crowded streets are cleared away, one by one

[circlejerked]

Who: Anders (circlejerked) and Barry Allen (accelerate).
Where: Tea room to start. (Pity party at the bar TBD.)
When: Aug. 9th.
Rating: PG for now?
Summary: Thanks to the depowering, a mage loses his magic and a speedster loses his speed. Being normal sucks, man. It just sucks.
The Story:



Oh, come on. Why aren't you working?

_{[For a hot second, Anders had been overjoyed when the brainwashing of the last few days' had broken. A sure sign the event's power was starting to wan, he'd thought. The words "thank the Maker, it's over!" might have been used. Wrong. He should've known the worst was yet to come.]}

Work. Come on, work. Pretty please? I know you want to work, so just do it. Please? For me?

<sub>[Who is Anders begging with such heartfelt wheedling? It's more of a what. Sitting in front of him on one of the tea room's tables is a glass of water. More specifically, he's trying to coax his mana, which he's been trying to do for the past hour.

Freeze the water. It's a simple manipulation of the elements, a trick any child with magical aptitude could do. Freeze the water. Face scrunched in concentration, Anders leans in, close enough to see his distorted reflection in the glass.

He taps it with a finger. The water sloshes, mocking him.]</sub>

Augh!

_{[Throwing himself back in his chair, he puts his arm over his eyes with a groan of absolute frustration. The empty, unresponsive core of mana somewhere deep in his being hadn't scared him... for maybe the first fifteen minutes. Now it's starting to. Now he's starting to wonder if he's going to be stuck with this hollowed out feeling forever.]}

Comments

[circlejerked]

I'll be sure to make a public network announcement. And I'll end it with J-S-Y-K. You know, in honor of our network friendship and everything.

_{[Anders closes the last few feet to the front door, but when Barry doesn't immediately head inside, he pauses.]}

'Huh' what? 'Huh' the karaoke machine isn't playing your song, or 'huh' we're witnessing a murder take place and should tip-toe away while we have the chance?

[accelerate]

[ a part of him feels like drawing this out with a hum and a ha, but barry has a feeling anders will simply push himself forward to see what he's seeing. he lifts a hand in a gesture to shush anders and his rambling for a moment, before he pulls away from peering inside of the bar's doorway. ]

[ with a shrug of his shoulders, ] There's really no one in there.

[ for all the dramatics, this feels anticlimactic. ] And there's a few bowls of peanuts at the empty bar stools.

[ the most wanted seat in every bar: the ones at the bar. ]

[circlejerked]

_{[... Barry's trying, he really is. Anders will keep reminding himself of that as he digs deep for the willpower not to point out how much work Barry's stand-up comedy act needs.]}

It's your lucky day, the peanut supply is still going strong. See? What did I tell you about coming to the bar? Your problems magically go away.

_{[Now can they actually go inside or is Barry waiting for a hand-delivered invitation? Anders shoos him in with a hand. Move it along, Allen, some of us need a stiff drink to get us through the hour.]}

What's your poison? It's a day to treat yourself.

[accelerate]

[ even though barry knows his speed is no longer an issue that'll keep him from truly enjoying a few hours at the bar, it's become so intricately woven within him that he hesitates. for a moment, he forgets, and then that forgetfulness is bursts when he remembers he can't so much as speed over in an effort to race anders. ]

[ after that, he doesn't require too much coaxing to move forward. with long strides, he takes himself to the bar. ] Something strong. [ much stronger than the speed force, which barry hasn't been able to find over the last two years. ] I kind of want to forget my non-problem's been magically taken away.

[ sitting on a stool, he slouches just a little, folding his legs up to sit on the little mock footrest. leaning far over, he drags a bowl of peanuts toward him, and starts eating them. mouth full: ] These are really good. Salty.

[circlejerked]

Well, you're in the right place. Amnesia in a bottle, coming up.

<sub>[Anders knows better than to expect a well-stocked cabinet full of Ferelden's finest; as far as types of alcohol in the multiverse go, Ferelden liquor doesn't rank very highly in a place with only a handful of people who actually know where Ferelden is.

That won't stop a pair of enterprising young gentlemen. At least, it's not going to stop Anders, who promptly invites himself behind the bar to look for something fitting for the occasion. Spotting a bottle of rum with the words "250th anniversary" emblazoned on the label, he snatches it up.

Sure, why not. The fancier, the better, right?]</sub>

This looks like it'll wash those peanuts down nicely.

_{[He plunks the bottle down on the bar along with two glasses. Now it's a real pity party.]}

[accelerate]

[ barry picks at the peanuts while anders goes to work. he could easily whip up one hundred drinks in a few seconds — ]

[ if he had his speed. ]

[ he remains on his stool and eats, not quite as quickly as he would if he was himself — or his new self. does it count if he was human before and had become a meta-human after? it's all making his head spin and his heart drop, and so he looks up to focus on anders instead. ]

[ with his mouth full, as barry will never break this habit now that it's come back to him, ] 250th anniversary? For what?

[circlejerked]

Being old and well-aged, I hope? _{[Humming a note, Anders swivels the bottle around to read from it.]} Saint James Cuvée. Hm, sounds good to me. Anything to do with saints can't be too bad--it's the devout types with their ritual wines that will put you on your arse.

_{[Not needing (or wanting, truth be told) much embellishment, Anders adds some ice to his glass. It balances the cosmic scales and makes up for the ice he was unable to form in his water glass.]}

How do you take yours? I'd say it's a "drink straight from the bottle" kind of day, but it's harder to live up to the tenants of the Bartholomew Allen school of drinking with your pinky up when it's a bottle.

[accelerate]

[ anders will need to excuse barry's ignorance when it comes to wine. he's a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to the appreciation of it, and when he would've had his wine era, he'd been in a coma instead. now, he can barely enjoy alcohol without being brought down by the fact he can't feel the warm buzz of it for more than a second. ]

Uh. [ he's sightly distracted, and not in the characteristic way he often goes off on tangents before returning to the topic at hand. how does he take his alcohol? barry honestly doesn't think he's ever enjoyed it int he way anders is proposing. ] The Anders way. I don't think I've had anything older than a few months. Ever.

[circlejerked]

_{[Better off asking an Orlesian about wines, Barry. In backwater Ferelden, it's hard liquor and cheap beers all the way.]}

I saved a merchant from some highwaymen once. He thanked me by sharing some of the beer he and his colleagues were well-known in the area for. Aged in barrels with vanilla and cherry bark, he said. _{[Anders makes a nostalgic mmm sound at the memory.]} Now that was good stuff.

_{[The Anders way it is. He plunks some ice into the second glass, then follows suit in plunking himself down in the seat next to Barry. He pours for both, sliding the other glass toward the other man.]}

No time like the present to try something new. Here's to waking up our normal selves tomorrow.

_[Maybe.]

[accelerate]

[ barry wouldn't know — all he's ever drunk is the stuff joe has, and that's usually corona and other nondescript beers that sort of taste the same. this fine-aged stuff anders is speaking of — he's never had the luxury of trying it. it's a little out of his realm of attainable. ]

[ he looks down at the glass as though he's never seen liquid sit inside of one before. it's almost as though he expects it to leap out and grab him — or to not look anything like the alcohol he's seen in coloured bottles or glasses he's had alcohol poured into before he couldn't quite enjoy it. ]

[ picking it up, he doesn't toss it back immediately. instead, he offers it to anders to toast. ]

To the Anders Way.

[circlejerked]

_{[Interesting choice of toast, but hey, he's not complaining. He clinks his glass against Barry's.]}

All right, I'll drink to that.

<sub>[The rum is a cool liquid burn all the way down his throat as he sips it, settling warmly in his empty stomach. He hadn't had much of an appetite when he'd found himself thrashing awake in his bed back in the mansion--probably not the best idea to be filling up an empty belly with booze.

Desperate times.

It doesn't quite replace the burn of mana he's used to feeling, but it'll do for now.]</sub>

[accelerate]

[ for the first time in two years, when barry drinks that alcohol, his throat burns and he reacts. he coughs, and it's one that sort of lingers in his throat for a little bit, burning itself in the one spot. he's not used to this type of burn — never has been, honestly — and now that he doesn't have that fast metabolism and reaction time buzzing inside of him, he's a little vulnerable to everything that had been there when he was human. ]

[ placing that glass down on the table, barry coughs a little more, feeling it shift and the burn subside slowly. ] Oh my god. That burns. I don't think I'm strong enough for the Anders Way.

[circlejerked]

You don't drink much, do you?

_{[Just a hunch. Anders smiles at Barry's grimacing with the glass halfway to his mouth.]}

When it burns, that's how you know it's working.

[accelerate]

[ barry coughs unattractively again. ] For real? [ speaking only makes him want to cough again, and he does his best to ignore the sensation. (he fails.) lifting his closed fist to his mouth, he coughs, trying to get the burn from his throat. he doesn't remember this burning sensation so vividly. when he'd been seventeen, he knows he'd tried some strong liquor from joe's cabinet in secret, and had lived to cough the tale to him. ]

[ maybe barry allen was made for high risk situations like crime-fighting and taking on metas. perhaps drinking alcohol isn't a part of his skill set. ] I feel like my throat's on fire. Like, an eternal fire.

[circlejerked]

_{[His eyebrows rise as if to say well, duh, silly! Hope you're not expecting Anders to give a real answer. He'll definitely play this up as far as he can (until Barry's just too drunk to notice or care).]}

It's common knowledge! The worse it feels going down, the better you feel later. Like medicine, only more fun and potentially embarrassing.

_{[A glass of special adult juice a day keeps the despair away? Something like that.]}

Maybe we should have watered yours down.

[accelerate]

[ his voice is still raspy, the aftermath of having his throat half burned out. ] Maybe.

[ he coughs some more before it turns into the sound one makes when clearing their throat. his hand moves to settle beneath his chin, press against his neck, before he moves it away. the eventual throat clearing stops, and barry eats a peanut like he hadn't almost choked. ]

It's been a while since I've had anything this strong. [ or ever, really, but barry's allowed a little white lie amongst his big ones, isn't he? ] Usually it doesn't really affect me.

[circlejerked]

<sub>[Is it rubbing it in if he takes another sip while he watches? The life of an apostate--or a Fereldan, for that matter--isn't exactly rich in hobbies to choose from; recreational drinking isn't so much a question as a given when you're tucked in for the night and have nothing better to do. His gullet is used to it.

And once you've tried dwarven booze--damn. Everything else is fruit juice compared to some of their gut-burning home brews.]</sub>

Why's that? Mom and dad wouldn't let you near the liquor cabinet?

_{[Because let's face it, Barry, you don't seem like the most experienced drinker in the world.]}

[accelerate]

[ barry doesn't bristle, but his entire aura seems to deflate. he doesn't look at anders, picking up his glass to hold it in his hand before he tips it back. this is what it should look like to drown your sorrows, except barry's never had the chance to do so since waking from his coma. he's never actually tried to cope with liquor before. ]

You could say that.

[ god, it still burns a little, but he thinks he's getting used to it — or maybe the focus on mom and dad has him distracted by the way it coats itself thickly along his throat and wants to literally set it on fire. ]

Usually I just run until I can't. It's free; alcohol usually isn't.