Welcome to the Peaceful Promenade! This thread is open to all. Feel free to bring your characters in, out of the storm. You are welcome to use the named NPCs, William and Jozie, within reason. Please be advised, bunnying is discouraged in this thread, even with the writer's permission. This is to encourage real-time interaction between new and old players. Have fun!
The rain drummed on the windowpane, a calming, and strangely memorizing staccato. The drops streaked across the glass, leaving slick, criss-crossing paths in their wake. They shimmered like diamonds with each flash of lightning, the electric fingers of the heavens brightening the otherwise darkened town. Then came the thunder. Before, it had rumbled shyly, like the murmuring of gossip among polite circles. This time, however, it boomed like the burst of an Alerian flintlock rifle.

Startled by mother nature's sudden outburst, a mousy brunette woman tumbled away from the window. "Gods," Rayleigh exclaimed, right hand pressing hard against her racing heart.

She was answered by high peels of laughter, wafting across the otherwise empty tavern. "Its like you've never heard thunder before," a pretty blonde finally quipped between fading giggles. She appeared to be in her late teens, and was dressed in a simple blue dress that held faint stains of years of tavern work. Expertly, and without even watching her work, Jozie the barmaid ran a cloth over a damp, newly washed copper tankard. Her doe-eyes remained fixed to the still trembling Rayleigh, her salmon lips pulled back in a broad grin.

The mechanic scowled back, though her emerald gaze revealed the humor she herself found in the situation. "William," she whined as a third figure entered the room, "your daughter is being mean to me. I am a patron, you know. I shouldn't have to put up with this sort of treatment."

With a gentleness that contradicted his burly appearance, the man stored the bottles he had retrieved from the back room. His smile, though hidden by a thick mustache, was plain in his gruff voice. "Miss Aston," came the rejoinder, "you must buy something to be considered a patron." When she opened her mouth to argue, he raised a hand. "Joking, of course. As long as you're keeping my Jozie in line, your drinks are on the house. The water you drink doesn't cost much anyway."

Rayleigh shrugged, before motioning to the bare tavern. "No one here to drink with anyway." Besides, she was not one to abuse the gracious offer the owner had made her in exchange for her friendship with his trouble-seeking child.

"Just wait," William assured her, nodding toward the closed door. "The storm will bring them in."