Private I'll Get Your Tab Started

[Dash Vikal]

The bar was always open. Even at times when it shouldn't be. And for Dash it was a lifeline. The man was not much of a drinker, but he could mix them as though it had always been his livelihood. His skills of a steady hand and attention to detail helped to shape the quiet reputation that he shared amongst his coworkers.

Yet his finest skillset was in listening. In some ways that was a big part of his previous occupation. Now it only saved him from having to talk much. Speaking was at times a painful endevor. Yet for his own easement he always had a glass of iced water on hand for when needed.

Dash's eyes were drawn up from the countertop that he was wiping clean when the door to the bar opened and a new customer walked in.

Tags: Morta Izanami Diarch Reign

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal ... Diarch Reign


Lady Izanami crossed the threshold of the bar as though passing through a veil, the door sighing shut behind her like a reluctant witness. Incense smoke clung low to the ceiling, tangled with the sharper bite of alcohol and sweat, and lights trembled in glass sconces, casting shadows across the walls. Her gaze moved slowly, deliberately, taking measure of the patrons; cloaked mystics murmuring hushed tones over sigils scratched into tabletops, mercenaries with gold rings on their fingers and old blood in their eyes, pompous dressed aristocrats slumming for secrets, and creatures whose true shapes pressed uncomfortably against borrowed skins.

The bar throbbed with low conversation and hidden intent, a congregation of hungers pretending to be leisure.

She drifted deeper inside, heels whispering against the floor, her presence subtly bending the air around her. Tables were full, every seat claimed by whispered deals, quiet threats, and laughter that sounded a touch too sharp to be genuine. She paused, letting the room feel her before she acknowledged it, sensing the currents of attention shift in her wake. Finding no empty refuge among the tables, she turned instead toward the bar, where polished wood gleamed like dark water under the lantern light.

Lady Izanami took a seat at the bar with unhurried grace, folding herself into the space as if it had been waiting for her all along. She regarded the bartender, a handsome man with practiced hands and an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes; and allowed a faint, knowing curve to touch her lips.

Tilting her head just enough to catch the light, she spoke in a voice smooth as a whispered invocation. "Tell me," she said softly, eyes never leaving his, "what's the house special on drinks tonight?"

 

[Dash Vikal]

Dash eyed the woman as she sat down. The way that she moved told him a lot about her already. But such knowledge wasn't useful here. That was for his old life. One that was far more complicated than most people could tolerate. Here everything was much more simpler. And he liked that.

At the customer's question he did a half turn, picked up a pamphlet from a neatly stacked pile and slid it towards her on the bartop. A small incline of his head invited her to read them for herself. In the meantime he shouldered his washrag and waited patiently for her to reveal her choice.

Tags: Morta Izanami Diarch Reign

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal ... Diarch Rellik

She lingered over the offered pamphlet as though it were a grimoire rather than a list of libations, her pale fingers tracing the inked letters with idle amusement. She smirked at the sheer abundance; drinks named after fallen stars, whispered sins, and half-forgotten saints and heros, each one promising transcendence or ruin in a single swallow.

There was a reverence to some of them, a careful curation of meaning and myth, as if the bartenders themselves understood that names carried power. She lingered on those titles, tasting them silently in her mind, amused by how mortals borrowed fragments of the arcane to dress up their intoxication.

Then there were the others, the absurdities, and her smile sharpened. Garish names boasting bravado and vulgar humor paraded before her, stripped of mystery and bloated with noise, as though excess alone might grant them significance.

The witch exhaled a soft, mirthless breath through her nose, finding them almost endearing in their clumsy desperation. Mortals, she mused, could not help but reveal themselves, even in drink, torn between the hunger for meaning and the comfort of mockery.

Closing the menu at last, carrying that knowing smile with her, a manic glimmer dancing in her eyes, she purred to the bartender, "I'll take the Bucking Rancor, whatever delightful catastrophe that happens to be."

A soft, unhinged laugh slipped from her lips as she added, "I'm desperately in love with surprises; I do adore not knowing whether I'll transcend, black out, or curse the place by last call."

 

[Dash Vikal]

As soon as the woman made her order, Dash took the pamphlet in hand and returned it to the pile. He then proceeded to fulfill her order while she spoke. Her anecdotes were amusing, just as her behavior was curious. No doubt plenty of single patrons would be scoping her out. But Dash wasn't interested in such things. At least not for the time being. Working here at the bar was his only priority. And he was never the type to mix business with pleasure.

Once he completed creating the Bucking Rancor, Dash placed it in front of her. And after taking a careful swallow, he spoke to her quietly; "Shall I run you a tab, miss?" His voice was a little rough around the edges, yet speaking low allowed him to not strain it. So speaking quietly was far easier than trying to speak loudly. And whenever any patron were to ask about his voice; he'd always give them the same answer. And that was that he was an auctioneer once, and speaking too loud and quickly hurt his vocal chords.

But that excuse was so far from the truth that it'd take days to walk there.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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[]

Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

The glass chimed softly as it was set before her, a crystalline note swallowed by the bar's low hush. Lady Izanami let her gaze drift, unhurried, eyes tracing the warped reflections in polished metal and stained transparisteel, the flicker of amber lights like captive spirits caught in bottles.

"Charming," she said lightly, amusement curling each syllable, "in that way only places with too much history and not enough regret ever are."

She had barely lifted the glass when a man wandered close; soft steps, eager posture, courage borrowed from alcohol and loneliness. He gestured toward her drink with an awkward gallantry, offering another and a conversation to match, his words tumbling over themselves in hopeful disarray.

She turned just enough to acknowledge him, dark nails tapping once against the rim of her glass as her smile sharpened. Her presence pressed outward, subtle and invasive, the Force uncoiling like silk-threaded smoke around his thoughts.

"Oh, no thank you," she whispered, voice warm, flirtatious, irresistibly certain, "but you'll cover my tab." The suggestion slid into his mind fully formed, unquestioned, and his eyes glazed for a heartbeat before clarity returned, obedient and pleased.

"Her tab's on me," he declared to the bartender as he turned and walked away, already forgetting why he'd come, satisfaction humming through him like a borrowed tune.

She leaned toward the bar then, attention settling on the bartender, her tone shifting into something curious and intimate. "Tell me," she said softly, toying with the glass between clawed fingers, "about your bar."

 

[Dash Vikal]

He watched with a curious brow lofted high as the lady interacted with the other patron that was clearly hoping to hold her attention. And yet she had managed to have him pay for her drinks while not having her attached to his arm.

She had to be one of those.

Her attention was then reverted back to him. So Dash picked up his glass of ice water and took a sip of it. The swallowing wasn't difficult. It wasn't as though he had a sore throat. Thankfully. He was going to have to speak, and so he chose his words carefully. "It's not mine. I just work here." He then picked up the pamphlet again and slid it towards her. He pointed at the paragraph underneath the name of the bar. In it it described how it was a backwater bar with a central core vibe, catering those with a variety of tastes.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

She let her golden gaze linger on the pamphlet's title, her lips curling as if tasting something spoiled. "How painfully ignorant," she said, voice sharp and disdainful, "to bestow such a name upon a bar, as though words themselves hold no power worth respecting."

Then her tone smoothed like silk drawn over a coffin as she glanced to the bartender and added softly, "I'm certain someone of your talents could have conjured a far more inspired name, had you been asked."

Once more, she took the pamphlet between her fingers, as her eyes traced a name etched in playful script, The Mystic Whimsical. Her composure cracked into something bright and almost girlish, a delighted spark flaring as she laughed softly and said, "Oh, I want one of those, it bears such a delightfully enchanted name," as though the words themselves had already sweetened her tongue.

She slid her untouched drink aside with a casual, dismissive nudge, the glass whispering faintly against the bar as if offended by the rejection.

"Tell me," she asked in a curious, almost intimate tone, "why don't you own your own bar?" Her eyes glimmered caringly as she continued, "Or hypothetically, would you crave such an opportunity? No bosses breathing down your neck, no borrowed rules; just your will, your name, and a place that answers only to you."

 

[Dash Vikal]

The woman was strange. But how, was something that his mind toiled on. He thought back on some of his training, and of the various types of people that he had confronted in the past. If his memory served; those like her had quite the vengeful temper. So placating her seemingly enthisiastic behavior was best.

She placed an order for a different drink, moving the other one aside. Dash did not touch it in the off chance that she might change her mind. Instead he focused his attention on the newest drink; one that bears a sweetness to it with a hit of spice shortly thereafter.

To her inquiry in regards to him owning his own bar and being his own boss, Dash appeared to think about it; even though he knew the answer well enough already. And it wasn't until he place the new drink in front of her that he responded. "I'm not interested. Who needs the stress?" Why work for yourself and be bogged down with leases, contracts, accounting, stock and lenders? At least working here he only needed to serve drinks. Then after his shift is over, Dash can return home to peace and quiet before his next shift. Stress free living was enjoyable living. Dash delt with more than enough stress during his previous employment.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

She took a neat sip of her drink, slow and deliberate, her eyes dancing over the rim of the glass as she watched the bartender talk. He was saying, plain as a church bell, that he'd no interest at all in owning his own bar, no desire for the fretting and figures and the weight of keys in his pocket. "A wise head on your shoulders," she said, her brogue thickening when she spoke. A smile tugged at her mouth, as if she'd heard such sense spoken before and approved of it every time.

"Aye," she went on, voice warming, "you put me in mind of a witch I once knew; mayhap I still do." She gave a soft laugh. "The witch", she began, "had been young and shining once, stuffed full of grand dreams and notions that reached higher than the hills. But she was forever trying to keep everyone else content, bending this way and that, minding their wants and worries before her own. And the more she did it, the heavier the world sat on her shoulders, until the stress near crushed the magic clean out of her."

Morta tapped the glass lightly with a finger as she spoke, the sound gentle as rain. "One morning," she said, "the witch woke up and thought, 'I've had enough of this carry-on.' It came to her sharp and sudden that all her strain came from living by other folk's needs, from following orders that weren't meant for her, swallowing philosophies that soured in her gut, and nodding along to dogmas that never once asked her what she wanted." She paused, here golden eyes glimmering, "so she cast it all off, like an old coat that never fit right, and chose herself at last, shaping a life free and wild and wholly her own."

She tipped back the glass then and finished it in one easy go, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. She met the bartender's eyes, mischief glinting there. "But I wager that witch and you have nothing in common at all," she said lightly. "Another drink, please, of the same nature. And mind the moral of the story, sometimes the truth sits 'neath and comfortable 'tween the words."

She turned slightly on her stool, the lights overhead catching the curve of her smile as she lifted her empty glass in a small salute to the patron minding her tab. "Ah now," she said, her lilt soft and playful, "if there's a free drink to be had tonight, it's yours for the taking." Her eyes sparkled with quiet mischief. "After all, you're the one who paid for it; seems only right you should taste the kindness of your own coin."

 

[Dash Vikal]

Dash listened as he always did. Although he didn't care to retain a lot of the details. It was not how he conducted things in this new life of his. One might even call it a semi-retirement.

Still, there was only one small grain of truth to her words that he empathized with. But the same level of truthfulness could be gleaned from anything. Much like those horoscopes and other such nonsense. Yet he placated her all the same and proceeded to remake her the previous drink. His hands moved with well-practiced precision; measuring the liquers with his eyes as he poured and mixed them. It was what some might call: a fine art.

