Post by Eriko Tokisaka on Feb 1, 2012 0:47:31 GMT -5
If you need me, I'll be drinking at the Thread.
That was the simple text message she had sent to a number of her acquaintances in the Dragons. It was a little misleading, really, since she was drinking juice rather than alcohol. Casual acquaintances, as well as the girls working the bar, stopped by to share a few words every now and then. It was relaxing to be there. More so than at home, sometimes. It was not an “up and up” establishment, by any means, but it was a pleasant mixture of the gritty underworld and the refined “gentle people” of the over-world. Certainly, people had to meet certain standards to get inside, but that did not mean they were the pinnacle of humanity. For that reason, the Crimson Thread was a nest of lies and filth, but, at the same time, a place of refinement, refreshment, and, sometimes, even love.
Whirling on the stool to prop her elbows up on the bar behind her, the young lady brought the icy shot glass to her lips, draining it of its contents. If one were thinking she was trying to look “cool”, they likely would have thought her to be acting childish. Those that knew the young lady, though, knew better. Eriko was the sort that generally only cared what a select few people thought. Everybody else could be left unnoticed, and her world would continue spinning on, most likely. Feeling somewhat emotional for the first time in a while, the young woman actually donned a sort of wistful expression.
Time really did keep on moving, she thought. It was times like that, places like that, that she wanted to protect. The Plague was a threat in and of itself, but the demons, Shadows, and all those other unnecessary things were no better. They were all dangerous- all destructive. Being able to think clearly, without the worry of being ambushed, or the concern of when a new packet of information was received was refreshing, and it allowed her to keep herself in check; reminded her that her goals were more human than simply crushing an enemy.
A number of smells were in the air, smoke and alcohol being the dominant scents. Normally, they would bother her, but in that almost natural mixture of smells, they put the girl at ease. Somebody had tampered with a jukebox in the corner, and a catchy tune started. Gradually, her leg began shifting to the beat, and, as she whirled back around, she motioned to have her glass refilled. Her insomnia had claimed much of her rest that week, yet she did not feel tired. She felt alive. It was an unusual, and pleasant, sensation, being alert not due to caution, but simply due to feeling good. As she began to down that shot of juice, she decided that she would linger for a while that night. She had all the time she needed, and nobody was going to tell her to get out.
Nobody in their right mind, anyway.
That was the simple text message she had sent to a number of her acquaintances in the Dragons. It was a little misleading, really, since she was drinking juice rather than alcohol. Casual acquaintances, as well as the girls working the bar, stopped by to share a few words every now and then. It was relaxing to be there. More so than at home, sometimes. It was not an “up and up” establishment, by any means, but it was a pleasant mixture of the gritty underworld and the refined “gentle people” of the over-world. Certainly, people had to meet certain standards to get inside, but that did not mean they were the pinnacle of humanity. For that reason, the Crimson Thread was a nest of lies and filth, but, at the same time, a place of refinement, refreshment, and, sometimes, even love.
Whirling on the stool to prop her elbows up on the bar behind her, the young lady brought the icy shot glass to her lips, draining it of its contents. If one were thinking she was trying to look “cool”, they likely would have thought her to be acting childish. Those that knew the young lady, though, knew better. Eriko was the sort that generally only cared what a select few people thought. Everybody else could be left unnoticed, and her world would continue spinning on, most likely. Feeling somewhat emotional for the first time in a while, the young woman actually donned a sort of wistful expression.
Time really did keep on moving, she thought. It was times like that, places like that, that she wanted to protect. The Plague was a threat in and of itself, but the demons, Shadows, and all those other unnecessary things were no better. They were all dangerous- all destructive. Being able to think clearly, without the worry of being ambushed, or the concern of when a new packet of information was received was refreshing, and it allowed her to keep herself in check; reminded her that her goals were more human than simply crushing an enemy.
A number of smells were in the air, smoke and alcohol being the dominant scents. Normally, they would bother her, but in that almost natural mixture of smells, they put the girl at ease. Somebody had tampered with a jukebox in the corner, and a catchy tune started. Gradually, her leg began shifting to the beat, and, as she whirled back around, she motioned to have her glass refilled. Her insomnia had claimed much of her rest that week, yet she did not feel tired. She felt alive. It was an unusual, and pleasant, sensation, being alert not due to caution, but simply due to feeling good. As she began to down that shot of juice, she decided that she would linger for a while that night. She had all the time she needed, and nobody was going to tell her to get out.
Nobody in their right mind, anyway.
Date: December 5th, 2015, Saturday; 19:30/7:30PM
Weather: Cold out, clear skies after having snowed.
Tagged: Open to all Dragons.
Notes: We were going to have a Dragon thread, but that one flopped for various reasons. I blame our schedules. Anyway, here's another. No planning beforehand. It's not necessary. Just tossing it out, and well see what happens, no?
