Farhaven Hotel

Located in what was once a moderately sized audience chamber just off the main reception hall, Hearth Home Cafe is a warm and inviting room. Six small round wrought iron tables with glass tops surrounded by thick wicker chairs are dotted around the room, though four of the six are clustered close to the tall, stained glass windows that take up most of the right hand wall. On the left is a thick bar top covered in all manner of coffee and tea making accoutrements, both modern and more antiquated, though all appear to be expertly cared for and in perfect working order. This can be attested to by the rich, delicious aroma of roasted and brewed coffee beans that permeates just just the air but seemingly every surface to be found within the cafe and even a few feet beyond it as well. There is also a large glass case off to one side filled with all manner of delightfully fresh baked pastries delivered up from the castle kitchens each and every morning. The thing most folks find most enticing about the cafe, though, is the fact that it's one of the very few places on the property where the wifi connection is actually excellent.

Interestingly, there is no cash register anywhere to be seen in the Hearth Home. Behind the bar there is only a woman. A very grumpy, very pretty and yet somehow simultaneously very unpleasant looking woman with an unusual heart shaped 'tattoo' in the middle of her forehead. She can most often be found holding an oversized mug of steaming hot pure black coffee between both hands while scowling unrelentingly at anyone and everyone that comes within her proximity. That is, she scowls until an order is placed. Then her expression will soften into nothing resembling a smile, not even the pale and practiced customer service type, but at least a detached smirk which relays a bit less out right derision. Just a bit.

"Welcome to the Hearth Home," she will bark at any unfamiliar patron fortunate and unfortunate enough to wander into her aromatic abode. "Let's get this over with, hmm? Whatd'ya want? Come on. Speak up. I ain't got all day. My coffee's getting cold."

Said unlucky patron was the small, poncho-wearing child, flying into the room with her arms spread out. She was so happy to see every new room, every new detail. Her big green eyes glanced all over the place, but found themselves on the stained glass. She ran to them, looking at the light reflecting onto her clothes. She spun on her heel and saw the lady at the front. Remembering her father's advice, she didn't make any vocal announcement on it. She approached the lady with RBF, showing her mitten to her, wanting to shake on it. "Hi! My name is Sember of Skennen Kowa! A pleasure to meet you, miss!" She said.

Her father joined soon, him having his signature hat hanging on his back, his dark coat matching his pants. The brightness of his sunset eyes contrasted his attire. "Depends, you got a menu?" Diran glanced behind her, wondering if it was above her or perhaps on the counter where all of the lovely pastries were. He glanced at the woman, his eyes finding her glasses rather suiting for her appearance.

Surprise very briefly colors the barista's sour expression as a little girl comes barreling into her caffinated realm. It is only a moment though and then she is leaning both elbows against the top of the counter, chunky coffee mug cradled lovingly in both hands, and watches the little girl carefully, partially out of interest, partial because there is a lot of glass and other breakable things in her domain.

"Welcome to the Hearth Home, Sparky," she drolls with a slight smirk to the little girl. Sparky because Sember sounds like 'ember' to her. "Just try not to hurt yourself, hmm? I break hearts. I don't fix bodies."

It isn't until Diran speaks that the strangely marked woman bothers to look up at him over the rim of her thin glasses. Instantly her lips thin and her eyes roll. Ugh. A person. Well, an adult person. "No menu. No point. You want it, I make it. Castle magic." Brief. Brusque. Only mildly derisive.

Diran noticed the attitude, but he supposed that was just the character of this place. Just as he was about to speak, Sember looked at her from the counter and smiled wide. "Do you think you could make me a big shepherd's pie?" She asked outright, thinking she could just get whatever she wanted. But then she remembered what she said. "Wait, you make it with magic? Isn't that unhealthy? Magic in your food can make you sick." She stated matter of factly. Perhaps that's how it worked back in their world.

"Sh-Shepherd's pie?" Pria blinks, clearly thrown off kilter by the little girl's honest and earnest request. Before she can sneer or at least probably correct Sember a little too harshly about just what kind of establishment it is she's running here, the girl switches subjects, asking about magic in food. The poor woman behind the counter can only boggle a bit at the child as she attempts to get her bearings.

"What? No, it's not- There's no magic actually inthe- The magic just sort of- Look, I just work here, I don't-"

It is at this point that the woman utterly gives up on trying to explain anything to the child because clearly it's a hopeless case. Not because of anything Sember has done or said of course. Pria just doesn't have much experience with kids. Puppy love had never been her area of expertise. Very few of her clients had kids by the time she got to them either. She had specialized in young love and love at first sight...

