A drink or three..[Closed unless Invited]

[Damia]

It was not often that the vampiress now days got drunk. Before it had been daily as at one point in various clans she had been guild leader and finder. And to find anything in this city, one had to buy hundreds of drinks until the bartenders talked. Greedy humans that knew they could demand the roof on that sort of thing.

But this evening was different. Tired, out of sorts, and so many other private problems that one did not spill even to close friends. Her sire was resting peacefully and Damia was loathe to disturb her. Which left the lady in a quandary. There were a few she could tell her problems to, one she already had. But there was no one person who understood her better then him. Her brother. Thick, thin, wars, fights, family. Had simply brought them closer. In this new eternity she found herself in, stuck in unlife, punished for a suicide she had not planned just done. She still felt lost. And the one place she might go had been torn down while she had been gone.

Her steps took her to a hidden bar, an invitation sent out to D, to meet her there. She knew he would listen, and as always help her center herself. So much was bubbling, tears, frustrations, anger, and a little bit of disgust from too many new males who sought to buy her a drink. One this very eve had offered to take her to bed as casually as he had offered her a seat. Then pretended he had been joking. That had simply been a push too far. Quietly she went and ordered a round of drinks, enough for a whole room load of people. Bloodwhiskey, blood wine, the works. Then she paid the bartender extra to grab a room as she took the cart of drinks with her. In the privacy of the room, her usual smile slipped, showing worry lines and stressed eyes as she waited.

[vermathraxrex]

He looked at the invitation carefully several times. His eyebrow cocked as he considered the simplicity of the words and the meaning hiding behind them. Something told him his recently awakened sister was not having a good time of things.

"Should I bring a bottle or wear armor?" he jested to himself. It was indeed a jest. The pair of them could be social enough no matter what, but a direct request usually meant more serious matters were in play. He knew when he had sensed she had returned that she would not find the same city waiting for her that she had left. He wondered how she would adjust to it all and now, perhaps, the answer sat in the palm of his hand.

He went to his cellar and pulled out a couple of rare vintages to add to the experience if needed, and then dressed for the night.

The place was simple enough to find. A hodgepodge of vamps sat about engaged in their own conversations and whatnot. A discreet inquiry at the bar told him where she was and he slipped through the crowd and made his way to where the private rooms were. From here his nose led him unerringly to the place she waited. Several soft knocks at the door before he spoke.

"Open up, brat," he said. He knew it would leave no doubt in her mind who knocked.

[Damia]

The knock came a bit later, three drinks already empty on the table as she sat up and opened the door letting him in. A fond smile smoothed her face out for a moment even as she took his bottles and set them on the table.

She let herself forget troubles for a minute as she slapped at his shoulder softly for calling her a brat.

"Someone should look in the mirror. I'm not the one who has a talking sword"

She chuckled at the thought of that time long ago when she had given him the sword she had received. Knowing he would keep it safe no matter the fact the damn thing talked and hated males. But then he was a dragon, so perhaps the sword figured it was safer to be silent around him. The mood turned somber as the veneer was cracked open now at that memory of finding out her Inn had burned down to pieces.

"Burnt to ashes, just like me. Funny how the wheel turns."

[vermathraxrex]

'Burnt to ashes?' he thought to himself for a moment before it hit him.

"Oh yes," he replied as he patted her shoulder a bit before taking a seat. Reflexively his eyes skimmed over the array of drinks before he settled on one and took a sip. The destruction of the Inn was one of things he wondered how she would deal with. Rawnie and Arc built it and Damia and her (then) partner were among the first of its occupants. A lot of history was tied to that pile of rubble out in the countryside now. A lot of his own was there as well, but he personally was used to chunks of his past drifting off to limbo. Events like this spurred him on to keep such detailed journals of his continuing life.

"I was surprised as anyone," he began to speak. "When I found myself near the area and decided to drop in and found nothing. The grounds are still there but the Inn itself was practically vaporized. Who did it and why I have no clue," he admitted.

How much else had changed between her times here he could only guess at. "But the wheel keeps turning, my dear sister. You either have to find a way to ride it or be crushed under it. It's that simple."

He downed his drink and began to eye the selection for another.