illogical_reality
The l33t One
Treiya approached the open door at a leisurely pace. Bright lights and boisterous laughter spilled forth into the darkness, disrupting the solitude of the night. Here, on the outskirts of the Ayenee Capital City, sat a rather popular tavern, fulled with various miscreants and ne'er do wells. Treiya curled her lips in disgust at the sound of so much gaiety, annoyed by the goings on of the various mortals and immortals contained within the building. These creatures seemed to thrive on their emotions. Not so Treiya.
She much preferred emotionless solitude. Expectation led to disappiontment, love turned to hate, compassion left enemies to gain revenge and empathy was for the weak of heart. Laughter turned to tears, satisfaction of body or spirit was fleeting. Emotions were the enemy, sarcasm was one's friend and ally. Trust was stupidity incarnate. Trust could get you killed.
Carefully, she hid her disgust for these creatures behind a mask of impassivity. Perhaps she wouldn't have to wait long for the ignorant girl to make her appearance. With an inward sigh, she stepped into the light. Pupils contracted and expanded in rapidfire succession, her eyes adjusting to the sharp contrast of dark and light, and then, when she was able to focus, she began to make her way toward the bar.
There was no hesitation in her step as she moved, but neither was she in any great hurry. The liquor here was second rate at best. As she moved through the crowd, she made no attempt to single out any one particular person by making eye contact. She simply ignored them all. Vampires, humans, and elves alike were too caught up in their own meanderings to really care about what one lone female would do.
Unmolested, Treiya hooked the toe of her right boot in the bottom rung of a waiting stool and slid it away from a particularly loud group of dwarves, to seat herself at the bar. The tender who walked toward her was rather slovenly dressed, a stained white apron covering the rough brown shirt that proclaimed him of the peasant class of humans. With resignition, Treiya watched him walk her way, a towel as stained as his apron apparently meant to clean the clear glass that he swirled it around in, working vigorously on the rim. Finally, coming level with her, his gruff voice barked out a question she was sure was repeated from habit, "Wot can I get ye?"
Tossing two gold coins onto the scarred counter, Treiya responded in dulcet tones, so out of place in this farce of a tavern that a few turned from their own drinks and various tables to see from whence it had come. The keep moved away to get her request and Treiya turned to regard those whose interest she had attracted. With hair the color of a raven's wing and the single strand of snow that flowed through, a mark of past trauma, emerald eyes that put such jewels to shame, rosy lips, skin the color of the finest cream and a slender yet womanly figure, Treiya knew the picture she presented. She was not, however vain, and had no time for such foolishness as beauty. Beauty was a fleeting thing that lasted only so long as age or your enemy would allow. She narrowed her eyes in thought as she regarded one particularly plump fellow who quickly lowered his eyes back to his drink. With a final glance about the room, the mood dampened by her obvious dislike for those within, she turned back as the keep set the drink before her.
"Anythin' else?"
Treiya briefly debated asking the man for the location of a certain Pendragon, but quickly dismissed that idea. The less who knew of her occupation at this point, the better. She couldn't allow rumors of a hunt to find their way back to the Pendragons. Such a misstep on her part would allow them to go into hiding, if any, indeed, surfaced in the first place. "No." The tone was not unkind, but neither did it welcome more conversation and the keep shrugged and moved down the line of the bar to help other customers. Treiya eyed the drink before her thoughtfully, and after a moment of inner debate, slowly raised the glass to her lips, sipping the murky liquid within. Definately second-rate.
She much preferred emotionless solitude. Expectation led to disappiontment, love turned to hate, compassion left enemies to gain revenge and empathy was for the weak of heart. Laughter turned to tears, satisfaction of body or spirit was fleeting. Emotions were the enemy, sarcasm was one's friend and ally. Trust was stupidity incarnate. Trust could get you killed.
Carefully, she hid her disgust for these creatures behind a mask of impassivity. Perhaps she wouldn't have to wait long for the ignorant girl to make her appearance. With an inward sigh, she stepped into the light. Pupils contracted and expanded in rapidfire succession, her eyes adjusting to the sharp contrast of dark and light, and then, when she was able to focus, she began to make her way toward the bar.
There was no hesitation in her step as she moved, but neither was she in any great hurry. The liquor here was second rate at best. As she moved through the crowd, she made no attempt to single out any one particular person by making eye contact. She simply ignored them all. Vampires, humans, and elves alike were too caught up in their own meanderings to really care about what one lone female would do.
Unmolested, Treiya hooked the toe of her right boot in the bottom rung of a waiting stool and slid it away from a particularly loud group of dwarves, to seat herself at the bar. The tender who walked toward her was rather slovenly dressed, a stained white apron covering the rough brown shirt that proclaimed him of the peasant class of humans. With resignition, Treiya watched him walk her way, a towel as stained as his apron apparently meant to clean the clear glass that he swirled it around in, working vigorously on the rim. Finally, coming level with her, his gruff voice barked out a question she was sure was repeated from habit, "Wot can I get ye?"
Tossing two gold coins onto the scarred counter, Treiya responded in dulcet tones, so out of place in this farce of a tavern that a few turned from their own drinks and various tables to see from whence it had come. The keep moved away to get her request and Treiya turned to regard those whose interest she had attracted. With hair the color of a raven's wing and the single strand of snow that flowed through, a mark of past trauma, emerald eyes that put such jewels to shame, rosy lips, skin the color of the finest cream and a slender yet womanly figure, Treiya knew the picture she presented. She was not, however vain, and had no time for such foolishness as beauty. Beauty was a fleeting thing that lasted only so long as age or your enemy would allow. She narrowed her eyes in thought as she regarded one particularly plump fellow who quickly lowered his eyes back to his drink. With a final glance about the room, the mood dampened by her obvious dislike for those within, she turned back as the keep set the drink before her.
"Anythin' else?"
Treiya briefly debated asking the man for the location of a certain Pendragon, but quickly dismissed that idea. The less who knew of her occupation at this point, the better. She couldn't allow rumors of a hunt to find their way back to the Pendragons. Such a misstep on her part would allow them to go into hiding, if any, indeed, surfaced in the first place. "No." The tone was not unkind, but neither did it welcome more conversation and the keep shrugged and moved down the line of the bar to help other customers. Treiya eyed the drink before her thoughtfully, and after a moment of inner debate, slowly raised the glass to her lips, sipping the murky liquid within. Definately second-rate.
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