I found a hover-sofa, it was silvery and stellarpurple. When I sat a table, much like a martini glass, instantized appropriately for my person. I reached out of my mantle a book onto the table. It was a holobook of my adventures with the Jedi Masters from that turok planet I had earned my black lightsaber crystal.

Sometimes the book said a STARWARS sentence with the images seen. It started with the Jedi Master Tim Curry in his prime AGE,, then it showed him in the AGE I had last seen him before it splendored us watching the Jedi Women splashing each other with water in a sanctuary.

I turned the page with my gloved hand to Jedi Master Chevy Chase, , "Pizza the Hut!" . The holobook showed us playing carpetball without using the force.

Itotia would slowly finishing the one jazz routine before moving her drum out of the way but sitting in front of the mic on her long stool looking around at the various patrons of the tavern. "I wanted to thank everyone for coming to the tavern today. May this be the beginning of a great place to be merry and to maybe even find a new way." She says as she lifts up a small drink of water she got from her flask before taking a few seconds to breathe before lightly singing a song with no other instruments, just the beautiful sound of her voice she had perfected with years of performing.

With Melissa Joan Hart I was in the crystal cave by peach, or purple Varpeline Crystals, where I found my black type.

I came to a remembrance of where I was because of the Bard and turned my armored body her way a few inches, she had chosen to sing like a Lady, but knowing she was a Bard that tone may change to greater comfortability. I chose to eradicate my holobook at Melissa Joan Hart while still facing the stage like any of the Audience. From under my table my black lightsaber ignited through it and destroyed the holobook as a colonic blast. The table fixed itself, of course.

I pressed my lightsaber off to let the table completely finish fixing itself. My helmet inlarged the stage, magnifying the Bard how I want to see them. It was a feline, a cat creature, perhaps more wild than domestic, but certainly a feline. By the sound of their voice I was pleased with myself earlier speculating that she was the she. Looked like some person was layed on the floor, too. I wasn't too curious though, they were closer to the stage than me, surely it couldn't be too serious - yep, yep, there was a stubbly effort I saw of them getting up 1 arm first.

Ziick, the warrior from a distant galaxy, strode confidently into TNT 'The Nameless Tavern'. His battle-worn armour clinked and clanged with each step, a testament to the countless battles he had fought and survived. He was a towering figure, standing well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a chiselled jaw. He had a thick, wild mane of black hair that cascaded down his back and a thick beard that covered his lower face. His skin was tanned and weathered, his face etched with deep lines and scars.

As he looked around the tavern, he couldn't help but smile at the warm and inviting atmosphere. The soft glow from the burning hearth, the solid wooden walls, and the friendly staff all contributed to a sense of comfort and security. He made his way to the bar, where he was greeted by the friendly barkeep.

"Welcome, traveller," the barkeep said. "What can I get for you?"

Ziick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately carved pipe. He filled it with a strange, pungent smelling weed, the same that the hobbits were known to smoke in the distant land of Mordor.

"Got a light?" he asked.

The barkeep smiled and handed him a match. "Of course, sir."

As he lit the pipe, the sweet aroma of the weed filled the air, and the other patrons couldn't help but take notice of the mysterious stranger.

Ziick took a long, satisfying puff. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke, which swirled and eddied in the dim light of the tavern. He took in the sights and sounds of the tavern, the patrons chatting and laughing, the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation. He felt at home here, in this place that seemed to exist outside of time and space.

As he leaned against the bar, he couldn't help but think of all the battles he had fought, all the foes he had defeated. He had seen more than his fair share of death and destruction, but in this tavern, he felt safe and at peace. He knew that no matter what the future held, he would always have a place to rest his weary head and find solace in a cold, hard drink.

He took another puff of his pipe and smiled. He was ready for whatever lay ahead, because he knew that in this tavern, he was among friends.