Instead of embarrassing herself further the woman lets out a soft growl of frustration before carefully shoving her mug of steaming black coffee towards Diran. "Here. Take it. I haven't even touched it yet."

For a moment now that the beverage is out of the way the woman rests her heart marked forehead against the counter in the hopes that the cool, smooth surface will offer some form of comfort or at least grounding. Then she suddenly straightens up again, taking a deep, stabilizing breath as she does so. "I'm going to the kitchen to see if they can make a shepherd's pie," the former cupid announces to seemingly no one in particular as she adjusts the fake glasses from where they had slipped down her nose.

With that she turns on her heel and quickly disappears through a small door built so expertly into the wood of the wall behind the counter that it is nearly invisible, leaving father and daughter temporarily alone in the cafe.

Diran took the cup of coffee, hearing her confirm that she didn't touch it. He watched her leave to check on the cooks, Sember turning to look at her father. "She seems upset..." She noticed.

"She's just tired, sweetheart." Diran explained to her. Was it an assumption? Most likely, but he much preferred to have a reasonable answer that his daughter would understand. He sipped the coffee, the bitter, black coffee waking him up after their travel. It sure didn't make his legs feel any less sore.

"Papa, I don't think they make dinner here. See? They have all kinds of yummy stuff here." She pointed out, pressing her mitten onto the glass display. "We can't have dessert yet. We hadn't had dinner."

Diran hummed gently. "Well, we can skip it for today. I'm sure they've got some game out there I can bring back." Diran figured, sipping the coffee.

Tired would not be an innaccurate description of Pria. She's probably have agreed with him had she been able to hear what Diran said to his daughter. Of course, then she probably would have elaborated unnecessarily on all the things that she's tired of, so probably best she had been out of ear shot.

It takes only a minute or so for that strange, almost secret door behind the counter to open again. When Pria returns she's carrying a beautiful, sparkling and elaborately designed silver tray. Sitting in the very center of said tray is beautiful porcelain bowl with little hearts hand painted all around the edges. The bowl seems as though it is filled with the lightest and fluffiest mashed potatoes on the planet, but a deep breath in through the nose will indicate the presence of tender lamb, sautéed vegetables and a thick, savory gravy hiding just beneath the surface.

With a huff the likes of which few can pull off without seeming to leave the ground with the force of the air leaving their lungs, the woman places the tray on the counter before giving it a shove towards the other side.

"There you go, Sparky. Shepherd's pie. Though next time you'll kindly remember that the kitchens are in the East Wing." That last sentence is definitely not aimed at Sember. Sharp sage eyes like the thorns on a rose bush are aimed directly at Diran. Then she is turning away and beginning to fiddle with a strange looking machine. It's not the sort of thing one would recognize or comprehend at all unless one was somehow familiar with Victorian era drink making. There aren't a lot of these sorts of chocolate melters to be seen outside of museums after all. But the girl has to have something to drink with her meal. This is a fucking cafe, damnit!

Though Diran will no doubt note that the length of time the barista had been absent is definitely not long enough for her to have made it to the East Wing, wherever that is, much less cook an entire shepherd's pie!

Both Sember and Diran watched as Pria appeared with the delicious, flavourful meal before them. Sember was the first to try and grab it, but immediately moved back, knowing that it was likely still hot. Plus, it being silver, her father couldn't touch it without getting hurt. "We're sorry." She apologized to Pria before Diran even had the chance to try. "We're new here. We don't know the layout all that well." She explained for the both of them.

"Hang on, we've got the panflet-"

"Pamphlet, papa." Sember corrected him, happy grabbing the drink she was given once it was done. She secured it in her mittens, gently blowing on it.

"Right. Pamphlet." Diran sighed gently. "Well, thank you for the meal regardless. I know now for next time." He would at least show gratitude that she went beyond her job. He still found it a bit off how good it looked, and so quickly too. When he made one, it took forever. He supposed it was magic, but back home, that wasn't a good thing to make with magic.

Pria doesn't want to be less annoyed with them for annoying her with their annoying demands. She likes being annoyed. It's a lot easier of an emotion to deal with than...literally any other. Little Sember is making it damn hard though. Those permanently pursed lips and brows wrapped up like curdled milk ease a bit before a small, resigned sigh leaves her lips.

"Yea, well, no harm done I guess..."

Their comments about panflet versus pamphlet actually have the woman smirking a bit now that the hot chocolate has been handed over. The whipped cream on top is even shaped like a little swan! Pria takes pride in her craft. "Actually, if you look at the bottom there, it specifically says 'panflet'," she points out, her voice warming for the first time with a touch of amusement.

It hasn't escaped her attention that neither of them have taken the tray or the food from the counter yet though. Scowling and rolling her eyes (Must she do everything around here?!) the woman comes out from around the counter, snatches up the silver tray, and carries it over to one of the tables near the stained glass windows. Setting it down, she removes the porcelain bowl delicately from the tray and places it in front of one of the chairs for Sember along with a couple pieces of silverware to go with it.

"Come on, Sparky. Come eat. I don't want to have to drag you to the infirmary if you collapse from lack of nutrition."

"But... that's not how you spell pamphlet. OH! Do you think that's how they speak here? Like a different language?!" Sember suggested to her father, watching as Pria carried it to a table. She was always told to let the employees handle it, unaware that they had full rein to take it. Her father was just the same. Once they were given the food by their waitress, Diran and Sember took a seat, Diran once again thanking Pria. Sember took a sip of her drink, humming gently in satisfaction of the hot chocolate's flavour. She looked to Pria, pointing at the whipped cream covering the top. "What's this, miss?" Seems she didn't know what it was.

Diran made sure not to touch any of the silverware, glancing between his daughter, the waitress and the stained glass windows. He certainly found himself intrigued by it all. There was the faintest scent of magic on the air. He wondered where was the source. Or if there even was a source. He certainly wanted to explore, much like his daughter, but places were off limits. He knew better.

Different languages was an interesting subject to discuss in this place between worlds where folks from places that never existed in the same reality converse with ease. It is way, way, way over the head of a child though. To be fair, it's pretty far over the head of the barista too and she's more or less a deathless magical creature herself. Better to just accept the reality they are given for the time being.

Sember's question about the cream on top of her drink unknowingly causes Pria's eyes to soften from harsh edged peridot gems to something more akin to the color of newly sprouted blades of grass. "That?" she murmurs, voice low and a little conspiratorial. Taking the spoon from the tray, Pria dips it into the fluffy white substance that makes up the swan's wing before offering the bit of treat to the girl, a twinkle of expectation and intrigue in her tone when she speaks again, this time low enough that she expects only Sember will hear.

"This is a one way ticket to heaven, kiddo." Is it really just heavy cream that's been mixed with way too much sugar and a touch of powdered peppermint for flavor that's been beaten into stiff peaks? Of course, but Pria doesn't need the castle's magic or her own to make something so delicious it might as well be exactly what she's describing. "No magic involved. I promise."

Diran seems almost forgotten by the barista as she allows herself a rare joy: introducing someone to something delicious that she's made.

Sember listened to Pria closely, her big, green eyes switching between the sweet, mimickery of the swan's wing and then to the barista. Despite the RBF she had at first, Sember was too innocent to know such a thing. Or perhaps she was just smart enough that looks could be deceiving. She opened her mouth, revealing to the barista her abnormally wide mouth with the shark-like teeth hiding underneath. The flavour immediately made her eyes sparkle with joy, looking down at her hot chocolate and began sipping it together. "Wow~ It's so good. Papa, you gotta try it."

"It's your treat, sweetheart." Diran assured her with a smile. "What's it taste like?"

"Kinda like that goo you make me clean my teeth with."

"Paste. And that's mint."

"Kinda. But sweeter." She realized, before drinking some more. She was as happy as ever. Finally, she decided to get comfy. She removed her mittens, revealing claws, entirely replacing her fingers. She held the cup in her palms. Diran was surprised by her act, but he guessed if she was comfortable, he wouldn't stop her.

Pria blinks a little when those massive teeth are revealed as the girl finally takes a taste of her specially prepared cream, but doesn't react much more than that. Having had a heads up that this girl probably isn't fully human in that way, the barista doesn't flinch in the slightest as she brings out the claws. This is Farhaven, after all. Everyone is welcome as long as they don't start trouble and Pria has taken that idea to heart over the years. Of course, in her opinion most mortals tend to make trouble by simply existing but she's not in charge of who gets an invite. Come to think of it, she isn't exactly sure who is.

Glancing up as the child offers her father a taste, the former cupid seems to remember he's there again. Her whole face contracts back into that bitter, annoyed scowl again and she stands, tugging at her bright orange sweater as she does.

"You need anything, pops?" Her tone is flippant, but not dismissive. If he has a need it will get met. That's what makes the Farhaven what it is.

Though as the two adults are talking Sember might notice the feeling of being watched. Just outside the window there appears to be a woman with empty eyes and tears on her cheeks staring through the colorful glass at them all with a mixture of longing...and rage.

