<div class="floatleft">(http://i39.tinypic.com/2cs8hew.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">Elise Mauvais</span></em></span><br/>Murphy's Tavern; Outside<br/>Day 0, Night<br/>Tagged: Todd Williams<br/><br/><br/><hr/>Tip-toeing oh-so-silently atop the roof of Murphy's Tavern was a very peculiar sight, though it was one for no one to behold due to the drunken stupor of all bellow and the silence of the surrounding town. The light skin on her arms, face and bare back glowed in the moonlight, dark hues of and around her eyes making the girl seem almost like an apparition. Lace was all that covered the thin body as it continued to twirl and swirl upon the very tip of that roof with no concern for the ground so far bellow. So balanced, so precise in her movements; not a single flaw in what seemed like a ballerina's step. How was that possible? How did she even get up there? It's not like anyone was asking these questions, no, for they could not see her. Oh, but what a graceful sight that would have been, no? For the moment anyway.<br/><br/>Then, senses flared, hair ruffling under nonexistant winds. Her nose twitched, eyes darkened. A deep, deep breath. Yes, what a smell, what a lovely smell indeed. But where from? There. A farm, further off towards the town. Too curios a girl was she not to investigate, or, rather, hope that there was something left for her. Pressing a foot forward on the edge of her little rooftop dwelling, she suddenly found the dirt below her soft, black heels, footsteps unseen as she walked, quite leisurely, to the outskirts of the farm.<br/><br/><em>"Où êtes-vous mon petit monstre?"</em><br/><br/>Step by step she crept forward, to the side of the small farmhouse, peeking in through what she believe was the kitchen window.<br/><br/><em>"Quelle honte! Oh, it seems I'm too late. Tch. So alluring yet so unsatisfying."</em>Sucking softly at her right canine, the girl continued to peer in at the grotesque image inside, unable to help herself from pressing her nose softly to the glass, teeth dipping into her bottom lip. Whoever had paid this family a visit must have greatly enjoyed himself. After a few moments she let out a wistful sigh and turned, choosing to make her way back to the Tavern. There was nothing she could do- she was not one to mess with a good thing- so she chose to suppress her lust and return to her dance atop the tavern, wondering if the teen inside ever heard her movements.<br/><br/><hr/>Murphy's Tavern; Fireplace<br/>Day 1, 6:25<br/><br/>Leaned against the wall with a book in her lap and a wine glass in her left hand, Elise Mauvais allowed her eyes and mind to wander about the room, having lost interest in her reading, now craving some attention. The dark liquid in her glass moved as her wrist slowly twisted, plump dark lips shaping the words to an old French lullaby. Why was this place so dull right now?<br/><br/>Outside, she could hear the sound of tire over dirt and gravel, tar, and back to dirt. She knew exactly where the officer was headed, allowing a feint smile to waiver upon her lips. But she forced the thought out of her mind. Why dream of what you can't have, right? If she had been so inclined she could have finished shredding those poor souls last night, but she just wasn't that type of girl, and she wasn't about to start being one.<br/><br/>A distraction, that was what she needed. There, a man, sitting lonesome at a table, studying his menu. Who might this be? A discreet sniff of the air answered 'what' he might be, causing a quite laugh to bubble up from the depth's of her throat. What could this little witch be doing all the way out here?<br/><br/><em>"You're a little far from home, are you not, mon cher?"</em>Deep eyes flickered over him, not particularly caring if her voice had been heard. Of course, who knew if he could tell her from the rest of the flock-probably not.<em>"I've never seen you in these parts."</em>Three-hundred years had made her accent very slight, almost so that one had to listen for it to actually hear it. Her voice flowed dramatically and fluidly, quite enticing to the untrained ear, quite a trick to the understanding mind.<br/><br/>She stood from her spot, flattening out the dark lace that just barely stretched down her thighs. The matching, thin robe cover her back and arms, resting slightly lower than the dress, but a great bit more translucent. Regardless of how hard she tried, the entwining design could never shake her grasp; one could drop dead before seeing her in a pair of jeans (quite a laugh would have resulted, had she thought this in that exact moment). Replacing the glass of dark liquid to her right hand, it was held just below the rim by her fingertips as she walked across the room, in no hurry to refill her glass, or wait for an answer from the man, for that matter. At the bar, she picked up the green-glassed bottle that awaited her, dipping the lip forward, allowing its remnants to pool in her empty glass. She then brought that lip to her own, taking up the last few drops that rested there.<br/><br/><em>"Exquis,"</em>she murmured as the glass found its way back to the bar top. She turned once more, and leaned back, almost oblivious to the fact that she had even tried to make conversation with anyone else as she began, once more, to softly sing that old lullaby.