Tifferzzz
In the depths of Ayenee city, in the Northern District between Lexington and Barnes sat an establishment of the most broken nature. Brown in coloring as if it had at once been made of wood, the building now seemed as more of a ratted out parlor than anything. A circle of a sign hung out front with false hopes of being important to passer-bys. Nobody entered here and left that hadn’t previously been a occupant at one time or another. It was a place where more people entered than left, which is why in the hellious ‘downtown’ of Ayenee only drugees, otherworldly beings, and the not-faint of heart dared enter this place. It had a reputation that many had been susceptible to. Barnek’s Tavern had seen it’s share of avengers, holy men, and vampire killers, and just as easily and quickly had they entered only to be eaten alive by the place. Barnek’s wasn’t a living being. The people within made Barnek’s the way that it was, so in devestation and pain and anguish...the hate, the intolerant sat within, as if waiting for another to come in protesting…claiming to be able to ‘save’ this place. Only then would one of the patrons approach these people and teach them the true lessons of being ‘saved.’ For at the end of the night, there would be screams and pleas and cries for someone to save them, but the unfortunate state was that no one would come.
This was Barneks.
The interior of the place was worn down and ragged. The faint outlines of the ‘glory’ days were barely still evident for those that dare search. The simplicity of a bar sat to the right of the entrance, and to the left, tables and booths that had seen better days.
In the depths of the tavern, where candlelight couldn’t penetrate, and the shadows were thick enough to swallow one whole, two people sat. The only part of light that illuminated anything revealed the opposition’s hand on the table…
and a well-jeweled dagger embedded through the tendons in the top of the hand, far enough that it was pinned between the hilt and the table. The stranger didn’t know which was worse, having his hand suddenly incapacitated with the unexplainable pain of the knife, or having the hand completely crushed and pinned, thereby tearing the wound further open. One hand held fast to the weapon, but it wasn’t his, it was another’s. And she…this person…bore it down slowly, without exertion, and listened to the tendons pop, smiled in the depths of blackness as the skin peeled from the wound, and the crushing force became greater. The middle knuckle screaming it's protest before being forced to release it's position in the joint. Releasing the handle, her fingertips entwined on the table’s surface as blood pooled down and around the victim's hand, eventually dripping to the floor in it’s own puddle.
"I don’t know!?!" The wounded cried to the onlooker. The lie then initiated another painful example of what traitorous actions and deception would bring. Her hands reached out slowly, and methodically, to the one pinned to the table and grasped the pinky finger. A quick pull and the distinct sound of ripping could be heard. He screamed, the boy did. A boy of no more than twelve years. She placed the finger neatly aside the hand and reached for the next.
"No please…please…" He cried. Didn’t he know that she didn’t care for crying? Taking hold of the finger she leaned forward, still keeping her face in the shadows. "Where"
"302 Johnson Street. Th...Thursday…" His re-rimmed eyes poured full tears. She held fast to the finger and began to pull. "I told you!" He cried pathetically. So there it was. The truth wrapped in a painful amount of lies. And how wonderful was she that she had found the truth! Later she would praise herself, for now she didn’t want him in her presence anymore. He wasn’t worthy to be here, sitting with her. Releasing the finger she took hold of the wrist and in one motion he was ripped free, but the dagger hadn’t moved from the table. She’d torn it through his hand severing the space between his second and third finger almost to the wrist. Among his cries and screams of pain and pooling of blood…among the panic and fear that he emitted like a foul stench, she told him in a very calm, serene voice. "Leave." It was as simple as if she was scolding a puppy.
Could his steps have been faster to get away from her? Not fast enough. As his back turned, passing one booth, then the next to get to the door, she unbound her dagger and grasping the blade flung it at the child’s spine. She didn’t aim for a lung, or anything as grotesque, but for the exact point of where his heart beat.
The sound of him hitting the floor had been music to her ears. Where there had been screams, there was now the silence. The forgiving silence that she loved. The deed was done, the message received, and with that she turned to the tender and ordered something with an alcoholic twinge to it. Though, in truth, alcohol never affected her…it just tasted sweet…like the child’s death
Colvin
How much silence could there really be within a tavern that sported this city's more eccentric inhabitants? The grimy manacles of Barnek's tavern were indeed rather manipulative when it came to its visitors and few who did not hold parallel thoughts to its patrons would escape alive. It was an accepted fact that many prided themselves over and only made this place even more special to its frequent visitors. The noise that emanated from the bowels of this establishment were many. Euphonious screams of agony and pleasurable sounds of flesh being torn away by unsuspecting victims....it was all so comfortable for this man who situated himself at a table within the multitude. He was no habitual visitor yet he seemed to fit in perfectly with the feverish crowd as he looked anything but normal.
