Post by Prince Kai-Mijo on Jun 21, 2008 22:31:55 GMT -5
Ah, yes. The ever lively teahouse. Bards, prostitutes, drunken sailors, drunken other sailors...teahouse seemed to be a bit of an ambiguous title, as, really, there was more sake being exchanged than actual tea, and the steepers were spending more of their time restocking on the wine than doing their job of...well, steeping tea.
A few warriors were scattered about here and there, thinking they owned the place with their banded armor and clinking swords and pansy topknots. While it seemed the place could sink no lower, however, the owner, an elderly lady, continuously kept her workers at bay by pointing out that... "...at least it's good for business."
True, true. Ever was the excuse of the most peculiar looking man nestled in the corner, completely out of place in this homogeneous nation with his shock of golden blond curls. He was obviously tipsy...well, okay, full blown drunk was more like it, and asking anyone around the tea house, such had been the case for several days. Perhaps it was the constant stream of servers rushing over with the next bottle of sake, but they knew not to complain for the man did tip handsomely.
Still, there had to be a cutoff point SOMEwhere. While the westerner could hold his alcohol like no other, it didn't mean he wasn't an obnoxious disruption to those in the immediate...well, not so immediate vicinity.
"'Ey~! Wheresh the demon blood saposta' be? Yew all calling thish the most 'potent' wine available on yer little scattering of islands?!" Such slurs were unexpected from the otherwise aristocratic looking man, who, in other situations, would probably be rather striking if he were actually composed.
Obviously that wasn't the case in this situation.
First, there had been several attempts to drag him off to one of the other rooms reserved for private parties. While paper screens did little to deaden sound, at least it would keep him out of everyone else's line of sight.
As that had obviously failed, they tried to bribe him with more wine as a 'parting gift' of sorts, the two words enforced rather strongly as if to make a point. Which, of course, he chose to ignore completely.
Third, they had tried to threaten him, and not only the workers stepped up to this challenge, but even the regular teahouse goers like the lowly samurai and the like had attempted to intimidate him out of the place. Surprisingly, even drunk, his ability with his rapier seemed to remain steadfast.
So for the most part, everyone had tried to become accustomed to ignoring him, though by the pained looks on their faces, it was rather obvious that that wasn't working in the least. All they could do now was pray that somehow, someone would come along and put an end to this.
"Hey, at least he 'aint like the sailors who go tryin' to shove their hands down the ladies' yukata once they're a bit tipsy..."
Of course, after that waitress had whispered that tidbit to her coworker did Lucien randomly decide to stick his hand down a passing maid's collar; quite unceremonious, particularly for him.
"Right, forget I said that," the waitress mumbled through the sudden shriek and sound slap that rang from the same corner.
A few warriors were scattered about here and there, thinking they owned the place with their banded armor and clinking swords and pansy topknots. While it seemed the place could sink no lower, however, the owner, an elderly lady, continuously kept her workers at bay by pointing out that... "...at least it's good for business."
True, true. Ever was the excuse of the most peculiar looking man nestled in the corner, completely out of place in this homogeneous nation with his shock of golden blond curls. He was obviously tipsy...well, okay, full blown drunk was more like it, and asking anyone around the tea house, such had been the case for several days. Perhaps it was the constant stream of servers rushing over with the next bottle of sake, but they knew not to complain for the man did tip handsomely.
Still, there had to be a cutoff point SOMEwhere. While the westerner could hold his alcohol like no other, it didn't mean he wasn't an obnoxious disruption to those in the immediate...well, not so immediate vicinity.
"'Ey~! Wheresh the demon blood saposta' be? Yew all calling thish the most 'potent' wine available on yer little scattering of islands?!" Such slurs were unexpected from the otherwise aristocratic looking man, who, in other situations, would probably be rather striking if he were actually composed.
Obviously that wasn't the case in this situation.
First, there had been several attempts to drag him off to one of the other rooms reserved for private parties. While paper screens did little to deaden sound, at least it would keep him out of everyone else's line of sight.
As that had obviously failed, they tried to bribe him with more wine as a 'parting gift' of sorts, the two words enforced rather strongly as if to make a point. Which, of course, he chose to ignore completely.
Third, they had tried to threaten him, and not only the workers stepped up to this challenge, but even the regular teahouse goers like the lowly samurai and the like had attempted to intimidate him out of the place. Surprisingly, even drunk, his ability with his rapier seemed to remain steadfast.
So for the most part, everyone had tried to become accustomed to ignoring him, though by the pained looks on their faces, it was rather obvious that that wasn't working in the least. All they could do now was pray that somehow, someone would come along and put an end to this.
"Hey, at least he 'aint like the sailors who go tryin' to shove their hands down the ladies' yukata once they're a bit tipsy..."
Of course, after that waitress had whispered that tidbit to her coworker did Lucien randomly decide to stick his hand down a passing maid's collar; quite unceremonious, particularly for him.
"Right, forget I said that," the waitress mumbled through the sudden shriek and sound slap that rang from the same corner.