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[img]http://i.imgur.com/LOT8Zz9.gif[/img][sup][sup][h2]d a n n y  s t o n e m.[/h2][/sup][/sup][sup][color=000000]here we are. you're pins, i'm needles. . . lets play. . .[/color][/sup][/center][hr]

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[indent][color=e5e5e5][i]A[/i]lexia would never know it, but when she left, when destinations called to her spirit, she always ran. 

Danny sometimes believed she could fly, if she ran fast enough, if she pounded into the earth with all the might her body would allow, if her feet and falls could carry her yonder - out of his reach. He sometimes thinks she can cross the ways of the Hopeless, all she had to do was run, never look at back.

Leave him behind.

Danny would be the first to confess that he could not allow that to happen, what memoirs from his childhood that were not deluded in sheets of rain and grey terror were bright, broken blues of steelish sin, the sort that was crippled and worn but shone all the more beautiful in their woe. He still tasted her on his tongue, her mouth was of ash and sweetness, a taste he could not decipher no matter how often he had slipped within her. Her lips were chapped, she picked at them with her teeth, he could pick up the remains of clove and black on those teeth, and the drug had amplified all of that. His senses were in a whorl of want and need, his body thrumming alive in music, the rhythm of hunger and chords of promise that terribly fixated his heart in delusion. Sweat beaded on his neck, the slope of his jaw, made the ink crawling over his torso and body slick and alluring when he spun, grabbed a woman to his flank swaying in lace and skin and gnashed teeth and mouth onto hers and dragged her off into the darkest corners, hidden by black and walls and bodies, her laughter pitched, her cries ecstatic when Danny's bestial love making roared into a symphony of aggression. He didn't even bother with the luxuries and premise of being gentle or even coaxing, she was swept into the same euphoria as he was, and those eyes of drowned emeralds were blue instead, her black hair was shades lighter - rosewood. And when he grunted, sputtered out a name, and she clawed into his still clothed shoulders, he saw a swinging braid, a thin back draped in a jacket leaving him behind.

His leash was lax, often relaxed long enough to allow her freedom, to run a certain length until he would snap it back, let it grow taut in his hands, burning his flesh and he'd spin her back with pills, with promises all laden out in her fixation and want, the drugs he had to use to keep her near. Danny didn't love her, Danny didn't love anything. He was possessive man, he had a possessive nature, he was a dark Prince crowned in thorns, from neck to feet, laced thick into the deadened vines bedecked with ebony talons. He left the girl, adjusted his clothing and deposited a baggie full of promises at her quivering body and returned his attention back into the crowd continuing to sway, all lost, prisoners to the song and music. Danny's eyes of quaking black lifted then, spun into harsh clarity. He had attended Passion on various occasions, he had seen Wither play, he had seen that vocalist up there - strumming, belting his voice out, calling to them; to her - often dip into the office where he knew Yumi was always waiting. He had heard the rumours, but the only testimony provided was his happenstance speculation, and he could hardly blame the man! In The Badlands, you needed something - someone - to hold onto, to keep you tethered, wanted, needed. Alexia was that for him.

[i]But.[/i]

He had seen the way she had looked at him, and never had an expression been graced to his perspective, never had he viewed those lips parted in mute wonder, her eyes akin to voids of emotional awe - as if she had been hearing music performed for the first time ever. There was light in those eyes, peering through the cracks, like dapples of moonlight through the clouds clogged with rain and storm. As if he had all the answers, and a part of Danny had feared she would have agreed to his offer to meet them. What would he have done if Alexia had gone to him?

He wasn't sure.

Danny blamed [i]him[/i] tonight, the melody was ripping him apart, shredding the remains of his soul, permitting him to undergo these conceptions erupting and blooming across his mind with the provided clarity that threatened to propel him asunder; rent, spent, and raw. Haunting crescendos fled away into his being, forcing him into a mania, a frenzy of elation as customers approached him with shuddering limbs, palms thrust outwards, fists clenched around bills and more bills, some of them pocketed with coin. Danny's gestures were quick, efficient, all fronts and impressions of the business man despite the frantic glimmer in his eyes, the constant twitch in his shoulder, or the pout of his lip tucked beneath bone, gnawed on till freshly pink and skinned. This was all done on repetition and practice, Danny dealt daily, he proffered all he kept shoved and cramped in his pockets every hour of his woeful eternity and then some. He peddled dreams and promises in the shifting forms of powder, liquids, pills, he peddled his own flesh to those who found his body decorative and appealing. In the Northern District, creatures like Danny swathed in ink and dejected in looks and expressions were beautiful and horrifying, tempting with their frail souls.

His pockets were heavy with cash by the end of the set, and whilst he blamed the boys of Wither, he also cheered for their professionalism and assistance to his daily supply and demand. Danny had everything imaginable, there was nothing he didn't sell, he would sell his own soul if it was not already marred with a tattered price tag - slashed at a discount for all the wear and tear in his restless spirit. His smile widened at that, a terrifying simper befitting to the Cheshire nickname that very look carved into his reputation. Then a hand clapped over his shoulder, a pressure of familiarity given from the clasp of a would-be stranger. His skin prickled, shuddering beneath the hot breath against the shell of his ear, he was taller than this man, but his nature was defined not in height - in that, he could have been leagues taller than Danny. 

	[color=#857D6E]"So, he needs my services, eh."[/color] He slung his arm over another woman, her face enraptured, but not by Danny's weight, but by the presence of another man as he departed from them.
	[color=ffffff]"That's Cadian,"[/color] she breathed, clutching her hands, as if in prayer, fingers over one another in her fumbling daze. Black leather, shaggy hair, molten eyes. Danny canted his head to one side, if not for his knowledge that he was frolicking around with Yumi, he would've played after him. [i]Not my type,[/i] he thought with a chuckle, [i]but his name carries weight, that could be used.[/i]
	[color=#857D6E]"Do all you girls look at him like that?"[/color] He asked, brow raised, his lip thrust out in a petulant pout. Her face flushed, coming to rest her fingers over her bow shaped mouth. 
	[color=ffffff]"Well, uhm. He's kind of like... A Rockstar."[/color]
	[color=#857D6E]"Yeah, all stars fall and fade you know. They don't last long, not in The Badlands."[/color]

He sauntered up to the bar at that, his stride unhurried, he had been sought out, a commonality, but slightly enhanced by the man who had come to him. [color=#857D6E]"Cadian, you obviously know me."[/color] Danny began, selecting a stool next to him, his elbows resting back onto the bar, body facing towards the room swaying to a different tune, almost relaxed now that Cadian wasn't plucking them into a frenzy of lust. He craned his neck back enough, casting a look over at Yumi stationed behind the bar, his lash fluttering in a wink and a mock kiss before he slid his gaze to the right, black fringe obscuring little of his view. [color=#857D6E]"So you know what I'm all about. But what would a Rockstar like you, want from a simple dealer like me, eh? Something to amplify your performance,"[/color] his lips curled at that, almost a leer of teasing intentions. [color=#857D6E]"Something to make you forget maybe."[/color] He leaned in closer, sliding across the bar.

	[color=#857D6E]"Or are you looking for a little bit of light and clarity in this horrible world. Something to make the dark... Not seem so dark anymore."[/color][/color][/indent]

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[img]http://i.imgur.com/XOwotxA.gif[/img][sup][sup][h2]a [i]l[/i] e x i a  f i t c h.[/h2][/sup][/sup][sup][color=000000]here we are. you want this? then come on...[/color][/sup][/center][hr]

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[indent][color=e5e5e5][i]T[/i]his kind of feels like drowning.

The church had been filled with the clashes of thunder and lightning both, furious, and then suffocated the cries of a woman swathed in pain, regret, and shame. No amount of pleading could see the storm elsewhere, and no amount of prayer or wishing would see the night to still and freeze, suspended in time. Alexia's lips parted around a swollen whimper, teeth impaling a crescent of bone into her shoulder that climbed up the slope of her neck beaded in sweat, her pants tumbling from her lips whilst hands tore at her skin - her soul quivering beneath a fracture shell. Her purchased goods were gnashed somewhere in her pocket, she wanted to reach into her jacket, take another, let the euphoria and numbing qualities to renew as the pain and violation became more profound and all the more real. Alexia's eyes widened, the dark walls of The Confessional pressing inward, warping into the faces of the angels and saints worshiped here, all mocking and their expressions sick and twisted, slick wood stained in her taint. She screamed, and a palm slapped over her swollen and bitten mouth silenced her cries, not that it would have done any good. The storm had increased in a terrifying tempo, crashing against the church, echoing across the halls and pews and snuffing out her denial and cries to make it stop.