Traditional black with silver lining coupled with several insignias and emblems made him seem like some important being somewhere but that meant little in a place such as this. The cloak he wore was adorned with several symbols that seemed to glow ominously on their own. The heel of his boot had been rammed on to the tabletop as he simply relaxed, ignoring most of his surroundings out of his own arrogance. His power output seemed minimal, his general aura seemingly reduced to one that a pitiful whelp would decorate himself with. Needless to say, he did not look that threatening to everyone but it was that realization combined with the audacity to come here that caused a few very observant people to wonder exactly what he was here for. A waitress had come on by, clad in revealing clothing as was the custom. After all, tips were abundant if she had males slobbering all over her curvaceous frame now weren't they? An order was given, relayed to the tender, and brought to him quickly.
What a pitiful morsel this female was. Had he the desire to deliver her from herself she would have been decimated on the spot, but his grace had been implicated by his own dormant vices. A hand found her waist and her thigh....and suggested things that were not seen by those around him. A giggle erupted but the expression upon his face was as serious as ever. The hand was placed back on to the table by the woman and she walked away...perhaps with the prospect of something more from this new patron or just a flattering event. What had been exchanged would not be brought to light at this time. Burning liquid seared down his throat as he shifted his head only to see a woman toying with some defenseless child. The attacked hand, the screams of the boy, and the calm demeanor of the woman were taken in, but all he really seemed to be doing was measuring the woman's physical appearance. This man seemed to hold a certain affinity for the supposedly weaker gender, but why?
Even the most minute detail of her body that he could obtain was taken in, and out of boredom he continued to stare specifically at accentuated areas while the situation before him unfolded. The child never made it out but he never expected her to let her victim go anyway. He had become mildly intrigued in this woman though a few minutes of observation were probably not enough to appreciate her at all. A small blade twirled idly in his hands and he continued to stare at her body, losing himself in several thoughts that almost broke the serious expression he had on his face. This woman had become his random form of entertainment for the time being. She was beautiful...on a level not many truly appreciated. He had been drawn in easily...but he was simply here to relax. No reason to meddle into her business at all right?
Tifferzzz
The astrigent liquid that had stained the tabletop had managed to touch her fingers, and in disgust she wiped them on the waitress as she passed. Filty. That's the only description she could provide when it came to killing. If there was a cleaner way to do it, then she would have adopted it, but sometimes she just had to accept the consequences and move on.
It wasn't until the drink was placed on the table that she extended her hand to even attempt to capture the cup. Liquid movements like blood flowing over a decapitated corpse could explain her motions. Digits curled about the cup but she did not move it from it's imprisonment. There. A feeling. A knowing that someone was watching. Every movement stilled completely and she tested by merely remaining motionless, but the gaze did not waiver. And now, she had a direction.
In the depths of the shadows, a voice would emerge directed at this person...this lesser being...that would attune his attention to her for such an extended period of time. A firm, dark warning emmited from the lips in the form of, "Look much longer and I'll be forced to remove that ability for you." Though her side was to him, her eyes remained forward until she had stilled her threat. With a snap of her attention to the being, to the irritation in her presence, she stared upon him in the feral view...emerald occulars that glowed in the absence of light. The clothing she had would conceal the majority of her form due to the thickness of the ebon cloak cast about her shoulders, but it did fall in spots that would foretell of the curvature beneath it, but not many had survived long enough to even admire such a thing. This seemed to be the next one in line.
Colvin
Her comical response to his attention toward her almost made him laugh, but he remained exactly where he was. The cloak she wore did nothing to prevent him from staring at her form and her words only made his focus that much more blatant on the curves that were noticeable. He was finished with his drink and that fact made the waitress pass by him, the blood wiped along her makeshift apron examined. The fact his hand had snapped over to it made the woman cringe slightly but she was used to such forward actions already. Someone who worked in Barnek's Tavern was prone to accept all kinds of things. The blood provided enough of a distraction to pull his eyes away from her form, but as he sent the waitress off to get him more drinks, those eyes focused on her form. As she turned her head to look at him, he arched a brow while receiving his new drink. The drink was lifted and his eyes never left her form. Taking into account her words would mean that he actually believed she was capable of carrying out her threat. Was it his own confidence or blatant arrogance that made him fixate that gaze upon her form yet again?
