Diamond City, on Bomber Star: Baelfael and Moira's date.
Where: Diamond City, at the restaurant Drake's Grill
Who: Baelfael and Moira.
When: Shortly before the Angel's Call, in this post: http://community.livejournal.com/aleajactaest_rp/8349.html
What: Under the nose of her overprotective brother, Baelfael whisks Moira away from Bomberman's house for a date.
Status: Complete.
Moira looked up skeptically at the flashing neon sign, which outlined the words "Drake's Grill" in crisp red against the star-speckled sky. "This is the 'romantic restaurant' you wanted to take me to?" She was wearing a shimmering turquoise dress she had bought earlier that day - Baelfael thought it matched her hair nicely (and her hips too, but he wasn't about to tell her that). "I'm surprised you'd risk Bem's wrath for this, Bael," she said mischievously, and poked him in the chest. "I had better enjoy myself, tonight. Or Bem might somehow find out about this incident."
Baelfael smirked, and offered her his arm. "You're just as guilty as I am, dear Moira," he said, and as she took his arm they ascended the steps together. A bell chimed as he pushed open the door and held it open for her - she gave him a smile as she passed through, and he took the opportunity to slap her lightly on the rear, and smirked in response to her expression of righteous indignation.
The restaurant seemed, as Baelfael said, a contradiction to its name. The walls were made of well-polished boards, the wood gleaming softly in the flickering light from the candles set at every table. There was no electronic lightning, and the floor was covered in soft velvet carpet, a forested green in colour. The smell of cooking meat hung thick in the air, cloying the nostrils and lending an earthy feel for the dozens of sharply-dressed patrons.
As Moira and Baelfael looked around, a waiter with a greased handlebar mustache stepped over and took a bow. He was a thin, sallow man, with a towel thrown stereotypically over one arm. "Hello, do you have a reservation?" he asked politely. Despite his slightly unhealthy complexion, his voice was soft and pleasing to the ear, and they heard nothing but warmth in his tone.
Baelfael looped an arm around Moira and smiled. "Yes. Registered under fire and ice, thank you."
The eyebrow of the waiter quirked, but as he looked at the list, he looked up and nodded. "Interesting name. But yes, you're here. Allow me to show you to your seat, Mr. and Mrs. Fire and Ice."
They allowed themselves to be seated, and Moira looked around curiously while Baelfael perused the menu. "You know," she said, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "This place isn't half bad, Bael." She smiled. "Thanks for bringing me... you know we spent far too much time cooped up in Bem's ship."
Baelfael gave a low laugh. "Tell me about it. It was hard to have so much as a simple conversation without Behemos breathing over our shoulder the whole time."
Moira gave a sly glance. "Well, we'll have to enjoy it while we can, hm?"
Baelfael caught the eye of the waiter and signaled for a bottle of wine. "Ain't that the truth. You old enough to drink, Moira dear?" he said, with a sideways grin.
She swatted lightly at him, and giggled as she placed her head on folded hands. "You know I'm a lot older than I look," she pouted, but her eyes held his coyly.
"I should certainly hope so!" Baelfael laughed.
"Hey!" Moira said indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I don't want to be dating an old woman, do I?" he said, as he poured a glass of wine for her and handed it to her.
Moira took the glass and tilted it back and forth, watching the candlelight shine through the liquid. "Hmm, I don't recall ever saying we were officially dating, you know..."
Baelfael snorted as he poured his own glass. "As if it could be anything else. Women find me simply irresistible, I'm afraid."
"Funny, I seem to be the only one around," Moira grinned. "And I had better be," she added darkly, with a pointed glance.
Baelfael, wisely, said nothing, merely smiled as he took a drink of his wine.
They ate their meals in the light of candles and cheerful conversation, discussing their recent ventures, and how good it was to see Bomberman and Pommy again. Moira ate lightly from a seafood chowder, which Baelfael raised an eyebrow as he ate his own grilled pheasant. When Moira inquired as to his look, Baelfael responded curtly, "I've never been a fish man."
As they finished up the bottle of wine, their meals empty before them, their conversation flowed as easily and had the warm heart of the wine they worked their way through. Moira's leg, slowly but surely, had worked its way under the table and rubbed against Baelfael's.
