All Night Long

[Adrienne Putilina]

ONE PUSH IS ALL YOU'LL NEED

- - - - - - - - a fist first philosophy - - - - - - - -

Tag: Evan, Sister, Joel Words: adsfasdfa Lyrics: Diamond Eyes - Shinedown 

Outfit: link Notes: notes here

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Parties. Adrienne liked parties. Most of the time. Liked the way the music seemed to pound into her head and stay for days after, chasing around her thoughts until they weren’t nearly as important as they had been. Liked the way that the lights pressed into her skin- danced over it and made it look alive. Which she supposed it was- its own cellular living structure or something similar as the puffed up woman in the hospital wing had informed her the last time she’d gone in with a scrape from falling out of the ceiling’s rafters. She liked going to parties. And playing a part. Liked dancing through the crowd and pretending that she was someone else some nights. Although those didn’t happen near as often. For the most part she sat up on some elevated surface and watched. Watched the people in their peacock clothing with all the colors dance under the strobe lights. Watched the inevitable fighting and kissing and everything between. Listened to Evan make disparaging comments about those that were out on the floor in front of him and more often than not drift off with some girl later into the night. Watched as Joel managed to stay within the same ten feet and still rotate about as different people came up to him. Rotate, rotate, rotate. The dancers on the floor and the two boys she actually talked to for any length of time. Her fingers closed more firmly upon those of the girl’s she was holding on to- pulling her away from a group of people that Adrienne generally tried to avoid- dipping around the blonde girl whose profile was only just visible around one of the two identical boys on either side of her. A blonde she had to avoid- needed to until she could reach the two familiar figures over to the side that she was heading towards. “You almost look like a girl Drie,” Her eyebrows shifted, face turning down to look at the dress clinging to her almost as if she’d forgotten it was there. A girl? Her nose scrunched. She didn’t even know what that meant; she always looked like a girl. She was a girl. Genetically speaking she had all the parts that would say so anyways. And she didn’t ever feel like a boy. Therefore… she was a girl. So why was that a question? Her face turned up again with a shrug of her shoulders, fingers detangling from the hand at her side as she moved forward slightly, breathing in through her nose as the itching in her shoulders stopped. People didn’t talk to her when she was with Evan. Didn’t shove up on her or yell things at her. Didn’t whisper in her ear. Evan was safe. Safe for her. Her eyes rolled back to the girl at her side, over the dress swishing over her small thighs and the bared shoulders. Safe for her too? Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. Illy was supposed to be safe too. Adrienne could make sure, was making sure. They were safe here. “I want one.” Her brows shifted again, looking up to where her sister’s eyes were centered on the smoke drifting from Evan’s lips. Wanted a cigarette. She could do that, would be safer. If she felt like- already her hand was reaching forward, dipping into the front pocket of Evan’s pants and pulling out the box. Rectangle of smokes. Funny. They were cylinders weren’t they? Cylinders in rectangular packaging. Only Evan’s arm was reaching around her, something passing to Illy that had her gaze shifting back with narrowed eyes between the two of them. Shouldn’t have taken that. Taken Evan’s after demanding so blatantly. Evan was safe. Evan was dangerous. Evan was like smoke that could get in your eyes. She didn’t want that here- wanted it to be okay. “Light me one too Drie. Are you going to fucking introduce your friend or just keep letting her make demands without a name?” Light him one what? She didn’t like the way Illy was looking up at him, didn’t like the way she was talking.


She’d tried to warn her, with her hand- Evan was smoke. Smoke could be nice, could be friendly. Smoke could smell good when coming from something burning. But smoke could shift so easily. Smoke could twist about and come and choke you. Introduce. She hadn’t done that? She’d thought she had. Her shoulders rolled, air hitting the bare skin before she turned back to Evan. “My sister Illyana. Illyana- Evan.” Had she told Illyana before they left- warned her that Evan was different. She couldn’t remember, her fingers shifting as she pulled a cigarette from the casing and felt her lips turning up. “Illyana- Joel.” Joel. Joel who had things for her. Something to try. Something to ingest.. Maybe something to smoke. She didn’t care, her eyes drifting over to him and holding up the pack- placing the one she had between her lips and sparking it- allowing the cherry to burn down the slightest bit before handing it over to Evan. Taking the other two between her fingers before she shoved the box back into Evan’s pants- following Joel’s direction away before freezing- wide eyes turning back to the pair. Had she warned her? Smoke. Could she trust smoke with Illy? “Don’t worry Drie, I’ll watch your sister,” The same voice he used when talking about her. Evan didn’t hurt her. Didn’t. She would only be gone for a minute- her eyes searching Illyana’s for the half second it took for her to determine that she was okay with it before following Joel away.
Circles. Circles. Circles. They were walking in them, even if it wasn’t how their feet were actually leading. Circles as they walked around those bodies that were crowded into this place- circles as they rounded a pair of people intent on making their way out to the middle of the dancing throng, rounding their steps in order to avoid crashing into the bodies. Circles as he turned and came to a stop. “Alright babycakes” Babycakes… right, he was using his weird words and names again, that vernacular that she was actually just beginning to come to terms with here however many years later. Enthused. He was always so frenetic. Kinetic. Chaotic. Her lips turned upwards, eyes following the movement of his palms for half of a moment. Circles. As if she were expecting the product to pop up between the fingers from nowhere- it wouldn’t be unusual. It seemed to do that sometimes. And he was making those motions, the ones he did before he gave her pills- even if there didn’t seem to be any between his palms. Pills? Right, no she had asked for green- straight green. Green to take the edge off of the pressing bodies that would begin to wear within the next hour or so. Green to- “I brought you the usual, but my special patented Christmas blend,” Christmas. Oh that was coming up wasn’t it? The halls that would be decorated so enthusiastically with all of the shiny trimmings and toppings- at least three of which that would make their way back to her dorm’s bedside table by the end of the season. “It's really going to deck your halls babe.” Deck her halls? Her eyes moved to his uncertainly, eyebrows dipping over her forehead in confusion. What halls? Unless he meant ones in her dorm, they were all that could really be hers and even then she wasn’t the one who decorated them. Those were done while she slept- little feet creeping through the darkened… oh. Her lips curled further as recognition settled over her- pleased with the way she grasped his meaning. Strange vernacular. Circular words. She was picking up on it quicker these days. “Another little sumtin sumtin for ya if you're feeling it.” Another? More. Extra. Her brain identified the offer favorably, the side of her head tilting as she waited for him to name the price. There was always a price. Things didn’t just come free. “It'll just cost you a dance. Handful of that ass, whatcha say?” Dancing? Her eyes moved from him to the floor of moving bodies, the music pumping up through the soles of her strangely high shoes as she did so. Dance. She could do that. It wasn’t often she went out onto the floor with someone but it wasn’t unheard of for her to be out there. Music. Music beating in time with the bodies pressing to one another, to the bodies twirling and circling one another. Her chin turned further, looking back from where they’d come from and picking out the two figures there. Safe. Smoke. Smoke chased away the animals- kept them at bay. But smoke could turn.. Fire. Fire swallowed smoke and Illyana burned, Sparked behind her eyes and came alive. Adrienne could see, did see. The burning. The fire. Fire could extinguish smoke. Okay. Yes. Good. She nodded slightly to herself before turning back to Joel- her lips tilting even higher. “Kay.”

