In The Eyes Of The Beholder (Ringabel)

Eternal, unending night. A world constantly blanketed in darkness. The only source of light coming from the various buildings and lamposts. This was the place Grima found itself in upon it's revival, still in the vessel Robin's body. It had been weakned once more, something that bothered the fell dragon to no end. However.... this place was an example. Most of it's populace had lost their homes. They lived here now in despair, dealing with that loss. It was as all places should be. Every inch it had seen was like this... but one spot. The towns cafe-from what she had seen it was where the 'cheerful' migrated. It held true from her view, would have to fix that soon enough. For now s
It would simply... scope it out. Whether they defied their despair through strengh of will, or foolish resolve-It desired an answer. It's steps took into ibto the cafe, yes. But all that was seen when it did were fools. Fools and weaklings.

Not a one, they were all pathetic, all were useless. The Fellbloods paitence began to run thin almost as quick as it began.

Slowly a single hand was raised in the air, but nothing came of it. It stood there-like a calm before the storm. Like an animal ready to charge.

Though to the surrounding people? It was likely to look like something entirely different. That was fine. If she wasn't satisfied soon... they would be gone anyway.

As he sat there in the corner, choking down the sugar-water the cafe mistook for coffee, Ringabel couldn’t help but be drawn to the entity that entered the otherwise deserted confine. Adorned in the darker shades of garmentry, she looked like a night out on the town. Ringabel was intrigued.

The waitress appointed the lady to her table. Ringabel left his.

He would join her, he decided. And if she asked, he’d say he was looking for some information on...on...Ringabel blinked, eyeing the plain hairstyle on the mistress’s head. Ah, yes! He was looking for some information on the hairstyles of pretty brunettes.

“This seat taken?” Ringabel didn’t stop to hear an answer. He just slide into the chair and smiled broadly at his admiree. “I saw you from across the room and wondered what a pretty dear like you was doing in a rustic old cave like this. Come here often? For...the company of others, perhaps?”

To most, the energy of the place would be addicting. But not to Grima. The dragonkin saw no value in their useless and petty games. However still it allowed itself to be guided to a table, if only to observe the bars patrons. Their was a chance that among the the many ants was an eater-and ot just woudn't do to burn it with the rest.

And so there she sat, when the waitress asked her for an order a simple 'no' was the answer. To which the woman seemed to assume she simply wasn't ready yet, or perhaps more likely assumed she was with the patron coming forth just behind her. A patron who had the gall to take the sit just in front of her. Indeed it was not bravery that caused such things but instead human desire or such is the message his honeyed words conveyed. He found the dragon's vessel applealing. Unfourtnate, it wasn't in the best mood for dealing with vermin. Still..... looks could be deciving, Grima's victims could attest to that fact.

"I came here... to see just how far down the pole idoicy goes, I can see it has no bounds..."

Company? Grima had no need of such things. Tools to sure, to quicken her assent back to her proper place. But company? Never.

"Company? Aside from your form I do doubt anyone else would come I am not always... the nicest of girls"

Games-it could play games. Games and leading mice to a trap. The waitress came back with a drink, water. Probaly figured it needed water-humans often did. She held the glass in her gloved hand, tilting it back and forth for effect.
Indeed it was a better mousetrap, more than anything for a fool like the one before her.