The Multi-Dimensional OC Bar

"Bye.." Griff says just before she walks out without lifting his head.

"Well I have got to prepare my forge, I have a couple of orders waiting and I want to get them done." Storm said standing and paying Martini for the various drinks he'd had. "Nice talking with you Griff." he added before turning and leaving the bar.

The door inches open. Ician steps into the bar, surveying the room. He wilts a little when he finally takes in the sight of Griff, alone at his table, and the only obvious presence in the area.

He moves over to the counter. "Could I have a glass of water, please, Martini? Thanks."

When it comes, he summons the glass to him and seats himself in his own corner, quietly gazing around.

Griff keeps looking down at the table, then at his bottle, then down at table again, and once again at the bottle, as if he hadn't noticed Ician. On top of that, he looked completely hammered.

Ician glances briefly at Griff, noticing his apparent indisposition, and says nothing. He stares at the door contemplatively, as if waiting for somepony.

Griff finally finishes his drink and lifts his head only to look at the counter and hoovers another bottle of rum towards him without saying a word.

Ician's gaze never wavers, but his expression shifts from one of deep contemplation to slight pain. He absently sips from his glass, the beginnings of a disconsolate scowl developing on his face.

Griff starts drinking out of the new bottle, as absent-minded as before, not noticing Ician at all. He looks like he's gonna fall off his chair any moment now.

The motion catches Ician's eye. With a dejected sigh, his horn flashes briefly, establishing his telekinetic hold over Griff's chair. He holds it steady, ready to tip Griff back into place in case he falls off.

Storm pushes the door open and walks into the bar stumbling a little in exhaustion. "Shirley, you have something to cure a headache? I've got a real bad one going here."

"I think I have something. Hold on a second, I'll ask chef." She says before pushing open a door behind her and entering the kitchen.

She returns holding a glass of some green fluid. "This will cure it, just make sure you don't have any open wounds it could kill you." She said dropping it on the bar.

"Thanks Shirley." He says, holding the liquid up to the light. "Are you sure this is safe?" He asks worriedly.

"No, but it'll cure any aches and pains you have." She replies in a all too happy tone.

"On second thoughts I'll just have some tea." He says putting the liquid back down. Shirley pulls a teapot from behind the counter and pours a cup. Storm turns around with the cup held in his magic "So what's the problem with you two?" he asks puzzled by the quite and depressed atmosphere in the bar.

"Mm." Ician waves his hoof subconsciously, letting it fall to the table shortly after with a soft bang. His eyes, littered with crimson veins of blood, twitched ever so slightly. "... Nothing."

Storm walked up to the table, and pulled up a seat setting his cup down as he did. "I thought I looked rough after spending so long in the forge. You look like you haven't slept in days, and Griff looks too drunk to string a pair of words together. What's wrong?" He repeats his earlier question with a little more force.

Griff slightly lifts his head and mumbles something that sounds similar to "Hello, Storm and Ician" before letting his head fall onto table with a loud 'tunk'.

Ician shakes his head sadly and turns away. "I'm just... confused, is all. Mentally, emotionally..." He heaves a sigh. "What with that argument between Divine and The... the changeling. And then now I have to assemble a team of... mercenaries, essentially, to deal with the Eastern Sea incident."

He groans. "I guess I have a little too much on my mind."

"Looks like I was wrong he's coherent enough for a whole sentence." Storm says, genuinely surprised. "I'm not good at dealing with emotions so I can't give you any real advice but they say a load shared is a load halved, perhaps talking will help." he takes a sip of his tea, ready to listen.

"I... I don't know what to say." Ician grits his teeth. "For the first time in forever I'm actually thinking about reality. Most of the time, if it hurts, I just... switch off, you know? Just..." He raps his hoof on the table. "Just like that. But I can't seem to do it now and it's irritating the living Tartarus out of me." He cups his head in his hooves and sinks onto the tabletop.

"Try thinking about it rather than trying to stop. What is the cause of the problem and why is it affecting you? Maybe you'll see a solution." Storm says after a moments thought. "When I'm angry, which is a lot, I normally start up my forge and make something, a sword, a shield, a candlestick. It lets me vent my frustrations in a way that's beneficial, my house will never run out of candle sticks." he says attempting to lighten the mood slightly, he finishes his tea with a last gulp and sets the cup back down on the table.

Griff slowly steps up and slowly makes his way towards the table with storm, tripping along the way and faceplanting onto the wooden floor.

"Channelling emotions into productivity... now that's a clever idea." Ician chuckles hollowly and raises his head off the table. "But I know what my problem is. As much as I like to hide from the past, I can never really let it go. It comes back to plague me with pain."

He looks at Storm. "That changeling, who Divine was insisting was Theria? The worst part is that I can't decide whether I'd rather that be the truth or not. Because if it isn't... well, Theria's dead. But if it is... she's changed. So much. Either way..." He sighs. "The Theria I know is gone."

"Well then don't focus on her absence. I can't tell you what would be better but I can try to reduce your suffering. When you think of her think about the time you spent together, all your happy memories with her. Not how she left." He said feeling his ending was inadequate and hoping he'd put his message across well enough. "Like I said I don't normally do this and I'm not very good at it."

"No, you're not bad. It's just... my problem." Ician sighs again. "I am physically incapable of thinking of the happy times without thinking of the sad. It's my fault, really. Interrogation requires you to draw a lot of connections... and when I do something else the skill comes with me, whether I like it or not." He smiles a bittersweet smile. "I can't think about her without remembering... everything." He hangs his head. "And it hurts."

Griff attempts to get up again and continue his way to Ician and Storm but ends up tripping and falling down again. "...oooowww..." is everything that comes out of his mouth.

Ician looks over at him. "You okay?"

Griff crawls to the table and onto the free chair where he finally sits down. "I ... *hic* dunno..."

Storm looks over at the table that Griff came from, made obvious by the trail he'd left in his quest to reach the table he was at now. He saw three empty bottles of rum stood there. "I'm pretty sure that amount of alcohol would kill me." He says noting the size of the bottles. "I have a solution to getting drunk but I can only perform it on myself and it doesn't work after a certain amount of time." He says looking at Griff with a confused face. "Seriously how are you conscious?"