::he takes the coins and places them in the strongbox and begins to wipe up the spilled wine bottle. calling up:: you could at least get rid of the body for me sir concidering he is your kill.

Suddenly the sound of thunder seems distant, somehow muffled, the light flicker and dim; even the humdrum of conversation dies out. Scenes seems to stretch and twist, strangely detached, as if experiencing life through the bottom of a beerglass; and a loud rapping echoes against the heavy wood of the door before it inches, then swings open. As it does, the thunder becomes slightly clearer, and a gust of wind whirls around the room, charged with power from the storm. In the door frame, a tiny form garbed entirely of black rags seems to hesitate briefly, before hobbeling in. Her hair is ashen blond, falling in meshes around skeletal features as pale as snow. Approaching the bar, she clambers silently onto a stool and waits to be served. Her mouth, full but grey, stretches into an unhappy smile as she turns to look at the room over her shoulder. And, as they see her eyes, existence seems to fall into focus, as if it had been blurred all their lives. The chyld seems somehow more real, more There. Her eyes are pale, rime cold, and blue; rimmed in an angry crown of crimson... they radiate a detached contempt; as if everything that you were, you had ever been, reflected in theses icy depths.

::He turns with a smile:: what can i get ye my lady?

Slowly, so slowly that time seems to wait for her to catch up, she turns to look back at the barkeeper. She reaches a pale hand, ill covered by some half fingered gloves, into her garbs to withdraw a heavy, dark coin. With a smile, she flips it onto the bar and it lands with a rich thunk, the laughter of gold on wood... The coin in blank but, on closer inspection, it gives the crawling impression that many, many things must be written beneath the surface. Watching it roll on the wood until it stops, she looks up into the barkeeper's eyes and seems mouthes the words before they come, cold and aloof; "Brandy, a flask... keep it coming." despite it's distant nature, her words carry an immense grief, and it beggins to rain...

::He chuckles the hint of maddness returning to his lips for a brief instant:: as you wish my lady ::he grabs the bottle and fills a flask for her with the brandy and hands it to her taking the coin and putting it away:: Enjoy the drink.

*not getting an answer I move yet again towards the bar and seat myself setting the 1/2 fifth of brandy I aquired earlier that morning on the wooden surface*

Interesing crowd you have here.

*looks around at everyone else in the bar, flipping my eyes around quickly enough to take in the entire scene and shake my head*

I'm going to need another night in the room sir, I also need a change of clothes. . . so I'll be out in a few hours

*reaches into a pocket almost at my feet and places a few coins on the bar, nods and paces slowly up the staircase and into the dimly lit room*

::He takes the coin and tucks it away as with the others and goes back to wiping his glasses to a somewhat clean nature:: ...May you survive to see the morrow...

::Seeing that no one had yet to take out the corpse he placed the glass down and hefted the corpse of the man over his shoulder. He pushes the door open with his back and tosses the body out onto the street and goes back to wiping his glasses muttering to himself::

*inside the room upstairs I set and stare out the window at the rain*

a lovely day. . .

*moves to throw on a chain mail shirt and over it a normal black garment to hide it. . .then pulls the cloak from the wall and ties it on sitting back down to stare of lost in thought*

Every time it rains. . . the memories return. . .

The past is a swamp and the future is like walking on thin glass. . .

*laughs insanely as a strike of thunder hits and rocks the tavern*

::he looks as his bottles rattle momentarily and chuckles:: One day im going to have to find a way to brace these things...

*takes a deep breath from the laugh and straps the broadsword on my back*

It's going to be a long day

*after seeeming like an hour or 2 has passed I return to the bar and continue to sip from the fifth of brandy*

*The door to the tavern swings open slowly, as a man is suddenly portrayed by a small sum of light coming down from the nearly blotted out sun. He carries a simple item, a scabbard that contains a nice sword made from a type of crystal, in the palm of his right hand, while he glances this way and that, making sure that no one present is within striking distance. This is followed by his walking into the tavern and sitting down at a table, his free hand reaching into the folds of his black cloak.*

::He looks up from wiping his glasses:: what can I get you sir.

*when Jade has returned, she walks up to him, returning the crude map that she had of his*

Sir, i believe this is yours. *smiles gently as she hands it to him*

::he grumbles returning to cleaning his glass::

Cold. Twisting the flask against the bar, between her hands, she watches frost gather around it, covering its edges in a crystalline crown. As lightning flashes outside, it's bright light reflected in the ice, she smiles slightly. And a powerful wave of nostalgia washes over the room... Twisting around, she seems to search the wall briefly, before reaching a hand into her rags once more to withdraw a tarnished pocketwatch on the end of a long chain. The metal looks like it must have been well cared for once, but now it is dark and twisted, corroded; seemingly tainted by her presence. She holds it up to her eye level and seems to consider it intently for a while, those closer note that the face seems to hold thirteen numbers instead of twelve, the hands are cruelly sharp (time is a mean opponent). With an inaudible sigh, she pockets the watch once more and returns her attention to the flask. Laying her hands on the table, she seems to focus on it, seeing it for the first time, perhaps. And slowly, almost langorously, it rises in the air with a trail of displaced snow until it his slightly above her eye level, and begins to spin once more... Cold, the flask seems to shine.

::he smiles watching the woman with the flask for a moment:: tis better if ye drink it... but you paid for it so tis yours to do with as you wish ::He grabs a bottle of Scotch and begins to drink it strait from the bottle::

Without a glance, she seems to nod absentmindedly, raising her hands to hold them on either sides of the flask. The temperature dropping noticeably, now, a warm glow reflects in her alien eyes as the liquor emits a bright golden light, bathing the bar like liquid honey. Where the light falls, the wood seems to toughen slightly, as if it had aged suddenly by a hundred years. On the skin, the light is warm and slick, almost slippery. The flask is covered in frost now, giving it a sterile sheen of enamel... With a sigh, she lowers the bottle to the bar and lets it rest on the wood, where frost begins to spread; making spider webs of ice across the grain. She reaches into her rags to find a small iron stopper, which she pushes into the flask, letting frost grow to seal it; shaping itself into the likeness of a morningstar... sharp and deadly.
Then, looking up to smile sweetly at the barkeeper; she speaks, as if from very far away, and her smile's sweetness never thouches her eyes. "I am not your lady." Her voice carries a cold resentment, still held aloof but somehow curdled... Never shifting her smile, or her gaze, she brings the watch out again and holds it up to her eye level, dropping it out of sight once again; she lets another strange coin fall, spinning, onto the aged wood of the counter. Without a word, she lets it's railing laughter echo around the room until it is silent and the coin is still. "Something to eat." She mutters detachedly, looking back across her shoulder, as if waiting for someone to come, but not really expecting that person to come yet. Hoping, perhaps. The room grows darker still; and the flask's toffee light throws fluid shadows against the walls... Many shiver, despite the warmth it lends.

::He shrugs and grabs the coin placing it beneath the counter:: Im sorry to have offended you madam. We have some beef stew cooking on the fires if you shall give me but a moment. ::he walks back to the kitchens and talks to one of the plump female cooks who brings him a bowl of stew. He returns with the stew and places it before the lady.:: Enjoy...

::He walks over to a large black hearth depicting gnarled heads of demons and humans in utter torment. He takes out box of flint and sets a small blaze in the hearth.He stares at the fire a moment becoming lost in its dancing flames. A look of almost blissfulness passing his face as he reaches out to the flames. He burns his hand quickly bringing him to the present. He moves back to behind the counter holding his hand. With the free and uninjured hand be drinks from the bottle of Scotch.::