Sasha prefers to open (carry) wrote in repose, @ 2017-03-15 16:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, f eames, sasha james |
Log: Eames and Sasha
Who: Eames and Sasha
What: We can't stop here, this is bat country.
Where: Dreams~
When: Now-ish.
Warnings/Rating: Drug mentions at the very least. Will update.
They were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. You see, every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard to Las Vegas with the convertible top down and music at top volume. Which is precisely what Sasha was doing. Except for the driving part. It wasn't her turn.
Who was driving? Sasha had no clue. Maybe it was her attorney. Maybe it was her best friend. And maybe it was an absolute stranger. It made no difference as endless desert rolled by in a hallucinogenic trailing blur. A sea of swirling ocher cut through with iridescent pavement to guide the Eldorado to Sin City. The slashing pulse of broken yellow lane paint could be heard as they drove past in hypnotic beat of swish swish swish.
It would have been downright relaxing if it wasn't for the birds. Bats? Whatever they were, they flew and flapped and were made of shadow, swooping low to peck with electric bites unless one was quick enough to duck out of the way. Or if one knew some really sweet kung-fu moves they could be hi-ya'd right out of existence. The girl in the red hawaiian shirt was the latter, up one side and down the other, swatting the little beasties away from her every few minutes.
The shadows weren't affecting the driver at all. Maybe they weren't a real threat after all. ...ha ha ha HA HA HA. Of course they were. The shadows and the shadows' little birds had always been a threat.
A blurry figure stood at the side of the road. It was awful suspicious to be out here. After all, the only people that took this road were the bad guys. This is where Walter White would cook his meth. This is where you buried bodies no one was supposed to ever find. This desert was where you lived in secrets. It was a real shame that Waffle House hadn't gotten in on this. They'd fit right in. That food was a crime. Either way, whoever was out here alone? Should not be picked up.
The car slowed, and Sasha straightened in alarm at the shift in speed. "Are you stopping?" she demanded from the driver. Panic. "Don't stop. Don't. Stop." The shadows. Why would they stop in the middle of this attack? That short golden cigarette holder was clenched hard between her teeth, while paranoid wide eyes shot left and right behind large yellow aviator shades. "WHYAREYOUSTOPPING?" Never mind that this outburst may have seemed rude to the hitchhiker they had stopped in front of. No matter. She'd take care of this. Sasha patted down her shirt and pants frantically. Gun. Gun. ...Where was her damn gun?