||[Jan. 1st, 2005|11:46 am]
The Lounge - closed for business
Open to anyone.
Aura walked quietly down the streets of the city, snow falling around her, the flakes being harried by the sharp gusts of wind that skittered here and there. Around her, people hurried from one place to another, huddled into heavy winter coats, hoods pulled up, heads down. The snow drifted down to the pavement where it quickly joined that half melted slush that lined the gutters and was kicked up by tires of passing vehicles.
She herself walked with her coat open and hood down, unmindful of the bitter wind. Shoulder length dark hair moved about her pale face, and striking gold eyes watched the world move around her. She did this quite often, wandering the streets. It was one of the few things that kept her occupied in this world, watching the masses of humanity scuttle here and there like ants. Gazing up through the harsh street lights, she frowned. Nothing about this world satisfied her. Hell, she couldn't even see the stars most of the time. It seemed to her that humanity lit their world as brightly as they could, almost as though they were trying to shout their presence to the universe. If they'd take the time to close their eyes and listen to someone other than themselves, maybe they'd learn something.
Unfortunately, with her eyes turned up, she wasn't watching where she was going as closely as she should have been, with a muffled curse, she bounced off of someone hurrying through the crowd, just as preoccupied as she. Thrusting out a hand to catch herself, she barked her knuckles on on the rough brick of a building. She hissed to herself as she regained her balance and put her injured knuckles to her lips, the coppery taste of blood touching her tongue. As she stood, grumbling to herself about only having two legs when one was used to four, a strange feeling came over her.
She turned her head, looking this way and that, searching for a familiar face. Nothing met her eyes though. Frowning, she concentrated. Yes, the feeling she was getting was familiar, but not as the person she was thinking of. The shaman of her clan had carried with him a feeling such as this. This was definately not him though. Lifting her head, she turned it from side to side again, almost as though scenting the wind. Gradually she got a track on the feeling and continued walking, following the elusive trail.
Eventually the trail led her to a building, set slightly back from the others. It was a club or bar of sorts. Standing just outside the door, she hesitated for a moment. Walking down the street among the push of humanity was one thing. Walking into a bar and taking a seat was another. She shrugged off the feeling though and pushed the door open, catching it behind her and making sure it shut completely.
The murmer of voices mingled with soft music met her ears immediatly, and she took a moment to look around. People wandered to and fro about the room, some sitting at the bar, others at tables and booths scattered about. The scent of food and drink was strong in the air, though not overpowering. The feeling was strong here also. Yes, there was definatly a shaman about somewhere.
Underneath the muted lights her hair gleamed wetly with melted snow, and a dark irridesence, not noticable under the streetlights, shone in the strands. Brushing it away from her face, she moved around the edges of the room until she found an unoccupied booth. Here she sat, waiting, and she admitted to herself, hoping, that whoever was giving off this shamanic feel would show themselves.