Mollianne sailed into the vicinity of Viorar on an easy and carefree glide, the events of the last week or so still fresh in her mind. It was a shakeup of everything she'd resigned herself to in the last few years, and the start of a new path that she was only-too-happy to begin walking. And speaking of walking, the siren gradually descended upon a clear spot within the town, one of the back roads where she didn't have to worry as much about people nearby when she landed (they always seemed so startled when she just suddenly swooped in, it seemed). Her taloned feet raked the cobblestone as they found solid ground, and, once stable, Mollianne's immense wingspan folded itself in against her back. She exhaled lightly, smiling to herself as she considered her surroundings before heading on toward the main thoroughfare of the city of eternal night.

The siren could be forgiven for not spotting her company at first, given that they were wearing mostly black and leaning against a wall, intentionally choosing to idle in the gaps between lamp light. Avarice had been holding a small object in their hand which they quickly pocket when a nearby noise catches their attention, looking up to spot the siren folding her wings. They aren't particularly startled; more curious than anything, they blink a couple of times before familiarity starts to dawn on them. Shifting away from the wall and straightening up, the rogue takes a step or two after her. They don't know her personally, of course, but they've spent enough time watching her on a stage to be pretty sure of who that silhouette belongs to. Probably best to announce themself, before they're discovered in silence and she suspects something nefarious -- which might be somewhat of an accurate assumption, just not in regards to her. "... Molliane?"

Mollianne glances about herself as she hears the voice, checking this way and that way with a curious expression as there seems to be nobody immediately visible on her way forward. She then gets the bright idea to check behind, the purple frock she's wearing swaying lightly against her frame as she does. "Oh! There you are." Her grin shows one small fang peeking out past her upper lip. "Have we met? I am usually good with faces and voices, but it has been a wild week, so you will have to forgive me, this time." Her tone is pleasant and easygoing, despite the whole "dark backroads" setting around them.

The stranger doesn't look particularly threatening with a quick size-up, at least, having a general bearing and stature closer to 'punk kid' rather than 'looming thug'. They also keep a comfortable distance rather than getting too close into her personal space, so that probably helps as well. "Not exactly," comes their easy answer, tone light and casual. "Unless you count being in the front when you were performing. Don't know if it's easy to see faces with stage lighting, so you get a pass for now." Their lips form a teasing smirk. They seem to have no trouble falling into an easy sense of familiarity, as if they don't really get the sense that they're talking to a stranger. Whether that's specific to Molliane or just how they are in general is another question.

At the mention of the performances, Mollianne beams brightly, -both- canines visible now. "You were at the Festival of Lights? That is wonderful! Did you miss the chance for an autograph?" She's just making assumptions at this point, but it probably came with the territory. "Or are you talking about the nightclub? I have not actually been there all week. Things are just now settling down and I am looking forward to easing back into my regular routine again, at least until next year." She puts her hands together in front of herself, a gesture of appreciation. "But it is always nice to hear from a fan. Really!"

"Oh, but... I hope the last one was not too much. I think I may have gone overboard just a little bit." Mollianne grins sheepishly, but doesn't look the least bit upset about it, herself.

Avarice is more than happy to let her speak without interruption, shifting one hand out of their pockets to push a lock of hair out of their eyes -- which will simply drift back into their face a moment later. Their own face splits with a genuine grin when she mentions the last performance, "No, no, it was perfect. It absolutely wrecked me." They sure look cheerful about admitting that. "I can't wait for next year -- will you be there next year?" They can't make up their mind whether a handshake would feel too formal, or whether she'd feel intimidated if they came closer -- when they don't know for sure, they tend to project their own heightened sense of danger on others -- so they settle for tapping a hand with black-painted nails to their chest instead. "You can call me Avarice. Or just 'Ava'. Usually reserved for friends, but I'll give you special privileges."

Passes and special privileges! Mollianne is really a guest of honor in this conversation, it would seem. Her smile doesn't fade in the least, and she seems completely at ease. "My songs tend to do that when I actually sing like a siren. I usually reserve it for ones that mean a lot to me, because it becomes easy to project my emotion onto others in a way that touches their hearts the way it touches mine." Her wings twitch, as if they, too, were recalling a memory of that week. "I have to be careful and make sure the audience knows what to expect, otherwise it is technically a personal violation and considered an attack, and I do not want people pressing charges, you know?" Her tone, while playful, has a subtle undertone that implies the possibility that she knows this from experience. The aquamarine nails on her fingertips glint against the dim light overhead, matching the shine of her eyes as she presses on. "I do enjoy nicknames, all my friends have one even if they do not want one! So you will be 'Ava', then, and you can call me 'Molly'!"

Mollianne catches herself, realizing she chattered on endlessly for a solid minute or two but never actually answered Ava's question. "And I will absolutely be there again next year. I think a lot of people might be really disappointed if I do not. In fact, I just got back from talking to Hikari, and it sounds like she is already putting things in motion for next year, even though this year just ended."

"Explains why it felt so real." Ava looks thoughtful for a fleeting moment, but doesn't dwell on it for too long. "Molly, then. I'm glad I caught you." They flash a grin, before letting her continue. "Yeah? Well you can count on me being there." They pause briefly, throwing a glance to their surroundings. "You in a rush? Don't know if you have somewhere you were headed before this. You said something about a nightclub?"

Mollianne hesitates momentarily before responding, briefly gauging Avarice's age to determine what kind of response to give. "Yep! The Festival of Lights is not the only place I perform. There is a nightclub called 'The Evening Star'..." Mollianne gestures in some location because her player actually hasn't completely determined where it's located, yet, "...where I work on most evenings. I take a day off once in awhile, but when your workplace is also your hobby, it becomes less of something you try to find time away from." She shifts her stance a bit, clasping her hands together behind her back and leaning forward slightly with a small grin. "And yes, I do have a task that needs doing, but no, I am not in a rush. After the past week, it would be nice to relax for a bit before the next grindstone needs my nose put against it." She pauses, uncertain. "Or, like, whatever that weird phrase is. I am not going back to work until tomorrow night, anyway, at the very earliest. The others will be fine without me for one more night."

"We could go there and have a chat if there was something on your mind. It is a good place to 'take a load off,' as the saying goes." Mollianne leans forward juuuust a little further, her stance and tone skirting the very edge of flirtatious.

The rogue listens attentively, catching both what she's saying and what she's leaving out. For the most part, it's innocent curiosity, but Ava likes to understand new situations and people from as many angles as possible. "Isn't a grindstone one of those..." They make a vague gesture. "It's like... literally a rock that spins or something? That sounds like a painful place to have any part of your face near." Pausing after that silly remark, they add something more serious: "You sound like you don't take a lot of time for yourself... but some is better than none, I guess." Maybe it's not their business, but they can't help the observation now that it's come up.

The invitation catches the rogue ever-so-slightly off guard. Avarice had thought to see if she wanted to find nicer surroundings for a chat; they just hadn't expected her to get to it first. Their pause is very short, however, before they give a ready answer. "I'd like that." Studying her face, they wonder if they've given more away than intended. "'Something on my mind', though? Do I seem troubled to you?" Their tone is light and playful, but there's still a bit of genuinely probing intent behind the question.

Mollianne shakes her head very slightly, not actually sure if Avarice was serious about not knowing what a grindstone was or if it was indeed a joke, but in the interest of keeping her own embarrassment level low by not misassuming, she chooses to ignore it altogether since it didn't seem important anyway. "That is probably true; I do not get a lot of free time for myself, but it could be there if I wanted it." She pauses for a second. "...Maybe. But, that is okay! Keeping busy means that everyone knows me really well, which ALSO means that if I ever need anything, there are always plenty of people I can ask." She pulls back into a normal upright standing position, arms still held together behind her back. "I guess you could say that I am kind of a 'celebrity,' I think the word is, but it has more good to go with it than bad. I think so, at least. But, for that same reason, I could only assume that you had something you wanted to talk about because people seem to find it hard to approach me, one-on-one." Mollianne's expression changes slightly, her smile faltering a bit. "I engage with the crowd as best I can and give them everything, but having people directly approach me and ask for even a small conversation does not happen that often. I do not know if maybe they are afraid of me, or maybe think they are not important enough, or perhaps something else." Her smile picks back up again, radiant as before. "So knowing that you did not hesitate to do so actually feels kind of nice, for a change. Maybe you had something important to ask!"

Mollianne doesn't hesitate to go from there, without actually waiting for a full response to that pile of words she just threw down, and proceeds to head down the road with a 'follow-me' gesture toward Avarice. "Come on, I will show you where I work and we can find a seat to chat for awhile. It should be pretty quiet for a few hours yet, anyway, it does not usually pick up until pretty late at night." She intentionally leaves out -why- that is the case, though, for at least the time being. It wasn't a concept she was embarrassed or uncomfortable about; it just wasn't a topic that needed to be brought up at this time!

Something passes over Ava's expression in such a brief flicker that it's hard to identify it. "Yeah? Good that you have so many people looking out for you." They fidget some of their hair away from their face again, almost like they just feel some kind of innate drive to keep their hands occupied when they're not doing anything. They give a soft 'hm' at what she says after that. "Well, their loss."
The rogue starts after her once she turns. Now that they have an in-words invitation, they feel more confident in moving a bit closer to a more conversational distance. "Thanks. I've been on my feet all day so it'll be good to take a break."

Avarice raises their arms over their head, stretching out a little bit of stiffness before they push on with the conversation. "So... Molly, how'd you get started getting up on stage like that?"

Mollianne leads Avarice through the streets of Viorar in a general direction, her taloned feet making audible scapes and skrits across the cobbled road as they travel along. She seems to ignore the comments of praise (at least outwardly), but looks a little caught off guard by the sudden request for her professional origin. In fact, it takes her a few moments to actually collect her thoughts enough to response, which likely makes for an awkward several moments of silent walking before she actually speaks up. "Well, there is kind of a lot that goes into that one," she says, pausing at a corner to think about it for a moment. "The short answer is that I was at my lowest point over a span of many instances where I continuously lost people I cared about, and grasped at straws for whatever sense of 'belonging' I could still find." She turns partway around to face Avarice more fully, her expression hollowing out a bit as she recounts and proceeds to invoke the 'long version'. "I was orphaned when I was very young, when my mother was killed while trying to teach me how to fend for myself. Since then, I bounced from person to person, family to family, never really being able to maintain a 'permanent' place to be with one or the other. I grew up believing that I would just always be an orphan and never belong anywhere. Even as I got older, people just... continued to disappear from my life, as quickly as I would meet them." She lowers her eyes. "Kyrk... the Twins... Crossroads and Lorastine... and then Ambience, too. Everyone would always just disappear. Sometimes they died, sometimes it was for other reasons. But I felt like I was just.. supposed to be alone in the world, I guess." The siren looks up again. "And I hated it. I am a social person. I did not want to be alone."

A small smile crosses Mollianne's face, finding a pleasant memory amongst the bitter ones. "I met a siren named 'Thyrenne,' who had just opened a nightclub in Viorar. She had heard of me because I host a free health clinic for the less-fortunate and shunned subspecies who cannot get help elsewhere." She pauses in her story, gesturing loosely as she backtracks a bit. "I learned alchemy and healing methods from my foster mother, when I was a teenager. She taught me about selflessness and kindness to those less-fortunate than others, and I brought her teachings here with me, when I suddenly found myself here, in this... world, or whatever you call it. But, anyway..." Mollianne picks up again, continuing from where she left off before. "Given that I was a siren, she knew that music and song comes naturally to us, and asked if I would be interested in some auditions for the place." She grins a bit. "I blew away any and all expectations, or so I was told."

Mollianne looks off to the side, turning her gaze off in the direction that, presumably, their destination lies. "'The Evening Star' is a place with a variety of entertainment for a variety of people, which they kind of use as their sales pitch. It is completely open to all races and species and severely condemns prejudice of any kind. We have a floor for people to dance when there's music, and there are performances regularly, which span a large assortment of styles and themes. That song I performed on the final day of the Festival of Lights is a favorite among many of our regulars, which is funny when you think about the idea of people going somewhere because they -want- to leave feeling sorrowful. I think it just touches the hearts of people in ways they cannot feel otherwise, but everyone has their reasons for why they come to see us." Mollianne's expression changes again as she glances back at Avarice, a hint of deviousness creeping over her features. "In the evening hours, we impose an age restriction on anyone entering The Evening Star, because the type of 'entertainment' is allowed to, and often can become, a bit more risqué at that point. It does not -always-, but it can, depending on what the schedule looks like and how the performers are feeling on any given night. For those who go up on stage, everything is left up to them; we do not have a 'requirement' in how we choose to perform. Often, a lot of performances are improvised on-the-spot and have no real preplanning, and they turn out really well that way. I like to think that the people who come to see us approve of our methods, too, if the fact that they keep coming back on a regular basis is any indication."

"The only real complaint we get is that there is no alcohol served there," Mollianne says, as she rounds out her tale. "But it is that way for a good reason. Some people, usually the guys, tend to get really 'handsy' when they are drunk, and we have had to throw some people out for it. So we eliminated that potential problem by just sticking to non-alcoholic drinks. It is a necessary sacrifice to make sure everyone has a good time, performers and visitors alike."

