irondruid: (002)
Atticus O'Sullivan ([personal profile] irondruid) wrote in [community profile] all_inclusive2014-03-21 07:45 pm

(no subject)

I never really appreciated just how difficult it is to teach an apprentice. I knew it would be tough the second I said yes to Granuaile, because becoming a druid takes practice, patience, and most of all, time. Twelve whole years of it.

Seven years in, and I've long since understood what difficult truly means. Sometimes Granuaile gets frustrated (who can blame her? I wasn't much better during my own apprenticeship), and sometimes I channel my old archdruid more than I care to admit. He was a shit excuse for a human being, but a brilliant druid and teacher. I'm being a bit of the former today, I will admit, and coupled with Granuaile's frustration over our current project, the day hasn't been going well. At all.

When Granuaile slams a door in my face for the third time today, I decide we should probably take a break. I hear the Geekmobile start up and drive off, and I sigh. She'll be going into town to blow off steam, and I've long since stopped tailing her, content to let us both cool off and come back when we can handle it.

I'm about to reach out to Oberon as I go down the hall and open my bedroom door, but as I step through, everything changes.

Again.

"So this wasn't a weird fever dream," I say out loud. I scrunch my bare feet in the carpet and take off down the hall that opens out into a lobby that looks very familiar. I head over to the main doors and peer outside. Yep, the view is exactly as I remembered it, and I'm glad I haven't eaten since dawn.

I turn back to face the lobby and take a good look at the people around, and wonder who I'll meet this time. Thor again? Al Capone? Ooh, Captain Mal? Fingers crossed it's someone interesting.

Maybe I'll have some more time to study the magical patterns here and figure out how they work - and how I can work with them.

I can find the door home in a little while.
trulyoracular: (odin & baldr)

[personal profile] trulyoracular 2014-03-23 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
Olaf is stoned.

No, it's not like this is an event or something that's really out of the ordinary, but it does make him wonder if maybe he ought to stop smoking so much while he's in a place where his sense should probably be on high alert. Still, it doesn't exactly matter because if there's a threat, he'll probably find out when he's in trouble.

So he reiterates no promise that he's ever made to completely relax. "Hi," he greets the bloke wandering through the lobby like he's looking for someone. "You here to relax?" he asks, tapping his front pocket with his palm to give a signal.
trulyoracular: (Default)

[personal profile] trulyoracular 2014-03-25 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)

"They don't charge me a dollar of rent and don't make noises about contributing if I see the need to stay." Because obviously Mike had gone for that care of Val and even Ty had started to make those little faces that usually was a prelude to being kicked out. After all, apparently blood doesn't run thicker than low hydro bills. "I don't leave unless I have to," he says, reclining back and relaxing back happily, looking over the man and wondering why there's a blinking light in the back of his mind telling him to pay attention.

There's nothing about the man that Olaf really thinks bears investigating, after all.

trulyoracular: (Default)

[personal profile] trulyoracular 2014-03-27 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)

"I don't know that everyone hangs out like that," Olaf feels compelled to say, because pointing out the truth of his own volition and without any fear of consequence is generally one of his favourite things to do. He's happy to let other people worry about the consequences and ramifications. "I like to," he says. "Mostly because I generally don't pay much rent at home and this plays tries to kick me out less."

Though, he can't sleep behind the bar here the way he does at home. "And their policies are surprisingly lax."

trulyoracular: (Default)

[personal profile] trulyoracular 2014-03-31 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)

"Time is a manmade construct that hinges on small arms telling me when it is," he replies, which might sound deep and vaguely like he's one with the earth, but the truth is that between the drugs, the alcohol, and the general oracle and god settings in his brain, Olaf doesn't really cope with the telling of time as well as other people might.

He'd check his watch, but he can't really afford one of those and it's not that he really wants one, either. "The real answer is long enough that the housekeepers hate pushing my surfboard and other stuff aside to get in."