“Good good.” For agreeing to dancing? He was so strange. Odd. Different. Sometimes she questioned whether or not he was the crazy one. Had asked Evan on more than one occasion to loud laughter and the assurance that there was actually a reason he kept her around. Like a damned pet. She didn’t even look like any animal she could think of that would fit that description. She wasn’t particularly animalistic either. Well no more than any of the other humans in her acquaintance. Less so than many. Oh. He was moving. Moving. Moving. Moving. Away from her though and that was just unacceptable when he still had her promised product on him. Why was he walking aw--- her laugh was instant, choked in the back of her throat as he started moving his hips. To dance. She’d agreed. Yes. She was supposed to follow him. Something she could do. She could follow. She followed her professors in classes. She followed Evan to class. She followed well. She was good at following. Her feet were already moving to accomplish that very act, eyes drifting around the people she pressed between to do so. They were all so happy, so smiling and- her own lips tried to lift to copy one of the boys who she ducked between, stretching until it was almost painful and falling again the minute she was completely past. Didn’t his lips hurt? Didn’t he want to keep them? Hers felt as if they’d crack from just the momentary lifting and stretching like that- so wide. Wide. Crack and fall off. Her hand came up, fingers pressing into her bottom lip before falling again. No. She wanted her lips where they were. How strange she would look without them. Like the bottom of her face was an egg instead of a human’s head. She was human. Not egg. She was human. It wasn’t until he stopped that she looked back up at him, sliding fluidly into the place in front of him and cocking her head. She didn’t think she’d ever actually seen him dance. Was unsure over if he was even able. Over whether or not she’d need to carry the both of them through the movements. Lucidity. Dancing she was good at, was familiar. Was comforting. She could feel the music pumping in time with her blood- forcing her arms up, fingers of one hand curling around one of his shoulders for support, the other going to the opposite upper arm. Her movements were hindered though, eyebrows dipping as his hands … didn’t connect. Not touching her, but just over where her body was. Could he not dance after all? The rest of his body was moving though, mostly in time with the music- well enough for her to follow. Following again. Her eyes shifted down between them as if questioning whether it was something on the dress. She didn’t wear them normally, not like this, not even when she did dance out on the floor like this. Movement caught her attention, head rising once more just in time to see him pulling out baggies, tossing one back. New. She could see the different colors through the plastic, her eyes zeroing in on the pills he hadn’t consumed himself. Hers then. Hers that he was going to take as well? Brief confusion until his eyes crossed down- mind only barely noting that his hand was on her hip now, feet moving closer with the encouragement as she slid up to the balls of her feet- standing just tall enough for her lips to close around the base of the tongue he was holding out to her- pulling down until the tablets were in her own mouth- the tip of her tongue sliding between her lips as she felt the pills dissolve on her own tongue, eyes closing momentarily as her head rolled back onto her neck, shifting as she waited for the effects to kick in.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - we watch with wounded eyes - - - - - - - -
SO I HOPE YOU'LL RECOGNIZE
- - - - - - - i'm on the front line, don't worry, i'll be fine - - - - - - -

template made by !LIEBE IST FÜR RAMMSTEIN! @ caution 2.0! steal and you'll be eaten by cannibals

[Joel Foster]

“Alright babycakes” his hands pressed together, palms rubbing together lightly, not enough to create heat and certainly not enough to disrupt the filter pressed between his fingers, twirling his body around to look at the woman who had followed him over. She had been coming to see him by herself more and more often. “I brought you the usual, but my special patented Christmas blend,” he added a wink, ever present smile on his lips, like he just found the world a little more amusing than those around him, “It's really going to deck your halls babe.” his eyes moved to her dress, he had been right, she really did look like a girl today, no layers, her long hair wasn't covering herself as it normally did, he just didn't know where to tuck it. She didn't have pockets or a jacket, but he could see a few other, less appropriate places that he could tuck her order. “Another little sumtin sumtin for ya if you're feeling it,” of course she was, she always was up for something new, the colors would appeal to her as well. “It'll just cost you a dance,” it was the easiest way for him to give it to her anyway, the excuse to be touching her, “Handful of that ass,” he shrugged a little too playfully, because dancing was so obviously hands on. His eyebrows wiggling at her as his free hand dipped into his pocket for one of the few baggies pressed in there. He had been making the circuits, he only had about five samples left...his name was out there more than before. At this rate, he was going to have enough to get that apartment for after school. Which, was the whole point wasn't it. “Whatcha say?”

He didn't thinks he would accept, dancing meant touching, and touching never went well with her. She touched Evan often enough, but that was different. He couldn't even pretend that he understood anything about that relationship. Not even in the slightest, it had always just sort of...been. However it worked, it worked. “Good good,” his palms rubbed together, for heat before pulling out the rolled package he had for her and pushing it down the front of her dress, he knew she was good for it. He didn't even touch her with skin, he had been doing that a lot lately, pushing her boundaries. There was a very large part of him that wanted to prove to Evan he could sleep with her, just because Evan was always saying that he couldn't, that she wouldn't do that. Still, the smile on her face...sort of creeped him out. It was new, he didn't know what to do with her smiling, so he did what he had said that he would, reconsidered from grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the floor like he might have done with anybody else, and let his hips start to move before he got onto the floor, until he found a spot for the two of them, let Evan do whatever it was that he was going to do. His hands hovered over he waist as he moved, then over her hips until he decided that it was time, It wasn't until they were properly surrounded by bodies that he pulled two baggies from his pocket. He didn't normally do the harder stuff himself, but he needed to keep testing it, so why not, it was a party. Placing the combination on his tongue and swallowing, he pulled out a second and pushed both pieces onto his tongue, and turned to face her, eyes crossing down to his tongue for just a moment, waiting to see if she would take the bait. She had just seen him take the other dose after all. His hand moved to her hip, just one, just one side and pulled her closer, testing. She hadn't hit him yet anyway.

