InsaneJournal

Tweak says, ".....danger zone."

emyli parker is addicted (rudeandcrude) wrote in light_of_may,
@ 2014-03-18 01:19:00

Entry tags:

#group scene, 2009-10-04, cherry, emyli, raphael

i'm not a slut, i just love love
WHO | Emyli ~~& OPEN~~, Cherry, and Raphael
WHERE | Streets of Scarlet Oak
WHEN | Night

The night of the full moon never meant anything special to Emyli. She always saw it as just another night where she could get trashed. Of course, she usually ended her night with just arriving to Blitzed-ville rather than starting it that way. The cocktail of drugs that was swimming in her system had given her a nice, hazy buzz for the past few days. It helped that every time she began to sober up she popped another pill. She ignored the fact that she rarely used drugs of this caliber, a feat that was made even easier thanks to the drugs in her system.

Her heels clacked against the sidewalk and she shivered. She'd left her jacket back at Toby's. Or maybe it was at the bar she just left. Regardless, she didn't turn back to see. She merely stumbled ahead with her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to hug some warmth to her. Her thoughts turned towards Toby. He was probably enjoying the full moon. It was a were thing, after all. She hadn't really stopped to talk to him that much since slipping into his dreams the other night. She expected that she might make an appearance in his dreams, but the fact that she was center stage of his thoughts? It was trippy. More to the point, it was hella awkward because it wasn't the typical X-rated dream that Emyli would have figured Toby to have about her. Picnics, jokes... He dreamt about dating her.

That knowledge covered Emyli in a shawl of discomfort. How was she supposed to act around him knowing that's what he thought about her? Sure, it could have been a fluke but she doubted it. The feeling made her want to distance herself from Toby. Which mean spending time in that house while he wasn't there... and his whiny roommate was. No matter how terrified she was of Eileen, she needed some fresh air. She stopped short and began to feel over her pants and purse for a cigarette and lighter. She found the former stuffed in a pocket of her purse, bent but not broken. The lighter was nowhere to be found. The sound of footsteps brought her gaze up and she needed a second for her vision to adjust and focus on the person approaching.

With her bent cigarette barely hanging in her lips, Emyli accosted the person. "Hey, got a light? Promise to make it worth your while."

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bitchgrenade
2014-03-18 04:03 pm UTC (link)

Cherry… did not even know it was actually the full moon. That would require a knowledge of the lunar cycle or actually bothering to look to the sky and she only did the last one when she left the house and was met with immediate confusion because it wasn’t daylight. She needed it to be daylight so she could go to the music store and replace the plectrums (plectra…?) that she’d gone through. Someone had totally chewed one of them. And sure, she was supposed to be nocturnal or whatever, but she really was kind of bugged that it was night just now. None of the stores would be open and she’d gotten up and even gotten changed and everything. Sonofabitch. Dismissing both Kage and Aravis (why were both of them around anyway?) and putting up one hell of a bitch-fit to get rid of her human security, who would end up tailing her anyway but whatever, she stepped out into a night she figured should be cold-ish but she couldn’t feel a damn thing. One of the few things Cherry had to say for being dead was that she could wear what she liked and the weather didn’t make a fucking difference.

She stuck a jacket on anyway, for the look of it more than anything else.

Avoiding the majority of the bars and whatever had meant that she’d skipped over that part where a bunch of people called her name like it meant she’d sleep with them -- which, even halfway through a hipflask of angelic-and-very-stoned that was never going to happen. She was more likely to actually notice which stage of the moon they were up to (although she figured it wasn’t the Dark Side and she’d noticed the lack of weres, and it was freaky-strange). In fact, she was more amused by her nail polish at the moment than anything else. At least, for now, Cherry’s high was a good high. Admittedly, it wouldn’t take much to flip that but she could ride it out. She could.

As she approached the girl with the cigarettes, the vampire pouted slightly. God, she missed smoking. “I got matches,” she drawled, closing the gaps in a couple of strides and striking up. “You can have the whole pack it you want ‘em.” As for the rest, her nose wrinkled slightly. She could smell the drugs in her and yeah, they were appealing, but Cherry was a fussy eater. It was always better when her own blood-type got stoned. “And no offense, babe, but you’re not my type.” Her head tilted back, allowing her an eyeful of the moon in all it’s really fucking shiny glory. “Oh. So that where all the damn weres went. Well, shit.” Someone could’ve told her. She was sure she employed several.

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satanicmechanic
2014-03-18 07:48 pm UTC (link)

The full moon was always an interesting time. A while ago, it had been because seeing all those human animals giving into violent urges they didn't know they had brought a single tear to Raphael's eye. But that wasn't true anymore. Apart from the occasional howl or growl there was an eerie silence in the streets, likely due to the hoopla about bitten weres that had caused everybody to cease their running around on nights like this. Not that Raphael particularly enjoyed having to fight off the occasional deranged monster. Right now it felt like the ideal set up. It was always the crazy ones who found themselves out on nights like this, when something dangerous might be afoot - and, despite the date, he didn't mean just the weres.

