milliways_bar | (no subject)

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A pretty, young Welsh princess is in the bar, sitting in a booth, back to the wall, sipping a glass of red wine.

She wouldn't mind some company, really, and she's quite possibly the most harmless thing in the bar. Well, except for the kittens.

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A little reddish monkey climbs up her table and looks pathetic and hungry.

She blinks. Several times.

Tentatively, "Hello?"

The monkey chatters at her, and leaps onto her shoulder. "Ni hao."

Cywyllog goes absolutely still. She has, of course, never seen a monkey before, and contemplates screaming. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, her voice has decided not to co-operate. Instead, she just stares at it, eyes wide.

The monkey investigates her hair for bugs.

"Please don't hurt me." she whispers meekly.

The monkey is tiny! And furry! And disappointed. No bugs.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Thank you." She tries to remind herself that she's in a strange, magic place where the dead walk and talk. Why should strange creatures be any different?

"What are you?"

"I'm a monkey!" He doesn't explain any of the really weird stuff. "What are you?"

He knows what she is. He's just weird.

"Mon-key." She repeats slowly. "I've never seen anything like you before. I would be Gwyneddian."

"There are lots of monkeys in the world."

"They like to eat fruit." Hint.

"I have not seen much of the world."

She's fairly good at getting hints, though. "Would you like me to get you some?"

"Giving to the priesthood insures a good rebirth." This is how you say yes without invalidating a vow to take only food freely given.

"I see."

She walks to the Bar. "A bowl of fruit, please." One appears, and she carries it back tot he table, setting it in front of the monkey.

"There you are. All yours."

"Ahh, you are blessed among women." Monkey dives into the bowl bodily. "You will surely be reborn as a god, or a priest, or a monkey."

She smiles. "I think any of those would do nicely."

"You could be a monkey now," he says thoughtfully.

"I think for now, I would like to remain as I am."

"Mmmp." Monkey continues to shove fruit into his mouth.

She watches him and smiles. "You shouldn't eat too quickly, you'll make yourself sick."

"My stomach is an iron cauldron," he says, muffledly.

"If you say so."

The bar looks a bit crowwded tonight, and Lysistrata could use meeting some more people, so she politely asks, "May I join you?"

Cywyllog smiles at the woman. "Certainly. Tables seem to be scarce this evening."

Strata rolls her eyes. "I know. And a lot of new faces. Well, at least for me. I've been spending too much time in my room, I guess. I'm Lysistrata, or Strata for short."

"I'll have to take your word for it, as I am one of those new faces." She smiles again and gestures for her to sit. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Strata. I am Lady Cywyllog."

Strata sits, none too gracefully.
"What brings you to Milliways, Lady Cywyllog?"

"I don't know." She furrows her brow, worried. "I was heading out to the courtyard, but the door led here instead."

"That's how I ended up here too, the second time.. Well, at least you're not dead and bound here. Well, I am. Bound here, at least." She looks away, a bit wistfully. "You'll find a lot of dead people. Some of my best friends are dead." She grins.

"Bound means you can't leave, yes? If so, I fear it is the same for me." Cywyllog sighs.

"I have met a few dead people already, but none that I know." A slight wince. "Well, I suppose I know one of them, but not exactly... it's complicated."

She shakes her head. "How long have you been here?"

"The first time, about a week, the second, for the past three months, at least by here's time. Not that I should care about Athens' time, though." Her voice hints that she very much would like to know what was going on in Athens.

"You are Greek, then? I hear Athens is lovely, though I've never been there myself."

"It is, it is, especially dawn from the Akropolis. You should go if you can." She cocks her head. "Then Athens exists in your time. We must be from the same world, or a similar one. Where are you from?"

"There is an Athens, and a Rome." Cywyllog nods. "I am from Wales originally, Gywnedd to be more precise, though I currently live at Camelot. When I'm not here, of course."

I am afraid I do not know of this place. Perhaps it is past where our ships have explored, or was founded at a later time. What is it like?"

"Gwynedd is... beautiful." She smiles sadly. "I grew up on the coast of Ynys Mon, which has a rocky shore and plenty of grass to run in. And the sea air..."

Cywyllog's voice trails off and she wipes away a stray tear. "I am sorry. I haven't seen home in many years and I miss it."

Strata smiles indulgently.
"But you can go back there, someday? You are alive and of strong body. You will go home someday."

Cywyllog answers very carefully. "Providing I ever leave this place first, I could go home under certain circumstances."

"You'll go home when you are supposed to, I guess. You'll just open a door and be home. Don't worry. Unfortunately, my bedtime is fast approaching. Perhaps we can talk at a later time?"

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