"I found a new 'place to belong' in the eyes of everyone that was happy to see me on a nightly basis, and though some of it may seem artificial at times, that sense of desire to mean something to someone was what I needed, so I attached myself to it." Mollianne smiles happily, in an "all's well than ends well" sort of way.

Ava, for their part, doesn't seem to feel the awkwardness in the silence that follows, figuring Molliane is just figuring out which parts of a story to tell. Both hands find their way back into their pockets, where any fidgeting they continue to do will be less obvious. When she does begin, the rogue's eyes meet hers with a level expression that doesn't seem to change much when she mentions being orphaned. It's only when she keeps going after that that their eyes flicker away for a brief moment, their thus-far generally cheerful expression sobering somewhat.

Avarice has learned, as a rule-of-thumb, that people tend to love talking about themselves. If ever they need to get someone talking for any reason, all they have to do is ask a personal question, and most people will oblige. But to meet someone who is such an open book is somewhat uncommon. They'd been prepared for the more mundane parts of her answer; something about auditioning is what they expected, mostly. The rest was unexpected information -- but it's information they'll take in nonetheless. And speaking of auditions, they do match her grin when that comes up. As they continue down the road the rogue keeps alert at all points, still listening carefully to Molly's tale, but with darting eyes that sometimes travel elsewhere to check a shadow that seemed to move. It's not exactly nervousness; it seems more like an ingrained state of vigilance that's hard to forget, even while carrying a casual conversation.

"Sounds like my kinda place." The point at which that comment comes out, and the crooked look given to Molly, are likely to read as lecherous; though follow-up comment seems less so. "I mean, going and always seeing the exact same performances all the time would get boring. Keeps things fresh. I guess some people like that... sameness... but if it was me I wouldn't wanna be predictable like that. Keeping people guessing is more fun." Ava's eyes are straight ahead, following the path when she mentions the reason the 'no alcohol' rule exists. "Trust me, I know how people can get when they see a pretty thing they feel entitled to. Still, no booze at a nightclub? That's a pretty surprising choice. Glad to hear it seems to be working out for you." Their voice wavers in a bit of a dubious way.

That's not really the point that Avarice ends up getting stuck on, though. It's the conclusion of her tale that has the rogue's gaze fixing on her with an intensity like they're trying to see through her, and that has them really deviating from their self-assigned role of 'supportive fan.' "Really? That doesn't bother you?" The smirk that twists their lips now seems far less warm than they've been this far. "It doesn't keep you up at night, thinking about what happens when you do something they don't like, or they find the next best thing and move on? All those other people you mentioned... the ones that let you down, and you're fine with putting that sense of belonging in the hands of a bunch of strangers?"

If there was any lecherousness to be found in Ava's initial comment or demeanor, Mollianne didn't acknowledge or seem at all disturbed in any way by it. She did, after all, literally just open up willingly that she works at a glorified strip club. "It is because everybody has different tastes, and since we want to cater to as many people as possible, we have several different performers who have different fields they work best in." She pauses again along the way, grinning back at Ava. "And then there is me, of course, who is good at everything." It's.. actually hard to tell if that was a joke or if she was actually being egotistical. "And sometimes there are even two or three of us performing on stage at once, especially for certain songs that sound better with different tones and octaves. You saw some of that during the Festival of Lights, too, I bet." She pauses again, partway down a new street, as she considers Avarice's comment about the alcohol, but then before she gets a chance to remark about it, there comes the inquisition about her being emotionally-hindered by past transgressions. This -definitely- gives her pause for thought, so much so that she has to turn around once more to face Ava head-on before she responds. "Ava, what makes you 'happy'?" Her question is completely open and honest, her face indicating that she wants to hear a real and truthful answer.

Avarice responds positively to that 'good at everything' comment, the rogue's face actually brightening in the moment. There was no laughter, so it may have been taken seriously, but apparently, a show of ego doesn't bother them in the least. "Happy?" Ava echoes the word, before making a quiet, dismissive noise. "I don't really think about it. 'Happy' is for people with too much time on their hands to think too hard about everything." Something about Molly's look presses them into giving a little more than that. "If I'm alive, and I'm better off than I was yesterday, that's good enough for me. I don't need to be 'happy'."

Mollianne's face looks like she's processing the answer over the course of a few moments, as if there were a roulette wheel spinning in her head to land on whatever the appropriate "way to feel about it" is. In the end, she settles for a small smile and a nod, along with an "I see." She turns back around and prepares to continue onward without further comment, but is immediately stopped by something else that catches her attention. With a slight frown, she reaches down the front of her frock and withdraws a small, translucent, egg-shaped jewel attached to a band around her neck, which proceeds to gleam and pulse with a soft but insistent light. The siren raises her eyes and peers down the length of the street ahead of them, with an uncertain expression. "Looks like you are not the only one planning on giving me a welcome back from the festival..." Her tone feels a little grim but also cynical, matching well with her expression.

Being brushed off after asking a set of bluntly prying questions is something Ava could understand; unfortunately, they're the sort who doesn't always listen to the voice telling them that it's time to let a subject go. As she turns, they say, "So is that it? It makes --"

The rogue cuts themself off at that point, putting two-and-two together that Molliane isn't leading anymore, watches her produce the jewel, and catches the shift in her expression. Avarice's eyes travel down the street in the direction she's looking as they withdraw one of their hands from their pocket and let it rest at their side instead. Without looking at the siren again, they ask, "Somethin' up?"

"Yup," is all she says, gently closing her fingers around the trinket. The glow becomes a shining light that escapes between her fingers, and Ava may recognize what happens next as remarkably similar to what took place at the start of Mollianne's final performance during the Festival of Lights. In a measure of simultaneous fashion, a brilliant sphere of crackling white energy abruptly and spontaneously encases Mollianne's form within, threads of magical power arcing off the surface thereof. Outside of this, a man yells out in fear from the next street over as a hulking, gray-skinned beast comes lumbering out into the road Mollianne and Avarice currently reside upon. The creature is misshapen and has no eyes to speak of, only a huge maw with several rows of jagged teeth and a snakelike tongue that looks to be having trouble staying in its mouth. The creature issues a feral scream at the same moment as the sphere of light containing Mollianne just-as-suddenly breaks apart, shards of residual light falling away to reveal a different version of the same siren that went inside just moments before. Currents of violet electricity arc between her fingers as Mollianne, now clad in a mostly-torn-apart gothic-lolita-style dress that just barely passes for actual "clothing," stares down the vicious-looking beast at the far end of the road. Her irises have gone from a soft and gentle aquamarine to a harsh and feral reflective silver, and she bares her fangs menacingly, echoing that feral sentiment shown in her eyes. On her left wrist is a small yet ornate bracelet, which now contains the egg-shaped jewel once worn around her neck.

At the same instant of the yell, Ava's pocketed hand retreats to the small of their back and a 'shhk' noise results from them drawing their knife from a belt-sheath. They hold it at the ready slightly in front of them, shifting out of their casual stance to one more ready to move. It's a plain and unadorned blade, unremarkable in design, but well-made. The other hand is still empty and at their side.
Once they've spotted the beast before them, they hiss out a "Shit," quickly deciding they may be under-equipped for this face-off. Eyes would normally present a tempting weak spot on a creature bigger than them, but, well, they're not sure how well targeting a lack of eyes will work. Wetting their lips nervously, they pat a spot over their jacket as if to double check that something is still there, then, while staying level with Molliane's side, take a few steps to put the distance between them that the width of the street will allow, so that if the beast charges, it will have to more clearly pick a target. They haven't so much as glanced at Molliane since her change began. There's a time and place for admiring lovely sirens, but this isn't it.

"It is recent," Mollianne says, her tone even and neutral, but also carrying a subtle, vibratory echo to it. "He must have turned within the hour." She exhales through her nose, eyes narrowing. "Wait here, this will be quick." And without even waiting for a response, a blast of sudden wind assails the immediate area around her and Avarice, and she launches herself through the air toward the beast, her wings opening enough to put her into a high-speed glide. The violet sparks escalate between her fingers as she goes, becoming thin lines of purple light that dance from fingertip to fingertip.

The beast notes this act of aggression and charges forward as well, swiping at and knocking a barrel of produce out of the way in its blind fury toward the charging siren (and Ava too!) without regard for anything else. Wicked claws are seen at the ends of its large and muscular arms, one of them rearing back in preparation for when their distance closes enough to strike.

A lot of information is being thrown at Avarice that they don't have a lot of time to process. Instead they stumble slightly as the wind throws them off balance, and they wait exactly one beat into the two charging at each other before giving an emphatic "Fuck this."

Placing the handle of the knife between their teeth, Ava's attention turns to the building on their left, which is fortunately a bit squat compared to the others along this street. They spring up in a fairly impressive show of athleticism, hands grasping at the edge of the roof and pulling their body up until they can swing a leg over and scrabble onto it. Turning, the rogue crouches at the edge of the roof, watching from a new vantage point that feels a bit less vulnerable.

The distance closes pretty quickly between both charging creatures, but Mollianne's lack of concern for her own safety and well-being while engaging in such a head-on assault seems to imply that she knows what she's in doing. With practiced ease, Mollianne rotates her body half a circle in the air as she glide, turning upside down as the beast opposing her prepares to come down upon her small frame with one of his massive paw-claws. Right before impact, though, the siren seems to engage an air-brake of sorts, and lines of purple energy lace themselves between her fingers as she springs -out- of the glide and flips herself up and over the beast's hulking frame; as she does, the lines of purple light weave outward from her fingers, creating thin strands that flow like spider-webbing. Mollianne clears herself over the beast in her aeronautical maneuver and simultaneously pulls her hands toward herself, which draws back in those lines of purple light, coming to wrap around the monster's neck not unlike a garrote. The beast, unfortunately, swings late in its surprise at Mollianne jumping over him and shrieks in dismay at the lines of light coming to wrap around its neck, flailing and attempting to disengage from whatever trap its found itself in.

As if from out of nowhere in particular, a small white cat-like creature, decorated about its body with red markings and bearing odd, fluffy appendages that protrude from its ears, comes casually strolling in from the far end of the street where Mollianne and Avarice just were, a few moments ago, and calmly sits down, seemingly unperturbed by the events taking place. Its bright red eyes regard the fight taking place with mild-mannered complacency, the expression one might give to an everyday occurrence.

The rogue doesn't know if Molly is reckless or just justifiably confident -- they don't have to wonder for long, though, as they've barely had time to perch in their new spot before she makes her move. Avarice watches with the same rapt fascination as if she were putting on a show -- and who's to say she isn't? With the creature snared, they take their knife back in hand and chance a look at their surroundings, not about to let their guard down even if it looks like one threat may be neutralized. White fur catches their eye, and they stare down the cat -- is it a cat? -- with a moderate degree of curiosity. They don't take their attention off Molly for long, but the cat-or-whatever is now in their awareness, watched from the corner of their eye.

Mollianne unfolds her wings and wraps them about herself, allowing her to press her own back up against the back of the beast as she holds the threads of light tightly against its throat, brought around the sides and still connected to her fingertips. She grins, twirling her fingers lightly and causing the light strings to tighten against the beast's neck, causing it to give out a garbled choke as it still desperately tries to lash out at the siren from its blind spots, but is held fast. "Tsugi ha umaku iku to ii... ne?" she says, the echo in her voice resonating slightly with each word. Her grin turns into a giggle, which itself turns into a sadistic laugh as she suddenly yanks her hands forward; the threads of light connected to her fingers suddenly crackle with power as they proceed to slice through the beast's neck as if it were made of butter, cleanly severing its head from the rest of its body. The head rolls a few feet away over the cobblestones before coming to rest and, understandably, the body only remains upright for a second or so as the life leaves it, slumping to the ground as black blood trickles out of the inflicted neck wound.

As the beast's body slides lifelessly to the ground, Mollianne leans further back upon it until she is literally lying atop the corpse; the violet light at her fingers dissipates, and her laughter eventually subsides as well. Her wings unfurl from around her body and spread flat against the beast's body where she lay, and she digs her talons into the carcass of the creature, arching her back in a provocatively-lewd pose that is made moreso by the fact that her shredded dress is only barely-there in the first place.

The cat-creature, still seated at the other end of the street, seems to shake its head, and then (perhaps surprisingly) speaks. "She's like a cat, still playing with its prey after it's already expired." Whomever it is talking to, though, is left to speculation.

Avarice's own face splits into a not-entirely-wholesome grin and their eyes light up at the display of violence, along with the siren's apparent enthusiasm in committing it. Their hand tightens on the handle of their weapon, as if with the impulse to put it to use. This time they'll just have to settle for watching.
Leaning forward, Ava openly admires Molliane's display atop the now-dead beast, licking their lips once. They really are treating it as if it were a show put on entirely for their benefit. Then again, from what they know of Molly, they're pretty sure she would not object to the attention she's getting. Scooting forward slightly, the rogue lets their legs dangle over the side of the roof, but remains where they are for now. "You didn't look like you needed any help," they quip cheekily.

Glancing down the street briefly and then back at Molly, Avarice jabs a thumb in its direction. "Do you know the cat?"

