RP:Panic Room

    Restaurant Kelay '

Sabrina sat back in her chair, toying with a clean but empty glass; twirling the instrument in hand and staring into the shallow abyss like she was waiting for it to do something. Thin dark brows furrow as she watches a single drop of water follow the gravitational lead, tracing the inner rim in kind. Rohk was nowhere to be seen, said something about the candles and decided on chasing sewer rats instead. Sabrina was neat today; silken trusses tied back intricately in braids that laced beautifully against the river of wet ink and clothes free from the metallic blood that had lingered as of late. With no Rohk she had little to do aside from contemplating the movement of that single droplet of water that refused her persuasions incessantly.

Raphaline is hungry, or at least, that is the excuse she will give when asked about her appearance at the restaurant. Having been in the area recently, there is no better place to stop off for a bite, plus she is craving some of that honeydew. As she slips into the restaurant, her trademark grin on her lips, she asks, "Just me today. Thought I'd have an actual meal before traveling off somewhere where decent food can't be found."

Krice was just -tired-, and he wanted water that tasted like it came from an establishment that gave a damn. So, it was just a minute or so after Raphaline's arrival that the warrior showed up, his features obscured by that long silver hair, his katana strapped to his right hip, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Apart from the fact that he didn't hold himself like a warrior today, he seemed none too worse for wear. He passed through the familiar scent of that bard, caught a whiff of another, more vague scent, but went through to the back of the room where he'd take a seat at the farthest table from the door. Releasing a quiet grunt of approval, the man relaxed back in his chair, crossed his left foot over the right ankle - on the floor - under the seat of the chair opposite him, and reclined with his fingers interlocked atop his head and eyes closed.

Sabrina’s attention is drawn by a beautiful female, she hadn’t seen her enter having been otherwise distracted, but her voice was like a songbird when she spoke. She smiled, the relief of her troubles venturing to a different part of her mind as she sets the glass down- just so, centered in front of her on the table and turning it three times rightly. Her eyes catch someone she felt should be familiar to her; however she seemed to dismiss him as quickly as he did her. The place seemed to crowd at peak times during the day- at this moment she figured it to be breakfast though the day was already half gone for her. She shifts in her chair, recoiling into her spot and suddenly wishing to be unseen. Probably a victim of bad timing it appeared to her these two were meeting here. Social interactions were never really her specialty. She didn’t call the book today- too many people began to ask questions about how it appeared and she frankly couldn’t answer that question. Instead she pulls a smaller book from the pocket of her golden overcoat and delves into the pages silently.

Raphaline caught out of the corner of her eye the silver-haired warrior, a peak of a smile dancing at the corner of her lips. Emerald eyes dance over those gathered, and she finds some familiar, while others not so much. As for the female with book, she turns to the waitress, shakes her head no for a table, before making her way over. "Morning." She greets in that silver-belled voice, while she places a hand atop a chair, but doesn't quite pull it out again.

Krice didn't usually come to the restaurant at around this hour, as announced by the waitress when she came to him with a glass of water. He thanked her, and she said, "I'm not used to seein' you here this early, Krice. You're welcome any time of the day, of course." That waitress moseyed on to Sabrina's table to interact with the two women, whilst Krice cast a glance at Raphaline along the line of his left shoulder. He observed her in silence, his attention drawn perhaps by the quality of her voice - just as Sabrina's attention had been. Something in his eyes shifted, something... too vague to be discerned, and he blinked it back anyway as he turned his attention to his water.

Sabrina nearly jumps out of her skin. Her masque of solidarity betrayed her, and once again her assumptions about social aspects were… alas… incorrect. She didn’t respond immediately; finally she offered a heavily accented “Indeed it is.” Confirming what could only be a query as to the time of day. She seemed confused, thinking this would be an obvious observation but never put simple things past most of those around her anymore. She closed the book neatly, staring up at Raphaline and expecting her to go when the waitress joins them there. Now there were two people sucking up her air and she had no idea what either of them wanted. She thought to stand, but instead uses her foot to push out the chair which the bard’s hand rested upon.

Raphaline notices the leap from her skin, and quirks a brow as she releases the chair. As for the chair flying towards her, well, she moves a bit out of the projectile's direction before giving Sabrina a questioning look. "Not one for social contact I assume." Her hand once more replaces the spot on the top of the chair, but does not seat herself quite yet.

Lydrain walks into the Restaurant, his stomach rumbling. He really should remember to eat. Anyway, he was hungry, and he decided that it would be good if he got out of the academy for a while. So he just followed his nose after he had made it to Kelay, and it led him here. Smiling, he sat at a table, and waited. During his wait, he would scan the few people that were currently inside of the eatery. Spying two familiar faces, he will call out, only to one of them, "Good Morning Sabrina." It was a short greeting, but a hungry dragon had no time for pleasantries, even if he was currently in an elven shape.

