"

"A little, yeah," he says. In actually, he hasn't eaten in hours and can't wait to replenish the energy taken from practicing and performing.

He slides off his stool to gently set the bass against the wall before heading towards the bar.

Autor follows and orders a refill on his cup of tea and some Obatzda--a Bavarian cheese delicacy--and some crackers. "Do you perform out here most nights?"