Multiple Settings ۞The Ninth Seal۞ [Members Only] (Red Stag Coffee Shop)

[DarkNerd]

Ramjammer , FearItself , Nox Aeternae ,
SachiGrl
---
"Next please." The young man said, dryly, to a customer waiting in line. It was a woman who was on her phone, yammering something away to someone on the other line completely oblivious to the happenings of the world around her. His shoulders sank as a soft sigh came eyes dulling in their usual 'professional' expression, thankfully she was none the wiser, completely distracted by whatever on the phone. A balled fist came to his lips, as closing shut as he cleared his throat, reopening his eyes, "Sorry, ma'am. Are you ready or should I take the next customer?" That seemed to strike a tone with her as she gazed back at him with annoyance, striking some sort of chord. "Yeah... lemme call you back Betty..." She said before hanging up on whomever and going towards the counter, throwing her hair back with some attitude. "Mmm...yeah, I want a Triple Dolce Frappicino with a squeeze of cinnamon and clove, some cardamon, extra creamy, soymilk only, and blonde roast only." She emphasized her point as if to purposefully make the drink complicated. "Sure...Coming right up." He said back without the faintest of care or malice. She sized him up, sporting a maroon-colored apron and visor-like hat, to keep hair from falling into drinks. It was dark, messy, disheveled, and tussled about on his mane. He was of a darker complexion too, featuring black eyes that remained the same color despite the amount of ambient light.

The sound of machines whirred as he turned them on, assembling her drink bit by bit. First came the actual coffee-- blonde she preferred-- then the cream. A secondary whooshing noise came as a pointed nozzle pierced through a layer of cream and coffee to foam it up at high speeds followed by additional cream. Thankfully, he had all the other seasonings she requested as well: cinnamon, clove, cardamon. He didn't understand why anyone would want such an autumnal drink in the middle of summer but it wasn't really his place to question the customer-- they were 'always right.'

After a bit the drink was finished, he handed the drink to her in its special insulation cup with a black seal. "Here you go ma'am. That'll be 3.46, please." She looked at him with a shock. "3.46?? Are you kidding me?" She protested, bitchily. "I could make a way better drink for a better price." She said but acquiesced to the charge, pulling out the exact change with dollar bills and coins and sliding it to him, completely ignoring the tip jar. "There you go." She said tersely before grabbing her drink and making her way out grumbling something insensitive to herself passed the doors.

Isra' sighed shaking his head in a mix of disappointment and pity more than anything else before looking towards the next customer. "Sorry about that... Next please." He adjusted the black frames placed on his nose, a slight frown tugging at his lips now rather than his usual semi-stoic look with a slight smile.

 

[Ramjammer]

The distance that Lorette was willing to travel for a good cup of coffee could not be understated. She was a woman of particular tastes after all. Lorette preferred (and deserved) only the finest that life had to offer her. But the matter of coffee was wholly subjective. The most expensive brand didn't produce the best product. There were countless factors to take into account when searching for the best drink one could find, and Lorette kept all of them in mind during her search.

Unsurprisingly, Lorette was also a woman of dedication. Her desire to find what was to become her favorite cup of coffee had taken her all over the City. She'd made a conscious effort to avoid chain establishments headed by a corporate office, knowing that only a locally owned cafe would meet her standards. It had naturally led her to a few places that she would normally deem too shabby for his tastes, but Lorette felt that it was a sacrifice worth making in the end. She was even willing to dress slightly less than perfectly to blend in on her quest to find that glorious, legendary mug of coffee. The city was so very big, and Lorette was so very, very tired. It would all be worth it in the end.

And so she sat at a small table crammed into a corner, the dim lights of the room casting a cozy air about everything. Lorette perched on the well-worn chair afford to her as she waited for her order, fiddling with the rolled-up sleeve of her dress shirt. She'd forgone the usual jacket and dress pants this evening to avoid standing out too starkly. Instead, she chose the button-up shirt, not buttoned TOO tightly, of course, paired with a pair of form hugging jeans. JEANS of all things! Her Mother would be rolling in her grave to see her only daughter's state of disarray. Not that Lorette cared of course. But still, it was a drastic change in apparel for the normally uptight woman. She'd naturally pulled her long hair back, as was her custom whenever she ate. It wouldn't do for braided locks to suddenly find themselves swimming in her drink, it would ruin the drama and mystique of everything.

She decided to pass the time people watching while she waited for her order. The small cafe was reasonably busy. Patrons milled around everywhere that she could see, filling the small space with endless chatter. Lorette had naturally heard some rather interesting things during her weeks-long journey across the city. But no one caught her attention at the moment and it was looking like she'd be having a quiet evening this time around. Not that she minded that. The past month had been more than exhausting, necessitating Lorette's urgency to find a brand of coffee she could settle on. She would need it on a constant basis for the foreseeable future. Work had become more hectic than usual, which in and of itself wasn't a problem. But the Board of Directors continued to drag their feet on nearly every decision, practically forcing business to grind to a halt as they tried and failed to sort themselves out.

Lorette allowed a small frown to settle over her face as she replayed her conversation with the Vice President of HR earlier in her mind. He did not vocally express it, but she'd known the man long enough to tell when he was angry. Humans didn't scare her. Not the way another Therian could. Or a Daemon. Hell even a Signet user possessed more bite.

But Richard's normally jovial mood had been rather cold. It wasn't often he was so distant. Even as he bled Clients dry for everything that they had, he would always have a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. It was one reason Lorette liked him, even despite being a Human. He was ruthless, but at least he was FUN.

