Jules and Grace like the (baretrees) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-11-01 14:10:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | grace |
Who: Jules
What: Narrative: Life-changing things
Where: Around LV
When: Recent
Warnings/Rating: Don't click the link inside if you're squeamish
Jules had been hiding through the door since he'd gone and died at that damn party. It had turned him all around, dying. He'd known what it felt like when them lights went out, all on account of having that damn memory of what Hannah had felt in the desert. So he knew, and Violet knew, though she didn't remember her own dying at all. But it weren't the same as being the one whose lights went dim. Jules was shook up something fierce, and he'd just kept sliding back on through the door to Dorian's place, where it was gloomy and he could hide in the mind of a girl whose biggest concern at the moment was wanting nothing to do with corsets, seeing as Tate hadn't been anywhere in days. Violet was worried about that some, but that wasn't Jules' concern neither. He was hiding - plain and simple.
And somewhere amid all that hiding, he got kicked out of the door, and it was the weirdest thing he'd ever felt. It took him a second to realize why it felt weird-
Because there wasn't no girl in his mind fussing over corsets.
He went home, and he tried to fix on what had changed, but all he could think about was dying. Him dying. Not Hannah. Not Violet. Him.
It was quiet for a full day and change. He wandered to Caesars, and he quit his job, because damn if he was gonna waste life as a prep cook, not after knowing what it felt like to have it all just be done. No way he was gonna cut vegetables and set potatoes to boiling. He wandered the strip, found himself in the Drink and Drag, where the sign in the window said they were looking for burlesque. Jules knew the place real well - drag joints tended to be real well known in the circles of folks he knew - and he walked on in and sold himself to the manager.
He had a job by the time the day was done, and he found himself wondering after Loren on the walk home. It was during that thinking when she showed up, sounding all French and real unimpressed with everything. Grace, she called herself, though Jules wasn't sure that French folks named their offspring something so English. Either way, he was sure she was living, and that was a step in the right direction. Maybe Loren would come out of that damn door now.
Grace, in his mind, hummed with something like disapproval, and hell if Jules could tell just what she was disapproving of. It was a grand old start, and Jules weren't foolish enough to expect no better.