All in the blood

[truailligh]

Who: Shirley McAllister; open
What: Drinks & magic at her PoS
Where: Alea Iacta Est
When: Day
Warnings: I'll edit if anything comes up
Notes: First or third, I'll match you

Comments

bluh bluh placeholder cause i need more tags obv.

[purpleprosed]

Rose had past the Alea Iacta numerous times on her various excursions since her arrival. While the establishment itself was interesting, she found little reason to actually venture inside. Well, until today, and the only reason she did was out of pure curiosity and lack of anything else to investigate.

So she strode in through the pub's doors, and as she passed the jukebox the song switched to something a little more appropriate. Or possibly horribly inappropriate, but she just sort of rolled her eyes. If Dave were here he'd say something about irony, she was certain.

Instead of addressing the jukebox, the ghosts, or anything else normal people would see as odd, she was fixated on the bowls on the table.

[truailligh]

The change of music had her looking up with an arch of her eyebrow to the jukebox - the damn thing did as it pleased without her say-so unless she swiftly gave it a thought (something the locals didn't seem to manage too well) but the song wasn't dreadful and sometimes it served her very well to hear whatever it deemed appropriate.

The girl who walked in was one she'd spoken to briefly and she quickly reached for the virgin cocktail recipes, thumbing through them for options. Yes she could dream the finished article up but she'd taken the time to learn how to mix drinks with an artistic flourish and rattle of whatever bracelets she had on and so she would continue that way but it seemed something else had caught this girl's eye and she smiled, picking the knife up to spin it in her hand.

"Fancy a demonstration of how old blood magic works?" She asked in lieu of a greeting, painted lips curling into a smile as she moved one of the bloodied bowls to one side for later.

[purpleprosed]

She continued to stare, allowing her eyes to wander over to the bowl that had been moved, then to the knife the woman was spinning in her hand. Shirley was her name, if she recalled correctly. The woman that wasn't fond of cats. In fact she didn't seem to be fond of anything and maybe that's why she didn't write her off as an annoyance initially.

"Old blood magic?" she repeated, "Implying there is a new blood magic?" though it was posed as a question, she really didn't expect an answer to her sarcastic remark, "What do I have to do? And will I get blood on my new dress? I can't have that."

[truailligh]

Oh it was nice to meet something that looked so young that looked like it had a little bit of snark behind it; too many of the girls here were vapid, content to flap around and get themselves into situations they couldn't deal with, letting boys break their hearts. It was embarrassing really.

"Well old is perhaps a misnomer but then again some people here have very strange ideas of magic and blood and all sorts of things - the blood magic I do is the one passed down through generations of my family," she explained and the art of scrying - for that was all Breithniú was - was very old indeed. "As long as you roll up your sleeves, I promise I won't let you bloody the dress. I'm a fashionista, it'd be an unforgivable sin to do something like that even if I think you could be in something more fetching." She smiled again and held out the free hand so that Rose might hand hers over, little bowl positioned to catch the blood from the eventual cut.

[dirt_heart]

Kelly takes walks daily, both for exercise and to keep an eye on the city. Things change, as more people arrive, and he likes to know about it as soon as possible, even if he rarely talks to many of them. He keeps several different routes, and one of them goes past Shirley's pub. He doesn't always drop in, does often have places to be, the restaurant or elsewhere, but today he thinks he just might fancy a pint.

He makes a face at the song the jukebox switches to as he enters, but leaves it to Shirley to sort out, making a beeline to the bar when he sees her there.

He smiles a little at a bowls. "I wonder if they sell those at Ikea, sometimes. Seems to be something of a staple item." Amongst the right sort of people, anyway.

[truailligh]

"Hi Kelly," she greets with a smile - someone she actually like seeing which says a lot because she generally does roll her eyes an awful lot at the others here and some of the people she got on well with have long since disappeared. Interesting selection there jukebox even if she has no idea who or what that band are. Sounds like something she used to hear at the student union though, right kind of beat for drunk people and glosticks.

"I think Ikea is just unpronouncable stuff that always seems to have a part missing when you take it home and open it up," she picks up one of the bowls and studies it. "Lots of people use silver but," banshees have an allergy and burn their skin if they touch it, "pewter always caught my eye."

[dirt_heart]

He smiles, pulls up a stool. "I've always quite liked Ikea." He knows the old complaints, but maybe he's just been lucky with them - never had a piece missing. "Can't have too much of it, though. Takes all the character out of a room." Though the vaguely minimalist air to his restaurant might have given a hint towards how he liked to decorate.

"Were you planning a demonstration for your customers? I was just thinking about having a pint, but this looks interesting."

[truailligh]

"Some of it's nice but then again after living in a student flat for years that was out of an Ikea catalogue it wears a little thin, especially when you can't change anything." At most they'd been allowed to replace broken fixtures, rip up a carpet and paint to freshen up - it's the sign of a spoiled girl, she knows that but it's why she likes the mix and match of the flat above her, something with character and a story.