"The shepherd's pie and hot chocolate is plenty, thank you." Diran answered truthfully. "You've done more than enough, though I do have some questions." He admitted, scratching his chin while he tried the first bite of the shepherd's pie. As expected, yummy and soft. He smiled from the flavour alone. "This... this place, what is it exactly? I've been told it's a castle remade into an inn but... frankly, it sound too good to be true. To take something that was meant to protect a king and its residence. Why remake it into an inn of all things? And who runs it?"

All the while he spoke, Sember glanced between them, sipping her hot chocolate and sipping the cream. But just when she was fully relaxed, she turned to look around. The stained glass had her nervous, feeling like something was watching her. But she didn't understand what she was looking at. She sipped her hot chocolate nervously.

Questions? That makes Pria laugh, a snorty little sound that seems to get caught in her sinuses. "Of course you've got questions," she points out, throwing her hands in the air before turning to head back in the direction of her counter. Her domain. Her caffeinated throne. "You'd have to be daft or dumb not to have questions about this place."

Futzing about, making herself a fresh cup of coffee since she'd given her old one to Diran, the barista listens nonchalantly to the concerns their new guest has about the castle and the hotel. One and the same and yet still somehow distinctly seperate.

"It is too good to be true," Pria agrees with a sage, almost stately nod as she waits for her coffee to brew. "Just not necessarily for you or me. I think that's probably one of the reasons Cane's been having...trouble lately though. You can only hold perfection in the palm of your hand for so long before..."

She doesn't bother finishing that statement. Pulling her mug out from beneath the French press, she swirls the liquid thoughtfully before continuing her rather vague explanation. "The castle itself is technically owned by the princess. Princess Aave Graciane." She pronounces the name with great affectation and even holds up her hand and gives a silly little 'princess wave' before continuing in a less sarcastic tone. Though not much less sarcastic. "Given she's dead though she isn't exactly doing much in the way of upkeep on the grounds."

Pria smirks at her own rather morbid joke, but the expression doesn't really reach her eyes as she glances in Diran's direction then takes a deep swallow of her still far too hot drink before continuing. "The hotel itself is run by Miss Caneadea. She's..." Pria's adorable button nose wrinkles up as she attempts to find the words to describe her boss. This causes her glasses to slip down to the tip. Pushing them back up with the lip of her mug, the woman finally continues.

"She says she's just a polar bear shifter, but I've never seen a simple shifter carrying constellations in the depths of their eyes. I'm pretty sure she's more, just not exactly what." Then she's giving her head a shake, sending all that pale orange hair flying in perfectly tangled arcs. "Honestly I don't really care. She's set this whole place up so that anyone who needs to escape from their life can do so without having to worry about time or distance or expense. I don't know why she did it. You'd have to ask her that for yourself. I'm just glad she did. I know I needed an escape. Didn't you?"

As Pria is doing her best to explain the unexplainable to her father, Sember won't have to endure the strange eyes through the window for too long. At around the time the barista is pushing her glasses back up her nose, the strange face seen through the glass vanishes, leaving behind a strange echo, not of sound but of emotion. Sadness. Longing. Anger. Vengeance.

Diran’s expression shifted to one of curiosity to a subtle worry. It did sound too good to be true. When Pria mentioned the idea of her not being able to maintain this place’s perfection for long, his mind immediately wandered to the worst. Like this castle would collapse with them all in it. Was that likely the case? He hoped not. He always assumed the worst, but his daughter always encouraged positivity. “A Bear-kin?” Diran used a word from Salvadera, rather than the ones used from here, while trying to avoid the darker thoughts. “While we did need an escape from the storm, a lot of the dark elves back home needed one too. I suppose we just got lucky. But mom-“

“Papa…” Sember spoke up. But the second she spoke, the silhouette disappeared, leaving her shivering with fear. “Can we help this Cane lady?” She asked.

“Help her how? I’m certain this is more than just Karihton work, sweetheart.”

“But we gotta try!” Sember encouraged. “I won’t break or ruin anything. I promise.”

Diran huffed gently. [So much for a vacation. But I suppose I’d do the same eventually.] Diran took another bite of his shepherd’s pie. “Mind checking the pamphlet-“

“Panflet.” Sember corrected him, pointing at the spelling. Her father simply groaned. “And I think her office is here.” She pointed at the map of where it was. Her father’s response was a Pat on the head and calling her a good girl for having practiced on reading maps.

Luck? Perhaps. Though over her time here in the Farhaven Pria can't help but have noticed a distinct narrative in the sort of people the castle tends to pick up. When Sember speaks up, asking if they can help, the barista smirks and sips her coffee in an almost smug sort of way, is if the child had just somehow managed to prove her right. How pleasant it is to be the smartest person in the room. Or at least the most well informed.

