twiststheblade: (these feet walking)
[personal profile] twiststheblade
One alley in Old Town is much like another. High, wet walls enclosing narrow streets, empty windows staring like blind eyes, uncaring, over the events below. The odd flicker of neon reflecting mirrored off the slick surfaces, adding garish highlights. Yellow pools of sodium lights, a perhaps surprisingly large number of the streetlamps un-broken, burning brightly in the night.

This particular alley is clean of trash, dirt swept away by the rain, litter cleared away. The girls will not tolerate their territory to be filthy. Human trash, though - the alley is visited by that tonight. A pair of men - boys, really, drunk and confident, breath steaming in the cool air, have a whore backed up against a wall. One of them is whispering in her ear, hand on her shoulder keeping her still, while the other leans against a lampost, grinning, all machismo and bravado and white teeth.

The whore shakes her head, and starts to slip out of the man's grip. He snarls, and slams her back against the wall, eyes hot and wet and angry. The whore's eyes, by contrast, are almost pitying, even as he back-hands her across the face, snapping her head sideways.

This is where it all goes wrong.

There is a disturbance in the air, rain seeming to fall around a patch of space, defining it for a moment not by what is there but by what is not, until the space is filled by two bodies.

The whore's eyes widen, as she looks over the man's shoulder.

Date: 2007-01-01 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
I traipse along behind, having let go of her hand a few blocks back.

I'm less scared now, and more angry. The fury is building inside me, like a huge storm massing at the edge of my consciousness, dark and malevolent; like a pack of hungry rottweilers waiting to be unleashed.

I want payback for my loss. For her loss. I want blood.

But that doesn't seem too likely here.

Date: 2007-01-01 11:10 pm (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (if i die in a combat zone)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
Up the stairs they go.
(three of swords)
Mary Anne seems to have absorbed some of Miho's silence, keeping her mouth shut once they crossed the threshold.
(ten of swords)
There's things here she doesn't understand, and flashes of her sword siblings' influence. She doesn't like it.

Date: 2007-01-01 11:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
It gnaws at me, eating away at my self-control. It shoves at me like a petulant school boy.

I want to lash out at something.

Anything...

Date: 2007-01-01 11:24 pm (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (hands)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
"Thanks," she murmurs, accepting the towel and beginning to dry off her hair. After that, she turns her attention to her knives.

Date: 2007-01-01 11:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
Vaguely reminiscent of her room at the bar, at least in terms of the scant furnishings and minimalism. I don't like it. It just adds to the feeling of emptiness that's welling in my gut.

I... need to turn my attention elsewhere, so I make some peremptory efforts at drying my hair. It's way past simple recovery though, and my rubbing just leaves it horribly frizzy.

Unsurprisingly, this doesn't help my mounting rage.

Date: 2007-01-01 11:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
Things are just... happening around me now.

In a blur.

I look over at her and...




No.

Date: 2007-01-01 11:49 pm (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (lie to me)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
solitude exile misery concern

despair suffering conflict defeat degredation dishonor

failure conquered overwhelmed struggle strife

stagnation immobile abandonment surrender

debacle disaster self-destruction


"Oh holy hell."

Date: 2007-01-01 11:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
No.
Yes.
No...
Yes...
No no no no no no no...


Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes...


"NO!"

Date: 2007-01-02 12:47 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (not all there)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
Mary Anne runs a hand through her hair.

"'S bit of a shock," she murmurs.

"Seeing your...seeing you." She sinks down onto the futon, patting the space beside her. "C'mere, sweetness."

Date: 2007-01-02 12:56 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (golden)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
She kisses her lightly on the cheek.

"We missed you, and...we were worried."

She hesitates before asking, "What happened to you?"

Date: 2007-01-02 01:17 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (the people that we love)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
Well, it was worth a shot. She still has one more option.

"I can find out," she says softly.

"If you don't mind, I can look. You won't have to see it again."

Date: 2007-01-02 01:36 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (queen - salve regina)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
"'M taking that as a yes, then."

She takes Miho's hand in hers and her eyes darken a shade.

(bound and beaten and blood in the corner of her mouth and a boy with a face like hersMiho's her brother and pain and pain and every

last

blow that left a scar on hertheir back she feelshears screaming until there is no voice there is no need for a voice we are a thing beyond a voice and there's just enough breath left for--


"--I love you."

She gasps, as if surfacing from beneath deep water, her grip on Miho's hand almost white-knuckled. She lets go carefully.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't here and I couldn't stop it and I am so very sorry."

She presses a kiss to Miho's damp hair; it helps hide the fact that she's crying.

Date: 2007-01-02 01:42 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (the people that we love)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
She hugs Miho back, though almost gingerly, as if afraid of breaking her further (as if she could still be broken).

"We came to bring you home," she says.

"If you'll come with us."



"Please."

Date: 2007-01-02 02:01 am (UTC)
song_tra_bong: (smile)
From: [personal profile] song_tra_bong
She stands up, smiling faintly.

"Okay, then. Let's go round up Goldy and we're set."

Date: 2007-01-02 02:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com
When I find myself, I'm sitting on the edging wall of the rooftop. The rain is drumming monotonously on the asphalt underfoot, and I'm thoroughly soaked again.

I don't care.

redangryscars...
slicesandwealsandsomuchpain...

Though I had little control over my actions, I don't regret the damage I did down there. It wasn't a kill, but I feel better for it anyway. Washed clean of my anger. Calmer. More at peace with the whole situation, though I still hate it. Hate everything. Through the good grace of whatever ethereal powers oversee this world, I manage to get a cigarette lit in the still-torrential downpour. That helps too.

(no subject)

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