RP:Hungry Eyes
Kelay Tavern
Built and rebuilt, torn apart and set like stubborn bone, this tavern is the pinnacle of Hollow's entirety, wrought around the premise of peace, equality, and consummate amity. And of course, the old place had seen all of the three, but so much more. Dire markings of claw and steel cut deep into wall panels and floorboards. Set against the land's usual motif of destruction are signs of comfort. Twisting shadows and smoothing out a careful blanket of light with soft, quaint fires, a candelabra dangles down by thick cords, gripping the circular holder. Each twists up, converging upon the center, where they snake about one another and form a thick, secure anchor to Kelay Tavern's high, accommodating ceiling. The candelabra rattle now and again from the inn patrons overhead, pouring down globs of wax to the center of the room, which is wide and unobstructed. Cheaply carpentered tables and chairs grow outward around the bare dancing area, keeping to the rounded theme, and also keeping to a dwarven barkeep's avariciously born taste for 'economical' furniture. Hardly any expense has been wasted on the actual upkeep of the public center though, as can be garnered from the smell of deep pine, rich tobacco, and even richer spirits. Stairs twist away dimly near the high bar. And atop that side rests the inn logs, quill, and ink. This establishment's fine keeper, Mesthak, can be seen smiling out from his post at the bar, straight across to the room's always crackling stone-wrought hearth. Behind him, atop lofty shelves, sits an array of dark, amber, and clear liquids. Food smells waft from somewhere near at hand. A carefully printed and hung sign details the purchasable items here in the place of merriment, loss, laughter, and life. Also, tucked into a corner near one of two windows closest to the tavern doorway is a thickly papered bulletin board. A sign has been added next to the board that reads, 'The management requires patrons be fully inebriated at all times and that no curing spells be performed in this tavern-Thank you'.
Silvos stares at Kris rather hungrily.
Kris really doesn't like that stare. Or the undead, unnatural bastard for that matter.
Trevalyn enters the tavern at a brisk pace, giving a cheery wave to Kris and then to the other whom he doesn't know who… ugh, looks like they've seen healthier days. No matter! There's beer to be had and if this one humble human-form lycan doesn't down it then no one will! Or, so he tells himself as he buys some.
Silvos had mused the possibilities before him. A zombie in tatters, and yet not a single hint of rot. Not even a stink. Though his skin was covered in a strange, clear mucus-like substance, his heart did not beat, and his eyes lacked the passion of a soul. He was cold, and behaved as though he had no concept of emotion. He continued to stare at Kris in a hungry fashion, as if he wanted to jump on her and start gnawing away..
Silvos shares his hungry stare with Trevalyn...
Trevalyn sees the hungry stare when he turns back to Kris and her seemingly-mucus-covered admirer. He recognizes the look in his predators brain and it makes his lip curl ever so slightly, baring fangs in one corner of his mouth. Unlike a vampire, these teeth are more feral and canid-like. Not sharp needles for puncturing but heavy daggers for crunching and tearing. "Whoo boy, someone looks hungry. Best go eat a drunk outside or such." He comments to the odd-looking one. "I'd be too gritty to digest and Kris there isn't likely to react well if you try anything with her."
Kris was staring at Silvos with a hungry look of her own. One that said she would quiet enjoy removing the unnatural being from existence. She tapped her fingers on the bar-top, ready to grab any of the weapons on her person as necessary. She glances at Trevalyn, sighing softly. "You talk so much..."
Silvos laughed hollowly, resonating on such an unnatural tone and frequency. "I am indeed... Hungry for many things, and disappointed that I can't get them all." Again, his voice sounded more magical and dark than real. "Of course, I cannot recall when I last... dined..." Lines that a smug vampire might say dripping from the mouth of a different sort of walking corpse. Less blood bag, and more meat.