"Let me get you two some to go boxes, hmm?" the woman murmurs before dipping down to dig around under the counter. Popping back up again she has a couple of biodegradable food containers in her hand, as well as two to go coffee cups as well. One is for the remainder of Sember's hot chocolate, but the other she fills with her own special blend of dark roast and tops with a bit of spiced chai foam. The latter is offered to Diran as a sort of peace offering, even if he hadn't been aware they were ever at war. Pria's at war with everyone, until she isn't.

"Bring Sparky here around again before you leave," she instructs rather than suggests to him.

Diran and Sember both took the containers, with the new drinks offered to them. Sember happily accepted it, but Diran would hold it for her. She tried flexing her claws to bend them, but no dice, as usual. She had a bit of a defeated expression, but she was used to it.

Diran did most of the heavy lifting while Sember handled the map reading. Sember showed her hand to Pria, a big smile. “Thank you every much, miss Bari… ba-ri-sta.” She sounded it out. If Pria did shake hands with her, her claws almost beat her entire hand. If she could clench it like her, she’d easily wrap her hand around Pria’s. With that, she went off to find the office.

“Thank you.” Diran said with a raise of his cup, still as unaware of this peace offering. He turned and followed his daughter out, only for her to quickly return and snag her mittens, putting them on and blasting through the door. Pria was left alone once again.

"You can call me Pria, Sparky," the former cupid offers with a wink and a boop of the little girl's nose. Then she is wandering off behind her counter once more to settle back into her self imposed prison of disappointment and regret. Until the little girl rushes back in to grab her mittens. Then the woman is laughing, though admittedly it's just to herself.

"Good grief..." Shaking her pale head a bit, she swirls her newly made coffee around in its mug before smirking out the window. "Maybe that big ole girl knows what she's doing after all."

You don't believe that.

Pria snorts, not bothering to try to find the source of the strange, shivery voice that had just spoken. She knows she won't find it. "You don't believe that. I'm willing to go on a little faith."

You have no faith. It is what I respect most about you.

"You? Respect me? Princess, I'm flattered." The woman's eyes continues to rest upon the glittering colored windows over top of her useless glasses, though she isn't really seeing it any longer. Her gaze has grown distant and broody once more. "I don't have faith in a lot of things," she finally admits in a low, flat tone. "But I wouldn't have accepted the bear's offer if I didn't think she could manage this place. And if you ever did anything as horrifying as be honest with yourself, you would say the same."

There is no response to this rather subtle accusation, causing Pria to smirk again. Taking another sip of her coffee, she notches that little conversation up in her win counter before turning her attention to cleaning up her antique hot chocolate maker. Can't let the residue dry or it'll take a week to properly scrub off!

Now clothed with a nice pure white linen long dress with decent frills over shoulders going down in V form just above the belly, this just arrived doe starts to explore the castle, with the Hearth Home Cafe as first destination. The seams on sleeves wear playful tufty ruffles, softly waving when she walks. The robe descends all down ending just above Lizbeth's dewclaws, also some playful frills sewed over the seam. The gown adopts her feminine forms quite well, elegantly draping over her hips, yet that tail can wiggle freely.
For Lizbeth she's already dressed like a princess, she has no similar robe at home. Still in that well-supplied dressing room, are waiting real silken princess dresses. Lizbeth thinks about having dinner in such a wonderful skirt.

Does this castle treat this doe like a princess? She feels like one anyway.

Smoothly walking through entrance hall, her hooves ticking wonderfully repeated against the highly decorated walls, the kings daughter is to be announced. A soft warm smile on the doe's lips tells everyone that she feels fine, she could get used to this situation. She gives a little handshaking wave to Bartholomew, should this one pay attention to her. But she doesn't want to loose a word with him now, she's on a mission, conquer the Hearth Home Cafe and taste a delicious tea. Lizebth being unaware that the owner of the cafe, well, prefers coffee. But unless you want to see a doe dancing on the ceiling, you better not serve coffee. Lizbeth is sort of a herbalist, her ancient knowledge about forest plants and the information gathered through years of trading plants is quite vast and she loves to make potions. No magical potions, but natural ones, those that can heal or soothe, some do have exciting virtues.
Enters that deer into the cafe, pausing her figure right at the entrance door to admire the room. Just as in her own room, the chamber has a fantastic view outside, inviting... Lizbeth thinks about exploring the surrounding.
Finally her behold falls on the owner of the cafe, that coffee drinking woman with a heart shaped onto her forehead. - The princely grievance ought to be given to that lady. - Shyly Lizbeth steps closer to the bar, all sort of scents invading the deer's nostrils, from roasted coffee beans to that typical sweet Moroccan mint, enchantment is assured.