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[the_greywaren]

[OOC : New here! I am playing Ronan from the end of The Raven King.]

Ronan Lynch, devil of a boy, dreamer of dreams and notorious insomniac, doesn't find it strange to find himself in a place like this. His dreams become reality. Thoughts brought to life. For all he knows this could just be another dream. Some hidden place on a ley line he's never been. Unless this place starts attacking him and trying to tear him apart piece by piece, he won't stress about it.

He looks around deciding on the perfect place to settle in. A booth. No one can come up behind him and he can look out and see everyone else.

Comments

[heatherandsteel]

(OOC: Yay for Ronan! If you have any questions, I'm glad to help as I've been here a while.)

Quentin is combing his fingers through his copper hair, his pointed ears sticking up through it as he looks for a place to sit.

When his gaze goes over Ronan, he briefly stops and stands straighter as he tastes the air for magic. Ronan is clearly someone who's intense and attractive and Quentin pauses and says, "Looking for someone?"

[the_greywaren]

[OOC; Good to know! Thank you!]

Looking up from a pile of salty fries he shrugs his shoulders as he stares at Quentin. Ronan didn't know why he was here. His eyes shift and he sighs. "Looking for a beer. Can I start a tab or something?"

When in doubt reduce everyone to being wait staff, otherwise he might come off as being potentially friendly. He can't have that.

[heatherandsteel]

He raises an eyebrow before nodding. Maybe he has some weird luck to find newish patrons wanting beers,

"Yes, you can order from the rats or up with Bar. The first drink is free and not enchanted other than how Milliways is magical."

[the_greywaren]

His brows pinch together creating a wrinkle between his eyes. Rats? Enchanted? He had to be dreaming. This kid kinda looks like someone he might dream up.

"Did I hit my head and wake up in a fairy-tale?" Those were full of singing animals that did chores, right? "What's a Milliways?"

[heatherandsteel]

"No, you didn't. I mean I'm a Fae but none of my people control Milliways. You're in the Bar at the End of the Universe, which is over there,"

Then he gestures to the Window, its hard to miss but he doesn't like it. Its lovely but too much destruction.

[the_greywaren]

"Fae." His brow lifts. Which was more strange, fae or the end of the universe? His eyes follow to the window. "Holy shit."

Standing up he walks slowly to the window. "I'm not dreaming?"

[heatherandsteel]

"No, you're not. Yes, its a real sight and its on a loop,"

That's probably the strangest part to him about the Window and he follows Ronan.

[skatefree_diehard]

Noah wanders in from outside, plucking idly at a large, purple leaf he has clutched in his hands. He clings to the sides of the bar, skirting around the people.

His smudge is somewhat faded today, but ever-present. He does not see Ronan, at first.

[the_greywaren]

Ronan doesn't see Noah at first. He just feels something very, very familiar. That strange, tingling, cold feeling when ever Noah came into a room. He had to be imagining it like he often did when he was missing him. His mind playing tricks, giving him hope that maybe just maybe Noah would reappear. Ronan stared at his fries. Something told him to look up but the part of him that had been hurt by loss told him all he would find was disappointment.

A few fries were stuffed in his face. That feeling wasn't fading. He lifted his eyes and glanced around and dared himself to quietly ask, "Noah?"

[skatefree_diehard]

That voice.

Noah stops dead in his tracks. He feels as if he's been doused in cold water, and emotion prickles all the way along his spine and up his scalp; his useless breath freezes.

Slowly, hardly daring to so much as hope, he turns on the spot. When he sees Ronan - beautiful, terrifying Ronan - his eyes go wide.

His lips part but he doesn't say anything. Can't say anything.

[the_greywaren]

Please, he thinks over and over. Please just be here. Please don't really be gone. All the thoughts he has had over the last handful of months races through his head.

He reaches for his drink and gulps down half of it in an attempt to silence his now screaming thoughts. The drink burns and offers little relief. Over the rim of the glass he literally sees a ghost.

"Noah." Ronan chokes out as he sets his drink down and his eyes finally settle on his dead friend.

[skatefree_diehard]

A small, disbelieving smile tugs at Noah's lips. He takes one step forward, then another - and then he's rushing forward and grabbing at Ronan's sleeve as if to ground himself.

"Ronan?" he breathes. "It's you." He says it like a question he already knows the answer to: this feels like Ronan, the sharpness and spice that always suffusing his presence in a way that was tangible to Noah who perceived the world through unliving senses.

