Well, as I expected, it’s fecking hot down here in Florida. I expect I’ll get used to it. It helps that I’ve found myself a place to get in a drink or three, and I’m getting to know the natives. And what an excitingly diverse bunch they are.
I set out in search of refreshment, but managed to get myself lost. I know, the great explorer, lost on a small island. Give me the great wide open, on sea or land, and I’m fine. Stick me in a strange town, and well… Anyway, I was wandering around in the hope of finding a bar and ran into a bunch of people hanging around on a street corner. I thought I had walked into some sort of situation, given the tension I felt, but one of the group, an orc by the look of things, trotted off. Don’t think we ever had an orc on WOI. Did I say this was a diverse place?
Anyway, whatever had gone down, it was over by the time I turned up and asked about getting a drink somewhere. One guy looked a little worse for wear, Cal, I think his name was, but from conversation I heard later, I think that was down to sleeping rough rather than any altercation. He seemed attached to with a young lady, Glory, I later learned, who looked like she had fallen out of a Renn Faire, or possibly a Jane Austen novel. Hey, I’m no fashion expert, ok, or history expert, come to that. Well, save for my own personal experience over the past 200 odd years, but that probably doesn’t help. And there was another lass, blonde, pretty one with pointed ears, so I guessed elven or fae. She also looked like she had been in the wars, with her arm in a sling. Why, I didn’t find out.
I asked about where I might get a drink and the blonde one gave me directions. I was feeling in a sociable mood, so I asked if anybody else was coming for a drink, since I wasn’t in the mood for drinking alone. They were obviously also feeling sociable as they all came along. The blonde introduced herself as Laila, like in the song, but with an I instead of a Y. Well, that’s one way to make sure I remember. Duly noted, Laila with an I. I learned later that she was an obtainer of antiquities, only better looking than Indiana Jones. Or possibly she ran an antique shop on the island, but that doesn’t sound anywhere as near as exciting.
The drinking establishment turned out to be a strip joint, or pole-dancing joint, possibly both. Not quite my normal scene, and for a few moments, I missed Jerry’s place, Raftery’s, back in Seattle, which was a much higher-toned bar. Well, Jerry liked to think so anyway. Ah well, I’ve no objection to the lasses dancing, with or without their clothes, and the place seemed to have a well-stocked bar, so, what the hell? The lass in the dress, Glory, thought it looked like a faerie cave. I told her it wasn’t like any faerie cave I knew, and I’ve seen a few, except for old Theovoire’s. That was more like a BDSM club, but I didn’t pass on that tidbit of information. Glory looked overwhelmed by the place as it was and probably didn’t need that image.
The barkeep, by the way, was something else. He goes by the name of Henry, but what manner of critter he was I did not learn. I suppose he could be some kind of satyr, but resembled Dyisi about as much as a Great Dane resembles a poodle. Personally, I thought he looked like Ambassador Kosh from Babylon 5 had fucked a goat and this was the offspring. Not that it matters. He turned out to be amiable enough and pours a good drink, and that’s the important thing.
We got to drinking, well, some of us did. Glory confused the barkeep by wanting juice of some sort. He eventually found some, but wasn’t overly impressed with the concept. She and Cal were mostly concerned with finding somewhere to stay. From what I had heard, they may have spent the night on the beach. I could have advised them on that, having done so many times, but then, I was once a pioneer. I don’t think either of them looked like they knew what that was.
We were joined by Vasa, an actual satyr, albeit of a somewhat more impressive stature than Dyisi. Maybe that’s the way with their kind, males bigger than the females. I’m fecked if I know. Up until I met Dyisi, I didn’t even know female satyrs existed. His lady, Elayne, looked human, but then, most of the time, so do I, so that’s no guide. She also looked like she could do a mean turn on the catwalk or dance pole, and from later conversation, apparently she does. As, come to that, does Vasa himself. Turns out they own the joint. That’s fair. Satyrs, my friend Dyisi excepting, are known for being horny and playing music, so a strip joint/pole dancing club is entirely appropriate.
We drank, we chatted about various things, including why I became a mechanic, the obtaining of antiquities, dancing and stuff. Somebody called Vrice, who looked like an angel, turned up and offered Cal and Glory jobs at their restaurant, a place called the Elemental Hearth. Thinking about it later, maybe it was an elemental rather than an angel, hence the name of the restaurant. In my defence, I’ve never met an elemental, so I can’t really be blamed for not knowing. I’ve never met an angel either, but at least I know what they look like.
I would have stayed longer, but I got a call from the mainland; a late arrival needing the ferry. Far be it from me to turn down the extra money, even if it was interrupting my drinking time. I bade my new friends farewell and headed for the boat. I think I’m going to like it here.