Itotia smiled as she finished her short Acapella song and then reaching behind her and grabbing her lute again. To be honest, she wanted to rest her voice. She was also getting hungry and still wanted to entertain. Itotia looks up seeing another new face walk into the bar and thinks about them missing out laughing in her head. She keeps playing a light song on the strings masterfully as she leaves the stages and begins walking around the bar. Her tail swaying from side to side and her falcon, Brave, does a quick jump to her shoulder from the stand next to her on stage and follows her to the bar.

She smiles at the bartender, and owner of the bar and smiles. "hello boss man. Anyway I could possibly order some food? If that's okay. I can keep playing while I snack." She said curiously but still playing masterfully not missing a single beat or even looking at her lute. @Dark Light

The sun sets over a vast ocean, and a girl sits cross-legged on a terrace, overlooking a grove of trees. Laughter and chatter roll intermittently through the halls, filling the air with warmth and music. Happiness. Home. Love. The girl opens her eyes. The trees below bend and twirl with the wind, doing a complicated dance. Swooping cranes chitter as they run from the waves, louder than the ocean roars against the shore. The girl looked down at herself, she couldn't be more than a small child. Parts of a conversation float up from the middle wing of the house. "Is she still upstairs? I'm almost finished with supper." Mothers voice is unmistakable, a southern accent as sweet and thick as molasses. Even 6 generations after Earth's destruction, her accent was just the same as when she was raised there. Wait, Mothers... voice?

Something is wrong. Everything looks too bright, too perfect. She looks around, and everything reminds her of a faraway place. Something that doesn't exist anymore. This place has been abandoned for years. Another nagging memory pierces her brain. Home is gone. Mother is gone. They are never coming back. At the realization, the colors in her vision start bleeding, the laughter fades and the floor starts giving way. Something is very wrong.

Soft beeping replaces the laughter, and ice-cold metal binding her wrists replaces the warm ocean breeze. She shakes her head, trying to force the fog from her brain. The memories she thought she lost. The people she left behind. Where the fuck am I? She looks around at the interior of the ship's cockpit. Too many lights and that's no language she understands scrawled across the dashboard panels. She was never much of a pilot in the first place.

Concentrating on the back of the pilot's head, she attempted to worm her way into their mind, but it wasn't working. She could barely navigate her own mind, traversing someone elses was pretty much out of the question.

As she opened her mouth to get the pilot's attention, the door to the cockpit busted open and out of the corner of her eye, the barrel of a small pistol was pressed on her temple. "Close your mouth and keep your brains." His was gruff voice, definitely a 30's male or older. She obliged for now, but she hated biting her tongue.

"Temine, how much longer?" the man asks. The pilot, Temine, turned around and Alex could see that her face was horribly disfigured. Half was an average-looking mid-20s woman, and the other half looked like she had be attacked with acid. "Only a few minutes, Brigadier General Redd."

"Redd?!" She could hold her tongue no longer. "Redd, what the fuck? Untie me right now! My own fucking brother!" She was almost spitting the words out. She heard him cock the pistol, time slowed down to a crawl. She braced herself, knowing that this was her moment. Would she finally be at peace? She sighed, closed her eyes again, and waited for the shot. When it finally came, she jumped. And then she opened her eyes. Temine lay face down on the control panel, pushing the throttle forward, much faster than she supposed the ship was supposed to go.

"God damn it!" Redd launched to the controls and attempted to regain course over Temine's lifeless body. "If you would have just kept your mouth shut, we would be fine! I was here to help you! Now I have to drop you off somewhere else." She was no stranger to death, yet she couldn't take her eyes off the gaping wound in the back of the girls head. Why? As the ship stabilized, she could feel the swirl in her stomach as the ship changed directions. She wondered when she had eaten last. If anyone else was on the ship. Who would miss this poor woman in front of her?

Redd pushed the body to the floor and settled into the seat. Alex sat in stunned silence for the remainder of the trip.

As they got closer to the rift, she felt that she could remember something familiar about the route, but couldn't place it. Had she really lost that much time? What's the last thing she could actually remember?

