THE WATER-BEARER
it's like a whisper in the wind, a rumored place that people hear murmurs about only from a far far off source. so few people have heard these rumors though, and even fewer have ever seen or been there.
pandora's lounge to the common eye is nothing but an old run down bookstore, threadbare and dusty. through the window the owner sits at a desk, gathering old books before putting them on shelves and talking idly with the people who enter. when the right person enters it though, pandora's lounge is an entirely new experience.
lights dim upon immediate entry, pandora's lounge is quiet, a murmur of voices among the patrons scattered through the room. the walls and ceiling is grey, dull to keep other areas of the room able to pop. the shelves, sleek black and lining walls, are decorated with gold trinkets and old items like broken vases and fossils of creatures unknown to those who do not remember. there are art pieces from artists lost in history and the music playing which is ever faint is piano and harp, a song unknown to many though a few patrons can be seen swinging their foot back and forth with its tune. it is no bar though, the tables set up across the entire floor of the establishment, dark oaken pieces with deep red cushions on them all with delicate carved designs in them each. the tables match, each one detailed as the chairs. through the center of the room though are a few tabled topped with red velvet, a deck of cards or other game placed in the middle. near the back right wall is a small group playing what appears to be poker, though the rules seem to be catered to their needs.
however the last part of the lounge that draws attention is the bar to the far back wall upon entry, the counter top is the same sleek black surface as the shelves on the wall and the shelves behind it match as well. there seems to be countless alcohols spread across the surfaces, the lower levels stocked with empty glasses and flutes for the different drinks the bartender seemed to create. upon closer look though many of the liquids up top are old, others have names other bars in the city have never had. the drinks being ordered aren't common names either, patrons calling out for another ' poseidon ' or ' hera ' though there are others such as ' rah ' or ' mercury ' as well as ' thor ' and ' amaterasu '. the bartender, a thinner built man with blond dreads pulled back off his shoulders, knows each and every drink by name, quickly pouring what is needed and dropping it off at the patron who ordered it. very little is spoken between him and the patrons, though he stays courteous and quiet.
the only time a reaction is given from the bartender is when a patron approaches the counter, a low whisper between them and the bartender as they order.
i'll have what you're having. brows raise on him before settling down, a drink poured for the patron before one last lingering glance is given from ganymede, zeus' old flame and water bearer in olympus, and he returns to his work.
the rest, is history.
Sweetheart Jollin
