It takes a little while to find a diner, and a little while longer to find a second diner that's actually open. The walk is nice though, as you descend beneath the tree canopy and the grassy hillside is replaced by paved road beneath your feet. And, well, there's the streetlights. Maybe you're just playing into stereotypes, but the comforting golden glow illuminating your pathway is incredibly pleasant and just a tad distracting, and if it weren't for your stomach continuing to make odd noises, you'd almost be tempted to sit down underneath one for a little while, just to soak in the scenery.
The road winds across the southern edge of the lake's triangle, houses transitioning to a wide schoolhouse yard, and then further west of there, a collection of small two-story shopfronts and secondary avenues splitting off to your left. According to a sign, one leads back up the ridge toward the train station, making you glance around in sudden irrational paranoia, half-expecting a cadre of railroad bulls to come screaming down on you to enact brutal punishment for your illegal ride. But no, it's late evening and everyone's tucked cozily in their homes, and you're safe. Continuing on, it isn't long before you find the first eatery, but it's already closed for the night. There is a bar just across the street that seems to be open, but after staring at it for several long moments, you decide against entering. Your stomach only grumbles more in response, though, and your feet begin to drag the further you walk.
Still, you keep going, soon crossing a wide but short bridge across one of the rivers feeding the lake; glancing up, you see how it winds up between the mountain slopes, with several waterfalls visible here and there. You also see the railroad continuing on and moving up alongside the rushing water, before vanishing around a bend, presumably to loop back around to a much taller, longer, and narrower trestle bridge that looms high in the middle distance, spanning the gap between the opposing rocky faces. Oddly enough, you think you see something else among or behind the complex frame holding up the bridge, some sort of blinking red light? But after staring at it for several long minutes, nothing happens and nothing changes, just the light blinking on and off at a slow and steady pace, so you shrug and keep moving.
You're now on the shortest edge of the lake, the narrow shore space between the two feeding rivers, and on the complete opposite end from where you started out. Here, there's a bit less tree cover, and you see more official sorts of buildings - a fire station, a post office, a library, and what appears to be the town hall. Still, there's plenty of other places of interest as well, and it's here that you finally find what you're looking for.
On a short side-street that ends at the base of a steep cliff face, the aptly-named Cliffside Diner welcomes you in with the warm golden glow from the windows, and a sign indicating it doesn't close for another hour at least, if your rough estimate of the current time is accurate. Stepping inside, you find the furnishings to be cozy, several booths lining the walls, with low-hanging shaded lamps that provide most of the light. In the middle of the floor is a wrap-around counter area with hanging cabinets above, leaving a narrow open space for a tired-looking waitress with a short ponytail and tall, fashionably sharp antlers to survey her domain in every direction. Dim indirect lighting is cast on the ceiling within that area, lending her an oddly ethereal-yet-earthly appearance.
"Hello," you greet awkwardly as you approach, and she looks up from the glass she's polishing to squint in your direction. You suddenly feel conscious of your raspy voice and disheveled presentation, but there isn't much you can do about it now but try to rake your long, curly hair out a bit, and smooth out the feathery antennae laying back across your head, and hope that that's enough.
"Hello," she says in response, voice low and flavored with a slight southern twang. "I ain't seen you around before. New in town? What's yer name?" Her tone isn't unfriendly, but she still sounds guarded more than actually curious, head shifted to one side even as she fixes you directly with a suspicious stare.
"Yeah, I am," you confirm. "And you can call me… Mal." Malikaiya Wilhelmina Outis is your full name, technically, but everyone's always just called you Mal, so it seems simpler to just go with that. "And what's yours?"
"Amber," she grunts, setting her glass down and cricking her neck a tad. "Where yeh from, Mal?" You freeze, trying not to avoid her gaze as you try to find a sufficiently vague answer.
Where Are You From?
[][Background] "Eh, Nowhere Important" You came from the big city in the east, from a family of great wealth and greater infamy. You abandoned everything you knew to leave as soon as you could; you can only hope the dangerous life you wanted to avoid will never catch up...
[][Background] "Oh, Here And There" You were drafted to serve as a medic for the army, and sent to help in an unpopular war overseas; on returning home all support dried up, leaving you to your present state. Even without fighting directly, the things you've seen haunt you…
[][Background] "Not From Around Here" Your parents were immigrants, and their country of origin has long been locked in a bitter cold war with this one, so despite being born and raised here and calling it home, you've been faced with nothing but suspicion for most of your life…
[][Background] "Just Yonder Thataway" You grew up on a reservation, where they lumped the indigenous peoples of several different tribes together in the name of manifest destiny. You wanted to go out into the world beyond those borders, but haven't had much luck since then...
"Heh, a'right. Well, what can I git'ya?" She still seems wary, but at least the faint glimmers of a friendly smile seem to play across her lips, amused at your evasive response.
After scanning the menu and pulling out your bag of coins, you decide to treat yourself. "How about that Clam Chowder?" She nods, gestures wordlessly to the multitude of empty booths, and vanishes through a back door. You aren't sure if she's talking to the cook or if she is the cook, but either way it gives you time to survey the place, and begin thinking about your second concern for the night - lodging. You probably can't afford an inn now, so you may have to try to convince someone to let you shack up overnight, or else find someplace decent to sleep under the stars. Wouldn't be the first time you've done either, though neither is exactly easy to do, for different reasons.
There are at least a couple other people present, you realize, not having spotted them before due to the soft lighting. In one corner, there's a woman with rounded bear ears sitting before an emptied plate, her pastel flower-print sleeveless dress at odds with her rather intimidatingly muscular stature, and her expression is unreadable as she gazes out the window. In the opposite corner, a decidedly elegant-looking woman with foreign features is picking at a salad, the singular oddly-shaped horn jutting from her forehead telling you she's a… Kirin, you think? And just by the door, a rather skinny man with bright carrot-orange hair and ferret ears is happily munching his way through an oversized burger, completely oblivious in his own way.
Who To Pester Talk To?
[][Lodging] The Bear Woman She seems rather scary, and if you get on her bad side it could end poorly for you, but maybe you won't; you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
[][Lodging] The Kirin Lady Someone that fancy may look down on you, but she doesn't look unkind either; maybe you can try to make an appeal and hope she's the sympathetic sort.
[][Lodging] The Ferret Man Even if you're a bit hesitant to sleep in a man's home, this one seems quite harmless; you feel like he could make a good friend.
[][Lodging] Amber There are bar-stools around the counter here, so why not pull one up? You've already started talking to her, maybe you can convince her to loosen up a tad bit more.
[][Lodging] Nobody Maybe it's not worth the risk. If you anger one of them, or just come off as too annoying or needy, you could become known as a vagabond and undermine your efforts to build a proper life here. You'll just eat your dinner, and go looking for a nice... 'comfortable'... public bench or something.
