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Eyes heavily weighted down by heavy lids and lashed seemed to give in to such weight for a long moment, as the insults were registered into her mind. The call of home had been there once, something that had filled her with a longing ache, but then again, such words of cruelty called out to her as well. These too, were familiar.

Seeing as the barman seemed to be more interested in serving his customers now, she plastered on a smile that some how still looked natural and finally recieved a glass in which some alcoholic drink was in yet she couldn't remember for the life of her what it was she had ordered not a few minutes ago. Oh well. Bottoms up.

Downing the drink in a split second, she blinked a couple times before clearing her thoughts, ignoring the some what surprised look of those who watched her still. Not needing any more alcoholic aid for the night, seeing as she had the habit of ordering whatever she thought would get her drunk the fastest (to excersise self caution, of course), she left payment and a generous tip behind as she exited, by means only Ipsolin really knew of. She was almost as if part of the shadows, found only when she wanted to be and concealment was no problem for her.

She was pretty sure she had screwed up her plan for this location already, and as she left the building by means of the back entrance (how she got there was any ones guess), she wondered what it was she was supposed to do. Basically, her plan had been to go to the bar, wait for some thing out of the ordinary. Well, she had found it, but she'd be damned before she'd accept that that was what she was supposed to work with. To understand the....change, as the one known as Hybrid had put it.

Walking off silently into the alleyway, she soon seemed to blend in with the Mundane folk, a useful trick Ipsolin had learned how to do by slightly altering her posture, pasting on a rather sour looking facial expression, and otherwise simply NOT calling attention to herself. It was pretty simple. It wouldn't fool anyone who was looking for her, but, at least now she wouldn't be noticed even by those who weren't.

Somewhat confused, as she continued on and turned the approprpiate amount of times down different streets to maneouvre herself around, she wondered what it was she was to do now. She had thought that the little anonymous envelope had been her savious her ticket back to whatever life it was she had had before. But, it seemed, she had been mistaken and in the end, the s**t hath hitteth the fan.

Was she supposed to just wait for the next sign to pop out out of nowhere for her?

Frustrated, as she tried to access that tiny little part of her that hadn't forgotten, she found what she always did: That part of her seized up even more, till the point she hardly even remembered what she was looking for in the first place.

When she finally got back to her little apartment, she sighed in resigned defeat, undressing as she walked through what she called 'her temporary abode'. So much for that attempt of escape.

NOTE: The probe that Ipsolin sends out in this post is NOT an attempt at reading the minds of the characters. It is more just a general probe that would flesh out the basic nature of those probed...ie, for Conner she would probably get that fact that he is testosterone driven and violent. But nothing else. Sorry for the confusion.

As Ipsolin continued on in her process of getting comfortable within what could be called her residence, she let slip over her figure her silken nightie that she, admittedly, had bought soley for the purpose of it being silk. She was something of a suck for luxery, and she had wasted no time in getting changed into her form of pyjamas tonight mainly because she knew that soon enough, she wouldn't be able to stand without the aid of some one else and that tomorrow she woudl awake with one hell of a hang over.

Mmmm. Alcohol. Running down my throaght, yummy yum yum, down it goes, down into my belly...

Ipsolin thought whimsically to herself as she stumbled around the apartment a little clumsily. She was not one to hold her liquor all too well.

Crashing into her couch, she sagged drunkenly against it and before she passed out, realized the folly of her actions.

It was early morning.

The sun had just come up and arisen to the world below, and all was quiet.

"Stop! Please stop..." A heart broken whimper. A broken plea.
"You supid WHORE!"
"Please no...I can explain."

A muffled scream, as a sickening thud was heard.

She coughed violently, and she was greeted by the sight of red.

Her body lay, bound and broken on the floor as she trembled, violently. She dared not move, she dared not make more sound then what was absolutely necessary. But she couldn't help the way she shook, couldn't help the way she sobbed and struggled for breath.

"The one thing you're good for and you have to RUIN it all!"
"WHY. DID. YOU. DO. THIS?!"

An outraged bellow as blow after blow was landed, some from malicious kicks and some from outraged stomps. Where they landed, she didn't know. But breathing wasn't easy anymore, and her eyes hurt...so much.

"Father...let me explain."

An evil, cruel cackle resulted. High pitched and humourless, it resonated and echoed, all around. There was no escaping the sheer horror of his voice, there was no escaping his wrath, there was no escaping him.

Her father.

"You think you can explain this? I'd like to see you TRY!" He sneered in her face, cruel mockery there.

"You unworthy little WENCH! Just couldn't wait, could you? You just couldn't be bothered, with all the pain and bother that I had to go through, to arrange for you a perfectly suitable husband for you. Do you think it was EASY, getting some one to take you in? I had to practically beg! You're worthless. Weak, hideous, a BURDEN! If you must be my shame and sorrow, at LEAST you could be discreet about it!"

