[petitperrie]

festivus | per, els, mal & ev

[petitperrie]

She took two quick sips from the bottle, a trickle of whiskey splashing down the front of her white sleeveless blouse. She ignored it, keeping her eyes on his thin face, and took a drag off her cigarette. He possessed none of the vapid bravado that radiated from the other drunken males in the vicinity. Her jaw relaxed as her eyes surveyed his sharp nose and prominent cleft chin, searching for some indicator to explain the sudden magnetism she felt toward him. “Preoccupied? That’s cute. You use interesting words.” She tilted her head back slightly, careful to avoid blasting him with cigarette smoke as she exhaled. ”Maybe you can rescue me from this lame-assed party. What’s your name?”  

[xxelias]

"I do.." He trailed, unsure if she meant that as a compliment or an insult, suddenly bubbling over with self-doubt; perhaps he was as irreparably out of place as he felt, but then again, so was she. In fact, she reminded him a bit of Evan, though each were seemingly incomparable in their own ways. Fingering a cigarette from the pack with abnormal ease, he place the soothing white paper against his fresh stinging lips and lit up before answering her second question. "Elias." He said crisply, almost wondering if he had made the foreign tasting name up before recalling that at once upon a time, in a far away place, he was a completely different person; someone perhaps deserving of a name like that. "I don’t know if I’m the right person to be anyone’s savior. Sorry." He apologized, taking a step back from her, but not walking away. "What’s your name?” He ask distractedly as he exhaled a sultry ring of smoke and looked down at one hand, which trembled slightly as she spoke.

[petitperrie]

"Perrie. With an -ie." She shouted the letters as a particularly bass-heavy song erupted from the speakers, vibrating the soles of her feet. An involuntary smile crept over her face as she watched a jet of bluish smoke cascade from his red lips, creating a haze that wafted around their heads. "I didn't even want to come to this party. My brother drove me, and we live a long way's away. So I'm killing time until I can find a ride home." Perrie often babbled when she was nervous, but boys rarely made her nervous; she preferred male company to female, but Elias had an unsettling aura about him, like an electrical field just strong enough to maker her feel woozy if she stood too close. Her heart quickened when he didn't immediately reply. "Not that I'm asking you for a ride, just. That's why I'm here." She extended the bottle to him, gripping the very top of the neck, so he could easily slide his hand underneath without the risk of brushing her fingers. "What about you? If you don't go to school here, and you didn't come with a girlfriend, how'd you end up at a fratboy throw-down?"

[petitperrie]

[petitperrie]

conveyance | perrie & hank

Perrie didn’t even bother to roll her eyes at the clipped, tough-guy edge in his voice. “Lucky for you he did.” She slung her bag on a rickety table that was jumbled with tools. A flashlight crashed to the floor and rolled toward Hank’s feet. “Sorry if I kept you from your busy schedule of doing nothing and jacking off.” She threw in a suggestively-raised eyebrow for good measure. The mention of anything remotely sexual usually added a few dollars to her tip. Reaching into the bag, she stacked two plastic sandwich bags on the table, each bulging with clumps of dried marijuana leaves. “That’s 300 you owe me.”

[hankfoxxx]

Charming women didn’t come naturally to him. Even Cordelia had been a challenge, and he had succeeded solely out of necessity. Hank picked up the flashlight and returned it to the table, sliding closer to the gangly girl who couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, though the solemn sadness of maturity darkened her celestial eyes. She was underdressed for the unexpected cool weather, and Hank could make out the rigid points of her nipples through the translucent fabric of her T-shirt. “I have two. I’m gonna need another week to get the other hundred. Is that alright?” He gave her a polite grin and hoped the paltry amount of boyish charm retained by his middle-aged face convinced her to agree with him. 

[petitperrie]

"You don't have all the money." She spoke through clenched teeth to project outrage and aggression, but it came off as resentful and condescending, like an older sister scolding an unruly sibling. The more she attempted a fearless or intimating facade, the more her youth and femininity betrayed her, reminding her male clients that she was the prey to their predator. Perrie swiped a handful of junk off the table. "Why'd you waste my time then, fucker? I I had to get a ride into the city, take the bus, take the streetcar--do you think that shit was free? If you don't have the money, I can't give you anything." She stuffed the marijuana back into her bag. "And, I need a fucking ride home cause I'm out of cash." 

[hankfoxxx]

conveyance | perrie & hank

He was rarely attracted to skinny girls. Something about their knobby joints and the starved glint in their eyes that illuminated their gaunt cheeks evoked a twinge of disgust in his stomach. But Perrie wasn’t fashionably thin. Hank knew she lived on a dilapidated houseboat with her brother and deadbeat uncle, who spent most of his disability checks on Bud Light and Oxycontin. She attained her sunken shoulders and leathery skin not from fad diets and spray tan, but from impoverished hunger and manual labor, and he could respect her beauty in that sense. 