His unrelenting persistance kicked in as hazel orbs glazed over her form yet again. One would have to imagine that after watching what she did to the small boy, her threats needed to be taken a bit more seriously. This man, however, could care less...even if that dagger was pointed directly at his beating heart. What he was or was capable of remained shrouded in mystery, his inclination toward being as enigmatic as possible governing most of what he did right now. The only known fact was his appreciation for beauty which translated into this blatant admiration of curves and elegance. Idle sips were taken of his liquid and he simply waited to see how she would react, quickly making a game out of it all. The sounds of the others around him were now tuned out as he made sure to watch her every move. He hoped she didn't ruin his view by simply leaving....that would be most unfair.
Tifferzzz
She hadn't any intention of leaving. Her main objective had been completed, and just in the manner that she had expected it to. The only attention she'd pay to the deceased was to claim the weapon that had brought his untimely death. The drink that she would have been provided was vodka, but she wasn't foolish enough to drink from a glass that others had. No. That idea in itself would have made her stomach wretch. She had prepared this moment and supplied her own small glass, and therefore transfered the liquid. Bobbing in the clearness was an olive that had been spiked through with a wooden pick. Allowing the light to grace her face, she returned her attention, for the moment, to the drink. Not to the liquid, but to the circular food that lay drowning in the drink. Removing the olive by lifting the pick, the idea had been plainly stated. The idea of impalement. What would be more glorious than to see someone writhing on the floor due to being stuck...? Capturing the olive between her teeth and sliding it from the semi-sharp object, she smiled with the most devilous of intensions before chewing, then swallowing. And just as she had, the right fingers of her hand...the ones that held the object....suddenly flicked the item towards the observer. She meant what she said. The force was with full intention, unwarned, and quickly heading for his left eye. Circling her hand around the glass, she waited to hear the connection...the sound of an eyeball being sliced through...the delightful squishy sound that would be followed by a silence and then a scream. A welcoming scream. She'd wait for this before she would drink. A celebratory drink it would be. What could be better?
Colvin
The celebration she intended to enjoy would simply have to wait. Moments of pleasure such as those needed to be earned with far more effort than she had just given right now. He had watched every single movement she executed, taking moments to look at the aesthetic features of her face...the work of art that was fitting for such beauty. Yet, it did nothing to prevent him from stopping the tiny projectile that had been shot toward him. He was slightly offended to think that she thought him someone as petty as the small child that she had just killed. The toothpick never found his eye and in fact never found the floor either. The tiny object simply rested in his palm now. It didn't look like he had moved an inch or did some massive manifestation of power occur. How it had gotten to where it was....was a secret. He gulped the rest of his drink down which had been a mixture of several juices and alcohol. No reason to down hard liquor just yet...he had nothing to celebrate.
His boot hit the floor with force and he stood up to begin walking toward the woman. Once he halved the distance between them, he flicked the toothpick her way but not with any intended target on her body. It would eventually hit her somewhere...preferably somewhere open where her flesh was exposed. "Try something less direct next time. Might have a bit more success." With that, he'd backtrack back to his seat and call the waitress over for another drink...simply to start staring yet again. His voice was dulcet for the most part but his attitude probably would have sparked some sort of anger in the woman if she was someone simplistic and typical. Was she any of the two? He continued staring....enjoying her attire and noticeable features. Nothing like a good view for these moments of leisure.
Tifferzzz
Lydia's attire was something less than 'female' style. She didn't galavant around in the un-modest with her cleavage sprouted to the world, nor painted into spandex, leather, or anything else of uncomfort. It wasn't that she think herself rightly for such attire, but it was disgraceful to one to use such means instead of actual skills. She believed in using one's own abilities instead of looks and sex-appeal to attain what one wanted. The issue at hand, was this observer seemed intent to look upon her as if she were a portrait painted by some unamed artist. He would watch her, then approach her, flicking back the weapon to it's rightful owner. The returned object would fall on the area of her bosom, but it wouldn't bounce off of flesh, but off of fabric. The ebon shirt would create the barrier that would keep his eyes from the flesh of her body, as much as she could potentially conceal with men's dark leggins and a shirt that resembled something that the opposite sex would wear. The clothing somehow fit her form to perfection although to others, it might not have been so.
