#thread: isolation

[themxniac]

Isolation

Christ, he had to drive a distance to get all the way out here.

He kept his eyes forward, the road constantly beckoning him to limit his speed. While the path was, for the most part, going in one direction, the surrounding wilderness always prompted the possibility of a large deer running across the road. He had already seen about two of them, and he actually had to slam his breaks when the second one broke into a sprint in front of his rental car.

Fuckin' suicidal, they are.

Can deers be suicidal?

Jimmy found himself yawning slightly, it was only the start of the evening, but seeing as he had woken up early in the day to catch a plane ride here, he was feeling a small weight of jet lag over his shoulders. It wasn't something the music on his radio wouldn't remedy, but he was definitely looking forward to getting this meeting done with. Eventually, a small dirt path branched off of the main asphalt road, and he pulled the car towards it, leading to a narrow path between the trees.

After a brief few minutes of driving, he caught sight of a small, lonely cabin at the end of the trail. He squinted slightly, looking at the surroundings that concealed the isolated home. Trees blocked most of the setting sun's glow, making the immediate area dark -- almost gloomy. He blinked, before noticing movement at the front door of the home. A man had walked out.

He sized him up from his car's viewpoint, before pulling the vehicle to a stop a dozen meters away from the cabin. With a brief removal of his seat belt and a roll of his neck, he pulled up a file placed on the nearby passenger seat. Within it, a colored photo of a man (who was probably able to muster a smile at one point of his life) looked back at him. Jimmy glanced down, then back up.

That's the one, all right.

Setting the file down, Jimmy adjusted his tie, cleared his throat, and stepped out of the car. When the man saw him, he put on a smile and nodded, presenting himself in an affable manner. "Good evening, Mr. Park." He began, reaching a sleeved hand out. "I'm Jimmy. Are you busy?"

@aloneandlosing

[softdrabbles]

starter for @leftlipstick​ : scarlet & chase

For Scarlet the lockdown was still business as usual, helping oversee things with her brother. The only difference was she didn’t have to leave the house for it. She still had different girls around each night, spent her time getting high. The only girl she really wanted coming over, couldn’t. Especially with Kash being around more their affair wasn’t as easy as it had been. Scarlet knew she was playing with fire when it came to Kash but she wasn’t afraid. The moment Chase mentioned being home alone, Scarlet got changed and made her way over in no time at all. She knew she only had a limited time frame so she made sure to utilise it.

As she approached the door to the apartment, she grabbed her phone and called Chase to know she was there. She was buzzing. The dark haired woman had a hold over her that had her coming back for more. The sneaking around, the risk of being caught. When Scarlet wanted something nothing was going to stand in her way. Even if it was her brother’s right hand man in their ‘business’. “Can you buzz me in real quick?”

[clockworkapothecary]

⚠ [ Trin, pls ]

((My muse is being held in solitary confinement and hasn’t seen anyone for weeks. Send ⚠ to find them.))

Trinidad drifted uneasily in and out of sleep, curled in a dark corner with her back against the damp stone wall.  It was quiet, save for her own steady breathing and the occasional soft scuffle from outside - footsteps, maybe, though the thick walls made it impossible to hear anything clearly.

Of all the trouble she had gotten herself into over the years, the events of the past few weeks had to have been among the worst she had ever faced.  She had been reckless, stupid, overconfident.  And now, she supposed, she was paying for that.

Every inch of her ached, though most of the scrapes and bruises had more or less healed by now, faint marks barely visible beneath the grime coating her skin.  She had lost weight, her complexion much paler than it ought to have been, lips cracked.The heavy shackles at her wrists left her skin raw beneath the metal, limiting her movement to a few square feet of the cell.  Even in the gloom of the unlit cell, the chains shone - silver plating over iron, the shackles themselves inscribed with small runes.  Trinidad was unfamiliar with this particular binding spell, but it was certainly a strong one.  It was a constant drain on her already limited energy, preventing her from shapeshifting or using any other magic that might aid in her escape.  Her captors knew what they were doing, she would give them credit for that at least.  They had certainly done a very thorough job. 

She couldn’t say for sure how long she had been here, only that it had been a very long while.  No light reached the chamber save for the faint but constant glimmer that crept under the door from the lantern in the hallway beyond.  Nothing to mark the days, nothing to indicate the passage of time.  On occasion, never often enough, a little hatch at the bottom of the door would open to allow food and water to be pushed through before it slammed shut again.  For a while, Trinidad had amused herself by talking to the guards who she knew must be right outside, though she had given up long ago.  They never responded, and she never saw any sign of any other person outside this tiny cell, save for the infrequent deliveries of gruel or moldy bread.  She couldn’t help wondering if she had been forgotten here.

A sound she couldn’t quite place pulled her sharply out of the half-conscious state she spent most of her days in.  A creak of hinges, movement ahead of her.  Light, more light than she had been used to seeing in a long time.  She winced, muttering a nonverbal protest at being so harshly awakened.  It took her a moment to make sense of the blurry shapes in front of her - the door standing open, a figure approaching her.

“…Wha d’ you want?”  The words came out a little more slurred than she’d intended, voice rough from lack of use.  She was trying her best to sound tough despite the part of her that wanted to cry, wanted to beg for her freedom.  The silence had been unbearable.  She squinted at the approaching figure, apprehensive at first, until her expression softened with recognition.

“...Ky?”  She laughed, a shaky sound devoid of humor, a reflex of relief.  The sound quickly gave way to a wracking cough, which she tried to cover as best she could.  Still, she managed a wavering smile.  “...’bout time you showed up.”