A soft golden glow filled the bar, the hum of its patrons filling the space where music used to lay. What was once a lively place, filled with life and wonder, had ebbed and faded into something... other. The closest thing it could be described as was a memorial. A young story that every member knew by heart, and paid testament to with every drop of liquor they drank. There was almost a sense of family amongst them all.
"Florence?" A southern drawl sounded from across the bar. "Would you mind turning the temperature down? I'd like for my drink to last longer than 5 minutes." His voice was slow, but not drunk. He was seated near the back of the bar, shrouded in the darkness of a broken bulb. In his hands was a crystal glass, with a golden nectar inside, watered down by the melted ice he absently swirled around. His hand of dark umber reached up, brushing silver curly hair out of his face. As he stood with a sigh, his face came onto the light. Sharp and angular, and strangely angelic. Young, but with eyes that held too much. That knew too much.
Moving his glass across the counter and into the hands of the waiting bartender, he slid into a barstool. His eyes met another pair across the bar; unnervingly green but shrouded by dark, rich brown hair that could be mistaken for black. It framed a face of golden sepia, the same shade as the earth in canyons after rain. Perfect was the only way to describe it. God-like. "Perhaps you should drink faster, Caspian." She replied. A clipped tone, but a voice like honey in the summer. Caspian simply laughed, thanking the bartender for the drink. It could be mistaken for a high class and thick whiskey, but the smell that was a flowery concoction far beyond the sweetness of even honey said otherwise.
Caspian stood from his stool, rounding the small bar central to the room and over to where Florence sat on fine velvet seats. He leaned forward on the frame of the booth, staring down at Florence. "Ah, I see that after running away with the finest man the Imperium has to offer you look down on common folk like us." He said, gesturing to the room. The woman scoffed, folding her arms. "And you seem to forget your own roots as well, O'Connell. Perhaps it would do us both some good to jog our memories."
"Sing us a song, why don't you." A deep voice sounded behind him, and he only slightly jumped. Turning around, a smile crossed his face as he recognised the man behind him. So ghostly pale you could mistake him as dead, but with a firm presence so undeniable that even Caspian almost bent to his will. "Ah, Mister Archembeau. A pleasure to see you amongst the realm of the living once again." He said, raising a jaunty glass and stepping aside, allowing him into the booth.
"It's Victor, Caspian. We settled that dispute eons ago."
With the three gathered so tightly, it was beginning to draw heads from the other patrons. Three so well known but hardly seen, so much so that all of them in the same place could only mean trouble. Still, a pair of children saw their opportunity, and ran up to Caspian, tugging on his trouser leg. "Mr O'Connell! Tell us the story! You said you'd do it again once they were here!" The child pointed a stout little finger at Florence and Victor, before looking back up at the man with wide eyes. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Caspian handed Victor his drink with a wink, before dropping to a crouch. "Well aren't these new faces," he said, playfully ruffling the hair of one of the children. "Perhaps I should tell it again. It is about time, isn't it?" He said, looking back to the other two. They simply nodded with a shrug, and Caspian stood, brushing his knees off.
Over to the side of the bar was a rather worn looking stage. A thin layer of dust covered the platform, and spiderwebs hung down from the silver microphone that sat in the centre. The thick head of the mic had lost its shine, and the red drapes that hung behind the stage had long since faded under harsh stage lighting. Weaving between tables and chairs occupied by families and lone people, he stepped onto the stage, hitting a switch on the back wall that lit up the stage. Relieved to find they still worked, he stepped up to the microphone, flicking it repeatedly until he heard the harsh squeal of feedback with the speakers.
Rubbing his ear, he grinned. Under the lights, his angular features were even sharper. High cheekbones and a jawline that could cut paper, and eyes that looked like nebulas, there was a story to tell on this man's tongue. Everybody recognised the sight of him onstage - it was an appearance that was long overdue. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe it has gone far too long without a bit of a show." There was a slight flair to his accent, although that was a part of show business. "And at the request of some lovely newcomers," he gestured to the children who sat excitedly at the foot of the stage. "I believe it's time to tell the story again." A devilish smirk, and a flourish of his hand. The murmur of the crowd had died down, enraptured by him.
"In a world of gods and man, we forget all too often the true definition of love. Whether that be for each other, or ourselves. Of course, no good story can be told without a cast, can it?" Victor and Florence looked at each other with a sarcastic eye roll. The couple knew all too well the story that was about to be told. "Give it up for our lady of Spring, our lady of the harvest, Florence Archembeau." He sent a wink to her from across the audience as an invisible spotlight lit on her. "And our lord of the underworld, Victor Archembeau." This time he blew a kiss, and the man looked imposing as the spotlight shifted to him. It almost shone through his skin, a terrifying effect that made his eyes seemingly glow.
"Our prophets, Nona, Decuma and Morta." The spotlight shifted again to three gnarled women sitting around a table. Gaunt, and frail, but with an undeniable power that was beyond that of Victor, Florence and Caspian combined. A darkness followed them, like a raven that signalled death. "No story is complete without lovers," Caspian continued. "And so sit back, grab a drink, and relax, as I regale to you the tale of Skylar Zeltio, and Diana Levitt."
