Caritas, Friday Evening

[built_fjord_tough]

Fjord stepped behind the bar today, looking... not cranky. Exasperated.

He was exasperated.

There had been an... incident... earlier... that had resulted in a bit of a shock. Because sudden magically-appearing tree boughs covered in electric lights didn't mix well with saltwater.

He wasn't talking about it.

He was starting his shift here tonight with a shot of whiskey, though. Just the one. Why couldn't Fandom have a nice, normal winter holiday, like Winter's Crest, anyway?

[OOC: Open! And that is it for my Friday spam, I swear it.]

Comments

[1000yearstoolate]

Seivarden entered Caritas early, ending up leaning against the bar opposite Fjord.

"Have you noticed anything weird going on today?" she asked. "Or is this thing over? I thought it'd last until that holiday."

She made a gesture with her hand.

"Never mind. I'll have a whisky."

And for now ignore Wednesday.

[built_fjord_tough]

Fortunately, Fjord already had the whiskey on hand. He poured a glass for Seivarden, slid it across the bar toward her, and then shrugged.

"There's some strangeness going on," he replied, "but nothing that would affect you. Best to not worry about it."

No. Really. He didn't want to talk about it.

[1000yearstoolate]

"I'm not going to complain about it not affecting me," Seivarden said, watching Fjord's hands as he poured the drink, the corner of her mouth twitching a little. "What's going on?"

[built_fjord_tough]

"Weapons turning into branches," Fjord explained, reaching for his own glass. "With lights on them. But not until you actually use them."

It was like a trap. An especially inconvenient trap when your weapon of choice had a tendency to splash water around.

[1000yearstoolate]

"Oh. Well, at least it will be over by tomorrow."

Seivarden sipped her drink.

"But I suppose it must be annoying if you like swords."

This was Seivarden being understanding.

[built_fjord_tough]

"Between this and the peppermint candy, it's been a bad run for swordsmen," Fjord agreed, shaking his head a little and then taking a mouthful of his whiskey. "But you're right, at least it'll be over by tomorrow."

He could hardly wait to see what the island would shove at them then.

[1000yearstoolate]

"At least no one is going to eat your sword today," Seivarden pointed out.

"The drinks those bears handed out yesterday was terrible," she continued.

[built_fjord_tough]

"I would be concerned if anybody out there were to try to eat my sword," Fjord replied.

Someday he would eat those words.

And his sword.

"And I didn't much care for those drinks myself. Too sweet. But they do mix with alcohol well enough."

[1000yearstoolate]

"They do," Seivarden agreed. "So, anything else interesting happening?"

She sipped her drink, looking at Fjord over the rim of her glass.

[built_fjord_tough]

"Not particularly," Fjord admitted. "Still stuck here, still no idea how to get home. I'm almost curious enough about this world to start visiting the mainland to kill time, but they have to be short trips when I do. I, ah, stand out a little."

A tiny bit.

[special_rabbit]

"'Evening, Fjord," said Amaya, as she took a spot at the bar and nodded with her greeting, all done with a marked stiffness rather uncharacteristic of her usual demeanor. In fact, there was a cold fire simmering in those bright blue eyes of hers, volatile, ready to burst, a good match for the particular set of her firm jaw.

Amaya looked, quite frankly, absolutely fit to be tied and like she had an awful lot going on in that head of hers that needed to be washed away with a good strong drink or two.

[built_fjord_tough]

"Evening, Amaya," Fjord greeted, taking a moment to make note of that stiffness, to frown a little thoughtfully, and then venture, "rough day?"

He could guess.

[1000yearstoolate]

Seivarden took this as an excuse to look closer at Fjord. "Yes, I can understand that. If it's any consolation you're not missing much. People are really rude."

[built_fjord_tough]

Yeah, Fjord saw you there taking an excuse to ogle, Seivarden.

He was choosing to ignore it. Everything was easier if you ignored it.

"It doesn't help that most of what's over there is still so strange to me," he admitted. "You know there's a minimum age over there for drinking alcohol? Beau and I didn't."

And while Fjord was in his thirties and hadn't really had a problem - particularly not with his disguise up - Beau was still on the young side.

