melodiesofeternity | Raise a Glass [OPEN]

Who: The XV Cast and You!
When: June 6th
Where: Curti Center, Jiminy's Juicery (bar)
What: After saving innocents from the Dream Width, some people just need a drink.
Warnings/Notes: Alcohol consumption, possible violence, whatever people do in bars.

Their first foray into the search and rescue business in the Dream Width had been intense, to say the least. Stressful, heartbreaking, exhausting, and enlightening were other words some might use to describe the experience. After a night of rest and a day to somewhat sort things and people out, the next evening brings about a mighty need to head to the local tavern. Some drink to forget, some drink to remember, some drink to relax. There are even representatives of the Bard's Guild providing live music. You can try to make a request, but chances are they don't know your foreign songs.

Maybe you were invited by one of the excitable young men from Lucis, or maybe you came on your own. There's enough room in the bar for quite a few people, so long as they're of age. Sit right at the bar, or pull up chairs around a table, the choice is yours.

[OoC: Make your own toplevel or tag around. Please put content warnings as necessary. Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Exactly." But that was all he was going to say about it without further prompting.

"Oh? I'm not certain I follow." Words he wasn't familiar with, though he had a guess... he just wanted it confirmed. Better to admit confusion than to make a fool of himself, and Castor generally seemed to understand that her vernacular wasn't universal.

"Like I said; where I'm from, it's a poor man's alcohol. Ye eat whatever ye get yer hands on, and turn whatever'll ferment properly into hooch or th' next best thing." Probably meaning: Drugs. "People with money import from Vylbrand or Ishgard, usually."

She shrugs and knocks back the second shot, though she seems to take the time to actually savour this one.

"Suppose I shouldn't be surprised yer highborn. Ye talk like it, and carry yerself like it, at any rate."

Clarus tips back the glass, but allows the liquid to flow over his tongue at a slower pace this time. The first shot was to start the buzz, any later could be savored.

"I take it you grew up in poverty, then?" He hated to stereotype, but her accent and manner of speaking were indicative of the less-educated which often meant less privileged. "Is life here better for you?"

"From my fifth nameday te nearly my twenty-fifth, aye. War drove my da' and I away from our home an' we settled with some other refugees. It was shite livin, till I started makin' a name for myself in Ul'dah. I was set te be a gladiator, but the adventurin' life took me instead, I suppose."

Castor plays with her shot glass a little. She's not uncomfortable with this topic so much as she's just self-conscious about it; not unlike her first few weeks in Ishgard.

" 'S not much different here, to be honest. I'd made somethin' of meself back home, ye see. Managed to get Da into the city; had some gil to spare, usually. Here's...well, there's much that's familiar, but more that isn't.

"What of you? I'm sure this is a step down from fancy livin'."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Truly he was. The refugee situation in Lucis hadn't been great for some time either, but while trying to solve the problems of the people was a headache, he knew he couldn't possibly hope to sympathize with them. Their pain and struggles were so much more than he could hope to understand.

"You have the opportunity to make something of yourself here as well," he pointed out, though didn't push it further unless she so chose.

"More like falling off a cliff, yes," he agreed. "I was..." How to carefully word this... "I was one of the top-ranked officials of my kingdom. Here I am nothing. I don't resent it, and I know I'll manage, but it's certainly been a change." He chuckled then. "The hardest thing has been leaning to cook for myself, if you can believe it."

"Aye well, I did a bit better than some, really. An' I fully plan on makin' a name for meself here, too! Life ain't worth livin' quietly."

She flags for another drink so she doesn't look even the slightest bit smug at the notion of nobility having to 'rough it' so to speak. "Aye? Ye look like yer handlin' it alright. Least food's easy enough to come by here. Makes for a nice break. Never been much of a cook, meself."

Her proclamation elicited a chuckle from him. "You sound like me in my youth, to an extent. Throw caution to the wind and look for the next great adventure." When had he changed? Oh yes, when they'd lost the war, and when he'd settled down to have a family.

And of course it was about time for a verbal misstep. "I meant no offense, my lady. I don't imagine I could understand what you and yours have been through." But it did present an opportunity... "If you'd indulge me," he began, sliding gil over the bar to pay for Castor's next drink and motion that he wanted one as well, "what steps do you believe could be taken by the aristocracy to alleviate the problems and improve the lives of those such as your family?" His question was sincere, and he tried to make that clear with his tone and turning to face her completely and keep his body language open. Though... it wasn't as though he could use anything she imparted to him. He was dead and their society crumbled. Still, he wanted insight into her life.

"Aye? What stopped ye?"

She nods her thanks for the drink and is halfway through sipping it when Clarus asks his question. She looks at him from the side of her eye, and her gaze is...it is not mistrustful, per say, but it is wary.

"Part with some coin, fer one. I ain't a businesswoman by any stretch, but it seems te me that if ye spend some coin keepin people happy, they'll return it to ye in dignified labor or goods. Elsewise ye see the best and brightest burn themselves out fer scraps, and the rest simply wither away of hunger, or illness or whatever else."

"Obligations. Duty, honor, love, the usual stereotypical things," he waved it off. From his perspective, his life was nothing special. Just a man born into a high station who followed that station without question and never made much of himself aside from what was laid out before him at birth.

He listened intently, but still casually. Really, there was little he could do here. Was there even poverty in Vaikuntha? Something to look into.

"I see," was his response for the moment. Now wasn't the time ti justify what they hadn't done or try to brag about what they had. Instead, he offered a bit of explanation. "We had many war refugees in Lucis. In Insomnia. It was an issue we were never quite able to get on top of, it seemed."

"Huh. Good te know I'm right in avoidin' em then. Most of 'em at any rate," she mutters around finishing her drink. "Never could stand fetters like that."

"Can't speak te yer refugees, really. Same problem at heart, but I'm sure they've got a whole slew o'needs that I can't even ponder on. D'ja ever ask 'em?"

Raise a Glass [OPEN]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject