thecapitol | Partying like its 1969

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Partying like its 1969

Who| Sonja and anyone who wants to join her
What| Partying it up like a fantasy barbarian
Where| The Swift Cut
When| A few days after the victors crowning
Warnings/Notes| This is Sonja, so expect sexiness, alcohol and lots of meat and possible fighting. As a side note, as many are aware, I'm not exactly speedy with my replies right now.

So, Sonja was hungry, frustrated and itching for a good tumble. And while she found this "restaurant" to be in very poor taste, it still served the most meat out of any of the other place. Mix that with a mug if alcohol, which tasted like piss to her, and she was content. Now all she needed was a pretty thing to keep her company and it would be near perfect.

Still, she couldn't help but glare at some of the stares she may occasionally receive before going back to her food. If they want a fight, then they could start it. No sense in getting further into trouble. Not now anyway, that could be for later. Once everything cooled down then she would freely break their noses and crack their skulls.

But no, instead she focused on her drink and food, the table she was at was a mess by now, and she was starting to feel a bit tipsy, excellent. "More!" She cried out after finishing another mug.

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Mindy was hungry. She was also in one of those states where, after another day of training and ignoring potential triggers for things, she could use some company, whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not. She was seated at another table, not so much noticing everyone else right now: when Mindy wanted to be ignored, she decidedly had it in her head no one else was that important either.

Of course, she was still sporting her brand on her face, so that was impossible now. As much as she wanted peace, there was no escaping certain looks some people gave her, and Mindy was all too ready to get up and show them what happened if they so much as spat in her direction, punishment be damned. Luckily for her, someone else here was certainly attracting more attention: with Sonja's usual garb and demeanor, likely they were paying less attention to her mark.

Perfect: if for no other reason, it'd be good to be around someone she knew and could talk to.

She walked over, more than a little pleased to see her sparring partner. "Mind if I come and drink and eat with you? Getting the cold shoulder on my end, and if that happens,bound to be thrown out of this bar for being disorderly."

Which meant she'd be throwing people out of the fucking window, of course.

Edited 2014-10-16 14:18 (UTC)

"Of course I don't." This was said with a mouthful of food, of course. Hardly attractive for one such as herself. But Sonja couldn't really care about personal appearances. Unless, of course, she was laying with them. In which case they were extremely important, along with their performance.

"What would you like?"

Mindy shrugged. "A few chicken pieces my way couldn't hurt, and whatever drink you're at right now. I'm not in the mood to be picky about stuff like that."

Just as long as the beer wasn't skunky. She'd learned by now she could stomach just about any kind of beer as long as it was cold as shit. Anything less than that, likely Mindy would be nursing that for a good hour, trying not to gag every now and again.

"After a funeral and some days of rick solid training, I could use a few hours of vice. I'm guessing you're feeling the same way."

Sonja was rather certain that she was drinking alcohol of some kind. Though she wasn't entirely certain what it was. It tasted a bit like a dark beer, but no where near as alcoholic as the ones she was used to back in the savage lands of Hyboria. But hey, if the girl thought she could handle some alcohol, then so be it. She motioned for a waiter to take the order before slapping them on their bum and sending them on their way.

Sometimes it felt good to be her.

"Perhaps I am. However I was looking for something closer to home...not this."

The young girl would keep to herself how much alcohol she'd had so far: it was the only way to get any decent gossip, although she could sometimes over drink, and when that DID happen she wound up punishing herself by working out extra even when the headaches were pretty bad. Self discipline was a bitch, but this place had a way of making sure you lived up to everything they expected of you.

"Well, they probably won't want you to enjoy it too much. You might get comfortable and then you'd lose your entertainment value, right?"

She made a face. "I swear, there's almost no place where you can just, you know, cut loose."

This musing, of course, was punctured by her savaging a nearby drumstick.

"No, there is not." That was a truth she knew. An unfortunate one at that. But they still would have to take what they could in the mean time. Even if that meant some nearly over-cooked meat and a beer that didn't have as much kick to it as she would prefer. What Sonja would give for some Cimmerian beer right now.

"Best to keep quiet for now. Wait for the moment to unleash your potential." And gods above help those that got in her way.

"Even in a place like this, you can't even have a decent bar fight," Mindy complained. "There's always gotta be some guy worried about how much it'll cost or what it'll say to people in the bar. It's so dumb."

Clearly Mindy had already had a full on bar fight. She was ever the gentle victor.

"Definitely heard that song before," Mindy said, grimacing. "So what do you do, when all this shit is hopeless and at a standstill?"

"This is true." There were times when she just wanted to make a drunk swallow his own teeth. But unfortunately that would have to wait as well. When there were so many eyes on you, it would often prove to be prudent to avoid violence against civilians as best as possible.

So far. "I create hope."

Mindy wondered if Sonja getting into a bar fight would really be as bad as the woman thought. With how fiery she was, they would probably be chimping at the bit to sponsor her.

"By eating lots of food and drinking?" Ok, she was slightly trolling there. "Sounds more like vices to me."

Well perhaps she just needed to be given the right push and incentive then? To defend her own honor against a drunk was pointless here. These in power would most likely just twist it around to make her into the villain. Sonja could kill these people by the droves, of that she was certain. But the mob usually featured thousands. If she was going to fight here, it would be in either self-defense from bodily harm, or for another person.

"Yes." She quirked her lips up, amused. "Though living as if you were in the honored halls of the dead, often creates a light mood."

"Valhala?" Mindy might not be ad schooled ad most people, but she knew enough about certain things and folklore. It was pretty much what a heathen like her had to hope for: likely, the Christian God wouldn't be pleased with Mindy the killer.

"Sounds like a plan." A nearby man gave Mindy a disgusted look. Mindy responded to by flipping him off.

"What was that gesture now, little traitor?"

Here came trouble.

Sonja has no clue what Christianity is. Though she would have encountered similar sects in her travels. Either way, that wasn't something she believed in , she believed in gods that would have been long since forgotten by the world. "Yes, a place of great honor."

One that most would struggle to reach.

That being said she ignores the other person, it was just someone attempting to make trouble.

"Nothing that concerns you," Mindy said coldly, and something in her look made the guy back down. Traitor he might have thought, but they had also seen her go toe to toe with people and come out the winner. Mindy was not one to be reckoned with, whatever people might think.

"That your goal, after all this? A place of honor to rest your bones? I don't know too many full blooded warriors where I'm from."

Brock has been in this godforsaken place for over a week now. When he first arrived, he went on something like a three-day bender just because he didn't want to deal with everything, the implications and what the future held. As he began to sober up, though, he found that there were maybe some things that he could do here that could make a difference here. That was always more important to him than anything else; something to focus on instead of impending personal miseries and horror.

That said, he's still pretty interested in drinking. If only because most people tended to be a little loose-lipped when they're well enough into their cups.

This particular restaurant isn't one he's been to before, having skipped it when he was going on his extended bar crawl last week. It's... interesting. He might not get any information here, but maybe he'll get like a nice piece of lamb or something.

Or, he thinks as he notices the redhead over there screaming about booze, a nice piece of something else.

He signals to one of the weird barbarian-dressed employees that he wants to buy that woman a drink, and she's summarily bussed over another mug, courtesy of that blond guy over there.

Oh Samson, she's just going to quirk an eyebrow at you before looking at the drink with high suspicion. The last time she was given a drink by someone who wasn't a bartender, she was poisoned and left for dead in an alleyway. Well, then again that typically happens even if she gets from a bartender. So, what the hey, she heartily gulps it down and goes back to eating.

You're going to have to do more than just buy a drink and sit in the same spot, expecting her to approach.

Okay, well. That usually works. Brock quirks his own eyebrow at her reaction, because this might be more of a challenge than he's used to -- which he's not complaining about, mind.

He downs his own mug of beer before heading over, taking the liberty of ordering a literal whole chicken because wow she is just going to town on that food, huh. Maybe that's the avenue to take instead of alcohol.

"Hey," he says, arriving at around the same time the chicken gets plunked down by waitstaff. "This your usual haunt?"

Because she is dressed the part... is what he means...

Not every one person is the same, he should get used to this fact.

Just like how she doesn't seem to be impressed with the size of his muscles, but at least he took the initiative, that was something. Though what he would do with it was not yet known. "No."

A simple answer for a simple question. On that was filled with bits of food that had been stuffed into her mouth. The staff hardly seemed to care though, she was the one helping to keep them in business right now. "Am I to guess that it's yours?"

Well, she's to the point. That's something to be admired, among other things. But Brock is starting to get the sense that this woman appreciates directness more than anything else, so he changes tack a little.

He snorts, tilting his head slightly. "I think that's the way this usually goes," he says. Flirtatious guessing games, blah blah. "But no. I just got here."

The easiest way to get somewhere was to go straight. Something this person seemed to be sorely lacking. "Well then welcome."

What else was there for her to say? She wasn't in the mood for poems or woe is me stories. She was here for a good time, and nothing more. If anyone were to challenge that, then bad things would happen.

"Yeah, I wouldn't go that far."

Because, you know. Forced murder orgies and all that stuff.

She doesn't seem particularly interested in small talk, though, which is fine. Brock rolls his shoulder and jerks his head toward the door. "Anyway. Wanted to know if you'd be up for getting out of here."

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