The Bar at the End of the Universe

Hey look, it's Pyrrha and Egil.

He's a toddler dressed as a butterfly--a blue morpho, brownish on the front and vivid blue on the back, with wings he can move (and is doing so, quite happily). He's even got sparkly blue nail polish on, just like his father favorite big-fox. He likes color.

In contrast, Pyrrha's dressed as a malevolent tree, a narrow and closely-fitted dress in black and dark greys, skirt hobble-width until it flares out below the knee to be the roots. It's been a while since she's had the opportunity to break out the eight-inch platforms and the big goth hair--it makes her proportions more cartoony, considering how tall and angular she is to begin with. It's a costume very well suited to standing around in dramatic, contorted tree poses, but she's not just standing around right now: Teja's going to be meeting up with them, and they've got things to keep an eye on.

She stops to check on the gifts under the tree, and then to put a coin into the jukebox, at which point Egil, excited, darts away, pretending he can fly. "Slow down, puppy," she calls, doing her best to hurry after him--she may be fast, but it's hard keeping up with a toddler when you can only walk below the knee. Feel free to intercept him.

[ooc: going insta-slow on account of a nasty headache from my winter_arrows costume, but will be back bright and early in the morning!]

This is how little Egil Skaðason finishes his big day--with his father step-grandmother, over by the observation window. He's trying his hardest to stay awake, but he is so relaxed and it has been such a big day that it's a losing battle.

It doesn't help that Loki's singing to him, either, the same song he always uses to lull him to sleep. Really, it's a wonder that Egil's stayed awake this long.

What do you give a child, when you know you won't be around to see him grow up? You give him whatever you think might help him along his path, and trust that when he's older he'll cast off whatever might weigh him down. But mostly, you give him your time.

Which is where they are now.

Botherable. This quiet little moment isn't a private one.

There's some chariot action going on today, along the trails in the forest. See, when one side of you is a brilliant charioteer, and another side of you is a talented carpenter, and you proper happen to be married to someone who owns two horses (well, three now, but one's a foal) why the hell not? So there he is.

It annoys him that they'll only respond to commands in proto-Norse. They won't answer to Greek or Latin, so there goes staying in character as the Roman; and when he addresses them in their own language, they just laugh and refuse to pull him anywhere. He's got legs of his own, hasn't he? So proto-Norse it is.

He'd tried to get them off the ground with the chariot, but they are too stupid to fly. The thing about it is, to his people the sky is just another body of water, hence the bridge. What the horses do isn't flying, it's actually swimming--but Hrimfaxa's a mean girl and Grani's a dumb jock, so there's no chance of them listening to him. If this were some '80s high school movie, it would end very differently, but this here and now is just a bit of practice.

Not moving too quickly, since this isn't the best terrain for it. A little cranky because now he's got the Mr. Ed song stuck in his head. But botherable.

[it doesn't grow overnight, you know.]

That's not some lazy attempt at reviving the Davy Crockett coonskin-cap fad, right there. No, it's just Egil getting a little camouflage practice in (not very successfully, to be honest, but he's trying). Which explains Loki's pageant-queen posture today instead of his usual slouch, as he loiters outside his latest project.

There's a temporary partition set up around a table, a partition covered in lurid sideshow-style artwork proclaiming Secrets of the Universe REVEALED.

It's free, so you can't get less than you paid for. You might even get more.

Hey look, it's a Pyrrha-shaped Loki over behind the bar [in ridiculous platform boots, fishnets, tiny shorts, military-style jacket covered in various kinds of candy (including sugar-skull epaulettes), and big hair that has accumulated a few long black feathers, as if she needed anything to make her seem even taller]. She's taking a break from hanging around in her tattoo studio to hang around here instead, but you can certainly talk to her about getting work done.

Specials
Italian sodas

Friends of Teja drink free

That's not code, unlike her own friends Dorothy and Bill W., but maybe it should be. She contemplates its potential meaning, as she leans against the bar.

[open forever]

Long story short, while Loki may be immune to sickness (a matter of professional courtesy, just as his daughter is fireproof), the other denizens of his room--infant, mutant and reanimated vegetative corpse--may not have the best immune systems, so the room is under medical lockdown. No one with a fleshbody enters or leaves. But he's in a good mood, with his recent... breakthrough, let's say, where Weyland's concerned; so why shouldn't he get to have a night off?

So it's the return of the surprisingly blond Syrian-Roman (nineteen, good-natured, dressed in his charioteer leathers and a gold collar to hide his other scar); he's setting up a proper feast along the bar, all free, because that's what hosts do. Let no man say the emperor lacks generosity.

Nothing on the specials board. Ask and it's yours.