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Post by charlie on Dec 8, 2011 20:56:27 GMT -6
The Femme Fetale had become one of the easiest bars for Charolette to make cash at; as a waitress, she earned more tips when dressed in a little less clothing. Her tail swayed behind her, protruding from her small skirt. Her white, collared shirt was tied up slightly to show off just a small portion of her stomach, while the top few buttons were unpopped to reveal a bit of her well endowed chest. The Femme Fetale was practically crowded tonight- so crowded that her shift had ended an hour ago...and she was still waiting tables and passing out drinks to the swarm of patrons. Every so often the place became loaded with people, backed with eager...well, men, mostly. She had been grab-assed, wolf whistled, and hit on by more than half the fellows in the place; and Charolette, though used to it in this place, was quite annoyed. First off, she was working well past what she was supposed to. And secondly, these men were so persistant and so horrible at flirting that it bordered on depressing. Their skills were almost as horrendous as her brother's- and he had zero skill in flirting. Only the Gods could know how he had scored so many dates and one night stands. She rolled her eyes, pushing her way past a few of the men who were simply standing around stupidly. She set her tray down and sighed heavily, blowing her brownish-red hair out of her crimson colored irises. The bartender shook her head in sympathy and loaded her tray with even more drinks. She shrugged and grabbed the tray in her hands, walking it to a back row of tables to be passed out to the waiting men. Once more she was the reciever to many hoots and hollers; each of them drunk out of their mind. She couldn't help but laugh quietly to herself- realizing just how foolish they had each sounded. Their pick-up lines were nothing short of ridiculous. She set her tray back on the bar, but when the bartender had gone to put more, she lifted a hand in protest. "I'm out of here- my shift should've ended forever ago." she said with a bit of a hiss in her voice, her ears flicking in irritation. She was getting overly tired; she wanted rest.
Charolette changed her clothes, quickly finding them in the back. Her body felt much better in her white, long sleeved dress; its collar keeping her neck warm. It was much too cool outside- the Femme Fetale loved having a lack of clothes on their employees. It kept the customers coming in. She left out of the back way, wagging her tail slowly as she hummed a quiet tune. As she walked along, she pulled out her carton of cigarette, lighting one with her finger tip to shove between her lips. She sighed happily, pausing at a street corner to enjoy her smoke. A group of drunken men attempted to pick her up- thinking she was a waiting prostitute. When they had gotten close, she had kicked her foot out to push them back. She didn't have more time for crap. Luckily, they left. For a short amount of time. They had returned some time later as she was walking in the direction of her motel; and with more men. She hissed slightly, her tail fluffing slightly as she growled loudly at them. In a matter of seconds she had shifted into her wolf form, snapping violently at them as they attempted to hit her. Her jaws ripped into their legs and arms, eventually forcing them to hobble away. Her fur had become scruffed, recieving a few bad cuts from them having knives hidden in their belts. She panted and shifted, her now naked body surrounded by a few stains of blood on the stone street and scraps of her white dress which was once whole. She rubbed her forehead in an irritated manner- she had some strength left but she had just been so tired from working. Restlessly, she curled into a ball, her fluffed tail wrapping itself around her to warm her body as she slowly fell asleep in the street.
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Post by desmond on Dec 9, 2011 15:23:02 GMT -6
Desmond didn't get too many nights off, like, at all. In fact, the blonde fallen couldn't even remember the last time he'd spent the night by himself. Officially off duty for the night. He wasn't even supposed to be around Lucifer until tomorrow afternoon [when the both of them tended to wake up]. Most of the Guardians tended to loathe their wards, Des did not. In fact, he idolized the chaos-creating, purple haired woman. She was beautiful, destructive and could actually stand to be around the narcissistic fallen. And the latter was a bonus, as most people couldn't often handle the superior personality, good looks and overall impressive characteristics that made up him! Lucifer had the same outlook as he, and they could go on all day stroking each other's egos. And they had, more than once, unsurprisingly. But even Desmond had to wonder.. Why would Lucifer just give him to 'get lost', then? She was almost never that generous to give him the day off. She generally spent them giving him him foolhardy tasks that often required little skill other than being able to find things at a cheap enough price. And often enough, he never had to pay a dime out of his own pocket.