[1000yearstoolate]

Sorry Fjord, that was just another reason for Seivarden to keep looking at you.

"What is the minimum age?"

She assumed she was well past it, even if she looked younger than she actually was, by Earth standards. Sparkle hadn't had a problem either.

[built_fjord_tough]

"Twenty-one," Fjord replied, shaking his head a little. "Seems absurd to me. Do they really believe people can't make responsible decisions until that age?"

[1000yearstoolate]

"How many people above twenty-one make responsible decisions most of the time?"

She wasn't so deluded that she thought she always did.

"You must be older than that though?"

This conclusion demanded some further looking, of course.

[special_rabbit]

And that, it would seem, was all she needed to go off.

"Three times!" she exploded, throwing her useless hands up. "Three times in the last month! I know this place gets it into its head to be all quirky and cute, 'specially this time of year, but is it really too much to ask for it to just leave the weapons alone? Now, I know it'll go back to normal tomorrow, or at least it had better, but you tell me, how am I going to get a whole day's worth of work back? Or more, actually, because that's two days now this month, and a whole weekend in November, so as far as I'm concerned, this island owes me nearly a week's worth of my hard-earned time."

Yes, Amaya had problems when it came to feelings. Unless, apparently, that feeling was indignation.

"I mean, just look at this."

And that would be Amaya's beloved and well-worn hammer thunking down on the bar, because of course she brought it with her, and she narrowed her eyes at it with a sneer before nodding to Fjord.

"Go on, pick it up. Try to strike something with it."

But she knew very well how that would end up, as it had all day, with the end of it turning into a tree branch all decked out in pretty twinkling lights, she just forged forward, because once the gate was open, it was hard to push it back into place. "And that's not even a weapon, it's a tool. I mean, sure, I know the exact amount of force needed and the precise place to hit on a kneecap or a skull to make it work for me if I need to, but does intention mean nothing around this place? What about context? Why, by this logic, these," and she held up her fists, tightly balled, "should turn into branches right now, but they're not, and it makes no sense," because she hadn't quite figured that the logic of the island tended to run very closely to whatever was more amusing than anything else in these matters, "and that's the kind of nonsense I can't stand for, Fjord, the kind that effects me and my business."

At least the mistletoe could be taken care of. She'd yet to figure out a solution to a Christmas tree hammer, not one that wasn't just time, and who had patience for that, anyway?

[built_fjord_tough]

"By over a decade," Fjord confirmed, continuing his steadfast ignoring because so help him, it wasn't happening. Nope. "I can get into the bars just fine on my own."

Especially if the disguise he wore looked a little older still. Easily solved.

[built_fjord_tough]

Fjord already knew what was coming. After all, there had been the whole pact weapon incident. But he reached for the hammer and gave it a thump against the counter anyway, the branches smacking down against the bar, will-lit.

He sighed.

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to help you make up for the lost time?" He handed the hammer back to her as it shifted back to being a hammer in his hand. "There does seem to have been a lot of trouble affecting your work in particular, lately."

[1000yearstoolate]

"But your company couldn't?" Seivarden said, taking a sip of her whisky.

[built_fjord_tough]

"Beau's younger. Approaching twenty, maybe? Might even be over the age, I didn't actually ask," Fjord admitted. "Either way, without the proper identification, there was no getting her into that bar."

[mages_suck]

"First," Fenris growled as he walked through the door, "it becomes a stick of candy. Now, it's become a lighted tree branch."

The sword on his back looked nothing like a lighted tree branch. It was sitting innocently in its sheath, looking like a large sword at the moment.

"What is going on and why must it mess with my weapon?!" he continued, plunking his skinny elf ass down on one of the bar stools. "If ever I needed a beer.."

[built_fjord_tough]

Fjord was already reaching for a beer, passing it over to him with a slightly sore hand.

"I understand," he replied, not without sympathy. "Believe me."

The holiday cheer had gotten into his weapon again and he hated it.

[1000yearstoolate]

"I didn't have a problem, you shouldn't have either We should go drinking sometime."

She accompanied this suggestion with a charming smile, mostly curious to see the reaction.