[ AW ] mummified teenage dreams

meph

@"anyone"

If there was one thing Dionysus knew, it was how to drink. And how to serve a drink, but it was a needless point when the newbie came in to take over the tavern's serving needs. It was a rare evening when he got off before the sun completely disappeared from the sky, when the Moon Goddess' reign took hold. And unluckily, it was his sixth birthday, which meant he was officially getting older. Older than he thought he'd ever make it, especially working in a bar that normally served good for nothing scoundrels.

Normally, he'd sit with a group of degenerates and have a good time making the caverns shake with laughter and maybe a good scuffle or two. But tonight, he sat in his own spot near the edge of the bar. The gourd that sat in front of him was almost empty, fermented berry juice swirling at the bottom. It hadn't been his first and would definitely not be his last. "Oi, barkeep," he chuffed, nodding his head to the gourd but with a smirk sewn onto the edges of his lips, "Care to refill me?" Toss in a wink and he was golden. He knew each of the workers considering he'd been there since he turned the ripe age of two years old. It was hard to believe he'd been here four years. The days kept ticking by as well, though he wasn't counting. There was no reason to. And for even thinking about it, he downed the last of the liquor in his current possession.

SINNER ON THE SOLSTICE

Civilization was a long-forgotten dream, a memory at the hazy edges of Yvaine’s youth. But it was questionable whether or not the Drunken Seagall qualified as civilization. The banduri allowed an amused smile to grace her slender features, moon-silver eyes scanning the crowd with intrigue. Raucous laughter erupted from one end of the bar, while barks and snarls initiated a rowdy brawl on the other. The energy was different, however, from the celebration up on Tir Na Nog. Prince Jacob’s bonfire was rife with revelry but this... The Drunken Seagall teemed with nihilism and ignorance, a distant involvement in the world around them. A bar was the perfect place to lay plans and lay down. Yvaine wondered what kind of information she would glean about the nation’s politics from a single night in this place.


Navigating the precarious path outside was easy enough. Inside was, the sorceress would admit, a bit more challenging. But there was an aura of purpose to her as she strode through the cave. Every movement was lithe and precise. On her way to the bar, she stopped just in time for two young males to roll in front of her, fighting, then stumble out of her way. The woman’s keen smiled widened and she arrived beside the counter without so much as a speck of grime on her lustrous coat. She also arrived just in time to hear the coastal-coated male beside her place an order.


“Make that two,” she chimed, her silver eyes gleaming at the bartender before she deigned to look at her new companion. And those eyes seemed even brighter beneath the charcoal mask of her visage. “You don’t mind buying a new acquaintance a drink, right, peata?” Yvaine’s voice was husky and rich and feminine as she addressed him. He was handsome, though not large; the white stripe down his face that encompassed his muzzle made him look innocent somehow. But those eyes, the color of the ocean, could make a satisfactory companion for the moon… And he smelled like he lived in this place. She hoped he would engage in conversation.

code by claerie
@Dionysus

*Peata = pet