Evening at the Bleeding Heart

With a flourish she swung her cloak off and draped it on a coat rack, then waited to be greeted by her friend.



She couldn't see or sense Francis here at all. Finally a soft voice behind her said, "He doesn't appear to be in, tonight."

Gladys whirled around to see who had spoken; a tall sphinx blinked at her from her table. "Oh," Gladys replied, feeling silly now. But through her embarrassment she noticed the music playing; unlike anything she'd ever heard before. Quickly locating the source of the sound, she approached the gramophone, only to get drawn in by its marvelous craftsmanship and complexity.

Behind Gladys, a vague presence appears. It makes no noise, and doesn't feel like a threat. It's just... there. Waiting.



The creature attending Remi begins to disappear into a hazy cloud when the cursing begins. The air clears and it solidifies. It stares for a long, quiet moment, empty expression unchanging. After a moment if offers Remi a small container of cream and honey.



The rest of the staff looks sleepy and dull. Around the bar, a murmur goes up as food and drink is delivered. The orders aren't wrong, just... strange. The harpy looks at her raw stake- cut into an intricate replica of a carriage. A witch at the bar stares into her drink, contained within a tiny diorama of lake Hungrige.

For a few moments, Rémi felt genuinely bad for somehow managing to scare a spirit almost out of existence with his foul language. He sneered at the offerings, some lackluster attempt at intimidation, paused, and then annoyedly took a bit of both. He might have muttered a 'merci'. It was hard to tell.



At a loss, he turned around, tea cupped between both hands, and looked for a proper place to sit.



Guess he was staying.



He slid into a nice corner table, casting a suspicious glower over his shoulder. Seriously. What the hell was this place.

~*~*By Mael*~*~


They didn't know where Francis was? That seemed odd to Gladys, but she was promptly and effectively distracted by a most wondrous looking fruit. She gasped when she saw it, not certain as to what it was, but she had suspicions...

Gently she held out her hands to receive the gift and gently she cradled the soft thing in her palms. Could she still eat? And should she? It seemed beautiful, too perfect to ruin. But the scent of it hit her nostrils—subtle and sweet, like a warm afternoon among the wild strawberries, like springtime blossoms—and she made up her mind.

“Thank—” but the little servants were gone. Standing, she looked around for a quiet corner, and finding none, she headed for the door. Walking carefully, peach cradled in the small cage of her fingers, she attempted to slip past the large woman without being noticed.

There is a familiar smell coming to greet Clara's sharp nose, it's not the usual stench of drunk monsters and wet fur. Oh no no no...someone much more familiar, an unmistakeable aroma of death mixed with a tinge of wine. Clara looks down at the child who tries to sneak by undetected.



The big witch takes a step to the side, easily blocking the little vampire's way in the last moment, making her bump with her petite frame





The large woman chuckles a condescending laugh "Now now Devuchka... what's the rush? Let me

have a look at you..."



"I swear I take my eyes off of Braydon for ten seconds and there are FIVE more of you children popping up in his house....that said he must've killed Twenty by now..."

The woman lets out a light hearted scoff, though the smile on her big toad-like mouth spreads.



Out of appearantly nowhere a high pitched screech of rolling laughter comes and assaults the eardrums of anyone within 5 feet . The woman's furr shawl twists and turns on her shoulders as if there are rats crawling undeneath it and without warning a smelly gob filled with crooked teeth is laughing in the young vampire's face.



"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAH YOU'RE RIGHT CLARA YOU'RE RIGHT!!!!!



The old witch doesn't seem very pleased with the appearance of her screaming familiar as she rolls her eyes without acknowledging him



"WHAT DID THE OLD LUNATIC DO?! DIP YOU IN A WINE BARREL?!? AHAHA YOU REEK OF THE THING!!! AHAHAHAH"

The door opened half way, but immediately bumped into something and caused Michael to stop. He couldn't quite see in the dim lit tavern, but it was obvious something - or someone was blocking the way. Poking his head through the door, his hat barely fitting through the crack, his face almost bumped into a large, hairy, and very much tall creature.




Rising his head slowly, Michael's round pupils met rectangular ones, looking down at him with a mixture of confusion and... hatred?

The taller creature's eyes ventured towards Michael's ears, squinting at him and blowing hot air through his goat-like nose.

Michael smiled warily, gulping, his eyes squinting awkwardly with his attempted friendliness.

"G-Guten abend...?" he wondered if the magical beings of this forest even spoke human tongue at all, but gave it a try either way, his British accent slightly evident when he spoke.

The satyr only gave him a flash of his teeth, before passing Michael out of the tavern, making sure to push him in the process. He almost stumbled onto the wooden floor, but managed to hang onto the door frame before meeting face first with agony.

Michael blinked, still standing awkwardly at the door way, his hat positioned sideways over his head as he looked behind him at the passing figure.

Maybe it would be wise to get rid of his earrings for tonight... Possibly his hat as well....

Removing his cross earrings quickly, he poofed them away along with his witch hat with a puff of purple smoke, still eyeing the woods behind him.

Gladys tried to smile, but in her fear it turned into more of a grimace.