How long he lingered and gazed upon her merely brought her to two conclusions. Either he was one of those hormone-driven idiots that sought to take what they wished because they thought they deserved it, or option two...he was doing it to annoy her. Lydia's annoyance would merely remain concealed. She would listen to his words, but not look to him as he approached nor retreated. She would circle the rim of her glass lightly with a digit in empty thought. With a soft smile falling to her lips, as if she were in amusement with something she'd thought internally, she then lifted the glass and took one small, but perfect sip. Placing it down she at first decided not to attend to the man. The slaughter of a child was enough, at the moment to satisfy her. Did she wish a battle of wits? That would remain to be seen. If he would have thought her angry about his actions, then he would have thought her wrong. That would have meant that he deserved to have more attention provided to him...enough to ellicit a mental response of dislike towards this person. He hadn't earned that right. She would sit and ignore the eyes that molested her figure. It didn't unnerve her, upset her...but partially annoyed her. Another smile would touch her lips before the drink concealed it once more...and with the cup raised, the tongue slid over the rim of the glass to capture any remaining liquid that might have been left there. 302 Johnson Street...Thursday. That was the pertinent information that had caused the child's death, and that was the valuable asset that she'd keep lodged and hidden until Thursday fell and she went to do...what it is she does so well...kill. At that thought and even more pleasing smile drifted from her lips to touch her eyes. There were very little things that could bring any sort of happiness to her entire face. Fortunately killing just happened to be one of them.
Colvin
To be driven by some hormone-induced frenzy sparked by her form would give her much more credit than she deserved. Could it be possible that he simply stared because he could? It was not his problem if his gaze caused her any discomfort nor if it angered her to have a man so focused on her body. What motivated him to continue this searing gaze her way? Nothing. Even if she had worn typical female attire around these parts, it would not have been the accentuated curves that would have drawn him to her. He was mildly interested in Lydia if that was what you could call it and he stared at her simply because he saw no better focal point within this establishment to drown himself in thought. In truth, he was meditating on other thoughts.....other more sinister thoughts of future prospects and events that could transpire. He was just...relaxing. The odd mixture of liquors and juices found his mouth again and he allowed the liquid to invade, his relentless gaze still frozen on her form.
Now his general indifference to the affects of what he was doing on her did not mean that he would not enjoy some physical retaliation on her behalf. Perhaps if she knew exactly what he was thinking about now she would have struck him down or perhaps even doubled over in laughter through her own confidence. He could see her pride exuding off of her form though decimating some poor little boy was hardly a morsel worth recognition. She had not been the only one that had heard the specific address and day that had been uttered by the child, but what he intended on doing with that information was left to this meditation of his. He picked out several scenarios from his head, and dwelled on one specific one that was enthralling. It fell under all the typical psychotic categories which would make its realization that much more offensive. He felt himself shiver lightly, a most sardonic smirk falling upon his face while his eyes never left Lydia's face or what he could see of it from where he was. The fact she had even tried to carry out her threat only made him realize tha the had some sort of effect on her. Whatever it was didn't matter as he would still fixate himself upon her form and enjoy the plethora of possibilities that cycled through his mind.
Tifferzzz
The decaying corpse had a sudden overwhelming stench to it. Enough so that it caused enough of a scented disturbance that the tender lifted the kid's shoes and began to pull his body outside. Though the sweetness of victory in death and messages gave her heightened pleasures...the idea of loosing her valuable, did not. She was quick to stand, to shrug the cloak about her shoulders approaching the tender who merely grunted at her. he was smart enough to still, though still holding the legs. With a hand curled around the dagger, she withdrew it from the bloodied sinew and muscle. The emerald orbs lifted to the tender as she stoood. "Mine." She spoke specifically and matter of factly. The only thing that disgusted her abouyt this incident was the crimson that had remained on the carved weapon. A pause of thought trickled through her mind. This stranger..this man was having a mild amount of amusement at her expense, perhaps she would enjoy herself as well...or at least for the time being. Her step would remain surefooted. yet insterad of returning to her table she would near his. With bloodied blade dripping to the floor she moved towards him. Now his response at this moment would be most impairitive. Perhaps that's what she was searching for. A reaction. Should he refuse to respond, then she'd continue with her intended purpose and merely ask with the most sultry darkness curling over her...
"Have you anything to clean this up with?"
