@Mimic

Alex almost dropped the whiskey bottle when her cigarette split down the middle and started talking. Weird stuff happens around here, but this has never happened. She put the cigarette on the side of the ashtray and stared at it and studied it like it contained the secrets of the universe.

"Nur herz tha Prepper zitian?" She jumped back a bit and stared is disbelief. "Nuh nuh!" She looked around the room, making sure no one was noticing her or the cigarette. Picking up the whiskey bottle, she said to herself, "I'm definitely not drunk already, I've only had one shot, so there must be something in this drink.

Alex thought she must just be working to hard. Just another thing to add to the list of weird shit thats happened today.

"Rite, can we tack?"

Alex sighed and looked around the tavern once more. She bent down to be pretty close to this enchanted cigarette. "Alright, ah dunno whats goin' on an' ah dunno whit yoo're sayin', but if ye are real, dae ye min' showin' yer true self?"

Without warning bright sparks suddenly erupt from the frame of the large wooden door, followed by the continuous wine of the warping metal frame. The light slowly follows the shape of the door, the metal glowing white hot. As quickly as the sparks move, so too does the door repair itself. Metal cooling and shifting back into place, splintered wood reforming, the door refuses to oblige the, frankly rude, request for entry.
A loud thump is heard, as if someone with a very inadequate battering ram was attempting to barge in through the, still very much unwelded, door.

“Argh!”

As if on queue the door slowly swings open, revealing a man who is either a cowboy, or is trying much too hard to look like one. Complete with worn hat and duster.
Rubbing his shoulder roughly, a look of pain smeared across his face. A small hand welder at his feet. He quickly notices the, now open, door, and a large grin spreads across his face.

“Hah, knew I’d get it ope-”

He looks around, seeing the distinctly not empty club he was expecting.

“This… This isn’t XYZ is it?” He sighs.“Knew that intel was rubbish. Sorry about the door, I can pay for that.” He says in a distinctly non-western accent, gesturing towards it’s spotless wooden surface.
He makes to leave, when he seems to come to a revelation. Making his way over to the bar, he pulls his coat back slightly, revealing the two large and badly concealed pistols at his sides, and retrieves a few silver credsticks.

“If I’m out a job I can at least make the most of tonight.” The wannabe cowboy pulls out a seat for himself, and sits, only a few seats away from a quite disgruntled looking white haired girl. His head scans the room, seemingly for a bartender.

@timelord1101

Zyrid passed over the brief five hundred page chapter on heat and its effects on light, zipping to the end of the book just as the white haired women spoke. It was a rare and strange occurrence for him to leave the security of the ring of Lokei - not to mention extremely painful and inconvenient. Though, this wouldn't be the first time he had left the comfort of his library to explore the material plane, nor the first time he had done so for a woman.

Reluctantly, but with a sly smile, Zyrid began to stand from his chair and walk towards the bookcase in front of him. The leathery pigments and occasional golden trim dimmed in color, a shallow shadow of a door appearing among the books. A few steps from this looming archway, Zyrid's form began to shift and distort. His long streaked grey hair began to snake down his torso and beneath his linen shirt, his features momentarily covered by long fluid grey lines that flowed across his now paling skin.

The wrinkles of his body began to stretch and release an elastic power, his skin thickening and his complexion reducing significantly in age. From his now bald face sprouted thick dark hairs, short and standing to attention. His white eyes darkened as everything else did, stopping in between a pale blue and light grey, like a clear water lake over a vast stony plateau. His arched nose straightened into a chiseled feature of impressive sharpness, as did his jaw and previously sagging chin. The plain garments stretched and tore around his new form, dropping to the floor as he walked.

Stood now, a foot away from the dark looming outline of a grand doorway, is young man of impressive stature and muscularity. His perfect appearance disputed only by a deep scar running along the left eye and down to the jaw. His starkly naked body smooth and bronzed in the most natural sense, like expertly tanned leather. Zyrid was now his young self, a previous invention of humanity he had experimented with a decade or two before the present. He had always enjoyed this body as he strolled through the material plane, it gave him a viable edge in comparison to his newly imagined old fart facade.

With a brief glimpse down at his defined pectorals and evident but not overly obscene abdominal muscles - as well as that which lies further down, which was of course humbly impressive - Zyrid let out a contently calm sigh. An athletic build, as Zyrid remembers noting it down during his invention stage, the air of confidence with the slightest drop of vulnerability. Mysterious to the point of excitement, but not too alien that onlookers feel disconnected.

