(So this is a character chat, no real roleplay necessary. I am going to start it was a roleplay though) Clara stood there at the bar, wiping it down, and Evelyn was in the corner tuning her guitar. Evan, Evelyn's twin brother, was hidden away in another corner in the shadows, writing away in a little book. Alex sat next to him, doodling a few people surrounding him.
A woman walked into the tavern. She looked weary, and had her fair share of healing wounds. She walked over to the bar, sitting down.
"Could I get a Scotch?" She asked, setting her backpack down.
Clara nodded and slid you the drink. "Want me to start a tab, or is this your only one?" Alex got to drawing the new person with the wounds, and Evelyn began to sing quietly in the corner.
"This will be the only one," the woman, Ruby, said. She rubbed the rim of the glass with her finger, melancholy.
"Alright. $3.00 for it then." The bar was slow since it was early in the morning, hoping to get busier as the day went on.
Ruby handed the money over quietly, before taking a sip of her drink.
"It's pretty quiet in here," she noted.
A teenage girl, her clothing hiding the many scars on her body, except the one running down the length of her face walked in. Numerous bruises covered her body and face, though most of them were hidden, and she trembled. She didn't know what to do, she had just escaped from her handler. "He-he can't find me…" she whispered, just to herself. She was far enough away, right? She had even taken liberties to cut her beautiful blonde hair, but she wasn't the best at cutting hair, and the ends were all ragged from the rough job.
Evelyn's music stopped and Alex excited by this new character took to doing her on the spot. Clara and Evelyn both share a look as she walks over and puts hand on her shoulder. "Hello. I don't mean to frighten you, this is a safe place. I could get you some tea, you can sit. Rest. And if your willing enough,tell us your story so we can help you." Evelyn and Clara both knew that haunted,afraid look well. The fidgeting, the pain. Quick glances down every single dark alleyway, living like street trash until your picked up, shooken out, and given to somewhere supposedly safer. Some got lucky, some didn't. You got lucky.
The girl, who knew herself only as "Number 5," since she had grown up with her handler her whole life, she didn't even remember her real parents, whimpered in fear, and backed away as quickly as possible into the doors. "You-you don't know me…" she whispered, a wild look in her eyes.
"No. But we want to help." She said as Clara makes a water.
"No," the girl said in a strong voice that surprised herself. She didn't even know she could be that loud. "You c-can't help…" she continued in a whisper.