10613/What is Life

What is Life
Date of Scene:	31 March 2022
Location:	A random dive bar, Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	Hope meets Glamour, drinks and conversation are had, and a bartender is tormented.
Cast of Characters:	Hope Svelgate, Glamour

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Hope Svelgate has posed:
    People drink for a lot of reasons. Some do it to relax, others do it to escape from their problems if only for a few fleeting moments, and still others do it out of pure self-destruction. The last group may be in luck, for tonight Death has come to this dive bar. But she is not here for them, no even Lady Death has her reasons to drink.

    Wearing an illusion of her once mortal self, 'Hope Svelgate', a tall blonde Scandinavian woman clad in leather, she sits on a stool in one of the seedier bars of Hell's Kitchen nursing a beer. While she has plenty to think about like the destruction of the Endless Graveyard and her recent meeting with Endless Death, tonight does not find her in an introspective mood, rather her attention is on the humans in the bar, observing them all as if they might impart some insight into the human condition that has eluded her thus far.

Glamour has posed:
You can't fool an illusionist, of course. Glamour can pick up on those threads easy enough. Illusions are her *thing*.

... a moment later, though, Lady Death herself is joined by an illusion. A young, blond woman with pointy ears. It's a casual seat taken, there, elbows propped up on the bar as she leans on it and regards her casually. Fake, of course, under the control of the fairy behind the curtain -- over there on the shelf behind the bar, glow dimmed to focus.

"Well, aren't you looking glam," she tells her, "or glum."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    There is a clunk as the large half empty beer glass is set down upon the bar. The leather clad Scandinavian woman's eyes find the elfin girl to the side a good few seconds before her head turns at all. She looks at the illusion for mystic sight and soul sight both seeing it for what it is. There is a glance in the direction of the puppeteer as well, "Just out for a drink." She says before lifting her beer again and draining the remaining liquid, raising her other hand to signal the bartender for a refill.

    "You're either very brave or don't know who I am. Which is it?"

Glamour has posed:
"I can be brave without knowing who you are," remarks Glamour through her illusion. Easier to talk, and a little less attention grabby than a fairy fluttering around the head of Lady Death at this time.

"Two illisonists, both alike in doldrums," she remarks. "I mean, that's why I was here, but then you showed up and I was just inda curious. I *can* leave you alone if you prefer, I'd understand. On the other hand.." The illusion wiggles its fingers in her direction.

"Drinking alone isn't always for the best."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    Hope's expression quirks wryly at the answer. It is neither of the two irritating varieties that she normally gets, over accommodation out of fear or aggressive defiance with something to prove. A simple display of backbone is a welcome change of pace.

"This?" She says lifting the beer. "This won't affect me even a little, I guess that's its own unique curse, but the taste isn't completely shit."

    The tall muscular blonde knocks back some more of the beer. "So, what has you in the doldrums?" She asks. She did come here to people watch after all and Faeries are people too.

Glamour has posed:
"I mean, you looked over and saw me. Size changing is beyond me, for the most part."

Glamour has a drink from illusionary beer and the bartender just kind of quirks a brow because he plainly doesn't remember serving her. He moves on.

More beers appear in front of her on the table. Now she's just gaslighting the poor guy when next he looks back.

"Anyway," she says, looking back over to Lady Death herself, "I, quite obviously, am not drinking all this alone."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Hope glances at the bottom of her now empty pint before setting it back down on the bar with clinking sound. "So you're depressed because you're small? Jealous of humans and larger creatures?" Because Glamour is clearly a faerie and not a human, right?

    The torment of the bartender with illusionary alcohol that he clearly didn't serve, then consumed by an illusionary patron, if only he knew how in over his head he was this evening.

Glamour has posed:
"Totally depressed," agrees Glamour, dryly. More illusionary beer is being consumed. That she didn't pay for. Next time he looks, there's another beer added to the mix and he's getting very confused.

"No, it's more like ... the sheer inconvenience!"

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    Hope glances from her illusionary companion to her empty cup and then towards where the bartenders back is turned. "Inconvenience?" She considers the word, perhaps thrown off by the fact Glamour by all appearances is a faerie and haven't faeries been dealing with such things since ...ever?

    Raising a hand and gesturing with her fingers pale blue light surrounds one of the bottles behind the bar as it floats over and pours itself into her glass before returning from whence it came. "So the issue is not really your size, but what you can do at that size?" She looks at the illusion taking a drink from her illicitly acquired refill. "Magic can make a whole lot of things much more convenient, beyond just illusions."

Glamour has posed:
TO be honest, Glamour is a fairy, sure.

"Yeah. All the things regular people do, they don't have to deal with being THIS tiny. It's *boring*."

Oh no. Those words. BORING. Bored fairies. THE WORST THING EVER.

"And it does! That's how I get by. Keeps things tolerable."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    There is a moment of side-eye, when boredom is brought up, as Hope takes another drink from her cup.

    Ultimately she shrugs setting the cup down again. "Sounds terrible." She says dryly. "But at least you get by. Try some Asgardian Ale sometime if you really want to take the edge off of things. Nothing in a place like this is going to do much."

Glamour has posed:
"...I steer clear of those folks. The Asgardians are a bit worrying. The one time I wandered too close to the Embassy, I got this very uncomfortable feeling like I was being observed by an all seeing eye."

Dry tones, there. Glamour now has only one cup in front of her illusion and the bartender blinks again. He was just coming to clean them all up.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Amusement plays across Hope's expression. "That would be Heimdall, god of voyeurs. He likes to watch. They're not all like that though. Your life might be easier among other magical beings though."

Glamour has posed:
"Well, I'm among one right now. I'm definitely going to have to follow you around. You look interesting."

Glamour gives her a big old smile.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Hope rises from her seat giving the faerie a long look, at Glamour herself not the illusion. "Interesting, that's something I've never been called before. Many who follow me regret it." She says it more like a statement of facts than anything else and tosses more money than required on the bar, even including the alcohol she surreptitiously took without the bartender's knowledge, before then turning to leave.