Dancing wasn't new for her, not really considering that he had seen her do it often enough. The arching and twirling of her fingers, he'd even seen her rolling around on the ground a few times high off her ass. Evan had said that she could dance, said it often enough that he knew it was true on some level. He might have even seen her dance a few times, he just couldn’t remember. Didn't really pay all that much attention to her whenever she wasn't close to him. Usually there were women with more exposed skin to leer at. Still, he was surprised whenever her hand moved to his shoulder and she started moving against him. Very surprised, but it was good. She had agreed to a dance, and that he would get a handful of ass at some point, which was better than nothing. Ass was ass. The two were part of the same sentence even. She was full of surprises tonight apparently given that she hadn't even tried to pluck the pills off of him with those weird fingers. His hands moved to hold more tightly to her hips as her head fell backward, laughing all the while until he was supporting her weight in his hands, holding her from falling backward totally. Apparently, it was some good shit. Which was exactly what he wanted to see, exactly the effect he wanted them to have. Everybody else that he had given them to, seemed to react in similar fashion at the very least.

[Adrienne Putilina]

ONE PUSH IS ALL YOU'LL NEED

- - - - - - - - a fist first philosophy - - - - - - - -

Tag: Evan, Sister, Joel Words: adsfasdfa Lyrics: Diamond Eyes - Shinedown 

Outfit: link Notes: notes here

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Round and round and round. Circles again, only this time it was her hips moving in them, her spine arching so that she could lean backwards, aware of the hands at her hips that were holding her upright. Upright? Yes. Mostly. Even if her brain felt like it was moving along with the music- pulsing in time now. Steady with the beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Like her heart- pounding in her chest. Her eyelids opened slowly, her head rotating on her neck forwards until she was once more vertical- corners of her lips curling upwards until her lips formed an uneven half-smile. Dancing. She loved dancing. She loved the way her body knew what to do even when her mind was otherwise occupied, like familiar steps one couldn’t quite knock out of the physical memory of her toes. Of the arches in her feet as the moved despite the strange leather bound wrappings that they wore. Her leg circled, circles, pushing between his as she rose to the tops of her toes curious now. She’d never seen him dance- not really, hadn’t ever paid much attention to him if he had been anyways. She lost track of people in the crowds, with her mind hazy as it was now- lost track of who and where- specifics she had difficulty grasping even on the best of days. Fingers moved up and over the plains of his front, readjusting herself until her face was parallel his own, not quite touching- close enough for the words to carry over the bass drumming around them. “Can you dance?” Actual dancing- moving across the floor. Not stationary. No birds dipping in and out of the water. Flying. She wanted to fly.

Scenes and jelly beans. The picture he painted danced behind her eyelids as she closed them, hips moving into a different rhythm entirely- matching the beat but more, always more- circling and twisting- hands closing around his torso and forcing him to move back some, to let her body bend forward slightly over him, twist and twirl away, her feet slapping the floor amidst the sound of her laughter- eyes opening wide back up as the feel of his hands recapturing her, spinning her back forced her head back on her neck, her hair brushing the center of her back as she moved easily back into place- lifted one leg to curl around the outer edge of his, foot pressing between his two as she reveled in the free feeling coursing through her blood. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free. Free like the birds in the sky, flying. Free like the notes of music that danced upon her skin- the light that balled above, around, inside of her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - we watch with wounded eyes - - - - - - - -
SO I HOPE YOU'LL RECOGNIZE
- - - - - - - i'm on the front line, don't worry, i'll be fine - - - - - - -

template made by !LIEBE IST FÜR RAMMSTEIN! @ caution 2.0! steal and you'll be eaten by cannibals

[Joel Foster]

She seemed like a whole other person like this, moving the way that she was, twirling around as she did. He knew only part of that was the drugs now in her system, he could feel them too but he wasn't loopy. Things always effected her differently. Even the say she held herself was different. Not that he was complaining with the way that her hips pushed into his, her body rolling so very visually as it was. Though, he wasn't really certain how he was supposed to take her face being so close to his. Had it been another woman, he would have thought that he would have been getting some tonight. But this girl, this odd, crazy thing pushing so closely to him, he didn't know what she was doing. His drugs weren't that good were they? Though, his hands slipped lower down her back regardless, he was male after all. “Can you dance?” Wasn't that what they had been doing this whole time? ”i'm better horizontal,” He laughed a little too loudly at his own joke. Finally shrugging his shoulders. ”i can keep up” his eyebrows lifting. “Let's make a scene, jellybean”

Dancing was totally not what Joel had come here for but he was happy with the development. Her hands were on him and even though it was certainly strange that she was touching him, was he supposed to touch her back? She was twirling, so oddly fluid with her movements, matching them as best as he could, twirling her slight frame back into his own person, she didn't have that same terse look on her face that she normally did, and this was different from the look she got on her face whenever she was high. He should know, he had seen it often enough, who knew that she was a dancer? Go figure. He was just going along with it, it was pretty nice.

[Evan Rosier]

i will break you inside out- you are mine, you are mine

HER HAIR HANGS IN SWOLLEN STRINGS !

