you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

Typically, even in the assassin's drunken state, she rarely, if ever, reached out to her other bar-mates. Today was different, Vhalla wasn't hardly aware of what had gotten into her to harass the young man sitting next to her a few seats away. Perhaps it was because he looked like easy prey, maybe it was because she wanted to be wanted for a change and yet, she already knew she wasn't going to find it in this bar. So, she saunters, or more like staggers, down the bar to sling her arm across his shoulder, her drink slamming on the counter next to him. Glacier eyes peer over his shoulder as she gazes intently at his work before demanding to know what she was working on. Vhalla is hardly disappointed when the man gruffly replies, Vhal tipping her head she demands a drink for the man. When her attention returns back to her companion, she frowns for a moment, the sketchbook gone but she doesn't complain. Her arm now vacating his shoulders, she simply turns to face him, though she continues to lean on him, a broad grin so stretched across her pearly whites.

She was pleased that the man decided to indulge in her money, the assassin knowing she wasn't hardly good for anything else these days. She couldn't even go see Dorian and Sebastian, the thought almost having her cringing at what Dorian would say. The witch was almost certain that she could get Sebastian to drink with her though she hardly thought the vampire would like to get as... sloppy as she so liked to get these days. His demand has Vhalla staring at him for a moment as he shifts away, the girl rolling her eyes as she sits down in the chair next to him. Bringing the glass to her lips once more, she takes a decidedly large drink before setting it back down, her slender, calloused fingers so toying with the crystal rim. Vhalla is very nearly ready to demand he show her that sketchbook of his before his own question slips out and dances across her ears. Gaze hardening, she watches him with a narrowed look for the briefest of moments before a smile replaces that look. Waving a hand almost dismissively, "Why do you think I'm getting lost in the bottle?" She asks casually, as if she were trying to buy time before she could say something she would regret. Who was she kidding? She was trying to buy time as she brought her lips to the glass and finished it off.

It's then that the bartender returns with the man's drink, Vhalla waving her empty glass at him before he quickly returns and fills it up once more. Deciding on honesty, no one ever believed her anyways, her stories far too outrageous, "Let's be honest, who isn't trying to drown themselves in the bottle when living here these days?" She laughs a dead laugh, "My reasonings are vampires and shifters... particularly the kitty cat kinds," she shrugs before taking another drink, though she sips this one as a wave of recent memories return back to her. Even now she couldn't get Tetradore out of her head, his words practically on repeat and yet, the assassin was smart enough to know it was to save them both from their masters' wrath. And yet, it had struck a chord so deep she couldn't let it go. Fingers tightening around her glass for the briefest of moments, she looks up with glacier eyes and back to the man sitting next to her. "So you're an artist," it was a statement rather than a question, Vhalla wanting to change the subject as soon as possible.

"Why did you put your sketchbook away, it wasn't like I was going to set it on fire," she grins again, enjoying the secret joke she had just made. It was true, she wouldn't set anything on fire these days unless she wanted to, the girl having gain mastery over at least one of her magical abilities. "Are you hungry?" She asks suddenly, realizing she didn't want this man to run away after his drink, it was nice to talk to someone who didn't know her for what she was: a monster. "For real, no strings attached. I wasn't lying when I said I have too much money," she even attempts for a charming smile and it ended up more as a grimace, the assassin reaching for her drink as she nurses it a bit more. Even with all her drinking for the night, she found her mind clearing every once in awhile, the witch asking herself why she was going through all this trouble just to talk to a stranger. "You don't have to show me your works but what kind of sketches do you do?" She asks, a bit of curiosity so coating her words as her eyes stare pointedly at his bag. No, she wouldn't ask him to take out his sketchbook but Vhalla would make it rather clear she still wanted to see it.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered