Encounterlogs
Kitties Odd Encounter Sr Nikolai 240806
In the quaint, artistically adorned Black Rose Cafe, amidst the gentle cadence of morning routines and whispered gossip, Kittie finds herself in the middle of a seemingly ordinary day turned investigative opportunity. Despite the comforting ambiance of stained glass light, crimson walls, and the scent of coffee brewing in the air, Kittie's attention is caught by a snippet of conversation regarding the new assistant's mysterious absences during full moons, a topic that piques her curiosity amid thoughts of local lore and witchcraft. This intrigue is further fueled by the accidental discovery of a forgotten phone, left behind by one of the gossiping patrons. Kittie, with her penchant for observation and a keen interest in the unfolding mystery, contemplates the phone's potential in unraveling the truth about the peculiar assistant and the whispered rumors swirling among the cafe’s patrons.
Devising a subtle strategy, Kittie maneuvers through the cafe with a calculated casualness, masking her intent with the pretense of examining books near where the phone was abandoned. Her actions, though not of a practiced actor, display a natural craftiness, allowing her to covertly retrieve the phone under the guise of an accidental find amidst her literary explorations. Kittie's handling of the situation reflects a blend of curiosity and cunning, embodying the spirit of a casual detective intrigued by the nuance of town gossip and the deeper mysteries it may conceal. Her decision to inspect the phone, testing its lock and pondering its contents, concludes her adventure in the cafe not just with a cup of coffee and an unfinished scone, but with a door possibly leading to a deeper understanding of the shadowy tales entwined with the town’s seemingly mundane fabric.
(Kittie's odd encounter(SRNikolai):SRNikolai)
[Mon Aug 5 2024]
In Black Rose Cafe
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is morning, about 77F(25C) degrees,
(The characters have been given a tip that a prominent local official, who is secretly a werewolf, is planning to use their influence to gain control of the town's resources in order to bolster their pack's dominance. The characters must gather evidence to expose the official's plans without revealing the supernatural world to the unsuspecting townsfolk.)
Soft strains of muted violin music drift through the Black Rose Cafe, the a mixture of pretty twists and long, droning notes blending seamlessly with the quiet hum of conversations. The clinking of cups and the rustle of pages turning create a soothing rhythm that harmonizes with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine, releasing the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee into the air.
The cafe is comfortably busy, with patrons occupying cozy corners and plush armchairs. A couple by the window quietly discuss a novel, their voices low and intimate, while a solitary figure in a far corner is lost in thought, idly tracing a finger along the rim of their cup. The air carries a warmth, both from the roseate lighting filtering through the stained glass above and the soft glow of table lamps scattered throughout the room.
A barista at the counter smiles warmly as they hand over a steaming cup to a customer, the interaction punctuated by the faint chime of the door as new patrons enter, bringing with them a brief gust of evening air. The scent of dark wood and spiced cinnamon mingles with the rich, earthy notes of freshly roasted coffee, and all is comfortable and calm.
For the most part, anyway. Kittie's a perceptive woman, and her table's fairly central to the room, which lets her people-watch and pick up little fragments of people's conversations, as her job encourages - and it's paying off, currently.
"I heard the new assistant is never around on the full moon," a pretty young woman whispers to a friend, opposite the room. She's dressed up too nicely for her morning coffee - she must be headed to work afterwards. "I wonder if, like, he's all about that witch stuff. You always get those Salem history buffs coming to town... And wiccans. Maybe he's a witch." The pair dissolve into snickers and sniggering, which is maybe a little mean-spirited, but worse - there's nothing else for Kittie to prick her ears at. Not yet, at least.
Kittie continues to mildly people watch, keeping an ear out for the conversation of the couple at that other table. She notes the information, perhapse filing it away mentally for an observational report, perhapse for her own interest. There's nothing to do then, but supply herself with entertainment and what else does a college student do in a coffee shop? Use the free wifi and allow those around to amuse her as she window shops ebay. That does give her pause though. She doesn't stop- She's not too bad with multitasking, she's likely done so before in fact, so in spite of the potential that brings up, she simply gets on with her life, waiting to see what comes up next.
