test drive / milliways

[gods_that_haunt_me]

A tall, lanky man, seemingly made up entirely of long lines and angles, wanders into the bar through the back door.

He's been out all day, exploring the forest. Listening to the trees.

(They were quite talkative.)

The waitrats scatter as he crosses the room. They probably don't like the hatchet tucked into his belt. Or the knife. Or the sword.

He snickers at their fright. He's harmless! Really!

(No, he isn't.)

"Lady Bar, a cup of mead, if you please," he says in Old Norse. A horn cup appears, and he takes a swig.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Someone doesn't think he's harmless. Someone doesn't like him being here at all.

Athelstan is in a corner, hoping Floki won't notice him.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

And someone notices Alethstan. This someone always notices Althelstan.

He stalks toward him.

That could be a grin on his face. Or maybe he's just baring his teeth.

"Why do you cower so, priest?" he teases, leaning in over Athelstan so that the hiss of his breath wafts against his ear.

"Is this not a place where you feel safe?"

[athelstanthescribe]

He glowers up at Floki, refusing to move even when Floki invades his space, because he's as much angry as afraid now, the spark of hatred that's always been there but buried for Ragnar's sake making itself felt.

"It used to be."

[gods_that_haunt_me]

He tilts his head and pouts.

"Ah, you wound me, little monk."

And suddenly he is leaning in again, both hands on the table.

"You think I would go out of my way to harm you?"

There's a laugh just beneath the surface of his voice.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Hardly." Athelstan meets Floki's stare, but can't maintain it for long. "But if you didn't have to go out of your way..."

He knows Floki wouldn't do anything to really anger Ragnar. But there's harm and harm.

[ostro_goth]

"They have good wine, also."

That comments comes from a tall man in black, armed similarly (but his is a short sahs sword, and a long-handled, two-bladed axe) who is sitting at a table nearby, with some stacks of paper, and writing utensils.

His linen clothes would be right at home in Floki's time, but the long Tyrian purple cloak of Southern origin might invite comment -- or envy.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

Floki's black-rimmed eyes take in the Goth with great interest. Especially the weaponry.

The stacks of paper, though? The last time Floki saw that much paper, he set some on fire and burned a monastary down with it.

"Better than the piss the Christians use in their ceremonies?"

[ostro_goth]

"Much better," the Goth says, with a hint of amusement flitting over his stern face. "Good wine made by the ancient heathens of the south, or good wine from the future. Ale, also, from all lands and times, and far beyond."

[gods_that_haunt_me]

"One day I shall have to take advantage of this bounty so easily made available to us."

He raises his cup to him in thanks for the recommendations.

"You will know this has happened when you must pick me up off the floor to keep other patrons from tripping over me."

And he takes another swig.

[witchfinder_general]

There is a tall, middle-aged man wearing black by the bar as well, ordering something called 'tea'.

He's wearing a shirt with a small symbol incorporating a cross on it under his warm black coat, and turns his head to give Floki and his weapons a look, as if taking stock.


[[OOC: Just test-driving him with Ragnar seemed too simple; so I'm sending him my two charries most likely for him to like, and to hate, respectively. Hope that works!]]

[gods_that_haunt_me]

The herbal scent of the man's drink is vaguely familiar, yet not. The clothes are entirely unfamiliar, but many things are, here.

If the man intends on scrutinizing him, then Floki will scrutinize him back.

"Am I imagining things, or does something about me displease you as much as something about you displeases me?"


[OOC: And yes, that's perfect! Thank you!]

[witchfinder_general]

"I don't know how much anything about me displeases you," the man says, picking up his mug. "But I try not to be displeased by anybody who doesn't drink people's blood. We are all just people."

[gods_that_haunt_me]

He narrows his eyes at the man.

"Drinking people's blood? What are you on about?"

[starrydome]

Others here might have been out listening to the trees.

He is very tall. His hair is very long.
His eyes are bright, lit with the light of stars.

