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Post by ariadne on Nov 19, 2011 11:18:52 GMT -5
 Puts on her best smile But underneath she's a broken girl discretely, ariadne tugged her skirt down and peered up and down the alleyway. sure, she had a bit of self-conscious modesty deep down somewhere, when she was all alone. when it was necessary, she was the sluttiest slut a slut could be, but deep on the inside she was just a broken little girl who had never experienced a real childhood. although she had just turned twenty-one six months beforehand, she'd been drunk far before that time. the first time had probably been the first night she'd been a prostitute, and she'd gotten herself drunk to make it through the encounter. now, she was a pro, and she didn't need those types of things. she just went cold on the inside, as if her brain had iced over, and she didn't feel anything. on the outside, it sounded like she enjoyed herself, but she knew it wasn't true. it was a way to make a living and to block out her brother's death.
that had almost been the end of her.
hunter had been her closest - and only - friend for her entire life. he was her twin, and they had very muchly experienced the 'twin sense'. she could tell how he was feeling just as he could sense her own emotions, and she'd gradually felt him slipping away from her in that last year. although they'd both had less than reputable occupations - he'd been a drug dealer, ultimately causing his demise - she had always known they were the same kids who'd been shipped from home to home since toddlerdom. but hunter had tried to forget that; he'd tried to move on. and he'd gotten himself killed. ariadne had run then, something she did very well. the men who had killed her brother wanted her next just because she knew too much. they hadn't known the two were related until they'd shot hunter and she'd been sobbing over his body when one of their goons came to clean up the mess the day after. she'd managed to get away by shooting her pea-shooter in the guy's kneecap and preventing him from chasing her, and she'd escaped to northern california: hence her presence in the dark alleyway near the main street of the bad side of sapphire bay.
she began walking toward the dimly-lit roadway and, deciding her skirt needed to be shorter indeed, pulled it gently back to where it had rested across her thighs before and strode purposefully out into the light. self-consciously, she wanted to tug her jacket around her slender frame and hide herself from the world, but she couldn't. in her line of work, appearance and being seen meant everything. so instead of hiding inside her coat, she pulled it off of her shoulders and folded it over her arm, her black and diamond bangles jangling with her movements. her naturally straight, blond hair fell down to her shoulder blades, and she combed her fingers through the locks to part it to the left. this exposed her neck and showed off her tan, perfect skin. tonight was her night off from the burlesque club, velvet revolver, where she had a semi-reputable job, so she was using her free time to make a little extra money on the side. when she'd lived in los angeles with hunter, she'd been a prostitute almost full time, so she was used to it. plus, it gave her a lot of cash all at once instead of having to wait two weeks for a paycheck.
reaching into her clutch purse as she walked through the darkness between one lamp post and the next, she dug through the purse until she found her lip gloss which would accentuate her naturally pouty lips. just as she found it and was about to unscrew the cap to apply it to her lips, she ran headlong into something solid which knocked the wind out of her lungs and the purse, and its contents, out of her hands. the bag spilled all over the ground, and she let out a little gasp before dropping to her knees to grab her belongings. she didn't have much, just a ten dollar bill, her fake id which she used on outings like this one, the lip gloss, a few condoms, and a safety pin. while the pin was useful to hold together gaping holes in one's outfit or for some other emergency, it had the most value out of the items in the purse to her. her brother had given it to her when they were only ten years old. that was eleven years ago now, and so much innocence had been lost since, but somehow, in her mind, the stupid little safety pin still meant something to her. it was the one warm place where everything else had frozen.
"excuse me," she muttered embarrassedly, standing back to her full height which wasn't much more than five feet. she may be petite and seemingly fragile, however she was anything but. not included among the items in her purse was a small gun she kept nestled in a garter on the inside of her thigh where it was hidden beneath her short red dress. just in case. backing away from the stranger she'd bumped into, she recovered herself and offered him a small smile although she couldn't see his face in the darkness. backing up into the light, hoping the male would follow, she allowed the golden light of the lamp to illuminate her perfect body, and she stood in such a way which helped to outline her curves. "all alone on such a lovely night?" she asked, her voice turning silken and alluring now that she recognized the figure as male. *--- DAVID *--- CLOTHES *--- IT'S FINALLY DONE! |
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Post by trinitysilph on Nov 21, 2011 18:10:49 GMT -5
With the downturn of the economy, the poor are forced to turn to-- No.
