shivving: (Default)
Joel Miller ([personal profile] shivving) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2017-07-13 02:13 pm

whiskey river take my mind

Who: Joel and Evie
Where: The bar
When: Immediately following this thread
Rating: Joel
Summary: Joel tries valiantly, once again, to remove his foot from his mouth where Evie is concerned.
The Story:

[ Joel's not a big drinker, at least not to the point where it negatively impacts his life. Maybe it had been some subtle, unconscious knowledge that if he let himself fall into a bottle after Sarah's death, he'd never crawl back out again. Maybe it had been Tommy, keeping him from the brink. But for whatever reason, alcohol had never been his poison of choice.

But some occasions require a drink, and learning of the existence of his Mirror, discovering just what he'd done to Ellie, is one of those times. By the time Evie arrives at the bar, Joel's already got a good head start on her, having pregamed, so to speak, back in his own room before he'd addressed the network.

He still remembers "their" meeting on the other side of the mirror, her particular brand of scotch, and he nods when she arrives, pushing an already-poured glass in front of the stool next to his. ]

Glenlivet. Jus' twelve year, I'm afraid.
nascensibility: but if it is then ʘ‿ʘ (can't tell if that's sarcasm)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-14 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn is not a fount of infinite forgiveness and Joel is a continuous source of frustration, so sooner or later something is going to have to give. Until then she can accept a thoughtless (in the sense that she does not think he considered it before offering it) invitation to "have a drink," in the parlance of the times, with a man seemingly incapable of conducting conversation like a normal person.

Even so, it is with absolute confidence that she can state she has heard worse appeals than his. At least this "apology" is in-person.

She raises an eyebrow as soon as he hastens to explain his selection of liquor, as she is more than surprised to see a familiar bottle. It's an unsatisfactory introduction - Evelyn assumes he asked someone who knows her, or how else could he be aware of the nostalgia she holds for it? - but she doesn't ask questions.

Only twelve? Well. That's disappointing. [Sliding onto the stool next to him coolly, Evelyn nudges him with her elbow.] ...I'm joking. Don't look like such a sourpuss.
nascensibility: give me a reason to hurt you why don't you (hold the fuck up what u say)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-15 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
I imagine there are probably some- what, potato...stills? In bathtubs? Or in mortuaries, if those are still around?

[Evelyn remembers hearing about the banning abroad, not from anyone she knew well - Europe was a little too attached to its wine and whiskey to let a bunch of angry old biddies force religious abstention down their throats - but on her first dig the Americans were profoundly attached to their bourbon. She didn't entirely understand why until Jonathan pointed out to her that they couldn't get it back home thanks to the Women's Christian Temperance Union.

When folk couldn't put their hands on the real thing they would turn to Bevo, or the speakeasies with shelves of home-distilled liquor, the drinks cut with preserving alcohol from funeral homes. As far she's aware, some of the more vile coffin varnishes drove imbibers blind.

I wasn't in the States during the Prohibition, of course, but I heard about the drys and the sorts of spirits people would turn to, if they got desperate enough.

[She looks down at her beverage, contemplating quietly.]

You don't really strike me as a drinker.
nascensibility: let's face it, I'm pretty adorable (lots of people like me)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-19 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
[She watches him, more preoccupied with the insular, reserved body language than she is with her drink. Joel wouldn't have invited her here just to sit about, as he is aware she isn't that sort of person. Nor can she imagine he was truly enraptured with the idea of being in her company, when he has found it so objectionable before.

No, she is of a mind that perhaps he required her singular brand of nudging and simply doesn't know it. Elbow on the counter, chin resting in one of her hands she flicks his shoulder with the other.

Stop making that face, it'll stick.

[Before he can swing a retort Evelyn is already barreling forward.]

I met a handful of Texans on my first expedition, [she states blithely,] Do people still dress like cowboys there?
Edited 2017-07-21 03:50 (UTC)
nascensibility: just after religious parables and wives' tales (I hate clichés they're the worst)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-24 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Good God, was that a smile? Alert the presses. Evelyn grins, hardly convinced by his pathetic excuse for an argument, and traces the etching in her glass with one finger.]

You know, the rugged...denim-wearing look? Those tall boots with the pointed toes, and the wide-brimmed hats?

[If she squinted, she might have been able to imagine him in the same attire, albeit looking less than enthused about it. Evelyn shrugs, as though it should be obvious what she means.]

Like cowboys.
nascensibility: and I am honestly feeling so attacked right now (I came out to have a good time)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-25 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn tries not to let it show how much a single word has suddenly confused her, in that she does not understand its modern context with regards to American infrastructure. The English suburbs are municipalities, communities of the wealthy escaping urban life and establishing themselves away from the previously rural poor.

Working class people live and labour in the same place, it doesn't make practical sense for employees to have to commute so far to factories. But neither does Joel strike her as someone who grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, particularly given the way he'd laughed at her when she told him about her family's staff.

Things must have changed. Evelyn makes a small, mental note to commit to some minor research regarding industrialisation's effect on city housing in the 20th century.

