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

[margolotta]

"They go," Margolotta says, "a little crazy, as a rule, but they can manage it. It works best if they have something else to fixate on. Something creative, productive. They'll still be a little crazy, but it will be a useful kind of craziness."

[jonathanparagon]

"Nothing wrong with being a little crazy", he says with a crooked smile, "if you can channel it. Pretty sure all but a few people think I'm more than a little when I have a vision fit."

[margolotta]

"Vision fit?" Margolotta asks. "What is that like, and what kind of visions do you get?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Painful and cryptic but usually pretty useful. My world's Powers that Be send them - images, words - so my group can get to where they're needed and when."

[margolotta]

How very odd.

"What kinds of powers are they?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Gods? Angels?" He shrugs. "I've never met them, I'm not sure anybody has. The last set got killed, but something's directing my visions now."

[margolotta]

"Something killed all the gods?" Margolotta asks, head askance. "What a very odd world you must live in!"

Says somebody from the Discworld!

[jonathanparagon]

"Not all. I don't know about the named gods, maybe they're real, maybe they're not... the Powers that Be don't have names that anyone knows."

[margolotta]

"They're considered entities?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Yes. Or maybe a collective entity. The last ones wore masks and only spoke through an intermediary."

[margolotta]

"That is very, very odd," Margolotta says. "How many people believe in them?"

[jonathanparagon]

"Probably not many. Definitely not as many as believe in any god of any religion from my world."

[margolotta]

"Then where do they get their power from in the first place?"

[jonathanparagon]

"...I don't know, I'm just your common or garden magic user. I've never met them."

[margolotta]

"Gods need people's beliefs to get their power," Lady Margolotta says. "If nobody believes in them any more, they fade away and become Small Gods."

[jonathanparagon]

"Ah, now I get why you're asking... that isn't how it works in my world, as far as I know. Or not completely."

[margolotta]

"But their power has to come from somewhere?" Margolotta says.

[jonathanparagon]

"You're talking about beings that can create and destroy worlds", he points out. "They had plenty of power."

[margolotta]

"I don't think out gods can do that sort of thing," Margolotta says. "We get auditors, from all I'm told, but even they can be foiled."

[jonathanparagon]

"What are auditors?"

He leaves aside the notion of what the Disc's gods do, if not that.

[margolotta]

"Now, I have only heard tell of them, or read about them," Margolotta says, "but apparently, they're these entities from somewhere in the universe who make sure the natural laws are kept. Natural laws, though, are a bit different where I'm from."

[jonathanparagon]

"Do they at least stay the same most of the time in their own way?"

[margolotta]

"Gray, all the same, unchanging and completely certain that theirs is the only way," Margolotta says.

[jonathanparagon]

"...I meant the laws of nature, but that's a useful answer too. They sound like everything alive would hate them."

[margolotta]

"There is the theory they might be of the opinion that life was a bad move in the first place, an infestation of the universe," Margolotta says. "At least some philosophers claim that."