[Isalynne]

The fountain certainly is a sight to behold. White marble, showing no visible signs of its age or the wear of the water, carved into the elegant shape of a rearing stallion in the middle. Water sprays from features encircling it, rising and falling on an automated system.

Very pretty. Classic, and yet modern. It makes her smile.

Behind it, the building she is looking for. It's an old tavern, not nearly as beautiful as the landmark in front of it.

[Isalynne]

Even if it doesn't have the appeal of white marble, the tavern has its own kind of old, rustic charm. The windows are bordered by shutters, painted a rusty red, and have flowerboxes sitting on their sills. They brim with blooms of all colours. A hanging sign with the image of a dozing orange feline proclaims the name of the establishment.

"The Sleeping Tiger," She muses to herself. It isn't a typical name for a pub.

[Isalynne]

Though, it becomes almost amusingly suitable when she hears the mewl from behind her. The cat stands barely a foot from her ankle, buttercup eyes still watching avidly. Waiting for another scrap.

"You're coming too?" She says.

It says nothing, as expected, but does follow when she begins her walk to the door.

"Have I accidentally adopted a cat?"

Again, no response. It doesn't seem too bad of a dilemma, though, so she doesn't stress.

[Isalynne]

The more pressing issue is that of the mist. It's the whole reason she has come all this way, fumbling across land unfamiliar to her. If she can help assist the research in any way, then she will - if she cannot, then at least she can sleep soundly saying that she tried.

There are people waiting for her, inside. People she doesn't know from strangers. It makes her nervous; perhaps having a companion would not be such a bad thing after all.

[Isalynne]

The cat brushes around her calf and purrs, its tail lingering against her even as its body moves away. It's.. cute, she thinks. A little raggedy, especially with the long, matted fur, but it was nothing some love and care couldn't fix. There were nicks in its ears, though, no doubt from tussling with other felines.

"Oh, well," She says. "Do you want to come in with me?"

Whether or not the cat follows, she has to open the door - and so she does.

[Isalynne]

The smell of ale is thick in the air, which is no big surprise. An alcoholic scent must cling to the furniture, with all that gets consumed - and undoubtedly sloshed about - within those walls. It's as quiet as one might expect, at that hour of the day, and dimly lit. She steps inside. Behind her, the cat saunters in her footsteps.

A bartender looks up and regards her briefly before continuing to run his threadbare cloth over the length of the counter.

[Isalynne]

She finds herself sighing an uneasy breath through her nose. A part of her had been afraid that he would yell, scare her off like a wayward child, or -- an animal. No, she is an adult, and her presence had been requested here.

Now, she simply has to find her group before she loses her nerve.

The tables are almost totally empty. The only one occupied is a booth in the far corner, inhabited by.. a man. Or a bird. Or somewhere between.

[Isalynne]

He doesn't seem intimidating. In fact, he's anything but - when he sees her approaching, she can tell that his eyes are smiling, even if his beak cannot. His plumage spreads around him in muted, pastel hues that remind her of an ice cream sundae.

"Good day," He says when she reaches the booth, bowing his head in greeting. "I assume you have been sent here on account of the mist?"

"Yes." She nods.

"Please, do take a seat, I was getting rather lonely- EEK!"

[Isalynne]

At first, she's unsure of what the issue is. Her butt has hardly touched the seat before the man is practically leaping from his, a few stray feathers brushing against her arm. They're stiff, but soft on her skin at the same time.

She looks down - the cat is staring at him with wide, fascinated eyes. Oh. That will be the issue, she supposes. It's strange, though.. surely the fact that he's so much bigger would put his mind at ease.

"Is that your cat?" He asks.

[Isalynne]

"No," She replies, because it isn't. Even if it has attached itself to her, she's not responsible for it. That being said, it would take an individual particularly hard of heart to see that ragged face and not be charmed. "Well.. it started following me when I fed it bread."

"Cats eat bread?" The bird man asks.

"I didn't think they would either."

To her amusement, and his horror, it jumps onto her knee, and settles there as if it belonged.

[Event posts end here]