In the depths of Ayenee city, in the Northern District between Lexington and Barnes sat an establishment of the most broken nature. Brown in coloring as if it had at once been made of wood, the building now seemed as more of a ratted out parlor than anything. A circle of a sign hung out front with false hopes of being important to passer-bys. Nobody entered here and left that hadn’t previously been a occupant at one time or another. It was a place where more people entered than left, which is why in the hellious ‘downtown’ of Ayenee only drugees, otherworldly beings, and the not-faint of heart dared enter this place. It had a reputation that many had been susceptible to. Barnek’s Tavern had seen it’s share of avengers, holy men, and vampire killers, and just as easily and quickly had they entered only to be eaten alive by the place. Barnek’s wasn’t a living being. The people within made Barnek’s the way that it was, so in devestation and pain and anguish...the hate, the intolerant sat within, as if waiting for another to come in protesting…claiming to be able to ‘save’ this place. Only then would one of the patrons approach these people and teach them the true lessons of being ‘saved.’ For at the end of the night, there would be screams and pleas and cries for someone to save them, but the unfortunate state was that no one would come.
This was Barneks.
The interior of the place was worn down and ragged. The faint outlines of the ‘glory’ days were barely still evident for those that dare search. The simplicity of a bar sat to the right of the entrance, and to the left, tables and booths that had seen better days.
In the depths of the tavern, where candlelight couldn’t penetrate, and the shadows were thick enough to swallow one whole, two people sat. The only part of light that illuminated anything revealed the opposition’s hand on the table…
and a well-jeweled dagger embedded through the tendons in the top of the hand, far enough that it was pinned between the hilt and the table. The stranger didn’t know which was worse, having his hand suddenly incapacitated with the unexplainable pain of the knife, or having the hand completely crushed and pinned, thereby tearing the wound further open. One hand held fast to the weapon, but it wasn’t his, it was another’s. And she…this person…bore it down slowly, without exertion, and listened to the tendons pop, smiled in the depths of blackness as the skin peeled from the wound, and the crushing force became greater. The middle knuckle screaming it's protest before being forced to release it's position in the joint. Releasing the handle, her fingertips entwined on the table’s surface as blood pooled down and around the victim's hand, eventually dripping to the floor in it’s own puddle.
"I don’t know!?!" The wounded cried to the onlooker. The lie then initiated another painful example of what traitorous actions and deception would bring. Her hands reached out slowly, and methodically, to the one pinned to the table and grasped the pinky finger. A quick pull and the distinct sound of ripping could be heard. He screamed, the boy did. A boy of no more than twelve years. She placed the finger neatly aside the hand and reached for the next.
"No please…please…" He cried. Didn’t he know that she didn’t care for crying? Taking hold of the finger she leaned forward, still keeping her face in the shadows. "Where"
"302 Johnson Street. Th...Thursday…" His re-rimmed eyes poured full tears. She held fast to the finger and began to pull. "I told you!" He cried pathetically. So there it was. The truth wrapped in a painful amount of lies. And how wonderful was she that she had found the truth! Later she would praise herself, for now she didn’t want him in her presence anymore. He wasn’t worthy to be here, sitting with her. Releasing the finger she took hold of the wrist and in one motion he was ripped free, but the dagger hadn’t moved from the table. She’d torn it through his hand severing the space between his second and third finger almost to the wrist. Among his cries and screams of pain and pooling of blood…among the panic and fear that he emitted like a foul stench, she told him in a very calm, serene voice. "Leave." It was as simple as if she was scolding a puppy.
Could his steps have been faster to get away from her? Not fast enough. As his back turned, passing one booth, then the next to get to the door, she unbound her dagger and grasping the blade flung it at the child’s spine. She didn’t aim for a lung, or anything as grotesque, but for the exact point of where his heart beat.
The sound of him hitting the floor had been music to her ears. Where there had been screams, there was now the silence. The forgiving silence that she loved. The deed was done, the message received, and with that she turned to the tender and ordered something with an alcoholic twinge to it. Though, in truth, alcohol never affected her…it just tasted sweet…like the child’s death
Colvin
How much silence could there really be within a tavern that sported this city's more eccentric inhabitants? The grimy manacles of Barnek's tavern were indeed rather manipulative when it came to its visitors and few who did not hold parallel thoughts to its patrons would escape alive. It was an accepted fact that many prided themselves over and only made this place even more special to its frequent visitors. The noise that emanated from the bowels of this establishment were many. Euphonious screams of agony and pleasurable sounds of flesh being torn away by unsuspecting victims....it was all so comfortable for this man who situated himself at a table within the multitude. He was no habitual visitor yet he seemed to fit in perfectly with the feverish crowd as he looked anything but normal.