Theodore enters the tavern casually, an elderly human male wearing a formal suit of an unusual style. The man half-heartedly looks around, not really trying to look at who is there before sitting at a table in the dead middle of the tavern dining area. If looked at closely it might be seen that his eyes are dilating rapidly even in the consistent light.
Trevalyn tracks the elderly man's arrival as he finds his seat while never letting the starving… whatever it is out of his sight. "Yeah, life's full of little disappointments like that, isn't it? Cest la vie, we move on as best we can." A grin spreading to his lips at Kris's words, a comment to her. "Yes, I do my dear. But! Words are great fun and usually a prelude to something more. After all, anyone can kill one person with a sword but a word can launch a war which kills thousands."
Kris shakes her head at the lycan, frowning. She then glances back at Silvos. "Well, it'll be awhile still until you dine again."
Silvos licked his lips and blew a kiss toward Kris. He moved languidly, stetching out with cat-like dexterity until he crouched on a table upon his toes, appearing as a watchful gargoyle on a cathedral wall. He'd reply to Trevalyn, however. "I have... no life."
Theodore glances at Silvos as he crouches on a table, his eyes now normal. Then he signals Nancy to take his order, and when she arrives he quickly and decisively says, "Root Beer, on the rocks." Nancy replies, "Beer from what kind of root?". For the moment unfazed Ted says, "A carbonated dri…" and that's when he realizes what he is saying and quickly says to her, "Oh never mind, some water for now, please."
Kris sneered at Silvos, a hand resting on the crossbow hanging on her hip. Her pale gaze never wavered from the threat now placed before her.
Trevalyn chuckles at the beings mannerisms. The lycan resists the urge to snicker at the ‘no life’ comment with half-success, the smirk from holding it in manifesting on his angular face. He notes how the being moves though, wary all the same, as he walks closer to Kris. Theo, with his awareness, would read the lycans thoughts of caution and predatory awareness. In fact, all the man’s thoughts are through a lense of savagery as if he possessed two minds in one; instinct and reason melded. “There’s easier meals to be had.” He tells the creature. “Anyways, life, existence, ya know what I mean. We all scrape by, eh?”
Silvos didn't stir. A stillness that could only come from something dead as he watched the pair quietly. "Who said anything about eating you?" He directed that to the werewolf, but when he eyed Kris, his demeanor darkened somehow. "But you... I just want to do unspeakable things to you, if only to antagonize your hatred." A fight wasn't really wise, but he always loved to get a rise out of people. And with his daily public disturbance drawing to a close, he relegated to taking a seat.
Theodore watches the conversation taking place with a calm, almost complacent outlook as he receives the water from Nancy. As the being that he couldn't get a read on began to take a seat in a real chair he glances over at the other two who he can read, but still respecting their privacy only scans surface thoughts.
Kris turns on her stool, fully facing Silvos now. She said nothing in response to his comment, her hand never moving from her crossbow.
Trevalyn glances to Kris’s movement, most his attention on the undead however. “Well, no one said anything about eating me, but you did give me the hungry stink eye too. Plus, I’m fond of Kris here and I’d react poorly to you doing unspeakable things to her. Then it’d end up turning into a nasty slobberknocker with lots of broken furniture and bones, which would make my night in many ways, but probably get me kicked out of the bar. So pretty please, with sugar on top, don’t try it with her. Or do. But that option has less pleasant results for you.” He smiles. “Drunks are far easier to eat and would probably get you a bit loopy for all the booze saturating their meat.”
Silvos laughed softly, but felt the conversation going no where. In a wink, he vanished.
Kris sighs heavily, barely relaxing when the being vanished. She reaches behind her to grab her drink and downs it one swig.
Theodore stands up and finishes his water before turning to the remaining two and projects a telepathic sense of friendliness, "Good night to the both of you." He then smiles before walking towards the door.
Trevalyn gives a victory arm pump as the undead disappears. “Oh yeah, who’s a fierce one? This guy here.” He laughs half-maniacally and flops down in a chair next to Kris, watching her down the bottle in one smooth motion. His nostrils flare at the scent of the alcohol permeating her and his head quirks. “Usually when one is drinking themselves to death it helps to smoke too? Completes the dark and brooding image, you know. I’d watch it in case that thing is lurking outside somewhere eager to sample a bite out of your well-basted rear.”
Kris peers over at him, raising her brows as she listens to the man. She smirks. "That? That was nothing. You haven't seen the beginning of my drinking abilities." And it was true, the woman could hold her liquor.
Trevalyn grins to Kris. “Really? I’ll have to watch them all the way through to the end sometime then. I can normally hold my own but methinks perhaps you’re more practiced than I am at it.” A subtle dig though he doesn’t mean it as such, more curious why on earth she does spend her nights in bars drinking until she decides to go home to her kid. “Regardless, you’re welcome! I could hear your thanks in my mind and such. Have a drink on you? Don’t mind if I do.” He extends his hand for her bottle.
Kris pulls her hand back, keeping the bottle out of his reach, smirk playing on her lips. "Woah, woah. How do you know I won't hurt you for going after my alcohol?" Clearly there was more jest than threat in the statement.
Trevalyn looks wounded though with how she knows him by now it’s a front, like everything. “You are a cold, cold woman, dear Kris.” He ‘tsks’ her. “I step up to back you up against some slobbering undead which would like nothing more than to pour some dressing on you and dig in, willing to risk life and limb, and you won’t even share your booze with me?” A hand goes over his heart and his eyes go wide in a surprisingly good puppy dog expression. “Shocking, you are truly shocking. I suppose it’s like they say, no one appreciates what they don’t pay for and do you know what mercenaries go for these days? Hmmph. I am most put out.”
Kris rolls her eyes, setting down the bottle on the bar. She then leans towards the man, grabs a handful of his shirt at the collar, and hopefully before he could stop her she pulls him close enough to press her lips to his. Who knows what her motivation for such an action was, but there it was all the same. She pulls away, smirking slightly. "You talk too much."
Trevalyn registers the movement in, the hand reaching for him, the nearing of her face in an instant and his predators brain debates a dozen different actions between an aggressive response to a perceived assault to acceptance. In the end, the rational mind wins out and he doesn’t resist at all, going along with it and returning the gesture. He can taste the alcohol on her lips along with her skin and, all in all, finds it quite an enjoyable experience. “So I do.” He chuckles. “You make an interesting counter-point with your lips. Any other times you feel the urge to silence me in a similar way you’re most welcome to.”
Kris chuckles as she rolls her eyes again. "Well, I see how well that worked." She gently nudges him before reaching for her bottle again, taking a swig. "I really should probably head home..."
Trevalyn grins mischievously and retorts, “Maybe you need to practice more then?” But he doesn’t press her, clearly enjoying their banter. “Yes, I understand. As always, in the event said ambulatory and carnivorous corpse is lurking outside I’ll walk you there. Or clap my hands with you to poof there with that remarkable bit of magic I learned. Or since you don’t need to even leave here to clap your hands perhaps I just wanted to talk too much to you one more time this evening.” His eyes are glinting with amusement. “A pleasure, as always, dear Kris. See you about. Don’t fall into your giant roommates scrambled eggs, t’would be a horrible fate.”
Kris arches a brow at that mischievous grin. "Maybe. Haven't had much practice since...well, ya know." She didn't want to say it, it was always so hard to admit her husband was gone. She then shakes her head, sighing softly. The woman takes another swig from her bottle. "Yeah, and don't get yourself killed, Trevalyn..."
Trevalyn nods cheerfully. “Of course, of course. No worries, I have no plans to journey into the next life soon. Then again, I suppose few do. I’m healthy, hearty, and happy.” Then he gives her a playful wink. “You stay safe too, don’t go getting eaten by a walking corpse as I’m growing fond of you. And anytime you need practice it’s the least I can do to help you keep your skills sharp!”
[Last few lines of log lost]