He spotted her swiftly padding down the property line, the wind ruffling her shabby T-shirt and tousling the curtain of dirty brown hair that flowed almost to her waist. He attempted to politely glance away as she climbed the fence, but his eyes fixated on her naked legs and the dimple where the top of her thigh ended and the bottom of her ass began. His eyes closed, briefly entertaining sexual fantasies, until he heard her footsteps. Hank didn’t speak to her until they were both in the shed. “You’re like an hour late. Lucky for you Cordelia’s not here right now. Did D.L. double my order, like I asked?”

[petitperrie]

Perrie didn't even bother to roll her eyes at the clipped, tough-guy edge in his voice. "Lucky for you he did." She slung her bag on a rickety table that was jumbled with tools. A flashlight crashed to the floor and rolled toward Hank's feet. "Sorry if I kept you from your busy schedule of doing nothing and jacking off." She threw in a suggestively-raised eyebrow for good measure. The mention of anything remotely sexual usually added a few dollars to her tip. Reaching into the bag, she stacked two plastic sandwich bags on the table, each bulging with clumps of dried marijuana leaves. "That's 300 you owe me."

[petitperrie]

conveyance | perrie & hank

She wore her shortest shorts on delivery days. When she didn't, the shady, backdoor businessmen she visited were less inclined to add a few extra dollars to their payment amount, and she relied on their sleazy tips to put food on the table. The paltry forty bucks her uncle gave her to make the deliveries barely paid for her travel expenses. Perrie hurried down the sidewalk as the wind picked up, blasting her tan legs with an icy chill, as she passed rows of neat and elegant antebellum homes, protected from the grimy New Orleans streets by tall, iron fences. When she reached a massive house with a huge porch, and majestic white columns, Perrie checked to make sure no one was watching and hustled along the fence toward the backyard.

She always met him at the shed, never the big house, as he called it. He told her he didn't want any of the staff or students to know what he was up to, but Perrie knew the true reason for covertness. He didn't want to tell his wife why a skinny river rat with stringy hair and a sunken chest showed up once a month with a tattered, secondhand messenger bag tossed over one shoulder. Perrie reckoned he kept many other secrets from his wife; she got the impression that their marriage wasn't a happy one, or, at best, a hollow one. Wedging one dingy sneaker between the iron rails, Perrie hoisted herself up and over the fence, carefully avoiding the massive spikes at the top. Her feet hit the soft dirt with a slap, sending a stinging sensation up the length of her legs. Perrie winced and, after dusting off the bottom of her messenger bag, continued down the length of the fence. Hank leaned against the door of the shed, waiting for her, and gave her a nod before opening the door and stepping inside.

[flingsizebed]

[petitperrie]

festivus | per, els, mal & ev

She chucked the whiskey bottle at the boy, perhaps too forcefully, and wedged one of the cigarettes between her lips. “Go easy on it. I don’t want to talk to another dumbshit to get more.” His starkly pallid face almost glowed in the harsh streetlights, the shadows concealing various parts of his angular face as she tilted her head to one side. “I’m guessing you don’t go to school here.” She puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Me neither. Did your girlfriend drag you here? Or—” she glanced at the tall boy in a cardigan who kept looking at them “—your boyfriend maybe?”

[xxelias]

His hands fumbled awkwardly around the bottle thrust bitterly in his direction and he stood utterly uncertain of himself for the first time in a long time; what had he been doing again? He felt inexplicably dazed and directionless as if she had changed up only his personal gravity. Gripping the bottle by the neck with one hand, he freed the other up to fish anxiously through his pockets in a gentlemanly attempt to light the girl’s cigarette, but she had managed already in the time it took him to succeed in uselessly finding his lighter. He almost apologized and then caught himself, giving his jaw a sharp, dutiful bite. At last opening the bottle he’d been needlessly nursing, he brought the harsh amber liquid up to his soft, flesh lips and winced as he gulped a considerable amount in a single shot before blindly pushing the bottle back in the dark brunette’s direction. Shaking his head, Elias tried to put her rhetorical question in perspective. “Neither.” He said dryly, almost secretly gasping as the flames bubbled down in the pit of his stomach and at the back of his throat. “I don’t.. I’m not currently preoccupied with another person?” He attempted, not sure exactly what he meant, only that he was trying desperately to get across that he was single and not as much of a freak as he seemed.

[petitperrie]

She took two quick sips from the bottle, a trickle of whiskey splashing down the front of her white sleeveless blouse. She ignored it, keeping her eyes on his thin face, and took a drag off her cigarette. He possessed none of the vapid bravado that radiated from the other drunken males in the vicinity. Her jaw relaxed as her eyes surveyed his sharp nose and prominent cleft chin, searching for some indicator to explain the sudden magnetism she felt toward him. "Preoccupied? That's cute. You use interesting words." She tilted her head back slightly, careful to avoid blasting him with cigarette smoke as she exhaled. "Maybe you can rescue me from this lame-assed party. What's your name?"  

[petitperrie]

festivus | per, els, mal & ev

She chucked the whiskey bottle at the boy, perhaps too forcefully, and wedged one of the cigarettes between her lips. "Go easy on it. I don't want to talk to another dumbshit to get more." His starkly pallid face almost glowed in the harsh streetlights, the shadows concealing various parts of his angular face as she tilted her head to one side. "I'm guessing you don't go to school here." She puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Me neither. Did your girlfriend drag you here? Or--" she glanced at the tall boy in a cardigan who kept looking at them "--your boyfriend maybe?"

