Unlike most other people, though perhaps only those from towns that are not San Creado, Catheryn thrives at night. This is mainly because she's a vampire, and cannot go into the sun without contracting some sort of hideous rash, or just combusting on the spot. But even more than that, she's always liked the night, even when she'd been human. There's always been something about the peace that nightfall affords, a quiet that she cannot find during the day.
Of course, now that she resides in San Creado and not a small town in London, Catheryn finds peace and quiet much easier than she used to. With a population of about a dozen people (bar the occasional group of tourists who whirlwind through for a couple hours before disappearing) most of whom prefer to stick to their own devices, San Creado is large enough for everyone to have their own space without having to disturb others, intentionally or not.
Today, she's at the diner, or more accurately, seated on the couch in her office reading a book. Her knitting needles lie on the desk next to her, a project that's to be continued at another time. Catheryn is easily bored, she tends to swap between activities rather quickly, so her brain does not wander. It does not do to dwell on the things she dwells on, such is a waste of the possibly infinite amount of time she has to walk upon this earth. Besides, there are better things to do than drown in memories.
When the little bell that signifies the entrance of a customer rings, Catheryn glances up momentarily, and the untrained eye would see that her facial expression hasn't changed, but if you ask someone who's around her a lot (re: Rialto, or perhaps even Alex, on a good day) they'd be able to tell you that she's confused.
The diner operates on a very loose, open schedule. That is to say, there are certain customers who come in at certain times, and Catheryn has pretty much memorized those times. Someone appearing so suddenly (in between the elderly water nymph and four very rambunctious ogre children) clearly throws a wrench into that schedule.
Catheryn closes her book with a quiet snap, placing it neatly on her desk before unfolding from the couch in a stretch. Best to see what this is all about, she wouldn't want to be sitting in her office while someone trashes her diner, even though she's only the manager. Who even is the owner, anyway? It would seem, along with many other things in this town, no one really knows.
She emerges from the office quietly, pale blue gaze darting around the usual commotion before landing on Marissa, and it's then that they narrow, because the stranger is not human. Those who are mortal, those who are human, carry themselves differently. It is easy to pick out the supernaturals in the crowd because you recognize bits of yourselves in others, and along that same vein, humans just feel foreign.
Catheryn steps forward, allowing her feet to carry her over to the table Marissa is sitting at. "Hello," she says, fingers coming to rest on the glossy table as she addresses the newcomer, "what brings you here?"
Of course, now that she resides in San Creado and not a small town in London, Catheryn finds peace and quiet much easier than she used to. With a population of about a dozen people (bar the occasional group of tourists who whirlwind through for a couple hours before disappearing) most of whom prefer to stick to their own devices, San Creado is large enough for everyone to have their own space without having to disturb others, intentionally or not.
Today, she's at the diner, or more accurately, seated on the couch in her office reading a book. Her knitting needles lie on the desk next to her, a project that's to be continued at another time. Catheryn is easily bored, she tends to swap between activities rather quickly, so her brain does not wander. It does not do to dwell on the things she dwells on, such is a waste of the possibly infinite amount of time she has to walk upon this earth. Besides, there are better things to do than drown in memories.
When the little bell that signifies the entrance of a customer rings, Catheryn glances up momentarily, and the untrained eye would see that her facial expression hasn't changed, but if you ask someone who's around her a lot (re: Rialto, or perhaps even Alex, on a good day) they'd be able to tell you that she's confused.
The diner operates on a very loose, open schedule. That is to say, there are certain customers who come in at certain times, and Catheryn has pretty much memorized those times. Someone appearing so suddenly (in between the elderly water nymph and four very rambunctious ogre children) clearly throws a wrench into that schedule.
Catheryn closes her book with a quiet snap, placing it neatly on her desk before unfolding from the couch in a stretch. Best to see what this is all about, she wouldn't want to be sitting in her office while someone trashes her diner, even though she's only the manager. Who even is the owner, anyway? It would seem, along with many other things in this town, no one really knows.
She emerges from the office quietly, pale blue gaze darting around the usual commotion before landing on Marissa, and it's then that they narrow, because the stranger is not human. Those who are mortal, those who are human, carry themselves differently. It is easy to pick out the supernaturals in the crowd because you recognize bits of yourselves in others, and along that same vein, humans just feel foreign.
Catheryn steps forward, allowing her feet to carry her over to the table Marissa is sitting at. "Hello," she says, fingers coming to rest on the glossy table as she addresses the newcomer, "what brings you here?"
[b][i]moon river, wider than a mile ･ﾟ✧