#kit sloane

[gabehastings]

for: @kitsloane​ location: hemlock docks, in front of kit’s house. date: april 16, 1am

< kit: are you up? >

The glow of his phone had roused him, despite the numbers that flipped to indicate a new day had begun. It was late, but not late enough for him to tap out a message in response, his free hand rubbing tired blue eyes as they focused on something other than the end credits for The Circle. He told Netflix that he wasn’t still watching, and turned his attention to the mobile that chimed with a new message received. 

< vic: want me to come over? > < kit: yeah >

He was still dressed, and despite the wrinkles that creased his sweatshirt, his mussed hair looked good in the hallway mirror that he pursed his lips in. Vic’s appearance didn’t meet standards that were set for the day, but he had little intention of remaining put together long and fingers dipped into the ceramic bowl by the door to pull his keys from it. After making a point to slam it behind him before locking up, the sound warranting the response of two fists against the shared wall, he grinned broadly, leaving the building by the elevator.

It was like this that he found himself idling in the silver Audi, his forearm resting against the frame of the open window. Winter’s chill had been chased away by mid-April and it was nice, even in the dead of night, to feel the press of cool air to bare skin. 

 < vic: lights are out are u home? >

Instead of a response, the door opened and Kit left the home, walking towards him. She was bambi-like, wide eyed and pretty, and yet- “This isn’t a fuckin’ date, y’know.” The words were curved out the window, but he still moved to hit the button and unlocked the passenger’s side door.

[laurence-mercer]

with KIT SLOANE:

where: full moon party who: @kitslcane

The party was as successful as Laurie would have expected with Dom behind the wheel.  Neon lights painted patterns across the beach sand, pulsing with the thudding bass of Leo’s dance set. He’d done his fair share of dancing and drinking in turn, stepping in to make a cocktail or two, turning a blonde girl about the beach before stepping away.  It was quite the party but Laurie’s eyes wandered easily, looking for a partner that might better entertain.

“That’s not a look dripping with subtlety, Kit.” He drops the greeting close to her ear, coming behind the florist and her forlorn stare. The target of the brunette’s glower was tall, lean and lightly banned from Mercy’s, draped like silk over the pretty Stella Monroe. They were a full lipped picture together and, seemingly, the source of Kit’s thinly veiled ire. He has to swallow his laugh at the display, touching her arm instead. “Turn. You don’t want them to see you this shade of green, sweetheart.” 

[domstroebel]

for: @kitslcane​ location: daddy’s

He was proud of the club, his hedonistic little creation. Dionysus himself would have appreciated how drinks flowed so easily from the bar, he liked to imagine that the god of chaos would have a place in the neon, wine dripping down his chin like ichor. Dominic’s tie was loosened as he walked through the sea of bodies, of pretty, ecstatic faces tipped up at the ceiling and at each other, dancing as if in worship. The night was coming to an end and he was starting to hunger for his own way of letting loose, a pretty fascination that he could bury himself in for an evening- something beautiful to bring home like a prize. If need was a wicked thing, it held hands with desire, both gripping at his lapels and guiding him to a woman with raven-hued hair, standing half shadowed and half illuminated by the red neon light above her. A drink, mostly empty, was in her hand and Dom approached, appearing by her side. “Someone like you deserves a booth, a better drink, and to definitely not be standing where no one can see you.” He held out a hand, gesturing to the staff to begin arrangements before offering it to her palm up. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

[dilanfieraru]

for: @kitslcane​ location: the grove

Dilan slid into the seat across from Kit, a little later than the time that they had promised to meet, but with apologies hot on her breath as she murmured something about how good the other looked. California sun made those who pranced under it more radiant, Kit Sloane was an angel with inky hair and bone structure like fractured glass, all sharp angles against a full, pouting mouth. “Look at this little guy,” the other woman says, taking the glass case she had been toting around, setting it onto the empty table place beside her. A curious creature peered up at them as she pointed him out to Kit. “Our latest foster, a red eyed crocodile skink. Isn’t he cute? Looks like a dragon.” She reached for the menu, turning it over. “I just picked him up, I hope you don’t mind coffee for three.”