She sat perfectly still as abuse was hurled upon her. Her eyes, wide and depthless, regarded the woman as she spat forth her venom.

[i]“No need. I wouldn’t accept help from an arrogant leech such as you anyways.”[/i]

Usually, it took most people at least a little bit of warming up before they revealed their deeply held [i]prejudices[/i]. That certainly wasn’t the case with Alex. And Gabriela, who had been minding her own business, was now at the center of this stranger's angry tirade. She had to break her stare, to glance outward toward the quickly filling tavern -- had anyone heard? 

More importantly, perhaps, did anyone care…

She was well aware that she had every right to be upset, after all, what could she possibly have done to Alex to deserve this abuse? Therefore, Gabriela assured herself that her own feelings were valid, even if they did not please her current company.

[i]“You, boy. Go to the man at the bar and ask him to get you garlic, onion, a bottle or something strong, and some clean cloth. Got that?”[/i]

She arched a brow -- and somehow she had been proclaimed to be arrogant? 

Talking to people like [i]this[/i] was no way to get help.

But just then the woman turned, perhaps in the direction that she meant to flee, and Gabriela’s golden eyes focused on the dried panels of her braid. Dark stains of blood had soaked into her hair, and from this position, she could see the brown-red blood that had dried along the woman’s neck, and at the collar of her shirt.

She is badly hurt…

But the woman was gone now and no amount of remorse would bring her back. 

For a brief moment, Gabriela considered going after her. Based on the grocery list of materials she had requested from the young man, she truly held little hope that the woman would survive -- but then again, Alex had seemed rather competent. 

Alone, and left to her own devices, she glanced down and made a quick mental note of her available supplies. There was her teacup, sitting pretty and untouched upon its saucer, there was also the sugar bowl and the small cream jar. 

“I know I am going to regret this,” she mumbled to herself as she turned her attention to the task at hand. 

She plucked the sugar bowl up and dumped mostly all of its content out into her teacup, turning it into a syrupy drink that no one would ever want to drink. With nothing but half a tablespoon of sugar left in the bowl, she reached up and ran the very tip of her finger across a dainty, but sharp, incisor. The pain was felt -- sharp, cold, sudden -- but forgotten just as quickly. Glancing at her finger, Gabriela watched the way her black blood came to the surface. It was a perfect droplet of obsidian, which she flipped over and dropped into the sugar bowl. Her black blood made a flower-like design in the sugar-lined bottom of the bowl before soaking into the sweet grains. Next, she took the milk jug and poured a few tablespoons into the blood and sugar concoction. It didn’t take any stirring to dissolve -- her blood had a tendency to smooth things out rather quickly, and so sugar melted into the cool milk, and the liquid took on a dark gray hue. 

It hardly looked appetizing. 

By that point, the young knight had returned but his lady in distress had gone away.

“She went upstairs,” Gabriela explained to the young man, who still appeared rather enthused to help -- a trait she did not share or envy. 

“Can you please give her this?” she held out the small milk jug with her sweet elixir within, “...please tell her to drink it, if she so pleases. I suspect she’ll know what it is. Tell her it will make her feel like she consumed poison, but it will help.”

[i]At a cost[/i] -- Gabriela thought to herself.

All the gifts that came with vampyric blood came bound to a steep price. And when it came to matters of accelerated healing -- well, human bodies were simply not supposed to heal like vampyres. So while the processes would prove to be successful, and would leave Alex good as new, and perhaps even a little better for a short time -- it was going to hurt like high hell. 

But her part in this was done and she could do no more. She could not ensure that the young man would give the hurt woman the healing potion, and she could not go for herself to ensure it was taken. She wanted it to be out of her hands. She didn’t want any responsibility over anybody’s life -- not ever again.

And just then, as she meant to sit back in her chair and spoon the sickly-sweet tea she had just made -- which was cold by now -- she caught a flash of red. It was the feeling of a sudden drop that caused her stomach to churn and her breath to catch in her throat like a harsh inhalation through a sore passage. But it was the red, bright and flashy, lined in black and adorned with golden buttons -- it was the details that made her think the devil had found her. 

A twirl, a masterful display of fashion walking and posing, lead to the newly arrived man to pull his red coat off and hang it by the door. The sudden fear that had gripped her melted away, but not without leaving chills in the joints of her bones. The tension had been so sudden that she hardly noticed that she had balled up her fists and that her pretty nails had dug deep into the palms of her hands. Blood slipped through her fingers, and she seemed surprised by the momentary loss of control. 

[i]“This isn’t the Firebrand at all. Where the hell…”[/i] she heard him call out.

She dropped her golden gaze and focused on cleaning up the mess she had made. Her blood looked like spilled black ink across her pale skin. With a napkin, she wiped it away.

[i]“HEY. I DESIRE A MENU.”[/i]

While she was no longer watching him -- it was particularly hard not to follow the sound of his voice, especially not when he was yelling at the tavern staff. She dared one more glance in his direction before focusing on the task of cleaning her fingers.

[i]“You’re pretty.”[/i]

A child had come up to her -- a pretty little girl with big curious eyes. 

“Thank you,” Gabriela replied, but her eyes glanced past the girl to see who was attending to her -- surely this was no place for a child. She suddenly saw the careful and protective glance of the giant of a man who had entered the tavern earlier. He was watching them like a hawk. She was able to distinguish the look of a loving and protective parent. Satisfied that the child was not alone, she turned her attention back to Ruka, “--you are very pretty as well.”

[i]“Wanna dance with me?” [/i]

A frown touched Gabriela’s face -- she looked confused.

“Dance, child?”

[i]“Whenever I’m excited, or mad, or sad, I dance away my troubles.”[/i]

And then the child was gone -- twirling away on the balls of her feet like a ballerina. She wove in and out of the crowd until Gabriela could no longer see her. And still, she wore that look of worried concern and that look that touched on confusion.

“This is a strange place…” she said aloud, again just a mumble to her own self.


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