I'd like to see Dooku and Ducard meet - even for a brief while. Heh-heh, it would be... interesting. :D
I don't know if you'll have time, but my brain has helpfully spit out a drabble-beginning for you:
The café cum bar is dark, filled with the smoke of various noxious combustibles, and strange creatures are doing even stranger things to each other in the corner booths, but Ducard resolutely ignores them in favor of the drink sitting in front of him. With long strong fingers he rotates it slowly, admiring the emerald color and how it shifts from lighter to darker green as it swirls in the glass. He can't remember exactly how he got to this place, and that realization troubles him in some vague indefinable way. I was doing something, fighting? There was a train, and things were going wrong…
"You remind me very much of someone I once knew; an old student of mine.” The voice was deep, resonant, and very dark. An older man nearly his own height, dressed in strangely formal clothing with cloak and high boots, like some sort of elderly cavalier, stood at his elbow. His face held lines of an old sadness as he looked at Ducard. "He died a long time ago."
Ducard noticed this with only a slight turn of his head. "It's quite all right to be dead, I've done it myself more than once."
The man considered this statement soberly and offered him a slight bow. "I am called Dooku. May I join you?"
"Please do, it looks as if it's going to be a very long night." Ducard made space for Dooku at the bar and lifted a finger. The barkeep came over at once and gave Dooku a drink similar to the one Ducard had been contemplating. Ducard lifted his drink in a salute. "Here's to death and old students."
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Dooku and Ducard
Date: 2005-12-06 10:14 pm (UTC)I don't know if you'll have time, but my brain has helpfully spit out a drabble-beginning for you:
The café cum bar is dark, filled with the smoke of various noxious combustibles, and strange creatures are doing even stranger things to each other in the corner booths, but Ducard resolutely ignores them in favor of the drink sitting in front of him. With long strong fingers he rotates it slowly, admiring the emerald color and how it shifts from lighter to darker green as it swirls in the glass. He can't remember exactly how he got to this place, and that realization troubles him in some vague indefinable way. I was doing something, fighting? There was a train, and things were going wrong…
"You remind me very much of someone I once knew; an old student of mine.” The voice was deep, resonant, and very dark. An older man nearly his own height, dressed in strangely formal clothing with cloak and high boots, like some sort of elderly cavalier, stood at his elbow. His face held lines of an old sadness as he looked at Ducard. "He died a long time ago."
Ducard noticed this with only a slight turn of his head. "It's quite all right to be dead, I've done it myself more than once."
The man considered this statement soberly and offered him a slight bow. "I am called Dooku. May I join you?"
"Please do, it looks as if it's going to be a very long night." Ducard made space for Dooku at the bar and lifted a finger. The barkeep came over at once and gave Dooku a drink similar to the one Ducard had been contemplating. Ducard lifted his drink in a salute. "Here's to death and old students."