#esluhan

[es-aisha-blog]

ᴡake up call ; sa ✕ lh

Aisha just had no will to get up. With her mouth awkwardly dry and her head thumping, she could already guess what was happening—she was very familiar to the effects of hangover, and they only got worse as she dared to move and look for the water bottle – what she couldn’t find at the familiar place under her mattress – and the nausea forced her back into the sheets.

Scrunching up her nose, she let herself sink in the covers, letting the oddly comfortable material embrace and warm her up. If she stayed like this just for one more minute, the waterbender was sure she’d end up dozing off again, but this place was so hot and there was a stupid red light right in front of her eyes and—

In the next second, she had her eyes open widely and the sheets kicked away from her body, falling exactly on – if the sun and the thin crimson walls weren’t enough – another source of warmness. Aisha couldn’t help but cover her mouth to suppress a gasp as she faced a bare back just beside her, and its owner with a face that seemed to have stopped on time when he was only 15 – or at least she hoped he wasn’t 15 – and perpetual silence even if she had moved so much this early.

And the worst? Her body was as bare as his seemed to be, or even more, as his remained covered by the perfect sheets. Why this had to happen with her? Damn it, she could hold her alcohol enough to know she shouldn’t hang out with a rich kid as this. How could she had been so stupid? And she couldn’t even find her damned water bottle, damn it!

( Damn it, damn it! )

The recently dyed locks fell curled in a shade of golden honey she never intended to wear as she brushes her hair back, trying to focus and think on something. The headache forbids, and not even half a minute later Aisha had given up, and instead is looking for a way to find her clothes, or at least get push that body enough for her to get something to cover her nudity. “Hey, hey, dude. Rich kid, wake the hell up and get off!”

[es-chanyeol]

❝ THROWDOWN ❞ ʟʜ ☓ ᴄʏ

There was a bonfire raging a few feet away, driftwood piled high on the beach and every so often someone would toss a flame at the warped wood when the it started to dwindle.  It sparked up green, sometimes blue through the orange haze, whenever it licked at salt and bubbled up multicolored and enticing. The sky was heavy and dark, no room for the stars to shine through, but Chanyeol didn't really mind. He didn't go out to stargaze, just for company, maybe a few drinks at the slapdash bonfire party one of his friends had thrown together. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to cover his palms, was settled against a rock and watching as a few people made complete asses of themselves, stumbling around drunk and trying to fight over some girl in a short skirt. It had Chanyeol laughing to himself, stretched himself out and felt the thick press at the shift of his weight, money from his pocket digging into his skin.

It wasn't his, not rightfully at least. He'd taken it from some pretty little thing earlier, doe eyes and he looked like he might tumble over if an airbender happened to pick a fight with him. All Chanyeol had seen was an easy target, honestly. He had been feeling bold, it was easy to see he was a tourist, even struck up a conversation--an easy enough diversion as he kept his attention occupied and snuck a hand into his pocket to pinch, well, way too much money. Apparently the kid had been loaded. That was the nice thing about tourists though, never on guard and carrying way too much for their own good, and it was how Chanyeol paid the bills. It maybe wasn't the most productive thing he could be doing with his time, and he'd had a path--he'd had connections, could have made himself into someone decently important, could have made himself into something in the military. He was smart enough, but he didn't have the drive. Not for that at least, his father had put a bitter taste in his mouth at the prospect of it all and Chanyeol was too hot headed to just push himself through the motions like a good son, like a drone.

Chanyeol was contemplating pushing himself up in search of another drink, or maybe finding some hot chick to talk into going home with him, instead he rocked up to his feet and came face to face with pretty boy and well, that hadn't been exactly part of the plan. He played innocent anyway. "Oh, hey. What brings you around here?" he asked him, an easy drawl - slouched in place though was gauging the others reaction, wondered if he could make a break for it. The kid didn't really look like he would be much of a threat, Chanyeol was mostly concerned on actually landing his ass in trouble. "There's, uh, booze. That way." he nodded towards the fire, played like he definitely wasn't the one who'd lifted a shit ton of money off of him.