Leaning against a wall in the darkest corner of the street, courtesy of the malfunctioning street lamp a couple steps away, Raphael had witnessed the exchanged between the two not-so-different women with mild amusement. Raphael highly doubted a nicotine addiction was enough to make someone want to fuck for a lighter, but then maybe the girl just needed a reason to want to fuck somebody. As if a reason was needed.

When he paid attention, he found this particular one really didn't need a reason. She wants to consume the world's weight in drugs, though. he realized. If he offered her some coke he could probably string her along for the rest of the day - or until the coke was gone. He could surround her with enough drugs and sex to make her die happy, but it would take work. That's how much she wanted pretty much anything she "wasn't supposed to have", how easy it was to hook her on anything that felt good for five seconds. He could work with that. The other one...well she seemed one step away, one wrong word away from unleashing hell on herself. To fill a void. Ah, tortured souls. Upon closer look, Raphael snickered loudly. He recognized her. "Cherry Wilder uses matches. Not sure if it's too old fashioned or if it fits." He commented, stepping from the shadows before either woman could notice his red eyes shining in them. He looked at the other girl, removing his own lighter from his back pocket, and wiggled it between his fingers in her direction. "In case you'd like a more modern approach."

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rudeandcrude
2014-03-18 08:21 pm UTC (link)

So, she requested a light and her prayers were answered with not one but two options. Maybe there was a God. Especially since both of the people standing next to her were probably the prettiest pieces of eye candy she had seen in a hot minute. When the woman -- who Emyli could have sworn she'd seen somewhere before, she just couldn't place it -- said that she wasn't her type, Emyli just shrugged. Maybe a small piece of her was glad for it; whatever sensible, sober part of her mind remembered Eileen at the moment reminded her that the last time she hit on a woman, she came out almost dying. Besides, a freebie was a freebie. She reached out a hand to accept the matches and winced slightly. She really needed to learn to use the other arm to avoid pulling at her bandages. She was pretty sure it was about time for the stitches to come out, but she wasn't about to make a return trip to the hospital to talk to her doctor and find out.

She studied the man and she felt as though his appearance alone was enough to wash away that nagging voice in her head that tried to remind her of Eileen. She stared at him for a long minute before the name he said registered in her mind. Wasn't that a musician or something? Emyli never paid much attention to music or the people who performed; it was always a little hard to focus on the words of a song when stoned out of your mind. Still, the name rang a bell and she was sure she had listened to the music at some point or another. Now the real choice stood before her: lighter or matches.

"Let's see. Lighter now for the quick, reliable thing. Matches for later when I know I'm going to need them." She gave a self assured nod and hooked her thumb in her belt loop. "I dig the old school thing, though. Almost classy." Emyli eyed the girl, Cherry, again. Yep, she definitely looked like she stepped off of a rock and roll mag or something. "Those shoes are killer, by the way. Ever think about lending them out to anybody, be sure and give me a call." She snorted. "Now, how about that light?" She held out the cigarette slightly, her thumbnail slid idly along the edge of her pinky nail and hooked a loose chip of fingernail polish.

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bitchgrenade
2014-03-18 10:14 pm UTC (link)

This particular Enlightened did not make a habit of noticing how people reacted to her. Matter of fact, she made a point of trying not to unless it really rubbed her up the wrong way. The use of her name in most sentences by a voice she didn’t recognise went ignored. Most of the time. In… theory. In practice, the hand that used to hold the matches brushed her hair from out of her face with a vague kind of confusion while the other flicked the already-lit match away before her fingertips burned. Which they were about to. For some reason, what this guy had said had caught her attention, though, and she glanced at him over her shoulder, leaning back on one heel while the other foot flashed its bright red sole at him. “Cherry Wilder carries matches,” she corrected in the tone of one who had either been told or had read too many facts about herself, true or not. “And I’ve been dead since 1985, stud -- not much of me can be called new.” She wasn’t being a bitch, she was just stating facts. Even her return album had been written in the 80s, all of it about Duke and Cash and dying in general.

That being said, she did have to smile at being called ‘old school’. She wasn’t even as old as Steven Tyler or Mick Jagger or anybody she would maybe, just maybe consider old school. And maybe she wasn’t so likely to give anybody a call or necessarily hand out her shoes, but she had a fuckton of cards to hand out. Kage called them business cards, but all they ever did was get high, so… whatever. She’d do that in a bit. Once she’d found the cards in her bag and -- oh, her flask. In the effort to lean against something that wasn’t obviously mortal or funky-smelling (well, he was funky-smelling), Cherry had ended up wrapped around the nearest streetlight a bit like it was her best friend. Not that she’d noticed -- she was too busy going through her bag, then knocking back pretty much what was left of her Very Stoned Angelic. There was just something about… something in this situation here that she wasn’t sure she could put her finger on? But she didn’t think it was right. But then when she was stoned she got freaked out by shit like cars with really bright headlights. Japan was a total nightmare.

