claraxlang:
The aftermath of the storm had left Clara with no where to go, no one to stop her from going down a path that would only lead to someone, probably herself, getting hurt. Returning to the resort did nothing to raise her spirits, though she doubted anything could at that point. All the sadness she had felt had disappeared and left a rage and bitterness that consumed her. She laid on the bar, already drunk, letting her fingers weaving intricate patterns that left a dark, swirling mass above her. She heard footsteps approach and she rolled her eyes. “If you want something fucking get it yourself.” Her words her slurred, but she couldn’t give a shit about her professional reputation.Â
Maeve couldn’t sleep and her twin wasn’t in his room so she wandered back over to the Mansion and into the bar. The lights were dark and she had no idea what time of night it was. Time never really mattered to Fae. They did as they wished when they wished when in the human realm. She paused at the witch’s reaction to her presence. Quite rude for someone who was being paid to be here. She moved toward the bar and sat down further down from the witch laying on the bar. “You seem to be in the wrong line of work,” she greeted simply, her face bare of any emotion.
