Momiji Sohma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selfishwish) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-08-08 01:59 pm
selfishwish) wrote in middaeg2019-08-08 01:59 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town
Who: Momiji Sohma, assorted seafarers, and you!
When: Aug. 8 - Aug. 14
Where: The Sly Seadog
What: Momiji tries his hand at gainful employment. It goes...um, well. It goes!
Warnings: Salty language; dubious child labor practices
I. First Shift.
[Not having an allowance, in Momiji's most humble and considered opinion, sucks enormous butt.
It is kind of the Coven to ensure that the city's newcomers-slash-unwilling interdimensional abductees don't want for room or board as they settle in. But what is he supposed to do with himself during the day? What is he supposed to wear? It is a quandary. But Momiji is nothing if not a self-starter, and after a few days he goes on the hunt for a solution.
Hence: The pipsqueak beaming over a pad of paper this evening, waiting to take each table's order. He barely comes up to the biceps of a good number of the Seadog's patrons, if that, and with each new guest he hazards skittish glance after skittish glance back towards the bar. The pub's menu is simple, but it's hard remembering the names of all the drinks that probably don't even exist where he's from.]
Mm, soo, five grogs, two brown ales, three stouts, a spiced wine, annnnd...a soda water with extra lime, right?
Noo, I dunno if the wine's any good, they won't let me try any!
[On the other hand, he is a quick study, and when it begins to get late and the crowd packs in tight, he's just the right size to squeeze himself through each tangle of patrons to make it to the next, waiting guest. Usually without spilling anything. The place smells like nothing so much as sweat and alcohol, but it's a bit of an adventure!]
Sorry about the wait! [He chirrups, laughing to himself as he barely fits himself past a vigorously gesticulating oarman to plant himself proudly in front of his latest guest.] What can I get'cha?
II. Cut Off.
[Somehow, they don't fire him after the first couple of nights. There are a few broken glasses and a bit of a learning curve on the drinking habits of the local merfolk. But he's adaptable! He's gotten his share of practice with wage-labor, shadowing Tohru during her shifts at his father's office.
And so, eventually, he starts to get his sea legs under him, so to speak.]
Umm, nope, I don't think so. I think you've probably had enough.
[Find him in the wee hours, hands on his hips with his lower lip jutted out, staring down a sailor easily five times his size as the bar does last call. The table in front of the unruly patron is already stained with the dark-colored liquid just spilled from his last order. The guest in question may or may not be sporting fangs and scales.
He also may or may not respond by immediately lifting 'Miji directly off his feet by the collar of his shirt.]
Oh, hey...! Ewwwww.... [The little puca's nose wrinkles, and he recoils melodramatically away from the dragon, covering his nose and mouth.] Oh, gross, your breath! You've definitely had enough, yuck...!
[This, um, this may be a situation in which more level heads ought to prevail.]
III. After.
[They give most everyone else a shift-drink after the last patrons are shoved out the door at the end of the night, but for some reason, Momiji typically only gets some kind of bubbly, nonalcoholic drink to sip at the bar once his closing duties are done.
He doesn't complain too much, either way. He's already usually so worn out by the end of the night that he can't earnestly say that getting to try a more adult drink would be a great idea. But he does take advantage of the privilege to hop up on a barstool and plant his cheek down on the cool wood--after any leftover spillage, spew, or blood is safely wiped clean.
The place is pretty quiet and cozy, once it's clear of foul-smelling, cursing, seaspray-marked guests.]
Ah-hah...
I could just doze off right here. D'you think they'd throw me out, if I did?
[He asks no one in particular, pondering the question all by himself.]
When: Aug. 8 - Aug. 14
Where: The Sly Seadog
What: Momiji tries his hand at gainful employment. It goes...um, well. It goes!
Warnings: Salty language; dubious child labor practices
I. First Shift.
[Not having an allowance, in Momiji's most humble and considered opinion, sucks enormous butt.
It is kind of the Coven to ensure that the city's newcomers-slash-unwilling interdimensional abductees don't want for room or board as they settle in. But what is he supposed to do with himself during the day? What is he supposed to wear? It is a quandary. But Momiji is nothing if not a self-starter, and after a few days he goes on the hunt for a solution.
Hence: The pipsqueak beaming over a pad of paper this evening, waiting to take each table's order. He barely comes up to the biceps of a good number of the Seadog's patrons, if that, and with each new guest he hazards skittish glance after skittish glance back towards the bar. The pub's menu is simple, but it's hard remembering the names of all the drinks that probably don't even exist where he's from.]
Mm, soo, five grogs, two brown ales, three stouts, a spiced wine, annnnd...a soda water with extra lime, right?
Noo, I dunno if the wine's any good, they won't let me try any!
[On the other hand, he is a quick study, and when it begins to get late and the crowd packs in tight, he's just the right size to squeeze himself through each tangle of patrons to make it to the next, waiting guest. Usually without spilling anything. The place smells like nothing so much as sweat and alcohol, but it's a bit of an adventure!]
Sorry about the wait! [He chirrups, laughing to himself as he barely fits himself past a vigorously gesticulating oarman to plant himself proudly in front of his latest guest.] What can I get'cha?
