[ anyone who tries to stay near the walls is about to run into one of the most intimidating woman they've ever seen in their life.

she is at least seven feet tall. her brow is furled. she's covered in demonic parts, from a pair of leathery wings on her back to the rough hooves on her feet. and most importantly, she is wearing this sweatshirt, complete with neat slits for her wings to go through.

she's got a hunk of very lightly cooked meat in one hand, and a red plastic cup of alcohol gripped tightly in the other. don't judge - she's still on probation with actual glass.

if you linger too long in looking at her, she'll snap without looking over: ]

Out with it. What do you want?

[ the previously stoic woman is... well, still entirely stoic. she's sitting down on the ground now, glaring at anyone who dares to get near her - but hey, at least she's not actually yelling at anyone!

she's actually been strangely quiet for about fifteen minutes now, and anyone that's met her in the past might be able to notice something's up. when the next person on-stage finishes, she staggers to her feet, making her way to the stage and grabbing the microphone. she doesn't bother with a backing track - she just lifts it to her lips and starts singing the main melody of a song.

it's... not entirely unpleasant. her voice is rough, and she clearly wasn't a singer in this life or the last one, but at least she's mostly on key. the lyrics are all in some other language, and only those in the crowd with a grasp on darnassian are going to be able to work out just what she's singing.

she finally finishes. for a moment, she wavers on her feet. then she unceremoniously drops the microphone to the ground and stumbles off. when she reaches her previous position, she sits and clutches her head, her breathing ragged.

looks like variss isn't the greatest drunk. ]