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Post by darkkon on Nov 12, 2024 0:58:59 GMT
Rumination. The quiet contemplation of an issue that has reared its head twice in the past month. Well, mostly quiet. The muted thuds of heavy pacing on rug covered stone filled the hall between the Abbey’s barracks and the common room. Far too heavy for one as small as the young woman making them. How does one get better at healing without patients and a mentor? If she had spent more time studying under their restorationists rather than honing her fighting skills things might not have been so terrifyingly close with Oracle. It was also a really good thing Anwir was there to help with Meteor, and that Meteor naturally healed on her own for that matter. Silence, a heavy sigh. She was going to wear tread marks into the rug at this pace. She needed to do something to help her clear her mind. Cleaning? Perhaps she could cook something? But what? She could ponder that in the pantry, maybe something would jump out to her. White and cherry blossom sneakers carried the young woman through the halls, into the kitchen, and through the door of the walk-in pantry without a second thought. Her hands instinctively moved to tie her hair into a low ponytail, but they froze behind her head as she froze in her tracks. The cacophony of many quiet conversations, dozens of denizens demonic(?), angelic(?), and... whatever that was? Patrons within a rather luxurious... bar? ”Nani?” (What?) Was all that escaped her lips as she stood utterly stupefied by the sight before her, still holding her hair behind her head with her hands. Well worn and rather faded jeans, repaired with pale golden thread, and a simple long sleeve white blouse stood in stark contrast to the extravagance around her. Was this real? Finally mustering enough thought to relax her arms, she moved to pinch the back of her hand. Yep, real. |
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Post by Countess on Nov 12, 2024 1:42:04 GMT
Ricky is polishing a glass behind the bar, his movements smooth, practiced—almost a dance. The low hum of the bar is familiar, a comforting buzz of conversation, clinking glasses, and the soft pop of bottles being opened. But there's something about the young woman standing frozen in the doorway that catches his attention, even over the usual bustle of the Oblivion. His eyes flicker up from the glass, a lazy grin pulling at the corner of his lips. He notices the way she stands, blinking in confusion, caught between the fantastical world before her and the mundane life she left behind. Her outfit, simple and modest in contrast to the extravagant setting, makes her stand out even more. He quirks an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his gaze as he sets the glass down with a soft clink.
“Not what you expected, huh?” he says, his voice low but laced with a playful edge. The words he says, even if they are in English, are simply... understood. Lovely magic, that. He doesn’t wait for an answer, knowing full well she’s probably too stunned to speak. He’s seen it before—the moment someone stumbles into this place, unsure if it’s a dream or something worse. “First time in the Oblivion. Don’t worry, happens to the best of us.” His tone is light, teasing, but there's an edge beneath it, a tiredness that's always there, no matter how much he hides it.
He’s leaning forward now, eyes scanning her form with a mix of curiosity and mischief, the kind that makes it hard to tell if he’s just joking or if he’s really interested in whatever mystery she’s wrapped up in. His fingers drum lightly on the counter, a subconscious rhythm to the quiet beat of his heart. He’s been through too much to be caught off guard by someone’s confusion, but there’s something about her presence, the way she’s clearly out of place, that feels... different.
Ricky’s smile flickers for a moment, just the faintest hint of a ghost of something darker that passes behind his eyes. He shakes it off quickly, masking it with that trademark charm of his, all easy confidence and a flirtatious edge.
"Need a drink, or are you just here for the view?" he asks, his voice warmer now, as if inviting her into the madness of it all, a little wink playing at the corners of his mouth. There’s a playful tension in the air, but it’s more than just the usual banter. There’s something about her, the way she’s standing there like she’s caught between worlds, that stirs something in him. Maybe it’s the fact that she doesn’t belong, or maybe it’s the faint, haunted look in her eyes that somehow matches his own.
“You okay?” he adds, the question slipping out more gently than he intended. He tries to hide the sudden softness in his voice, but it’s there, creeping in like a shadow. His fingers idly trace the rim of his glass, the slight scrape of his nail against the crystal sending a small shiver up his spine. “If you need a moment, I’ve got plenty of those around here.”
It’s the kind of offer that doesn’t quite feel like an offer—more like a subtle invitation to unravel whatever story she’s carrying. He’s seen enough people walk through those doors to know when someone’s on the edge of breaking. Maybe she is. Maybe she isn’t. But that’s what the Oblivion is for, isn’t it? To shelter people like her. To give them space to get lost, or to find themselves again.
The room around them hums on, oblivious to their small exchange, as Ricky watches her carefully, still leaning over the bar with that sly, disarming smile. Whether it’s curiosity or something else, he’s drawn to her—a person who, just like him, could be running from something.
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Post by darkkon on Nov 12, 2024 6:00:06 GMT
- ”Not what you expected, huh?” - A voice sifts through the fog of disbelief, low, playful. ”I was going to the pantry...” She replied, tone slow and uncertain, a bewildered stare upon her face as she gazed out across the room. The realization that someone even addressed her had yet to set in, an absentminded answer to a voice she wasn’t entirely sure wasn't a product of her imagination. - "First time in the Oblivion. Don’t worry, happens to the best of us.” - The voice again, a little clearer this time, someone was definitely talking to her.
”Oblivion?” Another response, absentminded question, confused tone, but less distant as the young woman attempts to shake off the stupefaction. Or slap off, rather, bringing both her hands up and smacking her cheeks a few times simultaneously. Focus, Jun, focus. A man behind the counter, tall, pale, short slicked back hair, and many tattoos. Leaning forward, looking at her, was he the one talking to her? Had to be, right? - ”Need a drink, or are you just here for the view?” - Yep, it was him. - ”You okay? If you need a moment, I’ve got plenty of those around here.” -
”Sorry... I... maybe?” She manages to answer, though not to any one question in particular, trying to sift through the urge to apologize for her present state and the dozens of questions running through her mind. Who? What? How? Why? Where to even begin? Her eyes scan across the bar once more, though this time with purpose. Is she in danger? No, not presently. It’s hard to tell why, but, despite the nature of some of the patrons, something about this place tells her it’s safe. A sanctuary of some kind? Was that right? Was that a deception?
”How did I get here?” She’d inquire softly, a hint of worry in her voice as she slowly spun around to get a full picture of the establishment. Would that door take her home? This felt too real to be a dream. Illusion? If it was, it was a very powerful one. ”Where is here?” With that, the young woman would turn to face the smiling barman that had welcomed her and showed her a bit of concern. The look upon her face, the tone of her voice, she wasn’t just worried. No small amount of curiosity was bleeding through.
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