Walking out of her house, slamming the door behind her, Elizabeth Silvershield took out a small package from her bag, walking away from her humble house, her electric blue eyes focused on the little cardboard box in her hands. Cigarettes. Had she really fallen so low as to try to even start smoking. She had heard that it helped a person find relief from stress, escape from it, in a sense, but, still, could it help a person like Elizabeth? Could it help someone that was running away from insanity, to forget about it? She had to try. It would soon turn into a bad habit; if she got used to it, but she had to try. Everything to take away her attention from the stupid thoughts about destruction and murder was welcome. Calmly walking through the dark, silent streets of Era, Elizabeth slid the cardboard box back inside her bag, her eyes looking around the scene. It was in the middle of the week, and midnight was nearing, so the streets, unlike in any weekend, were completely desert; for people had to wake early and go to work. Those that had a certain time in which they were supposed to show up at work were unlucky; Elizabeth, on the other hand, was incredibly lucky. Even perhaps insanely lucky. She could show up whenever she wanted, and only had to make sure to be in the Rune Knights headquarters if there was an emergency.
Which was why she could permit herself the luxury of going out, past midnight, in the middle of the week. Without worrying for bosses yelling at her, without worrying if she'd wake up in time for work. She'd anyways end up sleeping in; so why not waste the night wisely? It was a perfect plan; spend the night in a rather fancy bar/discotheque, go back home late, or rather early, and sleep in, something she'd do anyways. She missed having fun; it was a lot since she last had went out to dedicate time to having fun. Perhaps she could not do it anymore? Before she was used to spending every night out, on parties. But that was before; when she wasn't a giant, hostile ice block, that would not let anyone near her, much less speak to her. That was her defensive mechanism against strangers, that had as an objective to avoid having people near her, and protect them from her. She was a walking bomb with a timer: and when she'd snap was unclear, hence why she tried keeping people away from her at all cost. She wanted to protect people from the beast she hid within her, and that required her staying away from people.
But, she too missed fun. She missed the music, she missed the men, she missed everything. She had it clear, that, as a Master of Shadows, she could not permit herself to dedicate her priceless time on such mundane things as going to parties, or flirting even, but she still missed it. She wanted to try and have a taste of her previous life, remember what it was in those careless days, in which the only thing that haunted her, were the memories of the past. Not the demons of the future, only the memories of a past she wanted to erase. Was it possible, though? To forget a past as complex and dark as hers? The shadows kept whispering to her her sins, telling her how all suffering would end if she gave in to the shadows, if she let herself fall in the hands of insanity at last, and meet the same fate as Zed, her master. It was not that painful, anyways, right? He died an old man, he lived a life he loved. A lot of destruction was involved in that life, but he was happy, at least, right...?
Shaking her head, she sighed. She needed a drink. Without doubt. Although she had promised to stop thinking about her problems, they kept going back to her. They kept haunting her mercilessly, taking her attention away from the plans she had for the night. Pitiful. Turning on her heels, her red dress slightly shaking as she did that, she headed towards the nearest fancy bar she knew, her electric blue eyes adopting the usual look of "Don't near me if you love your life.", an air of supperiority and hatred around her, as she walked. Poor whoever decided to near her. Although she looked like an innocent, Eighteen years old, that wore a skin tight dress that accentuated her curves too well, that could do no harm, Elizabeth was ready to slit someone's throat in a second if something she did not approve of was done to her. Hopefully all would notice that. And not near her.
It was a shame that she did not know what fate had planned for her. Apparently, leaving her alone for one night was too much.
The music of the bar filled her ears, invading her from every corner. The latest hits were blasting on the gigantic speakers in the bar, people sitting together, chatting, discussing the song, or things that had recently happened in their lives. The typical bar, only that it looked better, and thus, the prices were higher. It was not like their drinks were bad. The price was worth, considering the environment, and the quality. Some humans simply knew how to make things right. Heading towards the bar, the sound of her heels clashing against the ground beneath her muffled by the loud music. Without hesitating, the red head sat on one of the higher chairs, her bag neatly placed on her legs as she did that, eyes focused on the bottles of drinks before her. What did she want? Something strong, in order to get drunk and forget her issues? Or something softer, in order to distract herself, or just, have a drink as she considered things. What was better? Eh. Give me a glass of your finest whiskey.
Her voice and tone were hostile, as per usual; her eyes with the same icy stare in them, making anyone who dared look at her in the eye reconsider their choice. She had promised herself to have fun: and yet she had ended like before. For all she knew, she could have came in the armor, if she knew she'd have no progress, no change. How annoying. The barman, poor man, turned on his heels, quickly pouring the liquid asked for from Elizabeth in a glass with ice, handed it to her with shaky hands, muttering a There you go, ma'am. She had scared him, ha. How cowardly humanity had turned. The only truely brave were those who risked their lives in the battlefield for their country. And those here? The townsfolk were simple humans that got scared by the slightest show of hostility from anyone else. How pitiful.
Bringing the glass to her lips, the red-head glanced to the empty seat on her left, praying that no chatterbox, nobody that would even try to talk to her, would come and occupy it. She hoped nobody would near her. She wanted to be alone, with her whiskey, with her thoughts, she wanted to forget. It was a true shame that fate did not have planned to let her biggest desire at the moment to come true.