Character Cantina

"It's called coffee," William says sadly. "Brewed from roasted beans into a black liquid that only becomes fit for consumption when cream and sugar have been dumped into it."

"Sounds disgusting," says Borghild, "What is sugar, by the way?"

She follows her nose a bit and realizes that the coffee smell is coming from the woman with cloth on her head. "I assume she's drinking it?"

"It looks like salt, but it's sweet. It also rots your teeth."

Another glass is set in front of William and he tries it. Not quite as strong as his usual fare, but it'll do. He's in a conversation, after all.

Borghild goes through her next cup in the meantime. She's on a roll.

"So basically honey that's started to become like grains. Doesn't sound too bad."

She undoes her belt and doffs her hauberk, leaving behind a white rivetted pattern on her dirty linen. "It's starting to get hot in here."

Niloufar watches the historical reenactor shed her armor over the rim of her cappuchino.

Her dress could use some washing.

edited 4th Jul '11 3:10:33 PM by annebeeche

"It doesn't taste like honey, though. It's a bland sort of sweetness. And you're right, it's a bit warm." William gets his arms out of his sleeves so the coat is draped over his shoulders. He should be careful when cleaning his glasses, or the buttons on his shirt sleeves might scratch them.

His drinking, rather than periodic gulps, has become frequent sips. He could stay here for a while. It feels pretty safe.

He is a young man in Borghild's presence. He is not safe.

Borghild watches the young man shed his coat with hungry eyes. She rolls up her sleeves, exposing her toned, veined forearms.

She downs her cup.

I don't know what time period he's from, but it's very difficult to scratch glasses these days.

edited 4th Jul '11 3:32:54 PM by annebeeche

He's very careful because glasses are expensive where he comes from.

She's looking at him kind of funny again. His eye twitches. I don't look that weird, do I?

William sets down the empty glass. A little break from drinking wouldn't hurt.

"You should really let your hair grow instead of cutting it like a slave's," says Borghild, returning to her drink.

"Grow? It's already at my jawline. If it gets much longer than this it'll be longer than the hair of my leige and she's a girl. Not like I'm anything better than a slave, anyway, come to think of it."

After finishing his third drink as quickly as the first, Drew turns around, getting off the barstool slowly, as though he either didn't want to make a sound or is afraid of the floor. To him, it was actually a bit of both.

He'd make sure to pay them for the drinks before he left, but not now. This brought a slight problem to the forefront of his mind: Do i even have any money with me?, he thought nervously, deciding not to check where others can see, because if he didn't have money this would be bad. He was sure he had some, though, certainly enough to pay for a few drinks, possibly a room... there shouldn't be a need to worry, he decided.

With slow steps, almost in a consistent rhythm, which did make this a bit creepy, Drew took a seat across from the woman on the computer. He couldn't sit around and drink whiskey all day even if he wanted to, and she seemed like a good place to start warming up to the thought of being social. "What are you doing?", he asked her, wishing he could have thought of a better way to start a conversation, as this was asked somewhat abruptly on his part.

"Pah, you heathen men are so modest about your hair," says Borghild.

Borghild fixes her knot.

"My king is about your age, you know, and he wears his locks proudly, as any prince should. Goes down to about here." She gestures to about at the bottom of her ribs, suggesting the length of Scyld's hair.

In case it isn't obvious, Borghild uses "heathen" to describe anyone not of her culture or religion, which to us is "heathen" and can thus cause a little confusion.

Niloufar can't help but overhear the conversation between the young man and the historical reenactor, who appears to be remaining in character even though she's not with her group.

Maybe she's a method actress?

A man sits down in the chair in front of her, and asks about what she's doing.

Niloufar replies, "Oh, just stuff for work. Monetary transactions, actually. Checking on my team to see how they're doing and making sure they're doing their job."

