Post by auzurey samara catazelle on Mar 17, 2011 15:30:51 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width, 450px, height, 438px, bTable][atrb=width, 300px][atrb=style, background: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/jqt5k9.jpg) no-repeat right; border: 1px solid black; background-color: black ,bTable] | i am a deliberate coquette:::: who could never do without what i want It wasn't morning, or even in the afternoon that had beckoned Auzurey to arise from her sleep. It was the calling of the young night as the sun just began to sink into the horizon for it's own slumber. He bed was empty, surprisingly, as it usually was filled with the man of her choosing. Her "flavor of the week" (or more like day). She sat up from her bed, eyes half-lidded and hair disheveled in a sleepy way. Night was when she prowled the best, as the men who did stray around usually were looking for a bit of companionship themselves. Oh if her father only knew how wrong he had been to leave her to her own amusements. She had no connections, no friends that she had made. Her background made for instability and her reputation made for prevention. Prevention of the young woman to get what she truly wanted in life; connection. Whether it was intimate or not, she really didn't care. She craved the attention that was a daily dose for the average person. Never would she have been like the young teens that rebel against their parents, or the lover that cheated for another. If the opportunity had really been hers, she would have been faithful, loyal and true. But no. That wasn't her life. She was stuck in an coiled up mass of of recreation constructed of strictly one night stands and horrid hang overs. She didn't hate it, per se (or else, surely she would have really attempted to change it) but it was safe to say that she didn't particularly like it either. So she went about a half-planned schedule, washing up and straightening up her thread bear apartment. It had become so natural for her that it was like breathing, and just as dull as well. She stared outside of her window at the streets below for a good ten minuets. A ritual perhaps, though she hadn't particularly constructed that habit for a purpose. It was her against the world... and they all knew it. She could see it in the way they glanced, avoided and reacted to her. They was no love for a tramp... even a tramp with a story. Opening her door, she walked out of her apartment, instantly greeting by the manager who, unfortunately for Auzurey herself, lived next door. Both women exchanged glanced, equally none too kindly. Leaning against her door, Auzurey folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow. "You rent is late again." The old woman reminded her for the hundreth damned time. Auzurey rolled her eyes, turning to lock her door behind her. Not that it would stop the old hag. She had the keys to every door in the building. "I got it. I'll give it to you later." She replied, sniffling from the allergies she caught from the airborne dust. "It's already late, sweetheart. Maybe you shouldn't be spending on other things." She knew it would come to this. It always did, Margaret the nosy-ass neighbor. What could be wore then having a nosy neighbor who just so happened to be the manager of the apartment? "You got a lot of men coming through your room" She pointed out the obvious with a smart-alec and accusing smirk. Auzurey leered back at her, but tried to look cool in all of it. "You just jealous 'cause you got no men coming at all." She half-growled back. "Look. Stay outta my business Old Lady." Pointing a threatening finger at her manager, Auzurey sulked off like a slithering serpent with a full stomach. She couldn't stand people sometimes. People in general... Skipping down the stairs, she walked out to the streets, heading for the bus stop. She didn't know what she was going to get herself into tonight, but where ever her sub-conscious mind took her, it never failed to find her some company. Sitting at the bus stop, she waited, taking the time to let her mind wander to things like her father and how he was doing. She thought about him often, missed him only on her loneliest times and rejoiced in his safety when she found that another letter from him had been sent to her mail box. Of course, he'd always try to give her money to try and take care of her for a change and with the money he mad it would have been enough to get her a decent house. Instead, however, she kindly gave it back, writing to him that she was okay. It was his health that was important to her, not her own. As the bus came to a stop in front of her, she stood up, noticing at the corner of her eye that there were a couple of men coming. Whether it was towards her or the bus, she didn't know, but it didn't take a genius to see the they were downright, piss-drunk. She stepped on the bus quickly and sat in the back; they entered as well, sitting near her but not near enough to strike up any kind of conversation (if they could even manage by now, being that they could barely even walk straight). She fidgeted nervously, taking occasional glances at them, and they, in turn returned a continuous stare. She could handle men. She handled men all the time, but it was the drunk men that scared her. She had gotten with a few and had gotten drunk herself, waking up not only with a headache but an occasional bruise or two. She couldn't even remember anything about drunk violence, but was certain that she was on the receiving end and it was never good. To run into something like this when she was sober... than wasn't the kind of attention she wanted. At her stop, she hopped off of the bus, as did the men, walking briskly without looking back. The chilly air was no help to her nerves, for some reason it made everything seem worse. It made the stalking seem dream-like, as if she was stuck in some "Nightmare On Elm St." dimension. Walking faster, she weaved through alley ways and cut corners to lose them. It was tougher than she thought, they kept up a little too well for drunks. A brisk walk graduated into a jog until she was able to maneuver away from them, pressing her back against the wall to hide in an alley as they passed by. Men were good... Drunks were bad. Most were filled with nothing but bad intentions. TAG open WHERE in an alley way near the bus stop WORDS 1082 MUSE none OUTFIT here LYRICS original text CREDIT I made this table myself NOTES just join in. don't feel pressured about making a long post. I just had a lot of muse to spare. :D |