kawa~ inspiration #135
Feb. 9th, 2006 12:24 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Never Drink with Immortals
Authors~ Annarti and Sallie
Disclaimer~ ...Hoi. Okay. War, Pestilence, Famine and Sex are Sallie's, along with the bar they're in. Nimay, Nolryn, Melraan, Kurae, Gylepi and Anganur are Annarti's. YAY.
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration #135. 'nother one of those funky joint fic things. Pure crack X)
~ ~ ~
“Okay,” War leant over the wide of the bar without any stools, raising a dark eyebrow at his drinking buddies. He seemed a bit too rough for the elegant surroundings in jeans and a tight t-shirt – clearly the bar had been build with mahogany, gold and a lot of liquors by someone with classical taste.
“We have ground-rules here. Firstly, and this is important, so bare with me. If you see any labelless bottles,” War pointed at the nearest bottle hanging up without a label, “that belongs to Death and you can’t drink it because it will kill you and I’m not kidding. I’m talking instant death, murder on my hands again. So, none of that, okay?”
The six Own riders—even more out-of-place in the high-class bar—exchanged amused glances, but nodded anyway. It was going to take some time to get used to the fact that there were in fact stronger drinkers than Raykinian nobility.
“So what’s our first poison?” Melraan asked, eyeing the well-stocked shelves behind the bar bench. The multi-coloured glass was already vastly different from the standard reddish bottles back home.
War tapped some of the bottles on their necks, some of them were human-realm drinks, some First Realm drinks, some from any other Realm and world Death had access to getting drinks from. “Well, the Pink Elephant is primarily Nol’s, and although he may share it, it will fuck your shit up, so we’ll be saving that. I got the good Snake Bite, we could start with that, go from the feet up.”
War paused, sliding himself down the bar towards the far end, where Famine was sitting alone. “Of course, you won’t want to do that, will you?” He cooed at the fellow Force, who could almost have looked like his sister.
She gave him a long, bored look. “Get me a fucking beer.”
“Yep, I thought so.”
“Who’s he?” Anganur whispered to the prince.
“Not a he,” Nol whispered back, desperately hoping the blue-haired Force wasn’t as much of a linguist as War or Death.
“You’re joking,” the pikeman said incredulously, staring down the bar past his colleagues.
Nol shook his head. “No, look. Boobs. Anyway, that’s Famine. She reckons Raykin’s backwards.”
“Well,” Melraan interrupted, “we kind of are compared to this place.” He rapped his knuckles on the mahogany bar bench and cast his eyes over the impressive setting.
War slid a beer down the counter to his fellow Force as he switched into Raykinian dialect for extra privacy. “She doesn’t like being a she – but neither does she like being referred to as male. Stick with just ‘she’ and ‘Famine’ to talk to her, and you might just not get your jibblies lopped off.”
The purple-haired man leaned towards them confidentially, “Trust me on that. Even if they don’t come totally off, it hurts like a bitch – but on the plus side, we have a good healer here, and you’re left sterile.”
The Raykinians stared at him in horror for a moment, except Nimay, who folded her arms and raised an amused eyebrow.
“That’s the plus?” Gylepi’s voice was a good octave higher than normal, which still left it pretty deep.
Anganur shrugged. “I could take her,” he announced casually, then pointed at a random green bottle on the shelves behind War. “What’s that one?”
War couldn’t quite hold back his smirk at the other mens' shock. “Brave words there, Anganur,” War complemented, turning back to the rows of drinks.
“War,” Famine growled from her end of the bar, in English. “Language.”
“Sorry, did I forget I was in England again?” War grinned at her, before returning to looking over the drinks. He grabbed the bottle, throwing it in the air, catching it and reading the label. “That’s Claw Plach, from one of these underwater worlds. It tastes a bit… weird, but it’s a good brew if you can get over that.”
The pikeman frowned as War poured the effervescent green drink into a glass. “How in Lin’s sweet name does an underwater world have a drink? And I could still take her. With a palu, at least.”
“Down there? It’s generally ice, ‘cos they have colder temperatures, but stick it in a bottle and bring it here and it melts.” War stuck some ice-cubes in the glass of the drink that was slightly better cold.
“War!” Famine snapped from the other end of the bar.
“Hey, I have to talk to my guests, I’ll do it in their language, you don’t like it then just drink and don’t listen,” War suggested to her, before pushing the drink towards Anganur.
Famine muttered something which sounded more like a growl than any language, before snapping the top from her beer.
War shook his head, before switching back to the Raykinian vernacular. “And if you go at her with a palu, she’ll bring out her scythe… but she’s not at my standards... In fact, you're right, you could take her,” War smiled his most charming ‘I am not stirring it’ smile.
“Thank you, thank you.” Anganur took the bubbling green glass, then shrugged and took an experimental sip, well-aware that the eyes of the rest of the guys were on him. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help coughing and putting on a disgusted face.
“That strong, is it?” Gylepi mocked.
Anganur shook his head. “Well, yeah, but not alcohol.” He held the glass back and coughed again, inspecting the green liquid accusingly. “Guess it wouldn’t freeze if it had too much booze in it. I don’t know what that is.”
“Just a touch fishy, aint it? I have no idea why, you’d expect it to be more salty.” War leant on the bar and poured himself a better green-coloured drink – his fabled Snake Bite. “There’s a trick to drinking in this den of Other Worldly Booze boys, but I’m not going to tell it to you.”
“Don’t pick at random?” Gylepi grinned, snatching the glass of Snake Bite just as War was screwing the top back on. “Do you realise how weird it is drinking in a bar that’s completely empty except for us? Even the palace bar usually has a few staff members and army guys there.”
“I know what you mean,” Nol agreed, looking back over his shoulder at the empty room, “It makes it feel like everyone’s listening to you… except that there’s nobody there to listen. Except Famine, who apparently doesn’t speak Raykinian.”
Kurae had been silently scrutinising the bottles before he finally selected one, reaching across the bar to point at it. “That reddish one there… no, the half-empty one.”
“Nope, she’s not a linguist at all.” War turned his head towards Famine as he reached back and grabbed the bottle Kurae had asked for. “Are you, you pretty, fluffy little girlie?”
Famine glared at War with intense hatred and at the same time boredom. She knew he was saying something to piss her off, but without knowing what it was she was content to sit there and growl without slamming his head into the bar.
“And the thing about this house is there’s so much debauchery and wolf-howling that all the walls are heavily sound-proofed.” War took a long drink from his glass thoughtfully. “If I was more of an illusion man and not an electricity man, I’d be able to make the room seem like it was full of other people for ya.”
Nol ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled something unintelligible. Nimay grinned and tossed a flickering blue light in front of his nose, giggling as he jumped back from the bar and glared at her.
“Woah…” The impressed sound came from Kurae, who was examining his ruby-red drink with a definite smile on his face. “This is good.”
“Lin’s blood,” Melraan swore quietly, “Was that genuine approval from our dear swordie?”
Kurae held up the bottle and pointed the neck at his fellow swordsman. “We’re taking some of this on the next mission.”
“What is it?” Melraan asked, snatching the glass and taking a sip of Kurae’s choice. “High and holy blood of the goddesses.”
“See? I think it’s got chilli in it or something. Makes you warm all over, anyway.”
