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tristranthorn"That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
There is applause, as per usual, as Tristran finishes reciting Coleridge's Kubla Khan, then excusing himself, he makes his way to the tavern-bar. It is honestly nothing like Milliways, and it makes him miss the magical place at the end of the universe just a little.
Yvaine is not here with him, making some excuse about being tired and in pain and would he stop annoying her with his silly, useless questions? She just wanted to go to sleep. He had complied, though with some great reluctance; after all, he wasn't used to being away from her for extended periods of time. Even nights had been more or less spent together. He assured himself that it was because he was afraid of someone taking her away from him which would only bode well for once they got back to Wall, because he needed to present her to Victoria. There was no other reason.
"Tristran?"
At first, he looks up thinking that it is Yvaine, come to join him after all because she can't sleep. Instead he finds himself staring into the sea-green eyes of a very particularly pretty maiden, one with very golden curls similar to those of Victoria Forester.
"Yes, hello," he greets her, and she takes it as her cue to sit and join him.
"You were marvelous tonight," she drawls, voice light like chimes.
He smiles. "Well, thank you," he says politely.
"I don't know how you can remember all those stories, but they are utterly fascinating." She puts a large mug of something before him. He hadn't noticed the barman and her exchange any words but he accepts it gratefully, raising both eyebrows and taking a sip.
"That girl," she starts immediately, and Tristran notices that she is edging closer towards him, elbows leaning against the table's surface. "Is she your girlfriend?"
The question is asked in such a frank manner that for a moment, in pure and utter shock, Tristran chokes, spitting out his drink quite ungracefully. "Wh-what? No, of - of course not." He coughs, and this gives the maiden an excuse to touch him, because she does. Her hand goes to his back, lightly patting him. Honestly, Tristran wishes she wouldn't do that, as it isn't helping him any.
"I'm sorry -- I hope that wasn't inappropriate," she says without the faintest hint of apology.
"W-well," Tristran chokes, "I -- it's all right, really." It isn't. His eyes are watering.
She passes him a napkin, almost as though from thin air. "So she is nothing to you, then."
Tristran takes it and wipes his mouth, letting the last of the coughs vacate his throat. Then he turns to the maiden, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"Curious, really," comes the answer. Nonchalant, almost detached.
Tristran shrugs. "She and I are good friends," he replies. "And she means a lot to me."
This seems to deflate something in the maiden's face, making it a little uglier than it really ought to be. Tristran gives her a half-smile and straightens. "Well, I should probably be getting to my room now," he says by way of excusing himself. He puts the napkin down next to his unfinished drink and shifts to stand, but the girl has put her hand on his leg, freezing him from even taking another breath.
"Do you have to go so soon?" she croons, voice lower now.
Tristran's face goes red, and really, he isn't used to this sort of treatment at all. Being congratulated, and given renown for his ability to remember stories, certainly, but this...this isn't -- he doesn't want to, anyway, and what would Yvaine say if she saw --
"We could always take a walk around for a bit," she continues, and Tristran swallows. With a swift movement, he takes her hand from his leg and places it back in her lap awkwardly.
"I'm flattered, really, but I -- I am quite tired." He stands before she can say or do anything, then hurriedly rushes into the crowd in an attempt to blend in and disappear from her view.
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
There is applause, as per usual, as Tristran finishes reciting Coleridge's Kubla Khan, then excusing himself, he makes his way to the tavern-bar. It is honestly nothing like Milliways, and it makes him miss the magical place at the end of the universe just a little.
Yvaine is not here with him, making some excuse about being tired and in pain and would he stop annoying her with his silly, useless questions? She just wanted to go to sleep. He had complied, though with some great reluctance; after all, he wasn't used to being away from her for extended periods of time. Even nights had been more or less spent together. He assured himself that it was because he was afraid of someone taking her away from him which would only bode well for once they got back to Wall, because he needed to present her to Victoria. There was no other reason.
"Tristran?"
At first, he looks up thinking that it is Yvaine, come to join him after all because she can't sleep. Instead he finds himself staring into the sea-green eyes of a very particularly pretty maiden, one with very golden curls similar to those of Victoria Forester.
"Yes, hello," he greets her, and she takes it as her cue to sit and join him.
"You were marvelous tonight," she drawls, voice light like chimes.
He smiles. "Well, thank you," he says politely.
"I don't know how you can remember all those stories, but they are utterly fascinating." She puts a large mug of something before him. He hadn't noticed the barman and her exchange any words but he accepts it gratefully, raising both eyebrows and taking a sip.
"That girl," she starts immediately, and Tristran notices that she is edging closer towards him, elbows leaning against the table's surface. "Is she your girlfriend?"
The question is asked in such a frank manner that for a moment, in pure and utter shock, Tristran chokes, spitting out his drink quite ungracefully. "Wh-what? No, of - of course not." He coughs, and this gives the maiden an excuse to touch him, because she does. Her hand goes to his back, lightly patting him. Honestly, Tristran wishes she wouldn't do that, as it isn't helping him any.
"I'm sorry -- I hope that wasn't inappropriate," she says without the faintest hint of apology.
"W-well," Tristran chokes, "I -- it's all right, really." It isn't. His eyes are watering.
She passes him a napkin, almost as though from thin air. "So she is nothing to you, then."
Tristran takes it and wipes his mouth, letting the last of the coughs vacate his throat. Then he turns to the maiden, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"Curious, really," comes the answer. Nonchalant, almost detached.
Tristran shrugs. "She and I are good friends," he replies. "And she means a lot to me."
This seems to deflate something in the maiden's face, making it a little uglier than it really ought to be. Tristran gives her a half-smile and straightens. "Well, I should probably be getting to my room now," he says by way of excusing himself. He puts the napkin down next to his unfinished drink and shifts to stand, but the girl has put her hand on his leg, freezing him from even taking another breath.
"Do you have to go so soon?" she croons, voice lower now.
Tristran's face goes red, and really, he isn't used to this sort of treatment at all. Being congratulated, and given renown for his ability to remember stories, certainly, but this...this isn't -- he doesn't want to, anyway, and what would Yvaine say if she saw --
"We could always take a walk around for a bit," she continues, and Tristran swallows. With a swift movement, he takes her hand from his leg and places it back in her lap awkwardly.
"I'm flattered, really, but I -- I am quite tired." He stands before she can say or do anything, then hurriedly rushes into the crowd in an attempt to blend in and disappear from her view.
