milliways_bar | (no subject)

Her entrance is watched by an elf lord.

He is younger than he tends to be when coming here. And his tiredness is more physical exhaustion than the weight of millenia.

He is building a stronghold. A home. And trying to put trust in the fragile peace (and failing).

Seeing someone smiling and engaging in banter is cheering.

Sunshine sips the tea, appreciative, as she catches up with the Bar, seeing if she has missed anything important while away in her world. It doesn't seem so, though the days continue to shorten as autumn progresses.

She eventually notices that she is being watched, and looks up to find the elf lord. Her smile brightens with friendly recognition before she catches the difference in her friend's age. The difference in her friend's shadows. Elves age so gracefully that it is not easy a thing for her to tell immediately, even with the advantages her Dark Sight gives her.

"Good morning," she smiles, the greeting said with hope. He looks so tired.

('What comes after bone-tired?')

"Would you like some tea and something to eat?"

He smiles back at her, a little surprised, and replies,"Thank you. That is very kind of you to offer."

He sounds - more formal, than she is used to. A little caution, perhaps.

But his smile is warm as he introduces himself, a hand to his heart,"My name is Elrond of Imladris."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Elrond of Imladris," the woman replies, truthfully. "My name is Rae Seddon, though most who know me call me Sunshine."

She orders a pot of the same warming tea the Bar had provided her, and another cup, and moves to serve up a small plate of the Pumpkin-Basil Pinwheels, still warm and smelling of autumn, from among the various baked goods on her tray.

He smiles.
"Being named for the sun is a fortuitous thing indeed," he replies, courteously.

The tea and baked goods smell incredibly good and he closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

"I've always liked it," she grins. "And tried to fit it, as well as I can. It's not a bad name, for a baker."

Synonymous with warmth, brightness, comfort, light, the end of darkness, and transformation. She can hardly complain.

"That is your profession? " he asks, curiously.
She will be able to recognise that light in his eyes.

It does perhaps seem a little brighter, here. Less tempered by experience.

"For the past ten years or so, yeah," she nods, smiling. "Head Baker at Charlie's Coffeehouse in Old Town, New Arcadia. It's... locally famous, at least."

"What is your Imladris like?" She knows something of what it becomes, but she can't help but be curious as to what it is like for him, at his current time.

"It's a noble task, feeding people," he says before taking a small sip of tea and a just as measured bite of the fragrant treat. There's an intensely focused pause.

"This is very good," he says, finally. "Very good."

Another small sip of tea. "Imladris is a beautiful valley at the foot of a foreboding mountain range. Sometimes in the not too distant future, I hope that it will be a home of sorts. But for now it provides shelter to a third of my King's army. We are making plans for the gardens and some of the basic structures are done."

A small smile.

"Building is tiring work and the cold is approaching so we do not have much time.tk consider various options."

Her smile warms for the compliment and the understanding of her work, both, as she shifts her tray on the countertop and moves to cradle her teacup with both hands.

"It sounds marvelous, both the location and what it might become one day," she muses. "But yes, a lot of work goes into making any marvel."

"Is there... hm," she hesitates. "Is there anything you might need more of, for the work - apart from time? This place could be useful in that way."

He considers this.

"Perhaps? Right now, my only idea was to sit and rest a while. There are those among us who knows how to construct buildings far better than I, so I learn from them. And we mostly have the materials we need on hand."

He breathes deeply of the fragrant steam rising from his cup, as he thinks.

"We have been at war for a long time," he tells her. "And it is now - I will not say ended."
He looks down at the mug and then back at her.

"There's a lull. And I am finding it - strange to settle into."

"It can be hard to find the shape of oneself again, without an immediate external threat to orient around," she murmurs with her head tilted, a little wry. "But it's important not to miss the sunset worrying about nightfall. Take what peace you can when you find it, even if it is a temporary, fragile peace."

They're all the more important for their ephemeral nature.

"It sounds like you're taking advantage of lull to build something great, though."

Many among the Firstborn consider Men simple or foolish. Elrond does not. Short years grant a perspective long years might hide.

"That is very true," he agrees.

"And I hope it will be. I have plans for a feast hall that we might undertake once the sleeping quarters and storage houses are done. I should like if we had a place for song, no matter what comes next."

"Good food and good company, music and safety and warm places to sleep," she muses, smiling softly. Worthy goals, planning for when the peace has put down roots.

"Indulge me an additional point of advice?" Sunshine adds wryly over her tea, knowing a bit how it sounds. She know he's much older than she is, and she hasn't been involved in the creation of something on such a grand scale.
"Though their skills may or may not extend to building, involve those who would be cooking those feasts in the plans for the kitchens. Considerations for the amount of flat work surfaces, pantry space, and small organizational conveniences can make a world of difference."

If it is to be made to last, after all. Might as well involve the people who'll be using it.

He listens and nods, clearly paying attention and not just humouring her.

"That is a very good point. I shall remember that. There are those planning out the storage already. Both the buildings and the caves. Some of them are cool and dry enough for food storage."

He smiles.

"It sometimes seems like most of my meals have consisted of whatever could be eaten noiselessly and without the need for lighting a fire, so I am definitely not the right to ask."

Gently self-deprecating.

"Nothing wrong with different folks having different skillets," Rae smiles, amused.

"And sometimes by necessity, food must be fuel first," she nods, though she has set herself against that fact in all of her baking. She hates it when any of her regulars at the coffeehouse eat like that.

It means things are bad to the point even a delicious cinnamon roll might not help soften it.

"Yes," he agrees quietly.
"We build to sate those needs first. Shelter, warmth, food. But beams are decorated with carvings, and the gardens are laid out for efficiency and beauty. I could not bear if we did at least try to make it beautiful. "

"Of course," Sunshine agrees, smiling. "You're making shelter for now, but - given time and that level of care and forward planning - it will soon grow to be a home."

She does not say that she knows it will be beautiful, but there is surety in her tone. She has no doubt his home will be a beautiful one.

He notices the tone, but he doesn't address it.

He merely tucks it away as another sign that choosing this valley had been the right choice.

"I used to dream of a home as a child. Some place warm and safe and filled with laughter jbstead of sorrow. Mayhap it will come to pass now."

Not shared with his brother and perhaps not with children of his own, but still somewhat reminiscent of his dream. Their dream.

"That's a dream worth working to see it come true," Sunshine murmurs, her smile softening. "Build, cultivate a home like that, and it won't just a dream for anyone else, either."

No one need only dream of it, if it has been made a reality.

"What do you see growing in the gardens, come Spring?"

Edited 2021-11-24 05:01 (UTC)

"We are focusing on root vegetables that store well," he tells her. "That and medicinal herbs. The land isn't the best for growing grains yet, but grain is more easily bought than those two things."

There's a slight pause.

"And there will likely be a berry patch as well."

For the children and for the adults in need of cheering.

"Well yeah, of course there'd need to be a berry patch," she enthuses, her smile warming with the idea.

She may be envisioning elven children with their tongues stained purple, the telltale sign of a good berry patch. It's a terribly cute image.

"Maybe an orchard, for apples and stonefruit in a decade or so?"

"Most certainly. There are apple trees growing in the area already so we will probably start off with gathering seeds from those. Their fruit is quite small and tart so hopefully we can encourage other kinds to grow as well. Pears too, and plums."

He has clearly been giving this some thought.

"Sweet-tart for eating, but tart and firm-fleshed apples are the best for pies," grins the baker.

"It sounds like you've picked a good spot. Is there anything that led you to choose this valley in particular?"

His smile turns grim.

"We were backed into it and besieged during the war. But I remember feeling - safe there. Protected. The land welcomed us. And we needed that."

"Sounds like she might need help getting rid of the evidence." Jon looks up from a pile of hand-written statements (they're supposed to be from September 2001 to December 2001, according to what was scribbled on the box. So far he's found two accounts from World War Two, a rambling diatribe from a California stoner from the Seventies, a letter from 1872, and a takeout menu for a Chinese restaurant.

The Kung Pow chicken, at least, looks somewhat interesting.

So do those cinnamon rolls.

Jon also looks like he could use a nap or twelve. Look, there's a non-zero chance his coworker (and perhaps the rest of them too?) is being hunted by a woman who is literally maggot food. It's... disturbing, to say the least.

"Most conniving bar in the multiverse, it's true," Sunshine chuckles as a twirly straw is added to her tea. Silly countertop. She smiles at Jon. "She's probably hoping there won't even be a crumb of evidence left."

Sunshine has never been above puns.

"You willing to help out with that?" As in, you look like you need a good meal or three and a nap or twelve. "The cinnamon rolls were in the oven not thirty minutes ago."

Just long enough to wait for them to be iced.

On one hand, it's a bit much, isn't it? Who even orders a pastry of that size?

On the other hand... worms. He's earned so many indulgences, dealing with those damn worms and complaints about said worms every damn day.

"It's practically my civic duty." Jon notes gravely.

"You're a good man, Jon Sims," the baker replies, just as heartfelt. "Thank you for your service."

It is a pretty big cinnamon roll she serves up for him (with fork, knife, and napkins in deference to the nearby statements). Still warm, very soft, fragrant with melty cinnamon-sugar and dribbly vanilla icing.

"You've been doing all right?"

Jon opens his mouth to reply with the very traditionally British 'I'm doing well, thank you', but... well. Where else would anyone ever believe his story? Except at the Institute of course, but... well.

"Feeling a bit hunted, to be honest." He admits as he starts teasing apart the steaming roll.

Sunshine pauses, her gaze searching his face.

"Well that's never a good feeling," she replies, after a moment, speaking from experience. "I'm sorry you're going through that. What is it that's hunting you?"