[the_greywaren]

Ronan had never felt Noah feel so solid. Like he was more. No longer a fading image of a boy. This had to be a dream. The danger in dreaming like he does is that sometimes it is very hard to tell what is real and what isn't.

"I thought you were gone." Alone in his room Ronan had cried when the realization that Noah was really gone hit him. Now he can feel him. It's so surreal he could cry again. Could but he won't. Ronan wasn't one to wear his feelings on his sleeve.

His fingers clutched Noah's ratty Aglionby sweater. "Are you real?"

[freedom_is_grey]

There is a woman seated nearby, white-haired and pointy-eared, with a spiraling black tattoo over her right eye and a smaller triangular shape on her left cheek.

At her feet is a huge brown war hound. Both of them look up and over at Ronan, after a moment, and the woman smiles.

"Good -- morning, I think? Only I've been working, so it might already be afternoon."

There are a few old books stacked on her table, several of which are lying open. Ancient knowledge can be a bitch to unearth.

[the_greywaren]

Her hair reminds him of Persephone. The books make him think of Gansey. His eyes drop to the hound and he almost smiles. Ronan might look like he's itching for a fight but he's a sucker for animals.

Shrugging off his leather jacket curls and points of black ink can be seen creeping out of the neck of his tee shirt and the short sleeves. He rubs a hand over his sheered hair.

He has no idea what time it is. "Hey." Good morning, afternoon or evening all rolled into one generic greeting. "Can I pet your dog?"

[freedom_is_grey]

"You can always feel free to ask him, if you want."

She grins, quick and bright.

"But I say yes. Liranan probably will, too."

In point of fact the dog looks up as they talk, barking once and heaving himself to his feet. Scritches are great! Hello new person! Hi!

[the_greywaren]

"Ask him? Does he talk?"

He looks at her like he might be amused or maybe he thinks she's crazy.

"Liranan? What does that mean?"

That's a name he's never heard before. Ronan scoots to the edge of the booth and holds out a hand to the dog to sniff.

[freedom_is_grey]

"He speaks dog, I suppose. But he understands human speech well enough. And elven."

Liranan yips once, sniffing Ronan's hand and then panting happily.

"As for his name, it was one of my earliest attempts to use the elven language. It was meant to mean 'very much vengeance', disguised with the letter L in front. But in reality it's mostly a set of nonsense syllables that sound pretty. "

[the_greywaren]

Ronan rubs the dog between the ears. He looks over at her.

"This is not very much vengeance."

[hate_gettin_older]

[Welcome to the game!]

There appears to be a one-sided argument going on in the booth next to Ronan's. Somebody on a cellphone, maybe? Except it sounds a lot like someone arguing with a waiter.

"How is that a fuckin soup?"

Pause. A faint squeaking noise.

"I'm not sayin it's your fault --"

A more emphatic squeaking.

"Well no, I should say not. But could you take this back and tell Bar I don't care if it's fuckin summer, if I ask for soup it's cause I want something hot?"

Squeak squeak. Tiny sigh.

"Thanks ever so."

And ... a tray with a bowl of gazpacho goes by Ronan's booth at just above floor level, carried by a white rat.

[the_greywaren]

[Thank you, Noah's player has mentioned you a few times!]

Quentin had mentioned rats. Ronan had yet to see the rats. He had asked for fries and a drink and went to the bathroom. When he got back they had been at the table. At first he had assumed they had been brought there by a person. Now, as he watches a bowl of soup waddle passed on the back of a rodent, he is looking at his fries differently.

"Fuck." He sighs. "The rats talk." Another sigh that is chased with a drink. "Where the hell am I?" This is a conversation he is having with himself but is loud enough to be heard.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Place called Milliways," says that same voice from the next booth, raised to carry this time, sounding both bored and cheerful. "Fuckin madhouse it is, but you get used to that."

[the_greywaren]

Ronan stares at his fries for a long moment debating if he should wait and see if the stranger would come over or if he should make the move. Eventually curiosity won out. He grabbed his fries and his beer and stood at the edge of the next booth over, hovering in an almost menacing way.

"You mind?" He nodded toward the seat.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Nah, go ahead."

Edgar sizes up the stranger briefly. Front, he decides almost immediately, but might not be terrible for all that.

[the_greywaren]

He takes a seat sizing him up as well. It's habit. A kid like Ronan in small town Virginia could have been bullied into oblivion. Instead he decided to become as mean as a snake.

"So rats." Ronan says as he plops down in the booth. "Fucked up your soup?"