Buried Beneath Who: Savannah and CJ When: On deck Where: Late (about halfway through the rock show) Rating: NSFW
Some days, there was nothing you could do to escape it. Savannah dearly wished she were back home, surrounded by people who cared about her. Surrounded by her sorority sisters, Savannah rarely felt this way. They had too much fun, and they never hesitated to tell each other how good they looked. What Savannah needed was to hear those magic words... You look good, girl! She had hoped to find those magic words from someone at the concert, but all she'd gotten for her trouble was a headache.
Of course, the headache might also have something to do with the drink she had downed inside, but she preferred to blame the concert.
Rather than prolong her suffering, she had decided that some fresh air would do her an immeasurable amount of good. She stood on deck now in her "rocker girl" outfit -- a soft pink form-fitted tank-top, a black short-skirt, and the knee-tall black boots. Normally, she scoffed at mosh-pit boots, but this particular pair was cute, hip, and stylish, featuring no less than five inches of stiletto heel. The light breeze fiddled with the strands of her long hair, which she had thrown up behind her head with a black butterfly clip. Occasionally, a strand would tickle the back of her neck or her shoulder blades, making her shiver and giving her goosebumps. She looked like she was fresh off a runway.
Savannah rested her elbows against the railing, propping her head in her hands as she stared out over the dark water. It wasn't often her thoughts ran this deep, but, when they did, she preferred to be alone. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to see through her carefully-applied mask -- Jesse or Samantha least of all. She could manage her own problems...
Or could, if she were back home.
Out here, she didn't know what to do to combat the Disease...