On the day the government gets their heads out of their asses-- Definately not.
A cold street, late evening, winter. The streetlights are the only source of light and there is no warmth to be had. Picture yourself living here, surviving here. You are now one of the poor, drifting in and out on the tides of the compassion of the rich. Sounds like one of those stupid “feed the poor” commercials.
He sighed and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Sometimes his job really irritated him and this was one of those times – It was tricky to write a decent article about how shitty the world was that would actually draw people in. The scenery really didn't help either – this part of town was grubby, gritty, and completely ignored by the police, who only bothered to rush to the aid of the rich. The world was corrupted, gone to the dogs. If you didn't have money you weren't worth shit.
But then again, people like him could feed off that misfortune.
David was a reporter, a journalist for any magazine or newspaper that would take him. He generally stuck to the political and current events stories – the ones that offered a chance to really immerse himself in the story. He used to take jobs that let him review fine restaurants or sample the latest brew from this or that winery. He used to go to sports car dealerships and offer them good reviews for the chance to take their most expensive cars for a spin. He was young, but he was just good enough that they would usually let him, if they had read his work. These days, though... he was down to the nitty gritty crap, the sob stories and the miserable nights trudging around the city on foot to find this or that proof that the system was ruining the country and, because of globalization, the whole damn world. Back in the day he might have been able to pull off the whole “rebel against the Man” thing, but he was too old for that, too cynical. He was looking out for number one, with the exception of those kids who weren't really kids anymore. Tai and Bell were his life, but soon they'd be able to walk on their own two feet. Hell, Tai probably already could, given the chance.
He turned a corner and passed by a single homeless man, as grubby and cold as the rest of this godforsaken city. The man barely noticed his passing, muttering to himself in a drunken, drugged-up stupor. David shook his head and walked on. There was nothing he could do, after all – he would just have to hope the poor dumbass didn't drink or drug himself to death.
And then there were the prostitutes – oh boy, were there ever the prostitutes. They acted like they ran the joint but they were all broken, starved for attention and getting it – and their fix – from whatever perverted shmuck they could con some cash out of. None of them knew what a real relationship was and if any of them did they'd sure as hell forgotten it. He felt bad for them on some level but when it came down to the nitty gritty, as everything always did, he found he couldn't give less of a damn. They could just take their propositions and shove 'em.
But what if Bell took up this crap? What if she felt like she had to for some reason? What if she made the choice to sell her body for money and booze? David had never known his daughter to have that kind of weakness but lately she just seemed so... different. Not just grown-up, no that would have been ok. This was like she was afraid of something, or maybe it was just her nightmares starting to bother her again. He would shell out for a shrink if he had to, but he hoped they could work things out on their own before those godawful dreams got too expensive.
He strolled casually down the road - if his stalking gate could really be called a stroll - passing under streetlights whose dim glow wasn't enough to properly light the semi-dangerous territory. He barely let his thoughts wander, skimming over more and more opening lines for his article, none of which made it past the first thought. That deadline wasn't coming any slower, but at least he would comfort himself knowing that the first line was half the battle and maybe by the time it had been published he would see a little change in this bloody city.
Why had he chosen this city, of all the cities in the world? He could have left America and gone back to Dublin. He could have taken the kids to Canada or India or Japan or England. Anywhere but here.
But he had chosen here, and he made do with what he had. Maybe it was because the east was where he had last seen her smile. Maybe it was because it was the coast of the Atlantic Ocean they had been looking at on their last evening together, a night-time view of darkly glittering sea, before they got in that car. He had to go west and where better then than California?
There was still Canada, he thought grumpily. All citizenship applications aside.
Suddenly a minute force knocked him forward and he stumbled a step out of the light of one of the only strong lamps on the street before catching his balance. He heard a gasp and turned to see a woman all dressed in skimpy red gathering her belongings on the sidewalk. He recognized her for what she was instantly and made no attempt to help – he didn't want to encourage her. Still, he might as well stay to see if she was all right.
At first she seemed actually apologetic, but then she started her damn proposition and he could only roll his eyes. Didn't these old hags-- he paused. No... she wasn't old at all. In fact, she was probably only a year or two older than Tai and Bell, unless he missed his guess. What was a child like her doing on the streets like this?
“I like being alone,” he replied in a flat monotone. “Beats trying to make conversation.”
-- C O M P L E T E --
Words: 1088
OOC: Next post: The grand reveal! Can Ari stand the sight of the disfiguring scar? Stay tuned to find out! |
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Post by ariadne on Nov 22, 2011 15:39:42 GMT -5
Puts on her best smile But underneath she's a broken girl ariadne fixed the stranger with a curious look. he sounded so gruff when he spoke, and she could practically feel the anger in the air around him as she heard his words. beats trying to make conversation. she was taken aback even if for just a moment. sure, she'd been turned away by men before, but they weren't rude about it most of the time. even though this one was standoffish, however, she sensed something else in his rebuttal aside from the usual 'i'm busy and on my way home, but maybe another time'. she offered him a smile, her eyes cold even as she grinned at him, and curved her body toward him, moving into the shadow to join him. even in the shadow, her eyes weren't adjusted so she didn't see much of his face, but his gruff, deep voice seemed promising. he couldn't be too unattractive, and even if he was, what did it matter? if she was getting paid for sex, it really didn't matter what the customer looked like. her hand slid up to his chest, and she smiled again into the darkness.
"i can make the conversation for you if that would be easier," she smoothly replied, unabashed by his attempt to turn her away. if she walked away with the first rebuttal she heard every time, she would have missed out on some lucrative opportunities in the past. her lithe, panther-like body curved into his and she was pleased by his warmth in the cool outdoors. granted, california never got too terribly cold, which made it a good place for her profession due to the penchant toward skimpy clothing. "why would a man like you rather be alone than with a little..." her hand found the hem of his jacket and she gripped it firmly but not forcefully, "...company?"
ari had met her fair share of unwilling men in the past, and she'd managed to coax all of them into doing what she wanted anyway. that was almost all of them, she reminded herself. she had a scar on the lower left side of her back to remember that one forever. one night, she'd had the unfortune of running up on a thug who preferred his women free. when she'd tried to get him to pay, he'd shoved her roughly against a wall which had almost knocked her unconscious, raped her, and stabbed her in her side to remind her of her place. she hadn't gone out looking for a partner for a good two weeks afterward. for one, she was scared - although she wouldn't admit it - and secondly, she'd gotten a red welt from the stab wound and a nasty bruise that just wasn't attractive. no man wanted to see a woman with disgusting bruises on her. in her experience, they enjoyed her soft, creamy skin which smelled faintly of lavender at all times, in addition to her flowing blond hair which also smelled like lavender. she had found the scent not only orally pleasing but soothing to her customers. that was a big part of the deal. she was their escape for a night, not just another problem they had to deal with. she obeyed their desires and pleased them as no other woman could in those moments.
and she hated herself for it.
ariadne despised her lifestyle, but what other choice did she have? she hadn't graduated high school - surviving day to day was much more important than paying the government to teach her what they thought she should know - and she doubted most companies would allow a young woman in a short skirt to just walk in and start answering their phones. the few times she had tried to get a Real Job, she'd been shortly and sufficiently turned away. the women who saw her instantly balked at the idea of having such an attractive employee there and taking the attention from them.
inwardly, ari sighed even as she smiled up at the man and tried to reach for his hand down by his side. it was a routine, nothing more. on the inside, she was cold and hollow like a husk of a person. darkness dwelled on the fringes of her soul, and she was only steps from being consumed by it, but she didn't care. if she survived, let the darkness come. getting a hold, however tenuous, on his firm hand, she tugged him after her into the light. she would see him more fully. but as she stumbled into the light, fighting him slightly to get him to move, she gasped at the sight of him. her heart leapt into her throat and she took an involuntary step back as she tried to recover. even as fear swept over her at the sight of his face, a strange ping of sorrow flared in the pit of her stomach. she was scarred on the inside, and his was right out for everyone to see. *--- DAVID *--- CLOTHES *--- I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND THAT I INTRODUCED THE SCAR! I COULDN'T WAIT. LMAO BESIDES, MY POST WAS SUCKING AND NEEDED A LITTLE BIT OF ACTION. HAHA HAVE HIM SHOVE HER OR WHATEVER YOU WISH. XD |
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Post by trinitysilph on Nov 23, 2011 0:05:08 GMT -5
This child, this little girl, this tiny thing that called herself a woman... he hated her. He hated what she was, what the poor circumstances the world provided had made her. He hated the city, but at this point there was no getting away. He couldn't move the kids again so soon. They might even stay behind without him – they were old enough now.
He stood in the shadows and in the shadows he was comfortable. He was relatively unknown in Sapphire Bay, though he wouldn't be surprised if some people remembered his face. It was, after all, rather... memorable. His writing might be remembered by a soul or two, but it was his face that would really be remembered. Of course, whether or not anyone would connect that face with those articles was a matter for debate – he had sternly denied any and all requests to have his portrait next to his writing.
The little witch had inserted herself firmly in his personal bubble. He found himself glaring down at her as she pressed her skinny little body to his and tugged at his jacket. He should have removed her but he just couldn't bring himself to shove a girl who reminded him, by age at least, of his poor little Bell. What if Bell turned to...? He tossed the thought viciously from his mind. Bell would not become this.
The girl's proximity meant he could smell distinctly the perfume she had apparently taken a swim in. The smell of lavender was everywhere, floating off her body, her clothes, her hair. He was drowning in lavender. He wished he could shut down his sense of smell. Who wore that much perfume?
He held back a sigh – he was being unfair. It wasn't that much perfume. He was looking for reasons to hate her.
Really, the scent was almost... calming.
The girl reached for his hand. He let her take it, but he couldn't have said why. Maybe he was just too caught up in judging her to really notice or maybe he was just starved for affection (not that he would ever admit it, of course, even if he was aware of it). Either way, he only resisted a little when she pulled him back into the brightness of the streetlamp.
The sudden light after the darkness to which he had become accustomed momentarily blinded him and he blinked a couple times to clear the flickering white blobs from his sight. He heard her gasp; it stung. He knew what he looked like. He knew what the accident had done to him. He knew he had forgotten to ask Bell to help him hide the scar. He knew he had begun not to care.
It began at his left temple and cut a fierce valley across his face to the right corner of his mouth - The doctors said it had been a shard of glass from the shattered windshield.
The image was still too vivid, her scream before he lost control. He couldn't remember more and he was glad – this way he could simply push that bloodcurdling scream from his mind and know no more until he woke up in the hospital with thirty-seven stitches holding his face together.
The pain of that day was still very real.
She backed away a step, the little girl, and David stepped forward again, this time entirely of his own free will. His expression didn't change: still an emotionless mask. Still a mask marred by fatal loss.
“What's the matter, little girl?” He asked coolly. “Too ugly for a princess like you?”
What had he become? He never used to be this cold, this harsh, this... Bell would say 'grumpy.' Once upon a time he was-- no. This was now, not then. It would never be 'then' ever again.
-- C O M P L E T E --
Words: 644
Notes: My posts look so bland... but never fear, I'm working out a template! xD |
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Post by ariadne on Nov 23, 2011 11:58:44 GMT -5
Puts on her best smile But underneath she's a broken girl the scar had surprised her at first and caught her off guard, but it didn't gross her out or turn her off. instead, she wondered what had caused such a massive injury, and she marveled at how he'd survived it. in the experience of her life (which was flawed and dark at the best of times), people with such grievious injuries usually received them in a knife fight or some sort of gang war. she knew a girl who had been a fellow prostitute in los angeles who had a similar scar, except it was on her back where she'd been knifed down trying to save the love of her life from a mugging. the young man had died, and she lived with the constant remainder etched into the skin on her back. ariadne absentmindedly ran one hand over her side where her own scar lay, pale in comparison but shining like a bright light in her mind's eye. although her experience told her his scar was a horrible thing that marked him as some sort of gang leader or thug, her sixth sense told her something different. she didn't feel that he was some sort of murderer or evil person. when she looked into his eyes, past all of the cold, hardness, she saw pain very similar to her own. she was remarkably good at reading people, although it was a skill she kept to herself. she knew he hated her even if she didn't know the entirety of the reason why, but she also sensed that he hated himself for some reason.