“Oh yeah, that’s coming home.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve got a couple of bottles of that I can spare for you boys. For a price.” He kept his grin plastered on his face, despite the looks the drinker’s gave him. “All right, for free maybe.”
There was a crash from the doorway, and War’s brown eyes didn’t even have to look that way, “Yo Pest.”
Pestilence giggled with good-nature pulling himself up and wandering clumsily over to Famine. “Aw, your party is making Famine growl… Well, is not unusual.”
War gestured to Pestilence for those who didn't know, "Pestilence, fellow horsemen."
“Hey,” Melraan drawled, “It’s the guy who looked like Yoryl only not.” He frowned briefly. “Lin’s blood we must have been gone.”
“Oh yeah,” Nol agreed with a lopsided grin.
“Hey Pethtilenth?” Melraan called out, holding up the red bottle, “You think you could get War to give us a free bottle of this one?”
“Stick to Raykinian,” Nol advised, “He can probably understand that better.”
“I prefer the term ‘nicely-toasted’ to wasted,” War put in before taking a swig of his drink.
Pestilence blinked his purple eye slowly at the conversation which was mostly in a language he had no hope of understanding. Finally he looked at War, “Are being horrible to your drinking friends?”
“Oh, yes,” War answered with a cocky smile.
Pestilence made a wordless sound, leaning his elbow on the bar – well, managing to do it the second attempt he made. “Don’t know why they like you. Are an ass, and they are..” Pestilence paused, looking over the Own, “Are… ooh, wow.”
War rolled his eyes and poured another drink.
“Are what?” Gylepi asked innocently.
“Oooh, my Gods,” Pestilence had slipped into his own world – a world of several tanned, buff men sitting around.
War leant across the bar and flicked Pestilence’s forehead. Pesti squeaked, losing his balance and almost going over if not for Famine’s bored, quick reflex that caught him. “Stop that. Stop that now.”
Melraan snorted. “Okay, so maybe he’s worse than Yoryl.”
The other four men laughed; Nimay shook her head and snapped her fingers to grab War’s attention, pointing at a long, skinny bottle with a rich yellow liquid in it.
“We’re not that bad,” Anganur said indignantly, “Are we?”
The swordswoman smirked and shook her head helplessly. They’d had that conversation many times before. Instead she beckoned the remarkably Tsaythi-like Force over. Well, he would be Tsaythi-like if he had a bit more muscle on him.
“I don’t know if I like that ‘serve me, barwench’ attitude, there. Then again, coming from ‘may, maybe I do,” War reached for the bottle she’d indicated, grabbing a glass.
Pestilence righted himself, with another totally unselfconscious giggled, using the bar to make sure he didn’t stumble on his way down to where Nimay beckoned.
The swordswoman batted her eyelids sweetly at War as she accepted the glass he offered her, then gave Nol a subtle nudge.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Pestilence, meet half the Own. Half the Own, meet Pestilence.”
Nimay folded her arms and fixed a flat stare on him.
“What?”
Gylepi gave a long-suffering sigh and took over from his fellow archer. “Pestilence, that’s Nimay, Nolryn, Melraan, Anganur, and Kurae on the end. I’m Gylepi.”
“I see,” Pestilence said, batting his one pretty eye.
“What did I just say?” War sighed.
“Don’t own me, War,” Pestilence said, waving a hand dismissively at him and stealing an ice-cube from his drink to suck.
“I want to continue to like these people,” War informed Pesti, with a sideways look.
Pestilence looked at War seriously, before leaning over the conuter, “War, your friends are all so buff, they make me sooo hot!”
War twitched, recoiling from the bar and looking at Famine. “Help?”
Famine shook her head and opened her third beer. Pestilence smiled and got back to sucking his ice-cube, content he had won.
Nimay hid a giggle behind her hand, looking back over her shoulder at the guys, who were suddenly all looking somewhat uncomfortable. It wasn’t often she saw them put in such a position, and Lin’s blood was she enjoying the spectacle. Especially Anganur. He was always so sure of himself it was sickening.
“Also straight,” Gylepi emphasised, “And married, in most cases.”
Pestilence turned his eye towards Gylepi, catching wind of Nimay’s amusement and also feeling the need to annoy War a little more. “Oh, well,” Pesti admitted, holding out his hand and flashing his rings, “am married too, to my soul-mate, and deeply in love.”
The blonde nibbled on his ice-cube, waiting for the men to seem relaxed before he leant down the bar, purring in his most seductive voice, “But what my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
The look of pure horror was mirrored on every face down the line. Kurae even seemed to be turning red.
It was too much for Nimay to handle. She burst out laughing, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and spilling some of her drink in the process.
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Kurae muttered.
The swordswoman took a breath to calm herself, peeked up again, and burst once more into laughter.
Pestilence ran out of ice-cube, nibbling on his index finger instead in a heavily flirty manner. “Just love rugged men,” the blonde said breathily. “Will flex just flex me your muscles, hmm?”
Unfortunately for the dainty Force, Nimay was the only one to indulge him, and she earned a slap on the back of the head from Nol for her efforts. All she could do was giggle though.
War muttered something to himself, rubbing his temple with his free hand before he paused. The cogs turned in his head and then he slammed his hand against the bar, “Yes! Get a crush, with anyone, and then leave the corpse, and fucking shatter his life so he dies a horrible death, and then all will be well.”
Pestilence recovered from slipping against Nimay when War had startled him with that loud noise, giving her a one-eyed look that clearly said ‘See what I have to put up with?’
Nimay patted him comfortingly and gave him a sympathetic look. War was, in essence, a blade archer. Nimay had to deal with two of them on a near-daily basis, and from what she had seen of the purple-haired force, he more than made up for both of them. She could definitely understand what Pestilence had to put up with.
It didn’t stop the situation from amusing her to the ends of the earth though.
“I need another drink,” Anganur declared, turning very deliberately away from the blond Force.
“Me too,” Melraan agreed, “Strongest one you’ve got, War, I don’t care what it tastes like.”
War took a short breath, to quall his murderous hatred of Pestilence’s husband, before glancing along the rows of drinks. He pulled a bottle out of its place, “Coming right up.”
Pestilence recovered from his stumble, shaking out his hair and playing with a nearby swizzle-stick. “Gylepi,” Pestilence mused, trying the name on his tongue, before smiling. “Oh, were the one who invited my baby to come see your horses.” Pestilence reached out and touched the archer’s arm with his dark hand, his smile shifting slightly back towards that suggestive one. “Really should… thank you for that,” Pestilence purred, his eye sliding down the Raykinian’s body.
“Girl,” Famine grunted from the end of the bar. “Distracting people from beer is a dangerous habit.”
“Um… yes… That was me…” Gylepi mumbled, his back hard up against the bar bench as he tried and failed to get a handle on the foreign tongue. “Please don’t,” he said, finally reverting to his native Raykinian.
Pesti gave a girly-giggle, “Ooh, just love accents.”
The archer swallowed hard and looked upwards, then gave the General a pleading look.
Nimay was still was still trying to stop herself from laughing aloud, but something made her take pity on the poor archer. She turned her eyes towards War, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring the display going on in front of him. She gestured towards the hapless archer and raised her eyebrows in silent challenge.
War looked at Nimay, looked at Pestilence’s display and then sighed heavily.
