Elle
In the office room, you could hear a record playing. Scratchy, repetative, and yet you almost needed to swing your shoulders to it. Elle had her feet on her desk, black pumps swinging to the music. Her platinum hair was wrapped up neatly, as her mouth vigorously devoured the young woman that lay across her lap. Lifting her head up, the main artery leaks onto her hands, inhaling a deep breath. She pushes her head to face the cieling, letting it drip down her chin, her neck, and onto her blue collared button down.
The girl had gone limp by now, nearly drained.
"I feel absolutely lovely," Elle smiles, legs swinging down, pushing the girl off of her. The body hits the floor with a thump, while Elle leans back in her chair, wiggling her hips to the music that was playing.
"Miss Woodson?" A man peaks his head into the office. "Are you finished with your lunch?"
"I am indeed, Farren. It was exquisite!" she giggles, clearly a bit over taken by the live feeding.
"Would you still like to continue with your meetings for today?"
"Of course! Why not?"
"You're a bit... messy." By now, Farren had fully stepped into the room, picking the body up from the floor.
"I'll clean myself up, and we will presume," Elle says, slamming her hands down on the desk.
Once Farren exits, Elle rolls her eyes. "Priorities, priorities," she mumbles to herself, standing up to change the record. There was nothing quite the same as records, Elle felt. Music felt so much more intimate coming from a vinyl.
A new song begins, and while she opens a side door of the office she begins to redress, removing the stained blue top. She throws it into a pile of shirts from that week, ruined all the same. They were beginning to smell like dead corpses, which reminded her to tell Farren they needed to be cleaned. She puts on a satin pink one in exchange, but leaves the blood on her face. She wanted to continue to enjoy that feeling. Mmm, the heartbeat on her lips, the flow between her teeth, so warm! She sways, humming to the record.
A knock comes at the door and she sighs, "Who is it?"
Ingrid
Ingrid sat in her family's shop, doing some school work. She attended the local community college, as her mother had wished, but it was still a pain to keep up with. Nothing in school really appealed to her, and she always felt like she was changing majors. But yet, there was nothing more normal for a girl her age than to go to school and get a degree. Most of the girls she had gone to high school with had done the same thing.
The shop wasn't ever very busy, and usually anyone who walked through the door wasn't looking for what was on the shelves. Ingrid had considered, time and time again, to close the shop all together, send a message to the wolves, tell them she wasn't up for all they demanded. But something in her told her it would be wrong, especially with the war coming. They would really need Ingrid's help at some points, she knew this. She just had to be stern, she could not be too involved.
The bell rang through the store, smell of the street sweeping through the thick smell of incense and candles that plagued the store. A refreshing break for Ingrid, really. The sound meant someone had come into the store.
She looked towards the door, waiting to see that someone.
In the office room, you could hear a record playing. Scratchy, repetative, and yet you almost needed to swing your shoulders to it. Elle had her feet on her desk, black pumps swinging to the music. Her platinum hair was wrapped up neatly, as her mouth vigorously devoured the young woman that lay across her lap. Lifting her head up, the main artery leaks onto her hands, inhaling a deep breath. She pushes her head to face the cieling, letting it drip down her chin, her neck, and onto her blue collared button down.
The girl had gone limp by now, nearly drained.
"I feel absolutely lovely," Elle smiles, legs swinging down, pushing the girl off of her. The body hits the floor with a thump, while Elle leans back in her chair, wiggling her hips to the music that was playing.
"Miss Woodson?" A man peaks his head into the office. "Are you finished with your lunch?"
"I am indeed, Farren. It was exquisite!" she giggles, clearly a bit over taken by the live feeding.
"Would you still like to continue with your meetings for today?"
"Of course! Why not?"
"You're a bit... messy." By now, Farren had fully stepped into the room, picking the body up from the floor.
"I'll clean myself up, and we will presume," Elle says, slamming her hands down on the desk.
Once Farren exits, Elle rolls her eyes. "Priorities, priorities," she mumbles to herself, standing up to change the record. There was nothing quite the same as records, Elle felt. Music felt so much more intimate coming from a vinyl.
A new song begins, and while she opens a side door of the office she begins to redress, removing the stained blue top. She throws it into a pile of shirts from that week, ruined all the same. They were beginning to smell like dead corpses, which reminded her to tell Farren they needed to be cleaned. She puts on a satin pink one in exchange, but leaves the blood on her face. She wanted to continue to enjoy that feeling. Mmm, the heartbeat on her lips, the flow between her teeth, so warm! She sways, humming to the record.
A knock comes at the door and she sighs, "Who is it?"
Ingrid
Ingrid sat in her family's shop, doing some school work. She attended the local community college, as her mother had wished, but it was still a pain to keep up with. Nothing in school really appealed to her, and she always felt like she was changing majors. But yet, there was nothing more normal for a girl her age than to go to school and get a degree. Most of the girls she had gone to high school with had done the same thing.
The shop wasn't ever very busy, and usually anyone who walked through the door wasn't looking for what was on the shelves. Ingrid had considered, time and time again, to close the shop all together, send a message to the wolves, tell them she wasn't up for all they demanded. But something in her told her it would be wrong, especially with the war coming. They would really need Ingrid's help at some points, she knew this. She just had to be stern, she could not be too involved.
The bell rang through the store, smell of the street sweeping through the thick smell of incense and candles that plagued the store. A refreshing break for Ingrid, really. The sound meant someone had come into the store.
She looked towards the door, waiting to see that someone.