What's the matter, little girl? Too ugly for a princess like you? he asked in his gruff tone, his eyes hardening even further as he glared furiously down at her. ariadne was too stunned to speak, so she closed her mouth so she was no longer gaping like a beached fish. instead of turning and running as most girls would probably have done at this point, that childlike curiosity of hers reared its head, and she took a step closer to him across the light. her hand reached up and gingerly touched his face, feeling the smooth skin where the scar had healed up. being naturally curious and innocent in ways most women in her line of work, with a past as screwed up as hers, never were, ariadne sometimes had a childish air about her. although she was very broken and jaded, she still saw magic in the world. she saw no magic in herself - she was too far gone for that - but she was amazed by the tiniest things in the world around her. "you're not ugly," she argued gently, withdrawing her hand and giving him some space. her act was gone, and all that was left was the shell of a young woman, broken by her life and by her world. "you're not ugly," she repeated quieter, shaking her head and feeling tears rising in her eyes. what was wrong with her? usually she was so calm and so cool in situations involving men, but this man had thrown her completely off guard. besides, he obviously saw her as nothing more than a teenager and not the woman she was. she'd probably seen more of the darker parts of the world than he had - or at least as much of it - but he looked at her like she was a dirty little street urchin.
and, for the first time, ariadne was ashamed.
hanging her head, she crossed her arms over her chest and backed away from him. "i'll leave you alone. sorry to bother you," she spoke meekly, her shame in her voice as she stepped back into the shadows, the red of her dress fading as she stepped out of the light. although she wanted to leave, she also wanted to stay so she couldn't make it more than a few steps into the darkness. she wasn't the type to argue with people so she didn't bark at him for calling her a little girl or looking at her with such hatred in his eyes. she just stood silently in the darkness and tried to find the will to do anything at all. turning her back on him, she stumbled over to a nearby brick wall and a wracking sob escaped her throat. she hoped he had turned and walked away so he didn't have to see her break down. she was exactly what she saw in his eyes: a whore, a mongrel, a child. and she could no longer live with herself. *--- DAVID *--- CLOTHES *--- TEMPLATE OR NO TEMPLATE, YOUR POSTS ARE AWESOME. I'M LOVING THESE TWO ALL OVER AGAIN! <3 |
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Post by trinitysilph on Nov 23, 2011 14:05:03 GMT -5
Whore or no, she certainly was a pretty little thing. David found himself wondering, as he glared, how she had ended up on the street. And more importantly, how had she managed to stay so beautiful in a profession that more often than not replaced human kindness with abuse and near-torture? Some could slip through the cracks, he guessed, but she was incredibly lucky not to be just one more of those street-corner hags he inevitably passed every time he came down this way looking for stories. Now they... they were the ones he hated. The ones who had fallen for the drugs and alcohol, the ones who couldn't survive without selling themselves anymore. But this girl... she was young, she was pretty, she could have made the world her oyster but she chose this. Why did she choose this? What was the allure?
She crept closer, a mouse drawing near to a cat. She was in his bubble again...
He didn't stop her as she reached up to his face and gently touched the scar. The skin tingled slightly where her tiny fingers ran over the slightly-raised flesh – he had never let anyone touch it before, with the exception of Bell covering it up.
Not ugly? She had strange tastes, that was for sure.
He reached up and caught her hand as she tried to pull it away. He wanted to squeeze, to crush it and hurt her as a warning, but he couldn't do it. His grip was as gentle as if he held a butterfly as he stared her down.
“Fine, princess, have it your way. But don't touch me.”
He let her pull away.
Confusion rose as tears began to well up in her eyes, filling the pale globes with the light of the streetlamp. Why was she crying? Was she that afraid?
Her body language had completely changed, switching from confident seductress to... was that shame? The shame of a child? He stood there, bathed in filthy yellow light, as she backed away, turned, and stumbled over to the nearby wall of a building. In the quiet of the street, with the sounds of the city merely a dull roar in the distance, he could hear her quite clearly.