Whipping his hand back, a blow of energy plastered her against the ground with such force that she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe for so long that she eventually passed out, and knew nothing more of the cruelty of that one night.

But...he had told her she was...beautiful.

As her subconscious started to surrender its hold on Ipsolins mind and consciousness came back, the only thing Ipsolin could remember upon waking was that she had done something stupid....

Not the Rusty Nail!

Oh ********.

The long and treacherous treck back to being sober was not a painless one, as Ipsolin found for the umpteenth time that no, she really could NOT hold her liquor. No matter how often she got drunk.

Not that I ever drank all that much, she grumbled to herself.

What seemed an eternity later to her, Ipsolin plucked herself off the couch without the usual grace that followed her movements, and went to go re-hydrate her system. If she did a damned good impression of a camel when it finally decides to go ahead and drink water, then it was all coincidental.

Mind, she could drink a rather large amount of water.

After a long while of simply chugging as much water as she could possibly handle, she grew frustrated when she found her bladder seemed to be discarding of the fluids she knew her body desperately needed. Well, she though. She'd just have to go drink some more.

Running foolishly back and forth, back and forth from the kitchen to the washroom in her desperate quest for re-hydration, in between runs she realized that while she had been crashed out on bed, not as much time had passed as she would have thought would have passed, and the thought occurred to her that she had gone to the wrong bar. Still buzzed from her alcoholic intake, she was soon recovering her grace though and went to go re-dress herself.

So, the Shadow Bar it was then.

Redressed, refreshed, and most of all rehydrated, Ipsolin stood infront of the mirror that hung in the small and homely entrance hallway to her little abode, preening herself and otherwise touching up on minute, quick little details before departing into what would be her second bar for the night. It was just little things, like making sure such curl hung just so, that her lips had a gleam that captured the eyes just like that, that her nails were done in a fashion just like this, tiny, trivial things. Never one for make up, the goddess-inspired beauty didn't have to worry about that world of worries due to her lineage. Of what she could remember anyway.

Stopping to contemplate her features for just a moment more before departure, she looked into her own eyes into the mirror, simply looking at the woman found there. Every once in a while, when she was least expecting it, she could see flashes of the life she had left behind in shiny, polished surfaces. They lasted not half a split second, but the intensity of which the felt those emotions of another time and the vividness of the visions made her feel as if she was instantly transported to another time, to another place. She smiled softly, as her eyes finally lowered to see the some what out of place vase that sat, plump and curved, to the side.

It was made of a beautiful blue, marbelesque stone that shone with a matte sort of finish, unadorned with gems or precious metals. It was simply a blue stone vase, appealingly shaped with a cute little lid at the top that seemed it's only featured elaboration of its simple elegance. Some how Ipsolin had come into the Mundane with this vase, and had never parted with it since. She remembered, her first 'vision' she had had in this world, which; oddly enough featured this vase. It had been a different art work though. Once painted in shimmering colours were the portraits of swans, their necks intertwined with eachothers in a sort of eternal avian embrace. She saw, it had been presented to her by an unknown face, filled with nothing but a necklace. Where the necklace had gone, Ipsolin couldn't remember but it pained her to know she had lost it. It seemed...important, some how.

Smiling sadly to the blue little vase, she let her fingers trace over its smooth and cool surface before turning to head out the door. Once she heard the tell tale click of the lock, she headed onwards to the elevator, out the building, and into the streets, on her way to the Shadow Bar.

It took less time than what she had expected, but when she arrived there it felt much like entering any other place. That same, momentary silence. That familiar, strange feeling of weight. That odd, lack of breath. It happened everywhere she went, and she wondered off handedly if ever she would find some one who didn't seem to lose themselves in the lost soul that she truly was.

Remembering only very vaguely what it was she was supposed to say to the supposed psychic that she would meet here in the bar, Ipsolin took her time in taking a seat at the bar, waiting patiently in deep contemplation before she deigned to order. To find a psychic, it made sence she would have to find him or her by means of whatever power that she was in possession of. Alright, well she was in posession of both psychic and spell casting powers. Seeing as it wasn't all too likely she'd be able to cast a spell right around now with so many people, feeling them out with her mind would have to be the way to go.

Slowly, gently, the Aasimar started to unfold her mind, letting loose the delicate tendrils of her mind, trying to get a feel of something that reverberated in her soul to her, trying to find something that struck her as familiar. Similar, perhaps.

At first, the tendrils had been overwhelmed by the seemingly overwhelming quantity of psychic power around her. Wincing, her tried to ease into it even more, feeding just a little bit more mind power into her weaving. With this, she came to realize that instead of it being that there was so much psychic power as had been the first intake, she realized it was more the fact that something about the room seemed to echo it, amplifying it every time the echoes hit eachother and layered one upon the other. A symphony of mental discord, Ipsolin let her eyes fall shut as she tried to sort through the tangle of a mess within her mind. It seemed an endless puzzle.

Well, she thought to herself as she could almost see the echoes of psychic magic in her minds eye. She could easily cut off the sections where the layering seemed weakest. And so, the psychic started in on the challenge of trying to figure out the little challenge that had been presented to her.

"Oh, I'm fine thanks. A shot of Baileys Irish cream would be lovely though, thank you."

She smiled warmly to the bartender, a bit distracted from her previous attempts at deciphering the massive tangle that seemed to engulf the whole interior of the bar. Lost from her search through the massive web, she didn't notice anything about the bartender in particular that would have given her a clue as to his real identity, as the psychic that she was looking for. She'd probably kick herself for it later, she had a habit of never seeing what was right in front of her.

Going back to her search as soon as she had given her order, she decided she would have to do this with both eyes open. A deep sigh, a resigned sort of look at the crowds around her, and Ipsolin went back to her task, trying to figure out the origins of all these psychic waves. They were everywhere, and without end or beginning. It felt likebeing lost at sea, and having to take a wild guess in which direction land lay. Not an ideal situation.

Continually observing the waves, how they rebounded, echoed, reverberated, and ultimately vanished, the Aasimar soon came to the conclusion that there was one thing she was looking for, which was where the waves were strongest. Now, there were two possibilities as to where the waves would meet such strength. One being where they originated from, and the other where the waves overlapped in such excess as to match that sort of intencity.

Knowing this, she then came to the next logical conclusion. That where the waves were youngest would be where her source would be. Now, the trick was to figure out how to sence, out of those hypothetical places, where the waves were youngest. Maybe she would be able to find out not by the intencity of the waves their age, but by their force? That seemed about right. It made logical sence to her, anyway.

In all honesty, Ipsolin's strong suit had never been logic. What made clear and perfect sence to her often passed as something arbitrary and nonsencicle to the rest of the world. She had gotten used to it though, she sort of had to. Nothing seemed to be right in this world to her. It was like living in a house of mirrors. She could still get a general gist of everything around her, but never was it the right way. She just wasn't made for the Mundane.

As her shot slid to a sleek halt right in front of her, she let her hand come forward just so that her finger could trace over the rim of the glass, her concentration some where else. As far as she could tell, the areas of concentration or origin were, of course, by the corners of the room, or some where around where she was now. Now, considering the angle of which the most concentrated places seemed to be occuring, she could safely rule out all of those places and came to the conclusion that the source was some where in her vacinity. Great.

Taking a break from her search, she figured that was the sort of problem that the answer had to be found indirectly in order to arrive at a solution while keepin sanity. Yet again, another statement that made perfect sence to her, but probably wouldn't have to too many other people.

Upon coming out of her psychic power induced trance, Ipsolin was made aware that some one had been reading her mind. Or at least, just reading her. She could feel that sick, dull feeling at the edges of her mind that resulted from foreign invasion, and she was incredibly glad she was at a bar.

Motioning to actually just sip at her shot, she had always found the drink too rich to just down in a shot. Sure, it would look weird, sipping from a shot glass but then again anyone who thought so could just screw off. She had already gotten drunk for the night anyway. No need to repeat that scene.

As soon as she had been able to take a sip, her attention was diverted to the barman, who had engaged her in conversation again. Looking to him, she found it slightly odd that the one thing she could not see on the mans face were his eyes, the most expressive part of it. It made speaking to him a little weird, a little awkward.

"Oh, just enjoying my free time I suppose. Recently got back from a photo shoot...and became even more aware that there isn't much difference, between the shadows and nightmares of the Mundane and I."

Smiling perhaps somewhat mysteriously, she finally went for a small sip of her drink, just enough to get a taste of it before setting it back down for later consumption. No more drunkeness.

She allowed her eyes to follow the gesture to the beings around them, and seemingly unphased by it all, Ipsolin simply let her eyes go from point a to point b and back again. Not thinking all too much about the matters she had previously reflected on, the feeling of being read had made her wary of what was going on in her head. The answer of which, of course, was always to try and make what was going on in her head falter to a complete halt.

Well, in her logic anyway.

Her eyes suddenly snapped back to the half covered face of the bartender as he used her name. Alright. That just confirmed it. Three clues now. One, the psychic was some where near her, two, the feeling of being read, and three, his using her name. There was no way that the psychic could be anyone but the bartender. Wow. She could just kick herself now.

Quickly regaining grace, she thought frantically to slip in the secret pass phrase into seeming conversation. She smiled appreciatively for his wishes to serve her, curious as to the eyes that must have exsisted behind that fringe of hair but some what disappointed that now she wouldn't have the chance to ask him about it. Alas, some mysteries were to be left unsolved.

"Oh, no I think I'm all set for now."

She gestured to her shot glass that had hardly been touched.

"You should go and get on with your chores, looks like the shadows are moving again."

"Does the miss need anything else before this bartender moves onto other chores for the time being?"