Unfortunately, Desmond had absolutely no life outside Lucifer and his 'hobbies'. Aside from Chaos, the most social interaction was when he talked to his dealer down on here in the rough side of Demimonde, and even that was declining lately, as the Navy had really been cracking down on the drug trafficking/selling lately, which was rather disappointing. The fallen had become a bit dependent on the man who was only known as "Adrian" who sold them by the brick. But even the gutsy ones like Adrian were retreating to their lairs, as it was too risky to sell on the streets these days. Even to the most loyal of customers, like Desmond, who had been coming to the guy for almost twenty years now. The blonde fallen supposed he could just go to the guy's house and steal some, but soon decided it wasn't really worth it. If he lost the trust of the dealers, he would be doomed to look for a good deal on dust somewhere else. In the long run, it was just a better decision to stick with them. He only really drank at all when he was with Lucifer, so barhopping didn't really seem idealistic to the blonde man. And of course, he had absolutely zero friends. As mentioned before, not too many people could handle Desmond Creed or his absolute greatness.
So with nothing to do, the fallen had taken to wandering around. It was a good way to kill time and find people to note in his little black book of potential victims. Demimonde was a great place to find victims. Everyone here was dirty, loathsome and disgusting. Nobody would ever miss them, as most of them were either orphaned at one point or were just douches that were better off dead, for whatever reason. Des didn't really give a shit about who they were or why they were here, of all places. He picked his victims at random, whomever was unlucky enough to come across the handsome, blonde Evil Angel. He himself, preferred female victims. They didn't often fight back, whether they were just in a state of shock, or they had been overpowered by Desmond's superior beauty strength. Men were fine too; the blonde fallen wasn't terribly picky about them. Just as long as he got what he wanted in the end, not that wasn't ever a problem. As Des always got what he wanted, no matter what. Even if he had to cheat a little. ~
It was a fairly chilly evening, late at night. Des had always loved the cold, especially when it was cold enough for you to see your own breath. It gave a flair to dramatics that was most definitely necessary. He considered rolling up a joint and just going home, though. Not too many people were out tonight, certainly none of them were worthy enough to be even considered to be victims. They were all writhing in their own filth and denial about their situations as poor fucks. With that, Des decided that it was time to go home.. There was nothing to do here, so he might as well go home and shoot something up.. Or something. Maybe get the kid from across the hallway to get him some pizza. Sounded fine, he supposed. Maybe he could even catch up on some of that sleep he owed his messed up body. The fallen slipped his hands into his red trench coat and headed towards the alley where he could take a shortcut to his apartment, which was a couple blocks over. Desmond yawned, nearly tripping over something and landing in the snow. The blonde man blinked and got to his feet, brushing the snow off his washboard abs. He cursed and glanced down at the thing he tripped over.
His blue eyes widened slightly, realizing that it was a naked woman.. In the middle of the alley/street. Desmond grumbled, poking the woman in the shoulder with his booted foot. He wasn't entirely sure the woman was actually alive or not, as she didn't seem to be breathing. It was awfully cold for someone to be running around completely naked. Des himself, for some reason found that cold didn't bother him at all. It was another reason he loved it so, as it was the only time of year he could wear basically anything without feeling any sort of mild discomfort. He kicked her again, just in case. When he saw the woman twitch a little, he knew that she was alive, though probably not for much longer if she stayed out here like this. It was when he was taking her appearance in that he noticed that she was also wounded. It wasn't that bad, but again, in this condition she was in, it would only make things a lot worse. Des could only smile a little. Perhaps Lucifer was responsible for such a gift? It must've been her, as no fool would be out here like this.. In the snow, all cuddled up in a ball, completely naked.
