The night was getting on, yet the people inside the Withering Rose carried on with the same merriment they had at the beginning of the night. Ronar again had found himself stumbling through Alvadas's streets on his own a few hours ago, and by chance had come across the Withering Rose. He had never ventured into the Rose before as it had a deep, dark feel to it. This feeling had previously turned Ronar away, but now, after he had reminded himself his taste for blood, he no longer felt pushed away by the atmosphere.
This night had been the first in a few days were Ronar had felt the need to go on a wander. Overall he was feeling more calm now, less agitated by the world around him. He was relatively more peaceful after the murder.
He had came into the Withering Rose and had been seated by the waitress. That was several hours, and three and a half glasses of wine later. Ronar was now sat, sulkily on his own staring into the red liquid in the glass he held loosely in his right hand. The Rose was all very nice and cultured, but it lacked the violence and brutality the Wolf's Cave had, and so was not quite enough for Ronar. He needed something to happen, he was bored. The liquid he was pouring down his neck was fruity and romantic and held a slight burn in his throat, which suited the atmosphere of the Rose. Something was still missing though, which Ronar again, could not put his finger on.
Looking up from the glass, Ronar watched a tall blond woman enter and be led by the waitress to an empty table. She paused, then seated herself. Ronar grinned slightly, this woman looked lost, bewildered by the city. Perhaps he should pay her a visit? The woman looked up to the waitress and placed an order. In doing so, Ronar had caught a glimpse of her teeth, sharp and pointed.
Great, another Kelvic. Why is such a creature here? Surely she should be in the Wolf's Cave with the other animals.
Swallowing down the remainder of the wine in his glass Ronar swung his legs around to the side and stood up with an attempt at an authoritative effect. However, the now four glasses of wine Ronar had drank had taken more of an effect than he had anticipated, so all he had managed to do while trying to stand up was trip over own feet and almost fall over, saving himself only by placing his hand on the seat behind him now.
You never know how drunk you are until you stand up! Now remain calm, make it look purposeful!
With this thought Ronar proceeded to fumble with his shoe, but he was fooling no one. Quite a few people were sniggering at him and the waitress was shooting him a warning glare to behave.
Composing himself once more, he raised from his kneeling position and began to walk toward the Kelvic sat a number of tables away. The only thing he could focus on was getting one foot in front of the other to keep him moving. Reaching the table on this idea, Ronar began to think of a way in which he could sit down with a reasonable elegance. The last time he was drunk in a bar and decided to talk to a stranger, he had ended up in a fight with a gang of burly men, he hoped the same would not happen again.
Pulling a spare chair from another table, much to the disapproval of the people eating there, Ronar sat at the Kelvic's table. He sat with the back of the chair to his front, spreading his legs around the side and resting his head on his arms, which were rested on the top of the back of the chair.
"How do, my good friend?"
His words were mumbled and came out in more of a slurred single word than was intended. Going along with it, Ronar extended his hand out for the girl to shake.
"You look lost girl, can I help you?"