milliways_bar | Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th

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Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th - New Orleans Mardi Gras

The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...

(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)

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"There are many who would judge me for that." Sinric muses, grateful Childermass isn't one of them. "I believe I saw a bookstore in one of these alleys."

"It harms none, so who has the right to judge?" He looks that way. "Shall we see what books folk around here like to buy?"

The bookstore is dark and smells of worn leather and old paper. A haven of the bibliophile. "This looks the kind of place you might find something to delight in." He muses.

"I think it very likely. This looks to be a proper bookshop."

The smell of paper is one of his favourite things.

"Then go explore." Sinric smiles, "but you will forgive me if I stop across the way and rest my feet?" There's a little cafe just across the alley. Four inch heels take getting use to. "Shall I order you a drink, for when you're ready?"

"By all means." He nods. "A coffee for me, I think, and I shall be back in half an hour."

"Don't rush." Sinric touches his arm softly, "such explorations should not be rushed." He gives Childermass' hand a squeeze and steps outside.

Childermass heads for the bookshop.

It does end up being somewhat more than half an hour, and his satchel looks fuller when he comes into the cafe.

Sinric has company, a young fair-haired man, but they part as Childermass comes over.

Sinric smiles in greeting, a warm shawl around his shoulders as he signals for the coffee. "Your explorations bore fruit, it would seem?"

"Indeed they did, to my satisfaction." And these books are all his, which his master will never see. "And you found a new admirer?"

"Pleasant company isn't difficult to find on a night like tonight." He smiles, shrugging.

"May I ask what you found?"

"Texts on the history of this city. And one or two regarding the voodoo magic they have here."

"They sound fascinating." And Sinric means it. "It seems a city that wears it's history as scars as much as battle cries."

"I think so", he says with a nod. "The coloured folk of this place have enough of them, for sure."

"I understand it was a place founded on slavery?"

"Aye." He doesn't approve of slavery, never has. "Even in this time - two hundred years, it can hardly have been forgotten."

Sinric isn't sure how to answer that, being an ex-slave himself. But his was a difference sort of slavery.

Childermass glances at him, then shrugs.

"It isn't so long in my time since many saw black slaves as no better than farm animals, to be worked or whipped to death with no more thought given it."

And he has a deep secret reason to hate that.

"I wish I knew how to answer that." His shoulders stiffen uncomfortably. "As an exslave, so many seem to wish me to declaim all slavery. But for me, it was my making."

"Perhaps things were different then. Could a slave be freed, remain in your society, and be respected?"

Sinric nods. "And rise to positions of power and influence, should they posses the ambition and skills."

He flattens his hands on the table "I know it has not always so. Even in my own time, the place of a slave could be very different city to city, place to place. Even household to household. But I am grateful for what I had, and cannot and will not be made to decry that." His voice wavers, clearly distressed. "I know others have suffered but I cannot make that right by regretting my past."

"It may be hard for others, who have not lived your life", Childermass says carefully, "to see past the suffering they have heard so much about - either as a descendant of those who suffered, or feeling the shame of knowing their forefathers caused it - and they may come from a time when slavery was truly an evil. But if you felt yourself treated well and cherished, where otherwise you might have starved or been in less kind hands, you should indeed be grateful for it."

"I an grateful and glad." He nods, trying to control the surge of discomfort at where their conversation had lead. "And yes, others have expressed such unhappiness in my presence. Some in... quite aggressive ways." Hence his reaction.

He finishes his drink and sets the cup down. "If you will forgive me, Mr Childermass, I think I shall return to the party. Your company's been most welcome but... perhaps now is a good time to part."

"There is nothing to forgive." He's not quite sure how their conversation got here, when he tries to track it back. "I shall see you back at the bar, then."

It's not Childermass' fault. A couple of unhappy encounters at the bar have left that particular nerve very raw indeed. "Until we next meet, I hope you enjoy your evening."

Carrying his shoes, Sinric heads back towards the sound of jazz and drinking.

{ooc: thank you for that. It was a lovely thread. Sorry Sinric freaked out.}

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Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th - New Orleans Mardi Gras

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