“Hold the fuck up,” she demanded, regardless of what was actually going on with the other two -- she wasn’t watching or listening, instead she was twirling around the streetlight like a child. “I-- You-- No, you both smell wrong.” And that was, for now, all Cherry had to say on the matter.

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satanicmechanic
2014-03-19 01:28 am UTC (link)

Of course the girl would go for both. Raphael was under the impression she would go for all things offered, and look for those that weren't. He could definitely work with this. Being corrected like that irked him but Raphael smiled in the rockstar's direction instead. "Why do you carry them if you don't use them?" He asked, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. He liked being called stud, however, because that only proved Cherry Wilder wasn't visually impaired - which she wouldn't be anyway due to vampirism, but still. "Oh, I'm sure you still have a few unseen tricks up your sleeve." He teased. Banging an undead rockstar. Yes, or yes? Oh, yes.

He watched her wrap her arms around a streetlight with a raised eyebrow, wondering just what the hell she was doing...or what the hell she was on. Ah, that's probably what it was. She seemed to be downing the drink pretty fast and decisively, like someone who needed to knock back a few to cope with a situation. Was she onto him? Or was the girl the problem? Raphael decided not to sweat it and turned to the latter with a charming smile. He closed the distance between them in a few strides, and ignited his lighter to burn the tip of her cigarette. "FYI," he began, conspiratorially, "You're definitely my type." What wasn't, honestly?

Cherry Wilder's sudden demand startled the demon a little, who turned around to look at her once again. He bit him bottom lip to curb the effects of watching her twirling - snaking - around the streetlight, and then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Shit. Raphael really didn't want to be responsible for murdering one of his most recent favorites, but he would if he fucking had to. God dammit, Cherry Wilder. Raphael widened his gaze, blinking a couple of times. "Wh-what?" Acting innocent until proven guilty was a staple of every guilty person's behavior.

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rudeandcrude
2014-03-19 03:22 am UTC (link)

Emyli's smile slid just past coy to flirtatious as she waited for her cigarette to be lit. She pulled a long drag of the cigarette and watched as the end burned merrily as a stream of smoke rose steadily from the tip. "I take it you like cheap booze too?" She asked the man, blowing out a small puff of smoke as she grinned. Cheap girl, cheap drink. It didn't matter how much you classed somebody up: everyone looked the same in the dark and tasted just as cheap and tawdry as the last person. Thoughts like that might have sobered Emyli up, or at least made her a little bit self aware. Not now. No, she was far too gone to even begin thinking with what little sense she had.

"Hey," she sputtered out at Cherry. "Fuck you very much -- I showered today." It wasn't until after she responded that she began to wonder if it wasn't something a little more that the woman was referring to. A blip of panic ran through her thoughts quickly, but it was dulled easily by the haze of drugs in her system. She had this brief, wild theory that Eileen had gotten together with other supernaturals in the area and discussed how odd she found Emyli's blood. What if that bitch had actually sold it to someone and they got a taste for her that they couldn't satiate? For fuck's sake... Emyli swallowed and took another drag off of her cigarette before she glanced over at the guy who looked like he was carved out of fucking marble. That helped. A lot, actually. She let any flashing thought of Eileen float away.

"Whatever you're on, honey, I think you ought to share." Anything that made the streetlamp seem like a good dance partner had to be good shit. Emyli just hated she was missing out.

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bitchgrenade
2014-03-19 02:02 pm UTC (link)

“Easier to keep the conversation going, maybe make friends -- whatever.” From her podium on the streetlight, Cherry shrugged lightly. She wasn’t paying all that much attention to what was being said or when or in what tone, but that last bit didn’t ever matter because she replied how she wanted. As for whether or not she has any unseen tricks up her sleeve, the answering thought that she had Duke written up the inside of her left sleeve caused the ache in her chest to resurface. “I got more ink, anyway.” Her thumb absent-mindedly ran over the tattooed wedding ring and she tilted her head against the streetlight. If she hadn’t been so full of angelic she could have cried.

Now she was just waiting for the very stoned part to kick in all over again.

Blinking at the funny-smelling girl’s reaction whatever the fuck it was that she apparently said (why should she care if she’d had a shower or not?), Cherry’s head tilted to look at the funny-smelling guy’s (he actually smelled kinda like demonic, only demonic-like-whoa so God only knew what a taste of that would turn her into) face and only got a question in return. Why was he looking at her like that? “Don’t look at me like that, man,” her voice came out a stoned drawl. “I might be very nearly royally fucked but I can still tell it doesn’t fit you.” And only very nearly because not all of what she had knocked back had hit her system yet. Oh, but it was about to. “And I’m sure your shower was real nice, honey.” She added it as a rather late afterthought, not wanting to leave the girl out more than anything else.

