Board Thread:The Mech Bay Bar'n'Grill/@comment-24866242-20140514230527

Getting the Band Back Together
Post by katrylle » Tue Apr 15, 2014 10:30 pm

Getting the Band Back Together:

-Katrylle Strolling through the door of the MBBnG, she slowly looked around, sadden by the state of decay it had fallen into over the past few years. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had stepped into this place she had once called home. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had seen those she had called family.

Thick layers of dust covered every available surface marred only by small tracks of various critters that had taken over the Grill. A lot of the furniture was overturn or, in some cases, broken to splinters. Sighing heavily, she made her way behind the bar and looked over what remained of the dusty bottles. Smiling softly, she could almost hear the voices of the ghosts from her past.

The tap of the bar sink made a horrific scream then began banging as if those ghosts were trying desperately to escape their cells in her memory. At first, she was rewarded with a deep brown muck oozing from the faucet. Eventually, however, the water ran clear, though not hot. She made a mental note to figure out if the water heater still worked.

Hours later, the coffee pot had been found, cleaned and coffee made, some glasses and tankards were washed and several of the bottles dusted and sitting back on their shelves. Power had been restored though hot water would be nonexistent coming from any of the faucets until she could find someone to replace the heater. Those chairs and tables that weren’t kindling were again upright. Those in pieces fed the warm and inviting fire in the fireplace across the room. It wasn’t perfect; gods knew it would take more than a few hours to get this place back to its old glory.

It was odd, but she found herself nervous. What if they didn’t come? What if her messages never reached them? What if they didn’t feel the same as she did about getting the group back together? Perhaps she was being stupid about the entire thing. Perhaps it was a useless pipe dream.

Cussing herself, she strode over to the jukebox and kicked it. It squealed once, the lights flickered then held. Sighing heavily, she made her selections and sat back to wait. The difference between truth and fiction: Fiction has to make sense. - Mark Twain

katrylle - Site Admin 