milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Great Lord of the Dark in the bar.

Smiling slightly as if he knows something you don't know. ~~Which is probably true.~~

Do come by and say hello.

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"A description someone gave me once," she replies, a little vaguely.

"So perhaps not very familiar at all. I'm the only person with red hair that I know, after all."

He shrugs, not concerned. "Probably not me, then. I haven't been around all that much, until lately."

"Red is the best of hair colors, I feel." He smiles. "Mine isn't really red, but brownish red, I think." He runs his hand back through his hair, amusedly.

"Yours, on the other hand, is quite a lovely color."

"I suppose not."

And she smiles.

"You know, it's terribly comforting to know that there are times and places where people like red hair. It's quite out of fashion where I'm from, I'm afraid. And I am sorry for staring. It can be dreadfully disconcerting."

He laughs warmly. "Ah, do not worry about whether your hair is of the current fashion, miss. Trends in fashion change like the seasons."

"That's certainly true," she says, ruefully.

"More's the pity. I suppose people simply can't make up their minds, can they?"

He shakes his head, grinning wryly. "I doubt they ever shall."

She nods, and looks at him curiously, her eyes moving to the scar on his cheek. Politely, she says nothing about it.

"Your accent," she says. "It's British, isn't it?"

He notices her glance at his scar, and moves his head slightly as he answers, so that his left cheek is out of her view.

"It is indeed, miss. And yours is..." He smiles, thinking. "Canadian. I have not spoken with a Canadian for a long time."

She glances back up to meet his eyes, surprised and pleased. "Why, yes! Prince Edward Island, as a matter of fact. You're the first to have guessed that."

He chuckles. "Lucky guess, really."

"What brings you to the end of the universe from Prince Edward Island, if you don't mind me asking?"

A wry smile.

"Usually, the door to the living room. Aside from that, well--I have friends here. And now that I can go back and forth, it's nice to to be able to sit here with some tea, and talk with friends, or meet new people."

A nod to him, and a small smile.

"Like yourself."

He smiles in return, warmly.

"Sounds lovely. Myself, I am bound here. The door to my world is closed to me."

"Oh, dear, that's terrible!"

Gray eyes fill with concern.

"I'm so very sorry to hear that. You must miss your home very much."

He winces, as if the topic of home was one he'd rather not think on, as it is painful.

"I haven't seen my home for over a year now. And in that time I've only been out of the bar once, for a day in London of a different version of Earth."

Anne is aghast.

"Over a year! But that's horrible! I'm so terribly sorry to hear it."

He shifts, seemingly uncomfortable and a bit unhappy at having his confinement brought up, but he gives a weak smile.

"It gets a bit... confining, after a while. Stuck in one place."

"I know it does," she says, gently, and sympathetically.

"That one day I had away from here was..." He shakes his head slightly. "...it was like finally being able to breathe again."

Anne's own breath catches slightly, remembering her joy at being home after being trapped for so long, and she nods, looking at the door.

"Yes," she says, softly. "Yes, I do understand that."

But it is getting late, and so she rises from her seat, and gather the papers in front of her.

"I'm very sorry," she tells him, with a small smile, "but I'm afraid I'm about done for the evening. It was lovely meeting you, Mr...?"

"It was a pleasure, indeed." He returns the smile. "Call me Aphelise, miss...?"

"Anne Shirley," she says.

"Have a lovely evening, Mr. Aphelise."

A smile, and she gathers her papers, and is gone.

"And you, Miss Shirley."

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