Saturday dinner multipup

[cook_the_rude]

On Saturday around dinnertime, the bar is full of people. Among them are:

• Dr. Hannibal Lecter, eating spicy tandoori dodo with naan and rose water lassi -- at the moment, his entire attention is dedicated to the food, but that might change;
• Father Pearse Harman, having fish pie while reviewing his notes for tomorrow's sermon -- he always preaches ex tempore, but likes to have note cards to make sure he doesn't forget a salient point;
• Dorian Gray starting off his evening with champagne, oysters and strawberries:
• Alex Vause, who is snacking on small bit of vegetables -- tiny tomatoes, little carrots, miniature cucumbers, celery stalks, sliced bell peppers ant that kind of thing -- while devouring a huge historical novel that looks a bit as if it had been left behind by Madame Thénardier;
• Ragnar Lothbrok at the bar drinking his way through a flat green plastic bottle with a black label declaring BRENNIVÍN -- this particular Viking may not have discovered Iceland, but he has certainly found Iceland's infamous svarti dauði;
  
• and finally, two cats sitting by the fireplace quietly communicating in feline -- ears and tails, licks and yawns and touches, yowls and purrs and mewls and growls. One of the cats is Myrrh; the other, taller and rangier and wearing a red collar, has not been seen in the bar for a long time and may thus be considered 'some unknown cat' by most patrons. It is in fact Teja himself, using a collar that had been Loki's gift to grant him (and Pyrrha) cat-shape, as he has much to talk about with Myrrh these days.

Comments

[like_quicksilver]

Gyda's in bar and in a better mood than last. In her hand is a straw hat decorated with things she's found on the beach. If she's going to do this challenge, she'll need to remain in milliways-but maybe she could get away with taking pictures back home if she were to keep a seperate album?

She's broken from her thoughts when she catches sight of Ragnar and rushed to the bar, very nearly bumping into it. She hadn't seen him for ages it felt like. "Father!"

Her attire's a home spun gown and over dress, similar to home but clearly made from Bar. She's gown too tall so she's had to ask Bar for any clothing like that from home. "Could you wear this hat for a picture?"

She held up the decorated hat.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Gyda!" Ragnar says, grinning at her. "You know, that is the weirdest thing anybody has said to me all week."

[like_quicksilver]

"It's for Milliscouts." She said. "The scout with the most pictures of people wearing their hat gets a large, chocolate easter egg."

Christian holidays were still strange, the modern ones atleast. Eostre was one of their names for Freya-therefor it wasn't anything her family could protest against.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I remember the eggs from last year," Ragnar nods, scratching his beard.

[like_quicksilver]

"It's an easter thing. I still don't really get the reference, but it's still a prize." Therefor it was worth earning.

She handed him the hat. "Could you put the hat on? I just need to take your picture with it."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"If you say so," Ragnar says, putting on the hat and grinning sheepishly at her.

[like_quicksilver]

She smiles and bites back laughing as she takes the picture. "Thank you." She takes the hat back from him.

"What's the news from Kattegat? Are you any closer to bringing Athelstan home?" It felt even longer then she'd seen him-because it was.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Not any closer to anything," Ragnar says, taking another swig of the drink in the green bottle.

[like_quicksilver]

She frowned and slumped in her chair at the table. "I haven't seen or heard from him since.." She mentally ticked off some events within milliways. "Not since October."

She still had the care package to give him-the candy apple would have to be replaced though.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar sighs morosely, and finishes the bottle with one great gulp.

[like_quicksilver]

She stares off in space a little, going to anything she wished to tell him. Her eyes went to the direction of the barn before a smile started to form on her face.

"Two of my goats are pregnant." She wondered if he already knew. "Rachel and Lucy, and they look like they're to give birth any day now, or atleast very soon."

They raised goats back home after all, she would know the signs by now, even after all this time.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar orders another bottle.

"Good," he says. "I saw. We get milk soon."

[sunbaked_baker]

A small plate with a cranberry-sprouted wheat muffin on it is set near Father Harman's notes. The muffin isn't terribly sweet, but it is warm and wholesome and the cranberries give it an occasional bright hints of tartness.

There coincidentally happens to be a baker nearby. She looks tired, and more than mildly unhappy behind her slight smile. "Evening, Father Harman."

[witchfinder_general]

"Good evening, Rae," Father Harman says, looking up from his notes and turning his attention to her. Were he in the habit of wearing glasses, he would take them off now.

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae smiles, but her heart isn't in it. "How've you been?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Decent and calm," Harman says. "The Code Fives are lying low at the moment, in my world."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Good, good," she replies, nodding slightly. "I'm glad."

Those times when everything calms down a bit, and the Next Big Threat isn't looming yet, are rare and should be savored.

"Getting ready for..." your speech isn't exactly the right phasing, she knows, "the lesson for mass tomorrow?"

She assumes sermons are all morally instructive in one way or another.

[witchfinder_general]

"Yes," Harman says. "It's the Sunday before Easter, so the theme is pretty set."

[sunbaked_baker]

She smiles, faintly wry. "Heavier on the rebirth aspects than on the fertility aspects, I suspect."

[witchfinder_general]

"Yes, that," Harman says. "With a side order of the other shoe dropping."

[sunbaked_baker]

"The 'other shoe' being...?" she asks, curious.

For that matter, which first shoe?

[witchfinder_general]

"People will cheer for you on Sunday and cry for your execution on Thursday," Harman says.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Is the lesson not to trust people?" Rae sasks, lightly. "What causes such fickleness, fear or just human nature?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Fear," Harman says, "especially fear of established authority."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Everyone loves a rebel, but everyone fears repercussions," Rae nods. She supposes people feel more secure when they know they're not going to be the scapegoat. That safety might provide some more volume to the yelling of the crowd.