<div class="floatright">(http://www.infinitelibraries.com/images/Elli/Kiva.jpg)<br/>Kiva (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=280528.msg13792246#msg13792246)</div><br/>Another day, another opportunity to be respectable. Kiva had told herself that that morning, long before she had reached Waterdeep. Oh, she'd heard of it. People told stories, half of which Kiva didn't believe. Actually being inside it's walls, walking about, looking at this and that and, for once, not being the strangest thing walking the streets - perhaps some of the stories they told about this place were true after all - before her empty stomach and bordering on empty purse reminded her that she hadn't come here idly; she needed work. Posters advertised work; the most promising she found, she snatched off its nails and took with her, reading it carefully before stuffing it in a pocket and heading purposefully to the suggested location.<br/><br/>The first suggestion she had found the right place was the animal with the confusing sign draped over it. Donut steel? Was that some new kind of alloy? And what was 'explosives'? Kiva scratched her head a moment before shrugging and walking by. It was weird, but unlike the uneasy donkey, not threatening; Kiva gave the animal a wide berth as she approached the door, heaving it open with, perhaps a fraction more force than was really necessary. The door didn't quite bounce off the far wall, but Kiva's motion to catch it still produced an audible sound, earning a sigh from the tall woman now framed in the doorway. Her features weren't easily made out, past the hood draped in odd folds over her head, but she seemed normal enough, until she removed it, revealing a set of curled rams-horns and the somewhat distinctive appearance of one of the plane-touched.<br/><br/>Kiva closed the door behind herself and took a deep breath. This was usually where someone told her they didn't serve riff-raff, or her kind weren't welcome, or ... she approached the bar anyway, relaxing a fraction when she realized one of the other patrons was even a little stranger than she was, and had yet to be thrown out. Well and good, then; she could hope for a hot meal. "Ale, please. And a bowl of whatever I can smell cooking." A big bowl, she can hope, but probably not. No one ever seems to realise that she eats more than a human, and she's never bothered to work out why she always seems to be hungry.... she fishes a few coins out, checks them, then sets them delicately on the bar.