@kaeshae"I have no i-bloody-dea. I was told that it was exactly what it was called a Surprise. Supposedly every time you drink it it's different, and it's varies from person to person." Snarf takes the bottle and returns it underneath the bar.

Gwen stops him. "No, keep it out! That's the best I've had in ages!"

[Outside with @Sombrero ]

Paisley had managed to catch a doe, but a ravenous vampire was never sated with just one feasting. Her ability to handle warm liquor dwindled with time, impatient, scrounging for something more. So she waited, fingernail long and ready to pierce the neck of the next unsuspecting fellow who came from the Tavern doors. The ghoul hadn't wandered far, the 'round of her mouth stained red, hair disheveled and her attire out of sorts. When Ignacio escaped the bustling, noisy air of the most magical building.

She pressed onward, three long, gliding steps and she took his hand in her own, normal one. Batting lightly colored lashes along dangerously freckled cheeks. Her smile was wry, she inched herself closer until heartbeats touched... if she ever had one. Her hand slipped up along his neck, not quite charming him, her presence alone might do the trick. Her nail, elongated gave the gentlest nudge to break his flesh. She wasn't hungry enough to drain him, which very well may have been a mistake.... but soft lips met his neck, coaxing the sweet, savory red that she favored.



[Finally out of his room, soon to interact with @CandiBarr ]

The perfume, though hasty was complete. He brought it down the stairs with one more wipe of the glass against his apron. He arrived with the strong scent of flowers and something carmine. The lingering taste of white wine upon his lips and breath while he ventured towards the green-eyed woman he kindly sought. He planned to order another - the drink, of course, but he slipped by the bar, tall, focused through the haze of glass and glass again.

His lips curled into the softest smile when he met her, leaning against whatever surface felt comfortable. From a weathered hand protruded a sweet, elegant bottle, its neck much like a swan. It was corked in glass, a fine green ribbon an off-shade to her eyes was tied around it, a letter within the knot. It was simple enough. He cleared his throat and stood straight, moving to a table where he might sit.

In the letter, if opened it held a question: For your lights, miss Sophia. Would you prefer white or yellow bulbs?

Ignacio saw through the eyes of a party animal who had downed his drink a little too quickly. As such, he was perfectly alright with what was going on... Until he realized that he really did see blood in and around her mouth... It felt like a perfectly inconspicuous kiss on the neck, but there was the brief senstion of sharp points being inside of it, under the skin. Is this what those pheasants felt like? He uttered a profound "Eugh..." as his muscles tensed up.

@tigerchuffs

Willow walked into the tavern, her usual happy self glowing brightly. She had a thick jacket on as she always seemed to be cold as of late. She took a seat at the corner of the bar and poured herself a tall glass of lemonade. Though there wasn't much going on, she had a feeling that something might happen, something possibly quite exciting and she was looking forward to it.

Current Attire
Click here

Location
Tavern Bar

As the meeting with Thomas came to a close, Sophia waltzed towards the bar to fetch a refill on her champagne. Thanking Snarf politely, her emerald gaze noticed the handsome masculine form of Grier@tigerchuffs as he took a seat at a table within the tavern. A delicate smile played at the corner of her lips as she approached him. She wanted to inquire about the whereabouts of the installation for her new lights. She gracefully sat in the chair across from her, her gaze locking with his to engage him in conversation. "Hello Grier. It's nice to see you here." She took a sip of the Cristal to wet her lips. "How is business treating you?" She was referring to the onset of workload she assumed he had due to the renovations in the basement. Her mind wondered briefly to the tavern owner. She longed to see him, and truly was worried that he had not returned from his "business trip" although it was none of her business. Yet, somehow she couldn't help but worry and hope for his safe return.

The tavern doors swings wide open, cascading a long dark shadow across the taver floor. A man of muscular build with broad shoulders, standing tall with authority and purpose, confidently strides in. He is garbed in tight dark brown leathers and heavy travelling boots. Over that, blackened steel greaves protect his shins, a well polished ornate breastplate covers his chest and braces of the same darkened sturdy extravagant material extend to his solid gauntlets. He holds tight under his arm a visored helmet to complete the military ensemble.

His face, the only bare skin exposed, bares a man weathered by many a hardships and obstacles, aged by the sun and littered with long healed reminants of scars he would be estimated in his late thirties. Soft stubble litters his masculine jawline, the thick ragged dirty blonde hair atop his head only adds to his rugged charm.