“Okay, fine, this really needs to be sorted,” War said, moving around the bar and grabbing Pestilence so he could sling him over his shoulder. He walked back ground the other side of the bar in almost the same movement. “Right, you want something strong now, huh?” He guessed, pouring Gylepi something to drink.
Pestilence blinked at the row of bottles in front of him, before sighing and digging his elbows into War’s buttocks and resting his chin on his hands. “If didn’t have such a great ass, this would be so undignified,” He muttered.
Gylepi accepted the drink thankfully, without turning around to face the bar, and downed it in one. He shook his head vigorously at the drink, holding the heel of his free hand to his temple before slapping the empty glass on the bar bench, but still not turning around.
Nimay noticed that all five of them were turned very deliberately from the bar—or more specifically, the blond force hanging from War’s shoulder behind it. She rolled her eyes, took a few steps away from the bench and folded her arms sternly, though one eyebrow was cocked. ‘You’re fine with Yoryl, how’s this any different?’
“Here we go,” Anganur muttered, well aware what they were in for.
Nimay shifted her weight to her other foot and raised both eyebrows, fixing her stern sapphire gaze with each of them in turn until they looked away. That was the silent treatment, as only the General could give it.
“Ya see,” War said, looking at Famine and drinking some of his beer. “This is why I can’t have people over.”
“Because the girl makes you a bigger spaz than usual,” Famine muttered.
“Because Sunshine is something else entirely,” War corrected, giving her a look.
“Sunshine is getting stomach ache from your hard shoulder,” Pestilence informed War from behind him.
“Sunshine needs to be kept under supervision.”
“Are an ass,” Pestilence said, decidedly. Of course, he had known that for a great many years.
The five men of the Own were exchanging silent looks, debating which of them was going to speak up.
Nimay knew they’d decide eventually, but sometimes men needed a bit of a push in this kind of situation. She shifted her weight back to her other leg, knowing no more was needed.
The five of them simultaneously turned back around, resting their elbows on the bench.
“Pestilence?” Melraan began, “I’m sure you’re great company… but we really just came here to drink.”
“See?” Pestilence swatted at the nearest part of War he could reach considering his potion. “Am great company. Now you tell me am great company,” Pestilence said, pointing at Kurae and batting his eye.
War looked at Famine, “You want him?”
“Ti’lan above, no,” Famine snorted.
Kurae hid behind the glass of red liquor he’d just poured. “You’re great company, now please leave?”
Nimay could only shake her head and give the Force an apologetic smile.
“Have to leave my own home?” Pestilence asked, with a pout.
War sighed, putting Pestilence on the bar more gently than he seemed to. He looked him in the eye, seriously. “What do you want from me?”
“What have got?” Pestilence smirked.
“I will play with your child if you leave me with my manly atmosphere,” War told him with a slight wince like the sentence caused him pain.
“Will?” Pestilence blinked shocked. “All day?”
“Yes.”
“And will be nice to her?”
War pulled a face, and took a moment before he could force the word from between his teeth. “Yes, now do what I never ask you to do and bugger off, please?”
“Hmm,” Pestilence considered his options, looking back at the Own.
Kurae was still hiding behind his glass. Gylepi and Nol had gotten into some deep and meaningful conversation that was most certainly not deep and meaningful in that language Pesti didn’t understand. Melraan was pretending to pay attention. Anganur was poking at the ice cubes in his glass with a swizzle stick—not the one Pesti had been toying with earlier.
Nimay was shaking her head at them, clearly deciding they were a lost cause. She shrugged at the blond, sighing helplessly. ‘Up to you, but I wouldn’t bet on getting anything more out of them.’
Pestilence smirked and giggled, “Okay fine. Will go back to a man who knows how to treat me.” He looked at War, “That’s roughly.”
“I don’t want to know, man.” War said making sure Pesti didn’t fall getting off the counter from the corner of his eye.
“Hn,” Famine pointed the bottle near Kurae and then at a full duplicate bottle on the shelf. She flashed her left hand once, twice, and then two fingers.
“Oh…” Pestilence looked at the full bottle a moment, before another bottle appeared on the counter, which doubled itself to make two, then four, then eight and finally another four appeared.
Famine nodded, satisfied that these… males would leave her bar eventually.
Nimay looked down at her yrae stone, then over at the duplicated bottles of fiery red liquid.
“You need to learn how to do that,” Anganur told her.
Nol shook his head. “No, no, I’d rather just pay for another bottle.” He eyed the duplicates suspiciously. “Which was the original one?”
Kurae shrugged and grabbed the neck of one of the bottles, handing it down the line to the prince.
“You sure?”
“No idea,” Kurae answered, shaking his head, “They’re all the same.”
“Except that most of them have been… magicked up,” he muttered, but he took the bottle anyway.
“Duplicated,” War said, watching Pestilence leave and making sure that his best friend did no more unsettling of his drinking-friends on the way, “is not magic. It’s copying.”
“Via magical methods,” Famine grunted.
“Yeah.”
“And a magical being,” Famine added.
“Fam-fam, beer,” War said, sliding another one down to her to get her back into quiet growling mode. He rubbed his chin and leant on the bar, “So let’s get this straight. A magic spaz, also a spaz with magical by-products – but not magical people if they don’t use their magic. Nol, you're an odd boy."
Nol shook his head. “I am not a ‘magic spaz’! I just—”
“Yeah, you don’t like it,” Gylepi grinned, using Nolryn’s head as an arm rest. “Same as you don’t like snakes… Hey, is that a Liquid Sunset?”
Nol pushed the taller archer’s arm from his head, then leant over the bar bench to inspect the bottom row of bottles.
“No,” Gylepi said, pointing Nol in the right direction, “that one. The keg under the bench there.”
The prince’s eyebrows rose slowly as he noticed the distinctive rippled yellow sun painted on the lid. “How in Lin’s name did you score a full keg? That thing is worth a fortune!”
“Why yes, yes it is.” War flashed a winning smile, “But I get paid just to live, so I managed to score one.”
The Own exchanged smug glances, then Nol dug into his pocket and flipped five gold coins onto the bench top. “All right then, quael, pour me one. You’ve taken enough of them at the ‘Thrai, see if you can pour one that’s worth five gold.”
Anganur slapped another five gold on the bar bench. “Likewise.”
Gylepi shook his head. “Didn’t we come here to taste test new booze, not the stuff we already know is good?”
“Once again I am reduced to a serving wench,” War rolled his eyes. “But, as the night is young – jailbait even – I will share my keg of stuff you already know, and then continue to get drunk with you.”
“So, you’re gonna get drunk and bang some jailbait?” A chipper voice asked, as Sex leant over the bar with a smile.
War looked at her, she looked back at him. War raised an eyebrow, she smiled more, “Pesti told me to come and annoy you.” She clapped her hands and pointed at a glass-doored fridge, “Bacardi, barwench!”
Nimay grinned and held up two fingers. She sided with Gylepi on this one, and if someone else already liked it, then she had a better chance of enjoying it herself. Besides, she’d never really been a fan of Liquid Sunsets.
“Oh no you don’t,” Anganur said, “Sunsets were ordered first.”
“Oh psh,” Sex waved her hand and then trust out her chest. “Ladies first, boys”
“She’s got me there, and I’m on the wrong side of the bar to give her a wedgie, so I must obey,” War shrugged as though he were helpless in this matter. “Oh yes, the own, Sex. Sex, this is Nolryn, Nimay, Gylepi, Melraan, Anganur and Kurae.”
