Forums » General Roleplay » One Hell of an Evening

Jaqulynn hadn't spoke up. She wasn't particularly good at speaking with complete strangers. "So if you guys aren't the host, than do we have any idea who it might be?"Jaqulynn asked. While most couldn't see nor hear her, Marty was inspecting the others at the table. She quicklyfigured out Roxxie was a werewolf, most likely a loner given her position at the end of the table away from the others,thaanks notonly to smell, but her yellow eyes, soemthing common amongst werewolves. She could tell the little girl sitting next to Jal was some kind of psychic, whether she could read minds along withuse telekinesis, or see the future or see ghosts Marty couldn't tell. Atleast not yet. "Hey, could you ask if anyone can see me?"Marty asked Jenny. "No. If they can see you the nthey'll hear you two."Jenny whispered. "You ask."She added quietly.

Roxxie was just as much on edge as Nick was when she saw the little girl levitating the silver ware. Though it was less of a rational fear. She was really onlyhurt by silver in her werewolf form. "Anyone know what kind of drinks this place has?"Roxxie asked. "I get the feeling this is going to be a long night."She added. "Oh, and I'm not the host either. Couldn't afford to eat here normally."Roxxie said.

The pale woman looked at the boy across from her, the faintest trace of a smile playing on her lips. Some how it made the brown eyes gleam with even more... it could have been malice or terror. It was hard to tell, oddly.

"Nicholas Cain?" She supposed it could be a coincidence, multiple people with the same name, but there was always a chance it wasn't. "An associate of mine has mentioned that name in the past," she carried on, noting his Halloween comment but having no external reaction.

"Poor little Leslie," she murmured, just loud enough for him to here. She almost sounded like she gelt some sympathy. "She said she met you in a Jacoban Cathedral in Bridgeport... While it was raining blood. Probably nothing worth noting, I should mention she's quite prone to bouts of intense madness. But... There's also this." She pulled a slim, silver smartphone and typed something, pulling up an image of a book with a cover depicting a burning tower. The title read "Angerwood", beneath the name Charlotte Grace. "Her pen name. No one would buy a book written by a full-time asylum resident... Especially when she's written herself in. Pity. It's quite brilliant."

"It actually isn't uncommon," Loki told the woman, concerning his name. "The, uh, comments just get old."

To him, the grandmotherly woman's words to the little girl were just that, a playful tease from the old to the young. It helped him relax a little and smile - even though it probably shouldn't have.

"Such a darling," Jackson mused with an amused smile aimed at little Rosemary. His attention shifted to Roxxie then. "Mostly fine wines, and I think a few fancy cocktails. Probably not the sort of things you've had before."

Though it was said with a polite smile, something in his tone was distasteful, if not insulting.

"You might find the night goes faster and more pleasantly if you actually participate in it, though."

((Technically, it actually means battle, but enfin .))

"Oh, but it is! Well, here in America, that is. Are you by any chance from Down Under, dear?" The old lady gave Loki a little wink as she took a peek at the menu, giving him the time to savour her words. "I never managed to go to Australia, you know, but I've heard it's a terribly lovely country. I might visit it some day."

A servant had come, a prim-looking woman in a clean black outfit. She looked flustered. "Sorry everyone! A small, er, problem in the kitchen is going on. Meanwhile, though, I can take the orders for the starters!" The woman said almost too brightly.

Polemos didn't waste a second. "I shall have a dish of bouillabaisse soup, dear. We could do with some wine, too? I'll let the younger gentlemen choose that, though." She said with a small laugh.

Malvatre smirked and ordered red Bordeaux and ratatoille, pausing to lightly push his glasses backwards.
The woman then proceeded to glance at the "kids". "Do any of you want the children's menu?"

The boy with the shadows under his eyes watched the woman take out the phone and glanced at her uninterestedly, while fidgeting with the bloody silverware. It didn't hurt him after all, so it was probably very dilluted. Still, it itched like hell.

"No offense or anything, miss but you're the one who seems to have bouts of intense madness. Jacoban Cathedrals? A rain of blood? Is that like one of those retro rock concerts ? It seems like a nice book, though."
Lanthe commented lazily, while mentally searching his minds for any Charlotte Grace he had met.
"The title's interesting, that is. Anyway, it says there that it was written ages ago. I'm thirteen." The boy protested.

A waitress walked up to the table, dressed in a black outfit and with a small paper in her shirt saying Hey! My name is Casey! She was pretty by human standards, in a slightly plump way. Lanthe made a mental note of her form. He could use it someday.