Baelfael gazed merrily across the table as he took a drink of his wine. "You know, Behemos would positively kill me if he saw this, hm?"
Moira giggled girlishly. "He'd kill both of us, I think."
The bell rang above the door as it opened, and they both started like criminals and stood up straight, and both shot guilty glances towards the door, only to see a group of beefy machos enter. They both breathed sighs of relief, and looked sheepishly at each other, which stretched into a silence.
Baelfael drained the last of his wine at length, and smiled at Moira, taking her hand on the table, twined his fingers in hers. "Well, I suppose we should be going, Moira," he said with a sigh. "Thank you for a truly wonderful evening, my little ice princess," he said, and raising her hand, kissed her fingers gently.
Moira smiled, and sketched a small curtsy. "My pleasure, Crimson Flame. I look forward to us meeting sometime soon," a smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe with Bomberman... does he have a girlfriend, do you know?"
Baelfael ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully, then grinned. "Well, he seemed to have a thing for Zhael when I was talking to him through the CosmoJournal. I wonder if we could entice her into coming into town for a while?" He smirked. "I'm not Baelfael matchmaker extraordinaire for no reason, after all. Come on," he said, and lifted a smiling Moira and put an arm about her waist. He knelt his head and kissed her lightly on the top of her head, and walked with her to the waiter.
"Check, please," Moira asked coquettishly.
The waiter nodded, and punched a button. The receipt came out, and he handed it to Baelfael. "That's 698 BOM, sir."
Baelfael winced, and reached into his trouser pocket for his wallet. His expression quickly changed to one of horror as he patted the other pocket, then his back pocket, and checked the other one once more. He looked to the waiter, and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry man, I forgot my wallet. Can you put it on my tab?"
The waiter stiffened. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't carry tabs here."
"Can I do some dishes or something later to make up the money?"
"We do not accept labour, sir."
"Well then, I'll pay you back tomorrow," Baelfael said irritably. Moira rolled her eyes, sensing the beginning of a testosterone-driven showdown.
The waiter's eyes narrowed. "It's ungrateful irresponsible patrons like you that are the reason people cannot be trusted to have tabs, or work respectably, or be held to loan."
Baelfael drew himself up, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Are you saying I have no honour?"
The waiter got up in his face. "More than that! It is because of scoundrels like you that our society is on the brink, freeloaders who just scrounge from the table scraps of others, from hardworking citizens like myself! I have a wife and children to feed, do you give any consideration to them when you think about walking out here without paying! Because of people like you, people die in the streets! Because of people like you, there's crime! Because of people like you, there is wrong in the world!"
It seemed to Baelfael that there was a queer glow in the man's eye, an inner fire that seemed not of his own. As such, he had an inkling of warning. He pushed Moira off his hand and pushed here out the door. "Stay down, Moira!"
A moment later, the waiter had sprung an enormous bomb, far more than his own energy should've been able to produce, and flung it at Baelfael.
There was a coiling, an instantaneous wrapping of fire around Baelfael, erupting in a crown of flame, as he stood there transformed as an Elemental Knight. He caught the bomb in his hands, and with a quick rhythm and drawing of the Fire, sucked the strength from it and crushed it to ash.
The waiter was just summoning another bomb, when Baelfael reared back and punched him in the nose, to the background of patrons screaming. The waiter fell like a sack of limp potatoes, and Baelfael turned and dodged out the door, scooping up Moira and practically flying down the streets to a nearby park, where he stopped for a moment.
"What the hell happened there, Baelfael?" Moira demanded, confused and a little frightened.
Baelfael shook his head, his features masked by his Knight gear. "I have no idea... he just, unleashed. There's no way a man like that could draw upon that kind of power, even a Bomber. It came out of nowhere. Lemme talk to the others," he said, and reaching into his armour drew out his CosmoJournal.
"Well... wasn't that the worst ending to a perfect night," Moira said sulkily as Baelfael flipped open his CJ.
Baelfael swore, and wrote a quick message into his CJ.
"What?" Moira asked curiously.
"Serious business came up. I gotta take you home, Moira. Stay tight with Bomberman, we don't know what the deal is," Baelfael said, and scooping her up raced down the road back to Bomberman's place.
"What is it?" she said, more insistently.
