vivala | Hospitality

Entry tags:

atom | ou

Hospitality

-1: During the Imperial attacks on Flotsam or the Mines-

Certainly, it was very important that the Corsairs fight to protect their own forces, but not all Corsairs are fighters.

On a quiet Wednesday night, off the main strip of Elysium where all the casinos and brothels and such were that all the rich tourists frequented, there was a little bar. It didn't really have anything about it that made it stand out, but something about the Laughing Toadstool (The name of the bar, according to the sign over the door.) that made it feel more welcoming the more tired you were. It was a place that called out to weary travelers of all sorts. It was a warm and welcoming looking building.

Imperial nobles, looking for depraved excess and debauchery, usually ignored it entirely, but the Laughing Toadstool always did steady business with the locals. Partially because anyone who wasn't a noble in the Empire was probably pretty tired, but there was more to it than that.

In more revolutionary circles, it was understood that the Laughing Toadstool was a place of sanctuary. A place where you could go to find a friendly ear, or even (if you needed it) a place to hide for a day or two.

Whatever your reasoning for being here, the owner of the place always greeted newcomers from behind the bar with a smile.

"Welcome, welcome! Please take a seat! Can I get you something to drink?"

-2: After the attacks are fended off-

After major Corsair operations, the Laughing Toadstool usually hosted some kind of event. A wine tasting, or live music, or dancers...something along those lines. The Corsairs usually needed to either celebrate their great victories, or to mourn their tragic losses, and here was a good place to do it.

As rumor had it it had been a fighting retreat on all sides, Iren figured they wouldn't really be in the mood to party too hard. She had hired some musicians, but the mood for the night was sentimental and full of longing. A lot of love songs about the "one that got away".

Eventually, someone came in that she recognized and her normal veneer of cheerful professionalism cracked. She pulled them aside with a look of concern.

"I haven't heard any news yet. What happened at Flotsam? Do we know, yet?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

After the escape from the mines, it was decided that people best split into groups and go in different directions to avoid detection. Atom was told the Laughing Toadstool was a place he and a few mine workers with him could lay low until further instruction. It took some wandering to find it, and he wasn't entirely sure they had the right place until Iren asked one of the mine workers about the battle. "You should ask the kid for information," the worker suggested to her, gesturing towards the shortest member of their little escapee group.

Atom hesitated in the doorway, remembering his appearance. He had washed the dirt from the mine off his body, but his baggy shirt still had its sleeves torn off and he was barefoot. Maybe he should have knocked on the backdoor instead. At least the mine workers probably passed as servants and staff.

Iren looked at Atom and immediately felt her heart break. What was this child doing with resistance fighters? He didn’t even look old enough to shave!

Still, they couldn’t just stand here in the doorway without looking suspicious. She waved the group in, Atom included, and set a waitress about getting everyone some food. In short order, they were just another group (very dirty) customers.

An influx of dancers from one of the brothels on the main drag who had just finished their shift and also wanted dinner kept Iren busy for a while, but a few minutes later she discreetly rejoined the party of Corsairs.

She looked to Atom, expectantly. Apparently he was the one with news. She kept her voice low as she asked, “Well? What happened?”

The workers started to truly relax when the food was served. Several of them downed their water quickly, parched from the stress and strain of their escape. Seeing as they were in a restaurant in a highly populated area, Atom went ahead and sipped his water and ate a little of the food. He had a feeling that it would put everyone else more at ease to see their smallest party member eat something than sit through the explanation that he didn't technically need to eat. Somehow, the water seems to taste better to him than usual.

Iren returned to the table to ask again about what happened. Atom started by explaining, "I was in the Hesaeth mines like the rest of our group during the battle, so I didn't get to witness what happened to Flotsam directly. But I can tell you what little I was told."

The second round was mead, for those that looked old enough to drink it. Business is business, but after everything these people had been through, Iren figured they could use a drink.

She nodded, though she had to admit she was a little less interested in a purely military target. "Heseath too."