Traditional black with silver lining coupled with several insignias and emblems made him seem like some important being somewhere but that meant little in a place such as this. The cloak he wore was adorned with several symbols that seemed to glow ominously on their own. The heel of his boot had been rammed on to the tabletop as he simply relaxed, ignoring most of his surroundings out of his own arrogance. His power output seemed minimal, his general aura seemingly reduced to one that a pitiful whelp would decorate himself with. Needless to say, he did not look that threatening to everyone but it was that realization combined with the audacity to come here that caused a few very observant people to wonder exactly what he was here for. A waitress had come on by, clad in revealing clothing as was the custom. After all, tips were abundant if she had males slobbering all over her curvaceous frame now weren't they? An order was given, relayed to the tender, and brought to him quickly.
What a pitiful morsel this female was. Had he the desire to deliver her from herself she would have been decimated on the spot, but his grace had been implicated by his own dormant vices. A hand found her waist and her thigh....and suggested things that were not seen by those around him. A giggle erupted but the expression upon his face was as serious as ever. The hand was placed back on to the table by the woman and she walked away...perhaps with the prospect of something more from this new patron or just a flattering event. What had been exchanged would not be brought to light at this time. Burning liquid seared down his throat as he shifted his head only to see a woman toying with some defenseless child. The attacked hand, the screams of the boy, and the calm demeanor of the woman were taken in, but all he really seemed to be doing was measuring the woman's physical appearance. This man seemed to hold a certain affinity for the supposedly weaker gender, but why?
Even the most minute detail of her body that he could obtain was taken in, and out of boredom he continued to stare specifically at accentuated areas while the situation before him unfolded. The child never made it out but he never expected her to let her victim go anyway. He had become mildly intrigued in this woman though a few minutes of observation were probably not enough to appreciate her at all. A small blade twirled idly in his hands and he continued to stare at her body, losing himself in several thoughts that almost broke the serious expression he had on his face. This woman had become his random form of entertainment for the time being. She was beautiful...on a level not many truly appreciated. He had been drawn in easily...but he was simply here to relax. No reason to meddle into her business at all right?
Tifferzzz
The astrigent liquid that had stained the tabletop had managed to touch her fingers, and in disgust she wiped them on the waitress as she passed. Filty. That's the only description she could provide when it came to killing. If there was a cleaner way to do it, then she would have adopted it, but sometimes she just had to accept the consequences and move on.
It wasn't until the drink was placed on the table that she extended her hand to even attempt to capture the cup. Liquid movements like blood flowing over a decapitated corpse could explain her motions. Digits curled about the cup but she did not move it from it's imprisonment. There. A feeling. A knowing that someone was watching. Every movement stilled completely and she tested by merely remaining motionless, but the gaze did not waiver. And now, she had a direction.
In the depths of the shadows, a voice would emerge directed at this person...this lesser being...that would attune his attention to her for such an extended period of time. A firm, dark warning emmited from the lips in the form of, "Look much longer and I'll be forced to remove that ability for you." Though her side was to him, her eyes remained forward until she had stilled her threat. With a snap of her attention to the being, to the irritation in her presence, she stared upon him in the feral view...emerald occulars that glowed in the absence of light. The clothing she had would conceal the majority of her form due to the thickness of the ebon cloak cast about her shoulders, but it did fall in spots that would foretell of the curvature beneath it, but not many had survived long enough to even admire such a thing. This seemed to be the next one in line.
Colvin
Her comical response to his attention toward her almost made him laugh, but he remained exactly where he was. The cloak she wore did nothing to prevent him from staring at her form and her words only made his focus that much more blatant on the curves that were noticeable. He was finished with his drink and that fact made the waitress pass by him, the blood wiped along her makeshift apron examined. The fact his hand had snapped over to it made the woman cringe slightly but she was used to such forward actions already. Someone who worked in Barnek's Tavern was prone to accept all kinds of things. The blood provided enough of a distraction to pull his eyes away from her form, but as he sent the waitress off to get him more drinks, those eyes focused on her form. As she turned her head to look at him, he arched a brow while receiving his new drink. The drink was lifted and his eyes never left her form. Taking into account her words would mean that he actually believed she was capable of carrying out her threat. Was it his own confidence or blatant arrogance that made him fixate that gaze upon her form yet again?