Patrick was near relentless, his sounds were growls and snarls, harsh tones that resulted in bitten skin and a clawed spine. Alexia was just as physical, only her frantic marks were in her attempts to pry herself away from his lap. He clasped tighter, snarled within her ear to quit moving, and watched as she began to weep. Her tears only made him more desperate, her anguish fed him, sired the monster of sin his father tried to tame and kill for so many years. But, his early death saw his endeavors wasted, and Patrick was permitted to tend to his obsessions. He clamped his teeth over her shoulder once more, his body spent entirely and only then did he allow her depart. She fumbled backwards, falling, clothes tattered, her hands clutching for her jacket and bringing it flush against her marred skin as she panted, tears running and suddenly bolted from the Church. Patrick allowed her to run, he knew where she lived, it didn't matter. She was trapped in The Badlands, she was trapped in her own nightmare of flesh, his flesh. He laughed, a terrible sound of amusement until a timid voice spoke from outside The Confessional.

	[color=ffffff]"Uhm, Father..."[/color] One of the many orphans housed within the Church, all mousy brown hair, wide eyes and terrible clothes. She was trembling, her eyes averted from his state of undress, hands tearing at themselves. 
	[color=7b5858]"Fetch me new robes girls, then you may seek confession as well."[/color]
	[color=ffffff]"Yes, Father."[/color]

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That night saw Alexia collapsed in the street, weeping over and into her hands, the rain merciless as the cold sliced her down to the bone. She cried into the gutter, her loneliness and regret turning inward and impaling her heart, letting it bleed out onto the street with her screams that rivaled the thunder crashing over head. 

	[color=696969]"Don't touch my soul with your filthy hands!"[/color] She cried, her voice sputtering out in a careening wail of despair as she struggled to stand, her hands pulling tight on her jacket to shield her from the rain until she desperately dug into her pockets, procuring pills - totaled to three - and slammed them past her lips with little ceremony or care.

[i]Make it go away.Makeitgoaway.MAKEITGOAWAY.[/i]

She ran further down the street, sprinting through rain puddles, her entire body soaked and heavy, weighing her down, and she didn't care. She didn't stop to breathe or think, she skid over corners, slid across sidewalks, shoved her way through alley ways where couples gathered and trash festered along side them. The pill were beginning their blessed spell, her quivering her body spent into nothing now, she was nothing, there was nothing. No pain, no shame, no regret. No rain.

The Eastern district was like all the rest, they all looked alike, she thought, ducking through a gap in the chain link fence and turned right down the adjacent alley. She lived in a loft around here, her floor reached by the stairwell with the ladder already pulled down for easy access. Her window, three stories high, suspended in the middle where a widow lived below and a couple lived above who committed adultery almost nightly on one another. It took a heaving effort to pull herself upwards, her pills numbing her fingers even until she came to her window, easily shunting it open with only a soft grunt to vocalize her frustration until she slammed it closed behind her, the pane shuddering. The storm had quieted, briefly, and was almost unnervingly quiet here in the walls of her place. A sanctuary of nicotine stained walls, every bit of this hers, her possessions, her [i]home.[/i]

But, there was no time to admire the little things, the objects that spoke to Alexia, she shredded her clothing, allowing them to pool at the window, her energy suddenly crumbling, the secondary stages of her intakes for the night causing the edges of her vision to blacken and blur, shadows teasing the borders of her consciousness. There were scratches and claw marks carried over her backside, down her thighs, there were impressions of teeth on her shoulder, her breast, her neck, her hair was erratic and damp and her nail beds were bloody. 

And yet, before her, she saw molten eyes and arms spread wide, [i]he[/i] had followed her to her place of peace. 

	[color=696969]"How did you know?"[/color] She breathed, the hallucination refusing to answer, despite her desperate inquiry, her mind and heart vulnerable. She threw her jacket over her shoulders, stepping forward, [i]almost there. . .[/i]

And Alexia collapsed onto her floor, naked, bruised and afraid. 
And alone.[/color][/indent][hr]
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