“Hi, I won’t remember any of your names for a while,” Sex informed them with a wave.
Nimay had lost her after War had given her name, as she was sure the rest of the guys had as well. Except maybe Anganur.
“I’ll make sure you remember mine, sweetheart.” Yep, that’d be Anganur.
Nimay groaned and hid her face in her hands. There were times when she couldn’t help but be embarrassed that she commanded these guys.
“Aw, that’s cute,” Sex said, sounding genuinely amused. “You’re gonna get a shock, buddy.”
War smirked, but didn’t elaborate, giving Nimay and Sex their drinks, before preparing to make the Liquid Sunsets.
“Thank you!” Sex patted Nimay on the back cheerily, “Don’t get embarrassed for men, you’ll spend your whole life cringing.”
War shook his head slightly, “You know, you’re all perfectly fine talking to the Personifications of War, and Famine and Pestilence, but stick Sex in the room and you all look like you’ve been slapped in the face.”
Melraan gave the purple-haired Force a huffy look. “Sorry if it takes us a moment to get used to the fact that Sex is an actual person. How are those Liquid Sunsets coming?”
War took the hint and got back to his serving.
“Everything you can think of is a person,” Sex told them. “Luck, good and bad, Love, Romance, Dream, Hate, Happiness,” She listed, counting off on her fingers as if she was going to list them all. She pointed at War, “Jerkiness.”
Nimay giggled and took a sip of the new drink handed to her. It was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite pick it. It was probably related to some liquor she’d tried once in Kazin. She hadn’t liked it then, either.
The men were carefully scrutinising War as he tapped out a pair of glasses of Liquid Sunset, and looking at their faces, Nimay could already tell there was no way War was going to win this one.
“This is me getting owned,” War remarked to Sex. “And no one will know it happened.”
Sex looked at the other men’s faces, “Oh, I get the feeling everyone will know.”
War shrugged his head good-naturedly. He could usually take it as much as he dished it out.
“I’d feel sorry for you, but you don’t deserve my sympathy.” Sex put her bottle on the counter and looked at Nimay with a smile. “I'm guessing that's not your kind of drink, hm?”
Nimay shook her head, but shrugged and took another sip anyway. She could learn to like it.
“Well,” Nol began, inspecting his glass thoughtfully, “Wrong glass for a start, but we won’t hold that against you. Kal wouldn’t give up any of those glasses for any amount of money.”
“Hmm,” Anganur agreed with a sage nod, “Not sure they’re the same volume though. That’s a silver off.”
“No handle either: another silver.”
“Too much head: another silver.”
Nimay nudged the prince and pointed at the keg sitting under the bench.
“Ooh yes,” Nol agreed, “Stored under the bench instead of in a cellar: I’d take off two silvers for that.”
“I don’t know about that. It is cooler here than Ni-Yana.”
“True enough… one silver then.”
“What are we down to now? Four gold, six silver?”
The prince nodded and wrapped his fingers around the glass then lifted it in a toast. “Bottoms up,” he declared, then put the glass to his lips.
“That money might just stem the pain of my not being up to par with pouring Liquid Sunsets.” War sighed dramatically, “The one thing in my life I should be good at.”
“Wow,” Sex mused, “War found friends that are just like him. I didn’t think that was possible. In fact, I kind of hoped it wasn’t.”
“They aren’t as batshit as him,” Famine muttered.
“Oh, but being batshit crazy is totally a Force trait,” Sex grinned.
“Hey!” Nol pointed accusingly at the brown-haired Force. “Our kingdom was built on this drink.”
“Exactly,” Anganur agreed, “don’t knock back a Liquid Sunset before you’ve tried it.” He slid his glass down the bench towards Sex, grinning broadly.
“You can’t build a kingdom on a drink, it would sink,” Sex seemed to be holding back a giggle.
“Subject changing there,” War commented.
“I’m not a beer drinker, per say,” Sex admitted, looking closely at the drink that had been pushed towards her.
“You’re right,” Nol said, taking another swig of his favourite brew, “The beer in this world is terrible. This is the real thing though.”
Nimay nodded in agreement, wishing War had brought back some Venom with him instead. Liquid Sunset wasn’t the best drink to start people off on; better to start with something not quite so potent.
“I’m not a beer drinker in my own world either. I only went to bars to drive people wild or give them instant orgasms,” Sex explained, tapping the glass.
“Those were the days,” War smirked.
“I’m too mature for that now, of course,” Sex stuck her tongue out.
“Of course,” Anganur said uncertainly, “Just drink the stuff; I want my glass back.”
“Drink the beer you freak,” Famine grunted, getting herself another beer of her own preferred brand.
Sex rolled her lavender eyes, picking up the glass and taking a mouthful of the amber liquid, replacing the glass on the counter. She held the liquid in her mouth a while, one eyebrow frowning slightly in thought before she swallowed it and pushed the glass back down the counter.
“Not bad, eh?” Anganur said with a grin, taking a thankful swig from his glass, “I mean, considering it’s not worth the full five.”
“Well,” Sex said graciously, “I’d rather drink that than… say… have all my teeth removed with some pliers.”
The six Own riders shook their heads and let out their collective held breaths in disappointment.
“Ah well,” Anganur lamented, “Not for everyone. Bit of an acquired taste, I think. To tell you the truth, it’s a rare foreigner who acquires it first up.”
“I’m a lightweight, I’m sure your drink is very nice.” Sex waved her hand and then looked at it as it glowed dimly, along with the rest of her arm and then body. “Hey, it’s sunset.”
“Oh right,” War reached over and stuck his hand over Nol’s eyes. “You won’t wanna watch this.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Nol agreed, holding his glass up to his lips again.
The rest of the Own fell silent at the spectacle before them, and Nimay looked down at her bangle again.
“You know,” Melraan said casually to her, “That stone of yours is beginning to look mighty ordinary.”
“Hmm…” Nimay nodded and tapped thoughtfully at the yrae stone.
“I don’t want to know,” the prince muttered.
“I was created this way, you know. I can’t control this, so it doesn’t count as magic,” Sex said, reaching behind his back and unclasping his bra so he could remove it now it was no longer needed. “You see, there’s magic you have and then there’s magic that you-”
“Nol doesn’t want to know,” War smirked, leaning back on his side of the bar. “So don’t bother explaining.”
“Someone doesn’t like magic? That’s rare,” Sex folded his bra neatly.
“It still counts in my mind,” Nol argued, rubbing his eyes before opening them again. “I’ll just get—ooh Aeia.” He hastily turned away again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry, I get that reaction from most people,” Sex finished his drink.
“Aren’t you glad I’m relatively normal?” War smirked.
“Except for your wing,” Famine pointed out blandly. “And your obsessiveness with your best friend, and your batshit.”
“We all know ‘normal’ is the Force that doesn’t exist,” Sex smirked. “But especially not for War.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Nol raised his glass and drained the remaining few mouthfuls from it.
“I could go if I make you uncomfortable,” Sex offered.
Nol shook his head with a grin. “No no, I’ll be fine. I’ll just get drunk, that’ll do the trick.”
“Aw, you’re such a gentlemen,” Sex smirked. “Just like War.”