Is that- like a...ehm. I'm sorry, I don't- I don't know what that means.
nascensibility: and so are you (Ernest Hemingway was full of Schlitz)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-26 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh, thank God. It's precisely what she thought it was, although it seems as though the demographic of people inhabiting "suburbs" has changed.

Still, she doesn't interrupt. A slightly impersonal explanation, but it's just enough to paint a landscape of the place where Joel grew up. Small-to-medium sized houses, little fences around little lawns, domestic. Tranquil. A neighbourhood where the only scandal was probably someone planting roses out of season.

Chin in her hand Evelyn smiles slowly, watching him, delighted by this fragmentary history.
nascensibility: because I'm a walking, talking example of one (know any recipes for disaster?)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-27 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
You know,

[Evelyn breaks away from her earnest attention, reaching across the bar for a curl of orange peel. After depositing it in her drink she leans back and gives him a sly look.]

That might be the most you've ever said in one go since we first met.
nascensibility: Imma let you finish- WAIT, no, psych (ah I see you have come to mansplain)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-07-28 02:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn, sensing that Joel's glass is lacking the sort of substantial material required for an early evening session of drinking, genteelly nudges the bottle in front of her his way without another word.

He's gone quiet again, however, indicating that she's already made him uncomfortable by pointing out how unsociable he is. (Honestly, though, is it an insult when it's a fact? She settles for diversion.)

...The- ah, the Texans I mentioned were part of this- I wouldn't call it a rival group of archaeologists, they very clearly only had one Egyptologist at their disposal, so they were more like treasure hunters. Their intention was to find the same lost city that I was looking for at the time. Made a bet they would locate it first.

[The words come easier facilitated by liquor, even if she isn't entirely sure why she's recounting this story. Maybe because she hasn't told it in such a long time. Maybe because she's afraid of forgetting it.]

The trip was going rather well until the riverboat caught fire.
nascensibility: e v e r y t h i n g (you know what sucks?)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-08-02 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn takes a moment to be absolutely flabbergasted at him, because while it's possible that Joel is speaking for the sake of offering verbal acknowledgement, he also just executed an extremely subtle and perfectly deadpan pun.

Perhaps it was unintentional. He doesn't appear to be waiting for an audience to laugh.

We- ah. Lost the boat- [And her books. And her clothes. And the horses.] Had to barter for camels and spent days in the desert until we found the city and-

[As she speaks, her free hand flutters briefly to her necklace, then away again as she waves it dismissively.]

I'm sure you don't want to hear about that, it's sort of a...bloody story. The Texans didn't make it.
nascensibility: the family business (touching things)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-08-09 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Definitely a pun, then.

She raises an eyebrow as he leans in, filling her glass near to the brim and adding some extra to his own. If Joel isn't squeamish, she won't pull any narrative punches.

...All right.

[Evelyn continues. She explains the significance of the lost city, its relation to her early pursuit for a book that most of academia claimed did not exist. She describes the curses scratched into boxes and along the spines of ancient texts, the traps, the appearance of the Bedouin in black cloaks who warned of consequences and the unease of the camp. She tells him of the body in the sarcophagus, that she stole a book from an Egyptologist while he was sleeping, opened it, and woke up a creature so vile and impossible that she actually falters over the words to describe him.]

It was- it was this horrible thing, walking and rotting at the same time, and I remember seeing Mr. Burns - one of the Americans - on the ground, his-

[She takes another heavy sip of her drink, gesturing to her face.]

His eyes were gone. And his tongue. It took them, was using them.
nascensibility: turns out it's an STD rash (wanted to know how you got smoky eyes)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-08-21 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn nods, entirely sincere. It feels oddly freeing to talk about the more macabre aspects of her world - of what happened to her - even if the descriptions evoke the monstrosity that ultimately led to her own demise.]

Plucked out his eyes to see, his tongue to speak. And he mistook me for another, a woman from his own time- [She puts the drama on hold to briefly explain, leaning in more conversationally:] As it turned out he had been killed and cursed for trying to bring his lover back from the dead three-thousand years ago, and he thought I would be a suitable vessel for her second resurrection, which - I should note - was not the ideal situation for anyone, myself in particular.

[Evelyn does address her role in this with a certain laissez-faire quality that suggests this sort of thing is business-as-usual, or that she has become so desensitised to her flirtation with being a human sacrifice that it simply doesn't bother her anymore.

She's died enough.

Through his own revival he stole life from those who opened a sacred chest, and over the course of a few days he had divested the Americans properly regenerate his own body, and in the process struck the city with the Biblical plagues of Moses and Rameses.

If he was allowed to achieve the extent of his immortal goals after his body regenerated, he would be...unstoppable.
nascensibility: so unappreciated in my time (S I G H)

[personal profile] nascensibility 2017-09-18 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[Evelyn shrugs a little, a gentle rise and fall of her shoulders at the expletive. If there are any gods out there, she’s assuming they have a wicked sense of humour and one that delights in the torment of others.]

I found a text that, when spoken, would make him mortal.

[Up until that point, Imhotep would have been impossible to do anything to no matter what they tried.]

After that it was a matter of strategic stabbing.