Krice didn't disturb the women as they worked out their interaction. Lifting his glass, the warrior - as told by the katana strapped to his right hip - took two mouthfuls of the water from there-in, but the restaurant door drew his eye as a newcomer entered. He took note of Lydrain, just a brief glance to acknowledge the other male, before he finished his glass of water and requested another from the waitress on her way back past his table.

Sabrina didn’t want to risk another outburst from the female, having pushed the chair as an offering to sit went rather badly and she could feel her cheeks grow red. She starts “We-“…Except Rohk wasn’t here. “I do not usually… no.” The accent was richly laced with several tell-tale weights. The bard would no doubt pick up the obvious River Elf, enhanced deeply with a pirate twang. Her common was rough to say the least- but at the same time reserved in tone and of scholarly quality. Luck would have it as her attention was grabbed by one who knew her name. An audible sigh of relief played with a similar effect of the expression across her visage and the panic that was growing inside her began to subside. She’d wished Ro was here but this one would have to do. She offered Lydrain the most inviting smile and faked an encouraging mark of recognition. Then her words betrayed her with an enthusiastic “Hi…” and a questionable “…you.” Her smile fades stiffly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The male in the corner was, for the time being, the last of her worries.

Raphaline notices the recognition between the two, and rather than make a situation more awkward, she moves from chair to the side of the table. "At least there is someone you know, less awkward." The bard quips as she departs the table, and makes for the back with little notice to intention other than her emerald eyes that dance over the silver-haired warrior.

Lydrain laughs when he hears Sabrina's slip up. It was just something that he has grown to expect. Walking over to her table, "Do you mind if I sit with you? If you would rather I didn't, I understand the need for solitude, even in a public place like this." He was being completely honest, sometimes he just wished other people would leave him alone, but, I guess that comes with the territory of being Headmaster and Mage-Commander of Larket, you didn't get left alone.

Krice gave nothing to Sabrina that she would need to worry about - except maybe the worry that he was approaching her table when he stood and moved away from his.That was an issue of her own, however, if it existed at all, not through any intention on his part. Before that, he lifted his gaze from his glass and took a glance in Raphaline's direction, most notably when Lydrain stood to pass her - on her way by - on -his- way to Sabrina's table. Not Krice's. Lydrain's. Krice was still sitting. This is sounding like a Daisy post. Nonsense aside, the silver-haired man rose from his table and moved smoothly toward the door, but he did so in such a way as to intercept Raphaline. He bowed his head in a greeting to her, and the moment his eyes met hers, his features softened into a small but amicable smile; that previous tiredness for the most part forgotten. These two were obviously acquainted. He did not seek to stop the woman, however, and carried on his way toward the exit, through which he'd meander out onto Kelay Way. If Raphaline followed him, he'd hold the door open for her to exit in his wake. If not, he'd simply let it swing closed.

Sabrina wanted to scream out an apology to the beautiful creature with the golden vocals, but she wouldn’t have known how to begin. She did however exhibit certain traits that made her look guilty. She hoped the girl was unfamiliar, not some friend she forgot to make note of. She reached instinctively for the parchment on her belt-loop, reminding herself it wasn’t there. The quill, however, remained neatly tucked into her hair. She began to tear up. She didn’t deny Lydrain the seat, simply explained something about rats stealing her parchment- though with the thick accent and the menial sobbing it must have been most difficult to understand. Krice’s movements came and went, in whatever fashion made it most understandable to the Daisy’s of this world. Everything was awhirl and nothing was making sense very fast.

Raphaline catches that glimpse from the warrior, and with the quirk a grin, she follows silently behind him to the exit. As for Sabrina, she turns her gaze over her shoulder and offers a wink to the woman, before leaving the establishment.

Krice arched a brow not at Raphaline turning to join him, but at the sudden rush of Lydrain needing to depart. Given the man's attire, the warrior assumed that it must have been something work-related. He kept the door held open for the other male anyway--he wasn't a dickhead who waited to slam doors into the faces of unsuspecting Larketian fools--and then diverted his attention to Sabrina. After a brief moment of thought, he directed to Raphaline a curious, " She invited you to sit with her." Did Raphaline want to stay here and join the woman? Krice helped her decide with a casual, " I've got things to do, anyway."

Sabrina was taken aback by Lydrains sudden departure and placed two pale hands on the table. Tears streaked down her cheeks and she gave the other two a panicked look. Lydrain… left her here. She figures she must have wronged him in the past and pulls the quill from her hair, digging the tip directly to the skin on the back of her hand. It was a symbol matching the symbols on Lydrains robes, and then something in Elvish just beneath it. She knew better than to venture into town without Rohk, and for goddam death she couldn’t figure out why she had. Maybe he left her here? She shook her head, thoroughly confused and looking quite lost- childlike. The table started to vibrate, convulse really, as the wood legs teetered the table top until the glass fell in a shatter at Raphaline’s feet. Full panic set in and mint green eyes turn sharply to an emerald glow. There is an increasing pressure as the air grew thick and heavy and in that suffocating moment in a thunderous pounding of an inexperienced porter she vanishes from the room- solving the dilemma of what one would do in this situation. The echo of a name lingers in the air “Ro.”