There is a way to hide the truth without lying.

edited 4th Jul '11 3:59:54 PM by annebeeche

Drew nodded, thankful that he was actually getting somewhere with this, if even a small bit. He had practically barged up on her doing something that could have been entirely private, and yet she didn't wave him off or shut down the conversation before it could start up in earnest. "And what does your team do, exactly?" With what little he knew about her, talking about her job was just about all he could do right now. He'd strike up a conversation nonetheless, but he hoped he'd be able to break out of his shell for a bit. Although how long it would be before he had to retreat into his shell had yet to be seen, he realized. Make it last then., he told himself. Be friendly now, it wont hurt.

edited 4th Jul '11 4:04:07 PM by InfiniteParagon

Niloufar takes a draught from her cappuchino (third cup by this point), not looking up from her computer.

"It's classified information, actually."

edited 4th Jul '11 4:06:17 PM by annebeeche

"Your king is quite young, then. Does he have trouble from his vassals? Young rulers tend to have a hard time asserting their authority if there is greed all around them."

"Now," William says to the bartender, "Do you serve onion soup?"

"He's dead. I'm his only vassal left.

"As for 'trouble' from me, yes, he gets his fair share. It's his problem, though."

Borghild flaps her fingers like a mouth when she says 'trouble'.

edited 4th Jul '11 4:15:30 PM by annebeeche

Another to add to the list of great moments in awkward communication.

"Damn. What happened?"

Okay, crossed the line there., Drew thought, feeling a bit bad for prying. Still, she wasn't angry, or at least she wasn't showing it. Or maybe she was playing a trick, you could never tell. Drew doubted that was the case, though.

"I see, sorry for prying.", he told her. "I'll leave you be if you're busy, miss.", Drew added, not wanting to hold her up any longer if that was the case.

"Okay, it gets complicated here because two different things happened: Either he died as an old man, or he died of 'illness' around your age.

"You do know what a Valkyrie is, right?"

Lucky, he didn't actually suspect anything. Niloufar looks up from her laptop.

"No, actually this is quite boring and involves a lot of waiting. Besides, I haven't had a proper conversation with somebody in real life for a while."

edited 4th Jul '11 4:19:34 PM by annebeeche

Dew raises an eyebrow at her reply, unseen by the hood covering the top half of his face. "Really... You dont seem like someone that has been in that predicament.", he told her, the corners of his face becoming a slight frown. Believe me, i know..., he thought solemnly, returning his focus to the conversation before he started to seem out of it.

"They've got something to do with fate, don't they?"

This sounds like alternate universes are involved. William knows a bit too much about those than he'd like.

"Oh, well I'm kind of a shut-in, and I live alone. I don't really talk to people much.

"Unless dogs count. I have like three of them."

"Eh, close, but not quite. Basically, a Valkyrja is a woman whose job it is to take people who have died in battle to Valhǫllr, the hall of the slain. I was originally Scyld's thane, but then I died in battle myself and became a Valkyrja. Many years later, Scyld died as an old man, with which I was not happy. So I broke the rules and killed Scyld as a young man myself, and intercepted the delivery of his soul to Hel.

"That is how I am his only vassal left."

edited 4th Jul '11 4:30:26 PM by annebeeche

"I'd say dogs count, they certainly make for some company." Drew replied, shrugging. He stood corrected, apparently, but she still did better than he did. This was going better than he had hoped for, although he had set low expectations initially for a conversation to even start up.

"I see my family more than I see my friends actually," says Niloufar. "Particularly my mother."

edited 4th Jul '11 4:38:40 PM by annebeeche

"Was there time travel involved? Any alternate universes created?"

The onion soup is steaming, making his insides warm, and William has to take off the coat.

"Well, its good to keep in touch with your family." It made Drew think of his own parents. He wanted to know how they were so much, but he couldn't contact them. Too many questions would come up, ones Drew knew he couldn't answer.

"You must be very close to your mother, if you see her as often as you say.", he said, curious as to what else he'd find out about her. He wasn't aiming to know everything about her, but as long as he could stay friendly, he'd keep chatting to take advantage of it.