| Waking up in Hell |
[05 Dec 2006|08:42pm] |
"Ugh..." Leah moaned, registering a nasty headache as she slowly regained consciousness. It was as if she were underwater trying to swim her way up to the surface with a weight holding her down, it was a struggle to rise up from the depths of sleep into a state of wakefulness.
She couldn't quite remember what had knocked her out, she and Betty had been traveling down to Searchlight on a road trip...
Betty Wynedale was another dancer at Fang Noir and a practicing witch who was about Leah's age. The two girls had struck up a friendship the past few months, and had been hanging out together outside of work. Betty wanted to go to "Unseen Insight" down in Searchlight that day, and Leah went along on the road trip to be good company and to see if the place had any books on succubi. The girl wanted to learn more about her demonic half beyond what others had told her about it.
Leah'd been catching a catnap while Betty was driving, and heard the other woman curse before the car swerved violently. She could dimly recall Betty screaming before everything went black...
( Waking up in Hell )
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| The Hang-Out |
[05 Dec 2006|11:27pm] |
The whine of a Vespa engine competed with the sound of the trucks on Searchlight's main drag as Byron whizzed down the road as fast as his vehicle would take him. It was close to that time where the sun would soon be setting, and the encroaching dusk would give way to a clear November sky and a moon which was not quite full. The perfect time to visit the Fairgrounds.
The werewolf was in the greatest of moods on this particular evening, and so he should have been; Hannah Flynn was by far the coolest girl he'd ever met, and said girl had actually wanted to hang out with him. To say Byron was anxious could have been an understatement, but the little blonde didn't seem to think he was too much of a dork, enough so that they had upgraded their acquaintance from gas station cleark and customer to 'hanging out'.
A sharp turn was made and the Vespa roared up Hannah's street, and as gravel crunched under small rubber tires, Byron killed the ignition the second he arrived infront of her trailer. He removed his helmet while dismounting from the bike, and jogged up to her front door. Hand brushed through his hair, he instinctively checked his reflection in a window before his fingers curled to give the front door a good hearty knock.
Buddin budddddinnnn....
Over the blast of a radio, it was just background noise. A sound that Hannah happily ignored in favor of curling her hair, until it stopped outside her trailer. “Wha..?” She shuffled over to the window, poked at the blinds, and peered out.
Crap! He was on time! All men should instinctively know that on time was early, and late was on time, and really late was only slightly so!
She flicked them shut, just barely missing Byron’s examination of himself, reflected on the same glass. Back at the mirror, though, her real trouble was only beginning. A snarl of blonde hair had gotten wrapped the wrong way, and that meant the curling iron bristles were stuck.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
Hannah unplugged the iron and took it with her, still frantically pulling tufts of hair free. “Just a minute!!!” She hoped that hadn’t sounded too frantic. The thump of small feet went racing through the house, back and forth, closet to bathroom. With her feet stuffed in her tennis shoes -- except in the back where her heels stuck out -- she did an ants-in-the-pants dance at her bathroom sink and meticulously pried the hair free.
“Coming!”
Eight seconds later, she had radio off, the door open, and a pleasant look on her face. “Byron! Won’t you come in?” Okay, that was a little over the top, even for her, but she was compensating.
( Like My Bike? )
( Things Not To Do While Driving )
( Stuff Your Face or Brave the Ride? )
[Thread: Open to Byron and Hannah]
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