About: Along with the many odd things at The Elephant Gun, the proprietor is no exception. Two people in one, the young Octofloo is one to bring warmth and comfort to any who cross its path. There are still some things that this young foreigner has to learn, but it is more than willing to learn the customs and ways of this planet...No matter what it takes.. Like opening a random tavern for example ♥
About: Orphaned and grown up to be a straight up thief, Nobuyuki has always been carelessly misunderstood. He steals only when it's essential, though to him, the definition might be a little loose. Nobu, as most of his street friends call him, is agile and quick. He learned at an early age that world was cruel and heartless. Nobu had this view of the world embedded into his mind and was thus cold and harsh to anyone that came near. Though upon after -literally- stumbling into the Elephant Gun, he met the queer Thulu's and has since then decided to give the world another shot. Perhaps it isn't as jacked up as he thinks it is?
xxxxxxxxxxxx✖ A creature of pink and adorned aqua jewels floated about the deserted mansion. It bobbed on effortlessly and with a playful tick to the wings on its forehead it hoovered over to the main bar area. An odd gurgle left it then when it drifted over to the serving side of the bar counter and settled its six tentacles onto the shinning marble table. The pair of white wings on it's head folded in on themselves and the young alien shook a bit and popped a last smacking noise.
xxxxxxxxxxxx✖ The place was quiet, deathly so, and though the young Octofloo expected as much for a Tuesday evening, it still deflated some in its minor disappointment. Where were the chatters and attractive clinking of silverware? Or the warm laughs and bellowing yells from one friend to another? Lala, as dubbed by a little girl, huffed out a breath even when the creature didn't have to breathe; this worlds customs were already getting the better of them. For it was true, young Octofloos didn't need air to breathe, in fact-- if they ever did want the cliched "breath of fresh air" they'd be better off breathing in water. So with its odd and pink bulbous head, little Lala crawled over to the bar's sink and slowly plunked inside. It lay there, for what seemed like minutes and then lazily reached up a pink tentacle to let it slap onto the faucet's knob. Lala was about to turn the knob to the side when it realized that it had two choices in temperature..
Hot..or cold... Each one brought the alien a different outcome..A different transformation, though which one should it choose?
It was party-o-clock in Nadine-land, which really only meant that it was a time. Unfortunately the party seemed to be eluding her, though she was sure that it was somewhere. She just needed to find it, was all.
Part of her determination, at least, was that she'd dressed to the nines in hopes of finding a bed to sleep in. Preferably one with a warm body in it. Her curly hair, shaved along the sides into something resembling either a mohawk or a jugend, was surprisingly managable. Her nails, too long and too chrome to be anything real, were freshly applied acrylic. She'd traded out her usual frames for a pair of cat-eye glasses, a touch she thought went well with her shimmering pink and silver dress. Stick-thin legs of not much length were covered in tights adorned with silver stars, and her shoes... well. Her shoes. They defied gravity and good sense, a blinding and spike-studded chrome. If she tripped, she might well kill herself with them. The only thing on her not glittering was the messenger bag held in her right hand such that the bag almost dragged along the floor, a recycled coffee sack that contained the entirety of her life.
As always, she straddled the line between semi-ironic hipster trash, and simply being trashy.
Nadine straddled a lot of things.
Perhaps the only thing that stood out was the strangely tasteful ring on her right hand, gold studded in diamonds. If she was lucky, this bar would be willing to take it as a barter - assuming it was a bar at all. She was beginning to have suspicions, what with the tunnel and the broom closet and the eerie quiet.
"Helllooooooo?" she called out as she wobbled along the carpeted hallway, green eyes taking in the opulence of the place. "Is there anyone here that can get me drunk?" she asked the emptiness hopefully.
((I've been lurking for a while, and I think we're in different time zones or something (which explains why we're never on at the same time). Screw it...I'm posting now.))
The chick in the gray beanie was walking through the hallway. A pair of black sunglasses dangled from her right hand-- she'd taken them off before going into the tunnel. Currently, she was trying to recall everything she'd smoked that morning...if she'd smoked anything. Had she? She couldn't even remember.
She was wondering if those poisons were still in effect. After all, all of this seemed too pretty to be real.
She'd taken the middle hallway when she'd entered the place and soon passed the "sparkly" lady (there were other people?). She looked at her with a slightly confused look on her face, then turned to face the room ahead. Right as she did, she stopped as she gazed at two things: an exquisite room with all the grandeur of an opera house and a flying pink octopus sitting in a sink.