The first week I was at Milliways still blurs together for me; it likely always will. Stumbling into this strange place, meeting people from my world, finding out what I’d achieved and how I’d failed. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I knew a change was on the horizon. I didn’t know what it would be.
Then I met Door, and the world came back into sharp focus.
She gave me a drink that night, something from her world, a drink the Velvets liked to make. I remember how it smoked and glowed red within its glass – red as blood.
The drink was good. It tasted rich and strongly alcoholic with a bright flash of raspberry flavor masking the more potent ingredients. It popped on my tongue, light and thick at the same time, it seemed. There was an aftertaste, however, that I thought was bitter and almost unpleasant. It reminded me of swirling fog trapped in liquid form. Door laughed and told me it was wiser not to wonder what the actual ingredients were – as with most edibles of London Below, it was better, sometimes not to know exactly what one was consuming.
I mostly stuck with scotch after that.
I’d forgotten the Velvets’ drink until the night in the ritual room of the House of Arch. I stood there, facing Door as her blood bled into my palms, as my own was tested for worthiness. That’s when I tasted it again, that swirling, bitter tang. I knew then what it was.
It was the magic of London Below. It was the taste of home.
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Date: 2005-04-20 12:52 am (UTC)The first week I was at Milliways still blurs together for me; it likely always will. Stumbling into this strange place, meeting people from my world, finding out what I’d achieved and how I’d failed. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I knew a change was on the horizon. I didn’t know what it would be.
Then I met Door, and the world came back into sharp focus.
She gave me a drink that night, something from her world, a drink the Velvets liked to make. I remember how it smoked and glowed red within its glass – red as blood.
The drink was good. It tasted rich and strongly alcoholic with a bright flash of raspberry flavor masking the more potent ingredients. It popped on my tongue, light and thick at the same time, it seemed. There was an aftertaste, however, that I thought was bitter and almost unpleasant. It reminded me of swirling fog trapped in liquid form. Door laughed and told me it was wiser not to wonder what the actual ingredients were – as with most edibles of London Below, it was better, sometimes not to know exactly what one was consuming.
I mostly stuck with scotch after that.
I’d forgotten the Velvets’ drink until the night in the ritual room of the House of Arch. I stood there, facing Door as her blood bled into my palms, as my own was tested for worthiness. That’s when I tasted it again, that swirling, bitter tang. I knew then what it was.
It was the magic of London Below. It was the taste of home.