(Untitled)

[cantdiequiteyet]

If you're surprised to see a pretty blonde girl in white and silver armor and with a giant broadsword appear suddenly in the bar - you've probably not been coming to Milliways for long.

But if you are surprised by this occurrence, take a moment to think of how Teresa might feel. See, five seconds ago she was about to perform the nearest thing her

Comments

[ostro_goth]

By the fire, there is a dark-haired, dark-clad man, pale of face, with a harp, playing a plangent, old-fashioned tune.

He looks up upon her entrance, regarding her from earnest dark eyes.

"Greetings!"

She is clearly a newcomer.

[cantdiequiteyet]

There're a lot of strange things going on in this place. A lot of strange people, and a lot of strange scents and auras that Teresa cannot identify. The man who greeted her, at least, seems one of the lest strange things here.

She turns her head towards him, looking at him out of the side of a bright silver eye, and smiling enigmatically.

"Tell me," she says, "is this the afterlife?"

[ostro_goth]

"For some," he says, "it is. For me, also."

None is ever too young to die, or too innocent.

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa, despite all looks to the contrary, is neither of those.

Her smile turns inwards, to herself as she glances around again.

"Only for some." That would explain why there are none of her kind here. "But who decides who will end up in this one?"

[katyafeline]

A sword?

Katya is instantly jealous. But she's a good little Other, and doesn't attempt to flitch it away. Not even a little.

Olya would be proud. Or, at least, she wouldn't roll her eyes too much.

But now there's a frizzy-haired blonde in what is entirely a cool jeans jacket and enough rings and bracelets and earings to make just about anyone happy eying the newbie, trying to decide what it is, exactly, she's sensing off this gal.

[cantdiequiteyet]

A second into the eyeing process, the eyed newbie turns her head, shaking pale waves of hair back over her shoulder plate, so she can see who it it eyeing her.

She then tilts that head, and looks puzzled for a moment, before her faze relaxes.

"You are not yoma," she says, decisively. "What are you?"

It's not that she's being confrontational. It's just that Teresa never cared enough to learn social skills.

[katyafeline]

"You are not Other." Katya returns, comfortable under scrutiny. "What are you?."

[cantdiequiteyet]

That is the first time, ever, that someone's had to ask that question of her. This amuses Teresa greatly.

"You mean you don't know?"