Water, on the rocks (OPEN)

[Toshiro Hitsugaya]

[scrolly:h(282),w(340),sy] Valhalla. The hall of the greatest warriors to ever fall in battle—or so the story goes. Toshiro knew better. He wasn't dead for one thing, which automatically threw that idea out the window. As far as knew, nobody here was.They were all here, just as they were in the other place—except for the fact that in the other place, they never remembered Valhalla. Not that Toshiro was any different. Hitsugaya padded toward the tavern, idly admiring the sky. Every stride was full of purpose, if only out of habit. He didn't have any particular reason for coming here... but then, where else was there to go? There was the drinking hall and the forest and not much else, really. The door swung open of its own accord as he approached it, releasing a taste of the air inside. Warmth from the fire, the low rumble of voices and the boisterous tune of a drinking song; the smell of beer and roasting pork. He sniffed the air as he passed through the doorway, mildly interested; it had been a very long time since he had had pork. The interior of the building was impressive for any first-time visitor. The place was a little gigantic to call a tavern; there was the main bar, with stools at a counter and a burly, red-bearded barkeep behind it, and there were scattered tables throughout the room. The tables and chairs were spread out was spread out, they had to be to accommodate the wolves that often accompanied their humans. A group of men he recognized from the Exiled camp seemed to be responsible for the drinking song. Toshiro let out a little huff of annoyance. Humans were so unbelievably idiotic when they were drunk. The giant barkeep seemed to recognize Toshiro immediately, waving absently at the far wall. Following the movement, Toshiro spotted a trough filled with clean water, with large chunks of ice floating in it. His usual. With a nod to the barman—a very human gesture that he used in spite of the fact that it wasn't exactly native to him—he changed his course, weaving between the tables to get to the wall and the water. He lapped at the icy water for a moment, then lifted his head to look back around the tavern, licking his chops to make sure he didn't drip water everywhere. Wolves usually came here with humans. Toshiro had only rarely seen rogue or otherwise unaccompanied wolves in Valhalla.... Sometimes he wondered what that must be like. To have a human. Was it like the "pack" that he and Kaite had? Oh, sure, he could have asked some of the other wolves at the camp—hell, he could even have asked Kaite—but that just wasn't something he was inclined to do. Such questions were frivolous, after all. If he wanted to know, he could always find out for himself. The inclination just wasn't there, though. With a wolfish sigh, Toshiro sat by the wall and simply observed the tavern's clientele, only mildly interested but lacking anything else to do. [/scrolly][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:72px;padding-right74px;padding-top:80px;,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width:485px; height:602px; background:#0a1017 url(http://imageshack.us/a/img802/3758/ef4k.png) center center no-repeat;,true][atrb=style, text-align:justify; font-family:'times new roman';font-size:12px; color:#12193d;vertical-align:text-top]

[Apocalypse]

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[atrb=background,http://img813.imageshack.us/img813/4598/lypsemiddle.png] His steps were filled with purpose. Each stride perfectly placed. A sense of grace to him, even with his large stature. The soft ground gave way under his weight. The dirt molding between his toes. Sun was setting and pinks and oranges stretched out across the sky. Colors applied by a large brush being drug across the canvas. To the east, it was already a dark purple, stars already coming out to play. His head stayed low as always. His blood red eyes glancing around the area, but the rest of his body stayed forward, attentive. His ears laid back against his furred skull. A deep breath filled his lungs as he approached the tavern. He hoped to walk in here and it would be mostly empty but, not everyone can have their wishes. And he certainly never received them. He blinked as he approached, switching his vision. The spectrum he viewed changed to shades of blues. And inside the walls of the bar...yellows and oranges. People set everywhere. Some with huge masses sitting next to them that could only be assumed to be wolves. He released the breath slowly, eyes falling closed until all the carbon dioxide was removed from his lungs before reopening them. Normal sight returned to him. A group of humans were just entering. A group of three girls, giggling and seeming as though happy to be in this environment. Apocalypse had realized that only two kinds showed their faces here. Those who were happy to have the company. And those who just wanted to drink their sorrows away and forget that they were even living. Wishing that they could go back to when they were a happier being. He was one of those. He pushed the door open with his shoulder. The door being large enough for wolves to come through. His eyes immediately glancing around to see exactly what his vision had shown him from the outside. Humans mingling among themselves. Most of them with monstrous wolves being have by their sides. Apocalypse's stride through the tavern emitted that of almost disgust. That he didn't want to be bothers. Just wanted to be left alone. Head still lower than his wide shoulders. His muscles flexing under his thick coat with each step. The fur splitting before rejoining. His ears still laid back in his best attempt to not draw attention to himself. To make himself small and sleek to just pass through everyone. Weaving in and out of the spread out tables to allow for the humans' companions to join them. A small domestic dog must have accompanied someone, and was now in his path. Looking up at Poca with a look that showed that he was used to seeing the wolves but, was still in wonder by them. Slowly, Poca pulled back a black lip, exposing black gums that only made his contrasted white teeth look larger. A hint of a sneer, with a trace of a snarl crawling up his throat. The domestic took a couple steps back before turning tail and going behind the bar. Must have been the barkeep's. He lifted his head finally. His eyes searched the area before finding a seemingly empty corner. He made his way in that direction. Settling his haunches on the wooden floor.

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