Once the order was fulfilled he slid it on the bartop in front of her. "Enjoy." His gaze fell then to the man who's tab had now increased a little bit more, upon which Dash gave him a brief nod. Just how many more drinks that would be added to his tab this evening was anyone's guess.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

She sat easy upon her stool as though she'd been carved there by some patient hand of fate, clutching her newly arrived drink in her cold hands. She watched the bartender a spell, the quiet man moving like a ghost between bottles, and at last she tipped her head, raven color hair, with streaks of white, falling like a curtain of midnight.

With a smile that held both mischief and music, she spoke in a soothing charm, her accent heavy, soft as musical-strings, "For a bartender you don't talk much at all; but ah, unfortunately for you, I've never been the shy sort." The words danced more than landed, friendly as a hearthfire yet edged with playful warning, and she gave a small hum of amusement into her glass.

It was then her eye caught the glint of colored lights in the corner; a karaoke machine, blinking brave and lonely as a carnival lost at sea. Quick as a raven on the wing she leapt from her stool, boots barely whispering against the floor, and skipped her way toward it with the lightness of a girl chasing the wind.

She scanned the songs with bright curiosity, then dropped a credit in with a satisfied clink. Turning to the scattered patrons, she lifted a hand and laughed in playful tones. "Ah now, bear with me, it's felt like forever since last I sang, so I'm a touch rusty, you might say."

Her voice rose clear and silver, old sorrow and wild joy braided together, while she danced, not rowdy, but majestic, her cloak and shadow turning like poetry about her feet, while in sync to the lyrics.

When the last note faded, it lingered in the rafters as though unwilling to leave her. She bowed deep to the few souls gathered there, earning murmurs and scattered applause. Then, as if nothing at all had happened, she drifted back to her stool and settled once more before the bartender.

Her voice softened, still sweet, but carrying a thread of earnest gravity now. "You should take yourself a break and sing a song, one drawn up from the very well of your soul," she told him gently.

"It'll do it and you some good, trust me. And doncha worry, I'll mind the bar for you. It's not about to sprout legs and scamper off on you." Her smile returned, quieter this time, but no less bright, as though she meant every word she'd said. "Off you go."

 

[Dash Vikal]

One look at the way that she presented herself and Dash knew that she wasn't shy. Even before her first drink he could tell. However her sentiment beforehand did make him a little curious. Wasn't a part of being a bartender was to be a good listener? That involved being quiet, didn't it? How else could one be a good listener if the one that was supposed to talk could hardly get a word out?

Dash watched her move adrift towards some new fascination, before turning his attention to other patrons. Quite a number of them were his regulars; and so he knew of their favorite drinks off hand. The music drifted into the air like most of the music that played there did, faded in the background as Dash focused on his work. He collected some credits and put them in the till.

Moments later the woman had returned, returning to the barstool that she had previously occupied. As she heavily suggested that he get up there and sing, Dash just gave a small and polite smile which was coupled with a shake of his head. He wasn't a singer. Especially now. Probably the only song that he could do was far too simple to accomplish any of the goals that she was after.

Dash brought up his glass of water and took another sip. He was preparing to tell her that he doesn't sing when something else caught his eye. Two familiar patrons to the left of him and towards the back began to get into a heated argument. He put the glass down and then reached underneath the countertop to his blaster that was latched under there, all the while his gaze remained locked onto them. He studied their movements, their argument. Dash did not yet draw his weapon, but his fingers wrapped around the handle like an old acquaintance. The pair had been at this every day for the past week, and each day it was getting worse. At some point he knew that he would have to intervene.

Today might be the day.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

The cantina's mood had been a gentle thing; laughter, clinking glass, the soft wheeze of tired mortals, but she felt the shift before the voices rose; still feeling dismayed at being shunned by the bartender. She sat half-turned on her stool, death colored hair, with vertical strands of white framing passionately, spilling over one eye as her fingers idly circled the rim of her drink. Her attention drifted toward the brewing quarrel the way a cat's might follow the twitch of a trapped bird; lazy, intrigued, faintly delighted by the promise of chaos in the air.

