10350/vin scene

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vin scene
Date of Scene: 05 March 2022
Location: The Verdant
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Sandra Wu-San, Vintridr




Sandra Wu-San has posed:
SOMEWHERE IN KARACHI
1998

Sandra Wu-San's last fifteen minutes have been a surpassingly brutal stretch of an exquisitely agonizing year which has served as the roaring, blood-soaked climax of a life spent in blissful ignorance. The only thing keeping her upright is the spear driven through her shoulder and the wall behind her; the only reason she's still breathing is that she happened to slip a shard of shattered mirror between her fingers and gift it to the spear's owner when he closed in to finish her.

The only reason her eyes are open -- still absorbing the destructive aftermath of the violent whirlwind she visited upon this luxurious den of murderers, all blood-spattered marble and ruined furniture -- is that there's something amidst the chaos to focus on:

The question of whether the vague sight of movement -- graceful, human motion wavering on the edges of perception -- means she's moments away from death or madness. As long as it lingers, there is hope for something beyond these fifteen minutes-- even if it is merely an echo of them, just as they were an echo of the violence that preceded it, and on, and on, leading back to the moment her sister's blood-soaked body wrenched her out of ignorance and into a world of might and right.

The longer her vision remains a mystery, the longer she gets to live--

THE VERDANT
NOW

Tonight -- this morning, really -- is Lady Shiva's first time back in the Verdant since sampling its tall, tattooed bartender's signature cocktail. Arriving comfortably after midnight, the woman with all the languid poise of a jaguar at rest remain perched on her stool, splitting time between crowd-watching and the occasional taste of enemies' blood. If spoken to, she remains polite; if ever Vin appears truly trapped in playing therapist for some poor, drunken soul, she will be certain to seek a refill before letting the other woman go about her business.

Mostly, though, she's just here. Watching.

And waiting.

Back largely turned, keeping the graceful bartender wavering on the edges of her perception now that she's had a taste of measure.

Vintridr has posed:
    Vin, for her part, seems to be exactly what she appears to be: a very good bartender juggling a fairly impressive crowd with aplomb.

    Unlike Tuesday evening, the Saturday night crowd is thick on the ground indeed, even after midnight; it's well toward the point where 'late' turns into 'early' before it begins to peter out and Vin spends more time calling the local cab company than mixing new drinks, until Last Call goes out and only perhaps a half dozen requests are made.

    Vin busies herself with the last few mixes while other staff start cleaning up empty chairs and tables, moving adroitly around Shiva while giving the woman only the occasional curious glance.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Shiva's current drink was among that last flurry of mixes, which gives her something to do besides take idle, disinterested accounting of who leaves with who, how, and when -- what consequences are liable to spin from the momentary pleasures of a crowded weekend bar -- the likelihood of sour feelings developing into something more once they've left the bounds of a bar that won't harbor them...

Something other than meeting curious glances with their intrigued like -- a different thing entirely from the rest of the evening-turned-morning's passive study.

"Another," she crisply states just after Vin finishes her very last drink, attention still focused on the waning whirl of activity throughout the bar.

"Two more," she amends a moment later.

"It's last call," she explains with an over-the-shoulder glance and the ghost of a smile, "but I haven't quite decided where I'm going yet."

She has had several drinks by now, but if they've taken their toll on her yet... it certainly doesn't show in unflushed cheeks or deliberate, cleanly enunciated words.

Vintridr has posed:
    "With the number of those you've already had, I'd be remiss in my duties as a host if I didn't caution you against going home on your own, no matter how well you appear to be holding your alcohol," Vin replies with a polite smile even as she reaches for the bottles in a now-familiar ritual.

     "Regardless, this will be the last one I pour for you this night - Last Call means Last Call. Do you wish for a cab to be arranged?"

    The words are perfectly courteous and sincere, and possibly no one else in the room could recognize the underlying question, or even realize that there's one being asked.

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"That was one option, yes."

Shiva and her smile don't elaborate; they just turn their focus back to the bar being reset for the next day's business. Back to sipping, slowly, 'til an empty glass touches wood, leaving her down to the one waiting for her. The last one, per the courteous bartender.

"Once you've poured yours," she offers -- states -- foretells, "we can discuss the other ones. You would be remiss in your duties, were you to lock up around a customer... and moreso still if you simply let her leave, after all."

A soft creak sounds while Shiva crosses one leg over the other and taps the rail beneath the bar just enough to nudge herself towards folding her hands the final drink and set her eyes fully on Vin.

"And you don't strike me as the sort of woman to shirk her duty," she shares, leaning forward enough to keep it a softly voiced secret protected by bartender-customer confidentiality.

Vintridr has posed:
    "Let it never be said that I'd forsake my duty - or fail to be a gracious hostess," Vin replies with a smile, meeting Shiva's eyes. "I must admit to some confusion, though," she continues. "The majority of people who stay well past Last Call do so because they're too inebriated to remember where they could go -- or who so dislike the thought of going home that they'd rather outstay their welcome in a bar than return a moment earlier than they have to. You clearly aren't the former, but yet neither do you strike me as the latter."

    "We have a few guest accomodations here; for those customers too inebriated to go home themselves or tell us where to take them, but yet not so impaired that they need more than a place to sleep off their stupor. They're a bit simple, but comfortable and clean, and will bring no disgrace on a host to offer them to a guest."

    "... Or if you'd prefer an escort to your own home for safety-" somehow not a single mirror shatters at the absurdity of the comment - "I would be honored to so serve."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Vin is a gracious hostess.

