Encounterlogs
Auris Odd Encounter Sr Novel 250206
At the heart of the story, Auri finds herself in a dimly lit, timeworn bar of The Alley, a place heavy with the scents of day's past and lined with remnants of forgotten conversations. The air, unnaturally chill and fraught with a sense of foreboding, seems to signal an odd shift in the demeanor of the bar's regulars. Their gazes, cold and lingering, bore into Auri with an intensity that belies the usual indifference of such establishments. The mundane reality of the bar twists into a backdrop for a surreal encounter as a drunk patron confronts Auri, claiming she occupies his seat. The confrontation, initially mundane, quickly escalates as the bar seems to turn against her, the collective mood souring into hostile tension.
In an attempt to defuse the situation, Auri employs diplomacy and humor, offering the seat back to the man. However, the atmosphere becomes increasingly charged, a visible reflection of Auri's cursed predicament where the world itself seems to conspire against her. The bartender and patrons, now united in their disdain, suggest Auri leave - a suggestion rapidly becoming a demand. Faced with an entire bar of hostile faces, Auri resorts to a desperate plea, fabricating a story of being lost, her voice quivering with fear and eyes welling with tears. It's a moment of vulnerability that paints a stark contrast to the harshness surrounding her. Ultimately, with the curse lifting as suddenly as it descended, Auri finds herself isolated, seeking solace in the anonymity of the night and the quiet reflection of her own resilience. The story concludes with her emergence from despair, a poignant testament to her strength amidst a world momentarily turned against her.
(Auri's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Wed Feb 5 2025]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is night, about 25F(-3C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target has been cursed with persecution, it is up to them to survive a world suddenly turned hostile until their allies can come and help get them to safety or deal with the curse.
)
Auri lingers at the bar, sneaking a spot onto one of the stools as the bartender's attention turns to a rather demanding customer. Folding her feet under her seat, she peers at the menu behind the bar pensively.
Auri stands at the gorgeous wood of the bar of The Alley, a place where the air always hangs heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey, burnt citrus peels, and the faint earthy smell of old beer. The wooden beams overhead groan under the weight of time and weather, their warped edges clawing at the dim light that flickers in patches across the ceiling. There's something about today, though, a coldness that extends beyond the physical, lingering chill of winter's relentless grip. Shadows stretch unnaturally long against the brick walls, pooling in the corners where the floorboards creak in restless unease. someone
The bar itself looms, its polished surface slick and dark as if stained too deeply to ever truly be clean. Glasses sit too still on their shelves, the dim bulbs overhead casting a strange, oil-slick sheen across the dusty bottles that line the back wall. The air hums with conversation and music, but behind it is something uglier. Something more focused, something that suddenly thrums beneath the surface like an off-kilter heartbeat.
The regulars, those who have long since carved themselves into the bones of the place, seem changed around Auri. Their laughter is too sharp, their voices a half-step too slow, as if the words they speak have been dragged up from somewhere cold and distant. Eyes glint in the dimness, pupils swallowing color, gazes lingering just a breath longer than they should on Auri. And the gazes do not turn away when she mees them. The bartender moves with a careful precision, the kind born not of habit but of necessity, their fingers tracing the worn grooves of the counter as if seeking something familiar, something safe.
The walls press closer, the ceiling feeling suddenly lower. The air carries a weight now, a presence threading through the cracks in the brick, slipping between the spaces in conversation, curling into the silence where laughter should be.
And suddenly there's a breath and a man - port bellied and red-eyed. He's been drinking for awhile, as he thumps up behind Auri, SLAMMING a palm against the bar in front of her. "Yer in my seat."
Conversations gradually taper, and stop.
Auri stands at the gorgeous wood of the bar of The Alley, a place where the air always hangs heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey, burnt citrus peels, and the faint earthy smell of old beer. The wooden beams overhead groan under the weight of time and weather, their warped edges clawing at the dim light that flickers in patches across the ceiling. There's something about today, though, a coldness that extends beyond the physical, lingering chill of winter's relentless grip. Shadows stretch unnaturally long against the brick walls, pooling in the corners where the floorboards creak in restless unease.
The bar itself looms, its polished surface slick and dark as if stained too deeply to ever truly be clean. Glasses sit too still on their shelves, the dim bulbs overhead casting a strange, oil-slick sheen across the dusty bottles that line the back wall. The air hums with conversation and music, but behind it is something uglier. Something more focused, something that suddenly thrums beneath the surface like an off-kilter heartbeat.
The regulars, those who have long since carved themselves into the bones of the place, seem changed around Auri. Their laughter is too sharp, their voices a half-step too slow, as if the words they speak have been dragged up from somewhere cold and distant. Eyes glint in the dimness, pupils swallowing color, gazes lingering just a breath longer than they should on Auri. And the gazes do not turn away when she mees them. The bartender moves with a careful precision, the kind born not of habit but of necessity, their fingers tracing the worn grooves of the counter as if seeking something familiar, something safe.
The walls press closer, the ceiling feeling suddenly lower. The air carries a weight now, a presence threading through the cracks in the brick, slipping between the spaces in conversation, curling into the silence where laughter should be.
And suddenly there's a breath and a man - port bellied and red-eyed. He's been drinking for awhile, as he thumps up behind Auri, SLAMMING a palm against the bar in front of her. "Yer in my seat."
Conversations gradually taper, and stop.
Auri affects a mask of cheerfulness, a tool to either calm or infuriate, blue eyes vibrant and posture upright but unchallenging as she spins to face the man "Is a very good seat, you should be proud to own such a thing! And I am very happy you have loaned it to me." she chirps in response. "But, I think you are looking more tired than I, and I am getting antsy. So thank you, but you can have it back." she says, gracefully sliding off it to offer it "back" to the man.
"You'd better. In fact, I think it'd be better if you left the bar," Said the surly, heavyset blue-collar worker, his shirt already stained and his expression contorted into something ugly against Auri. "Don't know what the fuck someone like you is doing in the bar-" He's raising his hand. Then the bartender sits his hand out, grabbing the wrist of someone who is about to do something ill-advised, and illegal.
But there's no bastion of safety there, the blue-eyed drinkmeister giving her a faint, but hard look, a frown crossing his features. There's an ugly murmur rising through the crowd and something simmers beneath the surface. "I think you'd better go," says the man. Even the distant click and clack of pool is starting to become quieter as people are slowly turning to watch.
Her gaze shifts from the man, and confidence starts to fade from Auri's demeanor. One angry man, she has great experience with, but an entire crowd. Stories from her childhood meander their way into the edge of her conciousness, vague memories of when she was little and a horse or cow went missing from the local village. It was always time to leave then too. Gaze flits towards the path to the exit. Her father's advice faint, long discarded since she came to the new world where such things were supposed to be of the past. Still; she may not remember his ways, but she has her own. "I... I am lost, thought maybe someone could help me find bus station." she says in her softest, most pitiable voice. She wills her eyes to water a bit, summoning images of her lost pet newt from childhood that mother had flushed down the toilet after it was discovered. Maybe it's that, or maybe it's real fear, but something did the trick and tears are running down the girls cheeks, leaving sad rivulets of cheap makeup about her eyes. "Am sorry. You are very kind man to offer such advice. Can see why people are so happy for you to speak for them." Again, she checks the exit. How many hostile faces on the way? She counts...
One face, two face, three face, four face, five face, six face... twenty, twenty-two... It might be easier for Auri to count up the number of non-hostile people. Because that number is zero, ranging from mild annoyance and contempt to open outrage at Auri's existence, shining in the glassy reflection of drinks or the jukebox nearby as the fatman takes her seat with heavy, satisfied grunt, as the bartender stares at Auri. There's no sympathy there. Not even the slightest flinch of it.
"Door's behind you. Get out." Says the voice, icy and cold and impatient - clearly, everyone wants to get back to enjoying and drinking.
Without Auri.
Into the dark, it's more the same, with cloying malice. People cross the street or shove Auri on the way past... and then, in thirty minutes, it's gone. The ominous feeling seems to lift and relax, and life goes back to normal. Should she return to the Alley? Nobody pretends anything out of the ordinary happens...
Auri is panting heavily, not from exertion, but bewilderment. Nothing like this has ever happened to her, not to this extent. Tears, genuine this time, stream down her face as she seeks someplace bereft of others; Alleys offer no respite, so a bush it is. She curls up hugging her knees and burying her face in her legs. Silent sobs shake her body, their sounds suppressed before eventually she lifts her head, wiping her eyes which smears her makeup further. Then she stands up, brushes herself off and emerges to a world more familiar, one where she is just another face in the crowd once more. Well, perhaps less so given the state of her visage.