“Don’t insult me by calling me a ‘gentleman’,” War told him with a sideways look. “But if you want to get drunk fast, I’ve got just the brew for you over here…”
Authors~ Annarti and Sallie
Disclaimer~ ...Hoi. Okay. War, Pestilence, Famine and Sex are Sallie's, along with the bar they're in. Nimay, Nolryn, Melraan, Kurae, Gylepi and Anganur are Annarti's. YAY.
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration #135. 'nother one of those funky joint fic things. Pure crack X)
“Okay,” War leant over the wide of the bar without any stools, raising a dark eyebrow at his drinking buddies. He seemed a bit too rough for the elegant surroundings in jeans and a tight t-shirt – clearly the bar had been build with mahogany, gold and a lot of liquors by someone with classical taste.
“We have ground-rules here. Firstly, and this is important, so bare with me. If you see any labelless bottles,” War pointed at the nearest bottle hanging up without a label, “that belongs to Death and you can’t drink it because it will kill you and I’m not kidding. I’m talking instant death, murder on my hands again. So, none of that, okay?”
The six Own riders—even more out-of-place in the high-class bar—exchanged amused glances, but nodded anyway. It was going to take some time to get used to the fact that there were in fact stronger drinkers than Raykinian nobility.
“So what’s our first poison?” Melraan asked, eyeing the well-stocked shelves behind the bar bench. The multi-coloured glass was already vastly different from the standard reddish bottles back home.
War tapped some of the bottles on their necks, some of them were human-realm drinks, some First Realm drinks, some from any other Realm and world Death had access to getting drinks from. “Well, the Pink Elephant is primarily Nol’s, and although he may share it, it will fuck your shit up, so we’ll be saving that. I got the good Snake Bite, we could start with that, go from the feet up.”
War paused, sliding himself down the bar towards the far end, where Famine was sitting alone. “Of course, you won’t want to do that, will you?” He cooed at the fellow Force, who could almost have looked like his sister.
She gave him a long, bored look. “Get me a fucking beer.”
“Yep, I thought so.”
“Who’s he?” Anganur whispered to the prince.
“Not a he,” Nol whispered back, desperately hoping the blue-haired Force wasn’t as much of a linguist as War or Death.
“You’re joking,” the pikeman said incredulously, staring down the bar past his colleagues.
Nol shook his head. “No, look. Boobs. Anyway, that’s Famine. She reckons Raykin’s backwards.”
“Well,” Melraan interrupted, “we kind of are compared to this place.” He rapped his knuckles on the mahogany bar bench and cast his eyes over the impressive setting.
War slid a beer down the counter to his fellow Force as he switched into Raykinian dialect for extra privacy. “She doesn’t like being a she – but neither does she like being referred to as male. Stick with just ‘she’ and ‘Famine’ to talk to her, and you might just not get your jibblies lopped off.”
The purple-haired man leaned towards them confidentially, “Trust me on that. Even if they don’t come totally off, it hurts like a bitch – but on the plus side, we have a good healer here, and you’re left sterile.”
The Raykinians stared at him in horror for a moment, except Nimay, who folded her arms and raised an amused eyebrow.
“That’s the plus?” Gylepi’s voice was a good octave higher than normal, which still left it pretty deep.
Anganur shrugged. “I could take her,” he announced casually, then pointed at a random green bottle on the shelves behind War. “What’s that one?”
War couldn’t quite hold back his smirk at the other mens' shock. “Brave words there, Anganur,” War complemented, turning back to the rows of drinks.
“War,” Famine growled from her end of the bar, in English. “Language.”
“Sorry, did I forget I was in England again?” War grinned at her, before returning to looking over the drinks. He grabbed the bottle, throwing it in the air, catching it and reading the label. “That’s Claw Plach, from one of these underwater worlds. It tastes a bit… weird, but it’s a good brew if you can get over that.”
The pikeman frowned as War poured the effervescent green drink into a glass. “How in Lin’s sweet name does an underwater world have a drink? And I could still take her. With a palu, at least.”
“Down there? It’s generally ice, ‘cos they have colder temperatures, but stick it in a bottle and bring it here and it melts.” War stuck some ice-cubes in the glass of the drink that was slightly better cold.
“War!” Famine snapped from the other end of the bar.
“Hey, I have to talk to my guests, I’ll do it in their language, you don’t like it then just drink and don’t listen,” War suggested to her, before pushing the drink towards Anganur.
Famine muttered something which sounded more like a growl than any language, before snapping the top from her beer.
War shook his head, before switching back to the Raykinian vernacular. “And if you go at her with a palu, she’ll bring out her scythe… but she’s not at my standards... In fact, you're right, you could take her,” War smiled his most charming ‘I am not stirring it’ smile.
“Thank you, thank you.” Anganur took the bubbling green glass, then shrugged and took an experimental sip, well-aware that the eyes of the rest of the guys were on him. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help coughing and putting on a disgusted face.
“That strong, is it?” Gylepi mocked.
Anganur shook his head. “Well, yeah, but not alcohol.” He held the glass back and coughed again, inspecting the green liquid accusingly. “Guess it wouldn’t freeze if it had too much booze in it. I don’t know what that is.”
“Just a touch fishy, aint it? I have no idea why, you’d expect it to be more salty.” War leant on the bar and poured himself a better green-coloured drink – his fabled Snake Bite. “There’s a trick to drinking in this den of Other Worldly Booze boys, but I’m not going to tell it to you.”
“Don’t pick at random?” Gylepi grinned, snatching the glass of Snake Bite just as War was screwing the top back on. “Do you realise how weird it is drinking in a bar that’s completely empty except for us? Even the palace bar usually has a few staff members and army guys there.”
“I know what you mean,” Nol agreed, looking back over his shoulder at the empty room, “It makes it feel like everyone’s listening to you… except that there’s nobody there to listen. Except Famine, who apparently doesn’t speak Raykinian.”
Kurae had been silently scrutinising the bottles before he finally selected one, reaching across the bar to point at it. “That reddish one there… no, the half-empty one.”
“Nope, she’s not a linguist at all.” War turned his head towards Famine as he reached back and grabbed the bottle Kurae had asked for. “Are you, you pretty, fluffy little girlie?”
Famine glared at War with intense hatred and at the same time boredom. She knew he was saying something to piss her off, but without knowing what it was she was content to sit there and growl without slamming his head into the bar.
“And the thing about this house is there’s so much debauchery and wolf-howling that all the walls are heavily sound-proofed.” War took a long drink from his glass thoughtfully. “If I was more of an illusion man and not an electricity man, I’d be able to make the room seem like it was full of other people for ya.”
Nol ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled something unintelligible. Nimay grinned and tossed a flickering blue light in front of his nose, giggling as he jumped back from the bar and glared at her.
“Woah…” The impressed sound came from Kurae, who was examining his ruby-red drink with a definite smile on his face. “This is good.”
“Lin’s blood,” Melraan swore quietly, “Was that genuine approval from our dear swordie?”
Kurae held up the bottle and pointed the neck at his fellow swordsman. “We’re taking some of this on the next mission.”
“What is it?” Melraan asked, snatching the glass and taking a sip of Kurae’s choice. “High and holy blood of the goddesses.”
“See? I think it’s got chilli in it or something. Makes you warm all over, anyway.”
“Oh yeah, that’s coming home.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve got a couple of bottles of that I can spare for you boys. For a price.” He kept his grin plastered on his face, despite the looks the drinker’s gave him. “All right, for free maybe.”
There was a crash from the doorway, and War’s brown eyes didn’t even have to look that way, “Yo Pest.”
Pestilence giggled with good-nature pulling himself up and wandering clumsily over to Famine. “Aw, your party is making Famine growl… Well, is not unusual.”
War gestured to Pestilence for those who didn't know, "Pestilence, fellow horsemen."
“Hey,” Melraan drawled, “It’s the guy who looked like Yoryl only not.” He frowned briefly. “Lin’s blood we must have been gone.”
“Oh yeah,” Nol agreed with a lopsided grin.
“Hey Pethtilenth?” Melraan called out, holding up the red bottle, “You think you could get War to give us a free bottle of this one?”
“Stick to Raykinian,” Nol advised, “He can probably understand that better.”
“I prefer the term ‘nicely-toasted’ to wasted,” War put in before taking a swig of his drink.
Pestilence blinked his purple eye slowly at the conversation which was mostly in a language he had no hope of understanding. Finally he looked at War, “Are being horrible to your drinking friends?”
“Oh, yes,” War answered with a cocky smile.
Pestilence made a wordless sound, leaning his elbow on the bar – well, managing to do it the second attempt he made. “Don’t know why they like you. Are an ass, and they are..” Pestilence paused, looking over the Own, “Are… ooh, wow.”
War rolled his eyes and poured another drink.
“Are what?” Gylepi asked innocently.
“Oooh, my Gods,” Pestilence had slipped into his own world – a world of several tanned, buff men sitting around.
War leant across the bar and flicked Pestilence’s forehead. Pesti squeaked, losing his balance and almost going over if not for Famine’s bored, quick reflex that caught him. “Stop that. Stop that now.”
Melraan snorted. “Okay, so maybe he’s worse than Yoryl.”
The other four men laughed; Nimay shook her head and snapped her fingers to grab War’s attention, pointing at a long, skinny bottle with a rich yellow liquid in it.
“We’re not that bad,” Anganur said indignantly, “Are we?”
The swordswoman smirked and shook her head helplessly. They’d had that conversation many times before. Instead she beckoned the remarkably Tsaythi-like Force over. Well, he would be Tsaythi-like if he had a bit more muscle on him.
“I don’t know if I like that ‘serve me, barwench’ attitude, there. Then again, coming from ‘may, maybe I do,” War reached for the bottle she’d indicated, grabbing a glass.
Pestilence righted himself, with another totally unselfconscious giggled, using the bar to make sure he didn’t stumble on his way down to where Nimay beckoned.
The swordswoman batted her eyelids sweetly at War as she accepted the glass he offered her, then gave Nol a subtle nudge.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Pestilence, meet half the Own. Half the Own, meet Pestilence.”
Nimay folded her arms and fixed a flat stare on him.
“What?”
Gylepi gave a long-suffering sigh and took over from his fellow archer. “Pestilence, that’s Nimay, Nolryn, Melraan, Anganur, and Kurae on the end. I’m Gylepi.”
“I see,” Pestilence said, batting his one pretty eye.
“What did I just say?” War sighed.
“Don’t own me, War,” Pestilence said, waving a hand dismissively at him and stealing an ice-cube from his drink to suck.
“I want to continue to like these people,” War informed Pesti, with a sideways look.
Pestilence looked at War seriously, before leaning over the conuter, “War, your friends are all so buff, they make me sooo hot!”
War twitched, recoiling from the bar and looking at Famine. “Help?”
Famine shook her head and opened her third beer. Pestilence smiled and got back to sucking his ice-cube, content he had won.
Nimay hid a giggle behind her hand, looking back over her shoulder at the guys, who were suddenly all looking somewhat uncomfortable. It wasn’t often she saw them put in such a position, and Lin’s blood was she enjoying the spectacle. Especially Anganur. He was always so sure of himself it was sickening.
“Also straight,” Gylepi emphasised, “And married, in most cases.”
Pestilence turned his eye towards Gylepi, catching wind of Nimay’s amusement and also feeling the need to annoy War a little more. “Oh, well,” Pesti admitted, holding out his hand and flashing his rings, “am married too, to my soul-mate, and deeply in love.”
The blonde nibbled on his ice-cube, waiting for the men to seem relaxed before he leant down the bar, purring in his most seductive voice, “But what my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
The look of pure horror was mirrored on every face down the line. Kurae even seemed to be turning red.
It was too much for Nimay to handle. She burst out laughing, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and spilling some of her drink in the process.
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Kurae muttered.
The swordswoman took a breath to calm herself, peeked up again, and burst once more into laughter.
Pestilence ran out of ice-cube, nibbling on his index finger instead in a heavily flirty manner. “Just love rugged men,” the blonde said breathily. “Will flex just flex me your muscles, hmm?”
Unfortunately for the dainty Force, Nimay was the only one to indulge him, and she earned a slap on the back of the head from Nol for her efforts. All she could do was giggle though.
War muttered something to himself, rubbing his temple with his free hand before he paused. The cogs turned in his head and then he slammed his hand against the bar, “Yes! Get a crush, with anyone, and then leave the corpse, and fucking shatter his life so he dies a horrible death, and then all will be well.”
Pestilence recovered from slipping against Nimay when War had startled him with that loud noise, giving her a one-eyed look that clearly said ‘See what I have to put up with?’
Nimay patted him comfortingly and gave him a sympathetic look. War was, in essence, a blade archer. Nimay had to deal with two of them on a near-daily basis, and from what she had seen of the purple-haired force, he more than made up for both of them. She could definitely understand what Pestilence had to put up with.
It didn’t stop the situation from amusing her to the ends of the earth though.
“I need another drink,” Anganur declared, turning very deliberately away from the blond Force.
“Me too,” Melraan agreed, “Strongest one you’ve got, War, I don’t care what it tastes like.”
War took a short breath, to quall his murderous hatred of Pestilence’s husband, before glancing along the rows of drinks. He pulled a bottle out of its place, “Coming right up.”
Pestilence recovered from his stumble, shaking out his hair and playing with a nearby swizzle-stick. “Gylepi,” Pestilence mused, trying the name on his tongue, before smiling. “Oh, were the one who invited my baby to come see your horses.” Pestilence reached out and touched the archer’s arm with his dark hand, his smile shifting slightly back towards that suggestive one. “Really should… thank you for that,” Pestilence purred, his eye sliding down the Raykinian’s body.
“Girl,” Famine grunted from the end of the bar. “Distracting people from beer is a dangerous habit.”
“Um… yes… That was me…” Gylepi mumbled, his back hard up against the bar bench as he tried and failed to get a handle on the foreign tongue. “Please don’t,” he said, finally reverting to his native Raykinian.
Pesti gave a girly-giggle, “Ooh, just love accents.”
The archer swallowed hard and looked upwards, then gave the General a pleading look.
Nimay was still was still trying to stop herself from laughing aloud, but something made her take pity on the poor archer. She turned her eyes towards War, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring the display going on in front of him. She gestured towards the hapless archer and raised her eyebrows in silent challenge.
War looked at Nimay, looked at Pestilence’s display and then sighed heavily.
“Okay, fine, this really needs to be sorted,” War said, moving around the bar and grabbing Pestilence so he could sling him over his shoulder. He walked back ground the other side of the bar in almost the same movement. “Right, you want something strong now, huh?” He guessed, pouring Gylepi something to drink.