As the two girls finish their drinks, they gather their things with casual haste, the brunette adjusting the strap of her handbag while the blonde checks her reflection in the window's glass. They exchange a few more words, their laughter echoing softly through the cafe before they rise to leave. The brunette is still smiling as she swings her bag over her shoulder, unaware that the sudden movement has caused her phone to slip from its unfastened pocket, landing silently on the cushioned seat behind her.
With a final glance around the room, the pair makes their way toward the door, the faint chime marking their exit as they step out into the morning bustle, leaving the cozy warmth of the Black Rose Cafe behind. Their conversation fades into the distance, mingling with the sounds of the street, as the phone remains nestled in the chair, unnoticed by the other patrons, lying in wait for its absence to be discovered. Of course, they might pay attention if someone were to rush over and start going through it right there... but Kittie's capable of more subtlety than that, isn't she? That is, if she's interested - she /could/ just hand it to the staff, and let the snippet of information go uninvestigated. Sometimes, rumours are just rumours, and a trip to the cafe can just be about enjoying a cup of coffee and reading a good book.
Kittie is all too aware of Haven's eccentricities and takes note of that phone. She doesn't move right away, taking the time to close aps, finish the scone she was eating and making a fuss about gathering her things to leave. All in all, it's perhapse five minutes, though there's an effort made to appear casual- No true actor, her skill lays more in that of media and design, but that doesn't preclude her from being good enough for the passing stage craft, and it's this she uses next. A curious thing, all too willing to use her diminutive size and slight build to her advantage to appear less threatening than she has the potential to be, she stands, drink in hand and moves over to a series of books near the chairs the two were sitting. She picks one or two of the historical books up, -trying- to read the synopsis of each, but alas, book stores arn't known for their lighting outside of the main displays and at this time of day especially, shadows fall to obscure even the most obvious thing. And thus, there's no choice but for her to step back into the most lighted part, the cafe, unobtrusively finding the closest seat to inspect the tomes. -- And would you look at that, it just so happens to be the chairs where the phone lays. How fortuitous. There's a moment then as she gets comfortable, settling her bag beside her, slipping that phone out from the seat to fall between the books she's inspecting- Two thick volumes that seem to be manuscripts on theatre production. Almost as if this were completely legitimate, even. So with that done, she leafs once more through the pages, the odd look here or there to suggest usefulness or not what she's needing. And with her other hand, she checks the type of phone and checks if it's locked or not, because why the hell not- She deserves to know either way.
Devising a subtle strategy, Kittie maneuvers through the cafe with a calculated casualness, masking her intent with the pretense of examining books near where the phone was abandoned. Her actions, though not of a practiced actor, display a natural craftiness, allowing her to covertly retrieve the phone under the guise of an accidental find amidst her literary explorations. Kittie's handling of the situation reflects a blend of curiosity and cunning, embodying the spirit of a casual detective intrigued by the nuance of town gossip and the deeper mysteries it may conceal. Her decision to inspect the phone, testing its lock and pondering its contents, concludes her adventure in the cafe not just with a cup of coffee and an unfinished scone, but with a door possibly leading to a deeper understanding of the shadowy tales entwined with the town’s seemingly mundane fabric.
(Kittie's odd encounter(SRNikolai):SRNikolai)
[Mon Aug 5 2024]
In Black Rose Cafe
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is morning, about 77F(25C) degrees,
(The characters have been given a tip that a prominent local official, who is secretly a werewolf, is planning to use their influence to gain control of the town's resources in order to bolster their pack's dominance. The characters must gather evidence to expose the official's plans without revealing the supernatural world to the unsuspecting townsfolk.)
Soft strains of muted violin music drift through the Black Rose Cafe, the a mixture of pretty twists and long, droning notes blending seamlessly with the quiet hum of conversations. The clinking of cups and the rustle of pages turning create a soothing rhythm that harmonizes with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine, releasing the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee into the air.
The cafe is comfortably busy, with patrons occupying cozy corners and plush armchairs. A couple by the window quietly discuss a novel, their voices low and intimate, while a solitary figure in a far corner is lost in thought, idly tracing a finger along the rim of their cup. The air carries a warmth, both from the roseate lighting filtering through the stained glass above and the soft glow of table lamps scattered throughout the room.