Desmond's smile turned into an evil, but amused smirk. Either Lucifer was rewarding him for all of his hard work, or he had just gotten really lucky. Either way, he was grateful for the gift. He kicked the woman hard in the shoulder again, speaking to her for the first time. "Hey you." his creole accent was unnerving, especially when spoken in such a tone that was intended to scare his future victim. "It's time to wake up. ~"
words: 1137 $$ added
notes: 8U
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Post by charlie on Dec 9, 2011 16:20:31 GMT -6
The snow was not as big of a factor in weakness as water was to Charolette- the cold of the fluffy white substance wasn't bothering her as badly as the sting of the wounds were. Her muscles tightened as her legs pulled in closer, her ears pulling back in distaste. All she needed was a few moment of rest and she could regather her composure and leave; it just took a little while for her body to regain itself. Not to mention, her energy was dimmed; near depletion. Her breathing had taken a pause and she had allowed herself to slip into a dream state, later falling into such a deep sleep that if there were to be someone passing, they would've claimed her dead. Snowflakes stuck in her reddish-brown hair as she remained completely still; her tail wrapped fully around her legs and her ears remaining pulled back. The world around her was completely lost to her as she slept away. For all she knew, she could've been sleeping through a gang fight over her snow covered body. A shudder ran up her back, but she remained asleep.
Without taking a bit of notice, something touched at her shoulder. Charolette was sleeping so heavily, she didn't even feel. That is, she didn't feel until the poke of the boot turned into a kick. Her body jolted horribly and her eyes flew open. Her breathing became uneven as she shook. Where was she again? Her eyes roamed around the snowy street scene, taking in every detail. Ok, it was Demimonde. She knew this street...it was really close to...to...Femme Fetale. Where she had worked on occassion. With a great amount of strength, she sat up just a little, resting on one arm. Where had the force of a kick come from, then? She turned her head a little to see a tall figure, long blonde hair and bright blue eyes to accompany his lengthy features. She blinked, squinting to try to take in more of his appearence. "It's time to wake up.~" he said, but to Charolette it was a bit muffled. Her body was still aching, still sore.
She summoned some strength to sit herself up a little bit more and she cleared her throat, preparing herself to speak. "Who are you...?" she said, her voice cracking slightly. Another shiver ran up her body and she sat herself up completely, looking into the snow around her to find small stains of crimson. Not too much blood had been lost, but it was still a good enough amount to make her incredibly weak. Her hands grasped at her body, feeling it was completely bare. When she lifted her hands and wriggled her fingers, her hands were stained with the same colored crimson as the snow. Worried, she looked down. A few cuts around the stomach, one or two on her legs. The Were sighed quietly, placing her hands on her face. She tore them away quickly and hissed. The wounds there stung the worst. She poked gently with her fingertips, feeling a deeper made cut under left eye. Damn drunken idiots. Her tail swayed off her legs and she turned her body toward the blonde, her crimson eyes searching him.
Well, it was in the middle of winter and he had no shirt on. Just a red trench coat was covering his chest. That was curious. She allowed her nose to intake some of his scent and it seemed familiar...similar to Alphonse. Except it smelled old and...darker. Much more ancient and powerful than her former Fallen lover. Her brows furrowed in worry and she pursed her lips, wrapping her arms around herself. The weight of his magic, his power could be felt. He was clearly a force much stronger than her- and with her body in the state that it was, there would be not much of a fight for her to give. Charolette, however, never went down without a fight. If it turned to that, she'd try her hardest to get out of the fight alive. Her ears flicked forward, then pulled back again, goosebumps running all over her body. So damn cold. And one of her favorite dresses was in shreds. She sighed again and pulled her knees to her chest. "Look. I don't know what you want, but I'm fine on my own." She hadn't intended it to, but her words came out in a bitter fashion. Charolette was a powerful girl- she knew she was. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to properly defend herself. But not only was she strong, she was smart. She knew damn well that her condition would be no match. The easiest solution she could muster was to tell the man to go away and that she was fine. Some men listened, afterall.
She couldn't fight him off, her body hurt like hell. She couldn't shift and chase him off, she had been wounded and it took more energy to shift on a night that didn't have a full moon overhead. Charlie was shit out of luck. The only thing her mind could think of now was: "Fuck." because she had come to the realization that this guy could probably kill her in one hit. A simple strike could probably knock her out cold and dead. Her body shuddered again. Hopefully that wouldn't be the case- she wasn't willing to die. Then again, who was? Except for the suicidal or the old or sick who had been ready to accept death completely. She still had a whole lot of time in her life expectancy; and she wasn't leaving her brother...and especially not Alphonse. The blonde she had taken a liking too. Actually, she found it a bit funny that she felt safest with a blonde-haired blue-eyed Fallen...and most in danger by a blonde-haired-blue eyed Fallen. Coincidences, right? Maybe if she didn't say anything more, the guy would just leave. Perhaps if she just ignored him, he'd get bored of her and wander off somewhere; leaving her to just fend for herself like she preferred.