Lanthe raised his hand straight up when she mentioned the orders. "Ooh, ooh! I want a prawn and salmon terrine, chicken liver pâté, Gorgonzola biscuits, a black olive tapenade, tomato and basil galettes, salmon tartare, scallop and orange salad..." The boy continued reading off the list for more than half a minute.

"What?" He asked the old lady at the end of the table. "You did say I wasn't eating well. Hey, it's free."

"A caprise salad and..." The little girl scanned the menu for something fried. She frowned when she saw there was nothing. "Um... Escargot for 4, please." She said this all with her "I'm-well-into-my-40s-don't-dare-question-me-peasant-or-feel-fork-in-your-eye-thank-you voice". "And a lemonade. Thank you." She smiled. The boy had a point. Good food, free. It was a no-brainer.

She cursed silently. Wrong reality. "You didn't struck me as an ignorant boy until now. Raining blood is far fetched, but on Razya, it happens every 47 years. You can't possibly know of every religion, can you? And it wasn't written 'a long time ago'. It says 2012. That's two years ago. Honestly."

She smiled at the waiter. "House soup, please, and rose wine."

"Wait they have chicken liver?"Jake asked in surprise, suddenly flipping through the menu. "Uh, yeah she'd like a kids menu."Jaqulynn said, indicating Jal. "I'd liek that chicken liver stuff he's getting, and lobster. And.... I think that'll be all my food for the moment. And I'd like to drink root beer."Jake said. "I'll just a get a steak and coke."Jared spoke up. "Uh..... I'd like..... uh...... I'll just get lobster too."Jenny said.

Roxxie rolled her eyes at Jackson's comment. "I don't know you people. Never met a single one of you. Don't really have any interest in it, only here for the free food."Roxxie said. "I'll get two large steaks and a beer."Roxxie said.

"Then you're in for a long night, miss. These sorts of places like to stretch everything out and fill your evening," Jackson said, smiling still. He turned his attention to the waitress then. "I think... salade de chèvre chaud and, hmm... le boudin? Thank you."

His pronunciation was certainly not perfect to the ear of a native French speaker, but he did have the sound of one reasonably familiar with the language. Perhaps a French student who had already made a trip or two.

As orders were taken, Loki realized that he hadn't even looked at the menu yet. He quickly grabbed it and began looking through, only to discover that there were few words he had any familiarity with. He could hear others rattling of orders like it was nothing, but he didn't understand a lick of it, nor could he have repeated it.

He was considering just ordering with the kid, so that he didn't hold things up. Finally something familiar hit his ears though, and he looked up to locate the source of the voice. He looked at the waitress then, pointed down the table at Roxxie, and said, "W-what she's having, please. The steak."

It's the prime duty of any slightly paranoic assassin to start up mental conspiracy threads when a flustered waitress quickly heads back to the kitchen after nearly walking into another guest. Malvatre was already extremely wary of coming here, specially with entities of the likes of Polemos and those demons present.

The frenchman eyed the wolf woman and the pale youth. "Root beer, madam? Well, everyone has their own tastes. Tell me, why come to this meeting if you are so reticent in staying? "

((Heya, guys. Sorry for these bland posts, I'm a bit busy and uninspired right now >.<)

"Oh, okay, but it says here and here that she's more than seventy years old...The things that she wrote happened a long time ago." Lanthe gave her a beaming smile. "So you're wrong, miss, I wasn't in Angerwood. What's Razya?" Lanthe asked while facepalming repeatedly in his mind's eye.

Oh, yes. What a lovely person. Really. Not only that he had to stay near a probable demoness for dinner, but he had to stay next to a humourless dimensional travelling demoness who didn't have the social skills to figure out that thirteen year old kids didn't know a thing about other dimensions. You didn't just walk up to one and ask Hey, here's an Ipad showing a book on Amazon that a batshit crazy old lady wrote, I think you're in the story! It's about rains of blood and creepy churches, and an asylum too! And even if she sensed he was something other than human, which was probably more likely, well...

Even so, he'd look into it aftwards. Despite himself, a world where blood rained every 47 years would probably be interesting. Lanthe wondered what the weather forecast was like. And now, for the upcoming famous event this November! Eyes on the ground and umbrellas up, people, it's RAINING BLOOD DAY! Remember, folks, it's highly advised to wear masks this time of the century.

Lanthe then turned to the left and glanced at the kid that was next to him, managing to keep his face straight. "Hi. Jared, right?"

Jared glanced up at Lanthe. "Uh... yeah."He said.