The ship hovered directly above the rift for a few minutes while Redd made sure it was stable enough to be left. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Remember to keep your mouth shut this time. You are going to be blamed for this." He gestured to the woman lying on the floor, now rolled to her back, her disfigured cheek and eye the only part of her face visible to Alex. She nodded and lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry Redd, I don't remember much... I... uh-" He cut her off, "I know, I know. It's bad when even your loud mouth can't string words together. Everything is going to be alright. Just be quiet until you're off the ship. The landing is going to be hard. Stay there and lay low. Nobody knows where you are and not many people can purposefully navigate here. You'll be safe. Just wait for my word. Stay. There. Lay. Low. Got it?" She looked up and searched his face. He was telling the truth. She nodded. He gave her a sad smile before he got up and opened the cockpit door.

Before she knew it, she was hauled out of the seat and tossed out of the cockpit onto the floor of what looked like a cargo deck. Her question was answered, she wasn't the only one on the ship. The whole crew was gathered, about 10 others. They glared at her in silence. Someone was crying. Suddenly she felt bad that Temine had died because of her. Sort of. Her brother even looked a bit forlorn. She got up to her feet, no thanks to her hands that were still held with shackles behind her back. Looking around the deck, it looked like a freighting ship, likely part of the Federations fleet. She supposed they thought it was safer to move her than a prison transport ship would be.

Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the crew stepped up to her and spit in her face before grabbing her arm and dragging her to what looked like a large closet. With seats? An escape pod, of course. Redd came in and pushed her into a seat. The silence and the stares from the crew made the air thick, she took a deep breath of stale air and looked up at Redd. SMACK The back of Redds hand made sharp contact with her temple, a warm sensation blurred her vision. With her other eye she saw the blood on his Federation ring as he brought his hand down. That bastard! Fuck, keep it together. She could have killed him, and the whole crew if she could get her powers to work.

Redd strapped the safety restraints tight and bent down to whisper in her ear, "I don't have time to explain, I'll send a letter. Our old code, if you can remember it." She didn't make any indication that she heard him, aware that the crew was watching them carefully. She did remember that, those days were about all she remembered.

She didn't look up as he walked away. Nor when he closed and latched the door. Not even when she could hear the mechanisms releasing the pod. She only looked up when the pod had started falling, looking out the large window looking towards the rift. She wondered why this place? What's beyond the rift? It's pretty beautiful, no?

The G-Force from the rift plunged her mind into darkness. The only thing she could comprehend was the heat. And the impact.

The pod hurdled toward a field, just a half mile from the Tavern. The impact of the pod rang out with a sonic boom, and as the dust settled, the silence was deafening.

@themadhatter420@timelord1101
The finely dressed bartender had a distant look in his kindly eyes, there was a slight tension beneath his smooth sharp features as if he was listening or concentrating on something distant.
Itotia’s words did not go unheard however as he politely replies.

“Of course you can have a break and some food, order anything you like. You may be amazed by what we have available, unfortunately however I can not serve you this evening as I have someone to see.”

Punctuating his quick, sudden departure, a loud thud boomed from somewhere distant outside causing the walls to momentarily rattle slightly.

The escape pod that just traveled through space, through a rift and crashed violently to the ground, may have been a half mile away, but distance was one of the many laws that the tavern did not obey.
Dorian made his way up the stairs and to an old hallway with doors on either side. With a purposeful stride he made his way down along the soft lush carpet to a door long untouched. This door once belonged to one of his first employees, and beyond it was the room they had made theirs and all their belongings, now however, on the other side was the interior of a nearby space pod. With three delicate taps he knocks on the door.

“Are you ok?”

Sebastian was getting nearer the Feline, and thanks to his helmets auxillory reconnoiters he had heard her asking for food and the Blonde Male dismiss it, he was going to say "Halo there! Don't you move I'll hop over the bar from keeping you out, My Lady, you have a lovely voice, and I'm not going to let you tarnish it just because you don't have shoes on" - his hand would of gone from a wave to his hand over his head swuavely in approach and over her person onto the bar to a helmet gleam eye-met moment before hand-flipping over the bar, but a thudding quake had made Sebastian trod or something in his walk over, his hand had not reached the intential wave that she couldn't see|or hadn't and instead after as much as "Halo there! Don't you move" it made him stumble comfortably into the open round barstool beside her with his hand spanking her butt. He used his force to unshaken his gloved hand from being a blunt spanking, and instill a grope - getting it away better. @themadhatter420

@Dark Light

The tapping at the door roused her, but the voice came muffled. The pounding in her head was excruciating, she must have bounced it off the wall behind her during the crash. Redd was right, that fucking hurt. Her eyes still closed, she fumbled around the straps of her harness until she found the release button. In the darkness of the pod, she must have misjudged where the floor was or misjudged her ability to stand. She leaned forward from the seat and hit the floor in a crumpled heap. She opened her mouth to respond to the knocking, but the only sound that escaped was a broken moan that faded into a deep sigh.

The faintest slither of a frown touched the tavern owners brow, hearing the commotion and moans beyond the door. He had not worried over anything for over a century, so why did he feel worried now.
With firm kind words he continued, his voice offering the occupant in the space beyond the door a point of focus.

“Alex are you injured? Can you get out? You need to open the door. Alex.”

She trudged through the muck. It was a dense layer of wet silt and soil sitting atop a cobblestone road. On her shoulders, she felt the pull of her long cloak. It was soaked through and caked with sludge where it dragged on the ground, as were her boots. She felt pinned down by the weight of it. Each step forward was a struggle against all the filth of the world.

And she wanted to give up. That was the worst part.

The weight of exhaustion was tremendous. All she wanted was to slide down, onto her knees, and then perhaps find a place off to the side of the road where she might keep herself from being trampled underfoot. And she imagined that in that small space, under her grime-covered cloak, and pressed into the mess of wet earth -- that’s where she would find her rest.

She saw herself become petrified, as she moved forward through the world as if she were in a dream. She saw soft tissue replaced by hard minerals. There, low down in the pits of despair, she would sleep -- but she would also harden.

The thought filled her eyes with tears. Imagining herself as anything other than this hopeless thing -- this broken creature -- made her angry. They were not hopeful thoughts of restoration. Her imagination had become an escape, and just like in every aspect of her life, escape was a dangerous temptation.

She had to think clearly.

She had to keep her wits about her.

This was a new world after all.

And so there was no pause. She did not subsume to the nearly irresistible desire to give up. She pressed on and continued her walk, each step measured, each movement -- from the sway of her arms to the clenching and unclenching of her fists, and the slight stir of her hips -- a choreographed performance. To look human, small, and not overly assuming. Never threatening. She had to fit the conceived notions of her physical characteristics and those were that she was petite in build, female by the shape of her hips and the swell of her breasts, and perhaps most notable, that she was alone. That latter piece of information could cause her grief if this was the wrong sort of place to be -- and for a woman, when was it ever not?

There was a building up ahead. A tired-looking establishment that fit the environment with an ironic sort of perfection. It was gray in appearance and in mood, but from the windows, warm light shone out into the night.

Golden light.

Warmth.

That’s where she headed, and upon reaching the threshold, she took a moment to glance back into the night. Most of her features were tucked safely away under the shadow of her hood. All that was visible was a softly rounded chin, the pale shape of elegant jawlines, and a small mouth, with heart-shaped lips, dusted in just a whisper of color.

The sky was lit by a falling object. And where most would have rushed in a frenzy of curiosity and wonder, she narrowed her eyes deep in the shadows and frowned.

“No thank you,” she mouthed the words to herself before pushing through the door and crossing the threshold inside.

Ziick took a slow sip of his drink, feeling the warm liquid wash down his throat. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the memories of the massacre he had just witnessed. He was a hardened mercenary, accustomed to the horrors of war and the brutality of the galaxy. But the events of the last few days had left a lasting impression on him. He needed a moment of peace and solace.