"The bastard has one foot in the grave, and none of them have the balls to push him the rest of the way in? What the hell are they doing up there?" He'd growled. A rather impressive feat for a Human, even if it was lacking in some aspects. If there was anyone irritated with the Board's inability to choose a course of action, it was Richard. He was a man that valued efficiency above all else. A wheel that wouldn't turn would not generate any money. And with news of the aging CEO's decline in health filtering through the grapevine, it was only a matter of time before the vultures started moving in.

Past business associates, illegitimate children, spurned lovers. Everyone would crawl out of the woodwork in the wake of the man's death to snatch up whatever assets they could. Any degree of leverage out of his control would never sit right with Richard, and he'd been working himself half to death as he tried to figure out how to weather the storm.

Lorette had offered to stay late that evening to assist in whatever way that she could. Her own dedication wasn't lacking, and she'd be damned if anyone caught the idea that she was shirking her duty. But Richard had ultimately declined her offer. The man had been set on the trail and would see things taken care of. One way or another. On one hand Lorette was pleased, knowing that the surly VP wouldn't allow any outside influence to hold sway over them. On the other, it was telling that the need was so dire that he was practically sleeping in his office.. The whole thing wasn't quite what Lorette would call a mess, but it certainly had the potential to become a massive one if something wasn't done soon.

Knowing that there was no point in trying to argue with the man, Lorette had taken her leave and set out on her own particular hunt. She'd always had the option to merely exert her will over the man, or any Human really. But the concept never really sat right with Lorette. Being threatening was one thing, but using an innate power to get her way seemed almost childish in some aspects. Lorette had made her career playing by the rules already set in place. If her own intellect and convictions weren't enough to change the man's mind, there was nothing else to be done for it.

It wasn't as if taking the night off was so bad anyhow. The weather was nice, and even though the room was a touch too loud for her sensitive ears, Lorette took comfort in the surrounding bustle.

It'd be considerably better if she had her drink, but a glance at the tired barista standing behind the register told Lorette that she'd be waiting a while yet.

You couldn't win them all.

 

[Nox Aeternae]

After a long day of work, there was nothing quite so relaxing as a nice cup of tea. Or at least, that's what Rosemary would have said, had she not discovered twenty minutes earlier that her favorite tea shop was unfortunately closed for the day. Disappointed, but not disheartened, she instead set off in search of another place to get her evening fix. That was how she had come to find herself standing in line at the Red Stag coffee house, waiting while the number of bedraggled and work weary slowly but steadily decreased in front of her.

She was somewhere near the center of the queue when she noticed the altercation going on between the barista and the woman at the front of the line. Curious, she paused the song currently playing on her Spotify playlist and removed her headphones to listen in. Who knows, maybe she would need to play witness if the angry woman decided to go full psycho. Fortunately, the situation seemed to sort itself out and the woman stormed off, beverage in hand. The barista look self-satisfied though, so at least it must have turned out in his favor.
Slipping her headphones back on over her ears, she went back to her original state of waiting.

Her head bobbed in time with the music while her mind began to wander toward other things, such as what she was going to do with the rest of her evening now that her shift at the University library was over. Maybe she could jump online and see who was available to play some WoW, or maybe ESO. Or she could start in on some of the books she'd borrowed from the library. Lucifer still needed to be taken for a walk, and her plants needed watering too so perhaps she should take care of that first.

A tap on her shoulder startled Rose out of her thoughts in time to see that the line ahead of her had disappeared and it was her turn to order. Sheepishly, she removed her headphones and stepped up to the counter, apologizing. She then looked up at the menu, scanning it for a moment before asking

"Do you serve tea here?"

 

[DarkNerd]

The evening crawled on, guests after guests coming, each being serviced and provided for in the capacity they required-- coffee, latté, tea, fancy drink, extra fancy drink-- they were all accommodated. "Next, please." Eventually, a He'd begin, dark eyes staring a fixed on a curious girl, flame for hair with a pair of headphones, asking rather innocently for tea. Despite how tired he was, a tired smile crept across his lips before he answered, "Yeah, we do. We have a whole bunch depending on what you prefer." He'd bow forward slightly, reaching underneath somewhere behind the counter, hands digging around for something. When he couldn't find it with his hands alone, his eyes shifted away from the woman to look below for the object, even going so far as to duck behind it. He began mumbling to himself, "Where the hell did they put it...?" A soft sigh came as he stood up, a laminated menu in one hand whilst the other placed on the counter to help himself up. He smiled wearily, handing the woman the menu, "Here you go, ma'am." The weariness faded slightly, showing som genuine warmth behind it.

If the woman were to gaze upon the selection, she would see the following options:


[Red Stag Artisan Tea Selection]
Premium tea selections.

Caffeinated
+ Black
- Darjeeling
- Asam
- Keemum
- Nilgiri
- Golden Monkey

+ Green Tea
- Matcha
- Sencha
- Longjing
- Genmaicha
- Hojicha
- Kuki Cha

+ Oolong
- High Mountain
- Da Hong Pho
- Jin Xuan (coming soon)

+ White
- Bai Mudan
- Shoumezei

Infusions are available at request.
- Hisbiscus, Chrysantheneum, Dandelion, Jasmine, Raspberry, Goji, Orange Peel, Cinnamon, Clove, Pumpkin Spiced, Winter Blend

Herbal Blends
- Blueberry Cardamon Blend
- Raspberry Orange Peel
- Lemon Mint Thyme
- Rosemary Raspberry
- Earl Grey Bountiful
- Custom Blend

* All tea is naturally sweetened by beet rock sugar unless requested otherwise.

