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@zinazaps
@of-beasts-and-bloodââ
task 015; halloween
zina batista as a clown.
blonde wig and clown makeup. shiny red shoes and a matching corset. circus stripe bloomers and accessories. accordion.
@childish-omens @hauntedscreams
sybilltrelxwneyâ
Sybill, far too used to these sorts of critiques of her odd, whimsical taste, gave a soft hum of acknowledgement as she flitted about the apothecary, shelving various new deliveries. âWell, when you work here you can pick the music.â She sung along softly under her breath, steps a back more rhythmic as she went. âUntil then, put up or shutup.â
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âai, why would I work here?â zina asked looking around the earthy situation. it wasnât really... electric enough for her. âI make the good music that you could be playing here instead. if thatâs not putting up then I donât know what is.â
childish-omensâ
â§*ïŸÂ
Oliver peeked up at her through his fingers, âSo you just⊠werenât listening.â He repeated in disbelief. âBetter than you hating it, I suppose.âÂ
He sighed and leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to get it to stop bouncing. It did nothing to help; his foot continued to bounce like a rabbit hopped up on caffeine.Â
âWhatâs got you so distracted, then?â He asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern.Â
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zina probably could have managed to feel a bit worse for zoning out, maybe she should have, but she didnât. sheâd stopped apologizing for her attention span a long time ago. who could spare the time for it? âdid not hear a single lick. I was completely distracted.â
âyouâre competent with a riff. just ask me to listen later. when Iâm more in a listening mood or I have something in my hands.â it was easier to listen then, when her mind was focused on something else. âmmm. just some thoughts. my mother wrote me a letter which is strange... I sort of assumed she did not know where I was.â
pxlxrizeâ
â ââ
 âOh, I do, huh? Well shit, in that case I better take your songs out of the mix. Canât have your band associated with my shit taste, right?â When he finally swiveled around and scooched a little closer on his chair, machine in hand. âHey, if you want to leave this is the last chance. Make sure to wash my stencil off before youâre out the door though.âÂ
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âhas anyone ever bothered to tell you that sometimes talking to you is like pulling actual fucking teeth, I swear.â zina rolled her eyes, but didnât bother moving off the table. she only had so much sit still ability and probably a third of it had already been spent on that stencil.
@hexed-existenceâ
childish-omensâ
where: the Hedley townhouse
who: Oliver and Zina ( @zinazapsâ )
The tune faded out, coming to its end. Oliver lowered his guitar and glanced over at Zina, eyebrows lifted expectantly.Â
âWell? What do you think?â
He felt uncharacteristically nervous about whatever feedback she might have. Heâd played her the beginnings of a new song heâd been working on - the first song heâd really written on his own in years - one he hadnât played for anyone else yet.Â
It was about falling in love with someone. Something heâd never really felt, not before Logan. The song was painfully raw, the result of him pouring his entire heart into it.
So, yes. He was, naturally, more than a little nervous about it.
Oliver groaned when he got no response, running his hands over his face.
âYou hate it.â He mumbled into his palms.
so admittedly, zina was distracted. she had been completely lost in her own thoughts the entire day. if asked whether it currently was day or night, the only answer received would be non-committal and vague at best. she couldnât seem to help it. it was a different kind of dazed than when she got a shock, but it was still just like she couldnât quite focus enough to hear.
âuh. no. no, no, no. I donât hate it.â she argued. âdo not put words in my mouth, ai? I just didnât hear it." her face morphed into a slight grimace. a complete âwhoopsieâ look of guilt. itâs not like she could help it. she was trying to listen. it just didnât happen this time. âI just wasnât listening. it was probably a song, though.â
@childish-omens
spellbxndâ
â â
âwell fuck, iâd hate to hear what shit you spew about my music when my back is turned.â lo was leaning against one of the many arcade machines in the joint, looking incredibly unimpressed. he couldnât hold the expression for long though, and soon it was replaced with a wide, cheeky smile. âhow ya doinâ, zina? long time no see. not with the whole knockinâ my head and nearly dyinâ thing.â
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âthe same that I say to your face except to the others, I say âno offense if you like himâ.â zina delivered the words with the same dry amusement that denoted her usual even tone. âI want you to be offended you folksy bastard.â a smile caught her. âbeen writing some songs, playing some bass, spending too much time in an arcade, not dying and the like. standard stuff really. howâs the head?â
pxlxrizeâ
â ââ
Why someone as antisocial as Markus chose a profession were fifty percent of his job was dealing with customers would forever remain a mystery. It was also a question he asked himself just about daily. Especially in situations like these. â Well, tough luck. My shop, my music. â He glanced at her over his shoulder as he prepped his station, apparently dead set on getting a reputation for just the most awful bedside manner. â If you got an issue with that, you are welcome to piss off still. Good luck with trying to find a better tattoo artist though. âÂ
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âand like I said, itâs barely music. I would know. youâve got shit tastes.â zina said with an airy, dry amusement. like any good rockstar, she did have several tattoos littering her body. poppies, roses, love potions, and witches mostly. there was the hex girlâs matching one, and the most recent graced her cheek. a little lightning bolt that flickered when she smiled. âI can always ask dex again. heâs usually more than happy to help.â
WHAT ARE YOUR MUSEâS AESTHETICS?
BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE. REPOST OR REBLOG FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST
zina, the electric eelâ
fire. ice. water. air. earth. light. darkness. wind. waves. lightning. thunder. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. silver. steel. leaves. grass. trees. roses. lilies. daises. daffodils. sunflowers. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. velvet. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. sugar. sour. salt. pomegranate. lavender. foxglove. glass. wood. paper. wool. bones. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruises. scars. spices. violin. flute. drums. guitar. piano. bass. paint. charcoal. wine. weed. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. reptile. avian. coffee. tea. chocolate. books. puzzles. scratches. petals. thorns. hay. glitter. heat. warmth. cold. steam. frost. candles. sword. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. gun. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. clay. stone. brick. fish. lions. wolves. weasels. coyotes. foxes. ravens. flamingos. moths. bats. beetles. mice. mountains. mirrors. surfboards. dream-catchers. roller skates. arcades. leather. brown. black. white. grey. red. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink.
where: somewhere with electricity with: open
âmusic?â zina barely resisted the temptation to literally gag at the implication of such a sentiment. âai, that shit is barely music. itâs definitely not good. you wouldnât know good music if it kicked you in your tiny little dick and gave a good lick on your face.â she mimicked a few frets with one hand and strumming with the other. âfolksy bullshit.â
EMBER!
You will remember!
auxrorkindâ
Âș â§ ă
ââbrigada.â her eyes wandered over the paper, not bothering to be discreet about it, but it was hard to judge notes when looking at them sideways. âfresh eyes, let me see. whatâs it about?â
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zina passed the chicken scratch paper over to thalia without bothering to hesitate or give a second thought to it. anything she was writing would eventually end up with the rest of the band no matter what. âai, who know, right? thatâs the problem. I have no idea what Iâm writing.â