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+--- Thread: 「 ❝ making love to his tonic and gin ❞ & — intro 」 (/showthread.php?tid=1255)
「 ❝ making love to his tonic and gin ❞ & — intro 」 - Beatles. - 05-11-2018
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; color: black; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family:arial;"]( backwriting that eli has been here for a while so feel free to already know him/be acquainted with him if you wish! + song)
"And the waitress is practicing politics, as the businessmen slowly get stoned. Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinkin' alone..."
The melodic voice of none other than Billy Joel quietly played from the speakers installed on the walls. The walls themselves were decorated with illuminated signs, posters, and framed photos (of mostly liquor memorabilia), and there was hardly a square inch of wall that wasn't covered up. Besides the vintage, fifties-style graphics of dolled-up women and jolly-looking men holding pints of beer, the bar itself was pretty empty. The only person holding down the fort was none other than Eli Russo. "The Oak", as it was called, was his pride and joy. Not only did it earn him a decent income, but a lot of interesting faces came rolling in every week. He met new people, talked with friends, and got free beer. Perhaps it wasn't the ideal job, but it was pretty much all he knew how to do. After working at his father's pub in his young adulthood, he acquired the skills necessary to run such an establishment. So, upon arriving in Austria (or Kalopsia, as it was initially named), he renovated an old bar and made it his own. It was simple, but then again, Eli was fine with a simple life. No stress piling on his shoulders (except for happy hour), no politics, just serving people drinks.
Sunlight streamed into the window, streaking the walls with amber. It was the late afternoon afters, and Eli anticipated that people would start showing up soon. He opened at 11 AM, and it was usually slow until 4 PM or so, which was approaching soon. The song played over the muted television that was currently playing some sort of sitcom. Behind the counter was Eli himself, the brown-haired and brown-eyed barkeep. He was wearing a dark red flannel, his sleeves rolled up as he tidied up the place.
He polished the surface of the counter with a damp rag, making sure no spot was untouched. He glanced up briefly at the television screen before turning back to the task at hand. Eli whistled along to the song, a favorite of his among many. He always adored the classics, after all.
"Sing us a song you're the piano man, sing us a song tonight. Well we're all in the mood for a melody, and you got us feeling alright..."
Re: 「 ❝ making love to his tonic and gin ❞ & — intro 」 - tinsel - 05-12-2018
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music, that was new to bianca. the best they'd had growing up were their voices and the beat of their hands as they slapped exposed thighs. the lyrics seemed to change every time they sang a song, none of them ever sung on time. no instruments, no choruses, no proper composure of it all. when she'd escaped, four years prior, and she'd heard an album, she'd been amazed at how much work could go into a pass time. but the real beauty of it, perhaps, was lost on the blonde. it was pleasant in the background, but she knew only a dozen songs and really liked only a few less than that.
alcohol, though? that was a familiar friend. the men who'd kept them prisoner all her life, every now and then they'd get drunk and jolly and toss a few drinks into the cage she shared with her brother. cage to cage, they'd pass these bottles, everyone taking a few sips and passing it along. it was home made, tasting foul and making them choke, but it did the job. it made their bodies ache a little less, made it easier to smile. it made the smallness of their crates seem less enclosing, made the heat burn less. alcohol was a familiar friend, a close confidant, someone she could trust to make it all hurt less. just the thought of it reminded her of good nights, of which she'd known so few.
she hadn't been inside of the oak before, though. it wasn't that she didn't get out, because she did - she just didn't go in. places like bars, they had a certain ambiance that she never felt like she fit. pretty girls with red lips and old men with stories to tell. who was she? a woman with scarred skin and a sad story no one wanted to hear. so when she drank, she usually stuck to the outdoors or her apartment. it was easier that way. but as she made her way in, it became clear that this was all interesting to her. dark eyes danced across the walls with the intricate posters, the lights and the bottles. she was still amazed by electricity, something she hadn't known before she'd made her escape. silly as it might be, sometimes she'd just sit in her room and flip the lights on and off, amazed at how it worked.
she just stood there for a minute, looking around, clearly interested in it all, before her eyes landed on elias. stuffing her hands in the pockets of her pants as she walked over, she'd remove a hand to point to one of the posters with one of the women, all dolled up. "did women really look like that? before?" she inquired, english accent curling her words, features marred with curiosity. she understood that, by any standards, she wouldn't be considered beautiful. perhaps her face was lovely, they'd never hit her in the face, but the loose fitting black camisole she wore exposed arms covered in scars of whips and knives and bullets. decades of violence extracted on her. the predominate scar across her neck, wrapping artery to artery. the thick, ash colored curls that hung around her features, parted to the side, they did little to distract from the marks. but they weren't intended to distract from them, because bianca couldn't care in the slightest what people thought of them, and she hadn't in many years.
her eyes shifting to the bottles, lingering on them, before moving back to elias. "can i have a drink?" she didn't know many names, and didn't especially care about them. "just something that tastes alright." she'd add, because nothing she ever drank tasted good, but she wasn't seeking effects that the moment. it was too early for that. she simply wanted to see what a bar was really like, and it wouldn't be proper to sit there and not order.
Re: 「 ❝ making love to his tonic and gin ❞ & — intro 」 - Beatles. - 05-13-2018
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; color: black; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family:arial;"]Music had always been apart of Eli's life. He had grown up with the songs of the seventies and eighties, and even some of the modern songs that were offered. It was a good coping mechanism that wasn't something destructive, like cigarettes or booze. Some songs even carried him through his depression years ago, and he had the music to thank for not letting him slip under. The songs that played in the bar were transmitted via radio half of the time, but mostly, it was Eli's own personal mix that filled the place. Billy Joel, Led Zeppelin, The Police... It gave the bar a much more vintage vibe to it. It reminded you of the past, in a sense. It reminded you of a world that was much simpler.
In the middle of his polishing, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. The little bell above the door jingled, signaling that someone had arrived. That someone happened to be Bianca, a girl that he had met a little while ago, and a girl that happened to be his neighbor. They were... friends. Ish. He wouldn't call her his best friend, but he was fine talking with her. As she pointed to a poster, his gaze followed and he eyed it as well. It was in French, and he never understood what it said, though it appeared to be a woman holding a bottle of champagne. Her crinkled eyes and her pearly white smile was timeless, and he couldn't help but wonder if people were really that jovial all those years ago. "In the forties and fifties, yeah." Eli shrugged; he was pretty sure those were from that time period, anyways. He wasn't too sure- he hadn't originally put up the posters, after all. The bartender glanced back at Bianca, a sight that was always interesting to behold. He didn't see people like her that often — there were people with birthmarks and beauty spots, but Bianca's markings told a story. A story he didn't know anything about. A story that he doubted he would learn. When he had first met her, he had been a bit shocked to see how much she went through, but now he knew that those scars didn't define her. And why would they? She was, overall, a pretty face. That didn't mean much to Elias — he could appreciate how someone looked without rushing into anything. He wasn't, well, desperate.
Eli blinked, setting the damp towel to the side as Bianca requested an order. It... wasn't very specific, though. "Something that tastes good", she said. "Well, that depends. What tastes good to you?" He asked, giving a small raise of his eyebrows. Alcohol tasted different to everyone, and it all depended on what you liked. Hell, alcohol wasn't even consumed for its taste (most of the time). It was consumed because of the effects. Eli knew about this first-hand, but over the years, he had acquired an appreciation for all types of drinks. "You more of a hard liquor girl or fruity kind of girl?" He asked her, trying to get a feel for what to make. Ideas were brewing in his mind already.