That's when he heard the sound of the spaceship, causing a commotion outside the bar. Most patrons rushed towards the windows to catch a glimpse, but Ziick remained seated. He knew that problems always found their way to him, and he was not in the mood to go searching for more.

But his solitude was interrupted by the entrance of a woman. She was small in stature and dressed in a long, sodden cloak. Despite the shadows of her hood, he could see the sadness in her eyes. It was a sadness that he recognized all too well. It was a sadness that he himself had carried with him for years.

Ziick watched as she hesitated at the door, glancing back at the chaos outside. He was intrigued by her, and despite his usual demeanour, he felt a spark of curiosity. He was not a playboy, far from it, and he was not one to fall in love easily. But there was something about her that drew him in.

The woman finally pushed through the door and made her way into the bar. Ziick found himself following her every move as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the warm light.

Ziick's curiosity was piqued as he observed the lone woman standing at the door of the tavern, the hint of sadness in her eyes tugging at his heartstrings. He couldn't resist the urge to approach her, to try and alleviate some of her burdens, and thus, Ziick's imagination ran wild as he gazed upon the mysterious woman standing at the door. The allure of helping her and easing her troubles was too strong to ignore. He felt his body rise from his seat, his massive frame towering over the other patrons as he marched towards her, ready to be her saviour. However, as his hand reached out to touch her shoulder, he suddenly woke from his daydream, realizing that he had remained seated the entire time, his pipe still dangling from his lips. The disappointment was palpable as he sank back into his chair, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had let his imagination get the better of him, and now, the opportunity to make a difference was lost forever.

He emptied the glass in a single gulp, muttering to himself, "What a fool you are, you've defeated a hundred beasts, but you can't even summon the courage to speak to a woman. What a laugh."

Ziick was a man who carried the weight of a life filled with hardship and heartache. From a young age, he was forced to forge his own path, and as a result, everything that crossed his path was stained with blood, shadowed by darkness, and wracked with sorrow. It was not that he was afraid to speak to a woman, but rather, he was acutely aware that any encounter was likely to end in tragedy and bloodshed. He feared that his already frayed mental state would not be able to withstand the toll of yet another loss.

A shadow crossed the threshold of the tavern's doorway as a hulk of a man entered the building. His face mostly covered by the hood of his damp cloak, shadowing his face. He said no words, offered no greeting to the owner and walked up to the bar.

"Rum, and bring me the bottle." the harsh voice of the man sounded like that of a low engine running idle and had the tone of a man not looking for conversation. Coins clattered upon the counter, he didn't bother counting. He had more than enough to buy a bottle of rum. His face was dirty and his arms bore the scars of many a battle.

His head was bald, clean shaven and his square jawline was handset almost stuck in a permanent look of mild annoyance. He was beginning to get wrinkles on his face, the sign of an aging warrior.

He was done with taking jobs for useless farmers and their wives, it didn't pay as well as it did when he was a younger man. Yes, he was done with it all. The greatest of warriors, wielder of the Tooth of Gorm was done with this shit.

He was going to retire, an old crotchety man mostlike to be forgotten by the world. Sighing the old warrior looked at his own calloused hands almost a sad glint in his eyes "If only a old warrior like me could find one last job worth doin'" Krin, the Slayer muttered to himself wistfully.

Alex rolled over so that she was laying flat on her back. Determination flashes in her eyes, the steel cold purple pools just glinting with light. She could feel the power, but something was blocking it. The voice from the door finally coming in clear, “Alex, are you injured? Can you get out? You need to open the door. Alex.” She scrunched her face up in confusion. Something about the voice pulled at the back of her head, but she didn't recognize it.

Rolling back over onto her stomach, she pulled her arms underneath her chest and felt a sharp sting in her neck from the movement in her shoulder. Just at the base of her neck, there was something sticking out from her spine. The whole area covered in a thick layer of days old dried blood. She felt that the area around it was inflamed and warm. Possibly infected. That would explain the headache. She couldn't focus on that now, she needed to get up and face the voice on the other side of the door.