A barista at the counter smiles warmly as they hand over a steaming cup to a customer, the interaction punctuated by the faint chime of the door as new patrons enter, bringing with them a brief gust of evening air. The scent of dark wood and spiced cinnamon mingles with the rich, earthy notes of freshly roasted coffee, and all is comfortable and calm.
For the most part, anyway. Kittie's a perceptive woman, and her table's fairly central to the room, which lets her people-watch and pick up little fragments of people's conversations, as her job encourages - and it's paying off, currently.
"I heard the new assistant is never around on the full moon," a pretty young woman whispers to a friend, opposite the room. She's dressed up too nicely for her morning coffee - she must be headed to work afterwards. "I wonder if, like, he's all about that witch stuff. You always get those Salem history buffs coming to town... And wiccans. Maybe he's a witch." The pair dissolve into snickers and sniggering, which is maybe a little mean-spirited, but worse - there's nothing else for Kittie to prick her ears at. Not yet, at least.
Kittie continues to mildly people watch, keeping an ear out for the conversation of the couple at that other table. She notes the information, perhapse filing it away mentally for an observational report, perhapse for her own interest. There's nothing to do then, but supply herself with entertainment and what else does a college student do in a coffee shop? Use the free wifi and allow those around to amuse her as she window shops ebay. That does give her pause though. She doesn't stop- She's not too bad with multitasking, she's likely done so before in fact, so in spite of the potential that brings up, she simply gets on with her life, waiting to see what comes up next.
As the two girls finish their drinks, they gather their things with casual haste, the brunette adjusting the strap of her handbag while the blonde checks her reflection in the window's glass. They exchange a few more words, their laughter echoing softly through the cafe before they rise to leave. The brunette is still smiling as she swings her bag over her shoulder, unaware that the sudden movement has caused her phone to slip from its unfastened pocket, landing silently on the cushioned seat behind her.
With a final glance around the room, the pair makes their way toward the door, the faint chime marking their exit as they step out into the morning bustle, leaving the cozy warmth of the Black Rose Cafe behind. Their conversation fades into the distance, mingling with the sounds of the street, as the phone remains nestled in the chair, unnoticed by the other patrons, lying in wait for its absence to be discovered. Of course, they might pay attention if someone were to rush over and start going through it right there... but Kittie's capable of more subtlety than that, isn't she? That is, if she's interested - she /could/ just hand it to the staff, and let the snippet of information go uninvestigated. Sometimes, rumours are just rumours, and a trip to the cafe can just be about enjoying a cup of coffee and reading a good book.
Kittie is all too aware of Haven's eccentricities and takes note of that phone. She doesn't move right away, taking the time to close aps, finish the scone she was eating and making a fuss about gathering her things to leave. All in all, it's perhapse five minutes, though there's an effort made to appear casual- No true actor, her skill lays more in that of media and design, but that doesn't preclude her from being good enough for the passing stage craft, and it's this she uses next. A curious thing, all too willing to use her diminutive size and slight build to her advantage to appear less threatening than she has the potential to be, she stands, drink in hand and moves over to a series of books near the chairs the two were sitting. She picks one or two of the historical books up, -trying- to read the synopsis of each, but alas, book stores arn't known for their lighting outside of the main displays and at this time of day especially, shadows fall to obscure even the most obvious thing. And thus, there's no choice but for her to step back into the most lighted part, the cafe, unobtrusively finding the closest seat to inspect the tomes. -- And would you look at that, it just so happens to be the chairs where the phone lays. How fortuitous. There's a moment then as she gets comfortable, settling her bag beside her, slipping that phone out from the seat to fall between the books she's inspecting- Two thick volumes that seem to be manuscripts on theatre production. Almost as if this were completely legitimate, even. So with that done, she leafs once more through the pages, the odd look here or there to suggest usefulness or not what she's needing. And with her other hand, she checks the type of phone and checks if it's locked or not, because why the hell not- She deserves to know either way.