She was a painted little thing- out of place even if she was trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t. Girls her age didn’t come to these parties- for good reason were rarely invited. Too much liquor and Joel flitting about and selling his stuff led to far fewer questions asked, ages ignored. Gray eyes moved from the toe of her heels up to the top of her head, measuring- assessing. She couldn’t be more than sixth year, if that- more than likely a fifth. Not Hufflepuff, she wasn’t sniveling near enough. Her eyes did that same thing her sister’s did, that shuttering the minute something interesting started to filter through them- she was better though. Better at being normal if in fact that particular brand of crazy that had just walked away was genetic. Was it an act or her brain. He almost leant forward, pushed his face down into hers to see her eyes- to see. Instead his eyes flicked from her body entirely again, back to the spot he’d turned his face from earlier. One of the players was missing- absent, and he felt himself somewhat more satisfied with the result. Not placated surely… but then, he had a new device to work on that with. Cigarette back up to his lips, pulling on the end as he looked back at her- waited for her eyes to raise to his. “konechno” Russian. Not surprising. He’d heard the older one go off often enough in it, muttering to herself when she thought her thought process was internalized. “If the conversation is worth it,” His lips twisted slightly, smirk not out of place as he nodded. “khorosho” His conversation was always worth it. “How old are you girl?” He wasn’t near inebriated enough to not ask the question yet- to not wonder, even if it didn’t actually matter in the end. His eyes tracked her reaction, her expression, flicking the edge of his cigarette to displace the ash that had gathered on the tip. ”How old do you think I am?” Games. She was trying to play them with the wrong person- in the wrong setting when she was clearly already uncomfortable, unused to it. This time his gaze was pointed, staring at the upper torso of her dress with a critical tilt to his eyes. “Twelve.” Fifteen. But she didn’t need to hear that, wouldn’t get him anywhere. ”How old should I be?” His gaze was more pleased this time, obviously so as his eyes rolled back to her face, corner of his mouth shifting upwards around the cylinder once more placed between it. “Old enough.”

“I'm old enough.” He snorted, letting his eyes glance back to her dubiously. She didn’t even know what she was supposedly old enough for, parroting him and trying to seem like she was something she wasn’t. She was trying so hard, acting well enough he was sure that if he hadn’t been watching half as closely as he had been he might have missed some of the more telling signs. “So you say girl,” was muttered out from around the edge of his cigarette, smoke filling out the corner of his lips that lifted to accommodate the words. Old enough. That was a decision left up to him- not her. But he wasn’t going to correct her on it. Not yet. “You were told my name, use it.” His eyes cut back to her with a short laugh- more amused than it might have been in different company as one hand rose to lower the cylindrical stick from between his lips, eyebrow raising sardonically as he took a half step closer to her. “Illyana Putilina- devushka. ili ne tak li?” He didn’t, on most occasions, like being told what to do. Didn’t like the arrogance that usually came with such demands. “If I call you girl, you take it. Da?”

The smoke filled the air in front of him again, cigarette dropping from his fingers to the floor between them, the toe of his boot closing the distance to grind it into the stone floor, eyes remaining constant on her own- narrowing slightly at the look that passed over her face. He didn’t like games. Didn’t like it when other people tried to play them anyways. So poorly adept at this, her face was too fresh- too new. He didn’t like the way her cheeks angled like that, or the way she moved her eyes over him like that. He was attractive. He was desirable. But she shouldn’t have been. He could have his pick from this room- from the girls even who walked past him on the arm of someone else. Could have reached out to pull the blonde passing just by his elbow and pulled her to him without causing too much complaint. He wasn’t stupid- wasn’t blind. And he was sure she could find any number of interested parties in this overcrowded room, be talked into any number of things that she wouldn’t be expecting. But she’d been led to him. Left with him. His eyes narrowed, watching the way her lips curved around her response. “Nyet.” Fierce, the way his muscles shifted beneath the flesh of his face. He could feel it, the tightening of his cheeks despite the smirk that curled up over his lips as she said it- it wasn’t a happy smirk. Not amused as it had been before. He didn’t get told no. Period. The fact that she was trying was almost as irritating as the eyes tracing his face. Almost. His words froze on his tongue though, eyes running appreciatively over the stick that had done his job for him, reprimanded the disobedience- his face relaxing even as she turned away from him. Not that she so much as took a step before his hand was at her forearm, fingers curling around it and hauling her easily back into the space that she’d tried vacating- closer to him even than she had been before as his freehand dipped into the pocket that her sister had so clumsily shoved his cigarettes back into, fishing them out even as he repositioned her in front of him- flicking his eyes up from where they’d fallen to his hands in a warning glance before dropping her arm. Crazy bitch didn’t even know how to smoke- flipping the lid and withdrawing another cigarette before pushing the box back down into his pocket once more, shifting it more appropriately. “Open your lips,” muttered as he placed it between his own- end sparking on its own as he inhaled, pulling until the cherry was red and removing it with his fingers. By the time he looked back to her face she still hadn’t complied, his hand coming up to curve around her chin, thumb pressing into her lower lip and pulling down until he could put the cigarette between them, pushing back up until the flesh closed over it. “Inhale.” Eyes narrowing slightly until she did his nod short as he watched her throat work. “Stop.” She’d been pulling too much in before, already the hand that had been at her chin sliding down, pushing over the muscles in her throat objectively. “Pull it in and hold it.”

 

BY MAX OF CAUTION 2.0, IMPERFECTIONS AND 

CREATING CHAOS.

[Illyana Putilina]

Her eyes didn't want to leave his face. She knew that they should have, knew that another woman, very like the sort of woman that she was pretending to be, would have been looking out over the crowd of bodies, looking bored. She knew that woman would have been off looking for her sister, not wasting her time here with this man. This tree man. This elm. Yet, her gaze might as well have been glued to him, the way her chin had to lift so high to stare at him, his eyes tilting downward to look at her “Illyana Putilina- devushka. ili ne tak li?” Yes, that was her name. He said it like it was something different, something magical, something that didn't even belong to her. If she had anything, she had her name. “If I call you girl, you take it. Da?” “Nyet,” her eyes dancing over his skin, over the smoke coming from his mouth. Oh, right, smoke. She was supposed to be smoking, lifting the thing back to her lips and inhaling too much, too deeply, and this time she couldn't stop the coughing that resulted. She had a whole two other comments lined up, good ones. But now, she was retreating, her lungs forcing the smoke back up as she turned her back to him to walk away. So much for that.

The fingers closing around her arm sent a rush through her. It wasn't that he was touching her, it wasn't even that he was handsome and touching her, it was that he wasn't allowing her to leave. She could feel heat pushing down to her toes. She had seen this before, knew that this was the part of the game where she was supposed to wrench her arm away and spit at him. Knew this was the part where she was supposed to demand that he not touch her again, and where he was supposed to not listen. She had seen this before, countless times. Wasn't supposed to of seen it, but she had. Wasn't supposed to of seen the way that her father threw their mother to the ground for not doing as told, for getting in the way. Wasn't supposed to have her hand balling up her dress as the sight of it. The affection he showed the other two was never gifted to her. Not once. Not so much as a glance. Certainly not the way that Evan had just stopped her. Her face was contorted in the best fury that she could summon as he turned her back around, pulling her closer, much closer than she should have been comfortable with. Was this her turn? Could somebody finally see her? She should have shrugged him off, that was her role, that was what she was shown to do, and she did nothing. She stood statue in front of him, gray and cold and hard. Her eyes lifting too high, too high, shouldn't see the sky that was his hair or the lines of his eyes and she was. “Open your lips,” Couldn't so much as move to see what he was doing, she should have been fighting. That was her roll, she was the doll and was dressed as such, she wasn't a very good one at that. Broken and forgotten. It was why her lips didn't part. She didn't want to be forgotten. She could be this girl. She wanted to be. She could learn. The smoke from his exhale burned her eyes and she didn't blink, ash in the air making her eyes water. Didn't comply until he gave her no choice, and she didn't fight him in his actions, her jaw lowering, to accept the fresh cigarette, her lips curling to pull it between her teeth gently, her hands loosely coiled at her sides. “Inhale.” Her lungs drug inward until they almost couldn't take any more, the urge to couch was mounting, burning. “Stop.” She could feel his pulse through the tips of her fingers against her neck, her eyes lifting, willing him to look at her, look into her eyes. She wasn't a ghost. She was a girl. “Pull it in and hold it.” So she did. She held it without moving, without exhaling, her eyes swimming as she fought to keep her cheeks from puffing out with the effort. Held it until her lungs burned, watching the reaction. Her hands finally lifted to his shirt, asking, silently, softly, her fingers twisting into the fabric just above his navel on either side, waiting to exhale, waiting for breath as her head started to feel light, fingertips tingling, body begging to stop, her eyes never leaving his. She was ghost no longer.

Her head was swimming, black little dots lining the corners of her vision. Everything was blurring little by little. The music was both more loud and softer than it had been at the same time. She was burning from the inside, her cheeks ached, her lungs burned and the desire to cough the contents of her lungs up was almost too much as she blinked carefully, pushing the moisture away from her eyes deliberately. “khoroshaya devochka, exhale.” Good girl. He had said she was a good girl. Most quickly than she should have, the smoke came out of her body and she sucked in a large gulp of dank air to replace it, her gaze moving back to his quickly, she felt...approved of. She didn't even remove her hands from his clothing right away. Her fingers pushing into her throat as she fought the urge to gag and sputter, her vision ever so slowly returning to normal. Swallowing painfully as her chin lifted, watching him move the cigarette back to his lips, so easy. He made it look so easy. Effortless, who knew how long he had been doing so, she didn't dare ask him. Didn't dare ask him anything at all. She didn’t' even want to ask him if he knew where her sister went, no doubt if she brought up her beautiful sister, he would stop looking at her. Everybody always did. “You hold,” her shoulders straightening slightly as his fingers tapped just above the line of her strapless dress. No man had ever touched her before. It was strange. Fingers on skin, not soft like a woman, not warning or pushing lotion against her skin as her sister had. Still, it was more gentle than when the hand at her throat would have suggested. “here.” Her hand lifted to take the cigarette, maneuvering her hand to hold it the way that he had. She could learn. Was always learning, always watching. Bringing the thing to her lips in spite of her throbbing insides she brought the smoke into her mouth, almost letting it fill her cheeks before swallowing, pushing it down into her lungs where she imagined that she could see it spiraling like within a basin and swirling she held it lifting the thing back to him “Here,” she breathed, smoke spilling from her body with the word.

[Evan Rosier]

i will break you inside out- you are mine, you are mine

HER HAIR HANGS IN SWOLLEN STRINGS !

No false curling of her lips, coy tilting of her chin or outpouring of flirtatious dialogue that he could have gone the entire night without trying to find a response to. No words at all, just tilting her head back, complying with the further indication that she should do so. No pulling back and creating a scene. He didn’t much care for ineffectual fists at his chest when there was little for him to do about it. For the most part he didn’t care for any of the derisory dramatics that females seemed to feel compelled to pull out and employ- they seemed to think it made them strong, at least in appearance- or that it was cute. There was a time and place for actions though, and certain one that could only be utilized in certain situations. None of which fit here and now. He could feel her eyes on his face, his own trained on the fingers still curled over the front of her throat, measuring the inhale she took- watching the muscles contract before he allowed his gaze to move upward- over her chin and lips, up the line of her nose until slate gray could track the very minimal shift in expression that she allowed to cross those muscles. Almost disciplined, her eyes holding steady even though he did nothing but pass over hers. Her cheeks were distended with the effort, something he could note absentmindedly as he waited for the sign he was looking for, fingers brushing up her throat the slightest bit as if measuring. It wasn’t until he felt the slightest shift in pressure at his shirt, dragging it down his torso slightly, that he looked up back to her eyes- hooded as he waited for her fingers to stop distorting the material of his clothing. “khoroshaya devochka, exhale.” Permission as the tips of his fingers pressed more firmly into the flesh beneath them, moving up over her throat along with the smoke she was exhaling with a mitigated delight at the acquiescence therein. His free hand brought the cigarette to his own lips, repeating the motion he’d just shown her before looking back to her speculatively. “You hold,” the fingers on her throat shifted, down over her torso and tapping three of them against the center of her chest, “here.” Before removing his hand from her person entirely. Holding the proffered cigarette out once more with a challenging set to his brow.

Pupils contracted slightly as they watched the muscles of her throat contract, following his direction once more with the cigarette placed between her lips. He didn’t normally bother, not like this- not with people who lacked such significance. Certainly he was more inclined to sit back further against a wall and watch as some novice choked and spluttered over the smoke she was trying to pretend she inhaled regularly. It didn’t stop him though, from helping explain the actions to her here and now- walk her through the motions without taking a step back even once he’d removed his hands from her, lips curling up into a smirk as the smoke gusted out from her lips with the repeated word. “Here.” Yes good. He nodded, pulling his hand up to his own face and running his index and thumb along his bottom lip, pressing into the skin before allowing his arm to drop once more. “Now again.” A nod at the cigarette before he moved his face, outward to the crowd with the assurance that she’d comply. He scanned it apathetically, passing over the familiar and unknown faces quickly and cataloguing- pausing with an amused smile at the forms moving somewhat off center from the pulse of bodies swaying to the music. So he’d gotten her to dance. If he’d wanted to touch her he could have started with that ages ago, something that he could have told Joel easily if he felt like it. Not that it mattered- either way he was likely to end up on his ass alone out there. Even if she did seem to be partaking in the newer product Joel was fencing tonight. His arm extended, hand curling around the girls’ opposite shoulder and pulling her body in front of his, his chest pressing into her shoulders just barely as he leant forward, free hand moving until his fingers could wrap around her chin- pull it until her face was in the same direction as his had been- no doubt seeing her sister as well. Didn’t siblings have that? The ability to find one another more quickly than those who weren’t related? Joel always seemed hyper aware of his brother’s whereabouts anyways- but that could be a twin thing. He waited a few moments before leaning further down until he was in her ear. “Do you see her?” Almost a rhetorical question as the idea that had hit him when he’d first laid eyes on Adrienne and Joel hit him again. “Do you want to try what she has?”

[12:36:34 AM] Aimee Collins: Evan liked having his directions questioned about as much as he liked having to remain somewhat contained until he graduated from this school, which was to say he didn't. Not at all. So the girl moving so compliantly, without question- following the direction that he was pointing her in without a murmur of protest, was gratifying. Even if she seemed somewhat more reluctant once she realized whose direction she was being pointed in, her body tensing against his- lines of rigidity so tangible he could almost see the face she was making despite the fact that his face was alongside hers- line of vision only capable of noting the raised set of her shoulders as she took the scene in. Did she not like her sister dancing with Joel? Or was it her sister dancing? Her sister in general maybe, she was bat shit crazy it made plenty of sense. Only it didn't feel like that, her shoulders rolling as if she was shrugging something off. At least he was offering her something else, something other than the vision she was currently looking at. He had his own objectives of course, but that wasn't currently the point. “I've had it,” False. The tenor of her voice came across bland, unnecessarily so, part still attempted to be played. He wasn't interested in her part though, or the stories she might have concocted in her head to make it feel more real- wasn't interested in explaining to her how he knew it was a false statement. “Don't lie devushka.” Joel was the only one who sold this sort of product, the only one who produced on that level in the castle at all. Evan should know, he was around him often enough, knew with a certainty that this girl wasn't one of Joel's clientele. Which meant she'd had nothing even half way similar to the pills in Evan's pocket. “Bored.” He didn't bother acknowledging the second lie, didn't bother acknowledging even her looking like she was going to pull away from him. The arm curled around her shoulders shifted, pulling her back before she could take a step away, his free hand dropping to dip into his pocket, fingers flipping through the plastic packaging with a studied ease, head dipping again until he could fee his breath ghosting back off of her cheekbone and into his face. “I bet, with the same reinforcement,” his hand came up, two pills held on the edge of his fingers in front of her mouth, “you could move better than she ever has.”

 

BY MAX OF CAUTION 2.0, IMPERFECTIONS AND 

CREATING CHAOS.

[Illyana Putilina]

Her body hurt. Left like she was having something...else. He didn't know how t explain the ache, the way her head was swimming from something other than oxygen deprivation. Her slightly watering eyes couldn't remove themselves from his. He was...so aesthetically pleasing. What was that called? Symmetrical, pretty? That didn't feel right. Whatever he was. He was it. In spades. Spades. Hm. Spades. Like a card. Suited him. She could have giggled. Spades, suited. This was what attention felt like. She liked it. Her jealously was being justified. “Now again.” Again? Her lungs didn't want to. But she did as was commanded. She inhaled again, but not as deeply, just before she wanted to start coughing. Her tongue felt a little fuzzy, and her throat was already aching. She wasn't sure why he had removed his hand from her, but she didn't fight it. Following his lead and slowly, somewhat reluctantly, pulling her hands from his shirt, removing them from him all together despite how close he was standing. She even tried to hold it within her body, knowing it would have been expected of her, pushing herself. She wasn't sure how she even knew that, she certainly didn't know him. Though, it was forced from her by the arm around her, pulling her tiny frame into his own and forcing the smoke out of her body in one huff. His arm was folded around her body, her gaze dropped to see his arm hair, the strange markings on the inside of his elbow just below the crease, until his hand stopped her, pulled her head in the direction she knew she should have fought. Shouldn't have allowed herself to be manipulated in this way but she didn't fight him. Like a doll. He wanted her to look at something, but she was inhaling again, her hand lifting to pull the cigarette from her lips and hold it between her two fingers. “Do you see her?” Her eyes lifted, she didn't want to see anybody. Jealously pulling at the corners of her body again, threatening to consume her as she spotted her sister. Of course he would seek her out. They always did, her perfect sister, moving so easily with the grace that she had tried so hard to emulate. She had tried. She was just as trained. Had been dancing for as long as she was able to. Just as disciplined but she just didn't have that same grace. She neither moved nor said a single word, made no sound as she watched her sister moving with...what was his name again? J, joel? Something. “Do you want to try what she has?” Her shoulder rolled defiantly. As much as it could under the weight of his arm. What did that even mean? She wanted to look up at him, lift her chin and see him but she didn't. Kept her eyes on the mass of moving bodies. Didn't matter that his skin was on her skin. Didn't matter at all. “I've had it,” she glanced down at the cigarette in her hand. He was going to know that was a lie. “Bored.” she lied easily, she didn't know if he would think it was a lie though and again she moved to pull away from him. Away from having to look at her sister. Away from those wanting to see Adri and not her.

“Don't lie devushka.” She wasn't sure why she liked hearing him speak so very much. She didn’t' get to hear her mother tongue get often here, apart from her sister of course. It was all that they spoke whenever they were alone, and she knew that there had to be others in the school that spoke Russian...not that she spoke to other people. Not that she would have wanted to hear them speaking back to her if she could help it...but this boy, interested her. Shouldn't. Should mean nothing, she would mean nothing to him. Obviously. Girls never meant anything to boys. Wasn't that the whole thing worked? He wasn't sure why he was trying to tell her the rules weren't the rules. She moved to step away from him...and his arm around her shoulders tighten, her stomach seemed to bottom out of her stomach and she froze against him, forced to stare out at her own sister and her effortless movements. She hated them. She trained just as hard, danced for just as many hours a day and had broken her feet in over and over again, wrecking herself to attain perfection, the only reason Adri was better was because she was older, because she had more years to have been practicing. That was the only reason. Her lips pulled tighter on her face. “I bet, with the same reinforcement , you could move better than she ever has.” Pills. She had seen Adri take pills all the time, her mother wouldn't even let her have aspirin...her eyes lifted to Evan, her body twisting without even thinking, her hand itching to rest on his chest, and she was curled into him all the same, her tiny frame only an inch away from his body and her large eyes lifted to his with a nod. Yes. She would dance. She would do as he asked. “Da,”

[Evan Rosier]

i will break you inside out- you are mine, you are mine

HER HAIR HANGS IN SWOLLEN STRINGS !