WORDS: 1021! $$ added
NOTES: e3e MUSE, GOOO!!
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Post by desmond on Jun 26, 2012 13:07:39 GMT -6
An amused smirk fell upon the blonde fallen's face. She was alive- which was good, because it would have been terribly disappointing if the woman had been dead. As she slowly awoke, Desmond realized that she had ears and a tail, which was rather odd. A paperjast, perhaps? He hadn't seen too many of them in his time, but he knew that many had the same physical attributes. Cute face, hot body and animal parts. The latter was a little weird, even for the blonde fallen, who was pretty much open to just about everything sexually. He'd still bang 'er, as long as she didn't do the whole.. Cat thing. You know, where they start doing that weird thing on your chest- like you were a cushion or something. That just pissed him the fuck off. His hatred for cats was bizarre, especially for the one he often saw when he was high as a kite. Fluffy, as he had come to known it as, enjoyed mocking him and talking in haiku. Haiku was such a retarded form of poetry. Long story short, if she was a jast, he'd just kill her. Cats ruined his fucking sex drive, and nobody wanted that.
It didn't take a lot to guess what had happened here. Perhaps she was a whore, running away from her master, [if she was indeed, a jast] and had managed to wound them and herself enough for them to leave. How fitting, for a whore to die out in the snow, right? Perhaps. Why else would she be naked? The Cajun blonde took other ideas into consideration, though none seemed to make as much as sense as his first idea had. He didn't take it into consideration that she could be a werewolf, as he had never heard of one being cursed with ears and a tail. He had only met a few werewolves in his time, though never in their true form, and only had a vague idea of what they actually appeared to look like/behave in their said form. Des chortled, his smirk twisted into a creepy smile. "A better question cherie, is what a beautiful woman, such as yo'self is doin' out here in the lord's suit, mh?" Desmond shook his head and made a 'tsk' sound, as if he was offended in some way. "Nono, mon cherie. You are certainly not fine- in fact, you look like you could use some good ol' Cajun hospitality,"
He offered a fingerless, gloved hand to the young woman. "Desmond will help you, oui?" he attempted to hide his smile and replaced it with one of seemingly honest intentions. She was too hesitant for him to just outright jump her, he would have to form at least some bond of trust between them for awhile. Desmond had to admit, she was rather attractive- in an innocent, project sort of way. If he wasn't deeply, madly and horrifically in love with Chaos herself, who did not like it when her beau cheated, he would have considered turning her. It was surprisingly easy, actually. Breaking a woman's sanity, which was already fragile, was easily done. Getting her addicted to a sort of drug was easy as well, and had done it a few times in the past. A forced diet of only toast and vikodin usually did the trick. Though she seemed to be one of those stronger women, which meant that he would probably have to torture her extensively first, then the drugs. It was a shame, that he couldn't do this more often. Lucifer kept him so busy, so with his other 'hobbies', he didn't have the time.
Though perhaps if he could break this one, he could entice Lucifer with this adorable, lost femme? The animal ears and tail would be a bonus, as even Lucy found them cute. The Cajun fallen decided that this would be a good use of her, a present for Lucy! She might not even be mad if he raped her a couple of times first! He found that taking advantage of his victims while brutally torturing them caused significant mental trauma, which was a good break in the otherwise, fragile mortal psyche. This was a good plan, yes. "Shall we get you all warm, cherie?" And just in case she thought otherwise; "y'probably won't last much longer out in the cold in your condition." he added as he slid his hands back in his coat pockets. A harsh wind blew moments later, swaying his coat just enough for the sheath of his katana to be seen briefly. Once he realized this, he tugged on his coat to hide it, hoping she had not seen it. Swords were surprisingly intimidating these days, even in the golden age of guns. Des preferred them, they were still far better for torture and cutting things.
words: 810
notes: |D DOES THAT MAKE HIM CRAAYYZAAYY?
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