milliways_bar | (no subject)

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ellen park

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The Bar has a pretty good sound system, one installed years ago by Erwin "Whistler" Emory in payment for his various bills. Sometimes it's more noticeable than others.

And sometimes it's just sort of ignored, because Ellen doesn't deal well with things over her ears except for her helmet, and she really kinda needs to test out the various records recommended to her by Sam Wilson and Charles Xavier before she pays for them and takes them back to Philly.

So, uh... our apologies for all the Fifties and Motown music playing over whatever is on the speakers? She's not trying to be rude, honest.

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Sebastian is meandering around bar with all of the determined wellness of any stubborn person who's been long ill and is slowly beginning to improve, when there is noise from above.

He stills, staring into the rafters, not far from Ellen.

"... hello?" he ventures, voice braver than his body language.

"Whoops! Sorry," says Ellen, and hastily reaches for the volume knob on the turntable. "Didn't realize anyone else would notice."

That's... really going to help.

He blinks to her, then to the knob, then back to the rafters.

"You have hushed them," he observes, quietly, and then looks back to her. "Do you communicate with them by your machine?"

She has many scars, he notes, but this is -- if not a dream, or a fairy land, or some purgatory -- a pirate bar along the coast of Illyria. He is not surprised.

Ellen can't help but smile a little at that reaction. "Well, the machine controls them, whoever's using it," she says. "The speakers, I mean. The things the sounds are coming from up there. You haven't seen that kind of thing before, I take it?"

"I have not," he admits, curiosity piqued. "Is't fairy made, then, or some clever --" he considers, deeply, "machine trickery?"

He sounds okay with clever machine trickery. And not too bothered by fairy made things, either.

"The machine one," says Ellen. "I don't know any fairies- well, that's not true, I met one once, but that was a long time ago. These are just devices, no magic. My name's Ellen, by the way."

"I met a fairy not an hour past, Mistress Ellen," Sebastian says, "who did from air make food and promise me it lacked enchantment. I am Roderigo called."

Ellen nods. "It's very good to meet you, Roderigo," she says. "Welcome to Milliways. Can I ask where you've come from? We get all kinds of guests here."

"And you, as well!" Sebastian says. "I am neither a fairy nor an enchanter, if so you hoped. Merely I am the survivor of shipwreck, who on the coast of Illyria now recovers."

"Oh, wow," says Ellen. "That's pretty impressive, actually. The survivor part, I mean- I've been on a ship before, but after I got back from the trip you couldn't get me to take one again voluntarily. The trip was messy."

You try living underground for the first nineteen years of your life and see how well you adapt to being on a boat.

"The man who rescued me says I clung like a limpet to the mast, though I was most-dead," Sebastian says, wry. "Less skill than fate."

He sits in a chair at the table he's at, but rests his elbows on his knees. "Whence have you come to this place?"

"Still, that's something," Ellen says. "I had my armor on the whole time I was on the Duchess Gambit. I'd probably have gone straight to the bottom."

And even if she hadn't, the swim to shore would've been far too long to manage.

"I've been coming here for a while now, from... well, you wouldn't recognize any of the names, I don't think. Today I'm visiting from a city called Philadelphia, though."

"I am not so unlearned, to have not heard of Philadelphia!" Sebastian exclaims, carefully ignoring that he looks at maps far less often than he should. "Are lady warriors common, in the more distant corners of Asia? Or have you found such profession since come to Aegean lands?"

Edited (wtf grammar) 2015-09-02 04:45 (UTC)

"... I'm not sure," Ellen says after a moment's startled blinking. "I'm not here from the- from either of those. I got to this place by what I assume is magic; Philadelphia is on the other side of the ocean from-" Crud, where are the Aegean lands again? Mr. Brotch would kill her if she forgot- oh, yes. "-Greece."

"'Tis merely across the Aegean sea," Sebastian contradicts, the bar helpfully updating the names to current English for him. "Unless you speak of some other city that shares that name."

"What- oh! Oh, no, no, not the Philadelphia mentioned in the Book of Revelation," Ellen says. "This is a different city named after the one in Greece. No, this one was founded by people who admired the Greek city, more or less. It's not the same one at all."

Sebastian has not read the Book of Revelation.

Ellen has been bumped up to maybe-pirate warrior church-lady in his number of adjectives.

"I see," he says, after a period of thoughtful silence. "Then, good mistress, what ocean is it across?"

"The Atlantic," Ellen says. "I think I remember someone saying it's beyond what you'd call the Pillars of Hercules."

[ooc: I'm going to have to wait to talk to Lark to answer this! <3]

(Ooc: 's cool!)

Sebastian is far enough on that he's only heard of the Pillars of Hercules in passing, as a way of indicating beyond our normal realms.

He has no idea she means the Strait of Gibraltar.

"I see," he says, and asks no further. Fairy realms seem to be a sensitive topic, to the patrons here -- though she has said she's seen fairies not!

Perhaps she means in this place. She might be human, herself, and exiled to some conclave in far Philadelphia amongst her human kin.

Ellen smiles a little ~~belatedly because her mun is a complete yoyo sometimes and is so sorry, truly she is~~ and says, "It probably doesn't matter. They call it Philly more than Philadelphia these days anyway, and I'm only there because the head of my order sent me on a mission to the place, anyway. It's not a permanent posting."

"Yes," Sebastian says, sort of dreamy. He lets himself sit, finally, in deference to the lightness of his head. "Of course my lady is a priestly knight. Nay, she is a Templar entire. Are you not?"

"Your- oh-" Ellen smiles sheepishly. "I'm part of the Brotherhood of Steel, not the Order of the Temple. I am one of their priests, though, and they're a pretty religious order, so that probably counts for something."

Minister or reverend or chaplain would probably be a more accurate way to refer to her position, but she figures that for some people 'priest' is the only variation on that theme to make sense, so...

"Are a priest!" Sebastian exclaims, though he seems less surprised and more pleased to have been proven correct in his early assumptions.

What sane-seeming, non-priestly person knows their way around the book of Revelation?

(Living. He'd not put it past his sister.)

"Besides," he murmurs, half to himself, "it is prudence embodied, to know both how to kill a man and perform his rites."

Ellen inclines her head. "I do my best to make sure anybody I have to shoot is at least laid straight and prayed over, even if I can't take the time to bury them or burn the corpse to ashes," she allows. "It's only fair. And who knows, someday I'll probably die in the wilderness and have to rely on the kindness of strangers for the same courtesy."

Sebastian makes a reflexive sign to ward off such fate for her. He is genuinely both impressed and contemplative. He is not a priest, and yet he has considered himself to this point someone prepared to kill when necessary even in the absence of priests.

"You have given me many things to consider," he hesitates, and considers her. "I must be to my bed, else I end sicker than I began, but I wish you godspeed on your travels, Mistress Ellen."

He pushes himself up with some trepidation from the table, and puts a hand to his heart. It's safer than attempting a bow.

Edited 2015-10-11 08:45 (UTC)

Ellen nods. "All right," she says. "Sleep well and feel better soon."

He hesitates, part-way to the stairs, and turns.

"-- Good mistress," he says, and falls quiet. "If you would -- my sister," he breathes, sharp. After a long moment of gnawing the inside of his lip, he continues, quick: "She is drowned. I would count your prayers a kindness, beyond all others."

Oh.

Ellen dips her head in acknowledgment. "Of course," she says. "I'll be more than happy to keep her in my prayers."

He nods in return, unable to speak -- then stills, the motion seeming to have confused his balance.

He's soon recovered, and gone up the stairs, one hand against the wall for support.

[ooc: thank you so much <3]

[OOC: any time!]

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