░ ☽ MONSTERS ☠ ↷ in the ✴ n i g h t

[unnamed vermin]

____________________________
WHY ARE YOU OUT AT THIS TIME?
WHY ARE YOU OUT AT THIS TIME?
WHY ARE YOU OUT AT THIS TIME?


ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ɪ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅxxxxxxx✖✖xxxx ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ
xxxxxx⇜ ǝ ɹ ɐxx ǝ ɹ ǝ ɥ ʇxx ʇ ɐ ɥ ʇ ⇤
post layout by apo-chan
██ xxＭ - ＭＯＮＳＴＥＲＳ xx۩

ａｔ xxxｎｉｇｈｔ . . .

A private roleplay between unnamed vermin and pandas are whoa.

INFO: It's year 1980 in the bustling city of Westden, England! Compact
disks have dawned on humanity, youth are distracted with new music, big hair,
Space Invaders, and cassette recorders, and all seems fairly typical in our "quaint"
little city. But no one seems to notice what is just churning below the surface
of Westden's average exterior:

The city is run by vampires.

Throughout the years, the demons have weaved their
way deep into the city's roots, and many of them are members
of the city counsel — The mayor himself is the coven's leader.
The corrupt cops, though most are mere mortals, have formed an
alliance with the coven, keeping their secrets hush-hush and away
from citizens' ears and eyes. Sometimes, though, there are tasks
that the coven needs completed that the police can't do within
their flexible jurisdiction. A ring of thugs and gangmembers have
been formed under this reign, agreeing to do the coven's bidding
for exchanges in favors. The whole city is running rampant
with frauds and crooked schemes.

Recent homicides have been blamed on gang activity, which
seems believable enough to most. But children and grown men
alike disappear day in and day out. In some areas, a curfew
has even been set to 'prevent' such atrocities.
Will the city ever know a night without fear?

[unnamed vermin]

CHARACTER INFO

Lief Atchison

P X R X O X F X I X L X E

T X H X E XX B X A X S X I X C XS


NAME: Leofrick Edan Atchison
ALIAS: “Lief”.
AGE: Two hundred and fourteen years.
SPECIES: SELF EXPLANITORY
EMPLOYMENT: Doesn’t have one. Is currently homeless.
APPEARANCE NOTES:When not slightly off-kilter due to intoxication or his slight limp, Lief stands at an average 6’2. He has a tattoo just below his collarbone that reads: “Ane chast arbor”, his family’s motto. Most of the time, he’s fairly impulsive, though whether or not that is due to his obvious reliance on drugs or simply his nature is often unclear. When the grime is smudged away from his face, blue eyes and sharp features become visible. Most of his dark hair is matted into dreads, while some still falls free in a tangle around his head. His limp is due to an injury that he endured before his vampirism on his left leg. Similarly on that side, his left eye is a glass prosthetic; one can’t easily tell the difference from his real and false eye, though, as both appear similar, and both still move effectively. Though not exactly healthy, he is built similarly to a malnourished fighting dog; lean in muscle, and not quite famished.


G X E X T X T X I X N X G X X D X E X E X P X E X R



PERSONALITY:Many that cross the homeless man assume that he is rather daft and slow. When he speaks something other than incoherent mutterings to himself, he seems to take quite some time to process other responses. He is impulsive, and can’t seem to stop himself from twitching and shifting anxiously. He doesn’t feed because he enjoys it, and often waits long until he absolutely has to before searching for a victim. He almost never kills his prey, though sometimes an occasional slip up occurs. Despite his mercy in that particular part of his life, though, he has come to terms with the fact that he’s a horrible person due to past experiences. Though he naturally has a slight lilt on his voice, he has learned how to mute it out of his speech when he does actually talk. Still relatively young for a vampire, there are still many things in the world of immortality that he hasn’t quite learned how to cope with.

SECRETS AND TALENTS

Vampire:Stink is a vampire; a ‘creature of the night’ that feasts on the wealth of the living. He tends to avoid his own kind whenever he can.
Drug Addict:Probably the most obvious of his ‘secrets’, Lief relies on mind-altering drugs to cope with his situation.
Dreamer:Though he’ll never admit it, somewhere in there he has ambitions of his own. He yearns most for a family of his own, though he tends to destroy all of the opportunities that fate presents him. His innate perception and love of literature makes him an innate writer, and he often keeps logs of his streams of consciousness which he mostly presents in form of 'song'.


WEAKNESSES AND FEARS

Familial bonding and Closeness:Because of his history with his own family, part of him feels like family or becoming close and trusting with another person is incredibly dangerous.
Isolation:Contrasting to the above, he yearns for company. He is most afraid and prone to his inner demons when he is alone.
Sobriety:Being sober is something he practically NEVER wants to happen, but he fears will inevitably have to. As a vampire, he can’t technically overdose, and his need for more and more worsens. However, the more and more he puts through his system, the more he adapts to its affects. What happens when mind-altering substances no longer do the job? How will he deal with all of these issues?




B X I X O X G X R X A X P X H X Y


Leofrick Atchison was born in Berwickshire (now Greenlaw) in 1712. His parents' names are unknown, as no proper documentation was administered. During the rise of Jacobitsm, his Father aligned himself with the Jacobites. They and other Jacobite supporters of the exiled Prince Charles were forced to abandon their homes to the English and those Scottish that supported the monarchy that was held in place by the English. Very quickly poor and without a home, the Atchison's traveled to Edinburgh to attempt to rebuild their lives. They were allowed to live in a barn on an Earl's property if they worked the land. Leofrick's Father tended to livestock, and Leofrick did as much as he could in the fields; when he wasn't there, he was on the streets, pick-pocketing and conning what he could in his worth. His mother was also often preoccupied working as often as she could, and his Father became an excessive alcoholic.

Leofrick's mother fell ill during a particularly grueling winter. She died within a time span of a few months. It was around this time that Leofrick sustained a wound to his leg, and was unable to work. Poor and cast out of the barn, he and his Father were next to contract the illness. His Father died first after a shorter span of time. Figuring that his time was due to come soon, Lief used whatever valuables they had left towards alcohol.

Leofrick contracted vampirism from a local coven leader that happened to be attending the tavern. Leofrick was invited into the coven where he spent most of his years aging into his prime, but becoming a vampire was not his choice. He left for reasons unknown, choosing instead to wander what had not yet been explored of the world. He returned to the United Kingdom, settling in Westden, England, where he was accepted by the city's dominant coven.

For one reason or another, he abandoned the wealth he had made up throughout the years and succumbed to the rot of the alleyways and waste; often, now, he even participates in streetfights or other cruel sports (often hosted by wealthier men to manipulate and abuse the homeless) for a bit of cash. He fears not his disability, for his limp proves to be a very slight disadvantage when faced with mortal opponents. He is most known to be seen on stage, where he vents his own written streams of consciousness to the crowds.

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION: He doesn’t like cramped spaces, and absolutely despises tea.

MY MASTER: deliriousinnovations

[unnamed vermin]

XXXXXXXthemeX;Xsitting at the barX;Xno oneX;Xin my head

The quivering bass of a loud stage bar blared on, reaching well outside the concrete walls of its graffiti-ridden exterior. The Scorpion was a popular hangout for youth and oldies alike, as it seemed to offer the best of what anyone that came here was craving: liquor and music. Despite the haze of cigarette smoke that seemed to perpetually fog the interior, the place was in pretty good condition. The tables were polished (despite the scratches), the liquor was pretty spot on, and the food was decent. Cheap, but decent; most people didn’t come for the food, anyways.

At the head of all the scattered tables was a small span of space for dancing or crowding around the stage, which was across the room and on the opposite end of the bar. Currently, a small band was playing what seemed like a form of post-disco, entertaining the dispersed crowds that stood nearby, drink in hand. It was never quiet in the Scorpion, that was for sure, just as it never seemed to be too brightly lit.

There wasn’t really a ‘backstage’ to the small stage upfront, so bandmembers or performers typical just scaled the small steps at either side once the others they were replacing had packed up their equipment. Such would soon be the case for a particular ‘musician’ (though he wasn’t often willing to take the title) that sat at one of the barstools, fingers tapping at a nearly empty drink. He was completely by his lonesome, sitting in the furthest corner from the others, and paying them — Or anything in particular, it seemed — no mind. His eyes were fixed in some obscure corner, and he had remained this way for the past half hour.

A dark stranger he was, and one that most didn’t mind being separated from. Too-fierce eyes watched the world, seeking nothing but yearning for everything, an unsettling gaze that left most feeling cheated. And some that felt this weren’t quite so far off. Though both of his eyes looked quite real, human beings had an uncanny sense of perceiving things; the falseness that was hidden behind the dull and deceptive glass of the prosthetic in his left eye worked wonders on the subliminal defenders within them.

Finally, someone approached him, and a hand slapped at his shoulder. “We’re on after these assholes,” One of his mates reminded him, mumbling out of his own cigarette. “Help me get the s**t outta the back.”

And so rise he did, following the lanky fellow out to fumble with some of their equipment. It was only he and two others in their little show, though neither of them were exactly ‘friends’. They bickered regularly similarly as siblings, their common interest invested in whatever distractions they could afford. Most of the time it was drugs, and the rest of the time it was whatever this gig was to them.

The post-disco finally stopped, and the next emerged. A simple trio consisting of a drummer, a synth player, and himself — The frontman — they had wreaked havoc at any theaters that would have them in Westden. The bar’s guests resumed their loud chatter and drinking as he and his fellow bandmates began their song; but he himself didn’t chime in until he had finished the glass he had brought with him on-stage. Slowly he was lost again, eyes clouded over with what seemed like the pure instinct of an overwhelmed animal. Unfamiliar beats for the era drifted through the dimly-lit bar, though most weren’t particularly enthused, especially when in comparison to the upbeat rhythms of those preceding them.

Can I get a witness
to be on my side?
I’m useless,
You should change your mind.
I need to stick some things inside
to crucify my mind.

As the song broke out into its loud chorus, many turned their eyes as the frontman began to twitch and spasm in what seemed like out of his control; some laughed, while others that were paying any mind grew uncomfortable.

After a few more songs, they quieted, and their frontman stumbled for the stairs. When the other two tried to argue that he should help them pack up their gear, they were met only with silence as he darted for the bar. Something had obviously been bugging him for most of the day, and not having a hit was probably only worsening whatever funk he was in; his only other option, then, was to drown in liquor.

Which was perfectly fine with him.

[pandas are whoa]

_______________________________________
The worst is over now and we can breathe again.
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight.
_______ I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.

✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧

xxxxxThere was no place like home.

Sophia had not realized how much she truly missed home. It had been six years since the twenty-three year old had stepped foot down the main street in Westden. Besides a few new businesses and improvements here and there, not much had changed. She was both relieved and thankful to come back to a warm and familiar place. If only the reason for her returning was more on the good side.

The air was light and breezy, a coastal chilly wind blew by every once in a while. It whipped her hair around as it pleased; making Sophia's walk down the familiar streets a little difficult. She glanced back at her car that was parked a block down the street. With a couple more blocks to go, she was beginning to think that maybe she should have parked a little closer. Arriving at the street corner, her hands slipped into the pockets of her leather jacket and waited for the cars to stop so the pedestrians could walk across the street. Her eyes watched as the scene changed across the street. The block was littered with bars and night clubs of different kinds; which meant that the street was littered with equally different kinds of people either looking for a good time or looking to get lost for a while.

The returning brunette was looking for a temporary job.

The decision to pack up her things and leave the town of Manchester was sudden one. The sudden decision to leave her restrictive, overprotected, and irrational thinking boyfriend of three years without telling him almost made her decision quite bold. If it weren't for her dear brother having his issues in Westden, she would have never found the guts to finally leave the a**. 'He won't miss me anyway.' Her reason for coming back home wasn't to get away from the life she had created. Her reason for coming back home was to try and help her brother from falling off the side of the Earth as they older brother had. If her parents weren't going to do their job, then she would try and do whatever she could to help him.

But Sophia needed a job because she only had so much money that would only last for so long. And the best place to get a quick job with some quick money was to try her luck at some bar. What the hell? Why not give it a try? Sophia had a seemingly newfound freedom and she knew she was a pretty girl. Who wouldn't give her a job?

Well, turns out a good few places weren't looking for her particular pretty face.

It seemed like the moment her feet stepped onto the new block, the atmosphere had completely changed. The smell in the air reeked sex, drugs, alcohol. The bass from the buildings pumped through her your body for a second as you passed by an open door that led into a dark bar or club. Running a hand through her hair, she stepped into The Scorpion after a few people and immediately scanned the large room that was filled with a lot more people than she had originally thought. The music playing and the people mingling were the least of her worries as she tried to look for someone who seemed to work the place. It was hard to tell. Deciding that the one person she know who worked at the venue for sure was the man behind the bar, that is exactly where she headed.

The man did not look the least bit interested in hearing from Sophia. She tried to butter him up the best she could, but he was not having it. "What the ******** do I have to do to get a damn job around here? I'm not some random from out of town. I live here." Her eyes glared at the man who popped a bottle cap off of a beer and handed it to a man next to Sophia. "Look. I told you that the guy who runs this place isn't here tonight. I don't own this place. I'm not gonna hire some chick from off the street. Risk my job? You're not that pretty." The man amused himself, chuckling loudly as he grabbed some money from the counter.

Sophia inhaled deeply and held it for a long moment as she glared at the bartender. She sighed deeply and bit her tongue as she turned her back to the bar. The good part was that she didn't get denied by the owner and that she still had a chance if she came back tomorrow. The bad part? She would have to put up with that loser if given the job.

"I can't win; I just can't." Sophia turned around and reluctantly bought a beer from the loser bartender before moving down to the end of the bar that was less busy. She curiously watched a small band set themselves up on the stage as she slipped her leather jacket off. Suddenly she missed the cool breeze from outside; the venue felt so stuffy, hot. The moment the bottle hit her lips, the band began playing and their sound caught her off-guard. She swallowed the liquid slowly, eyes becoming glued on the scene. Sophia had caught a few shows that featured some rather eccentric performances and this had to top it. Her ears enjoyed the sound; while her eyes were completely fixed.

Sipping the bottle slowly, her lips pulled up into a small smile. Once the performance was over, she simply blinked a few times and that was it. No longer was she transfixed on the stage. What she had just seen was different, but most definitely put her in a different mood for some reason. The alcohol clearly would not have worked that fast. She finished it before the set was over, unbeknownst to her. She left her seat to go and get one more beer before calling it a night and when she returned, she was surprised to see the frontman sitting by her stool at the bar. Sophia took a sip from her last beer and then took a seat, pulling her jacket towards her.

"Good job up there." Her English accent genuinely sang. "At least I won't go home completely disappointed." Sophia turned in her stool and leaned against the counter to keep a look at those chatting and drinking it up; the night wasn't even half over. Her eyes glanced towards the guy at the bar, wondering if he had heard her compliment. She hoped he had taken her words as a compliment.


✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧

Ｓｏｐｈｉ ａ Ｋ. Ｔｕｒｎｅｒ

[unnamed vermin]

XXXXXXXthemeX;Xsitting at the barX;XsophiaX;Xin my head

His crew was right to assume that something was most definitely off about their frontman today. As he sat alone, he demanded the bartender for more liquor with a simple flick of his eyes, daring the other to force an argument against it. Obviously, he had a fair share of alcohol already in his system, but he had been drinking for years — Well beyond mortal years, and so unfortunately, it took more and more for anything to work its way into him. After what was a brief staring contest between he and the bartender, another shot was finally relinquished. Lief didn’t particularly like the bartender here; he was arrant and cheeky, and had given him and his mates flack on previous occasions.

Sometimes it sucked being the only one in on the joke. Mortals like the bartender and many, many others that held themselves ‘high’ in this city obviously assumed that they were ‘above’ others in one sense or another; little did any of them know, they were nothing but fat pieces of meat floating around a pool of sharks. And most of the time, Lief liked this idea — Even despite his rather lowly position within the coven, it gave him his own pseudo sense of power. And what a hypocrite thought that was — And part of him knew it. Perhaps that was the reason he pumped himself full of whatever toxins he could find.

That, and Sheila.

There were a few reasons why he had come to England. He absolutely hated the English (given his history with the bastards in hid childhood), and wouldn’t have willingly lived in their domain unless he absolutely had to. In this case, he did. Sort of. He had needed a coven willing to support him, as living without the safety of the shroud hadn’t been going particularly wonderful; more importantly, though, he had wanted to find Sheila. Still a traveling journalist and photographer even despite her pregnancy, he had more or less stalked her across the United Kingdom until he found her.

Here. In Westden.

But that was nearly a year ago. Time sure did pass quickly when you didn’t rot. She had probably left since then, though he tried not to concern himself with any of it anymore. He had since tried to push her out of his mind, keeping himself busy with the coven’s affairs, drugs, and whatever other impulses that took control. He didn’t need to worry about that s**t anymore. Sheila didn’t want him around, and he had a warrant out for his arrest. Obviously, it was a dead end.

“Everywhere’s a ******** dead end.”

He found himself musing aloud over his drink, seemingly just before a woman resumed her place next to him. s**t, he hadn’t even noticed the jacket that had been left beside him when he resumed his place, but he didn’t think much of it, only casting her a quick glance from over his drink. She didn’t leave immediately after noticing she had accidentally sat next to the convulsing frontman, surprisingly, and even complimented him.

Which was weird. He wasn’t used to compliments, at all, and especially from women. He tried to maintain the air that he was vaguely annoyed with her presence, but it wasn’t really working; her voice didn’t grate on his nerves like all the other plummy English prats, and a pretty girl was always good company.

“Thanks.” His voice was a surprisingly low sotto voce, almost alarming to its thin, loud, and disembodied contrast that had been heard on-stage. “Night’s not going as well as planned.” The understatement of the century. He didn’t usually like making small-talk, but the more he could plug into his mind and lead it astray, the better. That, and she seemed to be resonating a similar aura of defeat. He glanced once more to his right, catching the bright eyes of the girl beside him, “I’m guessing yours hasn’t been any better.”

Shortly following his words, though, obnoxious laughter interrupted their conversation; his bandmates, juggling their stuff, had stopped right behind the both of them. “She comin’ home with us?” The two giggled like the drunk asshats they were, immediately prompting their annoyed frontman to swat at them and growl through his teeth, “Get the ******** outta here, Kev.”

It would have been a simple joke if Kevin, the keyboardist, didn’t belong to the coven. Even while intoxicated, Kev was aware of the presence of the mortal, and they were all tired and hungry. Kev’s face seemed to slip in a split second from laughter to not-quite-composed anger, and he responded flatly, “Get your s**t off the stage, Lief.” Warning eyes lingered on the frontman and the girl beside him. “You’re not worth a million bucks yet.”

Sometimes it felt like he had to orchestrate a bloody miracle to talk to anyone decent, as was evident in his begrudging sigh. He didn’t like being told what to do, and Kev and he would hash out their differences later, and away from prying eyes. For now, he would enjoy his drink and what was left of whatever conversation he had started with the girl, if she chose to stick around.

[pandas are whoa]

_______________________________________
The worst is over now and we can breathe again.
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight.
_______ I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.

✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧

xxxxxWhen Sophia made the decision to return home, she wondered if any old friends still lingered around town. She thought about how nice it would be to sit down with people who remembered you before you had to grow up; when times were a little bit easier. Oh...but then Sophia thought about the way in which she left. Both her parents and friends protested her leaving after she was finished with school because she had no plan. She had met a guy and immediately fell for him. She couldn't wait to leave and finally live as an adult. She left with little words, with little regard for the feelings of those close to her. Most definitely the old friend who still lingered around Westden would be surprised to see her. And those exact same friends would probably enjoy hearing how the plan she made at seventeen years old ultimately failed.

'I mean...I could always lie about how my life has turned out. Why give them that satisfaction.'

It would probably be best not to seek out those friends. She was bound to run into them if they were still around. It wasn't as if she needed them. She didn't necessarily need anyone for that matter. After settling herself, finding what her brother was up to was her main priority. The carefree and playful side of Sophia absolutely hated that fact that she wasn't concerned with finding friends and enjoying her time back at home.

For a good moment, she didn't think the guy would speak to her. He looked so intense and his mind seemed preoccupied with something . And he didn't seem particularly interested in the scene at the moment. A small smile appeared on her face when he finally spoke to her. Not as if she was desperate for a little communication, but to be turned down by two people in one place was going to be deflating. Sophia shrugged a little bit at his guess and her lips parted to respond, but she decided to hold her words when his friends walked up. The smile on her face remained until the joking between the two...didn't seem so much like a joke anymore.

'Well...that turned quickly...' Eyeing the trio, she took a few good drinks from her bottle, slowly swallowing. Sophia watched his friends leave before turning around on her stool to face the bar counter. "Aren't your friends a charming bunch." She sarcastically replied, letting that smile slowly creep back onto her face to lighten the mood. "Just a night full of rejection. It can really wear on a girl, you know." Sophia laughed softly, more towards herself. "Or maybe you don't know. You played a good set...why wouldn't your night be going so well?"

Perhaps the man should have declined speaking to her. Now that someone was actually willing to engage in some sort of conversation with her, Sophia was momentarily hooked. Poor fellow. She felt as if she was already beginning to speak a little too much. Biting her bottom lip softly, she pushed the near empty bottle away from her on the counter, her eyes looking it over before glancing at the guy.



✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧

Ｓｏｐｈｉ ａ Ｋ. Ｔｕｒｎｅｒ

[unnamed vermin]

XXXXXXXthemeX;Xleaving the barX;XsophiaX;Xin my head

Apparently his loud and aggravating ‘friends’ weren’t enough to shoo the girl off, which was both bad and good: bad because he liked to tell himself that he preferred to be alone and that everybody in this corner of the U.K. was a nuisance; good because, as much as he would never admit it, he wanted company. Even while accepted by the coven, he wasn’t entirely considered ‘one of them’; they were primarily, and not surprisingly, consisting of many English that had been in or near Westden since god knows when. Like a native among colonists, he felt greatly misrepresented and alienated. Not that such was anything foreign to him, but considering the circumstances, it was an especially unwelcome feeling.

Especially when, in his heart, he wanted to belong somewhere.

He gave an agreeing quirk of his brow at the comment regarding his ‘charming’ friends, downing the rest of his whiskey. “Still not sure who let them out of their cage.” A corner of his lips lifted into a smirk, and his eyes distractedly peered into the bottom of his now-empty glass. Though a fairly reserved person to begin with, he was frankly a bit anxious around the girl with easy smiles and bright eyes; women that weren’t whores or general bitches made him uncomfortable. After everything that had happened, perhaps he was afraid to care.

“Who rejected who, now?” He replied as if surprised, and he genuinely was. What a nosy b*****d he was.

Apparently he wasn’t the only nosy one sitting at the bar this evening, though. His generally mistrust of others didn’t easily allow him to open up to complete strangers, but alcohol did work some wonders in loosening him up. That, and if he didn’t want any mortal ears to withhold his secrets, he could always kill her. Right? Right. The perks of being a vampire in this town were pretty decent, considering that the homicides were regularly covered up by the coven in-office. Sure, they wouldn’t appreciate having to clean up the mess, and he had been warned about that before — But he made it a habit to throw caution out the window on occasion. Besides, he had never had the opportunity to be young and stupid in his youth, and being immortal certainly gave one time to do a lot of things.

Too much time.

Jesus, what a downer he was. Giving a shake of his head, he seemed to finally register her question, muttering an answer, “I’m missing out on something important.” He meant to leave it vague, but found words tumbling out of his mouth before he granted them permission to do so: “It’s my son’s birthday.”

Dammit.
Well, whatever.

“He’s turning one.” He seemed to be contemplating out loud, fingers tapping anxiously against the empty glass. Avoiding the eyes of the stranger, he glared at the bartender, obviously intent on another drink, but the man turned and blatantly ignored him. Huffing quietly through his nose, he shrugged, “ ‘Mom’ doesn’t really want me around.” Though he didn’t mean to, he vaguely sneered, bitterness seeping through into his words. “So I get it.” He trailed off, adding awkwardly, “The rejection thing.”

A brief pause, before he abruptly slapped his palm on the counter. “Well.” He seemed to conclude his thoughts there, pulling a clump of his hair back and drawing it into a neat knot at the back of his head (it was a b***h getting his equipment off stage with hair in his eyes), seemingly in preparation to leave. “I should, uh…” Oh, right. Cash. He fumbled through his pockets, trying to locate his wallet. As he did so, he mumbled, “I should help out before I gotta buy some extra strength Midol for those two.” He smirked, obviously indicating his mates that were sure to return if he didn’t meet them soon.

But he couldn’t find his wallet to save his life, it seemed. Standing, he shuffled through his jean pockets. Dammit, where the hell did he put it?

[pandas are whoa]

_______________________________________
The worst is over now and we can breathe again.
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight.
_______ I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.

✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧

xxxxxSophia only really wanted someone to speak to and it would be best of she did not know the person. Usually she was not the type to spark up random conversations with random people, but she just felt so alone. It was an odd feeling cause she felt as if that is what she had wanted all along. Living almost seven years with a guy who pretty much ran your life the way that he wanted was draining. And she wasn't the type of person to let that happen to her. But who could she blame? It was her fault for letting herself believe all those beautiful lies and letting someone brainwash her.

She felt so stupid. She was stupid.

One could only take so much until they ultimately broke.
Sophia broke a long time ago. Unfortunately she just didn't have a plan or any resources to leave Manchester a few years ago. Not only that, but she was also so scared those few years ago. Thankfully Mark's intelligence declined due to his intense drug use and her fear faded. Snapping out of her brainwash, she did a little bit of preparation without the dumb a** knowing and it simply became a waiting game.

Talking to this random guy at the bar helped her feel like she had no other problems, besides her brother. She didn't believe that her personal problems were much of an importance. She would like to forget how stupid she was. Hell, she would like to forget that those last seven years never happened...but that wouldn't be easy at all.

"Who rejected who?" Sophia repeated as she straightened herself up at the counter. She smiled widely as she glanced down at her charm bracelet. I did not reject anyone. I guess I've been away from town for too long. I'm a stranger in my own home now." She shrugged lightly with a small sigh. This wasn't exactly the home town she remembered.

Did Westden not want her back? 'How depressing.'

Missing his son's birthday? Sophia's eyebrows curiously raised a little. She glanced away from her bracelet to watch the frontman express what had him so down. His rejection was a little more legit than hers and it held more meaning. Sophia just couldn't get a damn job. Frustrating, annoying, but really not comparable to this guy's rejection. "Oh...I'm sorry to hear that. There will be more birthdays. Mom will come around." Sophia tried to give a bit of encouragement, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't mean much. She wasn't an expert on encouragement or advice, but she didn't just want to sit there and nod.

Besides...he seemed like an okay guy.

"Oh yes. I forgot about those very charming friends of yours." Sophia laughed a little bit, grabbing the bottle she had pushed away a few moments ago. She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank the last bit of alcohol. A few more bottles, even a few glasses of liquor would be nice. But she really needed to see if her brother, Adam, was home. Her last few random visits had ended up empty-handed and it was beginning to worry her. She noticed him fumbling around in his pockets and she assumed it was for some money. "You gave me quite the damn show tonight. Kinda made my night." A smirk slowly appeared on her face as she looked over at him. "I got it." Sophia ran a hand through her hair and nodded in reassurance. "Maybe if I do something a little nice, it'll give me a little good luck. I need it." She was going to leave in a little while and she was okay with doing a "good deed" for the night.

"Think of it as...a treat from a new fan. Congrats." Sophia smiled, her tone sarcastic and playful at the same time.


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Ｓｏｐｈｉ ａ Ｋ. Ｔｕｒｎｅｒ

[unnamed vermin]

XXXXXXXthemeX;Xleaving the barX;XsophiaX;Xin my head

He seemed less insistent on looking away from her eyes, but mostly because it was difficult not to with that smile. And damn, was it contagious; he found his own lips pulling at either corners as he spoke to her, which was a thing that didn’t happen very regularly. He immediately empathized with what she said, though, and his smile faded a moment. “Happens that way sometimes,” He muttered, though was in no way disregarding the weight of what she had said; rather, he was agreeing. He drew his eyes back to her in his own efforts to encourage, “Everyone’ll warm up to you again soon.” And his thin smile returned, “It’s hard not to.”

And true that was; he didn’t usually just warm up to every stranger that sat next to him, anyhow. She frankly admitted that she was sorry to hear about his situation, which only made him slightly more irritated — Not at her, no, but rather at the whole picture. He really didn’t like pity; it felt weakening and degrading. But it was his own fault for mentioning it in the first place, and he knew she didn’t mean any harm by it. He smiled again, this time genuinely; reaching what were normally dark eyes to give them light, “You’re sweet.” But it was clear, somewhere behind the light, that he knew that the wish she had planted was not to be.

Made her night? Really? Well, that rarely happened these days. He would have felt a bit accomplished if it wasn’t for the fact that he was leaving the girl with his tab; which was bound to be expensive, considering the amount he had consumed. Which was actually not very noticeable on him; usually, it took a lot more to make him even vaguely tipsy.

Still not able to find his wallet, he gave up with a reluctant huff. “s**t.” No one would steal his wallet; honestly, it wasn’t worth any thief’s effort. He had likely just misplaced it while he was loading the equipment or something. Obviously embarrassed for leaving a pretty (and nice) girl with his tab, he promised: “Well. Next time it’s on me.” And he was even bold enough to assume there would be a next time.

Feeling rather pathetic for the exchange, he fumbled through his jacket pocket and pulled out an old receipt, flipping it over on the counter with the intent to write on the back. “Hey, and…” He trailed off as he darted to the corner of the bar to fetch a pen from beside the register, before scrawling a number down (his house phone, as cell phones weren’t exactly a thing). “…I know a few guys that could probably use some help, if you need the cash.”

He was taking a leap of faith in assuming that she needed a job, but he could relate to her situation, and knew it was hard to settle down in a place where no one was quite willing to let you in. Clicking the pen as he finished, he slid the slip of paper towards her and gave it a pat, “Don’t head out too late.” His eyes were suddenly very serious, “I don’t want to see your obituary in the paper.”

With that, he gave a nod and turned, moving back towards the stage to collect his equipment. He’d still be around, of course, for quite a bit, and could easily give her a lift to wherever she was staying if she needed it — Or a walk to her car, or whatever. As he fumbled with wires on-stage, though, he was again left to his own thoughts: Why the hell would he say something like that? Think something like that? As if he honestly cared if she wound up dead. She was bound to end up in the coven’s teeth eventually; like a sheep rejected by the rest of the flock, the wolves would find her.

Strangely enough, he didn’t exactly like the sound of that.

He could have just as easily stayed, pumped her full of alcohol, and had her to himself. He hadn't fed since three nights ago, and with her new in town and already willing to engage with him, it would have been too easy. But he didn't, and he wasn't exactly sure why— of course, he would blame the fact that he had been acting off all day, and leave it at that.

(( edited the end slightly)

[pandas are whoa]

_______________________________________
The worst is over now and we can breathe again.
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight.
_______ I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.

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xxxxxAny little thing or any one could brighten her day or make her night. It did not take much someone to make her smile; nor did it not take much for someone to make her scowl. After being in Westden for only a couple of days now and facing nothing but rejection after rejection, she needed a little pick-me-up. She needed a drink and she needed to converse with someone who could relate to her at the moment. Not that this guy completely related to her situation because, in a way, he didn't.

He was down because he could not see his child for his first birthday.
She was down because no one wanted to hire her.
His seemed much more legit.

"Next time it is definitely on you. I am not going to argue with that." Sophia nodded with a small smile smile. She reached over and grabbed her jacket to pull it towards her to fetch her wallet. Her mind would need a little convincing to get herself out of the bar and paying for the drinks would be a great first start. She watched the musician as he moved to grab a pen and then write something down for her. At least there were still some friendly people in town and she was a bit happy that she had actually run into one.

'Unless he's just being friendly so my feelings won't get hurt...'

Sophia spaced out and frowned for a second at her last thought. All that subsided when he finally spoke and then seemingly give her a warning. It was a warning, wasn't it? That's what it sure sounded like. But why? The confused look that fell over her face was priceless. She didn't understand why he would say such a thing to her, unless he was joking. It would be a very off joke, but a joke nonetheless if that was the case. Her head nodded slowly at his words and she watched him walk off for a moment. "What the hell was that about?" Her words were soft, almost a mumble as she turned away to face the bar.

After paying for the drinks, Sophia slipped her jacket on and made her way back onto the streets. While it was very warm inside the venue, it was pretty chilly outside on the streets. A chill ran up her spine as she slipped the paper into the pockets of her jacket. Her hands remained in her pockets as slowly began to walk the couple of blocks back to her car. Just as she crossed a street, a loud group of guys walked out of some club. Their obnoxiously loud laughter and joking bothered her for a moment, but if were not for hearing the name 'Adam', she would have continued on. Sophia suddenly stopped and turned around quickly to look at the group of guys who started down the street.

"Adam!" Sophia's eyes widened as she watched him turn around to look at her. The male rubbed the back of his neck and cursed aloud. [******** me a moment, will ya?" He pushed past his friends and crossed the street, finally meeting up with his younger sister. "What are you doing out here?" Sophia frowned and looked him over. "Me? I've been trying to get in contact with you. I wanted to let you know I was in town for a bit." Her face softened as she watched her brother who looked like he could careless. Her face softened, but she felt her blood boiling on the inside.

How could he not want to spend time with this only sister? She was all he had.
He was all she had.

"I can't do this now. Okay?" Adam sighed, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it to quickly take a drag. "I got your note on my door. Just...uh." He glanced behind him to see his friends waiting. "Just come by again tomorrow or something and we can talk. Good?" He took another drag.

Sophia watched her brother with concerned eyes. There was something about him that wasn't right. She had no idea what could be wrong with him and that worried her very much. She really didn't want him to go, but she didn't want to get him annoyed or angry with her. 'Then he'd probably disappear for sure...' She finally gave a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Good. I guess that's all I'm getting for now." Sophia watched him before he gave a small smile and turned, taking off in a jog to meet up with his friends. She wished she could have felt like her brother would be fine, but watching two guys glance back at her as her brother walked with them hit her wrong the way. She groaned lightly, turning away and heading back to her car.

"Let me get home before I end up dead." Sophia mumbled, mocking the musician's last comment he gave her. Pulling out her keys and unlocking the door, she turned her head back down the street, realizing that she hadn't got the guy's name. How was she supposed to get her free drink later down the road now?



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Ｓｏｐｈｉ ａ Ｋ. Ｔｕｒｎｅｒ