Along a similar vein of thought, she offered what was left of her flask (like… the dregs), hanging towards her from the streetlight by one hand and her toe just to keep balance. “It’s Angelic Stoner.” A beat. “A-positive, if that even makes a difference.” Since the girl seemed to be higher than she was, Cherry wasn’t sure it did. Would a non-vampire go that far just to get higher? Suddenly she really wanted to know, and side-eyed the other guy almost curiously to see whether he’d stop her if the girl tried taking it.

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satanicmechanic
2014-03-22 04:41 am UTC (link)

Cherry Wilder's reason for carrying matches was, Raphael had to admit, a bit crap. "Really?" He asked, disappointed. "I don't think you need a gimmick to keep the conversation going." Okay he was overdoing it but he was going for the starstruck yet cool fan thing. Not wanting to waste time wondering whether the ink thing had been an invitation, Raphel smirked. "I'd love to see it, then." He saw the passing thoughts of desperation in her head, wanting to come undone out of aching for someone she couldn't have. It was curbed, however, by whatever she was on. Just as well. They wouldn't want a sobbing rockstar, that would just be sad.

"Tell you a secret?" Raphael nearly purred at the girl, a sly flirtatious grin coming over his face. "I like whatever's available." That seemed like the perfect amount of degrading-yet-relatable for a girl like her. It was cheesy but it worked. It had worked before. It would again. With his face, it would always work. Her little outburst at the rockstar amused Raphael, who decided to remain silent during the exchange. When the girl looked back at him he saw hunger in her eyes and in her thoughts. He smiled more. It was on.

Cherry Wilder was at it again, not making much sense this time around. Raising one eyebrow, Raphael attempted to assess whether or not he still had to entertain the thought of murdering her. "I have no idea what you're talking about...but okay." He nodded with a condescending smile he hadn't meant to let show. He turned to the girl at the mention of a nice shower. Eyeing her up and down, Raphael smiled again. "Yeah, I'm sure it was." His gaze focused on hers for a second before moving away. He almost shuddered when the rock star revealed what was in her flask. He had never tried angelic blood, but he was sure it would cause him the demonic equivalent of anaphylactic shock, and Raphael was not here for any of that. Without a word he looked back at the girl, his chosen prey only because Cherry Wilder, while more prized, was also proving to be too damn difficult.

He wasn't going to stop the girl. In fact, he wanted her to keep going; he only hoped she stayed alive long enough for them to have some fun, and for the stench of angelic scum to wash off of her. If he got his own on her enough it might.

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rudeandcrude
2014-04-07 10:39 pm UTC (link)

"Mhm," Emyli's voice was low and a touch smug. "I'm sure you do." Her smile was a sloppy sort of coy, a look she ought to have had a patent on by this point. There was no derision in her tone, nor did she think on his words enough to find the place where she should have been offended. Even with fewer drugs in her system, the dream eater would have reacted much the same way to his words. Life was too short to get offended, and when you dressed like her and acted like her, people were going to make comments like that. What was the point in getting pissy when it was true as hell? She knew she was easy and she wasn't ashamed of it. She was the type of girl put on the planet to enjoy everything there was to enjoy as fast and hard as she could. Someone told her once it was a good way to die young and Emyli's response was nothing short of Exactly.

She didn't follow a word of what Cherry was saying, not really, but she smiled and laughed softly as though she did. It was an easy act to put on, especially when she could hide her smile behind the cigarette she was puffing on slowly. She honestly couldn't remember if her shower was nice or not (or really even if it had taken place today or the day before), but she nodded with a shrug. She was thinking about responding when the flask was being offered to her. Emyli accepted it without really thinking, wondering what in the world Angelic Stoner meant in regards to the contents. Even the A-positive bit was lost on her. There was no hesitation in her movements as she brought the flask up to her lips and allowed the remnants of the thick liquid to dribble down past the mouth of the flask. One drop caused her to pause. A second was enough to remind her that the metallic taste was not booze. A third told her it was blood.

The flask came down and she pulled a godawful face before tossing it back towards Cherry. Had she been sober enough, she might have slapped herself for being so stupid. Fucking vampires drinking fucking blood. Of course they had spiked blood. She made a gagging sound before she started to laugh at herself -- might as well be the first one laughing when you're the butt of a joke. Her laughter didn't stop the way her stomach started rolling as she thought about blood. Still, she tried to keep up appearances. That, and she really didn't want them to realize how close to hurling she was. "Remind me to never be a fucking vamp. Shit's nasty."

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