Jul 20, 2011 18:14
osceno: jacques gérard caillier,
lmaoherlife: sasha,
- members,
#candlejack,
*action,
typeblight: jules grumley ( au. ),
inonebody: fenrad,
switchgun: riley,
makhairai: facon,
creepinginmy: jack gibson & cerbos,
jemerite: zinc,
wantsakitteh: andël vlcěk
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Brother. [ The Russian accent of the human still remains, but his voice is raw, like a whisper that claws at the throat, leaves the skin sore. ]
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All in all, this reads as a pleasant surprise.]
Weren't you supposed to be dead?
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She reflects on it quietly while he's out. She's gone to sit on the landing of the stairs leading up to the studio, her legs dangling over the street, arms folded on the knee-rail. The door behind her is open, should she need to disappear inside with expediency for some reason. He'll probably be annoyed she's letting bugs in again... Oh well. They can be killed.]
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She isn't sure why she's there, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't question things. Not usually. She keeps to herself, walks with her head low, hunched over, looking smaller than she is, thinner than she is, a sack of flesh and bones under large hoodies and jeans too big for her. It's very unattractive, but she prefers it that way. Less glances towards her. People don't like looking at homeless people, even if they are as harmless and skittish as Sasha. It's like a they're a disease you will catch if you do look.
She's sitting on the stairs, rolling a cigarette, hood falling upon her face, head leaning against the rails. She's tired, like always, but not high. ]
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She sniffs curiously, curious to know if it's tobacco she's rolling or something else. If it's the latter, Zinc does not want to be downwind from it. She catches the scent of something else though, and sits up a little straighter, her intensity focused on the girl.]
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Finished with the cigarette, she closes the bag and the filters, shoving it on her worn out, dirty backpack, putting it on her lap and wrapping her arms around the thing like a child does with a teddy bear, setting her chin on it. She takes a small lighter out of the pocket of her hoodie, flicking it and touching the tip to the flame it emits, letting a cloud of smoke out.
Finally, she takes a time to look around. It is a rather empty street. Sasha has no qualms with that. She likes it that way. Her head turns and she looks up and jumps when she sees the girl watching her back. Quickly, she turns her head down, like a dog that's out of order. ]
S-sorry. I didn't, hm, didn't know s-someone else was h-here. [ Such a pathetic lispy stutter. ]
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( Sipping some coffee. Mmm, coffee. )
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No, wait. ) Fuck's sake. ( Very quiet and entirely to herself. )
I suppose you 'gots do', yes.
( Which is probably why Gerard is such a poor, miserable bastard, she thinks to herself. )
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Wow, sweetcheeks. What kinda dog bit ya' ass?
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