In an attempt to defuse the situation, Auri employs diplomacy and humor, offering the seat back to the man. However, the atmosphere becomes increasingly charged, a visible reflection of Auri's cursed predicament where the world itself seems to conspire against her. The bartender and patrons, now united in their disdain, suggest Auri leave - a suggestion rapidly becoming a demand. Faced with an entire bar of hostile faces, Auri resorts to a desperate plea, fabricating a story of being lost, her voice quivering with fear and eyes welling with tears. It's a moment of vulnerability that paints a stark contrast to the harshness surrounding her. Ultimately, with the curse lifting as suddenly as it descended, Auri finds herself isolated, seeking solace in the anonymity of the night and the quiet reflection of her own resilience. The story concludes with her emergence from despair, a poignant testament to her strength amidst a world momentarily turned against her.
(Auri's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Wed Feb 5 2025]
At the Bar-and-Stage at The Alley
Carpeting stretches across the laminate flooring here, stained by footprints
and years of use, creating areas for lounge seating. Set up in front of a tiny
stage and a corner bar, here visitors are invited to grab a drink together, to
socialize, and perhaps even take the stage where a karaoke machine is prepared
for all those brave enough. The bar itself has seen better days, its counter a
gouged and scratched remnants of its former self, and almost all of the tables
and chairs in the room are similarly in need of either repair or replacements.
The corner bar displays a select assortment of draft beers and liquor - though
a good look behind the bar might cast the legitimacy of the liquor licenses in
doubt. Though dingy, the stools set up around this corner of the establishment
seem to be newer than any other furniture, featuring genuine ruddy-red leather
bar stools, and are actually pretty comfortable to sit on for lengthy periods.
It is night, about 25F(-3C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target has been cursed with persecution, it is up to them to survive a world suddenly turned hostile until their allies can come and help get them to safety or deal with the curse.
)
Auri lingers at the bar, sneaking a spot onto one of the stools as the bartender's attention turns to a rather demanding customer. Folding her feet under her seat, she peers at the menu behind the bar pensively.
Auri stands at the gorgeous wood of the bar of The Alley, a place where the air always hangs heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey, burnt citrus peels, and the faint earthy smell of old beer. The wooden beams overhead groan under the weight of time and weather, their warped edges clawing at the dim light that flickers in patches across the ceiling. There's something about today, though, a coldness that extends beyond the physical, lingering chill of winter's relentless grip. Shadows stretch unnaturally long against the brick walls, pooling in the corners where the floorboards creak in restless unease. someone
The bar itself looms, its polished surface slick and dark as if stained too deeply to ever truly be clean. Glasses sit too still on their shelves, the dim bulbs overhead casting a strange, oil-slick sheen across the dusty bottles that line the back wall. The air hums with conversation and music, but behind it is something uglier. Something more focused, something that suddenly thrums beneath the surface like an off-kilter heartbeat.
The regulars, those who have long since carved themselves into the bones of the place, seem changed around Auri. Their laughter is too sharp, their voices a half-step too slow, as if the words they speak have been dragged up from somewhere cold and distant. Eyes glint in the dimness, pupils swallowing color, gazes lingering just a breath longer than they should on Auri. And the gazes do not turn away when she mees them. The bartender moves with a careful precision, the kind born not of habit but of necessity, their fingers tracing the worn grooves of the counter as if seeking something familiar, something safe.
The walls press closer, the ceiling feeling suddenly lower. The air carries a weight now, a presence threading through the cracks in the brick, slipping between the spaces in conversation, curling into the silence where laughter should be.
And suddenly there's a breath and a man - port bellied and red-eyed. He's been drinking for awhile, as he thumps up behind Auri, SLAMMING a palm against the bar in front of her. "Yer in my seat."
Conversations gradually taper, and stop.
Auri stands at the gorgeous wood of the bar of The Alley, a place where the air always hangs heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey, burnt citrus peels, and the faint earthy smell of old beer. The wooden beams overhead groan under the weight of time and weather, their warped edges clawing at the dim light that flickers in patches across the ceiling. There's something about today, though, a coldness that extends beyond the physical, lingering chill of winter's relentless grip. Shadows stretch unnaturally long against the brick walls, pooling in the corners where the floorboards creak in restless unease.
The bar itself looms, its polished surface slick and dark as if stained too deeply to ever truly be clean. Glasses sit too still on their shelves, the dim bulbs overhead casting a strange, oil-slick sheen across the dusty bottles that line the back wall. The air hums with conversation and music, but behind it is something uglier. Something more focused, something that suddenly thrums beneath the surface like an off-kilter heartbeat.
