(no subject)

[i_am_your_host]

Something happens when the Master of Ceremonies is not looking. He could be busy elsewhere, upstairs perhaps, sleeping maybe, or enjoying someone's company in their room. But most definitely, when he is not around and not aware, someone enters the bar.

He's a slight youth of no more than seventeen or eighteen -- though his elfin face might indicate even younger -- with big, brown doe eyes and thick, curling lashes; jet black hair that flops over his forehead; soft, pouty lips that look as if they ought to be on a woman instead. He's dressed almost conservatively in a button-down shirt and sweater vest, perhaps to look older, like a university student or a serious artist.

From one bar into another, he crosses the threshold.

And he stares in bewilderment at what should have been the back alley. Instead it's the end of the universe -- but he doesn't know this yet.

Someone tell him where he is?


[OOC: Just a little fun for one night, and then he's gone.]

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

A pretty blonde by the fire plays a sad and lilting tune on a flute, eyes closed but expression utterly lost in the passion of the song.

He lets the dying last note float into silence and sighs, tucking the flute inside the breast of a silk robe as he crossed to the bar. He spot the new comer and greets him with a little smile. "Good evening."

[i_am_your_host]

The boy's eyes widen at the sight of the blond. He tilts his head, bird-like, as he listens to the music. Music unlike he has ever heard before, not from all the musicians he has known or seen onstage.

So he's a little startled when he's spoken to.

"Hallo," he replies in a soft voice, and with a small but uncertain smile.

"Um. Could you perhaps-- tell me where I am? Because I don't think I'm supposed to be here..."

He's speaking German, but the bar's translation field is working just fine.

[thewidewideworld]

"Never fear, you're most welcome here." Sinric smiles, welcoming the young man to sit with him. "All are. Will you join me for some tea? It will perhaps help."

[i_am_your_host]

The boy utters a short chuckle that's as uncertain as his smile as he approaches.

"That's kind of you, thank you, but-- I'm sure there was an alley on the other side of that door, and not another pub."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric asks the bar for tea in soft and lyrical Greek, unsurprised when an elegant tea tray appears.

He pours the youth a glass of honey coloured apple tea, spicing it will a splash of mead from a little silver jug. He holds it out to the boy with a little bow, every movement graceful.

"You are in a place called Miliways. It is a tavern, but one of magic and wonder that sits outside the worlds, outside time." He laughs softly. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at explaining this. But know you're safe and welcomed here. As long as you do no harm to other, nor with any do harm to you."

[souffle_girlek]

Oswin does not look like a serious artist. Most days she doesn't look much like a serious hacker either, which she can be, or a serious disaster in the kitchen, which she definitely is except for those few days that everything comes out right.

"I swear I will sic the bloody mice on you don't pretend I won't, I'm some sort of mouse prophet last time I heard so give me the bowl and there won't need to be any rodent wars!" Oswin shouts as she tries to chase down a pair of waitrats who are making off with her latest failed attempt at souffle batter.

"... Of course with my luck they'll be in a mood for a religion change." She adds on with a sort of defeated air as the rats disappear into the crowd, leaving her batter-less and without a mouse army.

"Hullo. You're cute." What? She can multi-task.

[i_am_your_host]

Oh. She's speaking English.

And she's not making very much sense to him.

Wait, there are rats here and she's chasing the rats and yelling at them and--

what is this place.

The boy looks at her, blinking and startled, when she addresses him.

"Thank you?" he says in English with a heavy German accent. "You are not so bad yourself."

He's dreaming. He must be dreaming.

[souffle_girlek]

Hey, dreaming isn't such a bad way to cope, Oswin's discovered.

The German accent is heartwrenching, and if for a moment Oswin looks disappointed (right accent, wrong boy) she shutters that particular expression quickly.

"I swear I was joking about the whole rodent war thing. No war on the wait rats, that's been explained."

[i_am_your_host]

All right, now he's even more confused.

"Rodent war-?" he repeats with a little shake of his head. "I apologize. My English is not so perfect, but I must ask you..."

He doesn't know how to put this in a non-crazy-sounding way.

"...Where am I?"

[onceaviking]

Time is a construct, age is relative.

Whatever.

Scents don't lie.

The teenager is being watched intently by someone tall, pale, blond, and brooding, in tight black jeans, a thin, black top showing off broad shoulders and massive biceps, and black boots.

[i_am_your_host]

It would be difficult for the boy to not notice him watching. And at once he is frightened and aroused -- a strange but sensual combination. The man looks like many of the large, tough, handsome German men who cruise the bars looking for pretty boys.

He's exactly the type to play up to. And the youth would do so, except-- well. The whole interdimensional door thing has thrown him off. But perhaps the man can help?

"Pardon me," he says in German as he approaches warily, looking like the most lost of lost boys, "but can you please tell me what just happened? I was supposed to be exiting a bar, but now I find myself in another completely different one..."

[onceaviking]

"You should probably sit down," Eric tells him.
"The truth is fantastical and insane. And best heard whilst sitting down."

It has to be him.

The blood, the skin. Yes. It is him.

And so - youthful.

[i_am_your_host]

He gasps softly, blushing.

"Oh, I do apologize," he then says in rough English. "You are American?"

He slips onto the nearest barstool, perching on its edge with his feet on the rungs.

"Is the truth so upsetting that I would faint?"

[athelstanthescribe]

[ooc: too late for a new tag?]

[i_am_your_host]

[ooc: Not too late! But will be going to bed in a bit, so I'll catch your tag later today?]

[athelstanthescribe]

[ooc: sounds good!]

Athelstan glances up as the entering footsteps falter, and smiles gently at the boy.

"It's all right. You just aren't where you expected to be."

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks wide-eyed at the man, more than a little startled.

"I would say that's an understatement," he says in German, though his accent ought to come through as sounding familiar.

"I expected to be in the alley behind a pub, not-- in an entirely different pub."

[heatherandsteel]

(OOC: If you're up for another, if not then I'll delete.)

Quentin enters after him, dressed in a pressed button down shirt and neat pants with no disguise, he's been at Shadowed Hills.

When he almost knocks into him, he smiles, this boy's cute and looks nervous, "Sorry, are you okay?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, Entschuldigung!" the boy says as he reactively gets out of the way.

There is just so much he doesn't understand right now, so it's kind of a sensory overload when he turns to see this hot boy addressing him.

He gropes for his English.

"Padon me, I mean. I-- yes, I am okay. I am just-- lost? I do not know how I came here."

[heatherandsteel]

"Milliways is like that and you're fine. Parlez-vous Francais?"

His French accent is from Canada but if this boy knows German, he might know French. The tips of his ears go a little red at how the other boy is looking at him.

[i_am_your_host]

He is just really distractingly handsome.

"Oh, oui!" he says, nodding with relief. Continuing in near-flawless French, he asks, "What is Milliways? And how did I end up here? I was supposed to meet someone in the alley behind the bar, but-- somehow I am here instead!"

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil is headed to the door to go back to Storlock... Oh that look, he remembers that look.

"You lost?" he asks.

Wil has his knit cap on over his ears today. But his clothes have the look of the 21st century mixed with some kind of post apocalyptic flair.

[i_am_your_host]

It takes a moment for the boy to realize that the young man (wearing a style of clothing he has never seen before in his life) is addressing him.

"Yes-- I think," he says haltingly in English with a heavy German accent.

"I am supposed to be somewhere else, but I went through the door and-- I am here instead? Do you know how that happened?"

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"The Bar kidnapped you," said Wil, "I'm Wil."

[i_am_your_host]

The boy can't help taking a step backwards toward the door, looking at him like he's crazy.

"Excuse me?"