The list was quite exhaustive-- perhaps to the point where it seemed daunting. However, it definitely allowed for a great deal of flexibility in one's choice and selection-- certainly far more than usual. There were no options for Boba tea as that was still not catered at Red Stag. They had piloted the products in a few locations but not in the one where the two were at.

"If you need a moment to review the options, please let me know." He said, observing her as she surveyed the menu. He would not be surprised if she did need the time; however, he was not too keen on whether she was the type whom knew what she wanted ahead of time or was indecisive and required time and/or counsel. A soft smile crept as he watched her. He glanced towards the woman seated not too far, watching them-- sunkissed skin, ebony tresses, jeans, a button-up shirt. If the girl of stock flame hair was unready, he would call to her, "Ma'am, if you're ready, I can get you next..." He said, politely. If she (Rosemary) was ready, he would glance back to her and get her order prior to serving the other woman.

 

[Nox Aeternae]

As he handed her the menu, Rosemary was surprised and delighted to see the large selection of available teas. It was much larger than she had expected for a coffee house. And while they didn't have all the same options her normal tea shop had, they did have quite a few of her favorites, and at a better price. A small part of her was tempted to ask for one of the more exotic-sounding teas, but then she remembered that her goal was to unwind, not to get buzzed. It only took her a minute to skim the list before she made her decision.

"I'll have a lemon mint tea, with some honey if you have it, please," she said, offering a warm smile as she handed back the menu. "If you don't that's alright too."

 

[SachiGrl]

Breesh had two dreams and they seemed to be slipping from her grasp. Ysh, her half-blooded sister, always challenged her, trying to take her rank, but the fierce Bastão that she was always stood her ground; it was very common for Bastãos to challenge their siblings. Just as Ysh challenged her, she challenged her second mother, Onah, but they fought too evenly, and her mother has grown accustomed to Breesh's fighting style. She needed to grow, but how?

An opportunity rose before the Temerária. Catching the Mestre's eye, he offered her a career advancement in her field. Instead of hunting for vertebrates, she was now assigned mammals, specifically her own kind. Ruul Aventureiro was her first target. She flew in to the town he was last seen the same night of her promotion. "He was Aventureiro when he left, we don't know what he is now," the Mestre's words of caution rang through her ears as she casually sat herself in a nearby coffee shop. After deciding to be a businessman, Ruul supposedly left to be under his second father's wing and went to college, but one night, he vanished. With enough investigation, it was clear that he disappeared willfully. It was her job and many others, who were already assigned the job, to find Ruul and interrogate him. If he refused, death would come his way.

Sitting on a cushioned chair before a wooden table, she contemplated her options. She could visit nearby forests, where Ruul is least likely to be, catch a few region exclusive vertebrates, then happily return to looking for more likely places her target may have gone; this option scares her as much as it excites her. Breesh wouldn't want to disappoint her Mestre, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Back and forth, her mind kept countering her logic. Maybe he has eyes everywhere... How else would he have known Ruul went missing... I'm sure this isn't a one time job. He must have more Bastãos targeted on his radar... her finger pulled, twirled about one tousled lock then searched for one of the dangling feathers in her hair to play with as her mind continued to wander.

She wore a loose, pastel-pink top that draped like an arch at her hips, long on her sides, but short at her center. Much like her hair, her belt dangled with many feathers, fastened within the loops of her black ripped jeans, it had beads giving it the shape similar to that of a belly dancing belt. Once she stood up decisively, the beads at her belt jittered as she moved to the barista. "Have you seen this man?" she slid a photo towards him, not necessarily caring if she cut anyone; she happened to slide the photo before the barista as a short, red-haired woman finished stating she wanted a lemon mint tea. The photo was of two men: one clearly older than the other. Ruul was the younger lad with short brown hair, light skin and freckles spread across his snout. She tapped her index finger on her target. As she hunched over the counter, the stock of her shotgun slid between her arm and hip hitting the edge of the counter. "Sorry," she muttered quickly then readjusted the sling of her weapon. She awaited his response.

Translations:
Bastãos = Bat Beasts
Mestre = Master
With
Nox Aeternae
DarkNerd

 

[DarkNerd]

The young man smiled gently, dark eyes observing her carefully, smiling, lips pursed as words were going to make our words before another guest intervened causing his gaze to veer from the one of reddened hair to now a woman with tawny dreads-- sporting a pinkish top and a dancer's belt lined with feathering. She had an... interesting wardrobe, dark eyes quickly scanning her before meeting amber irises set behind darkened sclera. More frightening yet was the fact she brandished a weapon in their establishment-- despite the laws of the city not allowing for it. If she had an accent, that might explain why; she could have been new to the area. She gave... a somewhat unnerving feeling, causing him to gulp anxiously-- the burning flames of it radiating through his heart. His eyes darted down at the photo that she slid to him, eyes squinting to make sense of what he was seeing. He furrowed his brows and shook his head before looking up at her.

"I don't know these two but..." He began before he looked up at her, some nervousness in his voice, "...Ma'am, you can't carry that here I'm afraid." He tried to broach the topic, especially because she was carrying a shotgun in the middle of a large city. If law enforcement was there, she could be fined for it; however, they were not in the area for the moment. "Also ma'am... I'm sorry but I have to ask you to wait in line before I can service any additional requests." He said, gently extending a hand to show her cordially the back of the line. She may or may not enjoy that suggestion, though he was trying his best to maintain some order. At least the line wasn't terribly long now-- just the redhead, possibly the woman of blackened tresses (Lorette) if she decided to stand in line to order something, and a couple of other humans though for some reason the barista and the woman who he was attempting to serve tea 'smelled' slightly different than the rest.

