ProxyInc — Roleplayer Guild

Ophelia Cayde

@Lithfangel and @Dark Cloud

” Oh kid, you gotta think I'm not as sharp minded as I was long ago but if ya think I believe in them cards?" The old man’s voice cut through caucus of the tavern around them. His words as offensive as the swill she had been served prior. 

Ophelia wasn’t new to naysayers. Though the blatant disregard easily wormed beneath her skin and chewed on her nerves. With a calm, steady hand she packed the cards tightly against one another—a sharp rapt on the table. Her eyes had narrowed into glittering slits the only not calm about her was the burning malice that wafted from her gaze. ”Oh, trust me old man. I knew you were past your prime long ago. But I didn’t realize that old age had riddled your mind so deeply, already. But maybe it’s the one too many knocks against the head, eh?” The tone in her voice matched her movements, steady and calm with an edge of fury that gave it a small bite. 

She cupped the cards in the palm of her hand, folding them toward her body before reaching up on the toe of her boots and leaning across the bar. Her free hand struck across the air between them. Opehlia's index finger hooking and pulling onto the nearest bit of loose fabric on the old man, drawing him towards her. ”You going to tell me you’re a skeptic in this tavern? Where a corpse and shade walk freely around us? Magic. Death. The strange and unusual,” she paused to cock her head to the side, eyeing the loud man while he clattered down his drink, ”are reality but afraid to trust a little in some cards?” Her lips parted in a sharp grin.

Ophelia let go and leaned back away from the bar. She had shut her eyes away from the duo, taking moment for herself before reaching back to her earlier disregarded bottle. The bridge of her nose wrinkled as her brows pinched together in thought. She plucked her cards up from the bar. Ophelia’s knuckles white with the grip she had around them. ”Ah, fuck it.” She could feel the burn of blood rushing to her cheeks, knowing full well that it had already bloomed and painted her with a deep rose color. Be it from the drinks or the anger, she couldn’t tell. She took another swig from her bottle. Nor did she particularly care at that moment. For the moment the rim left her lips she let her fingers spring open. The bottle fell to the floor in a sharp crash. Glass and wine scattered and pooled beneath her. 

”Huh,” she mused. She was a terrible drunk. Didn’t matter how much experience she had. Something always got broken. With a shrug she stepped away and closer toward the strange man, tucking her cards idly away. Someone will get that. The mess was already out of sight and mind. Ophelia let her gaze loll around before taking a half step backwards and bumping into the strange man who was still at the bar. He seemed aggravated a moment earlier, but she was too swept up on berating the old man to pay attention. She turned her head back and over her shoulder. ”Got something to add, stranger?” She let her eyes widen to their full extent, hoping to mirror his own previous intensity. Part of her was aware she was toeing a possible dangerous line but what was life without a little fun. Plus, she didn’t plan to stick around for much longer.
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