Zyrid could visualize his notes as he took the last step through into the material plane. For a moment the dark archway led into nothingness, no sound and yet not silent, an immovable lack of anything - and then everything at once. Every vibrant color, vivid emotion, sensory stimulus, unavoidable sound and an equilibrium of every temperature all in one moment. Then, as his body was squeezed through a pin sized hole in this plane, his foot met the floor after an eternity of stillness and Zyrid appeared before the white haired female.

Dressed in complimentary tight leathers and silk undergarments against his skin, Zyrid smiled genuinely and gave a small combination of a nod and bow towards the beauty before him. Raising his head back, he slicked a strong hand between the jet black strands atop his head and pushed back his shoulder length hair behind his ears. Hefting his wide shoulders back he cracked his neck. Then, awkwardly, and most suddenly, Zyrid screamed - excessively loud and at a heart wrenching pitch - the journey through the eternal dark hitting him begrudgingly and without warning with an immense and endless onslaught of everything imaginable.

Zyrid's handsome material form passed out cold.

@Mimic@Continuum

Moments had passed and Alex seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She turned to the side in her stool, facing the open floor. Maybe the strange happenings were just a figment of her overworked imagination; Alex hasn't quite been herself since all of the melodrama with Clay. She has done and seen crazier occurrences, and Alex is surely no stranger to strange things.

She had just begun to return to the serene state she had previously been when seemly out of thin air, a man appeared in front of her, like he had come from a small singularity of mass. He was a fit and robust looking male, draped almost carefully in leather and silk as if the fabrics were afraid of hurting this form. Alex would not deny that he was young and handsome, but something in his eyes told her that he was much older. Much like if she were looking into her own eyes.

The man made a small gesture to acknowledge her, almost like a bow, and when he finished he swept his dark hair out of the frame of his face. Alex gave him a shy smirk, eyeing him from head to toe, to get an assessment of him. He was quite tall and beautiful if she must put words to him. Interrupted in her thoughts by a loud scream that made her feel an empty pit in the bottom of her stomach, Alex jumped to her feet and took a step towards the man before her.

Fainting and crumpling to the floor, Alex made a lunge to catch him, reaching his head before it hit the ground. Shocked and astonished by how quickly this had happened, she could't find the voice to call out for help. Instead, she pulled the mans head and shoulders into her lap while she positioned herself upright on the floor. Looking around the room she found the nearest person, another man at the bar. She had a wavering in her voice, which the accent harshly covered up, "Oi, Cowboy. Yea, you with the getup. Help me carry em upstairs." She gestured to the man in her lap.

There was kindness in her eyes as she moved the hair from his face and studied a large scar that gave him the appearance of a warrior, a kindness usually reserved for only her brothers, but somehow he was different. Alex didn't know how or why, she just knew.

@Mimic@timelord1101
Doorman had begun taking in the odd flavour of the bar he found himself in. An interestingly authentic take on a old styled tavern, he thought. The warm fireplace and novel decour seemed to melt much of his stress away, so he shifted his posture on the stool and begun reading over the menu. The patrons had an odd look to them, an eerie feeling of distance he hadn’t experienced before. His pondering was interrupted by a loud scream which pierced his thoughts like knife.
Almost falling out of his chair from surprise, Doorman quickly righted himself. He turned to face the noise, his hand instinctively moving closer to his hip. In front of him lay a man, who he could swear was not there a second ago, in the arms of the white haired woman. Still shocked at the sudden noise and… person, Doorman could do little but stare until-

"Oi, Cowboy. Yea, you with the getup. Help me carry em upstairs." A thick Scottish accent jump-started his brain. His body, rusty from a few years of the slow life, took a painfully long time to get him out of his seat and into action.

“Who i- you know what, I don’t want to know.” Doorman moved to the, rather impressively fit, man’s legs. He nodded towards the, presumably Scottish, woman and together they lifted the mysterious figure.
Touching him left an oddly strange sensation, almost like a tingling where skin made contact, but that quickly faded as the group made it’s way towards the staircase.

“Is there a spare room or something we can put him in? Any docs in this place?” He said, still very much ignorant of his current surroundings and situation.

@Continuum@Mimic

The cowboy looked shocked at her question, but nevertheless he came to help Alex drag the man to a place where he could be better cared for. “Who i- you know what, I don’t want to know.” He seemed very out of place. He looked like he came right out of an old Western movie, a long time ago, but yet he spoke very modern and seemed to lack the certain charm of a cowboy. Well, charm may not be the right word, since cowboys did not lead too much of a glamorous life.