His unrelenting persistance kicked in as hazel orbs glazed over her form yet again. One would have to imagine that after watching what she did to the small boy, her threats needed to be taken a bit more seriously. This man, however, could care less...even if that dagger was pointed directly at his beating heart. What he was or was capable of remained shrouded in mystery, his inclination toward being as enigmatic as possible governing most of what he did right now. The only known fact was his appreciation for beauty which translated into this blatant admiration of curves and elegance. Idle sips were taken of his liquid and he simply waited to see how she would react, quickly making a game out of it all. The sounds of the others around him were now tuned out as he made sure to watch her every move. He hoped she didn't ruin his view by simply leaving....that would be most unfair.
Tifferzzz
She hadn't any intention of leaving. Her main objective had been completed, and just in the manner that she had expected it to. The only attention she'd pay to the deceased was to claim the weapon that had brought his untimely death. The drink that she would have been provided was vodka, but she wasn't foolish enough to drink from a glass that others had. No. That idea in itself would have made her stomach wretch. She had prepared this moment and supplied her own small glass, and therefore transfered the liquid. Bobbing in the clearness was an olive that had been spiked through with a wooden pick. Allowing the light to grace her face, she returned her attention, for the moment, to the drink. Not to the liquid, but to the circular food that lay drowning in the drink. Removing the olive by lifting the pick, the idea had been plainly stated. The idea of impalement. What would be more glorious than to see someone writhing on the floor due to being stuck...? Capturing the olive between her teeth and sliding it from the semi-sharp object, she smiled with the most devilous of intensions before chewing, then swallowing. And just as she had, the right fingers of her hand...the ones that held the object....suddenly flicked the item towards the observer. She meant what she said. The force was with full intention, unwarned, and quickly heading for his left eye. Circling her hand around the glass, she waited to hear the connection...the sound of an eyeball being sliced through...the delightful squishy sound that would be followed by a silence and then a scream. A welcoming scream. She'd wait for this before she would drink. A celebratory drink it would be. What could be better?
Colvin
The celebration she intended to enjoy would simply have to wait. Moments of pleasure such as those needed to be earned with far more effort than she had just given right now. He had watched every single movement she executed, taking moments to look at the aesthetic features of her face...the work of art that was fitting for such beauty. Yet, it did nothing to prevent him from stopping the tiny projectile that had been shot toward him. He was slightly offended to think that she thought him someone as petty as the small child that she had just killed. The toothpick never found his eye and in fact never found the floor either. The tiny object simply rested in his palm now. It didn't look like he had moved an inch or did some massive manifestation of power occur. How it had gotten to where it was....was a secret. He gulped the rest of his drink down which had been a mixture of several juices and alcohol. No reason to down hard liquor just yet...he had nothing to celebrate.
His boot hit the floor with force and he stood up to begin walking toward the woman. Once he halved the distance between them, he flicked the toothpick her way but not with any intended target on her body. It would eventually hit her somewhere...preferably somewhere open where her flesh was exposed. "Try something less direct next time. Might have a bit more success." With that, he'd backtrack back to his seat and call the waitress over for another drink...simply to start staring yet again. His voice was dulcet for the most part but his attitude probably would have sparked some sort of anger in the woman if she was someone simplistic and typical. Was she any of the two? He continued staring....enjoying her attire and noticeable features. Nothing like a good view for these moments of leisure.
Tifferzzz
Lydia's attire was something less than 'female' style. She didn't galavant around in the un-modest with her cleavage sprouted to the world, nor painted into spandex, leather, or anything else of uncomfort. It wasn't that she think herself rightly for such attire, but it was disgraceful to one to use such means instead of actual skills. She believed in using one's own abilities instead of looks and sex-appeal to attain what one wanted. The issue at hand, was this observer seemed intent to look upon her as if she were a portrait painted by some unamed artist. He would watch her, then approach her, flicking back the weapon to it's rightful owner. The returned object would fall on the area of her bosom, but it wouldn't bounce off of flesh, but off of fabric. The ebon shirt would create the barrier that would keep his eyes from the flesh of her body, as much as she could potentially conceal with men's dark leggins and a shirt that resembled something that the opposite sex would wear. The clothing somehow fit her form to perfection although to others, it might not have been so.
