milliways_bar | (no subject)

There is a tall skinny man in a black coat blinking at her from the bar.

"You are fond of red, then? It is a pretty color, I think."

Hello.
I am fond of red, and of wings.
Do you have wings?

I am Kassandra. Only for tonight, I am my lord Morningstar, who is called Samael, who is called Lucifer.

Who are you?

Raven grins, brightly.

"They call me Raven."

He tilts his head.
"It is descriptive, in truth. Wings are very good for flying, though the feathers sometimes itch."

Do they call you Raven, or is that your name?

Names are very important. To know a name is to know the creature.

These feathers do not itch, but then, I have no wish to fly.

...What do you here? Did you come here because you were lost? Are you bound here? Have you friends here? I have not seen you before, unless in the rafters, or in the shadows. I have no room of my own here; I live in the shadows, too.

Raven blinks.

"I made it my name, I think. I like it."

He shrugs.

"There are things that I do not remember, perhaps. What brought me here is one of them. There are other things, I think. It is irritating."

He wrinkles his nose.

Perhaps your coat is making you itchy. Is it wool? You should find a cotton one.

"I could, but I have had this one a long time. It is like an old friend, only it does not speak. I find this oddly restful, perhaps."

*She pats the coat, gingerly, as if she expects it to express its personality.*

Can you fly?

"Yes, though not in this body, perhaps. The bird one works better. You have seen ravens before? I am not certain."

He sounds curious.

I have seen ravens, yes. They fly over the field of battle. Before. After.

And the gods use them, because they are clever birds. They will trick you for the sake of a shining thing.

Raven smiles, very slightly.

"They are my cousins, yes. Though mostly I teach, I think. Purposeless tricks are boring."

There is a pause.

"I am not much of a one for being used, perhaps. They have learned not to try, mostly."

They used me, once. They were crueller in that time, and in the time of my fathers, than they are now.

They ruined me and people said I was mad. Perhaps I am.

*she straightens his collar.*

I hope you stop itching. You seem a good fellow, for a bird blown off course.

"People say the same of me. It is true, in my case, I think."

He tilts his head.

"I am made for travel, I think. Staying still makes me itch. It is a thing to be borne."

He smiles, slightly.

"Gods are very cruel, at times. It is why I plague them, I think. Some of them."

There are many of them here. You can do lots of ... plague-ing. They wear many faces, as you do.

*she bows slightly.*

My lord raven, good night. May you stop itching soon.

*And she takes off one of the garnet and silver chains, and drapes it over one of the buttons of his coat.*

Here is a shining thing, to make your eyes gleam.

Raven beams brightly.

"I thank you very much for the gift, Kassandra."

He runs one finger along the chain.

"I shall seek out the plague-able ones here, I think. They make funny faces."

There is a pause.

"Go well, then. And enjoy your wings."

Fingers touching a hip and the sound of a man's laugh.

"A good night for spirits to walk, hm?"

The fingers disappear, or were never there.

"Save a last dance?"

Gone.

*Kassandra turns, wildly, confused.

But reassured, too.

She smiles, with a rustle of her red wings.*

A smell of old oak lingers, like a promise --

I have others to see to tonight, but soon I will come back to see you properly.

*This time, her hand rises, trying to fit to a shoulder that is not there.*

An oak leaf drifts across the bar, however, and soon a shimmering figure seats himself beside her, easily.

"I like this side better, don't you?" asks Sirius Black, in a conversational tone, but his smile is one of the cat that ate the canary.

*She looks confused again. It takes a long time to remember.*

Wh-what are you doing here?
You will go again. You are not here.
You will go from me again, and sleep. You smile because you are only dreaming.

"But it's such a good dream, Kassandra," he says, still smiling. "I'm enjoying it."

He touches her; he doesn't look real, but his fingers on her cheek feel real.

"Isn't one night enough? Besides..."

A sip of the beer at his elbow.

"Someday you'll come again, and sleep by my side. I can be patient. And meanwhile the world is full of smells and tastes, sounds, sights for you..."

*She kisses his fingertips.*

And I love the world. I love it here. You have given me that.
I cannot go with you, not yet.
But do not forget me, when this night is done, when you sleep again.

I remembered you.

"I would never forget you," he says softly, still smiling. "And I know you love the world. Enjoy it. Read books for me, drink for me -- love the world for both of us, all right?"

He kisses her.

"I should go -- ere the cock crows, don't you know."

Yes.

*Maybe she sheds a tear; maybe it is only the garnets and silver. She ruffles his hair lightly, as one might tease the ears of a dog.*

I love you. I will not look for you again, but when I am happy, when the world pleases me, I will remember you.

"Well done, my Skandra."

He is still smiling as he fades; he may look upward, but it is a cheerful look.

"Goodbye..."

Xander never forgets a face.

Well, okay, he does. But he's not about to forget this face.

"Hey! You're the chick!"

The one responsible for a certain bizarre kissing episode. Yeah.

*She waves, coquettishly.*

Hello! You are a pretty maiden indeed. They say Herakles went among the women to avoid trouble. Are you hiding from trouble this night?

"Um."

Pause.

"Actually, this getup's gotten me into way more trouble than it's gotten me out of. But I did get bonding time with the local transvestite supervillain crowd."

*She pats him gently on the head. She can't kiss him, not now, not tonight, with such ghosts as she has seen. But he makes her smile, this odd one.*

May you walk happily in the Halls of Wean, Xandros.

Xander eyes her.

"... Thanks."

Pause.

"And, uh, it's Xander, actually, um ...?"