milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Miserable Welsh princess still inna main bar. She has, however, managed to move from the bar itself to a couch. Stairs, on the other hand, are out of the question.

She's either very hungover, or still drunk. Cywyllog doesn't really know, but she's not freezing anymore, so that's progress. Bother at will.

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Montparnasse has gotten fed up with sitting in his booth at some point and has taken to pacing. Why is he doing that here instead of hin his room? Because it is easier to be proactive in his plan when there are people around to corrupt.

And really, shouldn't Cywyllog be at the top of that list?
"Madame?" He kneels in front of the couch to better look at her. It seems being forced to discuss his own issues has helped on some level.

She blinks at him and there might even be the tiniest bit of a smile.

"Good morning. It is morning, yes?"

"I- " He shakes his head and laughs weakly. Doing anything other than laughing right now, would be far worse. "I only just woke up, myself. I cannot say for certain."

"You smell like alcohol."
No the better time to get started.

"No. -Someone else." He mutters almost immediately, shaking his head again.

She blinks again. She's having a little trouble following all that and he's confusing enough on the best of days.

"I drank wine." Because the alcohol part, she does understand.

He wrinkles is nose in mild disgust, because it rarely smells good on anyone else, and because he remembers the drink from last night.

"Was there some reason, besides holiday celebration?" Yes, he is that naive, or at least self centered enough not to notice other peoples angst when he's got his own.

"Yule was days ago. I just felt like it." She sits up slowly and shrugs. "No special reason."

"How much have you had, for no special reason?" He asks bemusedly.

"An entire cask, from the smell and look of things." He may be exaggerating, yes.
But he cannot really help the senses being better now.

"Just a bottle. I fell asleep down here." Another shrug and then she frowns, remembering her conversation with the strange woman.

"I should have stayed outside."

"Outside? Non, it is cold out there." He frowns as well. "You should have stayed in your room, perhaps."

"I had to come down here to get the bottle." That should be obvious.

"And yes, it was very cold. There was a storm, too. I think I left my cloak where I was sitting on it." She sighs. "I will have to go get it later."

"And you did not return to your room with the bottle, or after you came back inside." He shrugs. "This is the matter I do not understand, but very well, I would not care to get drunk alone either."

He'd prefer to get drunk with Satan, clearly.

"I wanted to go outside." She doesn't understand what is so diffult about that to comprehend. "And I get drunk alone quite often."

Why do you care? Why not at least make an attempt? Only a month after all.

He stands again and turns away, because he can't, wont bring himself to consider it until he must.

"Then perhaps that is a problem you should deal with. It is not wise."

"Why? It is not like I have anything better to do and it is a bar after all." She slumps a little in her seat.

"Because there is no one to protect you, if it leads you to foolish choices."
And as if to prove that point, he walks away.

May not be able to protect her, but if he avoids her, he wont be the one to break her.

She snorts softly and watches him go.

"There is nothing I need protection from."

A rather distractyed looking Magius wanders by and lays a small package on the table next to her couch.

"Merry Christmas, Lady Cywyllog."

She stares at the package for a moment, then looks up at him.

"What is it?"

he smiles.

"It is a Christmas present. And it is traditional for the person it is given to to find out what it is by opening it."

The package contains herbs and spices from her native world and country, as well as a candle infused with some of them. The final piece is a simply wrought rose of iron, a brooch, the kind of gift that courtiers of a certain station mioght give to someone of a higher station.

She sits up and takes the package, unwrapping it carefully. She smiles when she sees what's inside, turning the brooch in particular over in her hands.

"It is very beautiful. Why would you give this to me?"

He smiles.

"I am new to this place and have met many here, but there are few who are from similar cultures as I. Even with the lack of overt magic in yours, your time and space is close to my own, so I wanted to show you are appreciated. One of those I know here told me of his holiday and so I decicded that this was a good way to express it."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I will try to put them to good use."

She smiles again, apologetcially. "I do not have anything to offer in return."

He smiles back, and bows his head.

"As it was explained to me, there needs not be an exchange. It is merely the joy one gains in giving. Such things are good, I think. I like this holiday."

"I am not very familiar with this holiday, but if that is the way of things..." She still looks and feels guilty. "Thank you again."

He smiles.

"Bar has several books on it, if you are curious. I hope that your day is filled with a sense of peace, Milady. By your leave."

He bows his head and prepares to go.

"Thank you, and the same to you." She smiles one last time, and then returns to studying her gifts.

He heads off towards the stairs, pondering his list, small as it is.

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