He grabbed ahold of the mans legs and together they heaved him up and up the stairs. “Is there a spare room or something we can put him in? Any docs in this place?” Cowboy asked, obviously new to the place.
"Up the stairs there are rooms and the Doc should be lurking about 'ere somewhere."

Once at the top of the stairs, Alex looked around for which of the rooms were empty. Seeing a room thats door was slightly ajar, she motioned her head for Cowboy to head towards it. Alex nudged the door open with her shoulder and instructed him to set the man on the bed. "'Ere is good. Do ya mind goin' downstairs and finding the Doc? His name is Dr. Alobe. If ya can't find him, ask Dorian. He can help." @Billsomething@Dark Light

She gently propped a pillow under the mans head and pulled up a chair to wait for the doctor.

@Continuum@timelord1101

Zyrid dreamed a vivid dream.

Long droves of white capped mountains with thick leafy forests around their fat necks, expansive lakes of blue and white, occasionally the waters appeared patched almost, with blocks of different colors. Zyrid could have swore he saw some kind of beast, an elongated and slippy torso accompanied by small beady eyes, push its head up out of the water and smile at him. The birds sang melodies from the branches up high, and Zyrid experienced this all out of body, as if aware of it all at the same time. It was picturesque, snow falling in the distance and the slow tempo the wind made as it forced the water aside, a pleasant cacophony of unlikely instruments.

Abruptly the winds changed and the snow melted away into the white clouds above. Strange insect like noises buzzed in Zyrid's ear, deep and guttural, sometimes shuddering or creaking at intervals. Zyrid found himself sat on a bench by a strange beach, it's sand finer than air itself, his apparent omnipresent-ness stolen away from him just as the serene landscape was. On this beach were a group of men, dressed in a very peculiar manner.

They were all beefy and muscular and their great calf muscles were bare. In fact, it appeared their entire bottom half was completely uncovered, as the wind violently blew around this strange checkered skirt they all had on. Some of them were drinking, others were talking among themselves, laughing and exchanging thoughts.

Then the insect buzzing ceased and a horrible raucous erupted from the beach, from where the men were crowded. They all began to clap and cheer jovially, the opposite of Zyrid's initial reaction in honesty, as he felt himself curl up and scrunch his face in disgust. The noise was dreadful, somewhere between a dying cat and a long, ugly release of excess gas. At the center of the men, now visible as they parted to let him through, stood a man with some kind of outer body breathing device, his cheeks purples and lips pursed to a hollow stick.

The dream had become too weird for Zyrid, so his unconscious rolled him back towards the outside world.

Slowly and as if for the first time, Zyrid opened his delicate eyes, finding himself in a smaller room than before. Above him, sat on a chair he saw soft white hair, breasts and fine clothing - the faint contour of a nose and eyes too perhaps. It was the female from before, with the interesting thick accent. Though unaware of the purpose, Zyrid would not deny a comfortable bed as he needed a rest after his journey through the eternal dark.

Quickly, Zyrid realized that he was stood before the white haired female not long ago, shock to the new body most likely. It had been a while since he had been in this plane, he was rather out of touch with various cultures and their tendencies - be it mating, communication or sacrifice.

Wait! By the all the Gods, was this some kind of sacrifice ceremony, some humiliating way to take Zyrids trust? He thought this was a Tavern, an honest and humble establishment. Is sacrifice allowed in Taverns here? Is this a special room, where the sacrifice must take place? Is that why she looked at him so closely?

But, surely not!

This could not be a mating ritual, oh by all that is and should be, let it not be a damned mating ritual. It was hard enough trying to explain himself to Eros after the incident in that port city, he couldn't bare to stand in front of her again. She was dangerously charming and softly seductive, it pained him even to be in her presence, her curves and various subtleties. Oh, he could not go through that again, for they went at it for far too long, and though it was divinely glorious, he was back logged on reading for a year!

With all these thoughts and more passing through his material brain at the rate at which he would normally think in the expanse, Zyrid felt obscenely fuzzy and warm. In that first 0.3 seconds of opening his eyes from the position on the bed his mind had went through these paces. Zyrid felt his eyes rolling back once again, so in a final attempt to kick his material body into commission he pushed an ounce of air out from the lungs, past his voice box and over his tongue.

From an on lookers point of view, Zyrid's eyes fluttered and his body shifted by the smallest of margins. A spark of deep purple magical energy licked across his finger tips like candle fire and he coughed very quietly in his slumber, a minuscule whisper of smoke rising from his lips.

Zyrid had awoken for 0.32 of a second, then passed out once more.

@Mimic

Alex leaned over in her chair so that she was closer to this mysterious man who came out of nowhere. She felt a fondness and need to protect, but it struck her that this man is not one that needs protection. Yet, she still felt a connection. Unable to figure out why, it would surely eat her brain, at least until he woke up.

For a moment, while studying his face, it seemed like he would wake up. His eyelids fluttered and he made a small breath, like he would speak. Extraordinarily Alex noticed a spark of purple flame-like light arise from the tips of his fingers. She reached for his hand and took it to examine it. She was too immersed in his hand to notice the small sliver of smoke he seemed to breathe out. But just as soon as he woke, he fell back asleep and again went limp. Alex sighed and land back in her chair, still lightly touching her fingers to his and wondering.

@timelord1101@Mimic
Alex walked over to Other Alex. "Alex, I think that's the Mimic." He said warily, and on the hilt of his sword. "You might want to take a large step back before it wakes up."

@timelord1101

Zyrid was once again in a lucid dream, for that was the curse of his existence, a constant awareness of things. In this dream there was a constant darkness and eerie silence. From the darkness - which you must understand was not black nor was it a deep grey, simple colorless - came tendrils that wrapped around Zyrid's hands tightly, round orifices clasping at his skin with a grasp of suction. They raked at his flesh and tore away his muscle until only his bones were left and his arm felt cold after the wrist.

A bright light, appearing in the distance or perhaps straight before him, broke this torture and begin to pull him in towards it, his hands now before him untouched and full functional. Each ray wrapping itself around his body one by one until he felt his chest being lurched forward. A rush of mild air and the faint aroma of old wood filled his sense, a clank of metal on glass and the faintest of crackles from a distant fire. A softness lay beneath him, warped around his shape as if built to hold him, a welcome contrast to the emptiness of the darkness.

Something plump held Zyrid's head a loft as his eyes opened, a warmth waving over his entire body as he felt the nerves and transmitters reboot in sequence. The female still sat in the chair beside him, a contemplative look upon her face, confusion also. Were Zyrid a mere mortal he would have felt like both fearing and admiring her, though he now looked upon her gently with a hint of gratitude. He brought his hands to his side and pushed on his lean arm, edging himself upright in the bed.

He instinctively fired his eyes toward his upper thigh, only to see the females hand upon it, he had thought it something more threatening. He realized then that he had knocked it aside as he had swiftly reached back to support himself, carelessly pushing the hand aside. With a quick movement of his arm he brought a thick skinned and yet soft hand on top of the females.

"Sorry, and thank you," Zyrid's voice was thick with inflection and deep tone, a life of experimenting and he had still not settled for a particular accent. If anything he had made his own - vowels slightly elongate in the center of words and in those sentences with consecutive sharp endings, an almost music melody runs between the syllables. He had not needed to speak nor interact with anyone on the material plane for some time now, he would need to rid himself of the so called 'rust'.

Zyrid rested back on the head board of the bed and smiled gratefully with his charming lips, forcing his free hand into his thick black mane to rearrange his wild hair into the pushed back way he liked it. He realized that he had been holding the females eye and hand for a while too long, so looked down to the covers of the bed half mindlessly, shifting his hand to his lap too. His body settled there for a brief moment and his muscles ceased to tense for the first time since he woke up. He retracted the hand from his hair and took a deep breath in, there would hopefully be no more of this passing out business for a while yet.

Zyrid then heard a voice at the door, and saw the glint of metal at someones hips.

@Overlord24

Ayeka pulls Alex to the side to let a group of people going up the stairs, the other person she know was the bouncer Alex, she did not recognized the cowboy or the person that they were carrying to a room. She wanted to know what happen but she had to get to the bar. She walks down the steps to the bar to serve the patriots who was sitting at the tables and at the bar.

@Billsomething@Dark Light@Alisdragon911@timelord1101
Doorman was quite experienced at carrying bodies, he’d had to do it more times than he could count. But there was a strange uneasiness in his gut. Whether it was this oddly inviting tavern, or the presence of this man he couldn’t be sure.

The woman he was helping seemed very comfortable in this place, navigating the halls with an ease that comes from raw experience. Her relatively calm demeanor with this situation was reassuring, she'd be able to deal with all this, and he could return to the bar for a much needed drink. After the two of them placed the body down onto the bed, the white haired girl turned to Doorman.
"'Ere is good. Do ya mind goin' downstairs and finding the Doc? His name is Dr. Alobe. If ya can't find him, ask Dorian. He can help."

“Sure, I guess. Least I can do.” Doorman didn’t want to admit it, but he was slightly enjoying this. The thrill of the unknown, a goal to fulfill that was more than just drinking or a simple break-in. There was no violence here, he did not feel like his life was in danger, yet his heart was beating just that tiny bit faster.

Doorman leaves the room, passing a young boy with a sword and a strange elf, on his way to the staircase down. He reaches the bottom and realizes. ‘What the hell is this Dr. Alobe meant to look like, Or that Dorian for a matter of fact?’ Scanning the room briefly none of the patrons looked particularly ‘doctor-y’. Doorman figures he’ll save some time and just ask.

“Hey, I’m looking for a Dr. Alobe, or a Dorian. Anyone who has some medical knowledge really.” Doorman loudly and brashly asks to the room at large.

@Continuum @Dark Light

"Dorian is at a table in the back, he is the one in the fancy suit drinking fancy wine." Ayeka says in a sad tone making a cold drink for herself, last time she try healing someone with ice end up in a bad iccendt that she does not want to remember at all. She hopes that information could help the cowboy out a little bit than no help at all.

@Mimic@Overlord24

Watching as the man woke up, Alex sat still, waiting for him to speak. He propped himself up on his arm and looked down, assessing the situation. His hand moved to rest upon hers as he spoke with a voice that was soft and warm, deep and inviting. "Sorry, and thank you." Alex remained silent, but she smiled at him, and nodded. Leaning against the headboard an interesting look crossed his face, as he realized that he might have been a bit awkward. He removed his hand from hers and into his lap, and Alex blushed a bit realizing that it was, in fact, a bit awkward. She quickly averted her gaze, looking towards the floor and realizing that the Other Alex was in the doorway.

'Where the hell did he come from,' the confusion didn't stop there. "Alex, I think that's the Mimic." His hand was grazing the hilt of his sword. "You might want to take a large step back before it wakes up." Alex stood up and took a step to the side, as to block their view of each other. "Alex, go downstairs. You have no business being' 'ere. If he proves to be difficult, it's my job to take care of it." Her eyes flashed purple and she intently stared him down, threatening him for the second time that day. "Now, I don't want any trouble now, ya 'ere?"

Mimic or not, this man needed to rest and didn't need this annoying little bugger bothering him.

@timelord1101@Overlord24

Zyrid over heard the brief conversation between this young one at the door and the white haired female, an essence of tension between the two certainly. It was often that his mimic transport led to a confrontation, all things considered. Though, he rarely let it go as far as real violence, he held that privilege for the truly deserving. This young boy didn't seem the type, truly evil mockery of morality type that is, not at this age Zyrid would hope.

A flare of magic roared in Zyrid's mind as he sensed the female perform some kind of thaumaturgy technique, interest was growing with her. Softly, Zyrid pulled himself from the bed, his knee's holding their bend for a while longer than most would need, still adjusting to the height. He straightened his back from the slumped position he was so used to and placed a hand on the females shoulder as he stumbled forward - half for support and half to intervene.

"There will be no need for that," He pressed, continuing to both the female and young male "I am no mimic, but I do take residence within one when I choose,".

He stood straight now, a few inches over six feet, and his form was settling. The thread of every muscle and each layer of skin has found its place, and a confidence began to drip from his personality. He often found these conversations hard to end, as people usually had a lot of questions, though he didn't feel like answering any just yet.

"Just know I mean no harm. And that if that dusting female is still ill, I will tend to her myself." With this he took his hand from the females shoulder and sat back down on the bed, his head a bit light. Perhaps things weren't quiet in place just yet. Clasping his head Zyrid rested his elbows on his bent knees and breathed slowly.

@Mimic@Overlord24@Continuum

Alex felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned her head towards the man, her eyes still glimmering purple. "There will be no need for that," He leaned on her shoulder, seemingly looking for something to prop himself on. "I am no mimic, but I do take residence within one when I choose,".

"Just know I mean no harm. And that if that dusting female is still ill, I will tend to her myself." He removed his hand and sat back down on the bed. He looked dizzy. Alex hoped that the cowboy was coming with the doctor soon. She turned and gave a glance to the man on the bed and then returned her attention to Alex. "Alright, ya heard em. He's no mimic. Now git on." She resolved to stand in front of the bed until Alex left.

