Re: by the bar: OPEN (come say hellooooooooo)
One moment she'd been in full, zombie glory, dressed like someone on laundry day. There had been a party, full of people and and lights and sound, which was still very much there...it had just gotten bigger? Or had she gotten smaller.
Goodness gracious, she was a bird. But while this might have been startling to Pru, it was not to The Morrigan. Not she who was used to flight over battlefields, to choose as she might amongst the dead. The Morrigan's Acorns, they called it when she had her pick of the heads of the slain. At that particular moment, however, she was wrestling her way out of a green zip-up hoodie that had engulfed her and once she was freed, she flapped onyx wings and screeched, sending a few milling about her stumbling back in surprise. She was not just any bird, but a crow, a carrion eater and symbol of death. Glancing at those about her, she cocked her head here and there, and took a few picking steps forward. Flapping once, twice, thrice, she took off into the air, the noise startling and irritating.
The Morrigan came to a glide over the bar, landing on it gracefully amid the myriad of drinks and people who were surprised to see a bird land where there was supposed to be no wildlife. She could choose to change from this form, yes, and yet no. The Morrigan preferred this form - there was no reason to change into one of her others, at least, not yet. Though she could see the endings of each of those around her, there was nothing to predict, and no one to ensnare or battle. She felt confused and yet not. Instead, she focused on one who wasn't necessarily familiar, but certainly moreso than the mortals around her.
She moved forward, her steps carefully chosen, and came to a stop at the elbow of the woman. The crow gave a soft clicking noise, as if inquiring who the woman was.