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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"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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