@timelord1101@Mimic

Like everyone Dorian noticed the new patrons arrival, but it was not by the abrupt exuberant appearance or deadly demanding screams that followed. Sure he could not deny the visual stimulation that got caught in his peripheral even as he tried to contain his focus to his note book, sure the scream was unavoidably thought interrupting as it echoed throughout the taverns halls, but neither phased the dark haired man. No he swelled on other things.

Zyrids intrusion into the Tavern brought with it a deep undetectable discomfort to the establishment, felt only by the ancient wooden walls and shared with Dorian himself as the new guest occupied a space in which he didn't belong. It was an unease and discomfort that grew and became increasingly undeniable.
That is how the owner became aware.

The more he tried to understand it the more elusive the feeling became.
It was an image he couldn't focus on. A word stuck on the tip of a tongue, lost and forgotten. An audible hum without location. The itch of a phantom limb.
It was simply...

---

Clay who is not far away, wore a proud smile on his face from his earlier exploits, when a sudden scent reached upon his lupine senses.
Clay heard the following scream louder and more clearly than those nearby, he could taste the excitement and fear in the air that the commotion caused, yet his focus remained on one specific smell amongst them all, unnoticeable to a normal nose it was one he was both familiar and fond of.

He could no sooner explain the sensation it created to a regular human than he could explain colour to a blind man. Nearly every human and many creatures exuded it to some degree yet to each person it remained unique and as individual as their finger print. Some might call it pheromones, it may just be an alteration of chemical balance, either way from Clays educated experience it was undeniably associated to attraction, and this was Alex's print.

Clay usually revelled in causing such minuscule unknown unnoticeable bodily alterations, when they were reserved for him. This was not the case. Jealousy boiled in his blood as competition consumed his not so dormant alpha subconscious. Unwillingly he balled his hands into fists as he headed towards the commotion.

@timelord1101@Mimic
"I'm not here to cause trouble." Alex practically snarled.
"And I healed Ayeka myself, for your infrmation, since usng the Rurgal needs a level 4 wizard, which I myself happen to be."
"Fine, I'll leave, I was just trying to help Alex."

@timelord1101@Dark Light

Not lifting his weary head from his sweaty palms, Zyrid called out to the female, whom he believed was called Alex. At first the words didn't break past his lips, as they were stuck together with dried saliva. Piercing past the blockade eventually, after a moment rubbing a finger across his mouth, he spoke.

"If you have any questions, go ahead. Though, I'd like to talk to whoever is in charge around here." He didn't mean anything by it, just she didn't seem like the owner is all, though he did get a sense of loyalty and ferocity in her heart.

Zyrid remained in his mind after speaking, contemplating his stupidity at perceiving this room as sacrificial or the stage for a mating ritual, it is not uncommon for the mind to stray off the path of intelligence when your very being gets pulled apart and put back together again in one long excruciatingly pleasant moment. The sounds continued, but a separate sense seeped into Zyrid's mind. He wasn't sure whether it was the floor, the walls or the building itself but something was looking in his direction - whether it saw him or not was unknown to him.

A heavy set of footsteps began to climb the stairs he had been carried up, a strong male or perhaps irregularly sized female. None the less Zyrid could hear each determined footstep over the steady buzz of the floor below. For a moment he glanced at the female, examining her hair and body objectively, as if conducting research. Her confidence in context and behavior suggested that she was high up on whatever hierarchy this place has, Zyrid was sure of it.

@Mimic@timelord1101

Clay arrived at the crowded room with a small huff, leaning against the open door he casually propped himself up as he folded his arms across his wide chest. Since his fight with Tic he had cleaned himself up, his hair still damp with streaks of water.
"So who's this guy?" Clay brazenly interjects as he points to Zyrid with his jaw.

"n' I hope someone's paying for this room." he slyly adds in, Alex now his focus.

Clay was of a simple mind, he had little understanding or control over the intricacies of emotions, especially his own. His tension swelled just beneath his skin, the adrenalin of his earlier fight still a familiar memory to his veins. He looked from person to person as he scanned the room for an excuse.

Truth was, he was clueless to the current situation, of everyone there he had the furtherest understanding of what was going on or what had summoned such a congregation in one room. None of that seemed to concern him as his focus continually fell back to the interactions and distance left between Alex and the newcomer.