"Something to do with the Angel," he grimaced. "And knowing her, it won't be good."
Who: Baelfael and Moira.
When: Shortly before the Angel's Call, in this post: http://community.livejournal.com/aleajactaest_rp/8349.html
What: Under the nose of her overprotective brother, Baelfael whisks Moira away from Bomberman's house for a date.
Status: Complete.
Moira looked up skeptically at the flashing neon sign, which outlined the words "Drake's Grill" in crisp red against the star-speckled sky. "This is the 'romantic restaurant' you wanted to take me to?" She was wearing a shimmering turquoise dress she had bought earlier that day - Baelfael thought it matched her hair nicely (and her hips too, but he wasn't about to tell her that). "I'm surprised you'd risk Bem's wrath for this, Bael," she said mischievously, and poked him in the chest. "I had better enjoy myself, tonight. Or Bem might somehow find out about this incident."
Baelfael smirked, and offered her his arm. "You're just as guilty as I am, dear Moira," he said, and as she took his arm they ascended the steps together. A bell chimed as he pushed open the door and held it open for her - she gave him a smile as she passed through, and he took the opportunity to slap her lightly on the rear, and smirked in response to her expression of righteous indignation.
The restaurant seemed, as Baelfael said, a contradiction to its name. The walls were made of well-polished boards, the wood gleaming softly in the flickering light from the candles set at every table. There was no electronic lightning, and the floor was covered in soft velvet carpet, a forested green in colour. The smell of cooking meat hung thick in the air, cloying the nostrils and lending an earthy feel for the dozens of sharply-dressed patrons.
As Moira and Baelfael looked around, a waiter with a greased handlebar mustache stepped over and took a bow. He was a thin, sallow man, with a towel thrown stereotypically over one arm. "Hello, do you have a reservation?" he asked politely. Despite his slightly unhealthy complexion, his voice was soft and pleasing to the ear, and they heard nothing but warmth in his tone.
Baelfael looped an arm around Moira and smiled. "Yes. Registered under fire and ice, thank you."
The eyebrow of the waiter quirked, but as he looked at the list, he looked up and nodded. "Interesting name. But yes, you're here. Allow me to show you to your seat, Mr. and Mrs. Fire and Ice."
They allowed themselves to be seated, and Moira looked around curiously while Baelfael perused the menu. "You know," she said, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "This place isn't half bad, Bael." She smiled. "Thanks for bringing me... you know we spent far too much time cooped up in Bem's ship."
Baelfael gave a low laugh. "Tell me about it. It was hard to have so much as a simple conversation without Behemos breathing over our shoulder the whole time."
Moira gave a sly glance. "Well, we'll have to enjoy it while we can, hm?"
Baelfael caught the eye of the waiter and signaled for a bottle of wine. "Ain't that the truth. You old enough to drink, Moira dear?" he said, with a sideways grin.
She swatted lightly at him, and giggled as she placed her head on folded hands. "You know I'm a lot older than I look," she pouted, but her eyes held his coyly.
"I should certainly hope so!" Baelfael laughed.
"Hey!" Moira said indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I don't want to be dating an old woman, do I?" he said, as he poured a glass of wine for her and handed it to her.
Moira took the glass and tilted it back and forth, watching the candlelight shine through the liquid. "Hmm, I don't recall ever saying we were officially dating, you know..."
Baelfael snorted as he poured his own glass. "As if it could be anything else. Women find me simply irresistible, I'm afraid."
"Funny, I seem to be the only one around," Moira grinned. "And I had better be," she added darkly, with a pointed glance.
Baelfael, wisely, said nothing, merely smiled as he took a drink of his wine.
They ate their meals in the light of candles and cheerful conversation, discussing their recent ventures, and how good it was to see Bomberman and Pommy again. Moira ate lightly from a seafood chowder, which Baelfael raised an eyebrow as he ate his own grilled pheasant. When Moira inquired as to his look, Baelfael responded curtly, "I've never been a fish man."
As they finished up the bottle of wine, their meals empty before them, their conversation flowed as easily and had the warm heart of the wine they worked their way through. Moira's leg, slowly but surely, had worked its way under the table and rubbed against Baelfael's.
Baelfael gazed merrily across the table as he took a drink of his wine. "You know, Behemos would positively kill me if he saw this, hm?"