And in turn, Shiva does her best to be a polite guest when circumstances allow.

Which is why she not only brings her final drink to her lips to slowly and steadily drain it, she also maintains eye contact the entire time: No self-respecting bartender wants to stay too long past Last Cal, and anything less than her full attention would be rude.

And Vin is such a gracious hostess that she's willing to go the extra mile to personally guarantee her customer's safety. The very thought of it brings a broad smile and a small arch in Shiva's left brow while she drinks; those intense, chestnut brown eyes sparkle with interest more than anything like amusement.

"I'll make you a deal, Vinnie."

*thnk*

Shiva folds her hands behind the glass; she is still leaned forward.

"I'll let you choose: the modest, but welcome and ready comforts of the room you know - simple; safe; familiar, and clean," she starts, low and precise -- and still smiling, "or the mystery of a space shrouded in the darkness of the unknown?"

"Which would you find most comfortable, my dutiful hostess?"

Vintridr has posed:
    The bartender smiles back. "The value of simple things like a clean home, a safe space to rest and a warm bed to sleep in are under-appreciated most by those who've never gone without," she replies, then slowly finishes her own drink.

    ..."But comfort though they may offer, it's only when we venture outside them that we find the things that make life worth living. And you've managed to pique my interest. So I'll take your deal, with a counteroffer of my own: I'll follow you into the dark outside -- if you'll tell me what you'd like me to call you."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Only if you promise to do the same," comes counter-counter. The woman with the soul of a predator stalking just past her eyes reaches out to brush the back of a curled finger over a short stretch of tattoos.

"Because you are not a bartender, Vinnie," she shares in a whisper.

"You are not a receptacle for the woes of frail men; your grace wasn't born of long weekends spent in lecture halls and professional-grade labs; you run deeper and truer than the reserved sapling you present to the world."

"So: will you strike a deal with Lady Shiva, to see what waits in the darkness?" she asks, punctuating with a smile split just wide enough to show the bartender a few teeth.

Vintridr has posed:
    Vin glances down at Shiva's hand but doesn't object to the touch. If the name means anything to her, she doesn't show it beyond a raised eyebrow. "One who takes a name like that has no small opinion of their worth," she replies in an almost equally low voice. "But you would not be the first goddess I've followed into darkness and danger, and lived to sing of it on the other side."

    "As to what I am..." She smiles, again, but there's something deeper and older in her eyes now. "Within these walls, I am exactly as I say I am - Vinnie, the bartender who'll mix your drinks, hear your woes, and offer consolation or kind advice should it be asked for. So I've pledged to be, and so I am. If you wish to know my other names and nature, I will share them - but not in here."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
"Then the bargain is set."

And so: Lady Shiva pivots to her feet, leaving the stool spinning behind her while she walks--

-- weaves, with all the undulating grace of a willow in the wind

-- towards the end of the bar and offers Vinnie the Bartender her arm, so that she may learn what else she is.

"One with a name like mine could only claim it if her understanding of worth was more than mere opinion, Vinnie; goddesses have a way of falling once the belief in them falters-- not that I have to tell you."

Glancing sidelong towards the bartender, Shiva winks.

"You are the expert, after all: I've never had much taste for following goddesses; just danger, when the mood strikes just so~."

Vintridr has posed:
    "And sometimes, one's faith falters when one's deities prove... Less than worthy of devotion," Vin agrees, with more regret in her voice than one might have expected as she takes Shiva's arm and accompanies her to the exit.

    As they pass through into the dark and chill night beyond, something in her demeanor changes - her stride becomes a little more sure, that certain gangly swing of her arms melts into quiet strength, she even seems to grow an inch or two as she straightens out of a hitherto imperceptible slouch as if leaving behind the trappings that let her move through this world and be regarded as yet another mortal.

     "My people, too, believe that one's given names should speak to one's deeds." She glances down at the woman holding her arm, and when next she opens her mouth her voice resonates in a cadence unlike any mortal language, for all that Shiva understands it perfectly.

    "I am called Wind-Reader, Cloud-Rider, Way-Finder; mine is the duty and the honor to guide the Victorious Fallen to the Halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever. I am Vintridr, formerly of Asgard. Hail and well met, Lady Shiva."

Sandra Wu-San has posed:
Even though her eyes are on the road ahead, each piece of mortal costuming shed widens Lady Shiva's smile until she's practically beaming in the presence of sheer, palpable divinity as she leads the way through the darkness, swaying almost rhythmically all the way.

"Wind-Reader," Shiva delicately repeats, as if the barest slip of her tongue might shatter porcelain. "Cloud-Rider, Way-Finder..."

Her head turns so she can look -- up -- at the ancient warrior whose voice resonates with the very substance of her being... and whatever might've followed lingers on her lips. Those lips purse as a gust of air as swift and sharp as a knife is sucked through them; the unconscious certainty of her gaze flashes its absolute opposite and her pace slows.

"... I do know you."

Her whisper's all tightly held surprise and shameless wonder-- the gravity befitting a look into the rare set of eyes that've witnessed the birth pangs of a goddess from seething human clay and lived long enough to see her again.

"Karachi."

"Peerless grace sifting through dead men."

"Broken glass twinkling like stars beneath your boots."

As she looks away, Shiva shuts her eyes for a deep and deliberate breath.

"... the years have done well by you, Vintridr, formerly of Asgard. Or maybe it's just a matter of shifted perspective," she observes with a tiny, taut smile.