The girl was crying.
Pity tinged with guilt tugged at his heartstrings. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He hadn't realized she still had that kind of emotion – the old hags never seemed to.
But on the other hand, she wasn't really one of them, was she?
His journalist's senses picked up on a story here and some part of him wanted to follow it, find out where it led. But the human side said no. It wasn't his business to pry into this poor girl's life. It wasn't his problem.
David almost turned to leave, but something about the heartbroken sobs drifting away from that wall in the dark stopped him. Something, maybe a sixth sense, maybe just his journalist's senses again, told him it would end very badly if he left. He didn't know what would happen, precisely, but that strange something told him... she would die. It wasn't so uncommon – prostitutes were killed all the time, or at least injured. Society didn't care. Normally he wouldn't have batted an eyelash.
This was different.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut for an instant, then straightened his jacket and followed her out of the light. He stood right behind her for a minute, watching her fragile little shoulders trembling like leaves in the wind, then moved around to her side and put an arm around her. He pulled her upright, firmly but gently, and tugged her along down the street, the way he had been heading when she bumped into him.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Let's go.”
-- C O M P L E T E --
Words: 642
OOC: What a softie... xD |
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Post by ariadne on Nov 26, 2011 12:29:04 GMT -5
Puts on her best smile But underneath she's a broken girl she garnered an irrational hope the guy had walked away and she was sobbing all by herself on a dark sidewalk. how many times had she been in this same place? maybe not this specific location on this specific sidewalk, but she'd been in this situation many times before. the most recent time she could remember was when hunter had died. she'd been there when the life left his eyes, and that memory tore holes inside of her like nothing that had happened to her ever had. she still woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with the image of his sightless green eyes staring up at nothing. as she leaned against the wall, the tears pouring down her face and running her mascara, her hands clenched in the pain that was more emotional than physical. the man's scar may be a physical reminder of whatever had happened to him, but the scars she had on the inside were much uglier and more painful. no, he wasn't ugly just because he had a scar on his face. she was far uglier on the inside than he was, despite his harsh behavior toward her. he was just a good citizen who hated what she did to make money; she couldn't fault him for that. if she had ever been a good citizen in her life, she would probably feel the same way.
as she wallowed in her own self-pity and torment, she barely noticed as he came up beside her and gently wrapped an arm around her waist to guide her away from the wall. the action was far more sympathetic than she had expected from him, and if she hadn't been so consumed in her emotions she would have examined the behavior more, but as it was, she didn't really think about it. she let him guide her for a while, but then she tried to stop her sobbing for a moment so she could speak. before she gained her voice back, she gently planted her hand on his side and pushed away from him, wiping her eyes and shaking her head as she came to a stop on the sidewalk. finally, she could speak again.
"no... i'm... i'm fine..." she hiccuped, her face screwed up with the crying which hadn't run its course fully. "just...i'm sorry... i should have never..." she shook her head as more tears came and she just couldn't slave through them anymore. without thinking, she fell on him in sorrow, her hands against his chest as she began sobbing. the images of hunter and the blood everywhere were too much for her now, and she would have fallen to her knees right on the sidewalk if the stranger hadn't been holding her upright.
she allowed him to lead her now, having no idea where they were going. her vision was blurry and the tears and sobs were too much to fight against so she let him lead her blindly. her trust in people wasn't typical for one of her profession, but that attributed to her uncharacteristic innocence about the world. she was one of those anomalies in the world: a walking contradiction. she'd seen death in its most violent forms and she'd done many things normal citizens would probably committ suicide for if they were ever lowered to that point, yet she maintained a childlike belief that the rest of the world - despite her own shortcomings and faults - remained pure. even when she should be wondering if this stranger was going to carry her off down some alleyway and shank her, she knew intrinsically that he wouldn't. she believed he was better than that even past his gruffness and the scar which had initially scared her.
"where... are we... going...?" she choked out, leaning heavily on him now as the sobs began to finally abate. *--- DAVID *--- CLOTHES *--- ICK, HOPE IT WAS ALRIGHT... x) |
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