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devohoneybee at 02:47pm on 20/06/2013
devohoneybee at 02:47pm on 20/06/2013To be clear, I did not sign up for the Into a Bar challenge. I am, however, inspired by the idea of this challenge.
I shall enumbrate:
1. Bars. What bars one character, from a known 'verse, from barging into verse? Who will bar her or him or hir or gender not otherwise specified? Who indeed.
2. This is a free verse, which is to say, the bar is set... nowhere. There is no standard that must be met. There are no barriers.
3. Do tentacled creatures sit at bars?
4. I am now fascinated by the prospect, the mesmeric, tentacled bar-keep, ageless and pellagic, emerging from the deep with a spectral eye, or two, or twelve, tentacles astir in every direction, mixing, shaking, sliding drinks down the perfectly polished, glistening, smooth as a dolphin's tail and just this side of undulating bar.
5. We fannish folk do love our magical creatures. Immortals and vampires, wolvish folk and fae. Wary to each other's tricks and charm, yet craving the companionship of the Other. Once more into the bar, then, a meeting ground of respite, visible to each other. Methos. Thor. Black Widow. Amanda. Succubus. Wolf. Bristling and growling out the boundaries, marking perimeters. Meting disdain, challenge, succor, safe passage. And the bar-tender minds it all, keeper of secrets, doser of potions, confidante, priest. Creator and tender of the sacred space. Bruiser and guard to the disrespectful.
6. I want them to tangle. Trick and Joe and Janette and the old Roman, Lacroix, the still point of the careful maelstrom. I want them to tangle, these creatures, these Others, to find and lick and scent and touch. To bruise each other, in the proper way. Blood and bile and come. To kiss, to find solace, to find release. To be done with the invisibility of the mundane. To roar into their fullness.
7. An immortal and a vampire walk into a bar. A wolf and thief walk into a bar. A fae creature and a hunter walk into a bar. God bless the hunter, human only in the technicalities. Denizen of the scented world.
8. Siduri to Gilgamesh: What's your poison?
Gilgemesh to Siduri: What's on tap?
9. I'd like to tap that.
I shall enumbrate:
1. Bars. What bars one character, from a known 'verse, from barging into verse? Who will bar her or him or hir or gender not otherwise specified? Who indeed.
2. This is a free verse, which is to say, the bar is set... nowhere. There is no standard that must be met. There are no barriers.
3. Do tentacled creatures sit at bars?
4. I am now fascinated by the prospect, the mesmeric, tentacled bar-keep, ageless and pellagic, emerging from the deep with a spectral eye, or two, or twelve, tentacles astir in every direction, mixing, shaking, sliding drinks down the perfectly polished, glistening, smooth as a dolphin's tail and just this side of undulating bar.
5. We fannish folk do love our magical creatures. Immortals and vampires, wolvish folk and fae. Wary to each other's tricks and charm, yet craving the companionship of the Other. Once more into the bar, then, a meeting ground of respite, visible to each other. Methos. Thor. Black Widow. Amanda. Succubus. Wolf. Bristling and growling out the boundaries, marking perimeters. Meting disdain, challenge, succor, safe passage. And the bar-tender minds it all, keeper of secrets, doser of potions, confidante, priest. Creator and tender of the sacred space. Bruiser and guard to the disrespectful.
6. I want them to tangle. Trick and Joe and Janette and the old Roman, Lacroix, the still point of the careful maelstrom. I want them to tangle, these creatures, these Others, to find and lick and scent and touch. To bruise each other, in the proper way. Blood and bile and come. To kiss, to find solace, to find release. To be done with the invisibility of the mundane. To roar into their fullness.
7. An immortal and a vampire walk into a bar. A wolf and thief walk into a bar. A fae creature and a hunter walk into a bar. God bless the hunter, human only in the technicalities. Denizen of the scented world.
8. Siduri to Gilgamesh: What's your poison?
Gilgemesh to Siduri: What's on tap?
9. I'd like to tap that.
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