He glanced towards the red woman, smiling nervously, "S-Sorry about that.. you said, lemon mint tea with honey, right?" Repeating it as if he wanted to make sure; the aforementioned incident still had his brain in a bit of a tizzy.

 

[SachiGrl]

The dark haired barista with thick glasses looked quite intimidated. His hesitant manner in responding made her distrust every syllable escaping his tight-lipped mouth. "Ma'am..." she heard him say, "... you can't carry that here I'm afraid." The Bastão scoffed at this, "I dare someone to take it from me." She indeed had a Brazilian accent, if adding an extra "ee" vowel sound to the end of her words didn't make it obvious enough, she'd occasionally mix the "ch" and the "sh" sounds when she spoke. Despite her accent, she spoke with confidence and suave. "I don't need any of your services," she scoffed again and proceeded to walk out of the establishment.

From what I recall.. she thought to herself as she gained distance from the coffee service store.. part-time folk change every five hours. Her head turned slightly towards the facility she just came out of... I'll return in another 5 hours. With that decision, she disappeared into the crowds. Her unique appearance resulted a domino like effect of stares from passersby-ers, leaving a trail behind her. Only those looking for her would find her easily.
Translation(s):
Bastão = Bat Beast
With
DarkNerd

 

[Nox Aeternae]

Rosemary glanced over at the newcomer at the same time, where her gaze was instantly drawn to the shotgun. She felt a thin trickle of fear down her spine as she stared at the possibly loaded firearm. Slowly she lifted her eyes to view the person wielding it. She was foreign, that much was obvious, even if Rose couldn't quite place the accent. She was also clearly not fazed by the idea of police confrontation, which meant she was likely dangerous. Rose glanced at the barista, hoping the male would choose his next words carefully, lest he anger the armed and potentially trigger happy stranger.
However just as suddenly as she had appeared, the woman left, striding out the door without another word. It took several moments for Rose's heartrate to return to normal, but eventually, she became calm once more. Looking at the barista with brows raised she said

"Now that. Was scary."

 

[Ramjammer]

Lorette wasn't one to be rankled by the presence of other Therians. Even those that weren't weren't Wolves, much less from outside the Clan. Meeting another Therianthrope in an Urban area was pretty a pretty mundane experience. The City was big enough, and busy enough to afford everyone their needed space, leading to far fewer squabbles for territory than most other places. Given the sheer scale of the area and the number of people commuting through it at all hours, trespassing was less a threat and more of a minor inconvenience. You couldn't very well stop someone en route to their job because they hadn't gotten the memo.

Naturally, that didn't stop some from trying but they weren't long to last.

And yet, there was something so very off about the Therian grilling the hapless Barista behind the register it warranted an arched brow from Lorette. It wasn't the accent. Everybody and anybody passed through, and almost half of them were from a different country. It wasn't the feathers, though she couldn't help but to internally deride the other woman's state of dress.

'Feathers? Really? I guess looking like a clown never really goes out of style.'

It wasn't even the gun, despite Lorette finding it somewhat barbaric in nature. A Therian killed with her fangs, her claws, and her wits. Nothing more and nothing less. Guns were for Humans, cleverly forging their own fangs where they had none at all. But for Humans all the same.

It was in a sense, the woman's entire demeanor. Her insistence that the poor man help her locate another, presumably Therian, was met with an awkward apology and denial. Lorette could smell the stranger's irritation from where she was sitting, and it unconsciously raised her hackles. She was in no immediate danger; she doubted that the other woman knew she was even there. But an openly pissed off Therian bordered on a challenge.

Lorette tamped down her surging instincts, lest she feed into the other woman's anger. Logic won out in the end, and discipline with hand in hand with it. It wouldn't do to start a fistfight in public with some strange woman because she might be a little angry for unknown reasons.

And if she was being honest, Lorette had no desire to be made privy to those reasons. Lack of subtlety or no, she had no place sticking her nose in another Therian's business unprompted.

'Not my Hunt, not my problem.' She mused dourly. It wouldn't have killed the other woman to dial it back, however. If even Humans were eyeballing her too closely, her prey would probably hear about long before she got within spitting distance.

The city had a lot of peering eyes, and a lot of perked ears. Lorette was no stranger to the buying and selling of information, and word spread very fast through the streets and back alleys.

She sat there at the table, her chin cupped in a palm as she perused the menu though her mind still wandered. 'Still kind of wonder who she's looking for.' Lorette mused, her eyes lifting only briefly to watch the strange Therian storm out of the door. She couldn't help the small scoff that slipped from her mouth at the sight. 'Probably a Bull. Only one of them would be so obstinate.' Lorette grumbled and shook off her intrusive thoughts for the time being. She'd come out to the Cafe for more important things, that being a drink.

The Tea menu was certainly interesting, but wasn't really the point of her focus. She briefly considered giving it a shot if the coffee didn't really work out. The establishment was a pleasant one. Clean, cozy and slightly intimate given the foot traffic. It was also fairly close by, not even a block from her home. Lorette was certainly in need of something to do most days and lurking around a cafe seemed as good a choice as anything else.

Her decision made she stood easily, gently nudging her chair aside to amble towards the counter. Her mind was elsewhere as it often tended to be, but she caught the words of the red-haired woman in front of her upon her approach.

Scary. Well, an angry stranger with a gun would certainly be scary for a Human. Slightly less so for a Therianthrope, but the danger was there and Lorette was no fool. Just because it would take more bullets to kill her than anything else, that didn't change the fact that they could end her. A sobering thought if there was one.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, she regarded the girl for a moment before deciding to speak. "If the young lady here is finished, I'll take your house special. Black." Her tone was stern, but not hostile. Richard often called Lorette humorless, but she liked to consider herself the serious sort. And there was little in the world more serious than a cup of good coffee.