The regulars, those who have long since carved themselves into the bones of the place, seem changed around Auri. Their laughter is too sharp, their voices a half-step too slow, as if the words they speak have been dragged up from somewhere cold and distant. Eyes glint in the dimness, pupils swallowing color, gazes lingering just a breath longer than they should on Auri. And the gazes do not turn away when she mees them. The bartender moves with a careful precision, the kind born not of habit but of necessity, their fingers tracing the worn grooves of the counter as if seeking something familiar, something safe.
The walls press closer, the ceiling feeling suddenly lower. The air carries a weight now, a presence threading through the cracks in the brick, slipping between the spaces in conversation, curling into the silence where laughter should be.
And suddenly there's a breath and a man - port bellied and red-eyed. He's been drinking for awhile, as he thumps up behind Auri, SLAMMING a palm against the bar in front of her. "Yer in my seat."
Conversations gradually taper, and stop.
Auri affects a mask of cheerfulness, a tool to either calm or infuriate, blue eyes vibrant and posture upright but unchallenging as she spins to face the man "Is a very good seat, you should be proud to own such a thing! And I am very happy you have loaned it to me." she chirps in response. "But, I think you are looking more tired than I, and I am getting antsy. So thank you, but you can have it back." she says, gracefully sliding off it to offer it "back" to the man.
"You'd better. In fact, I think it'd be better if you left the bar," Said the surly, heavyset blue-collar worker, his shirt already stained and his expression contorted into something ugly against Auri. "Don't know what the fuck someone like you is doing in the bar-" He's raising his hand. Then the bartender sits his hand out, grabbing the wrist of someone who is about to do something ill-advised, and illegal.
But there's no bastion of safety there, the blue-eyed drinkmeister giving her a faint, but hard look, a frown crossing his features. There's an ugly murmur rising through the crowd and something simmers beneath the surface. "I think you'd better go," says the man. Even the distant click and clack of pool is starting to become quieter as people are slowly turning to watch.
Her gaze shifts from the man, and confidence starts to fade from Auri's demeanor. One angry man, she has great experience with, but an entire crowd. Stories from her childhood meander their way into the edge of her conciousness, vague memories of when she was little and a horse or cow went missing from the local village. It was always time to leave then too. Gaze flits towards the path to the exit. Her father's advice faint, long discarded since she came to the new world where such things were supposed to be of the past. Still; she may not remember his ways, but she has her own. "I... I am lost, thought maybe someone could help me find bus station." she says in her softest, most pitiable voice. She wills her eyes to water a bit, summoning images of her lost pet newt from childhood that mother had flushed down the toilet after it was discovered. Maybe it's that, or maybe it's real fear, but something did the trick and tears are running down the girls cheeks, leaving sad rivulets of cheap makeup about her eyes. "Am sorry. You are very kind man to offer such advice. Can see why people are so happy for you to speak for them." Again, she checks the exit. How many hostile faces on the way? She counts...
One face, two face, three face, four face, five face, six face... twenty, twenty-two... It might be easier for Auri to count up the number of non-hostile people. Because that number is zero, ranging from mild annoyance and contempt to open outrage at Auri's existence, shining in the glassy reflection of drinks or the jukebox nearby as the fatman takes her seat with heavy, satisfied grunt, as the bartender stares at Auri. There's no sympathy there. Not even the slightest flinch of it.
"Door's behind you. Get out." Says the voice, icy and cold and impatient - clearly, everyone wants to get back to enjoying and drinking.
Without Auri.
Into the dark, it's more the same, with cloying malice. People cross the street or shove Auri on the way past... and then, in thirty minutes, it's gone. The ominous feeling seems to lift and relax, and life goes back to normal. Should she return to the Alley? Nobody pretends anything out of the ordinary happens...
Auri is panting heavily, not from exertion, but bewilderment. Nothing like this has ever happened to her, not to this extent. Tears, genuine this time, stream down her face as she seeks someplace bereft of others; Alleys offer no respite, so a bush it is. She curls up hugging her knees and burying her face in her legs. Silent sobs shake her body, their sounds suppressed before eventually she lifts her head, wiping her eyes which smears her makeup further. Then she stands up, brushes herself off and emerges to a world more familiar, one where she is just another face in the crowd once more. Well, perhaps less so given the state of her visage.