Mollianne tilts her head back, looking upside-downedly at Avarice from their perch on the roof, and flashes them a fangy grin, holding her pose for a moment longer before finally rolling off the corpse and pulling her wings back in. The siren promptly raises one of her feet over the felled beast and, with one quick rake of her wickedly-sharp talons, carves a deep three-line gash in the side of the thing, which she -then- proceeds to drive her hand into the newly-made wound, making a nice wet -splortch- sound as she seems to feel around inside of it for something. "I do, actually," she finally responds to Avarice, her tone playful and light, a steep contrast to the grimness she was displaying pre-engagement, and an arguably-even-steeper contrast to the activity she's currently engaged in at the moment. "Give me ooooone second..."
The 'cat' merely watches and waits, it's fluffy tail waving lightly about its backside. "All the world truly is a stage for this one, it seems," it says, again without directed intent. "But I suppose you can't argue that she gets the job done, at least." Its tone is comically-neutral, not giving way to any inflection or intonation that might make it seem like it actually feels one way or another about anything.
Mollianne only grins further at the comment, seeming to find what she's looking for after only a couple moments of desecrating the dead beast, and withdraws her bloodied forearm, clutching what appears to be a black crystalline gem of some kind. "There it is!" she says cheerily.

"I suppose it is just as well that this one came about," Mollianne remarks, holding the bloody gem close to the bracelet where the egg-shaped jewel is inset. A thin band of siphoning light seems to trail from one to the other as they are held close. "The last performance at the festival did a number on me."

Avarice seems completely unaffected by Molly goring open a hole in the carcass, not seeming to find it, or her current mood strange at all. With the confirmation that she is familiar with the other observer, they let their shoulders relax, throwing one more glance up and down the road for anything else that might seem out of place before deciding they're satisfied. Their weapon finds its way back to the belt-sheath, leaving both hands free again.

Flipping over where they sit, Ava lets their body slide down in a way that looks awfully precarious and then catches the roof with their hands, dangling for a moment with a look down to gage the remaining distance before dropping to the street. Turning on their heel, the rogue eyes the 'cat' with a smirk -- they're really only thinking of it as one for lack of something better to call it. "Can you really blame her for showing off when she looks that good doing it?" Attention turning back to the beast's remains, they step casually over to the decapitated head and bend down to look at it a little closer. "Shame all your eager fans can't be as pretty as I am." They focus on Molliane once again, specifically the interaction between the gem and the egg jewel. Curiosity gets the better of them quickly, leading to them deciding to outright ask instead of adding any more commentary. "What's that?"

The cat glances upward at Avarice as it is spoken to, but other than a short blink of its round red eyes, offers no audible response, merely seeming content to wait for the siren to finish her business so that it can finish it's own, whatever that may be.

Mollianne, herself, grins up at Avarice as they draw near, not even pretending that she's not pleased with herself. "There is nothing wrong with being proud of what you are good at," she responds. "I do not know if you are aware of anything about what I just did, but I will give you the short version and say that this is a 'grief seed' and it prevents me from becoming one of those. Sorta." She nods at the corpse as she continues the transfusion between the black crystal and her own. "Of course, I would be MUCH worse than anything like that one if I turned, but that is to be expected." The boast in her voice is unabashed and borderline obnoxious, especially given the grim concept upon which she's expounding upon.

Ava just blinks, not showing any depth of understanding on their face. "Nah. Didn't really mean anything to me." They turn the new information over in their head, trying to figure out if there's anything about it they should really follow up on. Since Molliane was terribly casual about dropping the revelation that she could turn into a whatever-that-was, Ava doesn't make a fuss about it. Molly's next statement draws a laugh from them. "Of course. You'd be an absolute goddamn nightmare." Pause. "You seem like you got it handled though." Ava's tone is still conversational, but now they're scrutinizing the siren a little more closely, like they're looking for a sign that she might be either under strain or changing.

Mollianne's expression flickers slightly at the expletive so close by, but she maintains her grin over the praise as her task seems to complete. "I have been doing this for several years at this point, even before I got involved with the stage." Her grin falters slightly, but only slightly, though her tone changes just a little bit, sounding a touch less carefree. "There are some mistakes that you have to spend the rest of your life dealing with the consequences of." She looks up at Avarice, smiling at them with a residual feral gleam in her silver eyes. "But that is why it is important to enjoy the work you have to do, and to find joy in the little things." She casts a corner-eyed glance at the headless corpse. "For some of us, 'being happy' could be the difference between life or death. That is why I put a hundred percent into everything I do." She narrows her eyes slightly, lifting up the hand she's holding onto the black crystal with, and ensures that she's meeting Ava's gaze as she gives a slow, seductive lick across the length of one of her bloodied fingers, before moving to walk past them and towards the cat-creature at the other end of the street.

Avarice's expression levels out, eyebrows raising. Their responses usually come out fairly quickly, but they actually fall silent for a few seconds, like they're actually considering what she's said, this time. Whatever that thinking was, it's is derailed with that little display with the crystal, the rogue's eyes fixed on her as a little bit of warmth rises to their cheeks. They shake their head slightly as she turns away, as if trying to dislodge a thought. They give a short, huffy sigh and turn away slightly, reaching into pockets on either side of their jacket and withdrawing a cigarette and lighter. Setting the roll between their lips, they light the end and take a drag from it, giving Molly a chance to handle her business. They're still paying attention; just outwardly making a show of not doing so.

The cat-thing looks up at Mollianne. "Finished prancing around for the time being, have you?" it asks, without an actual trace of annoyance.

Mollianne grins. "For now," she responds, holding the crystal upright. A red, teardrop-shaped marking on the cat-creature's back suddenly lights up, the surface of which becomes non-solid, like that of a still pond. As this happens, Mollianne deposits the crystal -into- this strange 'slot' on its back, with all the general manner of someone plunking a coin into a piggy bank. The cat-thing's back immediately re-solidifies thereafter.

"There wasn't a lot in that one," it says. "I remember him, too. Last week, I think? Very unfortunate."

Mollianne gives the cat-thing an odd look. "That would mean a lot more if you actually thought it was unfortunate," she said. She raises her arms and stretches, grunting softly from the effort. "But it feels good to stretch my wings a bit, as the saying goes. Normally I have to wait until I go on stage before to get that kind of appreciation." She casts a side glance half-behind her, in Ava's direction, but doesn't make it terribly obvious. "Was that the only one, then?"
The cat-thing tilts its head. "For now," it says, echoing Mollianne's earlier comment. "I feel as though something is amiss lately, though, but I can't quite put my paw on what it is. I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later."

Mollianne smirks. "THAT sure is reassuring," she remarks.

