Marilda - Bat and Dragon

Description: A vampire and a priest walk into a bar.. there's probably a punchline for that title, but this episode of Darkstalkers is not that punchline!

It's a tiny little bar in a tiny town in Eastern Germany. After a most epic confrontation with both his most hallowed companion and his inner beast, Walter Bardsley has been most righteously side-tracked by /orders/. Almost insulting ones after fighting a warrioress of such strength. Even in his weakened state after such a most thorough sparring match, the preacher dispatched the errant zombie that had been chomping on the locals for some time in the tiny town. He's likely pissed off a bishop somewhere along the line, and the mission has ended with him drowning his irritation in a bar where he can barely speak the language.

That's why he's speaking in good old English.

"...And then the bloody wretch punches me in the unmentionables. A priest! Good girl, though. Let that be a lesson to you, Bob." The bartender's name isn't Bob, but that's what the somewhat drunk priest has settled upon as he downs his fifth ale.
'Bob' grunts and serves another. "Do not underestimate women. Be they ill-dressed rockstars or...mmm, let's say more pious folk." Slurp. The cloaked, winged preacher can't help but flex a bit. His wings are sore after being beaten down by said pious Dame. Thankfully, he's not revealed anythign damning about the good Dame Knight.

Bars and the like, no matter the country, seem to be turning into the place to run into Marilda. Maybe a few rumours on the internet have spiked up about a 'lady in black prowling the world', but they are probably on the sides of the internet where conspiracies are rampant and unfounded. Mari's just enjoying a tall glass of water to wind herself down.

A drunken Father of the church is certainly a sight to behold, so she pays a great deal of attention to Walter. He's speaking in english, which is good, she picked that up at home after her 'awakening'. German she's too rusty to remember much.

Sloshed or not, the preacher knows a gaze upon him when he feels it. A trained fighter and Darkstalker both, that little prickling along the spine has him turning even amidst a laugh to meet the gaze of the leather-clad woman. His story ends abruptly. Not quite willing to share the both more embarrassing and yet more soft-hearted side of his story with the rocker Alexis to the whole bar, he simply gives a laugh.

"Bloody chap you are, Bob! Ahh..." A pause, and then the good Father spins in the barstood three times, only to focus his reptilian, inhuman gaze upon the oddity of a woman that is before him.

A hand is offered. "Father Walter Bardsley, Miss! I see I am not the only...interesting person here! No offense Bob." Bob just grunts.

A glance over her. Leather. A /hood/? His drunken brain tries to match local fashion versus the woman's strange attire. He comes up empty. Odd!

"I hope this lovely little town has treated you well! Truly, hard working, kind people here! God be praised for such /honesty/!" Grin! Too-sharp white teeth are exposed in a bright smile. The preacher is clearly a happy drunk.

Marilda's sunglasses make it a bit hard for the average bloke to know where the hell she's looking, but the drunk preacher seems to catch on. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Lady Marilda Barbat." she replies to the Father, while curiously looking at his hand, as if the gesture is entirely alien. "I don't think your rank in the church is enough excuse to get my lips on you, Father." she comments.

She adusts her sunglasses and gives a nod. "Yes, honest and good working people, I have been treated well indeed." she returns an equally white smile, though fewer teeth are sharpened, they are also a bit elongated, more elegant than the omnivorous human norm.

Walter, for a moment, looks wounded. Then he relaxes a touch. His hand goes up. Another smile, hopefully disarming to the leather-clad woman.

"...I think this is where I crash headlong into a cultural barrier. Lips on /you/? My apologies. Typically, in England, one either shakes hands or, in the more old fashioned case, the male takes the Lady's hand and kisses /her/ hand as a geature of respect. I merely meant to offer proper greetings." His eyes catch something of those elongated teeth. But he says nothing, chuckling.

"Still! Well met, Lady Barbat! Are you a native, or a traveler?" Inquires the preacher curiously. Again, he can't help but ponder her outfit. Just who /is/ Marilda Barbat?

Marilda smirks, a worldly Father. She offers up her hand to the intoxicated priest. "You're already upsetting the almighty by being intoxicated, acknowledging a Lady properly won't be any worse." she offers up her left hand, clad in leather with the band of her marriage worn atop of it.

"I am not a native, no. Or I'd have found a bar with food in it." she teases, mainly to 'Bob', with a chuckle. "A traveller, definately. My home is in Romania."

A hand is offered, and then, the priest slides from his barstool. Kneeling, he kisses that leather-clad hand gently in a knightly act. Then, the sloshed preacher somehow manages to avoid the room's spinning to climb back to the bar. Possibly with Marilda's help.

A hand goes to his chest. "We all have our sins, my Lady. This is one of my own. Or mayhaps the Lord invented drink to loosen our tightly wound inner selves in merriment. I could not say, to be blunt. I am but a humble servant." A bow, here, and a crossing of his chest.

A glance to the band. Married? That brings an even brighter smile, the preacher's head full of wedding bells for the oddly attired woman.

Bob just grunts. More drinks are slid about. Likely most on Walter's tab. His supervisor is going to /kill/ him.

"Romania? A land I have not had the opportunity to visit!" For all of his work, he simply hasn't gotten around to it. Consider certain vampiric cliches broken.

"Traveling with your beloved, I pray?" There's utter warmth here. And a little envy. To be married, to know pure love? It's not something Walter could imagine for himself given his 'affliction'.

Marilda is bemused at the kiss, and offers the Father an approving nod. "You speak like a true man of cloth, despite your inebriation, I will believe you." she muses, her voice taking on a lyrical note aside the heavily, obviously Romanian accent. "No, I lost my husband to sickness. The same sickness almost took my own life, but I have grown to live with it." she replies, honestly. "So, does the Shepard's follower grant his favour unto widows and the orphaned?" she asks.

Walter chuckles. "Glad to know that I keep the faith even in the depths of my own weakness." He offers, rubbing the back of his head slightly. Beneath his cloak, his tail swishes.

The lyrical note has him tilting his head a touch closer, interest piqued. He's met so many curious people, but this Romanian woman holds him for now.

Then his features soften, looking the woman in the sunglasses-covered eyes.

"My condolences. May he rest in peace in the arms of the Lord." Offers the holy man solemnly, crossing his chest again.

"But that you are spared, may you carry on his story until the end." He ends. Pausing, the man attempts to perk up a bit.

And perks up he does, wings flexing drunkenly. Just a bit. "His follower offers favor upon all. But most especially knights, the lost, widows, and God help him, orphans. one myself." A shudder, and a frown. It seems the vampiress has touched upon something in the wyrmkin's spirit.

Marilda's facing turns fully unto Walter, her right hand remains busy keeping a large leather case balanced on her lap. She smiles, "He was a good man, I have no doubt he claimed his place in heaven. And his story is forever mine to tell." it may be a cryptic hint, that she ignores mention of any end, and instead inserts a 'forever.

But then Walter seems sad, thus she lifts her left hand to lift is chin. "Then why do you resonate such sadness, for surely an orphan and widow of faith are to gain His attention in their meeting." she murmurs. "Do you not have a wife, Father?"

A glance to the case. Walter can't help but ponder: a weapon? An instrument? In this world of fighters, its hard to tell. Then the preacher's eyes are on her own as she tilts his head up. Right into those sunglasses.

Another shiver down his spy. Forever? It puts his entire senses on guard for a moment. Muscles tense. If only he had brought his weapon case!

All he has is wits and words right now.

"I am sad that people lack mothers and fathers, and that a widow should know pain in the passing of her beloved." A pause.

"And that I know what it is to lose parents, those you care for deeply."

A wife? Him? A horrid draconic abomination?

He chuckles, sighing. "Let us just say my occupation has hardly garnered me such fanciful notions! A wife? /Me/? Surely you jest my dear! I fear such things are beyond me." A sigh. Cue another touch of envy in his voice.

Marilda raises her brow, such sadness. One she can certainly sympathise with, such a pious man seems to have missed her point. "No, I do not jest, Father. I'm certain there is love out there for you. Perhaps closer than you think." at this point, bob -has- to know she's flirting, even if she is being incredibly roundabout with it.

It seems the preacher is not the most level-headed when in the throes of the demon drink! He smiles a bit, Walter chuckling. The words, however, are touching. He straighens up a bit, tail swishing as a blush touches his cheeks.

"...Truly?" A deep, deep sigh. His inner hatred rises up. He's a sin, an abomination, something that should not exist...

But his own self-mutilation ceases in the face of all that he's encountered in the last few months. There's a card flicked out, with his number and an office in England. He smiles.

"Love is fleeting, and yet eternal. I wonder what the future shall bring. Let us meet again, my most...dark-clad Lady." It's about as close as he can get to voicing his opinion of the Lady here. A wad of cash is offered to Bob. "Pay for the Lady's drinks. For now I retire 'lest I make a further fool of myself. Until another day, my Lady." A smile, a bow, and out the preacher walks. Could he truly one day find love, amidst his great hate and desires?

Log created on 22:44:50 02/16/2015 by Marilda, and last modified on 00:54:44 02/17/2015.