The one feature that truly makes the man unique is his deep dark mesmerising brown eyes with a soft copperish glow like that of burning charcoal.
A soft scent of brimstone flows on the air following him in as he makes his way to a secluded seat at the bar, eyeing those he walks past along the way.

Once at the bar he places his helmet carefully down as he takes his seat and removes from a hidden pocket a modest pouch of coins. He throws the pouch down deliberately allowing a few pieces of shining gold to roll out.
He then firmly taps the table top twice with his fingers in attempt to signal for service.

As he waits he leans against the bar and tilts his head to the side, blonde wavy locks fall partially in front of his face as those deep dark, almost fiery orbs take in the surrounding sights.

As Cash Awoke he took notice on how he appeared to be trapped in a chest or perhaps a crate, 'the fuck did i do last night' as Cash tried to rack his brain for the answer he suddenly stared hearing loud snoring from outside his confinement. 'Well that answer that i am not inside my room, Now i only have to wake up whoever it is out there and tell them to release me' "HELP AM TRAPPED IN BOX"

Dude just walks in. Blood-spattered cuffs.

He went through the halls, unslinging his katana.
To where he places it over his shoulder instead.

Could feel the aura pulsating behind one such door.

After going through a wrong turn, down a spiral maze, through a marsh and up somehow through the Taverns bushes bordering on the closest body of water still in the territory Johnny Black said to hell with going through the front door twice. He turned into bats, yes he did. Flew straight into an open window. All the bats tried to redirect their trajectory upon entrance back to the outside but they stil collided into the black portal blobbing.

After coming out of a chandelier over hanging many tables askewed with patrons: He sat into a nook with 1 overhanging lantern. Sword still on shoulder. He taps twice on the table with his free hand.

The slight click of heels against the flooring made her entrance more notable than she would have wanted. It was an interesting noise to hear. As she wasn't wearing that high of heels, yet there they went. They were on her new boots, she had refused to wear much else, there was nothing she would bother to do about it. Her outfit itself was bought just recently by money not hers. Consisting of a black band-t promoting some punk band named the Broken inside.
Seeming too realistic blood splatters against he fabric. Fresh or painted it would be hard to tell. A Bloody cloth is wrapped around her left wrist hanging down to her baggy, ripped jeans. The tears if one was to look, unnatural. Held on her waist by a faded brown belt.

A earbud hung loosely around one ear the other hanging into her pocket. The blonde hair that usually cascaded across her shoulders. Tied in a high ponytail allowing easy notice of the fallen-angel wing tattoo on her neck. Settling herself down at a table she starts to observe people. Wondering if they had any good hard brews here. Hoping she wouldn't be given a cocktail or some fruity drink instead.

Her dark irises watch the movement of those close to her. Which well enough there was a burly looking man at a table close by. A strand of blonde hair slowly dripped to black. Stuffing the fallen earbud back into her ear. The blaring like loud music her only known comfort against the voices in her mind.

Rising from his seat, the burly man leaves all behind as he approaches the newcomers table. She could not hide from his intense gaze nor could her music drive away his voice, instead the little speaker in her ear begins to softly fizzle as it cracks and pops fading to silence.
He walks proper with a disciplined posture, a slight smirk apon his lips.
He nods to the seat across from the girl but waits for no reply as he takes it and sits down.

"Don't fight it, that colour looks much better on you." Is all he says before a waiter brings over his ordered drink.

His voice was deep, warm and smooth. Every word and syllable perfectly pronounced.
His eyes are friendly yet something undeterminable about his presence wails with a warning.

She stops the waiter before they go, after all they had given him his drink before even asking her what she would like. From the man she ordered a glass of vodka. It wouldn't calm the voices but a buzz helped her. She hated fruit sweet drinks. Waist of alcohol she would say, to be mixed into fruity concessions with too much sugar. Gave her headaches that were worse then the blood rush.

The man across from her kept her interest. He seemed strong, menacing, the worse type of charming. Yet, maybe just to annoy him, she would keep the headphones in her ears, for muffling the sound of everyone.

“ Fight what?"

