Four Seasons Bar

[Irea Dimelo]

Irea sat at the bar, leaning against it's hard wood top while one pale hand flipped the pages of the Hotel's wine catalog. She wore all black, her attire composed of a flowing skirt, blouse, and a scarf. All in all, the outfit was rather unremarkable, except for the addition of a diminutive derby hat which balanced precariously atop her head, a hat which never moved despite the frequent shake whenever a particularly tasteless wine was read from the list.

She glanced up after several minutes, checking to see if anyone she knew had walked in, but for the moment the bar was relatively empty, so she finally ordered a glass. It was only three in the afternoon, after all.

[BloodiedClaws]

Messenger slid forth from the shadows of the door, drifting more than walking towards the bar, and took a seat a couple stools down from Irea. He seemed to shrink a little as he sat down, but nothing about him had changed, it was almost as if hiding was simply second nature to him. He looked at the bartender, giving an almost shy smile, his voice whisper-quiet. "Whiskey."

He looked up, taking in the Darkling that sat not far from him, his grey-white eyes taking in her appearance. She reminded him of himself, though his pale flesh was nearly translucent, the veins contrasting starkly in blues and purples. He gave Irea a small smile. "Good afternoon." Again, the voice a graveside whisper.

[Irea Dimelo]

Irea glanced over at the sound of Messenger's voice, her darkly gaze passing over him, sizing him up. She smiled then, the expression an odd mixture of bared teeth and joy.

"I suppose it is afternoon," the Moonborn replied, "but it seems that you and I are both thinking along the same lines. It must be after five somewhere." She laughed quietly then, and the smile softened. "So tell me, are you new to Sacramento? I don't recognize you, but then again, that might not be so strange. I'm Irea, by the by."

[BloodiedClaws]

Messenger goes completely still as Irea's eyes scan him over, a product of his training in the Harbinger's realm. If eyes were on you, you were not to be seen, only punishment resulted from being seen. He forces himself to relax, that time was behind him, he didn't need to hide from everyone. He chuckles, a sound that is stiffled, as if laughter was foreign to him. "Five o'clock somewhere." He says, tipping his glass towards her with a nod.

"Messenger, I answer to Messenger, my role, my purpose, my calling." He says, doing his best to return her smile. "To answer, yes I am new to Sacramento, I arrived not long ago. It is a pleasure to meet you Irea."

[Cayce]

"Messenger," she repeated, rolling the sound around in her mouth, tasting it. "Messenger," she repeated again, smiling in full now.

"Tis a pleasure to meet you, Messenger, and welcome to the city. Tis a fine place, if a bit daunting at first and forever afterwards. But don't worry, I'm sure a messenger will have much work to do. What city did you hail from before, if you don't mind my asking?"

[BloodiedClaws]

"I popped out the "otherside" just over a year ago in Los Angeles." Messenger says, finding himself enjoying the feeling of being smiled at. It was odd, it scared him, but it was pleasant in its own way and something he was entirely unused to. Far too much hiding he decided, he would have to get out more. That thought brought more fear than the smile did. "Couldn't stand it there, the people there were all about shining bright and there were way too many lights. Way too many."

Messenger wasn't the most adept conversationalist, but he was putting in his best effort. "So... its this early in the day, and you're drinking wine. There's got to be a story behind that. Long day or is wine just an old friend?"

[Irea Dimelo]

"Los Angeles, interesting," Irea murmured, sipping at the aforementioned wine. She drank it slowly, letting the crimson liquid stain her pallet, and her brow furrowed momentarily. "I also hail from the City of Angels, having come from other places before, but I left for different reasons. This city does have much more atmospheric lighting, though; a subtle ambiance, if you will."

"As for why I'm drinking this," she continued, holding her glass to the light, "well, it is both a long story and an old friend of mine. More a cousin, really. A blood relative, in quite a literal sense," she giggled. "You see, I just returned to Sacramento after a long...business trip, so I am taking a chance to relax and to see who I run into. So now that we've run into each other, let me turn the question back around to you. Why whiskey at this time of day?"

[BloodiedClaws]

Messenger laughs along with Irea, it is still a quiet affair, almost whispered, but atleast it no longer seems restrained or forced. He quiets himself down after a few moments(though in reality it was already very quiet indeed), and gives Irea his best try at a warm smile.

"Never been much of a drinker," He says, his smile remaining but his voice quieting as if he remembered something. "today just seemed a good day to start off with a drink. I'm glad I made the choice to, meeting a dark friend such as yourself, a good day indeed. I woke up only an hour or so ago. I'm more of a nightowl, me and mornings are not friends, so I sleep during that time."

He takes a moment to look Irea over, his smile not wavering. "So did you not like LA or was the move from there more a matter of the choice being out of your hands?"

[Irea Dimelo]

"Leaving wasn't the choice, the choice was in picking where to go. Fortunately, I have good taste," she grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "Also, if we are friends, then you should call me Rea. I's can't be trusted, since eyes only see what they perceive, and we both know that that can be deceptive; and so it follows that it can't just be a coincidence, that i and eye have the same name. Hence why you should never trust a person who thinks in terms of 'I'."

[BloodiedClaws]

Messenger smiles as Irea begins her little rant on letters and eyes. When she leans in, Messenger leans in as well, so they are very close. He finds the action to be almost instinctive, but it made him uncomfortable being so close to someone without the intention of striking terror or pain into them. "Rea it is then." He says.

"So, what do you do for a living?" He asks, growing more curious in this oddball Darkling.