"Worms." Jon sighs, "There's... a woman who has been infested with worms, and she... attacks people with them? Somehow, accounts are a bit fuzzy since most witnesses end up dead. But she seems to have taken a particular hatred to one of my coworkers, and perhaps the rest of us as well. There has been a marked uptick of worm sightings in the last few weeks."

"Shiva wept," Rae says, a few moments after that starts to sink in. "That's... I was hoping for something straightforward like ghosts, or vampires. But worms???"

"What does one do against weaponized worms? Chalk circle? A whole lot of diatomaceous earth?"

"So far they seem reluctant to enter the Institute, so... well. I've been spending a lot of time at work. Of course then people bring me things like that damn tooth apple..." He sighs, biting into the piece of cinnamon roll he's teased away.

After the idea of being hunted by worms, she hesitates.

"Dare I ask?"

"A professor leaving a statement with us provided some proof of his story - an apple that, when cut open, had teeth inside, arranged into a smile." Jon explains, unfortunately not providing a non-weird explanation for 'tooth apple'. "Considering the statement, I should be thankful that's the only thing he brought."

Jon is not thankful. At all.

"That... is unsettling and weird," she says. The statement is completely unnecessary, but saying so helps get out some of that sympathetic knee-jerk revulsion. "Terrible side-effect of being the head archivist of a collection of the weird and unsettling, I suppose."

"Glad you have a chance to get out for a while, here," Rae adds, looking at him. "Get something to eat, catch some rest."

Edited 2021-11-23 04:49 (UTC)

"The unsettling and weird definitely didn't come up as part of the perk package." Jon notes wryly. "This cinnamon roll makes up for a lot of it though."

Sunshine chuckles. "Happy to help. They aren't much, really..."

Expertly-made spirals of soft, warm dough layered with melty cinnamon-sugar and dribbling with freshly-made vanilla icing. All human things.

Comforts, yes, but not solutions.

"Some of the stuff you mention makes vampire politics seem straightforward and clean, by comparison," she adds, wry. "I don't know if they can do much against weaponized worms and apple teeth, but - in the future too - if there's weirdness some cinnamon rolls could help make a little less unsettling, you know where to find me."

"They're more help than a lot of things have been lately. My coworker's major contribution lately has been a repeated problem in forgetting to put on pants when there might be other people in the archives." He grumbles, because it's easier to be huffy about Martin's lapse in clothing etiquette than examine what else he might feel about it.

Sunshine stares a little, wondering how one could forget such a thing.

"Hang on, is he living in the archives?"

It's the only situation she can think of where one might end up undressed at work due to the threat of weaponized worm invasion.

"I've let him stay there - I have a cot in one of the back rooms, so it seemed... better, anyway. She managed to trap him in his apartment for over a week, so as you might imagine he's not keen on going home." Jon explains. He can entirely understand an unwillingness to face Jane Prentiss. She's... terrifying, frankly.

There's only so much yikes one can fit on a face.

"That's good that it was an option for him. That sounds terrifying; I can't imagine."

"Any... idea why she has it out for your colleague and the archives?"

~~Did someone file her statement in the Discredited section?~~

"Evidently he ran across her while trying to find more information about a different statement. I don't know if she started tracking him just because he was there, or if it was because of his job at the Institute... obviously while the former option is horrible, the latter speaks to a more targeted approach." Jon sighs. "And Sasha may be being stalked by some other sort of entity that may or may not be friendly... it's all a bit of a mess."

Jon would NEVER, there's hard cold evidence concerning Jane Prentiss, he just doesn't know what's behind it, and isn't actually super interested in finding out by direct experimentation, he's fine, second-hand accounts work just fine actually.

Edited 2021-11-24 04:49 (UTC)

"Just making friends left and right, aren't you?" She remarks, wry but with real sympathy.

Making fiends, perhaps.

"Glad it's... safe, in the archives, but that can't be easy on the staff. Or on you. What's this other entity that's been bothering Sasha?"

"Someone, or something, that looks like a man until you see his reflection, that knows far too much about Institute business. He keeps showing up on her way to work." Jon explains, disgruntled and trying to sweeten his mood with cinnamon roll. "He calls himself Michael."

"Michael is... not the scariest name one might think of, so it's probably actually his name," she hazards.

"At least he doesn't sound actively antagonistic? Weaponized worms are plenty to be getting on with, I imagine."

"More than enough. I'm hoping eventually she gets tired with lurking and goes to find someone else to antagonize." Jon sighs, neatly pulling off another wisp of fluffy iced dough. "If nothing else, we could stop getting pointed comments from local extermination companies."

"I imagine most archives only have to worry about pests like roaches or silverfish, or mice using their records as nesting materials," she remarks.

"My friend Aimil - she works at the big library downtown - has a particular dislike of termites and silverfish," Sunshine adds, wry. "Apparently there was a war over the library's history section a few years ago when termite damage was discovered."

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Young!Elrond

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