Or dinner.

Her gaze slid then to the bartender, and there it lingered. The adorable man had stiffened behind the counter, jaw tight, hand lowering ever so carefully to the blaster pistol kept beneath the lip of polished metal. Her eyes gleamed with amusement at the ritual of it, the practiced calm, the readiness to defend the peace he poured for a living. She lifted her glass slightly in his direction, as though toasting his impending burden.

Only then did her attention settle fully upon the two combatants, her expression turning theatrically mournful. "Ah now, look at the state of ye," she sighed in soft, cryptic playful tones. "You've gone and ruined a moment entirely. Without your interference, I was just about to MAKE him sing and dance for me; would've been a grand show."

She took a languid sip, eyes glinting over the rim. "But naw. Now I'll sit back with me drink and hope one of you three meat puppets survives long enough to tell the tale."

She leaned an elbow upon the bar and turned her head toward the bartender, her smile softening into something almost bashful. "I do hope you win, love; I'll be needing someone to fetch me drinks after all."

 

[Dash Vikal]

Dash's gaze never strayed from the quarreling patrons. Even as the woman before him tried to insist that she would make him do things for her. There was little doubt in his mind that she did so to try to get a rise out of him.

But he chose to not react to her. Instead he had the other situation to deal with. He removed the blaster and tucked it into the back of his belt.

The pair didn't seem to hear her either. They were too involved with their own argument. First one took a swing and a miss. And then the other tried. But as he did so Dash was already there grabbing a hold of his arm and twisting it behind his back in a lock. One wrong move and he'd quickly have a dislocated shoulder. Dash didn't speak. He didn't have to. The stern look in his eyes told them all that they needed to hear. That, and the fact that he began to lead them out towards the door where security soon took over.

Dash then returned to their table and started to clean it all up for the next patrons like it was second nature to him. And at this point, it was. Not that he had minded it either. It was a far better job than what he did in his previous life.

Carrying the glasses in hand, he brought them back behind the bar and added them in to the dirty dishes pile, all the while glancing to the patrons sitting around the countertop to see if they needed another round.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

She lingered at the counter's bend, chin balanced upon her palm, as the quarrel of the two patrons rose and cracked like a sudden squall against a quiet shore. Yet the young bartender met it not with fury, but with the steady calm of an old bar keeper who had seen a hundred such storms break themselves to foam. He stepped between them with practiced ease, and whatever wildness had filled the air faltered beneath his measured presence, two birds, one stone in a whisper; and was soon ushering them out like cosmic trash.

Security came soon after, gathering the pair and bearing them away like unruly cargo, their protests fading into the cantina's dim rafters.

Her eyes followed the bartender as he returned to the small wreckage left behind. He wiped the table in slow, circular motions, as though polishing away not only the spilled drink but the ill temper that had stained the wood and metal. The lights glimmered in the damp grain, and the quiet clink of crockery sounded near reverent as he gathered the soiled dishes. One by one he stacked them into a careful pile, neat as prayer books upon a chapel stand.

Morta's lips curved with sly amusement, for there was something endearingly dutiful in the way he set the world right again.

She leaned forward then, voice wrapped in lilting, teasing warmth. "Ah now, I'd have taken the more entertainin' road meself, but that's why you're not I, me friend."

Her gaze dropped to the tower of dishes, and she gave a soft, playful scoff. "And how are you not goin' to clean those proper, hmm? Haste makes waste, or whatever the sayin' is." She waved a hand lightly, smile glinting in her eyes, the mockery gentle as rain upon a dirt road; meant not to wound, but to keep the quiet from growin' too solemn between them. She was growing a fascination to this mortal.

The witch then lifted her near-empty glass with a mischievous twinkle, her voice soft and lilting; she turned toward the other patrons. "Next round is on me, in honor of our barkeep; for his courage, for keeping our drinks flowing and sparing us the early return to undesirables tonight, like nagging wives. Ain' I right?" She gave a sly smile to the bartender. "Sure, put those drinks on me personal tab."

