tales from elysia: dinner at nonna's

nonna’s was an old club tucked in an otherwise nondescript alley in the heart of the capital. one of those places you didn’t know about until you knew a guy who knew a guy. luckily for them, the suits were those guys; their reputation preceded them, and the underbelly of elysia rolled itself over for them.

the club was filled with the usual mix of characters: old men with too much money to spend, modded out tech junkies buzzing with digital tranquilizers, and dealers and distributors of all sorts of unscrupulous goods. if you wanted to find out which industry titans were colluding or which VPN to install to encrypt your inner monologue, nonna’s was the place to go. a hologram of a nameless jazz band flickered in the middle of the dimly lit room, as waitstaff meandered across the crowded floor, catering to the whims of their incessant guests.

the seer and the widowmaker felt their heads spinning after several strong cocktails, tempered by bellies full of pasta. while nonna’s was usually a business rendezvous or stakeout spot, tonight it was nothing more than a buzzing club and a delicious spot for a dinner out. and as the room around them blurred, the weight of the day’s toils were pushed down just a little deeper.