There's a little smile on her face when she replies. "I've been practicing on them - I think they just think they're indulging a newcomer," even if calling herself newcomer after eight months doesn't sit right, "just Breithniú mainly to see if I can find out anything interesting. I did show them some illusions once or twice."

She's performed the nastier spells too because they're stupid enough to give her all the blood she needs without hesitation. They haven't come back but it served her purpose and that's all that matters.

[flensing]

Without much else to keep her mind from wandering along the fresh engravings of pain and sorrow, Anna has taken up an interest in exploring the various restaurants and bars that the city has to offer. There is something... unsatisfactory, in being able to dream up any sort of food she might like, something cheap in the reprieve after she had been denied for so long. So could glut herself into sickness, but where would be the joy in it?

Perhaps she might not have even noticed the Alea if the door hadn't been open, if the smell of food hadn't reached her, she peeks inside uncertainly. But there are people eating and chatting, it does not look private, so she decides to investigate.

She jumps noticeably when the jukebox changes and she stares at the thing in horror for a moment before edging away from it, taking a seat at the bar where she covers her face with one hand, hiding in her dark curls.

[truailligh]

When you're so used to something - and when it's the only part of home that you have - it's very easy to forget who is used to something and who isn't. Magic, the supernatural, the silly jukebox are all things she takes for granted and she'd honestly be a little lost without them here.

She's just returning from handing over a Ploughman's lunch to a local when she catches the newcomer at the bar, looking between her and the jukebox and on the return trip to the bar she gives said jukebox a kick. Scaring away customers, really jukebox, it's just rude and not very classy at all, shame on you.

"Excuse me?" Peering at the face or rather at the curls, the music still on but quieter now, she frowns. "Are you alright?"

[flensing]

Anna's shoulders tense and she lifts her head right away, giving Shirley a rather gaunt look. But then, that's normal for Anna, there's no erasing the haunted look in her eyes, even if it could occasionally be eased. She is far from all right, always on edge, waiting for the sword dangling above her head to fall. Still, she stares at Shirley for a moment and then answers,

"Yes, I'm fine."

She's tucked her hands beneath the bar, has anxiously begun to turn a knife in her hands. A silver blade with a white handle, it had been Lucie's for many years, her only defense against a demon that had never existed.

"I was thinking of having lunch here, if you've any recommendations."

[truailligh]

She holds her hands out in a placating gesture. There's something unsettling about that look and she looks away under the guise of finding a menu - she probably knows the list off by heart now but she dislikes making it obvious when she's uncomfortable and so she finds one and thumbs through it.

"I've got the normal British pub menu - fish and chips with mushy peas, steak and kidney pie, ploughman's lunch, shepherd's pie, cottage pie, pasties, bangers and mash," the thought of ever eating any of that makes her feel sick because it's all so stodgy and fattening to her, "and I've got sandwiches too, a million and one different fillings. When it comes to drinks, trust me, I have everything."

She even has blood. You know. Just in case any vampires or demons stumble across her place.

[withpuppyeyes]

Josh stepped into the bar simply because he saw it on the way home several times, and figured why the hell not? He hadn't gone out for a drink since he arrived, and he figured he should probably be a bit more social if people were willing to help him on the whole werewolf front. Even if like maybe one or two people knew. He glanced around before moving over to the jukebox.

Which it turned to a rather ironic song that made him stare at it in a level of hatred. He could have disrespect for a machine all he wanted.

[truailligh]

Was Shirley smirking a little as she handed over a pint to a local? Perhaps just a little. After all it was a song she'd heard a lot back in London either from it being put on the jukebox selection or from whenever a pack of London werewolves had roamed in. A shame that wolves didn't prick Driuch the same way magic did; no sense in trying to jump to a conclusion here but still, the jukebox could be a bit of a strange object and it knew a lot if only from extended contact with more or less everything around the pub.

She caught the newcomer's look and then glanced over to the jukebox. "You shouldn't mind that thing - it's been around so much magic that it's almost sentient and likes to think that it's got a sense of humour. If you think at it, it'll change the song or shut up altogether." And to demonstrate, she concentrated and the jukebox changed track.

Sorry - Shirley was more than a little bit of a bitch, it just depended on how sneaky she felt.

"Anyway, what can I get you?"

[withpuppyeyes]

He paused to listen to the song for a moment before sighing. Oh, ha ha. Werewolf jokes. That was original. Even if only a few people knew. He puffed out his cheeks and sighed, looking over at her with a smile. Try to be friendly, Josh. She isn't making it uncomfortable on purpose. Right?

"Uh, well, what do you have?" Josh asked as he looked around. "The usually things a bar has?"

[truailligh]

"Sorry," she said - but really, she wasn't. "That thing in the corner really does have a mind of its own. Probably thinks it's being friendly and this place has seen it's fair share of the supernatural - Promenade's the first place where the clientele have been almost exclusively human."

She reached over to pat a hand though because she was very good at making people believe that she was nice when she wanted to be.

"The usual things a British pub has. Stodgy foods, snacks, wide range of alcohol. Feeling brave enough to try something new?"