"Because, free food."Roxxie replied, thinking the answer was obvious. "Even if I have to put up with total strangers I don't care about."Roxxie added.

Back at the entrance a late comer arrived. The new comer certainly gave the waiter at the door quite a startle. "Sh-Shoo!"The waiter said, to the new comer. The new comer was about the size of a cougar. It walked on all fours and had a long snaking tail with long scraggly fur at the tip of its tail. It had the mane of a lion. Its face was almost human, though there were a few notable differences, such as the nsoe and a pair of fangs sticking out of the lower jaw. This beast was a manticore, and went by the name of Pezvhak. "One of your workers came and gave me this. He told me it was for free food, and I decided I'd try and eat at a restaurant atleast once in my life time."Pezvhak said, reaching out its tail, with an out stretched stinger with a paper pierced through it. The waiter took it and realized it actually was an invitation. "Uh... T-Table nine sir."The waiter said. Pez went over towards the table with out much hesitation. The first thing to catch his eye was the family of Changelings. He sneered, having never trusted shapeshifters. Pez passed Roxxie, soon taking a diagonally across from Lanthe.

If their little table hadn't already been drawing some confused and cautious attention, it certainly was now with the arrival of the manticore. In fact, some of the other guests, especially those at some of the closer tables, looked very interested in clearing out of the place with this sudden... leap in exotic atmosphere.

Jackson closed his eyes and grinned. When he opened them again, he stated to no one in particular, "An awful lot of people seem upset tonight. I hope it isn't from any misbegotten ideas about any of us. Prejudice is such an ugly thing."

Loki had mixed feelings when the manticore arrived. On one hand, this would surely make a trap far too obvious. On the other, manticores were not known to be pleasant creatures, and he wasn't too keen on all the extra attention its presence brought their way.

Recalling then how the elderly were prone to heart problems when there was too much excitement and unsure where this would rank, the halfdemon turned his attention toward the woman who had said so little so far, darling though she seemed. With an uncertain smile, he asked politely, "This is... becoming a very interesting night, isn't it?"

((Theoretically, it's Typhe now, but whatever.))

"Changeling, right? You're not one of those..." Lanthe's voice trailed off as he stared at the thing that just arrived. A manticore. To top off the disaster that the night was starting to be, there was a bloody manticore in the room. Lanthe was decidedly not big on manticores.

Of course it had to sit* across him.

The boy gave Jackson a subtle glare. He was prejudiced all right, specially against someone whose aura seemed to have taken a trip through a lion's intestines after throwing itself into a volcano. And then there was the name. Jackson. Son of Jack.
Lanthe knew A Jack once.**

The man was right, though. The sight of a lion with a scorpion's tail and the head of man wasn't probably what the humans thought of good dinner intertainement. The reason the manticore was so late was probably because he either didn't fit into a taxi or ate all the taxi drivers.

"Hi, I'm Nicholas. Pleasure to have you here." The boy said, deadpan, raising a cup of water in a greeting, while setting up extra awareness shielders***. Lanthe had mastered the poker face a long time ago.

*Lanthe preferred to ignore exactly how the manticore sat across him.
**The Jack, actually. He was...terrific.
***Manticores were known to abbhore shapeshifting. Probably jealousy. Who would like to look like a bad Photoshop pasting, anyway?

Mrs Polemos smiled wickedly at Loki before turning her attention to the manticore. "It is, isn't it, dearie? Something tells me that it will become even more interesting soon enough." The old lady gave the halfbreed a sideways glance.

Malvatre also stared at the manticore, his crimson glasses hiding the boiling rage that twisted and turned in his eyes. Manticores. His kind were their natural enemies. Well, predators, in the same way that the gryphon hunted the horse and the demon hunter hunted the daemon. "And what may your name be...monsieur?" The man asked coldly.

Isolde glanced down at her phone and began typing. For someone who was supposed to be such a threat, this being sure was thick. She knew who he was, of course she did. Information from her employer... She had tried to make her threats as discrete as possible; tiny little hints that she knew more about him than the patronizing time-traveling shapeshifter would like. There were children here, after all. He still blundered on like an idiot, though.

The book was a... personal inquiry. She presented it in the most bumbling mannor, intentionally. Still, the response "Nicholas Cain" had given her brought on the first pangs of an emotion she didn't quite recognize.

In case there was any doubt left of her intentions, she reached back into her purse. She withdrew a vile of gleaming powder, a spoon, a fork, and an wickedly sharp dagger. "Medical condition of my species," she explained amably to those sitting around her, including the newcomer, who intrested her little. "I have to eat on pure silver. Alloys are poisonous to us."