Background Music, Of Course.
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Inis dom scéal, Oh Athair, le do thoil.
Tá mé phóg Mama agus mé dúirt mo paidreacha,
Agus tá mé fhág Goodnight leis an piscín bog
Agus an luch beag liath go saol faoin staighre.
Inis dom scéal, Oh Athair, le do thoil,
As vampires cumhacht-crazed de mhéid monstrous,
As tagann na drochaigeanta portáin fear-ithe,
Agus zombies pea-glas le súile x-ghathaithe.
Find him. Yes yes, find him. Sniff him out. Dirt of the earth, and scum of the sea. Smell his stench from far and wide. Find him, find him! It's all that's on her mind! With thick curled locks as red as peppers, and eyes as gold as jewels, her mind is heavy with with the face of the man with the emerald eyes. But she did not fret, no no, not yet, for there was much work left to be done, and plenty of stuff for fun.
She walked through the street, the air cold and the sky dark. The breeze from over the vast sea carried sharp winds from her homeland, buried far on the horizon. A jacket held tightly around her civilian clothes gave no evidence that she was a Shinobi of any kind. Disguised like the rest of the people here, dressed in casual clothes and (seemingly) not a weapon in sight. She was blending--or rather, hiding--in with the society. The only thing that dragged her from everyone else was hair so bright it burned the sun, and an accent as thick as coconut oil. But tonight, she would be desperately searching through all of the foreign languages plastered on the signs of shops for one word:
Alcohol
She hadn't had a god damn drink since she came to this village carved in stone. She couldn't read any of the signs, or ask anyone--especially when she first arrived--but tonight, she would find it. She would follow the trails of vomit and loud singing. She would wait for the smell of stale booze to waft into her sinuses where she could catch a glimpse of it's familiar bliss. Her island, her homeland, was cultured in the sour liquid. It was standard for just about everyone to enjoy a drink, at least every now and again--and usually enough to dance on the tables to the sound of violent and upbeat instruments that strung up a jig to make everyone happy and merry. A place where you could forget about everything outside the foggy and dim lit building, and suck in the sweet aroma of freedom.
And there it was! Aha! The smoke drifting and dissipating in the air just outside the door as people opened and shut it. The sound of music and laughter and a crowd all moving together at once. At last, something familiar greeted her so pleasantly. She cracked a bit of a smile, tossing her messy red braid off of her shoulder and down her back and she swung in the door and entered her Utopia. People, so many people! Singing, dancing, laughing and talking! The sounds of glasses clanking together as they all celebrated their small and united victories! Oh, she so badly wished to join them!
A couple (okay, maybe more) drinks later, and she had loosened up, quite a bit. She removed her jacket and taken advantage of the freedom. Her arms grabbing wildly at strangers', as they spun her around. Her head whirling and her head throwing back as she laughed and laughed. Spinning and spinning, faster and faster... faster and faster and faster until--
She'd collide with another body.
She spun around, her head moving and her hair flying in messy wisps along with her. Her ankles catching on one another, and tossing her easily into another body, which forced her into a bar stool, that spun around from the force, with her in it. Her pale arms clutching at the stool to stay on the wicked ride, as her eyesight tried to recover from her excited ride. Despite literally throwing a girl across the room, the party didn't stop. In fact, it seemed the only person who stopped dancing and singing was the one on the ground beside her.