[petitperrie]

[vongalong]

[graveyarddirt]

Visit Original Link

jump sturdy, jump sturdy was her name she came out the swamps like a crazy fool

[xxelias]

festivus | per, els, mal & ev

I guess no one is really what they seem.

He sure as hell wasn’t.

His eyes followed his friend’s line of vision and he observed the feral looking girl; another wild beast trapped among the innocent, primed for an unsuspecting tragedy to take place. If they had followed her here for any good reason, he had forgotten it now, but it was a little too late to retract his mistake and make the hike back to Robichaux’s alone. Stalking on Malachi’s heels, looking much like a retro horror show monster, perhaps Nosferatu or a stretched version of Frankenstein’s monster, he wished for some divine intervention while staring down at his shoes and when he glanced up he was somehow face to face with a startled looking, wide-eyed brunette clutching a bottle of whiskey protectively to her chest.

[petitperrie]

She sucked in a huge breath--chest swelling, cheeks expanding-- and opened her mouth to shout at the skeletal, pointy-chinned boy who foolishly wandered into her path, but the deep, dead blackness of his eyes sucked her anger away. Perrie expelled the breath quickly and clicked her tongue. "Hey lost boy, you got a cig I can bum? Or better yet--" she wiggled her fingers into the tiny pocket of her tight cut-offs and produced a wad of brown, wrinkled dollars. "--you got a few to spare? I'll give you a dollar a smoke." She cradled the Maker's bottle and waved the dollars under the boy's nose. 

[petitperrie]

harvest | perrie

She crushed the empty box between her fingers and hurled it to the ground. Out of cigarettes. Great. Stuck at a party she didn't want to attend, with no cigarettes. She had planned to spend the evening in the swamp, searching for wild nightshade, and already had her waders on when her brother begged her to accompany him to a stupid frat party. She and Virgil had spent nine months in their mother's belly, gestating in tandem, but that was the only thing they shared in common. Virgil was obsessed with joining the popular crowd, excited to attend college next year, already planning out his courses and which fraternity he wanted to join. Perrie struggled to complete her last semester of high school and swore she would never attend a class or read a textbook ever again. She was like their father, a cagey rambler, attracted to the silence of the forests and swamps. And now she was stuck in her worst nightmare, out of cigarettes and surrounded by blattering idiots drunkenly seeking their next fuck. 

"Bullshit." She kicked the crumpled cigarette pack with the toe of her hunting boot and giggled as it hurtled into a crowd, ricocheting off the bare calf of a pretty redhead. Perrie smirked as the redhead searched, mouth agape, for the culprit. A boyish, muscular piece of meat in a letterman jacket ambled by her, and she grabbed his arm, seductively biting her lip to assuage his surprise. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I could get a drink, would you?" He blushed and thrust his plastic cup toward her. "Here, have mine," he said. She arched an eyebrow. "I don't drink piss water. Is there any liquor at this lame-ass party? Preferably whiskey." Letterman Jacket grinned sheepishly, mumbled a needless apology, and lumbered off to find her some whiskey. 

Perrie folded her thin, tanned arms across her modest chest and let a sigh bust through her scowling lips. A hundred people and none of them worth her time. There were a few attractive boys. The ones with borderline-anorexic girls wearing cheap clothes and too much makeup hanging on their arms were the most appealing. Nothing sexually excited her more than a monumental challenge. A few girls caught her eye too, especially the black girl with wild hair and hardened smile, but some fair-haired frat boy had already laid claim to her for the night, it seemed. She knew she could pluck any specimen she wanted from the crowd and entice him or her into bed, but the lack of a challenge made her interest wane. No one was worth her effort tonight. And of course, Virgil was nowhere to be found. He was either up the ass of a frat boy, brown-nosing his way into their self-aggrandizing society, or between the legs of some skanky townie. Or maybe he'd already slipped away from the festivities, headed to Bourbon Street with a group of bros and hos. It wouldn't be the first time he abandoned her in his own selfish quest for pleasure and societal gratification.

Letterman Jacket returned with a plastic cup and a bottle of Maker's. "This is the best we've got. I thought a beautiful girl like y--" Perrie groaned, dramatically slumping her shoulders, and swiped the whiskey bottle from his hands. "Yeah, thanks. I don't need a cup." Letterman Jacket said something as she walked away, but Perrie ignored him, hugging the half-empty bottle to her chest. She had acquired liquor with little trouble. Now all she needed was cigarettes. 

[blackestdespondency]

“I never felt open in any way. I would never impulsively ring people and assume that they’d want to see me, or just go ‘round. I always had to sit down and think very hard before I knocked on anybody’s door. And consequently, I never really knocked.”

Morrissey (via blackestdespondency)

[filson]

[ozarkhealingtraditions]

[spiritusarcanum-deactivated2020]