She scratched idly at her nose while she waited to be rung up, fighting the urge to stare too intently at the redheaded woman. She smelled odd. Not in the usual way that all Humans did, but that was still there. But there was something just slightly off about her scent.

'Seems all I do is run into weirdos these days.' She thought dourly. At the very least she wasn't an angry Therian, or a Daemon. That would have certainly put a damper on her day. Lorette was constantly grateful of all the time that she spent away from a Daemon. They were bastards, all of them. Granted, she was a bastard too, but that was strictly by choice. Daemons just fed into whatever 'Sin' they were born into or something like that. Lorette was a little fuzzy on the details, but you didn't need much when dealing with Infernals. They sucked, and she hated them. Clearly, all that really mattered in the end.

 

[DarkNerd]

The barista adjusted his glasses, sighing in relief as the woman of some sort of... ethnic vibe departed from the establishment, dark eyes following her as she made her way out, watching the hips sway in natural form with some peculiarity and a dancer's gait, causing blackened brows to furrow slightly before turning to the redhead who stated her own anxiety. He chuckled nervously, "Right?" Acknowledging the sentiment. It was not long before another terse tone would interrupt their short-lived cajoling at the awkward incident, face straightening as he directed his gaze towards the woman of blackened tresses again; she was ready to place an order.

"O-Oh... um.. certainly!" He responded nervously, looking towards the redhead and giving a polite smile. "I hope you enjoy your tea, ma'am. Thank you for your patronage." He spoke quite formally, even considering his age, and with a certain stylism too-- it made him seem a little anachronistic; however, what barista didn't have their own set of quirks? Coffee shops were the great attractors of all things eccentric, eclectic, and routinely 'indie/hippie' types as well; perhaps too, they were safe-havens and sanctuaries for the peculiar and different (as evident with the prior woman's entrance).

"Black Tea...? Yes, coming right up! " He said, voice cheery and perhaps relieved to know he was able to avoid an escalation between himself and the feathered woman touting a firearm earlier. He turned around to fulfill the request, going to work to fetch a bag from one of the glass jars, kept sealed by a large cork lid. As he went to work on the request, he'd look behind, "Is the usual sweetener okay?" He asked, double-checking. He had a feeling she might decline or request something different. If she did, he'd use that sweetener alternative or none if she desired nothing else in it.

Either way, the young barista would gently push the cup towards the woman of blackened tresses, encased with thin cardboard to help protect digits from the overwhelming heat of the tea. "Here you go... that'll be 2.95, please." He paused realizing he had forgotten to ask her what size of the brew she wanted, sighing and as a hand rose from his side and clasped onto his face, holding it there for a moment at his goof up. "I'm sorry... " He said, before looking up at the woman. "I.. forgot to ask you what size you wanted... " He confessed sheepishly, frowning slightly. "It's on the house." He said. While it was understandable the prior scene had thrown him off course, it was still no excuse for his mix up. They would just dock the cost out of his pay or something which wasn't enough but he also didn't make a whole lot either. "Please, enjoy your tea." He'd offer, feigning a smile but trying to keep his professional composure. Dark eyes behind blackened frames showed some signs of being little dismayed however. Thankfully there was a tip jar if one so chose to reward the barista(s) for their services.

it may have not noticed before due to the coffee scents and such overwhelming her therian nose but... something about him also smelled off though in a way similar to the redhead.

 

[SachiGrl]

Apparently, someone openly carrying a weapon is not common in these parts. Breesh shrugged at the thought. Humans are stupid... she gave another shrug... they can't honestly expect to walk around without any form of protection. Que porra é essa? This is a world with beasts and demons... she shook her head disapprovingly. With a nonchalant walk, Breesh visited neighboring stores asking the same question over and over. Their reactions are all different, but their answers are the same.

"Sir," she'd slam the photo before the cashier, cutting the line as usual, "You know this man?" Intense glares drilled at the back of her head, but not one customer dared to tell her off. Instead, they were fixated with the weapon she had hung over her shoulder; it was a popular shotgun from Brazil known as a Boito. The surface of it had a light rust, and it had a crack on its left side of its stock; a small sliver of wood was missing. Clearly, this was a weapon she was no stranger to. The male cashier was speechless at first, but managed to speak when she asked again in a more irritated voice, "N-no.. nope! Never s-seen him in my life!" This was no good. At this rate, she won't even know which direction he's went from here.

Supposedly, the young Bastão was last seen at the Red Stag Coffee Shop. Was it a one time trip? Did he visit regularly? These were vital pieces of information that would better guide her. She had to return to this coffee shop and await a new employee who may have possibly seen their missing Bastão. It didn't take her long to return to this establishment. She peeked through the glass-door only to find the same barista was catering to customers. She scoffed at the sight of him. Maybe, before he leaves, she could ask how long he's been employed here and whether he works the same shift consistently. These pieces of information can further enlighten her. She rested her back against the front wall of the shop, both legs and arms crossed patiently as she awaited a certain barista.
Translation(s):
Bastão = Bat Beast
Que porra é essa? = What the fuck?
With
DarkNerd

 

[Nox Aeternae]

Rose picked up her tea and stepped away from the counter to find herself a place to sit. She spotted an empty table in the corner and decided to take it. Making her way over she set down her cup and drew up a chair, sinking into it gratefully. Next, she reached into her bag and pulled out a book which she then began to read. Finally, she slipped on her headphones and hit the play button on her phone, resuming the song she'd been listening to before her turn at the counter. With the combination of tea, music and reading material, she was finally able to relax and slip into a state of calm obliviousness to the world.

 

[DarkNerd]

[NPC: Cloak and Dagger Figures]
Whilst the two therians and humans were distracted with matters pertaining to their own individual interests or affairs, a figure cloaked high aloft a high raise stared down. Despite the great height the androgynous figure stood, they could easily spot the feathered woman bolstering a shotgun, bouncing from one location to the next seeming in pursuit of someone or something. Their face remained cloaked by a hood from the darkness cast upon their face, the setting sun behind their backs. Two glowing green eyes could be seen, hardened pupils taking on the form of slits as they scoped at the contents of the building below, seeing the barista and girl of flaming hair despite the structures in place. Somehow, they could see past the objects while their eyes were in this state.

Another similarly dressed figure would appear, though instead of white their apparel was black and they had a somewhat different build, more seemingly muscular and that of a male. "Do you sense them?" The blackened figure asked the white one, the tone masculine sounding. The white-cloaked figure would look towards the black and shook their head, saying nothing more, glowing green dying down as the shadows of their hood obscured their face once more. "It appears they're UnAwakened." The voice of the white cloak figure was hard to discern as masculine or feminine, gazing at the black cloak figure before back down. "It appears though one of them is potentially a 'Seed.'"

The black figure looked down, ignoring the woman touting the shotgun, more concerned with what she was looking at inside the coffee shop though was unable to look through structures to know precisely. Even so, he did feel something. "Hm... I see what you mean." He turned his obscured gaze towards the white-cloaked figure who had their gaze still at the building housing 'Red Stag Coffee.' "What do you think we should do? Send a unit to dispatch them?"

The white figured released a soft groan and turning their gaze at the black cloak, "Don't be impulsive. We don't need to draw needless attention from the rest." They seemed to be a bit more objective and seemingly more calm, cool, and collected than the blackened cloak, "We will strike at midnight while activity is low and dispatch the Signet User then." With that, the white-cloaked figure turned away, beginning to walk away from the edge of the high rise, the black-cloaked figure staring as they did, "What of the 'Seed'?" He asked, causing the white cloak to stop in their tracks but did not turn about to face their black counterpart. "Either they can join or die." And with that, the white-cloaked figure began to resume their walk, the body disappearing as they did until they were no more. "Hmph..." The remaining figure scoffed before looking down from the high rise. "I guess it's gonna be somebody's unlucky day." He chuckled to himself before also turning and disappearing from sight.
[/NPC: Cloak and Dagger Figures]


Sure enough, time would march on as expected-- irrespective of who ordered what or the stare of a familiar female of feathers and gun stopping by from time to time leering impatiently through the glassed window, tinted with the coffee shop's logo. The young barista, looked at this watch, reading the time 8:45 PM. It'd be another 15 minutes or so until he could begin his closing process. Thankfully, most of the guests who wanted drinks and the sort had been reduced mostly to those having conversations, being on their laptops, reading their books, or playing with their phones. He'd sigh softly, adjusting black frames on his face. Moving over to one side, he'd kneel down and pluck out a few things, obscured from the general visibility of the other guests-- it was cleaning supplies. Isra' would begin wiping down the machines least likely to be used to service orders by guests, wiping down the knobs machines to help expedite the overall closing process. Hopefully, no one else would decide till then to put in any complicated orders. The young man would gaze at the guests, looking at the red hair woman about his age and then the woman with the black-tresses and sun-kissed skin, pausing for a moment and smiling as he did, attempting to be surreptitious in the effort to gaze upon them. Eventually, he'd resume his work, hoping neither saw him doing so.

 

[Ramjammer]

Her nose wrinkled as if catching wind of something particularly foul smelling. Lorette could not help the scowl playing at her lips as she stared the Barista down, and the woman's posture radiated offense.

"Do I look like the sort of asshole who demands free shit if my order comes out wrong?"

"I should kill you."

The words hung there, just on the edge of her mind but she'd never dare to say them aloud. The poor boy would likely have a fit if she threatened him so. It wouldn't make her popular with everyone currently in the establishment. Lorette eased up, if only slightly. She settled instead for rummaging around in her wallet for the appropriate amount and withdrew several bills. Slapping a Ten on the counter, and tossing a Twenty into the tip jar, she snatched up her drink and stormed away without so much as a thank you.

She fumed silently as she made her way back to her seat, anger slowly giving way to confusion. Lorette couldn't fathom what about the man had infuriated her so. Sure, the idea that she was cheap enough to take free shit was insulting enough. She had plenty of money, enough that she didn't need to stoop to tricking a cashier to save a few pennies.

But that paled in comparison to what she'd felt, even if seemingly. For a moment, Lorette struggled to recall what had set her off, but it clicked in the end.

There had been something about him, so subtly off she'd almost missed it. But once Lorette had the thought planted firmly in her mind, there was no mistaking it. The man was really no different from the redheaded woman that had been waiting at the counter. Different. But not in the manner she'd since grown accustomed to.

'Are all the weirdos coming out of the woodwork tonight?' She mused bitterly. There wasn't anything inherently supernatural about the pair, that much was obvious. They smelled weird, but not weird. Not weird enough to be dangerous. But weird enough to catch the Therian unawares. And Lorette hated little more than being caught unawares. Surprises killed as easily as anything, and it was little wonder that Lorette hated them.

Rubbing tiredly at her temples, Lorette huffed out a low groan as she tried to reign in her anxieties and calm down. She'd come out to have a good evening and there was little reason to toss it aside over a pair of oddities.

If Lorette really meant to relax, her associate didn't get the memo. Lorette's phone vibrated in her bag, and her ears perked unconsciously. The Therian didn't bother with a standard ringtone as the shrill sound only hurt her sensitive ears.

It was Richard, because of course it was. Lorette clenched her jaw, and bit back any irritation that threatened to rise within her before answering curtly.

"What?"

"And a howdy to you too." Richard sniped back. Lorette rolled her eyes and some chill in her voice melted away. "What is it?"

"The Big man is in the Hospital. Nobody thinks it's serious, but I need you on standby in case he bites it. Which I'm hoping he doesn't until we get all our ducks in a row." The man's gravelly voice grated slightly on her ears, but that was no fault of his own. Lorette's brow furrowed, and she finally opted to take a sip of her cooling tea.

"He's had four heart transplants. Eventually it'll get to a point where replacing them doesn't work, right?" While it was no secret that Ford Buckman had the money and the connections to get as many organs shoved into his aging body as he wanted, but there had to be a limit. Lorette thought so, and Richard wasn't far behind her in that regard.

"I sure hope so. The Good Lord is callin' that man home, and he's doin' his damnedest to avoid picking up." She snorted softly in amusement, but her mood tanked again when Richard started to talk again.

"His kids are meeting with the board tomorrow."

"Which ones?" She ground out, knowing full well that Ford had more illegitimate children than should have been possible, especially for a man his age. The CEO's 'kids' could have really been anybody.

"The legal ones. The ones with the stupid ass names. You remember his huge idiot son, right?" He queried, though there was no real reason to. Lorette's first and only meeting with the man in question had not been positive. It had started with her insulting his intelligence, and then spiraled downwards into a tirade about his state of dress, his height, his bleached teeth, and last but not least his idiotic (in her own opinion) name.

"Harlan." She hissed spitefully.

"What the Hell is with you? You can't seriously hate the boy when you've only met him once? Sure, you can tell he's a real dumbass before he even opens his mouth, but you've dealt with worse."

Lorette sniffed derisively, turning her nose up at Richard despite him not being physically present. "I don't need a reason to hate him. I just know that he's a piece of shit."

Much like most everyone in the city, there was nothing about Harlan that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't a Therian. He had no magical properties as far as Lorette could tell, and he wasn't a Demon. Harlan was quite average. Nothing special. He stood a rather normal example of a spoiled rich child. Hopelessly naive, and relentlessly arrogant while having none of the experience to back it up. There were hundreds of Harlans within the City, but none of them could come close to pissing off Lorette the way the original did.

Like a Dog that couldn't stand a particular house plant, or a cat that seethed at the sight of its own reflection. Lorette's hatred of the eldest Buckman son was all-consuming, and with no shred of logic.

"Right then." Richard said bluntly. "You just keep that to yourself if you run into them tomorrow. Ford isn't long for this world, and if through some miracle that fool inherits the company, he'll be gunning for the people that pissed him off last."

"He won't be if I kill him first."

Richard chuckled gruffly, and oddly pleasant sound though Lorette would never tell him. She didn't want him getting arrogant after all. "A woman after my own heart. But we need the fool alive. He might make a good puppet who knows. I'll keep you posted." And with that he hung up, leaving Lorette to sit in grim silence. The CEO moved ever closer to death, his many progeny were undoubtedly champing at the bit to get a piece of the fortune, and honestly it all sounded like a headache.

Lorette sighed and leaned back in her chair, trying to put work out of her mind for the time being. If the man died, he died. She wouldn't shed any tears over it. And the work that followed would just have to be a problem for future Lorette.

With that in mind, present Lorette pulled a Tablet from her bag and set to reading a novel she'd taken the time to purchase but never found the time to get into. The hours passed without her notice. From time to time, she'd catch the scent of the irate Therian from earlier, and she'd frown. The feathered woman was sure to attract someone's notice and Lorette hoped that she'd do it somewhere as far from her as possible.

Taking a moment to pause her reading, Lorette blinked owlishly as she noticed the crowd dwindling.

'Almost 9. The night is still pretty young.' She thought. While Lorette had no desire to settle in at home for the evening, she knew that she couldn't stay in the building forever. The staff had started to clean up, and they'd be kicking people out eventually.

Lorette stood and her bones creaked distressingly as she did so. Therian or not, sitting hunched over a table for several hours did a number on the body. She grimaced in mild discomfort, coming to her full height and shouldering her bag before sauntering out of the door.

The Therian wasn't one to dwaddle on what she should or shouldn't do, but something gave her pause momentarily just beyond the door. It wasn't a smell, at least not one that she couldn't immediately identify. It wasn't a sound. The City was full of sounds, all familiar and comforting in their own way.

It was merely a feeling, faint and without name. A hunch, or presence, or whatever the hell people called them. Lorette's brows knit in mild confusion, and the gears turned in her mind slowly. That made three separate occasions in which the same feeling had struck her. A sense of impending knowing that she couldn't place. And the Therian's instincts weren't often wrong.

Something, however faint had pricked her senses, and Lorette was just curious enough to try to puzzle it out.

 

[SachiGrl]

Her mouth widened as a yawn escaped and her hand instinctively covered the opening. At this time of day, the Bastãos thrive; they are, of course, creatures of the night. Her yawn could be the early signs of hunger. Shifting through her worn bag neatly decorated with more feathers, she pulled out an odres, a popular item used to hold the blood of vertebrates. Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! After a few chugs, she gave a refreshing sigh. Those that are not familiar with the Bastãos, which seems to be a large percentage in this land, would think she's publicly consuming alcohol. Which is clearly not the case as her breath has not whiff of alcohol.

