Ye Olde Everybody EP on a Sunday

[ostro_goth]

The door opens, and Ragnar Lothbrok wanders in from a place that looks like a camp-site in hilly country, with cooking fires, and people laugh. Not all of these voices are male. Ragnar looks a bit astonished -- he closes the door with an odd gesture, as if letting go of a branch. Then, he quickly walks to the back of the room and vanishes into a door there; after a few minutes, he comes out again and walks towards the bar to order a horn cup of good spring water. What, did you think Vikings live on mead alone?

Dorian Gray comes wandering in from his house; as the door closes, there's a brief glance of a huge room with marble floors, the walls covered in portraits from all eras of art history, even some that ought not to exist yet. He's reading as he walks, his nose deep in 'The Count of Monte Cristo', chuckling as he walks. He only notices that he's in Milliways when he almost hits a pillar; then, he smiles, slouches on a sofa by the fireplace and orders coffee. He keeps reading.

Father Pearse Harman comes downstairs after the Sunday service, in order to eat a proper Sunday dinner (despite this being Lent -- Sundays are traditionally non-fast-days) of a very British kind -- it features a roast leg of chicken, Yorkshire pudding, two kinds of vegetables, and gravy. There will even be pudding afterwards, 'pudding' being a generic word for 'dessert', and this particular pudding being apple crumble with custard. For once, the priest seems to actually have an appetite.

Madame Thénardier has actually been to mass as well, simply to try and look like a good solid bourgeoise who does what she's supposed to; she is actually wearing a lace scarf in her usual generous cleavage. But now, having made the effort, she gets a basket of chicken wings from the bar, orders a new book that seems to delight her, and retires to her usual nook behind the fireplace to read and eat. She occasionally wipes her hand on her apron, but the new book nevertheless soon acquires greasy smudges.

Katrina Crane comes in from the back, bringing with her two baskets full of assorted seed packages that are all open, and possibly mislabelled, as well as her copy of Culpeper's and one or two other herbal books. She sits at a table, orders tea, and then proceeds to identify, consolidate, re-label and generally sort all the seeds for the herb garden.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter enters from the kitchen, carrying what looks like a breakfast tray -- coffee and fresh juice, mushroom and eggs on toast, an elegant salad with fruit, and a plate of crisply fried black pudding garnished with radishes. It may be a bit late for breakfast, but Dr. Lecter is known for the unorthodoxy of his meals, after all; so he wears the face of a man who expects no comments.

Teja enters from the back door as well, carrying a laughing toddler and followed by four cats who very casually slink in before the door happens to close. They secure a table near the stairs, and some waitrats bring over a high chair, which the toddler (almost two years old now) is put into. A plate of fruit for the child soon follows, and tuna for the cats. Two places are set at the table, Teja is served a clay cup of well-watered red wine, and then, he leans back, content like a man who has done his work.

Lady Margolotta enters from a drawing room the sombre and elegant lines of which are disturbed by posters, scattered papers, floofy poufs, empty mugs of cocoa, and an iconograph on a tripod. Apparently, some meeting of the Überwald League of Temperance just ended. Margolotta is carrying a tattered pamphlet that, however, says TRAIN SCHEDULE on the first page. She notices immediately that there is light coming from the windows, and finds herself a table in the darkest corner of the bar, as far away from the windows as possible.


[[OOC: Everybody is here for your tagging pleasure! Say in your comment whom you want for your charrie, or they might get just anybody...]]

Comments

Whichever works best: Ragnar or Dorian!

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede is settled on a chair this afternoon comfortably, a pair of two hollow long bones in his lap; he's plainly carving at them, though not boring straight through for simple designs. Periodically he'll hold the two together to see how his design is coming along, and whether he'll be able to fit the dark stained wood and paua shell inlays in place. The shell's blue and greenish stripes, meandering like ocean tidewaves, stand out beautifully from the bleached bone.

When he's done, he may well play you a tune.

[capture_eternity]

"Ganymede!" Dorian says when he finally looks up from his book. "That is going to be a diaulos, right? How amazing!"

[the_cupbearer]

"Hello Dorian," Ganymede chuckles, setting the bone down. He's dressed casually still, henna dyed into his skin below where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, lending him a faintly wild air.

"It will be something like one, anyway," he says. "When I'm done with it."

[capture_eternity]

"I'd love to hear some actual ancient Greek music!" Dorian says. "Can I get you any wine or absinthe or some Irish coffee while you work?"

[the_cupbearer]

"I was never actually Greek, you know," he chuckles, laying it down. "I'm Trojan, and I imagine most true Greeks would rather take offense at the confusion."

[capture_eternity]

"From archaic times, in any case," Dorian says. "Greeks is probably a rather loose term at that time, in any case."

[the_cupbearer]

"Considering most of the time you mean anywhere ear the Mediterranean, yes," he says. "But still. I was rather on another landmass."

Ganymede sits back, folding his knife closed. "Would you take it well if I called you French, simply because it's close enough?"

[capture_eternity]

"I wouldn't be as offended as some people," Dorian says. "But I do get your point."

[the_cupbearer]

"Good," he says, reaching out and poking Dorian with the edge of a bare foot. "Wine might be appreciated."

[capture_eternity]

Dorian laughs, gets up, walks over to the bar and soon returns with two glasses of wine which he puts on the side table before slouching back down.

"Here, wine."

[the_cupbearer]

"So you want me to play you some ancient song, hm?" he asks. "Something you've never heard before?"

[capture_eternity]

"Yes," Dorian says. "When you're done. I'm quite content to watch you."

[the_cupbearer]

"It could take quite a while," he says. "I have to carve out enough space to inlay the shell and wood."

[capture_eternity]

"You can't play on an unfinished flute," Dorian says. "I'll wait."

[the_cupbearer]

"You can if the embouchure and fingerholes are done, and on these they are," he laughs.

[capture_eternity]

"Well, if you don't mind..." Dorian says.

[the_cupbearer]

"If I minded would I have offered?" he asks, smiling as he brings the flute up to his lips and begins to play.

[capture_eternity]

Dorian sips his wine and listens, transfixed.

[the_cupbearer]

The song is slow, but moving; it's calm and happy enough as he plays, though he can hardly sing along with it.

[capture_eternity]

Dorian sips his own wine, and just listens while Ganymede is playing.

[the_cupbearer]

When he stops, Ganymede takes the flute from his lips and sits back with a little laugh. "You don't think that sounded Greek, do you?"

[capture_eternity]

"It generally sounded archaic," Dorian says, smiling. "I can't properly say where it's from. I wasn't around that early in music history to tell with any certainty."

[the_cupbearer]

"It's Danish, actually," he says. "Very old Danish, but still."

[capture_eternity]

"Old Danish?" Dorian says. "That would be Viking music?"

[the_cupbearer]

"It's a bit far south to be really Viking music," he says. "You're close, though."