Crossing her legs instinctively under the table as she spoke. Her word questioning thought she knew what he meant. She didn't like the black of her hair. Who ever this man was it was setting her internal monitors off the walls. As they sat and sipped their drinks another long strand of blonde hair dripped to black. Overall it was changing her appearance slowly. She protested this change by pushing the strand behind her ear as if it was normal. She didn't like this situation much. Wanting to be alone, or at least with her music. Overwhelmingly she struggled to keep her facade up. @Dark Light

He smiled a patient smile but there was a hint of agitation in his eyes.
After taking a sip and placing down his drink he questions.
"So how much longer do you think you have?"
Nonchalant and casual.
His eyes quickly wander around the room before falling back upon the girl with full focus, an eager curious interest burning in those deep mesmerising orbs.
"Well?"

@Dark Light

"Longer till what?"

She stated simply, sipping on her glass of vodka. Her voice sounding like she knew nothing of what he was talking about. Her eyes told a different tale. That is if you could look into the darkness in them without being eaten. The hair strand behind her ear slowly relaxed back to blonde. Straying at a darker brown.
Her gaze never lifted off him. Like how your supposed to keep eye contact with an alpha if your challenging them. She wouldn't amit to being different from everyone else. Even if he could somehow tell. He was powerful she wouldn't admit that either. He wanted answers and she was gonna play her favorite game.

5 words or less anyone?

@Song Book

The man's chair creeks with his weight as he breaks his perfect posture to lean back into it, relaxing, getting comfortable. His steely gaze never faulting.
His fingers of one hand hammer down onto the table top in a repetitive succession.
Over and over again.
He sips from his cup, eye contact never breaking, fingers drumming
'du du du dah'. 'du du du dah'.
Suddenly his foot brushes past hers.

@Dark Light
He gave no response to her own question allowing her to shift a slight smirk on her lips. No one liked the five words or less game.

An eye brow raised slightly at his actions, relaxing after a second. Her own legs tuck under the chair as his foot brushes past. To many bad memories with flirting, any footsie she would rather not involve in.
Though her expression stayed stoic, more strands of soft hair flayed black. A warning shot, he shouldn't tempt fate. As Jet knew she's a harsh mistress.

As she stared at him her gaze would seem too bleed over. Letting her mind wander off while her body sits as if set in stone. Without noticing she had polished off the glass of vodka and slowly started tapping the glass with her finger. Making no audible noise more than a tap which compared to his drumming wouldn't be as noticeable. The drumming, it had quieted the voices that would had kept her seeking company.

He noticed her eyes fall vacant, her attention and focus clearly fading. He takes another sip of his drink. Lips moving behind the cup, soft whispers hidden by the dual drumming.

That which brushed past her foot continued to move, a solid shadow of pure darkness circling a chair leg and her own.
It had surrounded both legs, just inches away from touching her as it raised up the back of her chair.
With one word it would tighten.

He simply watched and waited, seeing what she would do before he made his move.

Her attention was back as soon as he mumbled the first word. Her finger impatiently tapping the glass more deciding it would be best to get away from the man infront of her. Wanting her music back, mostly to keep her sanity from falling. Even though the voices were gone as well. Taking her hair down from the pony tail the process showing off the many strands of jet black that had started to form. An excuse of wanting the Vodka quicker than a waitress could get forming in her mind. She could easily flip out the the chair. The shadows under the table reminding he of the..

No don't think about it it just gets.. A flair of her own darkness speaking up along her legs, twisting up them towards her hands. Which she keeps clearly visible tapping on the glass. Worse...

Finding another action to keep her mind away from the thought she started undoing the wrap on her arm. Wanting to tighten the bloody bandage. Underneath the bandage her arm was an area of long deep cuts with a layer of the same stuff on her legs but clear covering them.

@Song Book
The mans eyes filled with delight, he places his cup down.
A soft near still breeze slowly brings with it a chilling cold snap as it hungrily drains the warmth from the room.
The cold air seemingly brought an eerie growth and life to every shadow in the tavern as they grew darker and stretched further.
Light and warmth both dimming.

The strangers eyes now glowing, burning like the embers of a fire.
His twisted demeanour not aggressive, but welcoming.

"Come out, come out wherever you are."
His soft audible whisper dancing about, playing in the air.

"More vodka. Long day."
She called out to a waitress passing. The cold didn't exactly bother her. When you grow up in snow, it was more comforting. Her head tilting her eyes closing slightly. Mostly preparing her senses for anything that may happen. Her hand clutching the vodka glass waiting for more.
" Still talking to the air?"
She said to him casually. She wouldn't pressure herself to react harshly. Maybe it was just the fact that he was enjoying this reaction. She despised of it.