How long he lingered and gazed upon her merely brought her to two conclusions. Either he was one of those hormone-driven idiots that sought to take what they wished because they thought they deserved it, or option two...he was doing it to annoy her. Lydia's annoyance would merely remain concealed. She would listen to his words, but not look to him as he approached nor retreated. She would circle the rim of her glass lightly with a digit in empty thought. With a soft smile falling to her lips, as if she were in amusement with something she'd thought internally, she then lifted the glass and took one small, but perfect sip. Placing it down she at first decided not to attend to the man. The slaughter of a child was enough, at the moment to satisfy her. Did she wish a battle of wits? That would remain to be seen. If he would have thought her angry about his actions, then he would have thought her wrong. That would have meant that he deserved to have more attention provided to him...enough to ellicit a mental response of dislike towards this person. He hadn't earned that right. She would sit and ignore the eyes that molested her figure. It didn't unnerve her, upset her...but partially annoyed her. Another smile would touch her lips before the drink concealed it once more...and with the cup raised, the tongue slid over the rim of the glass to capture any remaining liquid that might have been left there. 302 Johnson Street...Thursday. That was the pertinent information that had caused the child's death, and that was the valuable asset that she'd keep lodged and hidden until Thursday fell and she went to do...what it is she does so well...kill. At that thought and even more pleasing smile drifted from her lips to touch her eyes. There were very little things that could bring any sort of happiness to her entire face. Fortunately killing just happened to be one of them.
Colvin
To be driven by some hormone-induced frenzy sparked by her form would give her much more credit than she deserved. Could it be possible that he simply stared because he could? It was not his problem if his gaze caused her any discomfort nor if it angered her to have a man so focused on her body. What motivated him to continue this searing gaze her way? Nothing. Even if she had worn typical female attire around these parts, it would not have been the accentuated curves that would have drawn him to her. He was mildly interested in Lydia if that was what you could call it and he stared at her simply because he saw no better focal point within this establishment to drown himself in thought. In truth, he was meditating on other thoughts.....other more sinister thoughts of future prospects and events that could transpire. He was just...relaxing. The odd mixture of liquors and juices found his mouth again and he allowed the liquid to invade, his relentless gaze still frozen on her form.
Now his general indifference to the affects of what he was doing on her did not mean that he would not enjoy some physical retaliation on her behalf. Perhaps if she knew exactly what he was thinking about now she would have struck him down or perhaps even doubled over in laughter through her own confidence. He could see her pride exuding off of her form though decimating some poor little boy was hardly a morsel worth recognition. She had not been the only one that had heard the specific address and day that had been uttered by the child, but what he intended on doing with that information was left to this meditation of his. He picked out several scenarios from his head, and dwelled on one specific one that was enthralling. It fell under all the typical psychotic categories which would make its realization that much more offensive. He felt himself shiver lightly, a most sardonic smirk falling upon his face while his eyes never left Lydia's face or what he could see of it from where he was. The fact she had even tried to carry out her threat only made him realize tha the had some sort of effect on her. Whatever it was didn't matter as he would still fixate himself upon her form and enjoy the plethora of possibilities that cycled through his mind.
Tifferzzz
The decaying corpse had a sudden overwhelming stench to it. Enough so that it caused enough of a scented disturbance that the tender lifted the kid's shoes and began to pull his body outside. Though the sweetness of victory in death and messages gave her heightened pleasures...the idea of loosing her valuable, did not. She was quick to stand, to shrug the cloak about her shoulders approaching the tender who merely grunted at her. he was smart enough to still, though still holding the legs. With a hand curled around the dagger, she withdrew it from the bloodied sinew and muscle. The emerald orbs lifted to the tender as she stoood. "Mine." She spoke specifically and matter of factly. The only thing that disgusted her abouyt this incident was the crimson that had remained on the carved weapon. A pause of thought trickled through her mind. This stranger..this man was having a mild amount of amusement at her expense, perhaps she would enjoy herself as well...or at least for the time being. Her step would remain surefooted. yet insterad of returning to her table she would near his. With bloodied blade dripping to the floor she moved towards him. Now his response at this moment would be most impairitive. Perhaps that's what she was searching for. A reaction. Should he refuse to respond, then she'd continue with her intended purpose and merely ask with the most sultry darkness curling over her...
"Have you anything to clean this up with?"