Come Sail Away IC Inbox

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

If I am going to show up and lick your new hat I am going to have to insist on a cocktail that gets lit on fire partway through. Smoking lounge in thirty?

[businessorlibation]

Don't tempt me to break out the new bottles from the bars...

I'll be there.

[crushed_pearls]

This is it, this is Erin's life now, she can see it in her mind's eye. Forever will people be bringing her potentially curst shit and going 'lick it' and Erin will, in fact, lick it.

It's annoying and she has no plans to do anything about this situation because, you see, she understands how it came about.

She's right on time, this time fully intending on smoking the cigars local to Tauva rather than her flavored ones; she's not about to insult Johnny's mix with a potentially clashing flavor.

[businessorlibation]

Johnny is not wearing a hat when Erin walks in. It's sitting on the bartop. Not that Erin can, in fact, see the hat.

She can, however, see the Feather.

Anyway, Johnny's behind the bar, pouring a float of everclear on top of two shots, which will light on fire nicely.

[crushed_pearls]

So, Johnny. Here's a new one for you. Erin turns her attention to the hat once she's seen to her access to the cigars; her head tracks it, her ears tip in that way they do, and she takes a step back immediately, a violent fear on her expression that not even the scissors evoked in her.

Her hand strays to the hilt of Bifrost before she remembers herself and forces her fingers off them.

"...That thing," she whispers, like it might hear her, "feels like...a contract. Or something like it."

[businessorlibation]

"And the Erda gave it to me. Isn't that nice? It's heavy, too." More or less the same weight as a human heart. More or less.

"Do you still want me to light the shots on fire, or are you too busy being burned by what I asked you to lick?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin sits.

Far away from the hat.

"...I'll take that drink still, yeah." There is an almost palpable sense that if Erin had eyes they'd be locked on the feather. She feels uneasy around it; even her Mantle thins as Fear - Autumn - dims her Spring.

One wonders why an old pirate might fear the feather of judgement.

"...It uh. Done anything to you or others yet?"

[businessorlibation]

"Nothing. Just...a feather in my cap, so far." He brings the drinks over toward her before lighting them on fire. "The bottom is cut in such a way it could be used as a quill."

[crushed_pearls]

"Of course it is." A full body shudder. "...Whatever that thing is, it's got a story. The items that come to mind for me are both wild free association and uh...rather more commonplace."

She's forgetting to blow out her drink.

[businessorlibation]

"Erin, your drink is burning."

His voice is gentle, but this is a very clear indication she's been thrown. Oh, he's not about to bring things to her to lick freely after this.

[crushed_pearls]

"Fuck me-" Erin blows out her shot quickly, and has the grace to look chagrined about it at least. "...Sorry. It's...a whole thing, I might be needlessly focusing on one possibility. My people make objects that...have deals in them. Interact the right way with the object and you agree...but you don't always get told what you're agreeing to. It's. I don't like those."

[businessorlibation]

"So, what do I do, Erin? Shove it in a box and forget I received it? Tell Valdis or Daisy I have it and let them get weird about it, too? Artifact storage, under lock and key with someone I don't know or trust?"

[crushed_pearls]

"If I was gonna suggest that I'd have to go to bat about the damn scissors too and I'm not about to do that." Again, having lost that argument before already. "...I don't know. Maybe it's completely benign. Maybe it's useful. The quill thing seems telling, but..."

She gestures helplessly with her drink.

[businessorlibation]

"But." He sighs, picking the hat up and putting it on his head. "Another great fucking mystery, I suppose."

[crushed_pearls]

"If it's any consolation the hat is a good look."