As the two are talking, Ava idly paces a few feet in one direction, then steps back the way they came, eyes first on the ground, then rising to gaze at the always-night sky as they take a couple more drags. They feel no urge to butt into this conversation; it doesn't particularly concern them, anyway. They do throw a cursory glance in Molliane's direction at one point, but they don't really look impatient. It's a breather for them; an opportunity to get their thoughts in order. Their aimless steps take them back towards the decapitated body of the thing, and they crouch down, their half-vacant stare settling on it as they breathe out a curtain of smoke. They zone out a bit like that, occupied with some line of thinking -- or maybe just not thinking much at all. It's not exactly easy to tell.

The headless beast has apparently stopped bleeding from the neck at this point, at least, leaving a nice, big, murky black puddle amidst the cobbles where it happened.

"I wasn't intending to be reassuring," the cat-thing says, clearly averse to sarcasm. "But I would recommend keeping your guard up and your eyes open, especially if you plan to continue spending time with that boy of yours. Don't get sloppy." And with that, the cat-thing turns and simply walks away with all the proud dissociation of a normal feline that suddenly has something else better to do than be right here.

Mollianne watches it leave, putting a hand in her hip, taking a moment to fully tuck her wings in against her back. "I was not expecting a 'thank-you' or anything, but being accused of perpetual carelessness was kind of uncalled-for." The siren runs a hand through her hair a bit haughtily.
Mollianne seems to consider something for a moment, then, with a broad, sweeping-arm gesture, her visage seems to fracture and split along invisible seams. Like shards of broken glass, pieces of her 'transformation' swiftly fall away and disperse into nothingness, leaving her standing there as she was a short time before, purple frock and all. Her eyes, now their original aquamarine hue, have softened as well, devoid of the erstwhile feral disposition they once held. With a small flash of light, the translucent egg-shaped pendant also reappears at her throat, and she tucks it back into the neckline of her dress.

Ava looks up when Molly is talking at the cat-thing's back, eyebrows lifting once more. Seeing that she looks to be done, they get in one last pull before rising to their feet, dropping the stub and stomping it out under the heel of their boot, hands once more finding a place in their pants pockets afterwards. Looking a bit more subdued than they did when they first greeted Molly, they approach her while she's reverting to her original outfit, chewing on their lower lip for a moment. "You know, I think I've heard that exact same nag before." As they draw near, harsh scent of cigarette is fortunately fairly well masked by vanilla. "Do you normally talk about all this with anyone who asks?"

Rather than respond immediately, Mollianne takes a moment to reach up to the side-ponytail in her hair, pulling free the tie that is holding it in place and shaking her head vigorously to straighten her hair out to its normal bob. This -mostly- works, except for a minor tuft left on that side of her head that won't quite smooth out on its own, but since she can't see it, it goes unnoticed. "Kyuubey is like that, you just have to learn to ignore it," she says as she turns around, seeming a bit more demure than she was in her other form. At the mention of her willingness to open up, she smiles with genuine pleasantry, and nods. "There are not many who ask, so I do not get the opportunity very often when it does arise. I can count on one hand the number of people who have asked anything about me other than 'how are you tonight?' or 'are you going to be performing tomorrow, too?', things like that." She ponders this for a moment. "In fact, I probably need to thank you for not running away from that, just now. I try to keep my 'side job' under wraps, but sometimes it cannot be helped, and I can sense their fear of me when they see it happen. It is different here, out in the open and when your life is on the line, than it is as a production stunt on stage." Her smile falters slightly, but only slightly, as she clasps her hands together in front of herself, facing Ava fully. "I am still just a beast at heart, after all."

Ava tries to keep a straight face at the untidy tuft of hair sticking out. It's a strangely endearing detail, maybe because up until now, they haven't been sure whether anything Molliane has shown them was anything more than an extension of her usual stage persona. They simply shrug about the comment about Kyuubey, since at the moment, they're not sure if they're likely to ever cross paths with the creature again.

"People are like that. They don't really think about anyone else. If it seems like they do, they probably want something, or they're selling you something." Apparently thinking nothing about making such a cynical remark off-the-cuff, they draw their shoulders up and let them drop in another shrug. "Trust me, in terms of freakout-worthy moments in my life that didn't even make my top five. Maybe top ten. Maybe." Ava shifts their weight to one hip, studying the siren's expression. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Mollianne glances down the length of the street in which they were originally headed. "I am sure there are plenty of people like that. Maybe even a majority. But not all of them." She smiles again, but there's something about this particular smile that feels a bit wistful, and she seems to be avoiding eye contact. "You know, I never really answered your question from before. It feels relevant, now, thinking about people in that way. When I get up on that stage and people cheer for me and yell my name, who they are and what they do is something I think about, and it drives me to do my best. The one thing I know is that what I am doing is making them happy, if only for a brief moment. Maybe they have a rough home life. Maybe they just suffered through a harsh breakup or lost somebody important and need a momentary escape. But I see their smiles and I hear their voices, and whether they appreciate me for my voice or my body, it makes them happy, whatever the reason." She then gives Ava a look, her expression changing into a silly grin. "Of course, I am not going to pretend I do not like being in the spotlight, regardless. But it seems like most of them feel like they are being respectful by keeping their distance from me, after I leave the stage. I kind of wish more of them would be like you and just say what is on their mind, more often. The Goddess knows -I- do not have that problem." One little fang pokes out beyond her upper lip, cutely.

"I fit in as well as I can with the others, but I am not from Fa'diel, and some indicators are more obvious than others," she continues. "I am less... domesticated than the other siren here." She thinks for a moment, still grinning to herself. "That may not be the best word to use, but I think it fits. My mother was killed because she was trying to teach me how to feed on my own. My kind need blood once a week for certain nutrition that we cannot get otherwise. Part of what you saw of me, just now, was an act. But most of it was not. It really does feel good, sometimes, to throw caution to the wind and tear things apart without consequence. But I am conscious enough to know right from wrong, and I can keep these feelings suppressed on most days." This last statement of hers carries a strange inclination to it, but she doesn't elaborate further.

There's enough of an agreement in Molly's reply that Ava doesn't feel the need to argue; it's not hard to concede that exceptions exist to the rule. "You say that now." They match her grin, finding it infectious. "Not ever something I've had a problem with, either. Known a lot of folks who wanted me to bite my tongue. But if I have something to say, I'm gonna say it." Head canting slightly to one side while they absorb this information, the thief seems, as usual, not even a little put off by the more gruesome details of the siren's life. "I get that. Not the needing blood part, but I mean... cutting loose feels good. People got all these rules they want you to follow. Say this, don't do that, stand this way, keep your hands to yourself, please and thank you... it never ends. Sometimes it feels like a fight is the only time I can get a little crazy and nobody asks any questions about it after." A bit of recognition lights up their eyes. "Does getting on stage ever feel anything like that? You said there's a lot of improv when you get up there."