Grimmacing from the pain that raked over her whole body, Alex pushed her palms hard into the cold metal of the floor and brought her torso up. Using her back against the wall to slide her body up, she was able to stand. She felt like she was carrying 50 pounds of dead weight. Atlas, with the weight of the world on his shoulders... She dryly scoffed to herself as she made her way towards the door of the pod.

As she rested her hand on the door, she felt a nervous ball settle in the pit of her stomach. She lost her powers, her family was torn in pieces, she's a fugitive from the most dangerous intergalactic organization. It's a gang really. And now she's here, with amnesia of all things. She sighed and turned the handle.

The door seemed to swing open of its own accord, revealing a shaply dressed man, poised to almost perfection, except the worried crease in his brow. Why is he looking at me like that? She eyed him up and down, taking in his features. Perfectly pressed slacks, not a single thread out of place on his perfectly tailored jacket. Deep dark eyes, almost emotionless if it wasn't for the rest of his face and body language giving away his concern for her. Does he know me?

She studied the mans face for a moment more before her eyes drifted to the... walls? She turned around to look at the pod behind her, the glass window still showing lush greenery from outside. Turning back to look at the man in the doorway, she pulled her hand up to her face, letting it rest on her hairline.

Confused, and frankly frustrated, she says "I don't know who you are, or where I am but I can already tell you," she paused and let her hand fall back to her side as she slumped on the doorway. ""I need a doctor. And a fucking drink."

@Dark Light

Her swears and demands only brought a faint smile to his lips, any hint of concern quickly vanishing as though it never existed. With a casual yet elegant motion he firmly took her arm in his. Through gentle pressure he offered a surprising amount of support.

”Sadly, I can only guarantee you one of those things. But we will see what we can do.”

He said as he gently led her away from the door. As soon as neither were in its way, silently the solid wooden structure began to close, as if remaining open had put some invisible strain on it. Before it could come to a complete close however, Dorian’s eyes quickly scanned the internal of the pod, an intent gaze searching for something that wasn’t there.

Step by steady step they made their way to the top of the staircase from where they could see over the whole tavern.
You’re going to be ok. he whispered reassuringly to Alex without turning her way.

Addressing @everyone in the tavern, he spoke in a calm, kind voice that carried further than expected without being loud, it gently demanded attention yet held no arrogance. It was a voice you wanted to listen to. Soothing and somehow simultaneously important.

And with this entrancing smooth voice he simply asked.
“Is there by chance a medic or doctor in house tonight? One preferably not yet inebriated. This lady here could use your assistance.”

@timelord1101

She was ready for a great many things. She was ready to see the darkened corners of the vast room, the round tables littered throughout, and the flickering of fire-light casting dancing shades to the exposed rafters above. All of these things, they were memories that had been burned into her mind long ago. But the thing that she wasn’t ready for was the immense sense of familiarity that struck her. She had never before set foot in this building, and yet this setting felt intimately known so much so that the sensation of knowing this place caused her to pause.

For a time, perhaps a heartbeat or two, she stood there letting the cool night air run rampant into the nooks and crannies of the tavern’s interior. She got a few looks – unamused and displeased looks that made her finish her journey across the threshold. She figured there was time enough to marvel at the timelessness of the place once she was safely inside, but the silly girl did not step beyond the walking path that lead to the main entrance and so, as she stood there taking in the measure of it all – the door open behind her.

A swift sidestep kept her from being shoved aside and it revealed the woman’s agility – a trait she would have rather kept secret for as long as possible. But no one had eyes on her, or so she thought, and no one would care enough to deeply examine this near catastrophe of two bodies colliding.

She stood to the side and allowed her eyes to follow the path of the massive creature that had entered the tavern at her heels. Dressed in a similar style, a hooded cloak that looked to be damp to the touch, she lost interest soon enough. He headed to the bar, which was the same destination she had thought to take, but she thought better of it now. That creature alone seemed to crowd out the limited space at the bar, it was best to stay clear out of the way.

“Rum, and bring me the bottle,” she heard him bark out at the clerk behind the bar just as she turned back to examine the room.