"Did you hear the details of any of the pre-battle plans?" Atom asked. He might has well start comparing notes from the beginning.

The taste of mead brought a joyful tear to the one of the old mine worker's eyes. The others sitting closest to him slapped him on the back and the group started to clink glasses and smile. Long satisfied sighs and comments about the delicious taste were exchanged. There was nothing like a stark reminder about their mortality to encourage a little extra gratitude for simple things like good drink.

“Do I look like a soldier to you?”

She waved the question aside before anyone could answer it. Corsairs could rarely be judged by their appearance. “Nevermind. No, I didn’t hear anything. I don’t need a blow by blow, I just want to know how likely we are to face reprisals out here, whether from direct action or just from angry soldiers looking to let off some steam.”

If soldiers came in and wrecked the place, realistically there wasn’t much she could do about it.

He wasn't sure how to answer whether she looked like a soldier. Most countries in his world had at least a couple divisions of robot soldiers, and they came in all kinds of shapes. She waved off the question and clarified. He had to reconsider what he knew for a moment. He hadn't thought about it through the lens of repercussions yet. Not so soon after finally reaching a safe place.

"In the Heseath mines the soldiers bombarded by air and by foot invasion at the same time. A number of the soldiers were trapped in the tunnels by the Corsairs, but after seeing how many soldiers were nearly crushed by the army's own bombing... I don't know if the Empire will commit to saving them. I'd expect some soldiers to be upset at how their comrades were treated."

As for Flotsam. His knowledge was limited but...

"I think the soldiers might be happier with the results they got against Flotsam. A number of the ships were sent away to hide before the battle even begun."

"I don't think there was any avoiding the mine situation getting ugly..." she muttered, but perked up at the news about Flotsam.

"Still, avoiding a fight where we can is probably for the best, right?"

In her mind, there's still a hope, however distant, that the revolution won't involve any despoiled cities or massacres.

Atom's gaze drops to his plate on the table. He hates to have to tell her this when there's a spark of hope in her voice.

"A very large aerial fleet showed up to attack Flotsam. There's word of some kind of... powerful sorceress too. They burned a lot of ships. I don't know the exact numbers- I think they're still counting the people who were injured or lost. Right now they're busy with recovery and regrouping."

He realizes it sounds like a complete massacre and he tries to clarify, looking back up into her eyes. "Many survived too but from what I was told... It sounds like the Imperials won this time."

Iren sighed. "Dammit..."

That's what she got for getting her hopes up. Still, she had to keep thinking they'd come out on top somehow or what was the POINT of all this?

"Well, no point in worrying about it right now. For now, just rest and eat. No one leaves here hungry. That much, at least, I can do."

She has a point, or what he thinks she's getting at makes sense. They should try to be logical about this instead of dreading the final call.

"Maybe things will look better when they've finished accounting for everyone and everything that happened," he says, trying to reassure both her and himself.

He glances at the mine workers who had escaped with him. They're all finally smiling. "Thank you for your hospitality," he says to Iren. "The others are still worn out from the escape and trip over here, but if there's anything you could use some help with around the restaurant please let me know."

Iren smiled at Aston for a moment, then reached over and ruffled his hair fondly.

“If we had more people like you around, maybe things wouldn’t be so messy right now.”

He gives her a shy smile and laughs at the affectionate head pat.

"Well, the Corsairs ought to help each other out right? Even if it's just doing chores to keep things running." He doesn't say the name aloud, mouthing it instead so she can see.

That's right. Out of all the people at this table, it's the smallest one who is a member.

"I meant in the world in general. People who were eager to help each other."

Goodness, they're recruiting them younger than ever. Iren felt a moment of worry for the boy, which she did her best to keep off her face.

"Just. Be careful. We can't afford to lose people."

"Don't worry. I'm sturdier than I look," he says.

The worker sitting next to Atom overhears and leans over to pat him on the head and announce his endorsement of Atom's abilities. "This kid helped us narrowly escape! Would you believe he can fly? You should see it! Fire shoots from his feet! That's why he's barefoot."

Atom laughs a little painfully. "I'm just happy we all got out. And normally, I do wear shoes. Sorry for coming in here barefoot by the way."

The foxkin woman looks exhausted, sipping slowly at her wine with a faraway look in her eyes when Iren approaches her with that question. Deedee shakes her head.

"Everyone I patched up said I should have seen what they did to the Imps, but I had to patch up a LOT of people bragging about how the Imps got the worst of it," she says. "Still, they tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat. That's how this waltz goes, right?"

Iren sat down across from her. “Sure, on the front. But when you win out there, frustrated officers come back here looking to let some steam off.”

If nothing else, she’d want to put away the nice plates before someone started a brawl. It wasn’t very common in this part of town, but it wasn’t unheard of, either.

“They expected no resistance and got a bloody nose,” Deedee says, pouring herself a glass of cider. “I expect some of the imp soldiers will be in a fighting mood, yes. Looking for someone smaller to pick on.”

She sighs, then raises her glass. “I so vow unto thee that I shall make such fools of these tyrants as to leave no doubt they are in the wrong, and may prosperity come to me for such, but humiliation and a scattering of all I can grasp if I fail to in good faith…”

It sounds like a prayer - a vow.

Physically nothing changed, but just for a moment it felt to Deedee like the world was holding its breath as her heart was weighed in judgment by an unseen force.

Iren sniffed, then said “That’s quite enough or that!” and the strange feeling abruptly vanished.

“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, but I won’t have guests swearing their own downfall in my home.”

She’s felt that feeling before though. When she made such promises to one of the Fourteen, and they chose to answer.

Deedee shudders, tails corkscrewing, before she answers.

“Of course, to sacrifice without prayer or to consult the gods without sacrifice is folly,” she quotes. “I was renewing my vow, and so far Sylphan seems to think I’ve been doing my part making the enemies of the Namers look like idiots.”

Unspoken, for now, was her what the fuuuuuck?! Instead, she asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have clerical training, at all?”

Edited 2024-10-05 15:14 (UTC)

How the hell could she answer that surprisingly complicated question?

“…Not in the traditional sense, but I know a guy.”

That strange feeling returned, but less focused, with an aura of grumpiness surrounding her. Iren ignored it.

Much like any big military operation, the defense of Flotsam and the mines took place over multiple days, and those that participated had to take care not to wear themselves out, especially those that had been helping set-up beforehand.

As usual, Nephenee got that memo, and then proceeded to ball it up and toss it in the metaphorical trash bin. There was too much that needed doing, too many people that needed help, not enough time to rest. Only the fact she was quite used to running on little sleep during military exercises back home kept her going strong as long as she did.

Eventually, though, things calmed down for her group, and they went to cool off in nearby Elysium, the group deciding on some place she'd vaguely heard of, but never been to. The Sentinel had never been one to drink much, preferring to stay alert, but she found herself dragged along anyway. If anything, the promise of a hot meal she didn't have to prepare was a good incentive...

Fast-forward to the present. A group of Corsairs entered the bar, looking tired and hungry. The usuals greeted Iren warmly, if with slightly less vigour than normal, and as they started placing orders, one haggard fellow by the name of Grimshaw Laffite came up to the barkeep to answer her question, and doffed his hat respectfully. "Long days, Iren. Only here for a spell, but we're wearing 'em down."

The one-eyed Corsair put in his usual, and nodded towards a newcomer in the bunch, a tall woman with long, green hair still in her blue armour that had shuffled off towards a corner seat. "See the lass there? One of them offworlders, name's Nephenee. Real hard worker, fantastic fighter, but methinks she's pushed herself too hard." His gruff voiced belied some respect, though, even as he chuckled and grumbled. "Won't admit it, 'course. Had to drag her here with promise of a hot meal...Mind working yer magic on her, miss? Don't need her breaking down after all this. Too bloody useful for that. I'll take care o'er tab." Than, a friendly warning, "...even if she might eat more than a few o'us combined."

Edited 2024-09-30 20:33 (UTC)

"I don't know if my magic can really help with this..."

Iren was generally pretty forgiving when it comes to the tabs of Corsairs, so long as they don't overly abuse that. Grimshaw already had several drinks on his. As long as he paid it eventually, she was willing to overlook it.

Despite her doubtful words, Iren sized Nephenee up and decided the poor girl looked like she was burning the candle at both ends. "...but I'll see what I can do."

She vanished into the kitchen, then came out a minute later with a meal. Roast chicken, a roll, some roasted vegetables, and a pitcher of mead. Hearty fare for the weary heart, which shortly appeared in front of Nephenee. "Evening. Your friend seemed concerned about you not eating enough."

Grimshaw gave her a toothy, gold-specked grin, seemingly reading her mind (or, more likely, reminded of past talks). "The way we're going, might just be able to buy a good round or two for the whole place, after the next battle." He was a boisterous one who maybe had an inflated ego sometimes, but he paid his way just fine and looked out for the younger ones. Nothing to worry about on the bill front...more than likely. "You'll do fine, lass."

Even with the barbute on her head still shadowing her face somewhat, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who could read people decently that the Sentinel was both pushing herself too hard, and trying to mask it. Now that the adrenaline is starting to fade, she had to work harder to be as alert as she wanted, roving emerald eyes a little unfocused as she tried to take in everything at once. Normally that'd be easy, but right now...

The food being placed in front of Nephenee shouldn't have made her start slightly, especially when she had heard the barkeep coming over...well, she was pretty sure she had, anyway. But it did, and the soldier blinked at Iren for a moment before responding with some confusion. "O-Oh?" Her voice was hesitant, and clearly from some rural area. It might've brought to mind ripe fields and apple pie, if she weren't so tired. "Ah, thank ya, Miss..."

"Of course! No one leaves hungry."

Iren poured her mead from the pitcher, then lightly rapped her knuckle against the helmet. "I also take pride in a minimum of head injuries in my establishment. You can probably take that off, if you want."

If she started slightly at Iren coming over, the rapping definitely gets a jump and small squeaked "Oh!" But she didn't react any further than that, for a blessing.

Whether it was her exhaustion lowering her filter or what, she could not say, but Nephenee looked away at Iren's suggestion. "Uh...n-naw...f-folks'll stare..." She muttered, her cheeks turning pink.

Iren blinked. "Stare?"

"'Swhat folks all did when Ah had to wear that dang maid outfit for a party we was infiltratin' awhile back..." That had just refueled the old feeling that said if she didn't wear hats or something to cover her head in some way, people would stare. Sure, Calill had sworn up and down that that was because she was beautiful, and nevermind that Calill was right...the country girl couldn't see it.

Iren took a moment to imagine this warlike apparition in a maid uniform. She had to admit it did have a certain appeal.

"...Well, far be it from me to enforce a dress code." shoulder pat. "But just know that as long as you're in here you are with friends."

It showed off so much, more than the Sentinel would ever choose to show voluntarily. Chest, abs, the skirt was way too short...she couldn't burn it soon enough.

Perhaps it was because she's looking at Iren and saw it coming, or maybe because she relaxed slightly at not being made to remove her helm, Nephenee didn't start or react badly to the shoulder pat. That and Iren's kind words seemed to help, at least a little, because she got a small, grateful smile from the "warlike apparition". It was a bit pained and tired, but it was there.

"T-Thank ya, ma'am...Um...Ah...think Ah heard some folks in the group say your name is Iren? Is that right?"

Honestly, Iren's imagination probably fell short of the truth. Best to let her thoughts on this matter stay private.

"Iren Suto, yes. The owner of this establishment."

She fetched a cup from the bar and poured herself some mead from the pitcher. "It sounds like you have the advantage on me, however."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hospitality

2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

2*

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject