"I wasn' in love with him in the usual way. More of a brother sister thing, I think." The large woman across the table from him chirped. She had pale hair, and the low lights offered by the lamps illuminated the creases in her skin. He thought her nose was too big, her eyes too prominant. Pieces of hair escaped the leather thong she had tied it back in, swaying slightly in an unfelt breeze. He grunted disinterestedly, watching his almost-empty mug of foul smelling dark liquid. He hadn't really told the tavern maid what he wanted; something strong and cheap. Even though he hadn't really intended to spend any money on more alchohol he found himself sliding coin after coin into the womens palms. He had come in alone, exhausted and cold. And then immediately the woman swooped in on the free chair at his table and began the story he had only really been half listening to.
"Either way, we were through the forest and wouldn't you know it, I forgot the herbs. Just like me too. Shoulda seen it comin'."
He cringed unconsiously at her shrill bout of laughter, then offered his own anxious smile and took one last swig of his drink, already thinking of more. "No no no dearie, Lemme buy you another." She said, winking and clapping him on the shoulder. He groaned and caught himself weakly with the edge of the table, dislodging it from it's position and wondering just how much more he could keep down. The woman helped him settle back into an upright position and he slumped onto his elbows. The woman fell into a sort of silent trance staring at her own mug, and he realized she have had the same amount as him. He snorted laughter into his arm and considered falling asleep.
"Y'know," He mumbled into his sleeve, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the sour smell of his cloak. "I... I don't know where I live..."
He heard the woman laughing again, and decided he liked how his cloak muffled the sound. He held his hood over his ears while lifting his head again and rested his cheek against his palm, smiling awkwardly at the table. His eyes wanted to close. He wanted to drift. He didn't want to know what would happen if he fell asleep here. Would the woman sling him, unconsious over her shoulder and take him off to some remote part of the city and kill him? Perhaps just take his things and leave him to the will of whoever wanted him? His intoxicated mind jumped from one horrible situation to the other, and he sat up with a jolt when he noticed his eyes in fact had closed, almost shifting the table again. A dead weight kept it from moving at all, and it took him a moment to realize the woman across the table from him wasn't breathing. He inched his chair backwards, somewhat disgusted. He watched her for a moment, studying the shadows her mouth cast in the pool of saliva around it. He wondered if he should do something. White residue on the bottom of her mug caught his attention, and he very slowly picked it up, having to squint to focus his eyes. He swayed in his chair while he tried to decide whether or not someone had slipped something into his drink too.

The tavern was dark and gloomy in comparison to most nights... perhaps it was due to the bleak fog that had rolled in with the drizzling, cold rain. Velien didn't know or care. She enjoyed the change of pace, the dimmed violet lanterns, and the deep haze that cloaked most of the dark figures clustered around the bar. It felt more fitting a place for her to haunt than a brightly lit tavern full of song and cheer. The only music came from a drab-looking and gaunt man in the corner, woefully plucking on the strings of his lyre. There didn't seem to be any pattern to the notes being played, so spaced out and dully played.

She had rented a room for the day and had just woken from sleeping for almost all of the daylight hours. Sleeping during the day wasn't something required by her new vampiric nature. Sunlight didn't burn her like many would think. She just hated it.

Now she was hunting, staring at the baleful faces present from her shadowed corner. One of the many shadowy corners in the stuffy tavern. One woman's annoying voice had been louder than the other voices, making Velien dislike her immediately. She was drinking rather heavily and unconsciousness finally took her. Or so Velien thought. Either way she had finally shut up.

Then an acrid smell reached her sensitive nose and Velien knew that something much more insidious had happened to the woman. This picqued her interest and she stalked her way across the tavern common room to sidle next to the poisoned woman, who had been sitting across from a man, swaying from either too much booze or the acrid smelling poison most mortals couldn't even detect. Especially not in heavy smelling drinks like the one she had been guzzling.

She looked curiously at the man, then her eyes leaped to the the mug in his hands. "I wonder who wanted her dead?" Velien asked to no one in particular, but she was looking at the many whose face seemed to have paled with worry as he swayed. She had been careful to keep her voice low enough that their neighbors could not hear, knowing that eavesdroppers were common in Balefire.

It was out of pure curiousity Velien even seemed interested, but night after night of the same routine, lurking in the tavern, then feeding, then sleeping was getting dull. It seemed like it had been a very long time since she had actually spoken to anyone, and even though he was obviously drunk, she found it to be a good opportunity for her to re-enter humanity, if only for a short time. And if things went downhill, he could always provide an evening meal...

((Sorry if this is short, I'm exhausted.))

Feiori peered up at the woman after she spoke, squinting and leaning forward slightly to see her clearly through the dimness and the effects of alcohol. Very slowly, without taking his eyes from her, he lifted his hand to check that his hood was still up. A relieved breath escaped him briefly and he gave her a fleeting, somewhat crooked grin before turning his attention back to the mug. He dipped his forefinger into the residue he had been staring at and presented it to the woman. Despite his background, he had never really learned about substances such as this. The woman might know; and he wanted to know whether or not he was going to be in the same situation as the woman face-down on the table before him.

Something about her nagged at him, though he couldn't quite place why. Her stance seemed somehow calmer than any one elses in there, that he could see, and yet her willingness to simply approach a clearly drunk man sharing a table with a dead woman worried him. He leaned back slightly in his chair to get his arm in a better position to take up his weapon if there was need to. The long-bladed spear had fallen at some point throughout the course of his crinking, and he must not of noticed. It not being in his peripheral vision stole his breath momentarily, until he spotted it by his feet. Not what he would have preffered, but he thought he could still get it without falling off his chair and killing himself that way before anyone else managed to.