Kiwi Crocus (cranky__crocus) wrote,
Kiwi Crocus

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I didn't manage to find a pub, but I stumbled upon a setting that I don't mind over-much. Let me set the scene and see what you think.

It has grown dark, the day, and slipped into its evening cloak of speckled stars and amorphous clouds gliding to kiss the moon. Somehow the common path is scattered with coloured leaves, yet the trees must have trod off a ways, for only the tips may be spotted over the houses and shops. Hogsmeade and its mysteries.

A sign above sways in the autumnal wind--creaaaaak, clack, squeeeeeak--and the same wind catches at the cloaks and pelts of those beneath, convincing them to settle somewhere inside or gain another layer. The wind lets up for a moment and the sign stills enough to gaze upon with ease:

Kiwi Keep - Pub of Pleasantries, it reads, though it appears there is a plurality that has been consumed by time and the seasons; the hint of an apostrophe and the tail of an 's' are just visible. The coat of arms contains a frisky unicorn cantering through the oaks of an old wood, light throwing a glory spectre of the beast into the rainbow-tinted clouds above the forest. Did the unicorn just wink...?

The wind strikes up again as a reminder that the wisest decision is to make one. The faerie lights--or dancing light-faeries, as they seem to be--are inviting enough, at least, to merit a momentary visit.

Inside, there is a warm current of air to ease the muscles of a visitor's face, encouraging expressions of mirth or madness, whichever comes first (and whichever the definition of 'mad', one might gather from the surroundings). Candles stuck in bottles float over the tables and bar; streams of smoke are reflected by mirrors dotting the walls between paintings--incense, judging by the scent. Music dances from a box in the far corner, with occasional music notes popping like bubbles throughout the room. One pops a B-flat against a pile of books; a book in a pile on an adjacent table chuckles, releasing a tiny cough of dust.

The server behind the bar is short and sturdy, with curling brown locks half-tied at ear level and a face created for laughter. She keeps a book in one hand and a quill in the other, angled over a parchment; she drops it to draw a wand from her bosom and tap a patron's glass, which floats to refill itself at one of the taps.

She glances up to her newest visitor and smiles. "Welcome to Kiwi's Keep! Would you like a drink, some company or a whinge?"

Decisions, decisions.

(Heh heh, I just did that for fun. Anyway! I don't mean to steal lash_larue's thunder; I checked her chat [always here] and didn't find anyone there.

I'm not sure how long I'll be on, but probably a fair while with cleaning, reading, note-taking, fic-reading and tv-watching to do. (: I've got the candles out, the faerie lights flashing, the incense burning and the music playing; I'm feeling a bit better with all of that. I just needed the reminder that I keep myself in good company and that I'm one of my own best friends.

That said, I'd love to hang out with myself and those from my flist who'd enjoy it, too! After all, wherever I go, there I am... (; )

(...P.S: I don't know if I really have a face created for laughter, but one must have some leniency for creative endeavours, hmm?)
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