His ears are gently leaf-shaped. And his clothes are made of wool and linen, adorned with tiny stitches, outlining plants and stars.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

They say elves do exist, and men have lost the ability to see them.

Well, Floki sees an elf right now.

He is much taller than expected!

But the beauty of the gods is in him, and Floki cannot help but stare.

[starrydome]

Elrond is going through an inventory list, his pen scratching against the paper whenever he makes a correction.

He knows he is being watched.

This is not unusual. It happens here; it happens at home.

After a while, he does look up though and gives the Man a small, polite smile.
As often happens here, his looks are a little familiar, but mostly not.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

The smile startles him, and he ducks his head in a nod.

The elf appears to be of true nobility, perhaps even a king in his world, so fine are his clothes and so regal his bearing. But there is something warm about him, and friendly, and not at all overbearing, even to obviously simple folk like Floki.

"Are you elf-kind?" he asks, his black-rimmed eyes wide.

Just to be sure.

[like_quicksilver]

By now Gyda knew this place wasn't Valhalla or Hel's Hall, but it was easier to think of this place as such. She did remember dying from the fever, recalled seeing a doorway and opening it, of finding Milliways instead.

She sat by the fire, working on weaving a bracelet with colorful yarn, more colorful than anything she's seen back home. There's a book before her showing her how. Some of the words are stranger, but there are pictures and those are easy to follow.

Only when she hears a familiar voice does she look up, her eyes wide and a smile appearing when she sees a familiar person. Floki was strange and unpredictable, but she was fascinated by him and he told wonderful stories.

"Floki!" She waved at him, unware that he may or may've not just heard of her death through his own door.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

As far as Floki knows, the girl is alive. Bad news travels slowly, however swift the messenger.

"Gyda!" he chirps, a grin deepening the laugh lines on his face, as he crosses the room to join her by the fire.

"What a surprise that one of your doors has brought you here. What are you up to?"

Floki likes Ragnar's children. It is already plain to see that they carry the best of both Ragnar and Lagertha within them.

[like_quicksilver]

She shows him, a half finished bracelet made of blue, green, and pink yarn. "They have books that show you how to make things, most of them have pictures."

She knew of libraries from Athelstan, but even the one in milliways was larger then the one in England. Even better, there weren't all stories from the christian god.

Her smile vanished when he mentioned doors, looking to where hers might have been. "I don't have any doors here."

There was no way to go back, because she couldn't go back.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

Floki leans in and runs a callused fingertip along the strip of tightly braided yarn.

"It is lovely work, Gyda. If you make more, I'm sure that Helga would like to have one."

The book gets a curious look, with its pictures and strange lettering. Having books show you how to do things instead of another person teaching you is still a strange concept to him. But Gyda is a clever girl, and he admires her initiative to learn.

However, what she says next is rather disturbing.

He glances toward his own door. And then back to her.

"What do you mean? You don't see the door back home? Back to your father's hall, perhaps?"

[my_brothers_shadow]

At some point after Floki has had time to settle, Rollo comes in the front door shaking snow off his shoulders. He seems thoughtful as he makes his way to the fire to warm himself.

[gods_that_haunt_me]

Floki stands hunched over the bar, taking intermittent swigs of mead until he notices the large, hulking form of Ragnar's brother come through the door. The man seems to not notice the shipbuilder as he crosses the room toward the fireplace. Floki eyes him for a moment over his shoulder, before finishing his drink.

He then orders two cups, and approaches Rollo at his side.

"Do not become so lost in thought that you can't make your way back to a cup of ale."

He offers him one of the cups.

[my_brothers_shadow]

[OOC: And it would have been rain he knocked off his shoulders, not snow.]

Rollo doesn't start...not at all. Really.

"That would a sorry fate indeed." He says, accepting the cup and taking a gulp. "I thank you for saving me."

[gods_that_haunt_me]

Floki smirks, the blackened lines around his eyes deepening.

"I only lured you back to where you ought to be."

He crouches down near the fireplace, watching the flames, and the fish that seem to dance within them.

"What has you so pensive?" he asks without looking at him.