She was ready for a great many things. She was ready to see the darkened corners of the vast room, the round tables littered throughout, and the flickering of fire-light casting dancing shades to the exposed rafters above. All of these things, they were memories that had been burned into her mind long ago. But the thing that she wasn’t ready for was the immense sense of familiarity that struck her. She had never before set foot in this building, and yet this setting felt intimately known so much so that the sensation of [i]knowing this place[/i] caused her to pause. 

For a time, perhaps a heartbeat or two, she stood there letting the cool night air run rampant into the nooks and crannies of the tavern’s interior. She got a few looks – unamused and displeased looks that made her finish her journey across the threshold. She figured there was time enough to marvel at the timelessness of the place once she was safely inside, but the silly girl did not step beyond the walking path that lead to the main entrance and so, as she stood there taking in the measure of it all – the door open behind her. 

A swift sidestep kept her from being shoved aside and it revealed the woman’s agility – a trait she would have rather kept secret for as long as possible. But no one had eyes on her, or so she thought, and no one would care enough to deeply examine this near catastrophe of two bodies colliding. 

She stood to the side and allowed her eyes to follow the path of the massive creature that had entered the tavern at her heels. Dressed in a similar style, a hooded cloak that looked to be damp to the touch, she lost interest soon enough. He headed to the bar, which was the same destination she had thought to take, but she thought better of it now. That creature alone seemed to crowd out the limited space at the bar, it was best to stay clear out of the way. 

[i]“Rum, and bring me the bottle,”[/i] she heard him bark out at the clerk behind the bar just as she turned back to examine the room. 

There was ample seating it was just a matter of picking a place. Most people coveted the shadows, and she was no different, but tonight she was incognito and the lonely table by the open hearth seemed an isolated island that would keep her safe from any social interaction. 

Little did she know she was being observed – and carefully so. 

To the table she went, where again she stopped for a beat or two. This time her eyes were searching the surroundings, rather she was observing the fire – and listening. With her back to the entrance, her hearing was hyper-focused on the sound of the door opening and closing again. The night rushed in, but this time was perfumed by the smell of potent fule – sickly sweet – like refined alcohol. And there was something else.
[i]
Blood. 
[/i]
She pulled out a chair and adjusted her cloak, but never removed it. Gabriela sat down, her back still turned to the entrance, a silly oversight for someone who knew anything about protecting themselves. But she knew what she was doing. She was playing a part. 

She had to appear as that which she was not – weak. 

Under the table her legs crossed, one booted knee over the other, which caused her cloak to open just enough to reveal the knee-high riding boots, the skin-tight black breeches, and nothing else. She reached up and bit at the tip of her gloved middle finger and pulled until the leather sheath came free of her pale hands. And when one was free, she used her long fingers to free her other hand. Notable, to anyone who was studying the woman, would be her glass-like fingernails. There was a shine to them that was more than what a mere polish could ever produce.

A woman approached, a member of the tavern’s staff. 

Gabriela was not alarmed. 

[i]“You ready to order?” [/i]asked the girl – she was neither cheerful, nor did she appear friendly, but she was efficient. There was a notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other. With sharp and cold blue eyes, the woman regarded Gabriela with an unmistakable sense of impatience. 

Gabriela thought of ordering bloodwyne – and it made her smile. 

That smile was astonishingly lovely. The way her pale lips pulled at the corners – the way it was so small and private as if someone had whispered a silly thing to her. It was a smile of remembrance. It was also the sort of smile meant to disarm prey -- to tempt into perdition. 

But she couldn’t risk that here. 

A [i]vast[/i] majority of people did not take kindly to vampyres in their midst. 

“A cup of tea,” she replied, her voice licked with the purr of an accent – Spanish if anyone was familiar. 

[i]“What kind?”[/i]

“Orange blossom,” Gabriela replied, setting her gloves on her knee.

[i]“Lady,”[/i] the girl began with barely contained disdain, [i]“--we don’t have orange blossom tea here.”[/i]

“Black tea,” she said, tilting her head toward the girl, lifting her chin enough so that a crease of light touched her face – Gabriela’s golden eyes fell hard on the youth. “Black tea and a slice of lemon with honey, would be lovely, thank you.”

The young woman scribbled the order and turned to flee.

Gabriela understood her discomfort.

It had been a long time since she had spent any real amount of time around humans who did not know her – who did not love her. The woman’s reaction was a natural inclination toward survival. Gabriela was a predator, and some people were simply more aware of that than others. 

Just then, as she was beginning to reflect on the difficulties of traveling across this new world, a voice called across the tavern.

[i]“Is there by chance a medic or doctor in the house tonight? One preferably not yet inebriated. This lady here could use your assistance.”[/i]

She had turned slightly, lifting her gaze to the second floor of the building, which she had apparently not noticed – somehow. She saw the outline of a couple. That’s where the smell of blood was coming from – blood and fuel. Without further regard, she turned her golden gaze back upon the fire, although she saw, from the corner of her eye, a man looking at her with interest. It made her uncomfortable. In some places, vampyres were hunted down and their blood harvested for medicinal purposes or just for recreational use. A drop of her black blood could have anyone right as rain but also high off their asses. 

Best not to think about any of those possibilities. 

Best not to think at all…

She sat, straight-backed and with her hands folded over her lap, and watched the fire.