Starting at: THE OPEN BAR
Weeks on, and many were still in process of being settled, and he'd placed himself as a cog in that process. He'd adapted, in part, in the manner that a soldier did to an unfamiliar environment, reconciling the overlap (what was in any way familiar), and as his nature ordained, keeping his mind open to the differences. This was a band-aid, not permanence. He did what he had to, to be of use.
Peace, comfort, would take far longer.
Helios could be forgiven for arriving with the evening in full swing, under the circumstances. After shedding his coat and plucking his fingers free of their leathers, the open bar was the first stop. He'd made certain that some bottles of spirit from the homeland were in the selection, and had every intention to avail himself of some of it, first and foremost.
He came to the bar counter and took to a one-armed lean against it, while peering at the wall of bottles. He was at this for a minute or two, absorbed in remembering when and where he had encountered one liquor or another until his eyes landed on what he sought. There it was, and so was the painful knot it provoked with the stick of memory.
"
What can I get you?"
Helios blinked a few times rapidly, when one of the barkeeps interrupted his thoughts. He turned his attention to the question, sheepish for the distraction, nodding small with the firm line his mouth was turning into. Wresting himself back from the miasma.
"
Ah, sorry," his brow furrowed, when its dialectal name queued up in mind; it was strange how some things escaped him, lately. He took a moment, then cleared his throat, "
amber liquid in a clear bottle, sealed in cork and white wax. Label is..." he looked down at the design of the signet on his right hand, his crest, then showed it to the barkeep, "
...should be this, in red, on the label."
Production of the earthy, botanical liquor was... or had been part of his House's portfolio. The barkeep peered at the ring, and their brows knit together slightly, then relaxed. A moment's recognition, putting two and two together, while composure remained. A reaction or version of a reaction Helios had seen more than once or twice over the past few weeks.
"
The Pelagian?" The barkeep turned and looked at the wall for a moment, while Helios filed that info away in his mind. "
Second row, far side of the middle," Helios supplied, recalling where he'd seen it a minute or two before. "
Thanks, got it." The barkeep confirmed.
The displayed bottle was retrieved and brought over. The barkeep removed the wax seal as they walked, retrieving a corker along the way. They offered the bottle and corker, but Helios shook his head, a faint smile bending into the firm line.
"
You go ahead." The barkeep applied the corker, and deftly removed the cork. Helios wasn't home. He could insist on corking the bottle himself: it was the tradition for a leader or person of highest station to cork the bottle and serve the first person, yet it was
also tradition to not serve yourself in the company of others... but he was grateful for the attempt. "
How'll you take it?" Helios turned more fully towards the counter, folding his arms on the counter. "
Shots." The barkeep's brows rose. "
Unit tradition." He gave. "
Ah."
This was a pre-op prayer of sorts, and a way their losses were marked, that he'd retained when the field was no longer his domain. The other way, in the thin-necked glasses, was for holidays and celebrations. A shot was poured, and placed in front of him. "
Sorry for your loss." Helios inclined his head for a moment, "
Thank you," then stood up, plucked the small glass from the counter, and lifted it, looking first to the barkeep, then down the counter to the other patrons, in a silent toast.
Then he knocked back the uzacik — what it was called at home — and gasped softly after swallowing, letting the glass down on the counter.
"
One more?"
"
Please."
TAGS : OPEN
