milliways_bar | (no subject)

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As he suspected he would, Jim caught Sherlock's - heh, Rory's - stupid bloody cold. He went to bed angry, frustrated, and sick to the back teeth of this entire bloody bar.

He wakes up with a Welsh accent, a body that feels weirdly exhausted, and a whooooole lot of surprise at finding himself in a bedroom that is not wallpapered in Laura Ashley, cluttered with years' worth of books and theatre junk. Gethin has never set foot in a room so opulent, and so incomprehensible to him. He spends a good hour looking at the clothes, the books, the...frankly pornographic, yet extremely beautiful...photography on the wall of the library (the centrepiece of which involves his own face, and the blurred figure of a much taller man in the background. He doesn't look at it for long.) Everything is very, very weird.

In short, Gethin Roberts does not have a bloody clue what's going on. But at least there are clothes he recognises - comfortably 80s in style - and if the cold he's got means he can't go searching Jonathan out, at least there appears to be a...bar, downstairs?

What. The Actual. Hell.

[OOC: getting in under the wire! Open until the end of March. :)]

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'Can't hurt, surely?'

Gethin believes there's not much that can't be solved with communication and education.

"Its just -"

He looks down at his big hands.

"I really believed that he was my friend."

He looks back up at Gethin with wide, blue eyes.

Gethin looks back kindly. He's seen that expression on far too many faces. Kids who people like, right up until the moment they come out and find themselves friendless and homeless.

'He might be, you never know. You won't know until you talk to him. You can't just go by what your other friends say, not if they weren't there.'

Eric looks uncertain.

"Maybe? It's just - the others know him too. They say that he's - not safe."

Big, brawny Eric looks genuinely concerned.

Gethin looks uncertain too.

'Not safe?'

If this guy looks like Jim, and Eric looks like Eric, Gethin is failing to see the issue. Not that he would ever advocate violence of any sort, but it does seem to be a strange thing for Eric to be concerned about. To his credit, though!

'I didn't get the impression this was that sort of bar. It looks nice enough. I've only met nice people here so far.'

Eric nods.
"Oh yes, " he says. "Most people here are really nice. So you don't really expect -"

Assholes basically.

He nods sympathetically. Even if there's a traitorous voice at the back of his mind which points out that people are often hateful, violent and cruel. And think they're justified to be so.

But on the other hand, they can be the best. He'd be nowhere without his friends.

'Just stick with the nice people, then. But it doesn't mean you have to let idiots do whatever they want either. You can't let them walk over you.'

Eric looks sheepish.

"No. I guess not."

'...sorry, didn't mean to - I mean, it's up to you what you do.'

Gethin's quiet, but he's not one to sit back and let anyone get walked over.

"No. You're right. It's just - I'm just glad that some people don't mind vampires. And I try to be -"

Meek?
Non-threathening?

'I suppose it depends whether vampires give any reason to be not liked. I don't know much about them - like I said, none where I come from.'

That he knows about, at least.

'Always seemed stupid to me, hating a group of people without knowing anything about them.'

"Yeah. But, you know, I guess - We do drink blood."

So.

'Yeah.'

He can see the issue.

'But you do it with consent, you said.'

He nods. And then he sort of stops.

"Yeah," he says. "Emcee said that I have really good self control."
But he doesn't remember.

'Well, there you go. If no one's getting hurt, I suppose I don't really see the issue.'

He's aware this is probably an oversimplification; that even if Eric always asks permission, there's bound to be vampires who don't. But you can't tar everyone with the same brush. You just can't.

'But if you did take that other bloke's without asking, you can see why there'd be a problem.'

He nods a little.

Then he says,"Of course. But I think - sometimes it gets a little - muddled?"

'What, consent?'

He's pretty sure it's mostly clear-cut, when you come right down to it.

'Maybe. I suppose there can be difficulties, if you don't talk to each other.'

"It's more - sometimes it's a sex thing? But sometimes it isn't."

If he could blush ...

Gethin blinks. He seems to be doing that a lot.

'Well, consent's pretty important there too.'

Majorly, massively important.

'Even more reason to talk about it.'

"But I do. I just don't - I don't know what I used to do. But I do now."

Oh right, yeah. There's something he's been missing here.

'So what happened? Why can't you remember?'

"It was a witch," he almost whispers. "She took everything. All my memories. My name."

'...why?'

Jesus. That'd be awful.

He shakes his head.
"I don't know. I just remember running away from her. And then I met tjis girl, Sookie, and she gave me back my name. And then I came here, and my friends told me I used to be a Viking. Before I became a vampire."

Edited 2017-03-28 20:38 (UTC)

'She just took every memory?'

That is genuinely bad. Gethin feels quite ill at the prospect of it - though there is part of him that wonders what the circumstances were. Because there must surely have been a reason.