There was ample seating it was just a matter of picking a place. Most people coveted the shadows, and she was no different, but tonight she was incognito and the lonely table by the open hearth seemed an isolated island that would keep her safe from any social interaction.

Little did she know she was being observed – and carefully so.

To the table she went, where again she stopped for a beat or two. This time her eyes were searching the surroundings, rather she was observing the fire – and listening. With her back to the entrance, her hearing was hyper-focused on the sound of the door opening and closing again. The night rushed in, but this time was perfumed by the smell of potent fule – sickly sweet – like refined alcohol. And there was something else.

Blood.
She pulled out a chair and adjusted her cloak, but never removed it. Gabriela sat down, her back still turned to the entrance, a silly oversight for someone who knew anything about protecting themselves. But she knew what she was doing. She was playing a part.

She had to appear as that which she was not – weak.

Under the table her legs crossed, one booted knee over the other, which caused her cloak to open just enough to reveal the knee-high riding boots, the skin-tight black breeches, and nothing else. She reached up and bit at the tip of her gloved middle finger and pulled until the leather sheath came free of her pale hands. And when one was free, she used her long fingers to free her other hand. Notable, to anyone who was studying the woman, would be her glass-like fingernails. There was a shine to them that was more than what a mere polish could ever produce.

A woman approached, a member of the tavern’s staff.

Gabriela was not alarmed.

“You ready to order?” asked the girl – she was neither cheerful, nor did she appear friendly, but she was efficient. There was a notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other. With sharp and cold blue eyes, the woman regarded Gabriela with an unmistakable sense of impatience.

Gabriela thought of ordering bloodwyne – and it made her smile.

That smile was astonishingly lovely. The way her pale lips pulled at the corners – the way it was so small and private as if someone had whispered a silly thing to her. It was a smile of remembrance. It was also the sort of smile meant to disarm prey -- to tempt into perdition.

But she couldn’t risk that here.

A vast majority of people did not take kindly to vampyres in their midst.

“A cup of tea,” she replied, her voice licked with the purr of an accent – Spanish if anyone was familiar.

“What kind?”

“Orange blossom,” Gabriela replied, setting her gloves on her knee.

“Lady,” the girl began with barely contained disdain, “--we don’t have orange blossom tea here.”

“Black tea,” she said, tilting her head toward the girl, lifting her chin enough so that a crease of light touched her face – Gabriela’s golden eyes fell hard on the youth. “Black tea and a slice of lemon with honey, would be lovely, thank you.”

The young woman scribbled the order and turned to flee.

Gabriela understood her discomfort.

It had been a long time since she had spent any real amount of time around humans who did not know her – who did not love her. The woman’s reaction was a natural inclination toward survival. Gabriela was a predator, and some people were simply more aware of that than others.

Just then, as she was beginning to reflect on the difficulties of traveling across this new world, a voice called across the tavern.

“Is there by chance a medic or doctor in the house tonight? One preferably not yet inebriated. This lady here could use your assistance.”

She had turned slightly, lifting her gaze to the second floor of the building, which she had apparently not noticed – somehow. She saw the outline of a couple. That’s where the smell of blood was coming from – blood and fuel. Without further regard, she turned her golden gaze back upon the fire, although she saw, from the corner of her eye, a man looking at her with interest. It made her uncomfortable. In some places, vampyres were hunted down and their blood harvested for medicinal purposes or just for recreational use. A drop of her black blood could have anyone right as rain but also high off their asses.

Best not to think about any of those possibilities.

Best not to think at all…

She sat, straight-backed and with her hands folded over her lap, and watched the fire.

"Oi I ain't a phys-" Krin growled looking around to find wherever the hell the voice had come from, though he quickly gave up as he soon realized he didn't give a damn whoever was asking for a doctor. Did he look like he cared about other peoples problems? No, he did not "Ah forget it."

He stood, reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle and poured it into a dusty old glass that looked as though it had been sitting there for an age. It tasted god awful whatever it was but at least he had something to parch his dry throat.

