milliways_bar | (no subject)

What's that fruit?

*Meg has never, in fact, seen a pomegranate.*

*He turns to Meg, smiling slightly. He turns the fruit over in his hands.*

Good evening, Meg. It is good to see you again.

*He has not, after all, seen Meg since he heard she died.*

It is a pomegranate.

- oh, one of those ones they grow in Hell, *Meg says, wisely.

There are Operas written about Persephone, after all; they just don't necessarily have terribly accurate props.*

Salut, Yrael - how've you been?

I have been very well, thank you. And you?

*he eyes the pomegranate* I would not know about Hell, but Bar gave me one when I asked her to surprise me. Once I figure out how to eat it, would you care to share it with me?

Oh, pas mal, *Meg says, lightly, with a quick rueful glance at the cast on her arm, and then grins at him.*

Sure - I've made a resolution to try as many new foods as I can since I died - and, you know, it's not like the symbolism matters so much, at this point.

*She cocks her head.* You do know the story, right?

*He smiles and tilts his head.* Woe is me, for I am uneducated. Please, teach. I do not know the story to which you refer.

Oh, it's very famous, *Meg says, solemnly, and settles down for a stint of storytelling.*

It's about the Greek gods - you know, they were all incestuous, and Zeus and Demeter were the king god and the goddess of grain and they were siblings, and they had a kid together, Persephone, so understandably she wasn't exactly the brightest star in the sky. But then it really gets creepy when her uncle, Hades, the god of the dead, develops this huge crush on her and kidnaps her away to the land of the dead -

*See Yrael, taking the oddities of gods and goddesses in stride, try to fit in a god of the Dead into his thought processes, as he comes from a world were Death is a River with nine precincts and the closest thing that could compare to a ruler of it is his big sister.*

*curious* Go on.

Eh bien.

So, Demeter, being naturally kind of attached to her daughter, gets all upset, and goes to yell at Zeus, but Zeus is kind of a deadbeat dad and he's all "well, it's not my problem," so Demeter gets really upset and decides that she's going to go on strike and there's never going to be spring again, until finally everyone is like "Zeus, just please will you get the girl back already?"

*Meg's voice goes a little quiet, involuntartily, as she talks about Demeter's grief; but as the story goes on, she picks up the pace again, with a grin.*

So Zeus says "all right, all right," and sends Hermes - he's the messenger god - to go tell Hades that he has to give Persephone back to her mother, and Hades is all grumbly but eventually he says okay.

The thing about the land of the dead, though, is that there's a rule - if you eat anything there, you have to stay there. And Persephone wasn't entirely an idiot, in spite of her kind of unfortunate parentage, so she hadn't eaten anything the whole time she was down there - but on the last day before she was due to come back up, someone gave her a pomegranate, and was like "why don't you try some?" And she was of course pretty hungry by this point, so she was like "well, some pomegranate seeds can't hurt" - so she ate six seeds.

*The threat of spring not coming back, six seeds.*

*He smiles.* She stays in the land of the Dead six months of the year, to cause winter?

You're good at this, *Meg says, with a smile.* Yep - six months of the year, she's in the land of the dead, and her mother grieves; six months of the year she's with her mother, and spring comes. Very symbolic.

*He grins.* Everything is symbolic of something else. Especially in stories.

I have always loved stories. They tell you more than the actual histories do.

Definitely, *Meg agrees.* I mean, I've never been able to really study history, never went to school or anything - but I've picked up a lot just from the stories of the operas we do, I think.

*Yrael smiles, looking thoughtfully out across the bar room.* I have ever been curious about the stories others have, from their own worlds. It has been in me for some time to want a night of storytelling, where everyone can participate and listen to stories of other worlds.

It sounds good to me, *Meg says, and then grins, a little wryly.*

- 'course, not everyone wants to tell their own story.

*He smiles.* But that is just it. They would not have to tell their own stories, I know I would not want to tell all of mine.

Just... stories of their worlds. Like your telling of the story of Persephone. Patrons telling stories that have shaped their worlds.

[OOC: Ack, missed this, sorry! *sheepish*]

People have tried to collect them before, *Meg says, a little thoughtfully.* Stories from other worlds - I dunno how successful they were -

I do not wish to collect them, just to hear them. The inflections, the facial expressions of the storyteller. They are all important. I want those just as much as the words themselves.

I've never been a huge reader, *Meg admits,* so I'm not going to disagree -

Though of course I think the Opera's a great way to tell stories, just 'cause you get more with it, you know? The music and the dancing too can say more than just words -

*Yrael smiles.* Stories can be told so many different ways. Opera, plays, dances, song, bardic storytelling, simply speaking the story.

I want to hear them. Learn them.

*Meg grins at him.*

- well, if there's more you want to hear, I know loads. Can't exactly put on a full Opera here, but -

*He smiles.* I would like that very much, Meg.

Svava does not have much ideas about pomegranites either (though her mun has two whole trees of them!), but she has a copy of the Say True, and she is approaching with a bemused/shocked expression on her face.

"Yrael?"

*Yrael's mun has one right now, and is almost finished with it. Woe.*

*Yrael looks up from looking thoughtfully at the pomegranate, his smile filled with bemusement.*

Svava?

"People Are Strange." She confirs, as if explaining the secrets of the universe. Svava sits down next to him and spreads out the Say True (http://www.livejournal.com/community/ways_say_true/2339.html) on the bar.

"Very strange." She is blushing as well.

*You don't see Yrael saying what he put on the poll, do you?*

*He grins.* People are always strange. That is what makes this Milliways.

Of course. *curious* The fruit here is also strange. How does one eat this?

Svava blinks, and eyes the pomegranite. "I've no idea. Do you open it somehow, like an orange?" She has had that by now, at Milliways.

"I- I asked them to ask something in the paper, but what everyone answered, I... " Svava blushes.

*He raises his eyebrows.* What did you ask them to ask?

"Archie doesn't believe me when I say he's handsome." Svava rolls her eyes goodnaturedly.

"So I asked Lilly to ask other people through the newspaper what they thought. They all mostly agreed with me, but one of the other questions-"

*lightly* One of the other questions?

*Yrael, you're being evil again.*

Svava eyes Yrael, then points to the poll (http://www.livejournal.com/poll/?id=596977&mode=results).

"At least I don't have to worry about someone trying to steal him?"

*Yrael smiles.* You do not have to worry about him being stolen, but you both must worry about being seduced.

Svava facepalms, blushing.

"..... at the same time?"

This is Milliways. There might very well be some quite talented people here.

Svava looks up at Yrael with a rather incredulous expression.

"..... I don't know if I want to know."

*thoughtfully*

I do not think I want to, so I shall not.

*grinning* Would you like a drink instead of knowing what you don't know whether you want to know or not?

"A drink would be lovely." Svava nods.

"Aside from odd foods, how have you been, Yrael?"

*Yrael grins.*

Oh, I have been quite well. I have met some very interesting people lately...

*The two friends turn to order their drinks from Bar, chatting idly into the night.*