The siren giggles softly when Avarice mentions their aversion to the generally-lawful brand of society in general, and nods in agreement. "I am sure that I probably get away with my share of corner-cutting, too, but I also have people to cover for me because of my publicity, too." She stops, thinking on her own statement. "Sometimes, anyway. The fact that few people really know what I am like beyond the voice means that I have to be a little more careful in public, since I do not want to drag the nightclub reputation through the mud, either. And, since you mention it..." Mollianne beams, apparently pretty keen on continuing to talk about herself. "...being on stage is very much like that. We have a general plan and maybe a song to follow, but that is as far as it goes, most of the time. The last performance during the Festival of Lights was a good example. The song was there, and I had planned my transformation to bring out the most of my voice and that influence. The mirror imaging was also set to change at key points during the routine. But that was it." She looks just a touch somber, remembering. "The movements, the tears, the emotion... even that boy that ran up on stage. None of that was planned. I lose myself in the music, in the moment, in the feelings that get stirred up from all of it, and my body just feels like it is moving by itself." Her smile recedes into a familiar grin. "Maybe it is because I am a siren, but music flows for me much like the blood in my veins. I am sure it is like that for others, though, too."

A glimmer comes into Ava's eyes while Molliane is talking about the experience of performing. "When I was a kid I thought I wanted that. Used to think about it all the time. I had all these ideas about what I'd do if I had the chance to be in front of people, just once." They shake their head. "But I mean, who doesn't? Everyone thinks they missed out on bein' a rock star or something."

Mollianne is quiet for a moment. "It was a lifestyle change that I would not have expected even five years ago. I spent all of my childhood and most of my youth hiding from everyone because I was always treated like a monster. I mentioned this earlier, but I had a hard time finding a place to belong. When my mother was killed, a family found me and took me in, but then left me at the orphanage because I was... well, feral. I lived on a rock in the middle of the ocean for eight years after being hatched, what did they expect?" She sounds undeniably bitter as she recounts the memories, her good humor abruptly dropping off and again avoiding eye contact. "I bit and scratched the other children when they picked on me, so they threw me out to fend for myself. I found another foster mother, but after the 'novelty' wore off, she started being physically and verbally abusive. I ran away from that place and went back to the streets. I got caught attacking someone because I had not received blood for several weeks, but another woman who saw it happen spoke on my behalf and took me into her home." Mollianne's expression softens. "Her name was 'Vireyda' and she was an herbalist, a healer. I lived with her and her family, and she spent several years giving me a life worth living, without scrutinizing me for my shortfalls. I learned a lot of things from her, and when I suddenly found myself pulled away and brought here, I wanted to continue practicing what she taught me." She looks up at Ava, happy once more. "The nightclub is really, mostly just a hobby that pays me for doing what I already like to do. But I use a lot of that money to host a free health clinic, two weekends a month, for the less fortunate and subspecies who are shunned by others because of who and what they are. It... definitely pushed my reputation a bit further than I intended. But I was already in the spotlight for other reasons, anyway, so heck, why not come at it from both sides, you know?"

All of this pours out of Mollianne like she were just dictating a journal entry or something. No filter, no holding back, nothing.

Ava's brow creases as Molly goes into the less pleasant parts of her childhood and upbringing, and they end up drawing their lower lip between their teeth and gnawing on it lightly as their eyes distance a bit. They eventually look back at Molliane's meeting her eyes. "Good that you got off the streets when you did." They shift their weight, gaze drifting a bit to the side. "Could have been a lot different if you didn't. A lot of kids don't get so lucky." They seem to instantly regret letting their mouth run away from them and shake their head, looking at the siren again. "Nevermind. You already knew that anyway. You ever feel like it's too much, maybe? Feel like getting away from it all?"

"Luck was very probably a big part of it," Mollianne agrees. If she'd noticed Ava's fluctuating facial features, she didn't bring it up or allow her own features to mirror any acknowledgement. "I got lucky in a lot of ways." Her smile remains, perhaps with an ounce of coyness associating with it at this time. "My situation is one that cannot be escaped from, and, fortunately, it is tolerable enough to where I do not need to consider alternatives." She pauses briefly, letting the gears turn as she tries to think up something she might be inclined to remove herself from. "I cannot lie and say I do not have days where I am overwhelmed, though. I--" Mollianne catches herself right as she starts in on another expository crusade, but, for some reason, stops and thinks better of it; a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks may allude to some embarrassing reason why, but she doesn't open up about it, and slightly changes the subject instead.
Mollianne glances back toward the headless carcass behind them, then squarely at Ava. "That is something that there is no running from, if I had to think about something I wish I could have made a better decision about." The siren offers a faint grin that starts to form as she speaks the word "wish", as if finding some wry humor in it. "I made a foolish decision where I thought I was helping someone out, and taking down those things, whenever they show up, is part of my obligation if I want to avoid becoming one myself."

"That, too..." she trails off briefly, her wings giving a small twitch, "...has people relying on me. It always comes back to that, somehow. Kind of funny, really. You would think that with as much admiration and responsibility as I have, I would be less lonely on a regular basis. It is too bad there are not more people like you, Ava." Mollianne's tone is genuine and there is little doubt she is being sincere. "Even Ambience has things he has to do where I cannot follow, a lot of times." She shakes her head suddenly, as if casting off her own doubt before it even forms. "But that is okay! I have a good life. And I can share it with others, which makes it even better."

As much of an open book as Molliane has been to date, Ava is incredibly curious what sort of detail would make her cut herself off like that, though the moment passes without them pushing her about it.

"I don't think the world is prepared to handle more people like me." A shameless grin splits the thief's face, leaving no doubt that it was very much a self-aggrandizing comment being made. They run their fingers through their hair idly, piecing together context clues. The way she said that made it sound like she was speaking of someone she'd normally expect to be able to stay with -- which would generally be either family, or a romantic partner, and the assumption seems like the natural one. "Ambience is your man? Is that who came up on stage, at the end?"

This causes Mollianne to avert her gaze entirely and also prevent her from responding with any haste. "I do not.. know, yet. The way things are spoken between us are complex, and I am still sorting out my feelings, too. I like... being around him. And he also has never judged me for anything I have done or said." She looks up, but only to turn her head in the other direction. "As for him, I cannot be sure, either. He is extremely hard to read, sometimes, but I know his life has been difficult. I cannot push myself on him, otherwise it might.. drive him away." She looks really sad, all of a sudden, and then looks up at Avarice, finally. "I had someone important to me, when I was younger. People used the word 'smitten', which was accurate even though I did not know what it meant at the time. I tried to be with him at every single opportunity I could. He seemed to approve of me. My foster mother was terrified on my behalf, and she tried to talk me down numerous times from it. But I thought I knew better and I did what I wanted. He was..." She stops, needing a second to compose herself before proceeding. "He was a bad person. A very bad person."
"He hurt people. He killed people. He tortured people. Some of it he had reasons for doing, but a lot of times, he said it was fun. I turned a blind eye to it even though it made me uncomfortable, and occasionally I told his naysayers that maybe it was the victim's own fault. I really.. was not much better than he was, but I refused to let him go." Mollianne exhales through her nose, clearly distraught by the memories, but somehow feeling obligated to share them anyway.

