you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
It wasn't unusual to find the witch frequenting the bar on the west side of the city - actually, it was one hundred percent normal. Though, Vhalla had to admit that she had been drinking less and less, the woman hardly falling into the drunkenness anytime she woke up. Yet, she still struggled with it, it wasn't terrible difficult to return to those alcoholic tendencies - take tonight for example: a glass of whatever was on the taps for the night. Her slender fingers encompass the glass, a nail delicately tapping on the condensation as her gaze is somewhat unfocused on the wall. She notes the shelves of shot glasses, the sound of the bartender taking a drink order several seats down from her somewhat muted as she ponders over nothing in particular. A frown creasing her brows as her white hair, unbound for a change, falls over her shoulder.
Vhalla had peeled off that notorious suit of hers early that day, the material lying in a heap in her bathroom, the assassin far too tired to take the time to clean it. Instead, she's clad in dark pants that hug her generous curves, a loose fitting white shirt and a black jacket slung across her shoulders. The nice thing about this bar was, to put it simply, it was shady, it was dingy and best of all, she was rarely bothered by anyone. Vhalla is vaguely aware of the clashing of billiards behind her and as much as she enjoyed a good game, even the pool table couldn't entice her out of her brooding. Lifting the draft to her lips, she takes a deep drink, and might have drained the whole thing if a familiar looming figure hadn't just walked through the door. Carefully, Vhal sets the glass on the counter, her blue eyes darting towards the man to confirm that it was indeed him.
It was no surprise to see the hesitation, honestly the witch was convinced he would have turned around and walked back out and yet, he moves towards her. Quickly turning in her seat, she kicks her legs up onto the chair next to her, crossing them as if she were lounging out home. Her hand reaches it her coat pocket and she pulls out her cell phone, eyes glued to the screen as she begins to rapidly fire off several texts. The woman looked nothing more than a bored queen in the establishment, the embodiment of laziness as she wholly ignored Lazarus as she approaches her. The moment he begins to speak, she lifts a finger up to silence him - interrupting whatever he is about to say as she continues to text. A minute passes and then two, surprise flickers somewhere inside of her as he continues to stand there, entirely aware of the rage that is surely beginning to build within him.
Finally, she sets her phone face down on the bar, her head tilting towards him, managing to look down her nose at him while he stood above her. A bland smile stretches across her lips as she gives him a once over, "Bartender," she coos over her shoulder without taking her eyes off of Laz, "I didn't realize you accepted strays in your establishment," she says, her grin turning wicked.
Vhalla Solarn
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered