Manannan mac Lir: God of storms, sea & Navigation (stormyblueeyes) wrote in deities_dot_com, @ 2013-02-06 19:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~bast, ~manannan |
When The Boat Comes In... [Open to Bast]
That jukebox had to be playing the worst, poorest excuse for music he had ever heard. The shifting neon colors from the machine's attempt to match the beat were an eyesore, but not completely intolerable. No, it was definitely the music. Manannan was a god of the sea, of sailor shanties and organic, rousing melodies that came from the soul. This was some sort of synthetic pop tune that he had heard more than enough of. It was almost as synthetic as the liquor this bar in Seattle was attempting to ply him with. If he did not have the copious, nigh-inexhaustible patience that he did, Manannan would have left by now.
However, the bartender did have a bottle of gin that Mac was about two minutes away from wheedling out of the crotchety old man. If only he knew that a man who looked twenty years his junior, sitting at the end of the bar, was actually old enough to remember the days before gin. The notion that there had been a time before gin actually made Mac's heart sink slightly. He was so old. Too old. The world had changed so much while he'd spent time in the Otherworld, wasting away in lethargy. Not that he felt an urge to change. He was more than comfortable with his life in the Fae land, but he disliked the politics. No, he abhorred the politics. Whether it was younger gods bickering among themselves, or, so help him, the Norse or the Greeks coming to call with some ridiculous incident blown out of proportion...
Manannan was too old for this sort of thing. He was more than elated that he had left that behind for at least... what, ten years now? Mac paused as he rose his glass to his dry lips, slightly chafed by sea winds for centuries. A decade had passed since he had seen his islands. His children... Manannan drowned the tinge of loneliness with the last of his drink, then held the glass out, staring at it in the low light. "This glass could definitely use more gin." Mac called over to the bartender, his voice all gravel, as if he'd guzzled salt water. "Preferably that bottle right there..." He winked and pointed to the bottle under the bar.
About a minute later with an easy smile, Mac was now sporting a gin and tonic using that fragrant older bottle. As he took a long gulp, then reached up to loosen his blue tie, he felt his muscles relax.
It was the simple joys he was craving this evening.