Moira giggled girlishly. "He'd kill both of us, I think."
The bell rang above the door as it opened, and they both started like criminals and stood up straight, and both shot guilty glances towards the door, only to see a group of beefy machos enter. They both breathed sighs of relief, and looked sheepishly at each other, which stretched into a silence.
Baelfael drained the last of his wine at length, and smiled at Moira, taking her hand on the table, twined his fingers in hers. "Well, I suppose we should be going, Moira," he said with a sigh. "Thank you for a truly wonderful evening, my little ice princess," he said, and raising her hand, kissed her fingers gently.
Moira smiled, and sketched a small curtsy. "My pleasure, Crimson Flame. I look forward to us meeting sometime soon," a smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe with Bomberman... does he have a girlfriend, do you know?"
Baelfael ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully, then grinned. "Well, he seemed to have a thing for Zhael when I was talking to him through the CosmoJournal. I wonder if we could entice her into coming into town for a while?" He smirked. "I'm not Baelfael matchmaker extraordinaire for no reason, after all. Come on," he said, and lifted a smiling Moira and put an arm about her waist. He knelt his head and kissed her lightly on the top of her head, and walked with her to the waiter.
"Check, please," Moira asked coquettishly.
The waiter nodded, and punched a button. The receipt came out, and he handed it to Baelfael. "That's 698 BOM, sir."
Baelfael winced, and reached into his trouser pocket for his wallet. His expression quickly changed to one of horror as he patted the other pocket, then his back pocket, and checked the other one once more. He looked to the waiter, and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry man, I forgot my wallet. Can you put it on my tab?"
The waiter stiffened. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't carry tabs here."
"Can I do some dishes or something later to make up the money?"
"We do not accept labour, sir."
"Well then, I'll pay you back tomorrow," Baelfael said irritably. Moira rolled her eyes, sensing the beginning of a testosterone-driven showdown.
The waiter's eyes narrowed. "It's ungrateful irresponsible patrons like you that are the reason people cannot be trusted to have tabs, or work respectably, or be held to loan."
Baelfael drew himself up, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Are you saying I have no honour?"
The waiter got up in his face. "More than that! It is because of scoundrels like you that our society is on the brink, freeloaders who just scrounge from the table scraps of others, from hardworking citizens like myself! I have a wife and children to feed, do you give any consideration to them when you think about walking out here without paying! Because of people like you, people die in the streets! Because of people like you, there's crime! Because of people like you, there is wrong in the world!"
It seemed to Baelfael that there was a queer glow in the man's eye, an inner fire that seemed not of his own. As such, he had an inkling of warning. He pushed Moira off his hand and pushed here out the door. "Stay down, Moira!"
A moment later, the waiter had sprung an enormous bomb, far more than his own energy should've been able to produce, and flung it at Baelfael.
There was a coiling, an instantaneous wrapping of fire around Baelfael, erupting in a crown of flame, as he stood there transformed as an Elemental Knight. He caught the bomb in his hands, and with a quick rhythm and drawing of the Fire, sucked the strength from it and crushed it to ash.
The waiter was just summoning another bomb, when Baelfael reared back and punched him in the nose, to the background of patrons screaming. The waiter fell like a sack of limp potatoes, and Baelfael turned and dodged out the door, scooping up Moira and practically flying down the streets to a nearby park, where he stopped for a moment.
"What the hell happened there, Baelfael?" Moira demanded, confused and a little frightened.
Baelfael shook his head, his features masked by his Knight gear. "I have no idea... he just, unleashed. There's no way a man like that could draw upon that kind of power, even a Bomber. It came out of nowhere. Lemme talk to the others," he said, and reaching into his armour drew out his CosmoJournal.
"Well... wasn't that the worst ending to a perfect night," Moira said sulkily as Baelfael flipped open his CJ.
Baelfael swore, and wrote a quick message into his CJ.
"What?" Moira asked curiously.
"Serious business came up. I gotta take you home, Moira. Stay tight with Bomberman, we don't know what the deal is," Baelfael said, and scooping her up raced down the road back to Bomberman's place.
"What is it?" she said, more insistently.
"Something to do with the Angel," he grimaced. "And knowing her, it won't be good."