milliways_bar | (no subject)

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From the back door storms the Valkyrie. Its been wet and cold and rainy and overall miserable outside- all the better for trying to work off a temper. And given Ace's good advice, she's totally forgotten she's wearing the space agey red and black armor.

What? It fits well and she can move around easily. You're not going to make her self-conscious of it again, are you?

Mwaha.

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"I know its my choice." Quietly. "And... I'm going to be needed there, so I'm going to go."

She eyes the drink. "Sweet... but you could probably etch stone with it." So the Valkyrie takes another sip.

"Of course. You're right to," she says, absently.

She takes another sip of the miscellaneous drink of Valkyric doom, and smiles. Good thing Meg isn't around.

"Does Archie know?"

"...I haven't told him yet. I just finally... made a decision for it. I don't know how to tell him." A deep breath, eyeing her drink, and she takes another healthy swallow.

"Him, or Yrael, or Arithon, or anyone else. ... I did tell Meg, though. And Alain knows. He helped me figure out my decision."

Neutrally: "Are you going to?"

"I haven't met Alain, I don't think. Who is he . . . ?"

She hesitates. "What did Meg think?"

"I should." Carefully, with another sip of her drink.

"Alain is a gunslinger, he was here and helping when the monsters were trying to come through the front door. He's... good at advice."

A faint, wry smile. "Meg understood. 'Que sera sera', she said."

Anthy smiles to herself. "Zettai unmei mokushiroku."

"A gunslinger?" There's nothing but friendly curiosity in her voice. "Lots of them, now."

Another pause. "'Should' . . ."

"Some of his friends, I'd guess." Svava nods. "Quite a few people had guns and were using them, that night."

A bit of a wry smile. "Should tell them."

"There's always things you should say," Anthy says, and takes another sip of mystery fluid. "Are you going to, though?"

Look at that! Half of the drink is gone, by now. Svava nods, carefully.

"Yes. When I can figure out how to, though. Its not... They're already upset about just the idea. Knowing for sure?" A sigh.

Anthy bites her lip. "If you didn't tell them . . ."

"It would hurt them." A quiet sigh. "Imagine, waking up and finding that your friend and loved one left, forever, without saying anything?"

An exaggerated shake of her head. "I won't do that to them."

For a split second bitterness flashes over Anthy's face, and then she lifts the drink again.

"Mm."

"Do you know much longer you'll have in the bar?"

"No." Woefully.

"Tommorrow, a week, a month... years. There were none of the signs for Ragnarok that I knew of, last I was home."

Anthy looks up, intent again.

"What are the signs of Ragnarok?"

Another sip of the drink.

"Three years of winter on Midgard. The mortals don't take it well. People die."

"Skoll and Hati catch and devour the sun and moon." Storm blue eyes flicker over to the windows. "And the stars go out."

".... I can't recall if Jormungand rises first or Fenrir gets loose. Um, but its a general attack of giants, dead and monsters towards Asgard?" She motions with her drink.

"And everyone goes out and fights, and everyone dies."

Haltingly, as though she is trying to remember the words: "The sun in daytime, the moon at night -- it ends with that day . . ."

(I didn't want to look at the real stars.)

She blinks. "Fenrir's gotten loose before. Bartleby had fits."

Svava blinks at Anthy, then looks over in the direction of the bar warily. "Homicidal little brat." And more muttering in norse.

She takes another sip of her drink.

Anthy looks wounded.

Svava blinks, looking back at Anthy, and with a wince, reaches over to pat her arm.

And catches herself from falling out of the chair.

"Are you all right?" Anthy says cautiously, and completely unnecessariy. And then, to keep with the theme: "I think you've had enough."

"I am." Svava nods, then downs the last of her drink.

"And now I've had enough."

Anthy waits for her to collapse; when she doesn't (at least not immediately), she says, "Can you walk?"

"Um.... maybe." A sheepish grin at Anthy.

"And since I don't want to be sober, could you help me get up to my room?"

Anthy looks uncertain, for a moment; Svava's not much taller, but Anthy has the upper body strength of dead spaghetti. "I can try," she offers, and gets to her feet, leaving the teacup behind.

As long as Anthy can help her keep balanced, it should be good. The last of the drink hasn't hit the Valkyrie's system yet.

Though she does start singing a viking drinking song, as they head for the guest rooms.

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anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com - 2005-03-19 09:34 (UTC) - Expand

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