Many therians roamed the area, but not one was a Bastão. She was certain if there were more Bastãos, they'd have blood on the menu much like Brazil. On the other hand, she was thankful not to find human blood on the menu. If she knew this land accepted the cursed vampires, she'd have to tell mestre to purge this town, and any of the like. Breesh licked the rim of her odres while she keep entertaining herself of thoughts relating to this land and its culture. From the clothing people wear to their casual interactions, Breesh was truly an alien on this land.

She wondered how Ruul, the missing Bastão, and his family coped with this environment. Did they change their wardrobe or fought less among their family. Reaching for her feathery bag, she pulled out the picture again, staring at the young lad with short brown hair, light skin and freckles spread across his snout. His clothing was a blend between this modernized culture and their own; the colors were neutral which is popular among the Bastãos, but they were simple enough to be regarded as modern: a simple tee and rugged shorts.

"When is this desgraçado going to come out?" she muttered irritably.
Translation(s):
Bastão = Bat Beast
Odres = Wineskin
Mestre = Master
Bastard = Desgraçado
With
DarkNerd

 

[Nox Aeternae]

As Rose turned the page of her book she couldn't help but feel a slight niggling at the edge of her mind. It almost felt like she was being...watched. She attempted to ignore it, passing it off as just someone curious about her hair or something- that tended to happen wherever she went. But the feeling persisted. Finally, after several minutes of trying to ignore it, she looked up with a scowl. Oddly enough however, when she gazed around she didn't see anyone looking in her direction. Yet the feeling remained. It was beginning to unnerve her a bit.

Taking another sip of her tea and checking the time, she wondered if it wasn't time to leave. It was starting to get late and she still had things to do. One look around the coffee house told her other people were having the same thought, because it was really beginning to clear out. Only a few people still remained, including her, the barista and the woman who had ordered after her in line. Even the barista was beginning to clean up, a sure sign that the coffee house would be closing soon. So, with a barely audible sigh, Rose finished her tea and began to pack up her things in preparation to leave.

 

[DarkNerd]

The young barista, bit by bit, focused on cleaning up the equipment, stocking up beans, emptying out canisters of grounds, and other such tasks to help the morning shift prepare for their opening; he generally went above and beyond to assist his colleagues, even when it was an inconvenience to him and his life. Isra' was empathetic though some might have seen it as servile and medievally 'nice'-- absentminded kindness, unconscious service to others. As he went to work, he felt a strange sort of tension tug at him causing him to pause for a moment to break away from his tasks to gaze upon the patrons-- two remaining now. He caught the scowl of the red-head though it was not directed at him and the uncomfortable shifting of the other. He could not originate the source of the disturbance, redirecting his dark gaze back to the grill to catch the run-off from coffee. A hand rose up from his side to adjust blackened square frames when a strange vision of a being draped in fully black ran through his head-- causing him to look wide-eyed and up. A cold chill ran down his spine, causing him to shudder slightly.

He thought to himself, "What was that?"

The air about the *Bastãos* kicked about, eddies stirring about discarded leaves scattered across pavements from nearby trees. A strange, hollow wind carving through the cityscape, bleak and chilled, perhaps unnaturally so. The city also seemed unnaturally thin of crowds of people, nearly seeming like none were around.

A blackened cloaked figure from the distance appeared, one earlier from the rooftops (unbeknown to the others), too far to be made clear, the face obscured by the hood worn over their head. "Heh, who cares for a couple of mongrels anyway?" A hand raised from their side, raising to level to their shoulder before gloved fingers snapped. When they did, a blackened gate brimming with red electrical currents appeared nearby the figure's feet. Rising through the portal was a silhouette. As the figure materialized, it appeared to be that of a woman, wearing attire harked back from Victorian age though completely blackened. Her face was obscured by a mask with red bloody letters running down vertically in bold reading the word, "MARGARET". When her form finally materialized, the gate below her feet closed, revealing a groaning and hunched figure-- the same groaning heard earlier. "Black Margaret, retrieve the Signet Users. If the beasts get in your way, destroy them." The hooded figure phased from sight leaving behind the groaning woman whose face remained hidden behind the mask, hunched forward for a while.

Her figure was enveloped by tendrils of darkness, rising about from all sides of her, swallowing her whole before collapsing. The same sequence of tendrils would unravel, unveiling 'Margaret' close by the Bastão, revealing the eerily groaning figure in anachronistic attire, seemingly robbed of humanity. Her attention was focused towards the window of Red Stag in the interior, face directed towards the dark-skinned barista. She reeked of decay and had a smell other than that of a human. It soon became evident what she was as a frilled hand rose up, curling back the arm before swinging it out, causing a huge black arc of energy to fly out from her towards the establishment.

Meanwhile, Isra', who was mopping the floors nearby Lorette was distracted by spills and feet print happened to look up to see a large dark wave of energy flying towards them. Dark eyes widened behind blackened frames as he yelled to the two of the women, "Get down!", the sounds of glass shattering heard as the energy wave broke it easily flinging forth sharpened bits and pieces everywhere. The barista, who was nearby Lorette happened to grab her and shield her from the debris, using his body to guard her, feeling a few nicks and cuts created as the projectile glass scraped against his neck and parts of his arms. His eyes were clenched tightly as he hollered feeling the pain. Soon the chaos of glass ceased, dry, cold air spilling into the establishment.

Isra' peeled away from Lorette, turning around to see what happened, eyes widened to find a stranged-masked figure with the red lettering "MARGARET" standing by the now shattered window. It would not be long before she'd readied another attack, curling back her hand similarly as she did once before.