II. Cut Off.
[Somehow, they don't fire him after the first couple of nights. There are a few broken glasses and a bit of a learning curve on the drinking habits of the local merfolk. But he's adaptable! He's gotten his share of practice with wage-labor, shadowing Tohru during her shifts at his father's office.
And so, eventually, he starts to get his sea legs under him, so to speak.]
Umm, nope, I don't think so. I think you've probably had enough.
[Find him in the wee hours, hands on his hips with his lower lip jutted out, staring down a sailor easily five times his size as the bar does last call. The table in front of the unruly patron is already stained with the dark-colored liquid just spilled from his last order. The guest in question may or may not be sporting fangs and scales.
He also may or may not respond by immediately lifting 'Miji directly off his feet by the collar of his shirt.]
Oh, hey...! Ewwwww.... [The little puca's nose wrinkles, and he recoils melodramatically away from the dragon, covering his nose and mouth.] Oh, gross, your breath! You've definitely had enough, yuck...!
[This, um, this may be a situation in which more level heads ought to prevail.]
III. After.
[They give most everyone else a shift-drink after the last patrons are shoved out the door at the end of the night, but for some reason, Momiji typically only gets some kind of bubbly, nonalcoholic drink to sip at the bar once his closing duties are done.
He doesn't complain too much, either way. He's already usually so worn out by the end of the night that he can't earnestly say that getting to try a more adult drink would be a great idea. But he does take advantage of the privilege to hop up on a barstool and plant his cheek down on the cool wood--after any leftover spillage, spew, or blood is safely wiped clean.
The place is pretty quiet and cozy, once it's clear of foul-smelling, cursing, seaspray-marked guests.]
Ah-hah...
I could just doze off right here. D'you think they'd throw me out, if I did?
[He asks no one in particular, pondering the question all by himself.]
no subject
There's a brief shift in his expression, almost imperceptible, to one of sympathy. There's no point in sugarcoating the truth. ]
It's more painful than almost anything I've been through. [ And he's been through a lot of painful things. ] You can try to fight the changes, but it will only delay the inevitable.
no subject
[Momiji pauses from where he's swabbing the last table in the little row he's occupied himself with, looking up at Berserker with concern.
Kyo hadn't mentioned anything that bad! Maybe he had just not wanted to scare him, though? Or maybe turning into a dragon is worse than turning into a kitty...thing.]
I'm sorry. That sounds really awful. Growing wings and everything, it would probably be hard for it not to...
no subject
It's nothing I can't handle. [ A dismissive tone. He doesn't want sympathy or pity -- it was just information Momiji needed to hear. ] You'll also start to lose control of your mind during the full moons, so you should be prepared for that, too.
no subject
[If anything, the fact that Berserker sounds so neutrally resigned to it just makes the whole thing that much more intimidating.
Momiji dawdles through finishing up mopping down the row of tables he's occupied himself with and double-checking under each for broken glass, worrying at his lower lip the whole time.]
Um, like... like how? You mean you start to go crazy and stuff?
no subject
Something like that. You start having trouble thinking clearly and will act on instinct, which... [ How much does he want to reveal to this boy? Enough that he understands the gravity of the situation, but nothing enough to make himself vulnerable. It's a delicate line to walk. ] I was ready to kill the man I'm bonded to now, because we were playing a game of cat and mouse...I caught my prey. I could barely hold onto my mind and struggled to keep myself from tearing him apart.
no subject
[Distantly, Momiji is a little impressed how everything Berserker says manages to make this conversation so much worse. He'd assumed the dragon meant, like, "seeing things" or "hearing voices," not "I almost ate a guy."
On the other hand, there's something about uncontrollable magic driving someone to violence that just isn't as shocking as it probably should be. Though he still looks anxious, his voice is level and sympathetic when he asks, next:]
But...you didn't, right? And he was okay? [And, because he did listen to some of the stuff they told everyone when he first got here:] Does having someone you're Bonded with make it better?
no subject
I didn't hurt him, no. I managed to regain control before I did anything too rash. [ A few scratches here and there, but nothing too bad. ] And...yes. It makes it so much easier to hold control over your mind during the full moons.
[ Berserker, on the other hand, listened to nothing when he got here, choosing to find out the hard way instead. At least Momiji is willing to listen to him. ]
I don't mean to scare you, but if that fear is enough to spur you into action, then I've done enough.
no subject
[The Rabbit smiles, albeit somewhat tiredly. Berserker acts all scary and tough--and, okay, is actually legitimately scary--but that's twice he's gone out of his way to help him out tonight!
Clearly, they're work buddies now.]
Mn. I don't think I'm going to turn into anything that fierce, but I'll be careful.
no subject
[ It's not entirely inaccurate -- while they were both technically from the same world, they were not from the same timeline. Berserker knew the man he was bonded to while he didn't know Berserker at all.
Also, he's used to people just deciding they're friends despite his demeanor. It's fine. Momiji isn't the first and he certainly won't be the last. ]
... If you don't need anything else from me, I should go back to the door.