The younger one was… smaller almost. Slighter. Though he guessed it was less from natural build and more of the fact that she didn’t nourish herself correctly. But it was pleasing. To him anyways- the way her skin stretched just over the bone and sinew with very little between. Easier to break. Easier to twist. Quicker to bruise. Pleasing. Littler, the flare of her hips somewhat less than those of her sister- the way she filled out different entirely. And yet she was staring at Adrienne as though she was lacking something the elder wasn’t. Like the girl out on the floor that he was barely lifting his eyes to watch was somehow more than she appeared. Like she wasn’t the basket case that she so clearly was. Even now- with as much as she had in her system- with as potent a drug as she had no doubt been given- her body was moving with and against and yet still she held herself separate. Not quite molding into the form as she should have given circumstance. The little one was turned into him though, even when she tried to pretend she wasn’t- curving further into him with his words. So very different, that hand coming up without permission to touch him and his lips were curling, fingers holding the pills twisting them between the heated pads for a moment as he looked back down at the upturned face. “Da,” Verbalized. Another step, one noted and commented on only with the short, approving nod of his head. A jerky chin movement barely fitting the name before his arm was curling her further into his form with a bland look sweeping over the muscles beneath the skin of his face as her body shifted just enough to be flush with his- torsos held just only apart so that he could slide the hand holding the pills between them- twist one up into the curve of his palm as his hand ghosted down to her face- shifted until only his forefinger and thumb were balancing the smaller cylinder upon one end of the colorful fare. Twisted his wrist until it was pressed just there against the lowest swell of her bottom lip, ran the length over and back again twice between allowing just his thumb to press into the hollow behind the pursed things- twist until it connected with her tongue with a sensory reaction- sparking between the pad of his thumb and her muscle until he pulled it out, fist rising between them so he could press it into his own mouth without breaking eye contact, leftover traces disappearing from it into him.

Smaller sparks against his own tongue as he swept it out from between his own lips- smaller pill rolling down the curve of his thumb until it hit the line of his lips- twisting until it rested just between the crease of them beneath the upper bow.

He didn’t so much as look around them- or to the pair behind her that they’d been discussing only moments before- his spine curling down as he arched his neck, twisting his face to the side until his lips hovered just above hers, one eyebrow arching upwards in his otherwise immovable features before he tilted his head down the rest of the way- the hand that had been holding her shoulders flattening, elongating as it flowed down the lines of her back, pressed into the fabric and pushed until it was nestled in the curve the small of her back made leaning into him. Circled his other hand until it was at the parallel point on the other side, thumbs pressed just beneath the back of her jutting hipbones. Small. Fragile. His torso curved into hers, forcing her back to bend just that slightest bit more so that his face could fall over her own, pill rolling between his lips onto his teeth as he tilted himself above her- pressed the small object into her mouth without once ever allowing the pinkened flesh of his own to press into hers- no contact but for the slightest bit of air against his molars as he pulled his head back, rolled his shoulders as he straightened the both of them and took his eyes away from her entirely- back to the form moving on the floor. “At least. It should. The last bit is up to you.” As if he’d never paused in the conversation to begin with- look on his face as if it didn’t matter to him in the slightest either way- the tightness of his hands lessening as they moved up to her waist- adjusted her body so she wasn’t quite so tight against him as he moved- twisted both her body and his own until she was pushed under the crook of his arm- hand dangling over one of her shoulders with his fingers just barely not falling down the dip of her dress as he began walking- leaving her no choice but to follow along or be dragged in the process. “I’m assuming you can dance.” Bland. His head just only dipping down into her hair so that she could hear him over the thrum of the music that was only growing louder as they approached the moving mass of bodies.

 

BY MAX OF CAUTION 2.0, IMPERFECTIONS AND 

CREATING CHAOS.

[Illyana Putilina]

In the course of half an hour that she had been at this party, she had already been touched more than she had been in the culmination of the rest of her young life. It wasn't that she was adverse to touch, in the way that her sister was. She wasn't the sort of hiss and fluff her fur to get away from those that might want to be near her, just, none tended to want to be anywhere near her. Didn't attract attention because nobody wanted to look at her. She was different, strange. Those who did look, tended to do so as one might a stray dog, or a homeless person. Never for too long, and always out of the corner of ones eye. He was lifting now, this small capsule to her lips and she no longer had the choice – she didn't really think that she had in the first place. His warm fingers pushing against her lower lip and she lowered her jaw, only slightly. So fractionally that the pill pushed past her teeth on the way in. Forced, wider and her tongue just hardly tasted his fingertips. Like smoke and salt. Dirty, suddenly she felt very, very dirty and no doubt he could see it, crossing her eyes in the way she was tempted to bite him right then. The slight curl to her lip. Intimate. However that was possible, that was how it felt. Crackling and popping on her tongue, little explosions like the celebrations that he had never been allowed to watch back home. Dirty. Mother said. Wrong and dirty and for heathens. Heathens. She'd always wondered what a heathen was, she supposed they had to look a little something like this shadow. Or the curve to his nose. The set to his shoulders, those were things that heathens had. Temptations and yummy, popping fizzles.

