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@sainterror / werner von croy
"have you ever seen the salt flats? fascinating place. blistering white in all directions -- it's quite bewitching. you can almost imagine civilisations past migrating through and feeling the power of the gods walking amongst them." he sips at the gin and tonic, toying idly with a cocktail stick. "have you? seen them?"
aurora's front and center for the show, watching as the knife pierces tender flesh, all eyes and a wide smile as lumen puts on quite a performance piece.
she clasps her hands together and cheers, giving what could be considered a one man standing ovation.
lumen is covered in blood and viscera by the time she leaves the stage, and something about aurora's urge to go further into the unknown peaks her interest.
"lu!"
she shouts, calling over to @sainterror. there's a bottle of jack daniels in her grasp and she's passing it over to the blonde, already a little bit drunk on said spirit. it makes her more tolerable, at least.
"tonight's show was fuckin' fantastic." she says, slurring her words ever so slightly. "i gotta ask, i gotta know," eyes slightly glassy, the brunette leans in further, a hiccup leaving her lips before she speaks.
"do you think you can die? or is your like...." she gestures at the lack of exposed wounds in regards to the event that just occurred, "healing whatever just gon' keep you around forever. like....a cockroach."
she tilts her head and giggles, taking another sip of the alcohol before she manages to speak again.
"not that you're like a bug or anythin'. i just. ithinkyouresocool."
the last bit of words comes out in a rushed jumble, spoken without a breath in between, but the smile on her face is genuine. she's never met anyone like lumen before and she doesn't think she will ever meet someone like her ever again. so in the mean time, she's going to take what she can from this relationship and cherish it.
@sainterror whispers, “i ain’t afraid of dying.”
she’s never this soft spoken and it catches him off guard. eyes lift from the fire to the woman sitting on the other side of it, face slightly distorted by the flames. "don’t ‘spose y’can be,” he drawls. “not in this line’a work.” no one is guaranteed tomorrow. even less so, the men ( and women ) who live they way they do. stealing and killing for money. for vengeance.
“don’t mean y’should be tryin’ to die.” the words slip out of his mouth before he has time to think about the consequences they’ll bring. she acted reckless today, nearly got herself — and him — killed. he’s less concerned about what happens to him though. his life ain’t worth much. but hers? it’s worth a whole lot more than she seems to understand. “i mean, hell, elena ... y’got any idea what could’a happened to you ...” his voice raises slightly in volume, frustration furrowing his brow. he doesn’t know why. elena isn’t part of his gang. he barely knows the woman. and yet almost loosing her today. he wasn’t prepared for it. “colm and his boys ain’t the kinda folks y’wanna mess around with.”
( @sainterror / devan. ) she doesn't bother knocking, instead simply lets herself into the dressing room. it's half an hour past show time and the energy is winding down, but just barely. running her fingers through her mane, she carries a bottle of beer into the area and settles down on the couch, propping her feet up on the vanity.
"great fuckin' show tonight,"
she says, raising the bottle of beer in a cheers motion before downing the rest of the alcohol. "made a killing on those t-shirts, i told you that photo of you was pretty fine," she stretches out, combat boots colliding with a bottle of what she thinks is hair spray, watching as it clatters to the floor without making a move to catch it. ah, they'll pick it up later.
"so like. did you read that latest fan mail? some chick asked to buy your used underwear. what a fuckin' weirdo."
she leans up and chucks one of the cushions over at him, a stern finger wag to follow. the look on his face is enough to tell her that the thought is currently percolating in the depths of his mind.
"don't even fuckin' think about it. this could be as bad as you sellin' socks on ebay back in the day. we don't talk about those times."
fingers dance across a surface of condensation on the glass of whiskey sitting on the bar before her. she tucks a strand of hair back with her opposite hand, a small sigh escaping her lips.
she's been knocking back drinks all night in an effort to feel something, but the lack of a drunken buzz comes from her not being able to process alcohol like a normal human being would do.
so she stands, goes to the bathroom and is offered up a line of coke, the jolt that comes from snorting the powder is enough to give her the briefest tingle, and as such, she goes seeking out more of a thrill.
dialing a familiar number, talia leans up against the door frame of the bar's bathroom, watching the people pass her by before she gets the sound of another voice on the other end.
