heyfreemagic | (no subject)

[When shadows are living forces and your city is under attack, it's no surprise that some people are driven to drink. Those newly brought into the city have been dragged into an unfamiliar place away from their homes, pushed into a fight they know nothing about, and saddled with abilities they likely never asked for. It's a lot to take in.

The go-to method for Greg is to avoid making waves and just try to get along with other, normal people, while someone else can handle the issue. Unfortunately, none of the normal people seem to be willing to get along. For all his efforts, he can barely get one-word responses out of the best of them, and general disdainful looks from all. Not to say it's an unfamiliar circumstance, but with everything else it's all too much to deal with right now.

Greg hasn't drunk a whole lot since the birth of his kid, but his kid's not here, which is a conflicting matter all its own. He's nursing a beer alone at a table, tuning his guitar softly. The rest of the barflies don't seem happy to have him there, since, well, they're presumably here to drink and forget about all these foreigners. Still, they accepted the few crumpled bills from his wallet without too much complaint.

They may have to get used to sharing the space, should anyone else feel like coming for some pressure release.]

Threaded | Flat

[ Wash has had about enough. The coping techniques he'd developed in the Realm of Dreams weren't applicable, as they namely relied on friends he'd made who weren't here, and the coping mechanisms he'd developed during Freelancer were hard to slip back into, given how far he'd come since then. He'd thought about heading down into the underground to be alone and try to clear his head; the roiling mass of shadows that had met him when he'd headed down there had convinced him very quickly that that was not a good idea.]

[So he'd found a bar. It wasn't the best solution - he could take the edge off, sure, but he couldn't ever really forget, even when he was drunk - but it was a solution nonetheless. Of course, nobody in the bar looked too happy to see him - surprise, surprise - so he took a seat next to the one guy who hadn't immediately expressed his displeasure when Wash had walked into the room. The beer was cheap and terrible, but Wash was beyond giving a fuck.]

Edited 2015-06-16 01:12 (UTC)

[Casey can't seem to wind down. It's become pretty clear to him that he's going to have to fight about three times as hard to get any respect from anyone and it's put a serious bug up his butt. But after a few hours of running around the city, trying and failing to find a way to burn off his energy, he's ready for a drink and a sit-down.

But there just isn't a whole lot around here, except this bar, which, whatever, Casey's spent enough of his time in bars to know they'll sell him a soda or something, if begrudgingly. And nobody seems to want to give him a seat -though he walked in like he'd been here before, apparently you couldn't fool them- except for the old bald dude apparently preparing for the mother of all combovers.]

[ So. Magic is a thing. Shadow creatures are a thing. His medical tech is and isn't as advanced as it could be considering that healing magic is, apparently, a thing.

After settling in as best he could finding that bar? Seemed like the best option. He's not all that surprised to find Greg there, but the guitar is new. ]

Tell me you know some Johnny Cash.