milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Here is a face that hasn't been seen in the bar for quite some time.

Well, it's sort of a face. It's definitely on the hairy side just now. Clean, but pushing into unkempt. His hair is the same, and when he opens the door to the bar, he pushes it back, out of his face, a bemused smile mostly hidden in his beard as he shuts the door behind him, cutting of the bright, Pacific sunlight and the faint echoing of gulls.

His guitar is still strapped to his back, and he reaches his hand up over his shoulder to brush the head with a fingertip as if to reassure himself it's still there. Satisfied, he makes his way to the bar and, before he can order, a sparkling glass of Atlantean appears.

"Good to see you too, lovely," he said, lifting the glass to his lips for a quick sip before turning to survey the room.

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"We are all the tools of Fate," Orpheus agrees, his tone a little dark, though more resigned than bitter. "But you are traveling your path with honor, and towards love, whether it knows you or not when you reach it."

"Just so." Sinric nods, acknowledging Orpheus' resignation. "But every now and then the Fates are kind. They've lead me back to someone I never expected to see again in this life. And in turn, I am leading him onto a path that will suit him better than the duty he has caged himself in."

Orpheus smiles faintly and sips his drink. "In my current time, people believe that they create their own fate, that their choices define their destiny. I am no longer sure that's not the truth of it."

"You are from the 21st Century?" Sinric asks, glancing over Orpheus' clothes. His own are late dark age European but expensive and well made. "It would seem most I know from that age share that opinion. Whether the will of man has strengthened over time, or the will of the gods has waned, I do not know."

Orpheus' clothes place him somewhere between 1890-2018, roughly. Plain linen trousers and a white, buttoned shirt. Even his hair, grown as it is beyond the possibility of ruling, doesn't give him a distinct time so much as an idea of someone who's been long away from society.

"It's...difficult to say even having witnessed the transition."

"Such passing of time is hard to fathom. To see even from within." Sinric nods. "Is that why you have chosen to be ruled by the seasons rather than the flow of fashion and time?"

"At the moment it's because I cannot bear the darkness."

He tends toward the maudlin on any given winter, but it's been worse than usual lately, so he thought he'd remove as much of that source of misery as he could.

"Those whose memories linger on darkness are drawn most to the light." Sinric nods. "That I understand well. But you have come back to Milliways at a good time. The last of the cherry blossoms are still falling and the land is warm with new life."

"It's spring here, then?" His mood lifts slightly at that, and he sits up straighter, looking around the room, searching for a head of warm, blond hair, but nowhere does he see Demeter. Not surprising, but still disappointing.

"The Lady of Spring was here last time I returned but that was some weeks ago by my own time. How long it was in the bar, I cannot say." Sinric says, as if reading his thoughts.

Orpheus supposes he was more obvious than he intended.

"It would be good to see family again."

And Demeter would understand so much.

"I'm sure you'll find each other, now that you've found your door again. Will you stay a while? Take your ease?"

He glances toward his door, and his hand goes to his chest, where a slender, silver chain disappears beneath his shirt.

"I think I will." Ease would be nice.

"You worry the door might leave you stranded?" Sinric asks, just as softly as before.

"No, it isn't that."

He'd be perfectly happy to stay here. There's nothing waiting for him in his world but a wide expanse of sea and the sound of waves against the hull of his boat.

"No," he says again. "It will be good to stay."

"Will you play while you're here? I would be honoured to hear you."

"I play wherever I am," he says with a faint smile. "I play because I must."

He won't play now. Not in the middle of the bar. No one would thank him for what resulted.

"Because the song must be sung." Sinric nod. "Then I hope I have a chance to hear you."

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