We All Fall Down – Save The Last Drink - Part Two
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson
Post Details
::ON::
The proprietor of the Box returned a few moments later with a tray brimming with drinks. And she'd brought the bottle, not just the three servings requested. She went a pale aqua as she watched Wallace's retreating form. "Changed his mind about the drinks I guess." She turned back to Darson, settling back to her more usual violet. "Should I take his away, or do you want me to leave them?"
"Leave them," Darson said quietly as he assisted the removal of the drinks from the tray. As he grabbed the bottle he grabbed shot glasses from his belt with his other hand, well worn. As Yolanthe placed the rest of the drinks down on the table, he arranged the classes on the other side of the table and with a well practiced and dexterous flick of the wrist, flipped the bottle and filled the little glasses. When he was done he placed the bottle down next to him and the collection of ordered drinks. The shot glasses stood at the edge of the table, full with gleaming amber liquid, their reverent purpose unquestionable to anyone who looked.
Darson leaned back in the table and took a sip of the aperitif through a straw, the slot in his mask easily accommodating it. Perfectly prepared, it flowed down what passed through his throat, evaporating instantly in the plasmic heat inside the armor. Darson let out a sigh, a billowing cloud of vapor emanating from the mask. Tinted green and heated from some unknown source inside the armored man, it seemed as though a plasma storm was creeping across the table wrapping around the shot glasses and utterly consuming them. However it dissipated quickly leaving the glasses untouched and went mostly unnoticed from the patrons.
Darson stared hard at the imitation of a conflagration, "Consumed in a storm of fire," he said in a musing tone, "Poetic, isn't it?"
To the Bokkai, it seemed a tastless parlour trick; she turned a gritty yellow. "I think its a bit...theatrical for a valediction for the fallen."
Darson turned back to Yolanthe and said genially, "Well, no matter. All things pass in time...even that which we hope never to lose. But rather than speaking of things that are lost...how about speaking of things that can be gained. Such as me gaining the pleasure of your company as you join me for a drink right now. As you can see, with the Commander's departure I find myself inundated with many delightful choices of beverage."
He had lost men. She never turned down a grieving patron if she could help. Especially not a man. If the enigmatic marine was a man. "Of course." She reached for a glass and the bottle of bourbon, pouring another for Darson. "To the fallen, may they revel in Valhalla or whatever afterlife they go to."
Secretly pleased that she had decided to stay, he accepted the glass and clinked it against hers, "There's few like us," he said as he downed his drink, "And they're all dead." He poured another, ready to continue his vigil.
::OFF::
Colonel James Darson
SFMC CO
DS5
Yolanthe Ibalin
Proprietor, The Box of Delights
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson
Post Details
| Title | Save The Last Drink - Part Two | |
| Mission | We All Fall Down | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson | |
| Posted | Sun Sep 28, 2014 @ 11:18am | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | MD01 2230 |
The proprietor of the Box returned a few moments later with a tray brimming with drinks. And she'd brought the bottle, not just the three servings requested. She went a pale aqua as she watched Wallace's retreating form. "Changed his mind about the drinks I guess." She turned back to Darson, settling back to her more usual violet. "Should I take his away, or do you want me to leave them?"
"Leave them," Darson said quietly as he assisted the removal of the drinks from the tray. As he grabbed the bottle he grabbed shot glasses from his belt with his other hand, well worn. As Yolanthe placed the rest of the drinks down on the table, he arranged the classes on the other side of the table and with a well practiced and dexterous flick of the wrist, flipped the bottle and filled the little glasses. When he was done he placed the bottle down next to him and the collection of ordered drinks. The shot glasses stood at the edge of the table, full with gleaming amber liquid, their reverent purpose unquestionable to anyone who looked.
Darson leaned back in the table and took a sip of the aperitif through a straw, the slot in his mask easily accommodating it. Perfectly prepared, it flowed down what passed through his throat, evaporating instantly in the plasmic heat inside the armor. Darson let out a sigh, a billowing cloud of vapor emanating from the mask. Tinted green and heated from some unknown source inside the armored man, it seemed as though a plasma storm was creeping across the table wrapping around the shot glasses and utterly consuming them. However it dissipated quickly leaving the glasses untouched and went mostly unnoticed from the patrons.
Darson stared hard at the imitation of a conflagration, "Consumed in a storm of fire," he said in a musing tone, "Poetic, isn't it?"
To the Bokkai, it seemed a tastless parlour trick; she turned a gritty yellow. "I think its a bit...theatrical for a valediction for the fallen."
Darson turned back to Yolanthe and said genially, "Well, no matter. All things pass in time...even that which we hope never to lose. But rather than speaking of things that are lost...how about speaking of things that can be gained. Such as me gaining the pleasure of your company as you join me for a drink right now. As you can see, with the Commander's departure I find myself inundated with many delightful choices of beverage."
He had lost men. She never turned down a grieving patron if she could help. Especially not a man. If the enigmatic marine was a man. "Of course." She reached for a glass and the bottle of bourbon, pouring another for Darson. "To the fallen, may they revel in Valhalla or whatever afterlife they go to."
Secretly pleased that she had decided to stay, he accepted the glass and clinked it against hers, "There's few like us," he said as he downed his drink, "And they're all dead." He poured another, ready to continue his vigil.
::OFF::
Colonel James Darson
SFMC CO
DS5
Yolanthe Ibalin
Proprietor, The Box of Delights