milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mel is in the bar.

What you want more?

OK, she's at a table with her feet up, leaning dangerously back on her chair balancing a toothpick on her nose.

What? She can do silly, OK?

[OOC: Going to Tae Kwon Do in 30min. Back at 9BST]

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There is a faint wave from a small sorcerer.

One who most certainly did not have enough hair for a pony-tail last she saw him.

"Hey!" Mel says with a smile, sitting up to greet him. "How have you been?"

"Gone."

He says after a moment, and without much smile. Not that he isn't pleased to see her, because he is, but the lines of pain around his lips and the sorrow etched into his eyes like acid on metal make a smile rather out of the question.

"Back to the war for a number of years. And yourself, As-yah?"

A wince, and all joviality vanishes. Not replaced by melancholy as such, merely sobriety.

"Also gone. But only for a month. Brought family back with me, though."

He takes in the set of her face, and hums softly. The harmony to her song, as a statement rather than a question.

"S'kyr'i'on, As-yah. If I can be of help, speak the word and I am yours."

She listens to his hum, and despite herself, smiles. It's a very beautiful tune, to her ears.

Eventually:

"No.

"No, I don't think I want your kind of help. He's playing by the rules, and isn't a threat, really. Not yet.

"Thank you, though. Means a lot."

"Then,"

He says quietly, with a half bow,

"I am here as friend, to listen when you would speak."

"Thanks," she retains the smile. "But I've talked and takled about that.

"I have a new suite," - subject change - "132 with Lilly."

"About that or anything else."

Is the quiet laugh, and his head tilts,

"I do not think I have met Lilly."

"Shame, she's really fun. Blonde girl, about seventeen. Great sense of humour. You should meet her. Most everyone likes her."

"I will watch for her."

He vows, with a small smile,

"And did you know that I am courting?"

Beat, while she works out what that means.

"Really? That's rocketship. Anyone I know?"

It probably isn't, she's aware of this.

"The Lady Bianca."

He flicks an illusion of the small, golden vampire,

"A vampire of a world not related to that of the Slayers, not a demon at all. She is rather older than I, and lives by the ocean."

Mel blinks, and her smile freezes a little. Shje can't really help it, she has a prejudice against vampires that's not fading very fast.

"She's beautiful," she concedes. "I bet you make a great couple."

He states again, with understanding,

"Not like the kind you know."

Then he nods,

"I feel that we do. We are both interested in languages, and music, and the ocean. We both understand the passage of years as something that sends others ever farther from us, and us farther from what we grew up knowing."

"I know that," she does, "I'm sorry. It's just a thing."

Drinking blood, for one. Ew.

"That's good though. I'm happy for you, I am. You deserve to be happy. And she sounds right for you."

In deference to her prejudices, he will never tell her that it really wasn't that bad to donate.

"I do understand. I simply did not want you to be surprised should you meet her. She is...wonderful. I do not know if this will be a lasting thing, but I do have hopes."

Mel grins, more easily. "Hey, I'm jake enough with Nick, even Drusilla, and she's from my world. It's OK.

"It's nice to have hopes. But even short term things can be fine. It's not like I have a future with Mikey."

"She is closer to the sort of vampire that Nick is than to your kinds."

He says with a laugh,

"And that is the way of things here, is it not? Rare that one can form a lasting relationship; as worlds carry us away again and again."

"That's true," Mel agrees. "'Specially for people like you'n me. Destiny and all that toy."

"Indeed."

He blows a disgusted breath,

"Daelion Fatemaster has it in for us, and each turn of the Wheel seems worse than the one before it."

No, he doesn't know about Moiraine's world's veiw of the Wheel of Time. He'd probably freak if he did.

"Faith said he met Him once," Mel says thoughtfully. "Said He couldn't control what we had to do."

"Really."

He says it with a considering frown,

"This...is good to know."

Arithon s'Ffalenn may be one of the few people who would try to coldcock Destiny upon meeting that personification. Who would blame him?

He can get in line, really. Lots of people have it in for Him.

"Well, means we don't have anyone to blame, which is kinda a pain, really,."

"I can blame Desh-theire. It is what cursed me."

He says immediately.

She concedes this.

"Well, then. That's jake.

"Except not, of course."

"Jake?"

He tilts his head in confusion.

"Oh sorry.

"Um, cool? Bearable, something's that's OK, acceptable?"

She furrows her brow. "It's slang from my time. No one understands me sometimes."

"I speak a language dead for centuries, even on my worlds."

He points out with a laugh,

"No one understands me, often, as well. Jake, bearable. I shall remember this."

Mel smirks.

"Thanks. It's nioce to be understood."

"I shall do my best."

The bar should fear Arithon learning Mel's slang. It will be...odd.

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