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Sep. 4th, 2013
Pain is a Demon Magnet
Sep. 4th, 2013 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhiannon_leeTragedies left fingerprints on people and places. Death, pain, and sorrow all built up a psychic energy that outlasted any attempts at therapeutic intervention, any renovations made to physical structures. You could paint over smoke damage, tear up bloodied carpet, knock down an entire building and the atmosphere wouldn’t change. The ground itself pulsated with what came before. Such was definitely the case with the MGM Grand. No matter how many millions developers channeled into the hotel or what its new owners called it, the building remained the home of the worst disaster in Nevada history. Fire, smoke, and heights had pooled their resources to kill 85 people. The psychic juice was enough to bait the dead into spending quality time on the premises.
As Rhiannon sipped a drink in the lounge on the ground floor, she contemplated what she felt: A buzz in the top of her spine, a knowledge of otherness in the room, maybe a remnant of hell flexing its muscles, five years later.
And if the fuzzy police reports were to be believed, it was vampire central.
Just like them, she thought, to clamor over the echoes of tortured screams.
The outfit was a new purchase. Nothing in her duffel bag was up to the task. If you were going to hang out in a prime piece of Las Vegas real estate, you needed the right gear. She compromised on a tight pair of black trousers with a wide belt, a black top with lace overlay, a flared jacket, and heeled boots. An assortment of silver necklaces jangled when she stretched her neck.
Whistler thought he had whiplash?
You’re damn right, you’re paying the bill, she had grumbled upon finding the hospital costs covered.
Her elbow still felt like murder. Rhiannon hissed when she forgot and rested her weight on the bar.
[Thread: Open to Valerie]
As Rhiannon sipped a drink in the lounge on the ground floor, she contemplated what she felt: A buzz in the top of her spine, a knowledge of otherness in the room, maybe a remnant of hell flexing its muscles, five years later.
And if the fuzzy police reports were to be believed, it was vampire central.
Just like them, she thought, to clamor over the echoes of tortured screams.
The outfit was a new purchase. Nothing in her duffel bag was up to the task. If you were going to hang out in a prime piece of Las Vegas real estate, you needed the right gear. She compromised on a tight pair of black trousers with a wide belt, a black top with lace overlay, a flared jacket, and heeled boots. An assortment of silver necklaces jangled when she stretched her neck.
Whistler thought he had whiplash?
You’re damn right, you’re paying the bill, she had grumbled upon finding the hospital costs covered.
Her elbow still felt like murder. Rhiannon hissed when she forgot and rested her weight on the bar.
[Thread: Open to Valerie]
holiday_pirnerHolly had been more than glad to receive the message from Daniel. After her meeting with Julianna, she had needed a laugh. Deciding to live up to her 'insane' reputation, she had looked him up in the phone book. But instead of calling, the brunette had decided to surprise him.
She had worn the same red dress from the club night with Deanna; it had been washed since then, so maybe Daniel wouldn't notice. It was the nicest one she had with her, and Holly wasn't getting rid of it.
Ringing the doorbell, she stood and waited, scratching the back of her leg with her boot. It was a quiet building. Please be home, she thought. The clock in her car had indicated it was a quarter after 8 PM. That was early for vampires, right?
She had worn the same red dress from the club night with Deanna; it had been washed since then, so maybe Daniel wouldn't notice. It was the nicest one she had with her, and Holly wasn't getting rid of it.
Ringing the doorbell, she stood and waited, scratching the back of her leg with her boot. It was a quiet building. Please be home, she thought. The clock in her car had indicated it was a quarter after 8 PM. That was early for vampires, right?
Introverts Make Convenient Targets
Sep. 4th, 2013 05:58 pmbrian_campoBrian loaded an amp into the van and shoved it across the floorboard. The wheels belonged to Mikey, who bought the vehicle to transport his drums all over town. Now it served as the band’s transportation to and from their practice space and shows. Fully loaded, there wasn’t even room for a copilot, forget about a hapless kid hoping for free candy.
He mopped sweat from his forehead. The gesture made his hair stand at funky angles.
From the back of the Dive, a male voice yelled, “Hey, Brian. I’m gonna get a beer. You comin’ in?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He hopped on the tailgate, electing to sit in the alley by himself. It was rare, but every once in a while, he got sick of the crowd in there. All the body contact with strangers dripping beer and sweat as they squeezed into line at the bar, the odors of pot and crack smoke mingling in the bathroom stalls, and even the noise got to him. It was claustrophobic. He wouldn’t be out there for long – another band was going on in twenty and he wanted to hear their set – so he decided to soak up the privacy while he had a chance.
He tugged his foot onto his knee to inspect a scuff in his boot. An impeccable appearance wasn’t on his must-do list, but the boots were sacred turf. He licked his thumb and rubbed the mark.
[Thread: Open to Tristan]
He mopped sweat from his forehead. The gesture made his hair stand at funky angles.
From the back of the Dive, a male voice yelled, “Hey, Brian. I’m gonna get a beer. You comin’ in?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He hopped on the tailgate, electing to sit in the alley by himself. It was rare, but every once in a while, he got sick of the crowd in there. All the body contact with strangers dripping beer and sweat as they squeezed into line at the bar, the odors of pot and crack smoke mingling in the bathroom stalls, and even the noise got to him. It was claustrophobic. He wouldn’t be out there for long – another band was going on in twenty and he wanted to hear their set – so he decided to soak up the privacy while he had a chance.
He tugged his foot onto his knee to inspect a scuff in his boot. An impeccable appearance wasn’t on his must-do list, but the boots were sacred turf. He licked his thumb and rubbed the mark.
[Thread: Open to Tristan]
Un Chat Gris
Sep. 4th, 2013 11:46 pmemmyclaireThere had been a gentle tug at the back of Emmeline’s mind for days. She had meditated, prayed, thrown runes and drawn cards, all to no avail; the tug persisted but brought with it no fruition, driving Emmeline to distraction as her daily routine became more scattered and confused with her mind occupied elsewhere.
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