Pestilence blinked at the row of bottles in front of him, before sighing and digging his elbows into War’s buttocks and resting his chin on his hands. “If didn’t have such a great ass, this would be so undignified,” He muttered.
Gylepi accepted the drink thankfully, without turning around to face the bar, and downed it in one. He shook his head vigorously at the drink, holding the heel of his free hand to his temple before slapping the empty glass on the bar bench, but still not turning around.
Nimay noticed that all five of them were turned very deliberately from the bar—or more specifically, the blond force hanging from War’s shoulder behind it. She rolled her eyes, took a few steps away from the bench and folded her arms sternly, though one eyebrow was cocked. ‘You’re fine with Yoryl, how’s this any different?’
“Here we go,” Anganur muttered, well aware what they were in for.
Nimay shifted her weight to her other foot and raised both eyebrows, fixing her stern sapphire gaze with each of them in turn until they looked away. That was the silent treatment, as only the General could give it.
“Ya see,” War said, looking at Famine and drinking some of his beer. “This is why I can’t have people over.”
“Because the girl makes you a bigger spaz than usual,” Famine muttered.
“Because Sunshine is something else entirely,” War corrected, giving her a look.
“Sunshine is getting stomach ache from your hard shoulder,” Pestilence informed War from behind him.
“Sunshine needs to be kept under supervision.”
“Are an ass,” Pestilence said, decidedly. Of course, he had known that for a great many years.
The five men of the Own were exchanging silent looks, debating which of them was going to speak up.
Nimay knew they’d decide eventually, but sometimes men needed a bit of a push in this kind of situation. She shifted her weight back to her other leg, knowing no more was needed.
The five of them simultaneously turned back around, resting their elbows on the bench.
“Pestilence?” Melraan began, “I’m sure you’re great company… but we really just came here to drink.”
“See?” Pestilence swatted at the nearest part of War he could reach considering his potion. “Am great company. Now you tell me am great company,” Pestilence said, pointing at Kurae and batting his eye.
War looked at Famine, “You want him?”
“Ti’lan above, no,” Famine snorted.
Kurae hid behind the glass of red liquor he’d just poured. “You’re great company, now please leave?”
Nimay could only shake her head and give the Force an apologetic smile.
“Have to leave my own home?” Pestilence asked, with a pout.
War sighed, putting Pestilence on the bar more gently than he seemed to. He looked him in the eye, seriously. “What do you want from me?”
“What have got?” Pestilence smirked.
“I will play with your child if you leave me with my manly atmosphere,” War told him with a slight wince like the sentence caused him pain.
“Will?” Pestilence blinked shocked. “All day?”
“Yes.”
“And will be nice to her?”
War pulled a face, and took a moment before he could force the word from between his teeth. “Yes, now do what I never ask you to do and bugger off, please?”
“Hmm,” Pestilence considered his options, looking back at the Own.
Kurae was still hiding behind his glass. Gylepi and Nol had gotten into some deep and meaningful conversation that was most certainly not deep and meaningful in that language Pesti didn’t understand. Melraan was pretending to pay attention. Anganur was poking at the ice cubes in his glass with a swizzle stick—not the one Pesti had been toying with earlier.
Nimay was shaking her head at them, clearly deciding they were a lost cause. She shrugged at the blond, sighing helplessly. ‘Up to you, but I wouldn’t bet on getting anything more out of them.’
Pestilence smirked and giggled, “Okay fine. Will go back to a man who knows how to treat me.” He looked at War, “That’s roughly.”
“I don’t want to know, man.” War said making sure Pesti didn’t fall getting off the counter from the corner of his eye.
“Hn,” Famine pointed the bottle near Kurae and then at a full duplicate bottle on the shelf. She flashed her left hand once, twice, and then two fingers.
“Oh…” Pestilence looked at the full bottle a moment, before another bottle appeared on the counter, which doubled itself to make two, then four, then eight and finally another four appeared.
Famine nodded, satisfied that these… males would leave her bar eventually.
Nimay looked down at her yrae stone, then over at the duplicated bottles of fiery red liquid.
“You need to learn how to do that,” Anganur told her.
Nol shook his head. “No, no, I’d rather just pay for another bottle.” He eyed the duplicates suspiciously. “Which was the original one?”
Kurae shrugged and grabbed the neck of one of the bottles, handing it down the line to the prince.
“You sure?”
“No idea,” Kurae answered, shaking his head, “They’re all the same.”
“Except that most of them have been… magicked up,” he muttered, but he took the bottle anyway.
“Duplicated,” War said, watching Pestilence leave and making sure that his best friend did no more unsettling of his drinking-friends on the way, “is not magic. It’s copying.”
“Via magical methods,” Famine grunted.
“Yeah.”
“And a magical being,” Famine added.
“Fam-fam, beer,” War said, sliding another one down to her to get her back into quiet growling mode. He rubbed his chin and leant on the bar, “So let’s get this straight. A magic spaz, also a spaz with magical by-products – but not magical people if they don’t use their magic. Nol, you're an odd boy."
Nol shook his head. “I am not a ‘magic spaz’! I just—”
“Yeah, you don’t like it,” Gylepi grinned, using Nolryn’s head as an arm rest. “Same as you don’t like snakes… Hey, is that a Liquid Sunset?”
Nol pushed the taller archer’s arm from his head, then leant over the bar bench to inspect the bottom row of bottles.
“No,” Gylepi said, pointing Nol in the right direction, “that one. The keg under the bench there.”
The prince’s eyebrows rose slowly as he noticed the distinctive rippled yellow sun painted on the lid. “How in Lin’s name did you score a full keg? That thing is worth a fortune!”
“Why yes, yes it is.” War flashed a winning smile, “But I get paid just to live, so I managed to score one.”
The Own exchanged smug glances, then Nol dug into his pocket and flipped five gold coins onto the bench top. “All right then, quael, pour me one. You’ve taken enough of them at the ‘Thrai, see if you can pour one that’s worth five gold.”
Anganur slapped another five gold on the bar bench. “Likewise.”
Gylepi shook his head. “Didn’t we come here to taste test new booze, not the stuff we already know is good?”
“Once again I am reduced to a serving wench,” War rolled his eyes. “But, as the night is young – jailbait even – I will share my keg of stuff you already know, and then continue to get drunk with you.”
“So, you’re gonna get drunk and bang some jailbait?” A chipper voice asked, as Sex leant over the bar with a smile.
War looked at her, she looked back at him. War raised an eyebrow, she smiled more, “Pesti told me to come and annoy you.” She clapped her hands and pointed at a glass-doored fridge, “Bacardi, barwench!”
Nimay grinned and held up two fingers. She sided with Gylepi on this one, and if someone else already liked it, then she had a better chance of enjoying it herself. Besides, she’d never really been a fan of Liquid Sunsets.
“Oh no you don’t,” Anganur said, “Sunsets were ordered first.”
“Oh psh,” Sex waved her hand and then trust out her chest. “Ladies first, boys”
“She’s got me there, and I’m on the wrong side of the bar to give her a wedgie, so I must obey,” War shrugged as though he were helpless in this matter. “Oh yes, the own, Sex. Sex, this is Nolryn, Nimay, Gylepi, Melraan, Anganur and Kurae.”
