you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

She was drunk... again. Honestly though, what's new? The assassin had merely turned to drinking over the past few months, Vhalla hardly caring for anything. Perhaps one day she would destroy her kidneys enough and it would be an easy out, a death Ivan couldn't foresee and therefore he couldn't prevent her from doing her new favorite pastime. Truly, she was a wreck and the witch didn't care to piece herself back together, Vhalla having shattered into a million pieces and... she had simply let herself go. The woman hardly cared to feel anything anymore, finally accepting she was just another tool and she would never be free of Ivan. So, why care? She had fallen into such a pit, even when he sent her out for jobs, assassinations, escort services or to the god damn grocery store, she simply stopped feeling at some point.

She was already feeling tipsy, the woman having already had several glasses of wine at her warehouse apartment as she slowly makes her way down to her most frequent haunt. The run down, trashy bar on the west side as she finally pushes her way into the establishment. Immediately, icy eyes are drawn towards a pink haired woman and a... vampire with enormous fangs. There was no hiding what he was. Yet, her gaze hardly lingers as she makes her way to an empty bar stool, the bartender leaving from behind the bar to approach her, shaking his head "I told you, you need to take a break. You can't be here for awhile, especially the ruckus you made the other night," he says gruffly, folding his arms over his chest as he steps in her way. The witch stiffens her body, a glare flashing at the man in front of her. Vhalla pauses for a moment, debating on arguing and instead, she flashes him an almost disturbing smile as she lifts a shoulder in a shrug, "Fine, your drinks are shit anyways," she tells him before turning on a heel and exiting the bar.

As the cool air embraces her face, she pushes her free flowing white hair over her shoulder. A flash of anger touches her briefly before she stamps it out, god she didn't want to feel anything, even anger. She was going to drink enough to forget her own name tonight and since she couldn't do it here, she would go somewhere else, perhaps a finer establishment. Yes, that's exactly what she was going to do. Hailing a cab, she slips into the rank backseat, handing the driver a wad of cash, "Red in the Water," she grunts at him, folding her arms over her chest as they move through the city rather quickly, arriving at the bar before she knew it. Without thanking the man, she slips out and slams the door shut, Vhalla strutting towards the entrance and entering the bar.

She hardly gives the fine establishment a second glance as she moves towards those nice bar seats, stripping her black leather jacket off and slinging it over the chair lazily revealing a fitted white T-shirt. Vhalla hardly wearing anything more than black and white, truly she didn't think she had much of anything in that closet of hers except for that. Even her shoes had become limited as she simply choose to wear those black boots that easily hid a dagger in both, though she hardly carried them around anymore. It went back to the whole not caring thing and chancing death, you know, such thoughts that plagued her mind these days. Hence, the drinking.

Sliding into that comfortable chair, she doesn't give it a second thought as she waves the bartender down and immediately orders a set of three shots, already slipping cash onto the counter. The woman doesn't hesitate as she's sliding that amber liquid in front of Vhalla, the assassin doesn't prolong her desires as she tilts her head back and takes shot after shot, waiting for the alcohol to settle into her bloodstream. It hardly takes long before she's feeling it more, Vhal continuing to order another set of shots before finally asking, or more like demanding, a top shelf whiskey. The assassin was at least smart enough to drink the cheap stuff first to get drunk before she moved onto the expensive bottles. Now, she's thoroughly drunk, the woman bleary eyed and finally managing to drown her sorrows as she sips on that glorious drink.

In the midst of her drinking, a gentleman had joined her at the counter a few seats away and the assassin was drunk enough to slip out of her seat, drink in hand and mosey on down towards the dark haired man. Slinging an arm around his shoulder, with no regard to personal space, "What're you working on?" She drunkenly asks, a wide grin stretched across her lips. She doesn't know this man and yet, she doesn't care. Removing her arm from his shoulder, she blinks down at his sketchbook before gaining the attention of the bartender, "Get him another drink," she demands, looking at him once more before sliding into the seat next to him, "Drink with me, I have too much money and nothing and no one to spend it on."

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered