[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/gmoqfYX.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Something about this evening was unsettling.
Not necessarily convinced it was the position she found herself in that was the problem, Fortune considered that possibly the location was at fault. Something about sterile white hallways made her uneasy. Maybe having spent much of her earlier years crawling through the graffiti plastered urban jungles of heavy metropolitan areas had brought about a sense of appreciation for color. Arcadia was pure and unfettered by canvas favorites the Fae had grown attached to, and if she could relate her experience at that lone isle desk, it was to that of her time back in the far reaches of the veil. It wasn't where she wanted to be. Away from any obligations pushed her way by the real world, there was a bed with her name on it. Done up in decadent fashion, with 500 count Egyptian cotton sheets and some sleazy vixen who liked hand cuffs and small talk. Fortune didn't kid herself into thinking this was waiting in the near future, or even in a future she could reasonably obtain, but it was one the buxom beauty could picture, and inevitably, cling to. This daydream waited patiently and didn't shy away when the worst case scenario came to pass; one could hope it wasn't too farfetched. She didn't actually have a backup fantasy readily available to replace the current one if it didn't pan out.
She may have napped on the desk. Maybe.
However long the cool surface of her desk had been a pillow, Fortune savored the experience. There was a sort of pine scent to the clear varnish, likely as old as the desk itself, but it wafted like it was new to the Fae. The smell reminded her of times when she would scour the treeline with brighter eyes and a keener motive. Reminded her of place she had once considered home, before the drifting and the falling out. There were places elsewhere that no one she met could relate to visiting, but somehow had opinions on. It was like everyone had a case of social deja vu, and they could recall what was mentioned but had no fucking idea what they were saying. It was the nod and agree treatment. A sure sign you didn't actually have friends. Not that this was anything new to Fortune, but she often caught herself asking them questions about themselves without the act being reciprocated. Sighing, stretching, a collection of slender limbs all seemed to move in unison as the creature removed her features from her workspace.
Had the Fae not found herself resting against the high back of her chair, she may not have seen Zeno exit the elevator. Had Fortune been a more intelligent woman, she would have fled as the flurry of cold rushed her way, crossing her skin to leave goose flesh in it's wake. The winter he brought as a platform made her instinctively stiffen, her hands moving to brush along her exposed flesh while the rest of her person rose protectively. Standing, the cold only fueled the panic that crossed her candid visage. It started as a seed of doubt, disbelief that her greatest nightmare had somehow managed to track her down across the expanse of time and star map pit stops, but soon evolved into genuine horror. Tanned features dropped their composure, aghast in place of the usual glamoured politeness, and it made Zeno's jackal-like sneer all the more horrendous. Heeled steps stumbled over themselves, backing her into the corner, back against the wall while her head simply shook.
This would all go away if she didn't dare believe he was real. Wouldn't it?
"No, no, no. No, you're not fucking here... You can't be here!" Zeno was closing the gap, and the Fae didn't have any inkling as to what this monstrosity was here for. His human face didn't hide the true beast from the fiery femme, nor did it somehow rid her of the emotion scarring he had caused in the past. Many things scared the Fae, including the future and the way she drifted aimlessly through life, to gunshots late at night and how they could be directed at her back - but Zeno was the number one fear she had never outgrown, and the need to escape was so strong that Fortune practically lunged away from her desk to get into the office down the hall. Heels clacking loudly, she didn't stop to knock nor bother to be quiet, belting out her own frightened screams as she was pursued, and practically ripped the handle off the mahogany door to get inside.
Not that a simple wooden barrier would keep Zeno Ralin at bay. Not when he had smelled blood in the water. Not when Fortune was the main course.
"HELP! SOMEONE?! F-Fucking help me!" Fortune scrambled to find things to barricade the portal, but knew it was too late. All she could do was fall onto her hands and knees and wedge herself under the massive oak desk her employer was meant to sit at. There was no one here, and there was no one willing to help otherwise. Without a lifeline to call, Fortune Vereaux was practically offered up on a platter for the psycho in the tailored slacks. Even huddled in a miserable lump, she was bombarded by the cold of his aura, and she could easily say the feeling was what she always thought drowning to be. Fortune didn't dare breath.
Not necessarily convinced it was the position she found herself in that was the problem, Fortune considered that possibly the location was at fault. Something about sterile white hallways made her uneasy. Maybe having spent much of her earlier years crawling through the graffiti plastered urban jungles of heavy metropolitan areas had brought about a sense of appreciation for color. Arcadia was pure and unfettered by canvas favorites the Fae had grown attached to, and if she could relate her experience at that lone isle desk, it was to that of her time back in the far reaches of the veil. It wasn't where she wanted to be. Away from any obligations pushed her way by the real world, there was a bed with her name on it. Done up in decadent fashion, with 500 count Egyptian cotton sheets and some sleazy vixen who liked hand cuffs and small talk. Fortune didn't kid herself into thinking this was waiting in the near future, or even in a future she could reasonably obtain, but it was one the buxom beauty could picture, and inevitably, cling to. This daydream waited patiently and didn't shy away when the worst case scenario came to pass; one could hope it wasn't too farfetched. She didn't actually have a backup fantasy readily available to replace the current one if it didn't pan out.
She may have napped on the desk. Maybe.
However long the cool surface of her desk had been a pillow, Fortune savored the experience. There was a sort of pine scent to the clear varnish, likely as old as the desk itself, but it wafted like it was new to the Fae. The smell reminded her of times when she would scour the treeline with brighter eyes and a keener motive. Reminded her of place she had once considered home, before the drifting and the falling out. There were places elsewhere that no one she met could relate to visiting, but somehow had opinions on. It was like everyone had a case of social deja vu, and they could recall what was mentioned but had no fucking idea what they were saying. It was the nod and agree treatment. A sure sign you didn't actually have friends. Not that this was anything new to Fortune, but she often caught herself asking them questions about themselves without the act being reciprocated. Sighing, stretching, a collection of slender limbs all seemed to move in unison as the creature removed her features from her workspace.
Had the Fae not found herself resting against the high back of her chair, she may not have seen Zeno exit the elevator. Had Fortune been a more intelligent woman, she would have fled as the flurry of cold rushed her way, crossing her skin to leave goose flesh in it's wake. The winter he brought as a platform made her instinctively stiffen, her hands moving to brush along her exposed flesh while the rest of her person rose protectively. Standing, the cold only fueled the panic that crossed her candid visage. It started as a seed of doubt, disbelief that her greatest nightmare had somehow managed to track her down across the expanse of time and star map pit stops, but soon evolved into genuine horror. Tanned features dropped their composure, aghast in place of the usual glamoured politeness, and it made Zeno's jackal-like sneer all the more horrendous. Heeled steps stumbled over themselves, backing her into the corner, back against the wall while her head simply shook.
This would all go away if she didn't dare believe he was real. Wouldn't it?
"No, no, no. No, you're not fucking here... You can't be here!" Zeno was closing the gap, and the Fae didn't have any inkling as to what this monstrosity was here for. His human face didn't hide the true beast from the fiery femme, nor did it somehow rid her of the emotion scarring he had caused in the past. Many things scared the Fae, including the future and the way she drifted aimlessly through life, to gunshots late at night and how they could be directed at her back - but Zeno was the number one fear she had never outgrown, and the need to escape was so strong that Fortune practically lunged away from her desk to get into the office down the hall. Heels clacking loudly, she didn't stop to knock nor bother to be quiet, belting out her own frightened screams as she was pursued, and practically ripped the handle off the mahogany door to get inside.
Not that a simple wooden barrier would keep Zeno Ralin at bay. Not when he had smelled blood in the water. Not when Fortune was the main course.
"HELP! SOMEONE?! F-Fucking help me!" Fortune scrambled to find things to barricade the portal, but knew it was too late. All she could do was fall onto her hands and knees and wedge herself under the massive oak desk her employer was meant to sit at. There was no one here, and there was no one willing to help otherwise. Without a lifeline to call, Fortune Vereaux was practically offered up on a platter for the psycho in the tailored slacks. Even huddled in a miserable lump, she was bombarded by the cold of his aura, and she could easily say the feeling was what she always thought drowning to be. Fortune didn't dare breath.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 11-14-2014, 11:47 AM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 11-14-2014, 12:25 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 11-14-2014, 12:27 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 11-14-2014, 07:44 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 11-25-2014, 03:38 AM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 12-18-2014, 09:55 AM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Ghostly - 02-18-2015, 04:41 AM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 11-14-2014, 12:25 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 11-14-2014, 12:26 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 11-14-2014, 12:28 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 11-16-2014, 07:33 PM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 12-15-2014, 12:36 AM
Back In Black [Closed] - by Kat - 01-15-2015, 02:00 AM