Riding on a large horse, a Hylian knight at night while tired and slowly wanting to fall asleep but keeps searching for a place to stop. Link realizes he does need to have something to drink soon as he is thirsty would appreciate something nice and cold. He is on a vacation after working to keep his kingdom safe of monsters and wanted to take some time to himself.

Link approaches a small village while riding upon his horse, the weather is storming, it is dark outside and hard to see. Off in the distance a blur of light appears. It appears to be a small village of a sort, at least as far as he can tell. He continues forward towards the light and arrives at a tavern. “Ahh thank goddess I am finally somewhere I can get some rest!” he says to himself though out loud at the same time. While tying his horse up, he hears a lot going on inside and sees that there is a lot going on as well through the window.

Walking up to the steps, he looks around and appreciate the view of the area and reaches for the door. Opening it and slowly walking in, he sees quite a bit of action going on and seems confused at first, and his hand slowly reaches for his shield, not his sword first, but slowly returns to a normal stance. He looks around for someone to get a drink from as he really is thirsting for a cold one right now after a day of battling monsters of keeping his kingdom safe, this wasn’t now his vacation, he had just left to immediately embark on his vacation immediately afterwards.

Spotting someone near the bar that appears to be a clerk, he walks up slow and asks “Hello excuse me, I don’t know your name, but I see you have rum, would you mind pouring me some please? I would really appreciate it, thank you.” He does think to himself is his currency would work here but waits before overthinking it.

Looking around the room for a second before awaiting a response as he scopes out what is going on in this place, he notices someone injured near the top of the staircase. As a knight one of his duties is to keep people safe and his training wants to spring to action, but he is on vacation and his duties left the door when he left Hyrule. He does however have a kind heart and hates to see people hurt, however.

Skeptical of him at first, Alex resigned herself to letting him take her down the hall. She didn't have much of a choice, did she? Alex swayed on her feet upon reaching the top of the stairs. ...fire... Static, it felt like someone was probing her head with a rake. Clutching the banister and the arm of this semi-stranger, she steadied herself. ...shadows...mud... Too many voices were starting to break through the fog. ...sadness...fool... She shook her head, trying to release the block in her brain, or to get rid of the voices, she couldn't tell anymore. "You're going to be okay." The man beside her whispered, and it sounded like he said it directly to her ear, but he barely moved as he looked over the main level of the building. Trust did not come easily to her, but for some reason Alex felt inexplicably connected to this man. Whoever he was, they had history. She felt like she could put her life in his hands. ...grope...chaos...loss...

She looked out over the floor of the tavern, almost begging for a familiar face. Any memory that would clue her in to how she got here. Or why she was here. Why had Redd chosen this place for her? Does he know Redd? ...saftey...blood... Her eyes searching every face, desperately trying to hear anything from the deep recess of their subconscious. ...damp...boot...warrior...rum... The static was thick. She could hardly tell the difference in most of their inner voices.

“Is there by chance a medic or doctor in house tonight? One preferably not yet inebriated. This lady here could use your assistance.” His voice carried a confidence that most mortal men dream of having. An almost still silence came over the room as everyone turned. Acting as if commanded by some external energy. Almost synchronous between the lot of them. ...blood...fuel... Alex narrowed her eyes and scanned the shadowy area near the hearth. Hmmm... I could have sworn... She shook it off. The awkward tension in the air was thick enough, she could almost swallow it. One by one everyone turned back to their drinks and conversations. ...vampyre...blood...black... Now she was sure. To many thoughts about blood, even through the static.

If there was a chance, she had to take it. Alex turned to the man, and nodded her head in the direction of the young woman. Sitting alone at a table by the hearth, covered by a cloak that was layered in mud. It was hanging heavily over her small frame, she looked almost unassuming, but Alex knew better.

The best approach is a direct approach. "Take me to her, please." she breathed out quietly, clenching her muscles in preparation for their descent to the main level.

@Dark Light@Pasion Pasiva