 

[Dash Vikal]

Finding order amongst chaos, the clean beneath the dirt, the quiet over the loud; all of these Dash found to be very soothing, each to a different degree. He didn't mind the apparently mundane tasks that some would rather pass on to a coworker further down the senority ladder. Instead he enjoyed them. Let others elevate themselves to find greatness. Dash had been there before, and in truth he found life to be more enjoyable here.

Another round was offered; this time to everyone there. And instead of it being paid for by a poor sap; the mysterious woman had decided to begin a tab of her own. Dash gave her a subtle nod and took to his datapad to have her tab begin. And to it he had already started to add the drinks that were being called out to him by the patrons eager to take the woman's offer of free drinks. Once that was finished he began making those drinks to be collected by them.

The work was second nature to him, and so he could handle it while his mind was occupied. The woman kept toying with him and prodding him as though he was some play thing for her amusement. Given that she was one of those people; it didn't quite surprise him that he'd be treated in such a manner. They all behaved that way towards people like him.

Once he was finished with their drinks, Dash had another sip of the ice water, before speaking to the woman quietly, "Another?" That was the only word spoken as he then gestured towards her glass.

Tag: Morta Izanami

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Disobey - by ODDKO
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Tag: Dash Vikal

From within deep inside a fold of her robe, she conjured a single ebony coin, black as a moonless bog and brightly kissed with a sly, enchanted gleam, and set it dancing between her fingers as though it had a will of its own. Up it went and down it came, turning lazy circles in the lights, and she watched it with a half-smile that knew more than it ever meant to tell.

When the bartender asked would she be taking another drink, she lifted her eyes to him slow and steady, the coin never missing its rhythm, clicking soft as a chapel bead against her knuckles. She let her gaze wander then, as unhurried as a ghost through a cemetery, taking in the cantina's low smoke and louder laughter, the huddled patrons; those sharp-eyed drifters and soft-hearted fools.

All the while the coin rose and fell, rose and fell, a dark little sun caught in orbit about her hand; and suddenly it vanished back into the fold.

Tilting her head toward the bartender, a phantom of a smile played at her lips as the lights over the bar caught in her golden eyes. "Ah now," she said, her brogue lilting soft and thick as a gentle breeze after midnight, "it's been an eventful night indeed, good drink, bold song, a turn about the floor, and near enough to a scuffle to chill the blood without spillin' it."

She let out a quiet breath that might've been a laugh. "And sure it's early yet. Not all souls are fond o' the company o' sleep, and some o' us aren't granted the luxury o' choosin' it at all." Her fingers tapped once upon the bar, gentle but certain. "So I'll be having another drink, if you'd be so kind."

 

[Dash Vikal]

Dash studied her movements subconsciously; creating his own profile for her in the back of his mind. It was an old habit that he hasn't even tried to break. For it worked well in this environment.

The coin that she turned and moved along her fingers appeared to be enchanted; and almost as though it carried a life of it's own. The darkness of color that it held gave enough of a warning to him. There was that and something more that he couldn't quite explain. She toyed with it like a sharpshooter cleaning their pistol in front of an intended target. Dash had used such a tactic before, and so he recognized it. And he would not fall for it. He just remained aware. Although his mind slipped back briefly to memories of infiltrations and soldiers closing in on their targets as the traps were sprung.

But such a thing wouldn't be happening here. Not now. And especially not for him.

Like the dutiful bartender that he was, Dash prepared the woman her drink and placed it before her. He tapped the bottom of the glass with his finger as if to say; there you go, and then proceeded to collect some already empty glasses that began to pile up on the countertop. The evening was winding down and he couldn't help but imagine different scenarios on how the woman would leave. There were a few options that he could think of instantly. And more were sure to materialize over time. But only she can prove to him which one was correct.

Tag: Morta Izanami