"percy!" she shouts, and she'd be considered a little tipsy at this point if she was able to feel anything other than empty from the knock backed shots she's been throwing all night.
"how's about you an' i do a lil' street racing," she says, a smile spread across her lips as she pleads into the mobile phone, waiting for @sainterror to give her some sort of answer.
"i got my hands on this real piece'a work cadillac. suped up real nice. you interested in takin' it for a lil' test drive with me? some bonified street racin'?"
there's a slyness to her speech, she already knows she's appealing to his inner self, the man that wants to see nothing more than fire behind his eyes on a daily basis.
"see if we can't put the pedal to the metal as the old folks would say?"
she's grinning because if she could call herself an adrenaline junkie, percy is just as much one himself. it's the reason they get along so swimmingly, she's decided early on in their friendship.
"got an adrenaline shot with your name on it," she muses.
( @sainterror / simone. ) cait had called simone from the bar, where she'd considered taking her first drink after rehab. things weren't going too well, she'd gotten in a huge fight with her sister and almost quit her band entirely, it was rough. the glass of vodka sat in front of her, condensation dripping down onto the napkin underneath. her fingers reached out, drew patterns in the droplets, felt the cool glass beneath her fingertips.
it would be so easy to knock it back, knock back a few more. she could do it in the span of a few minutes. would anyone be the wiser? would anyone come to her rescue should she need it? twirling a piece of hair around her finger, the brunette uses her opposite hand to tap her fingers now against the top of the bar, hitting hardwood in a random dance to a song that plays only in her head.
"time will either heal you or kill you." cait can't help but snort out loud, looking over her shoulder to find simone who saddles up to the bar and takes a seat next to her. "that somethin' you learn in rehab or group or whatever?" she asks, a kinked brow as she shifts to face the brunette sitting opposite her.
"time, art thou a fickle bitch,"
she says, a huff of breath to escape her lips. reaching for a handful of pretzels that were currently situated in front of her, she pops some into her mouth and starts chewing. the salt helps, occupies her lips and tongue for a moment, but a drink would be much more satisfying. her hand begins to tremble as she brushes forward against the glass once more.
"do you think it's worth it?" she asks, not sure whether or not to expect a long winded response or a few short syllables. simone is capable of either, depending on her mood, and she hasn't been with her in enough time to place her frame of mind as of right now. "staying sober and all that? i mean, what's the harm in a little drink now an' then, y'know."
the blonde bites down on the inside of her cheek. a rush of pain. the tinge of crimson on her tongue, taste of iron in her mouth.
she breathes, an inhale and a long exhale.
"would you do it? do you do it?"
she asks, tilt of the head in simone's direction. "what's it worth being sober if your life is still shit for the most part? i thought this meant that there was gon' be enlightenment or somethin'. that things would get better. but they're not. they're still loose embers in an ever raging inferno. i just want....something different."
" red looks good on you. " // @sainterror
Adri smiles, Cheshire cat like, all teeth and ruby red lips stretched wide. It is a smile filled with confidence and self-knowing.
"I believe," she starts, smile relaxing as she talks, "that you said to dress to impress." And Adri had - hair styled in deep Hollywood waves, a red slinky dress showing off plenty of cleavage, and perfect winged eyeliner. Stereotypical or not, she'd done exactly as directed.
"Thank you," Adri adds; she isn't one to pass up a compliment, to let one go unacknowledged.
@sainterror sent: what did i come down here for? you. from elena!
his hand goes to her wrist, pulling her closer to him, to get her out of the view of anyone else and just because he feels stronger with her near. not that he can force those words out of his mouth, hopes that elena can just see it in his eyes. "it's dangerous, i know you can take care of yourself but you know i can too."
he drops his hand but stays close, not wanting her out of his sight as he looks around the street around them. ensuring that no one around them is paying too much attention.