“Hi, I won’t remember any of your names for a while,” Sex informed them with a wave.
Nimay had lost her after War had given her name, as she was sure the rest of the guys had as well. Except maybe Anganur.
“I’ll make sure you remember mine, sweetheart.” Yep, that’d be Anganur.
Nimay groaned and hid her face in her hands. There were times when she couldn’t help but be embarrassed that she commanded these guys.
“Aw, that’s cute,” Sex said, sounding genuinely amused. “You’re gonna get a shock, buddy.”
War smirked, but didn’t elaborate, giving Nimay and Sex their drinks, before preparing to make the Liquid Sunsets.
“Thank you!” Sex patted Nimay on the back cheerily, “Don’t get embarrassed for men, you’ll spend your whole life cringing.”
War shook his head slightly, “You know, you’re all perfectly fine talking to the Personifications of War, and Famine and Pestilence, but stick Sex in the room and you all look like you’ve been slapped in the face.”
Melraan gave the purple-haired Force a huffy look. “Sorry if it takes us a moment to get used to the fact that Sex is an actual person. How are those Liquid Sunsets coming?”
War took the hint and got back to his serving.
“Everything you can think of is a person,” Sex told them. “Luck, good and bad, Love, Romance, Dream, Hate, Happiness,” She listed, counting off on her fingers as if she was going to list them all. She pointed at War, “Jerkiness.”
Nimay giggled and took a sip of the new drink handed to her. It was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite pick it. It was probably related to some liquor she’d tried once in Kazin. She hadn’t liked it then, either.
The men were carefully scrutinising War as he tapped out a pair of glasses of Liquid Sunset, and looking at their faces, Nimay could already tell there was no way War was going to win this one.
“This is me getting owned,” War remarked to Sex. “And no one will know it happened.”
Sex looked at the other men’s faces, “Oh, I get the feeling everyone will know.”
War shrugged his head good-naturedly. He could usually take it as much as he dished it out.
“I’d feel sorry for you, but you don’t deserve my sympathy.” Sex put her bottle on the counter and looked at Nimay with a smile. “I'm guessing that's not your kind of drink, hm?”
Nimay shook her head, but shrugged and took another sip anyway. She could learn to like it.
“Well,” Nol began, inspecting his glass thoughtfully, “Wrong glass for a start, but we won’t hold that against you. Kal wouldn’t give up any of those glasses for any amount of money.”
“Hmm,” Anganur agreed with a sage nod, “Not sure they’re the same volume though. That’s a silver off.”
“No handle either: another silver.”
“Too much head: another silver.”
Nimay nudged the prince and pointed at the keg sitting under the bench.
“Ooh yes,” Nol agreed, “Stored under the bench instead of in a cellar: I’d take off two silvers for that.”
“I don’t know about that. It is cooler here than Ni-Yana.”
“True enough… one silver then.”
“What are we down to now? Four gold, six silver?”
The prince nodded and wrapped his fingers around the glass then lifted it in a toast. “Bottoms up,” he declared, then put the glass to his lips.
“That money might just stem the pain of my not being up to par with pouring Liquid Sunsets.” War sighed dramatically, “The one thing in my life I should be good at.”
“Wow,” Sex mused, “War found friends that are just like him. I didn’t think that was possible. In fact, I kind of hoped it wasn’t.”
“They aren’t as batshit as him,” Famine muttered.
“Oh, but being batshit crazy is totally a Force trait,” Sex grinned.
“Hey!” Nol pointed accusingly at the brown-haired Force. “Our kingdom was built on this drink.”
“Exactly,” Anganur agreed, “don’t knock back a Liquid Sunset before you’ve tried it.” He slid his glass down the bench towards Sex, grinning broadly.
“You can’t build a kingdom on a drink, it would sink,” Sex seemed to be holding back a giggle.
“Subject changing there,” War commented.
“I’m not a beer drinker, per say,” Sex admitted, looking closely at the drink that had been pushed towards her.
“You’re right,” Nol said, taking another swig of his favourite brew, “The beer in this world is terrible. This is the real thing though.”
Nimay nodded in agreement, wishing War had brought back some Venom with him instead. Liquid Sunset wasn’t the best drink to start people off on; better to start with something not quite so potent.
“I’m not a beer drinker in my own world either. I only went to bars to drive people wild or give them instant orgasms,” Sex explained, tapping the glass.
“Those were the days,” War smirked.
“I’m too mature for that now, of course,” Sex stuck her tongue out.
“Of course,” Anganur said uncertainly, “Just drink the stuff; I want my glass back.”
“Drink the beer you freak,” Famine grunted, getting herself another beer of her own preferred brand.
Sex rolled her lavender eyes, picking up the glass and taking a mouthful of the amber liquid, replacing the glass on the counter. She held the liquid in her mouth a while, one eyebrow frowning slightly in thought before she swallowed it and pushed the glass back down the counter.
“Not bad, eh?” Anganur said with a grin, taking a thankful swig from his glass, “I mean, considering it’s not worth the full five.”
“Well,” Sex said graciously, “I’d rather drink that than… say… have all my teeth removed with some pliers.”
The six Own riders shook their heads and let out their collective held breaths in disappointment.
“Ah well,” Anganur lamented, “Not for everyone. Bit of an acquired taste, I think. To tell you the truth, it’s a rare foreigner who acquires it first up.”
“I’m a lightweight, I’m sure your drink is very nice.” Sex waved her hand and then looked at it as it glowed dimly, along with the rest of her arm and then body. “Hey, it’s sunset.”
“Oh right,” War reached over and stuck his hand over Nol’s eyes. “You won’t wanna watch this.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Nol agreed, holding his glass up to his lips again.
The rest of the Own fell silent at the spectacle before them, and Nimay looked down at her bangle again.
“You know,” Melraan said casually to her, “That stone of yours is beginning to look mighty ordinary.”
“Hmm…” Nimay nodded and tapped thoughtfully at the yrae stone.
“I don’t want to know,” the prince muttered.
“I was created this way, you know. I can’t control this, so it doesn’t count as magic,” Sex said, reaching behind his back and unclasping his bra so he could remove it now it was no longer needed. “You see, there’s magic you have and then there’s magic that you-”
“Nol doesn’t want to know,” War smirked, leaning back on his side of the bar. “So don’t bother explaining.”
“Someone doesn’t like magic? That’s rare,” Sex folded his bra neatly.
“It still counts in my mind,” Nol argued, rubbing his eyes before opening them again. “I’ll just get—ooh Aeia.” He hastily turned away again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry, I get that reaction from most people,” Sex finished his drink.
“Aren’t you glad I’m relatively normal?” War smirked.
“Except for your wing,” Famine pointed out blandly. “And your obsessiveness with your best friend, and your batshit.”
“We all know ‘normal’ is the Force that doesn’t exist,” Sex smirked. “But especially not for War.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Nol raised his glass and drained the remaining few mouthfuls from it.
“I could go if I make you uncomfortable,” Sex offered.
Nol shook his head with a grin. “No no, I’ll be fine. I’ll just get drunk, that’ll do the trick.”
“Aw, you’re such a gentlemen,” Sex smirked. “Just like War.”
“Don’t insult me by calling me a ‘gentleman’,” War told him with a sideways look. “But if you want to get drunk fast, I’ve got just the brew for you over here…”
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Date: 2006-02-08 06:56 am (UTC)