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I can see that it will be, I have an idea of how I want my post to go, but Danny and Alexia tend to do their own thing. But I do know I want to build up to the party, considering it's our third encounter, or shall we move it back, allow some time to span between this night, and have one more night at Passion randomly occur that spurs some frantic emotion. I imagine, with Cadian hoping she'll return, and then Alexia not show up for a couple of nights, until she finally does, will be fun to do. Then we can pan to the party from there, Halloween in The Badlands, haha. And you can introduce your secondary character, and I'll have my hands full with Danny, Alexia, and Julian making his appearance with another character concept following him. The party is going to be a great arc.

Well, from what I gathered when my father called me, he said that the paramedics had hooked this machine up to her and didn't see any cardiac issues or nothing. But they cannot rule it out without more tests and blood work. I could hear her in the background in pain, so I'm not sure what all happened. That is mildly comforting, I feel like heart attacks happen quite often and people bounce back from them. But, my grandfather - it pains me to this day - passed away from a heart attack about three-four years ago. So, I think it spurred my family in a panic overdrive. I'm keeping my hopes up and entirely optimistic, because that's all I can really do at this moment.

edit.
An update, she just got home a little while ago, it wasn't her heart, but they don't really know what it was either. So I'm going to go see her tonight when I'm available. Hopefully it's just a one time kind of event..
@ayzrules - Ooh, this will be an interesting one to work on. I also realize I don't have a listed size for my role play banner defaults, hah. No worries though. Music does actually help, since I usually work with it, and assists in gathering the ambiance of the story. I can figure I'll get started on this somewhere in the middle of this week and work on it from there.

On regard to character banners, this entirely depends on how you want the banner to look and the general feel for the role play it's related to. I have a lot of stock images, textures and brushes on hand that I use on the banners to make it coincide with the genre of the story. Generally, from my past projects, I use the image of the character - whichever if preferred - and a background image I select from my own stock. If you have a background image you'd like to be used, I would prefer you send me that then, along with whatever photo you'd wanted for the character representation.

@The Kraken - I am about 80% finished with your set, just working on final touches to the signature and getting the avatar put together. Just an update to let you know I'm still on it.

- rockette.
Wonderful as always! I wanted to sink my teeth into more, I want to know what's happening! Poor Alexia, you won't get to hear your Cadian play tonight, but we'll make up for it.

I'll tell you, I've had one hell of a weekend. I lost three employees, like, fuck me. So that has been going on, then on this glorious Monday - bloody freakin' of course - I get a call that everyone dreads. My mother had a potential heart attack, so that has me on nerves, my brother has been blowing my phone up with text messages all morning and his fiance much the same because they got into a fight over it.

There's not enough coffee in the world right now.
ohmylord.
I'm inclined to work on a sheet for Maman, sort of a tying the pieces of my vampiric mass of characters together in a debut. During these events, Maharet would have been in her "psychosis". These ladies are canon for me I swear, what can ya' do.
Jack Black is just.. Jack Black. Like everything he says and does is just: "Yeah, that's him." Heh, anyways.

I need to catch up on my music, but lately I've been listening to Halsey again, her song Gasoline inspired parts of Collide, so it might be worth the listen.

And thank you my friend, it feels good to be back, though I never really left. But still, life happens and sometimes time has to be taken away from some of the things you love and enjoy.
@Kingfisher - If this is a prequel, then I'd be inclined to play Maman this arc, rather than Maharet. It'd be a nice build up to her death that spurred the initial rediscovery of Maharet during the first play through. I wish I had the luxury of free time though to properly consider it and dedicate myself. We'll see how my schedule pans out, but I won't promise anything.
@The Kraken - Wonderful, I'll start this within the week and see where it goes! Thank you much.
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d a n n y s t o n e m.
mistook their nods for an approval. just ignore the smoke and smile





Money was money - there was no unique formula to its design, purpose, or intended exchange.

So, why did Danny refuse to touch this. Unseeing black, un-witnessing gazes fled in his perspective, the entire transaction given on silences and held tongues, as if the whiskey tainted breath had been enough to finalize the induction of coin and drugs. Danny did not object, simply gave over the goods and allowed the folded bill to rest there in a mocking poise, the bold script of the currency suddenly searing his ebon oculi. He left as soon as he came, he left an impression of mystery, allure, and raw emotion that no man could dare taint or hope to snuff out, though his bar stool was vacated and left alone for any patron, there was none who approached and Danny was left in the ambiance of his very soul. The Rockstar, Cadian, the man who had stolen Alexia's eyes and robbed Yumi's heart, who sired lust and ruin and chaos. The remnants of his voice trickled into ears and hearts, pooled deep within those body writhing against one another.

Danny slapped his palm against the bar top, his slick, ink swaddled digits scrapping wood and waterlogged splinters, driving the crisp folds of the bill into his awaiting embrace. Yumi started, eyes tearing away from the shadows that welcomed Cadian home, fixating Danny with an eye of perplexity and caution. He was a spirit untamed and unmatched, unrivaled in his domain in similar bearings as her lover, there were Princes of different realms, of kingdoms housed on blackened spirits and wanton whims. One bedecked in thorns, the other wrought with shadows and darkness. The drug peddler of ebonette tresses and an equally soot-coloured heart ground bone down onto bone, gums aching, lips peeled back and the wrath of something in a maddened whorl inside his spirit and soul. He couldn't place the emotion or label the madness of it, his heart was wrought with some degree of insanity, and it was tied in dual threads of scarlet to both Alexia - his Alexia, he amends - and Cadian, the Rockstar who offered time and company. With a final glimpse towards Yumi, her figure already beginning to crawl away, seeking after him, her lover, her cruel torturer of hearts and warmth, Danny shoved away from the bar.

He felt the sharp corners impale into the soft flesh of his palm when he left Passion behind him, the rain both comforting, constant and terrifying in the sheer deluge. The streets were beginning to flood, trash gathered in the gutters, the storm drains alive with flush water and sounds pooling into the concrete mouths, gaped and built wide. Danny shrugged his coat on, every ridge of his bones gone cold and like steel, the heavy fabric of his clothing slick to his skin marked with ink and scars, nails and sometimes love bites. Tonight would be no different, his body was a canvas, his flesh bore evidence of time, ruin, and pain and he liked it that way. And the night was from over, with many of his customers lost to the wiles of his wares, Danny's hours had only just begun, his endeavors never ended, his time was never free and very little was afforded to luxury, not when his clientele were eagerly awaiting with baited claws and fangs, each demanding pounds of flesh and pounds of his soul.

Danny's eyes were blank when he felt the vibration of his mobile thrum and shudder and his grasp, his pocket aglow before he brought the device to his attention, barely registering the identification of his caller, and answered with a silk laced purr.

"Hello, love. . .."


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a l e x i a f i t c h.
vanishing like a cyan sunday. disappear. . . disappear.





Morning came with retribution, and it came with vengeance and lack of mercy. The Badlands rose with foggy grey and feathering black, pooling and pulling from the dregs of stagnant rain and weathered trash, there was sunlight straining through smog and billowing clouds. All mornings came and went just as this, with silvery hues and faded golds, all surrounded in black and grey; monochromatic depression and woe. And even if the denizens of these terrible alley ways and dreaded shadows were lost, dead, or sopped in their pain, the days still came, the sun still struggled, and the city still held both chain and lock on their body; from crown to feet.

The previous hours saw a hysterical woman, tears staining her skin and bites woven across her shoulders and down her ribs, nails having dug into her hips and scoured down, and down.

And D O W N.

"Hah..." Alexia's chest rose, fell, her exhales sputtering from chapped lips, dried flesh coloured both red like rubies and bruised like violets. Her mind was a fog, much like the outside, The Badlands a reflection of everything, not just within her, but within everyone. Her blue eyes panned down, her body in a crumpled disarray, limbs strung about in impossible angles, cramped from such a prolonged position without any relief. She slowly unwound her arms from being curled against her spine, shoulders and joints severely knotted and thrust back, hips angled, legs twisted, each shift of muscle painfully executed with a groan of lapsed exhaustion. The descent of the high was always the worst, leaving your head with remnants of cotton and feathers and your mouth tasting like a withered out bonfire and tainted with ash. Her tongue felt heavy, thick and utterly useless against her gritted teeth, her quivering body struggling like a frail lamb at birth; knees rocking against one another, the bone almost brittle and her skin marred with discolouration. Alexia ran a swift diagnosis with her palms, mapping out every sliver of bite, cut, and blossom of a bruise, the geography of her figure obviously abused and marred by someone.

Her countenance paled further, the canter of recollection void from her dreary consciousness, for there was nothing to pin or mend, nothing to provide evidence to what exactly had occurred the night before. Alexia could only conjur theories of being mugged, the bruises and cuts clarifying her assault, but the crescent slivers of some bygone mouth was the most alarming, centred around her slender neck, shoulders and one perched at the slope of her breast. These were not just marks, but brands, possessive, cruel, deliberate in every impale and peel of her flesh to leave a weeping memory. Who ever left these impressions, wanted her to remember, wanted her to look in the mirror and feel their bite and desire in pain reflective memorial. Alexia desperately cinched her jacket tight on her body, attempting to cloak the blemishes, to sort through the void left within her memory, when suddenly she heard the rattle of her foyer door, the telltale jangle of keys and a sing song voice purring from beyond the dark wood.

"Oh Alex, wake up love! It's nearly past noon."
"Uhm, shit, Danny - hold on!" She cried, immediately retreating to the adjacent washroom, not that Danny had not seen her body before, but memory did serve an uncanny swell of rage from her past when former clientele had become too aggressive, leaving her battered and bruised and wadded up currency stuffed into her undergarments. She quickly turned the tabs of her shower, creating a ruckus of noise, throwing her jacket at her feet and vaulting under the pressure of the spray with bone chilling water making her yelp and squeak before the heat transferred over, working to relieve her tension from her sleeping prone and knotted on the floor.

"Uh, 'kay." Danny hollered, kicking her door closed to his boot heel and eyed the discarded clothing dotted in mud and filth, last night's wardrobe obviously ruined by the terrible state of care and lack of wash. Danny's smile faltered and entered the loft further, letting the contents of coffee and baked good thump onto the small dining table shoved near her open kitchenette that spilled into the living quarters and foyer. "Rough night?" He inquired, keeping his voice elevated to carry over the roar of the shower.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess. I don't really remember much honestly, not even sure how I got home." Her rejoining laughter was uneasy, wavering just so in pitch, probably unheeded by some, but Danny could hear it just the same.
"Your clothes are all over the place, but Daddy downstairs said he didn't see you come in. Crawl through the window again?"
"Probably did." A quick shift of her body, hair slick down her spine, suds pooling at her weary ankles. "Wouldn't be the first time." Alexia drawled.

"Well, you make Daddy worried and -"
"I wish you wouldn't call him that, it's kind of weird."
"He's a client Alex, gotta' do what the man wants." Danny teased, helping himself to lounge across her low, ebony furniture, the two-cushion love seat showing obvious signs of wear, but still loyally intact from all the sins it had endured.

"Gross." She snorted, her scoff echoing from the curtains until she tilted her face up into the spray, effectively ignoring any retort Danny would've lashed back at her. Not that she could contain any reservations about his choice of occupations, she was a client of his most preferred stock, but Alexia sometimes wondered why he remained in the game of cash and flesh when she had made the choice to retire from the debauchery, but, she lacked the courage to inquire to Danny's reasoning and intentions. Alexia slowly twisted the knobs into their appropriate settings, cutting off her water with a groaning echo vibrating beyond the wall, the sound carrying through the building just as it did for everyone. Used to the disruption, she snagged a towel around her middle, tucking one end into the other and snatched another to shuffle and pat through her tresses and hoped most of her wounds were covered.

Danny canted his head to one side, arms slung over the back of the couch, his stature akin to a feline in a perfect lounge and rest. Elongated, elegant, and very much the predator in every glean of his ebony eyes and tresses slicing into his perspective. Alexia shuddered under that gaze and carefully adverted the couch, all too aware of Danny's methods.

"Thanks for the coffee," she chirped. "Oh and food. Thank god, I'm starved."
"You sure you don't remember what happened last night?" Danny muttered, his whisper severe, his eyes equally penetrating and raking down her backside where heat and soap coiled and taunted him.
"I only remember leaving Passion." Alexia whispered, attempting to ignore the flash of weeping angels suddenly in her mind. "And then I woke up on my floor." She turned on her heel, leaning back against her table and nibbled on the fluffed edge of a scone. Danny hummed his consent, swiveling his gaze long ways, peering through his lashes before he hauled himself up, suddenly vaulting over the couch with a shout.

"Well then we should call it a damn good night, and I guess we need to hurry and get you dressed for this night! No need to worry about the past now!" Alexia's brow furrowed, glancing at the digital neon of her clock angled on her counter and pursed her lips against the sweetened quick bread before following after her suddenly exuberant drug dealer.
"Uh, tonight? Why?" She found Danny foraging through her wardrobe, tossing fabrics of ebony, sequin silvers, daring reds and cool blues falling into pools of varying fabric on her low-set mattress fixated on loading planks of wood.
"What? For Passion of course, Wither is playing again tonight, and seeing how you like their music..." Danny muttered, holding out a silver blouse, the thin straps and slivers of fabric sheer enough to be seen through. Alexia's expression was a colourful mixture, fixated between embarrassment and heat, wonder and desire bubbling within the pit of her stomach, sloshing low to almost make her knees buckle at the sweeping vocals and molten eyes peering into the depths of her being.

"I - I don't know, Danny. I'm kind of feeling.. Like shit."
"You look it too, but we'll take care of that." He hoisted a daring pair of ebonette shorts, the fabric cut short enough to leave a rather cheeky impression and paired them with fishnets hosing and her traditional boots, similar to his in design. Alexia clutched the clothing to her breast, twisting the threads through her bruised gestures.
"I don't want to go out, Danny. I don't have a reason, I got my shares and -"
"Then be my date for fuck's sake and quit bitching, I got invited backstage, I'll look like a twit by myself."
"I told you I don't want to meet -"
"I don't care, I just need you to be my arm candy for an hour and then you can run your ass back here and dope your ass away." He bit out, his growl sputtering through his lips, the narrow of his glare harsh and demanding, his commands unable to be thwarted by her stubborn refusal no matter how hard she tried. Alexia's eyes though burned, a terrible blue that was nothing comparable to her eternally broken gaze, the glower crossing through her expression impressive enough to make Danny shiver and smirk, his serpentine heart rising from the coil to challenge her sudden daring.

"Fine, I'll get fucking dressed and go with you, but one hour. Then I'm gone."

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Of course, an hour under Danny Stonem's valuation could be anything, a number of things, and definitely not the promised time. Alexia knotted her charms and thin chains betwixt her fingers, feeling exposed in the selective clothing Danny had persuaded her to don for that night. The rain had ceased, for barely a moment, long enough for them to seek refuge within the thrumming walls of Passion and she felt conscious of the swiveling eyes and gaping smiled. Alexia had dabbed and blotted cosmetics over her bruises, the scrapes typical of any vagabond in The Badlands, and unable to be ignored, but the rest had been a challenge for the sake of avoiding disputes with her - she shuddered - date for the night. Danny was a sight in his attire, slashed ebon, the sleeves gone this time, revealing the swirling ink up to his thin shoulders and attracting admiring glimpses where recognition bloomed. He left an impression to wherever he wondered, Alexia thought, crossing her bare arms and wishing for the security of her beloved jacket.

"Cool," Danny breathed, spreading his arms out wide, waving eagerly to some. "Looks like I'll make quite a killing tonight. The music makes them all like animals, you should've have seen them last night."
"I saw some of it," she whispered, glancing to the stage where shadows loomed, no evidence of the infamous band quite yet.
"Yeah but now you need to be apart of it, Alex." Danny chuckled, his breath close on her thrice-pierced ear, the shell red on her teeth, the bite of his voice purring closer when he planted his mouth on her neck. Fire and warmth pinged within her body, stirring a quiver and a sigh until Danny held out his palm, pills proffered, gleaming in promise and lies. Her fingers trembled, snatching up two, the rest left for his consumption as the music began, the vibrating tempo spearing Alexia down to her heart, the organ flagging behind, unable to keep up. She swallowed, he swallowed. They shared a kiss, her teeth on his lip, his hands in her hair before both swept out onto the dance floor, waiting and willing for the euphoria to come as another round of The Badlands nightmares begun.


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