Apathy Elemental
EXP: 114,186, Level: 14
Level completed: 68%,
EXP required for next Level: 4,814
My fingers were wrapped around the bottom of my mask, pushed halfway up my face so I could drink from the glass without spilling everything everywhere when I heard the telltale click of the door opening, followed by the downpour outside for several seconds before a second click sounded.
Setting my drink back on the table and sliding my face back in place, I saw the tavern's new arrival. A woman, soaked to the bone, her platinum hair a mottled mess as lingering drops of rain cascaded down her locks. She was tall, tan, and shapely--her curves accentuated by the drenched silks that clung to her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. The visitor had a sort of lost and confused look on her face as her eyes scanned the tavern.
Had this been any other night at the tavern, all activity would've stopped while everything with a penis basked in her glory and scanned every inch of her body with greedy, lustful eyes.
But since it was just me, I just sorta... returned to my drink and dove back into my book. The barkeep must've been married, and probably suspected his wife had superhuman intuition with how quickly he returned to polishing glasses.
I got about two paragraphs and a bit of dialogue further before I heard the woman ask me a question. Before I could turn and respond with some quality Madison snark, I felt an odd sensation that completely made me lose my train of thought. Two warm, soft, fleshy mounds were pressed against my shoulder and neck. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the mysterious lady reach around for my beer. But instead of pulling away to drink it, she leaned in even further, nearly doubling me over the surface of the table.
Now... Several months ago? I would've crushed every bone in her arm before her spidery fingers could've wrapped themselves around the mug. I would've burst from my chair in a cloud of acid, plague, and vines and torn her limb from rapidly melting and bubbling and smoking limb. I would've feasted on her remains and left the mess for the barkeep to clean up--assuming he hadn't already scurried away to find a new pair of underwear to replace his freshly-filled set.
But instead of all that, I just sorta... sat there and took it. Like a house cat that clearly doesn't want to be pet, but just understands that this is its ultimate fate and has learned to accept it.
Death and a prolonged revival sure mellowed the shit out of me, apparently.
The words dripped off my tongue slow and flat. "Uhh... Can I... help you?"
Her reply was swift and unsure as she set the mug back down, clearly surprised and dissatisfied with the local brew. "Not food?"
I blinked. Twice. Three times. The rain continued to pound on the roof over our heads. Outside, the winds picked up slightly, signaling that this was going to be an even longer night than planned.
"N-no, sweetie," I managed to blurt out after a moment. "That's beer."
I still hadn't turned around. Still couldn't, to be more accurate. Her chest was still glued to the back of my head.
Decided I should probably change that somehow. "Do you need food or something?" I'm pretty sure the barkeep saw the quiet desperation in each of my four glowing amber eyes. "Jack, could I get a couple sandwiches over here, please?"
The way I saw it, the blonde could've used every little bit of help she could get. Especially if she was confusing beer for food. No, of course it's not food, girl; this is a different kind of nourishment. One for the spirit, not the body. If she didn't know that--despite looking like she was of age at a first glance--then hoooooo boy. Amnesiac? Maybe just fresh off the boat and a little too innocent? Possessed, maybe?
So long as she got her knockers off me before I started to cry, I could deal with whatever.