The Window & The Door
Fiona's been watching the observation window out of the corner of her eye, trying to reconcile the vision of the universe tearing itself to shreds with the occasional patron slipping out the back door onto the shore of a northern lake. Woods. Mountains. Ice and snow.
Fiona has nothing against woods and mountains and snow. But it's not Miami, where even the winters allow for sleeveless dresses and sandals. Snow reminds her of Sarajevo and being belly down in the ruins of what had once been a farmhouse, her cheek pressed to to the cold metal of the rifle, adjusting the sights with numb fingertips... Her mind skitters away from that memory. No, best to stay in here where there's a toasty fire place, good liquor, and any number of interesting people to talk to.
"Excuse me?" The waitrat she's addressing wheels around gracefully, grinning, adjusting the white cotton towel draped over its arm. She hopes he's grinning. Those teeth make her nervous. "Tea?"
The waitrat nods and gestures, small or large?
She ponders. "Bring a pot of good Chai, milk, fixings?"
The rat nods, whiskers twitching, gestures is that all?
"And several cups. In case someone decides to join me." She watches as he disappears in a flurry of tail and ears.
That done, she slips into an empty seat close to the fire, with a low table stacked with several books. Every so often she glances back at the observation window, still bemused and not a little disturbed by the surreality of this place.
[tiny tags: Xaldin, Croup & Vandemar ]
Fiona has nothing against woods and mountains and snow. But it's not Miami, where even the winters allow for sleeveless dresses and sandals. Snow reminds her of Sarajevo and being belly down in the ruins of what had once been a farmhouse, her cheek pressed to to the cold metal of the rifle, adjusting the sights with numb fingertips... Her mind skitters away from that memory. No, best to stay in here where there's a toasty fire place, good liquor, and any number of interesting people to talk to.
"Excuse me?" The waitrat she's addressing wheels around gracefully, grinning, adjusting the white cotton towel draped over its arm. She hopes he's grinning. Those teeth make her nervous. "Tea?"
The waitrat nods and gestures, small or large?
She ponders. "Bring a pot of good Chai, milk, fixings?"
The rat nods, whiskers twitching, gestures is that all?
"And several cups. In case someone decides to join me." She watches as he disappears in a flurry of tail and ears.
That done, she slips into an empty seat close to the fire, with a low table stacked with several books. Every so often she glances back at the observation window, still bemused and not a little disturbed by the surreality of this place.
[tiny tags: Xaldin, Croup & Vandemar ]