milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Pre-Milliways: Salazar Slytherin prepares for a trip to meet his beloved Madaeze. He doesn't quite make it that far.]

Salazar Slytherin enters what he thinks is a tent in Diagon Alley. He, of course, is very wrong.

He groans heavily and turns back around to a blank wall. He isn't going home just yet.

His hands move over the wall as he murmurs some spells.

Blasted thing.

He closes his eyes and rubs his eyelids gently, his hissing low and guttural. Unless you can speak to snakes, chances are you won't understand him.

"BLASTED THING!"

Not too happy, that Salazar Slytherin.

[ooc: note to people: Plzkthnx no more threads? He'll be back tomorrow. note to self: have slow-timed with Arithon.]

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Salazar tends to over-step his bounds. By leaps and bounds. So he's probably going to have teeth marks all over by the time this conversation is over.

"I have never heard of you Master s'Ffalenn."

"Tier's'Ffalenn is the title. Or Your Highness, if you must. Arithon is what I am normally called."

For all that he's 5'2", he's got presence,

"And I am not surprised. I am, after all, from the worlds of Dascon Elur, Mearth, and Athera...not an Earth."

Salazar's eyes shine.

"Then you shall refer to me as Master Slytherin. For we appear to be equals, save for your obvious lack of any real power."

Salazar Slytherin may or may not be taking a jab at Arithon's height.

He laughs, soft and delighted and ever so free. There have been jabs made about his height, his parentage, and ever so many other things over the course of his life,

"Is power what would cause you to keep from testing our Lady? Then power it shall be."

And he holds out a hand which swirls with light/dark/shadow/sun/color/anti-color/shape/chaos in lines/patterns/weaves/atoms/jewels. Some call it the Pattern, or the Face of God. Arithon calls it Ath. This is the pattern of a life, and this one is Arithon s'Ffalenn.

"I am the Tier's'Ffalenn, Bane of Desh-theire, foretold in the first Prophecy of the Mad Prophet. Sorcerer trained in Rauven Tower upon Dascon Elur. Masterbard by the training and will of Halliron Masterbard. Crown Prince of Rathain, Crown Prince of Karthan, a pirate by need of my people. Teacher to the e'dal Ka Ingress, Ro Ostium, Ro Jones, san'dein Ka Raven, and Cianor Ka Bianca Chiavalden. Nastir al fal'al'Door.

Most important, however, I am denizon of Milliways Bar and member of Security. Guard your magics well, Master Slytherin, for in this place the Will of the Lord Bartender is that none shall lift hand to another without Security confining them within the cells. The Lady Bar is one of those denizens within this place, and should you harm her there will be consequences beyond even those of attacking another person."

Nothing in his tone is at all threatening, really. Simply matter of fact, and he lets Salazar look deep into the tangled, iron resolve that is a great part of Arithon's life pattern for as long as he wants.

"You and I, we are equals. Why would you concern yourself with such insignificance as guarding a mere object?"

"She is a person."

He says it flatly,

"A stationary, non-human person but a person none the less. I am s'Ffalenn, and she is one of my friends."

Bar accepted him long before most of the people did.

"Foolish." He shakes his head.

"Only if you choose to believe that there is nothing that you have not seen. The Lady Bar is the best of people."

"Of course she is." A wait rat scurries by. "And I'm sure those are little Lords."

"That one is probably a female."

He says mildly. The mildness of his tone is almost a slap all by itself,

"They are the blood upon which this place runs, for the maen do the majority of the service. They live here by choice, choosing to devote their time to those who are Bound. Such as you, trapped away from all that you know and forced to live off of whatever scraps of life you can gather; merely one more patron in a place known for powerful patrons."

Somehow he managed to make the taller man sound like a charity case. Arithon has talent.

"You annoy me." Salazar walks to a table and sits, flinging his hand at Arithon absent-mindedly.

"Why do you insist on believing that I have no great power? Have you never heard of I, the Last Son of Slytherin?"

Pompous? Heavens no.

"I am good at that."

He says blandly, ignoring the hand-flinging,

"I do not think you are without power, merely that most of those here have great amounts of it."

A pause, and a bright smile,

"And very few of us need a wand to do what your world does. Heard of you? Why should I? My worlds are not your world. I was five and twenty before I ever saw so much as a glimpse of an Earth."

Salazar takes out his wand and before flinging it on the table, eyes it, holding the ends with his finger tips. He clasps his fingertips together.

"I don't need to use my wand. I choose to use it because it tends to strike fear in the non-magickal beings that I encounter in my daily doings far more than using hand motions."

Those eyes of Arithon's hold emotion like a physical thing,

"And yet some of us need not make hand gestures, or speak words. Some of us are as much of the magic as using the magic. There are beings here which are nothing but magic, who linger near those called divine or infernal. You are a powerful wizard, but there are those here who make the strongest of sorcerers seem as weak as any magicless human."

He gestures, casually, to the observation window,

"The universes end here, and beings of great power shake the boards with their treads. Here you may meet anything you have ever longed for, and everything you have ever feared."

Those damn, damned, and thrice damned eyes of his are so clear, and so deep, and seem to suggest that he's thinking that even if Salazar blusters that he fears nothing the little bastard knows better. Everyone fears something.

"I suppose then, Master.. what was your surname?" Salazar's going to take a different tack.

"s'Ffalenn. Arithon s'Ffalenn of Talera s'Ahelas by Avar s'Ffalenn, of the line of Torbrand s'Ffalenn as established by the Fellowship of Seven in the First Year of the Third Age of Athera."

There is dry amusement in the fine voice, Arithon has always been amused by how much royal pedigrees sound like horse pedigrees.

"Well, that is a fine long line. I am merely Salazar Slytherin, Last of the Great Sons of Slytherin, as I've said before. Repeatedly."

Salazar inclines his head apologetically.

"I am, as you can tell, new to this place. I came through a portal through which I wished to arrive in a tent where I barter for things that my beloved finds enjoyable. I am not always this disagreeable, I assure you."

At least, if you have the right sort of blood line.

He dips his head in a slight nod, not enough to consider a bow but enough to be an acknowledgment of Slytherin's apology,

"This is Milliways Bar, the restaurant at the end of the universes. Home to many things, of many worlds, many times, and many places within those worlds and times and things. If you are Bound, chances are it is for a reason. A lesson to learn, a thing to do. I would venture a quarter of our patrons are Bound, and perhaps half of those are dead."

Arithon is always this disagreeable. If provoked. Well, perhaps not always but Salazar Slytherin lacks the necessary features to get Arithon to overlook the provocation.

"The dead congregate here?" No, of course Salazar isn't thinking about making an army of the dead. Inconceivable.

"This place is similiar in a way to my home; the dead often congregate within the walls of my castle. And often I feel Bound within those same walls. By obligation to my family mostly. But that will change soon enough. At least, it will, once I... unbind.. myself from this place."

"Not as ghosts. The dead get a second life here."

And if Salazar Slytherin has any intent on binding dead to his cause (whatever it may be) unwillingly, well. He'd make an interesting smear when Security was done,

"I think that if you consider this the same as your home, you do not look closely at it. This place is unique to the worlds."

And then, with a tired shake of his head,

"I shall leave you to your attempts at unBinding yourself, then. I am afraid I must go."

Because those two heading outside weren't right...and this puts Salazar Slytherin as the last person to see Arithon Friday night.

"That's fine then. Thanks to you Master s'Ffalenn."

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