Adair (god_forsaken) wrote in darkcarnivale, @ 2011-06-23 13:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | adair, angel |
Who: Adair and OPEN
What: Everybody eats, even Adair
Where: The darker areas of the carnival grounds
When: Late, just before closing
Rating: TBD
Status: ongoing
When her heart still beat, Adair never touched a drop of alcohol that wasn't in a Communion Challis; her life had been comprised of quiet poise, propriety, and temperance--vices such as the Drink were not for good, god-fearing women to imbibe: only to suffer their effects on the men in their life. Adair never liked alcohol because of what it did to her, indirectly. Nowadays, however... things were different.
The beer tent was indirectly her main source of sustenance. The carnival proprietress detested using what she called 'her curse' in order to sway the minds or emotions of those she fed upon, even 200 years into her Unlife, a deep part of her viewed it as the Devil's Hand inside her. She relied on her experience sharpened wits and careful observation--and the inebriation of her prey. The current prospects were a pair of drunken Thirty-somethings that'd come in for the dark entertainment of the mysterious circus, where performers were dressed with Gothic mystique to further their whimsical fantasies. Adair was no different, even if she had no act to perform in, her entire existence was a performance to these people--so she dressed the part. It also helped her stick to the shadows as she followed the pair as they stumbled, chuckling and murmuring to each other, in the direction of the parking lot.