"One day, I--" She stops herself yet again, the same faint crimson showing up across her face as she re-words whatever it was she almost dropped. "I did something he did not like. I did not mean to do it, but I could not help it. I could not help what I was. But he did not care. When I met with him again, he made sure my foster mother was there. He drew his sword and then stabbed me, right in front of her. I should have died, but while I was in a coma, somebody else important to me sacrificed themself so that I could live." Mollianne closes her eyes, frowning. "When I saw him again, he just smirked at me and asked me why I bothered coming back." She opens her eyes again and offers a very faint, soft chuckle. "Just the first of many bad decisions I would make along the way." She sighs. "I guess it forces me to retain some self doubt about things like that. Liking someone, whether he is or is not 'mine,' how to deal with these feelings... It is all very complex, and I am afraid of making the wrong decision a second time."

Ava looks, understandably, a bit surprised at the turn Molly's response takes. They're just trying to think of a way to change the subject when she dives into yet another story from her life. Their expression grows more serious, all signs of the grin they'd worn just a moment before vanishing. Something that might begin to become clear in the moments that follow is that while Ava has been social up to this point, they've also been proceeding with a certain degree of detachment the entire time, playing out a persona that they've grown very used to. This is the first time that real sympathy has crossed their expression, a frown joining with eyes that look almost pained at the edges.

When she comes to a conclusion, they grasp for a response that seems sincere. "It's... not like we can really choose who we feel that way about. It kinda just tends to happen. And sometimes the people we care about end up being the fucking worst." One of their arms lifts slightly, and then drops again, like they'd immediately thought better of whatever they had been about to do. They seem to be suddenly struggling with meeting her eyes. Rubbing at the back of her neck, they take half a step back, turning a little away from her and focusing on looking at literally anything else. "Listen, Molly. I like you, so I think you should know that I'm not -- I'm not what you'd call a good person. I don't want you to have that idea in your head." While the rogue is searching for something else to add, the chatter of some kind of bird fills the air, and their expression grows a bit tense. If Molly is paying attention, she might notice that the bird call is one that's not from a species that's native to this region.

Beyond music, birds are another thing the siren is pretty adept at knowing, being half of one, herself. While she does recognize it and possibly realizes that it's a specie from elsewhere, it doesn't seem to distract her a whole lot, as Ava's comment about not being a good person seems to take precedent in her immediate frame of attention. "Are you going to stab me?" The suddenness of such a statement would be funny if she were still in a whimsical mood as before, but there's no smile on her face. Conversely, she clasps her arms behind her back, completely open and unguarded. It seems.. an odder question still, considering what Avarice literally just told her with regards to how they felt.

That actually catches them a bit off guard, enough that they look at Molly again. For the briefest of moments there's the same intensity on their face that you'd expect from a cornered animal, then it's wiped out by disbelief. "What? No -- I'm not going to -- I don't want to hurt you." They shake their head, swearing very quietly under their breath. "I'm just not a good or -- safe person to be around, is all I mean. You don't want to get mixed up with me."

This causes Mollianne to break into a grin, despite the very obviously-serious tone their conversation has turned. "I should be terrified right now," she says, a statement that greatly contrasts her current expression. "These words you are saying to me, right now, are almost word-for-word exactly what Kaine tried to tell me when I insisted on staying by his side. I can still hear him telling me 'that I do not want to get mixed up with a guy like him' all over again. This is.. what is that weird word..." She has to think for a second, then snaps her fingers loudly, her wings bristling slightly as it comes to mind. "Deja vu. Yes, that." She takes a step toward Avarice, an odd look in her eyes. "He tried to brush me off. And I refused. It nearly cost me my life. He even tried to get my foster mother to reel me in, but I refused to let go. And, all the while, he did not physically push me away, which I took to be a sign that he accepted me, despite his warnings." She takes another step forward, closing in pretty tightly at this point. "But, I do have something I need to say about that, if I may." She stops advancing, probably uncomfortably close, depending on Ava's personal space bubble. She waits for permission to speak further, apparently.

Impossibly, Ava grins back at her, but with the intense look still haunting their eyes it really makes them look more unhinged than friendly. They, notably, are not moving, though, either to move away from her or to get closer to her. They seem to be frozen at the moment. "Sounds like something that shoulda been a learning experience, Molly." They exhale shakily, seeming, weirdly, almost borderline panicked given that nothing has really happened. In fact, they didn't seem remotely this bothered when the beast attacked. In contrast, they seemed to have no trouble figuring out how to react at that moment. "What?"

Mollianne assumes that Avarice's refusal to move is an acceptance in her proximity, and with that assumption in mind, she leans in as if she were to whisper something in their ear, some darker secret she'd been holding out on, this whole time... But nope. Instead, she plants a smooch on Ava's cheek instead, and THEN steps back, spontaneously returning to full whimsicality once more. "Something you can take away from our encounter today is that the lessons I learn are not often the easy ones. But, just the same and again, I give one hundred percent into everything I do, and that includes being foolish." Her smile is broad and genuine, and as she spoke, she busied herself with extracting something from down the front of her dress, seemingly pulling what looks like a business card, from... somewhere, which she offers to Avarice. "I will be on stage two nights from today. You will come and see me, right?"

Ava's mouth drops open slightly at the kiss, and they work it trying to make words come out for a couple of seconds before shaking their head. They seem completely at a loss of how to respond to her, until they finally start laughing, loud and incredulous. "Girl, you are touched in the head." Reaching to take the business card from her, they tuck it away in one of their many pockets, their expression struggling to return to something resembling normalcy. "I can't promise I'll be there, but I'll do what I can." They throw a glance over their shoulder down the street, then look back at her, looking more serious. "I really do gotta go though. Have someone waiting on me. I'll have to come see the nightclub another night."

Mollianne nods. "You seemed as though someone was calling your name, there, just now. It was not very subtle." She smiles again. "Be safe wherever you go, so that if it is not at the club when I see you next, it can be somewhere else instead." With a graceful half-spin, Mollianne trots off down the street in the direction they were originally headed, not bothering to use her wings this time.

Avarice huffs quietly at that remark, but says nothing. "Yeah. I'll be fine. You look after yourself, alright?" The rogue watches her go for a moment or two before heading off in the other direction, on the way to rendezvous with their unnamed associate.