Felt like her pupils had been replaced by glitter. Like everything was dilating and expanding too quickly around her, her grip on him tightened and she hadn't meant too. Fists were the mark of a desperate woman. Not desperate. Wasn't new. This wasn't new, he couldn't know. Shouldn't. She could see his pores. They were singing to her. He was looking at her, looking too firmly at her, staring too deeply. Was going to steal a part of her and the urge to run, to sashay and dance was growing wider within her. Movement to keep those eyes out of her. Couldn't be a game if he stole. Only, he had hands. She had forgotten that he had hands, the way the fingers elongated, nearly spanning the whole width of her back with their length, rounded out over her exposed shoulders. Dressed like a harlot but forgetting to act like one. He was so much closer to her now, and she didn't know what to do, her eyes still locked on his mouth, where the little explosions had gone to rest, her whole body was vibrating....her hands let go of his shirt, curling back toward her own body as she waited, not daring to breath as those little pops worked further into her system...his breath was on her lips...and lips were on her lips and she was frozen. A kiss, this was her very first kiss. No, only it wasn't. Because he wasn't actually touching her...only just removed. She couldn't even close her eyes. Pulled forward and she didn't give any objection, following where he led her. Her spine curving delicately and pushed forward by his grip. Bending with no trouble whatsoever, not even off balance the little ballerina twisted as he wanted her too, even so slightly backward, her chin finally lifting to fit his face better. The pill, back onto her tongue, and she might have been shaking from the intensity of, whatever it was. No wonder Adri did this, if this was drugs.

Her body was still twisted as he removed himself, talking and she couldn't even hear him. It didn't even occur to her to be angry, or indignant. “At least. It should. The last bit is up to you.” Like a doll she only moved when he moved her, because his hands were on her and somehow, that seemed right. Spinning without the awkward twist of the ankles that more girls tended to have whenever moved so suddenly. Hand wrapped on her dress now...and she wasn't sure how the conversation had halted, but apparently it had. Her heels shuffling in a way that showed just how unaccustomed to them she actually was as she followed, near knock knees behind him, her hands dropping because she knew how childish she must look. She had to stop. “I’m assuming you can dance.” She didn't answer at first, her torso rotating to look at the people around them, how little space she had to move, and it wasn't exactly in the same manner that her sister did. Wasn't accustomed to the same thing only because she had very little practice...her style didn't permit for the overt moving of the hips, but it looked easy enough. Her arms extended to the sides of her, pushing those closest away, and then she spun, in a circle, forcing the people away, and glaring at those who glared at her, because she didn't care, she needed space, any good dancer would. Her hands lifted above her head, rotating around one another until she got a feel for the music, her large eyes closing for the first time in awhile. Moving, swaying until her leg lifted a touch further than it should have in the dress, but she didn't think, that anybody would have been looking. Had she been in a dress of her choosing, it wouldn't have been an issue, but the perfect line from her hip of her leg above her head and lowering, spinning easily into his chest, and grinning, this was something comfortable. Every extension of her body felt like she was shooting fireworks up into the air.

[Adrienne Putilina]

ONE PUSH IS ALL YOU'LL NEED

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- - - - - - - - a fist first philosophy - - - - - - - -

Tag: Evan, Sister, Joel Words: adsfasdfa Lyrics: Diamond Eyes - Shinedown 

Outfit: link Notes: notes here

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

So light. Like the wind was moving her limbs all on its own with so little direction from her own brain space- up and over, twisting and turning, it was the easiest, all muted purple and phosphorescent emotion swirling around her as the tempo slid into her very pores. Hands, hands on the small of her back, pushing the fabric into her and she should have been twitching away from it, first time it had gotten so close, that laugh so loud all the time. Cackling. Ringing out over courtyards and through deserted corridors. False, colored false, manipulation. So much better at it than those that played their games in the houses, money lining his pockets and spilling forth from fingertips. Surrounded himself in smoke and like alike. Slid between factions and saw the faces above the hallways In the framework of the castle. Dangerous. But safe. Safe to her anyways, as safe as safe got- brought her the light when the darkness pressed too hard and looked at her like a woman-child not grown, meaningless, empty words and empty threat. It was easy, too easy, with the fizzing still on the edge of her tongue, making it light and up- up- up, she wasn’t even aware that she’d spun again until she was being pulled back to him, her face tilting up with a laugh too genuine to be trapped behind molars and flesh. No blood, her hands were clean. Her hands were clean and the air was moving under the soles of her too-high heels and she felt light. Felt it pulsing, felt it in the palms that were pressing into her and without thought she nodded, answering whatever unspoken question it was that hadn’t been voiced. So many voices. Dipping in and out between lyrics, pressing at her from all sides and she could just- block them out. With the hands and the drugs. The pretty, happy, little pills that had danced on her tongue and now danced through her- through her movements and she wanted to laugh again, so she did, teeth clicking back together with a wide grin as she bent her knees, sliding her body back up the frame of the one in front of her, her palms proceeding her and filing up his shoulders, curving over the tops, rounded- so round, not circles though no- edged sinew and muscle that wasn’t as bulky as- the comparison failed her mind as she pushed up on her toes, using the body in front of her as leverage before dropping more slowly than even she’d ascended. Pounding. Music and drugs through her system. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding. Fade, fade, fade- she lost count of the moves she executed, of the hands on her and of the noises around her, head tipping back as her lids closed over her eyes- kept the lights from pushing too much further into her and beaming her up- up- up.

Up. He was keeping up, the boy with the many names and the too loud laugh and always ready grin- words dripping off of his tongue and he wasn’t even saying anything. Impressed. Blue and effervescent it curled around her, the surprise that might have been accompanying it tucked somewhere neatly away in her brain. So many compartments and corridors it was hard to keep track. Twisting and turning. Mustn’t open the wrong one. Her hands slid down the forearms attached to her, slid over the hands as she twisted herself back around again with her head cocked to the side- movements stilling abruptly with the recognition of sweat gathering the base of her neck. Perspiration. Exertion. She didn’t produce such results easily or without long expanse of time and energy- the moisture lining her hairline giving her pause before she laughed again. Lost. Lost. Lost. She’d gotten lost. Pushed herself into the movements and immersed herself in the dance and she’d forgotten- something, something against the edge of her brain and she was still so very floaty but done- she was done, her spine extending to press lips into the bottom corner of a jaw with another too-wide grin in imitation of the boy-man before her as she broke from grasp with easily placed movements- spinning out of his arms as she backed away. “We’ll have to do this again later sugar pop,” her mouth popping the p in that strange, foreign manner- eerie rendition of the very voice she was speaking to- his words his tone before she spun about to walk away from him- two fingered salute over her shoulder as the thing pressing against her brain became more vivid. Smoke. She was looking for the smoke, obscuring the tiny little- sister, sister that was it. Had to go, the clock had struck the hour and the little girls were supposed to be back in bed before the mice returned, pumpkins popped. Popped. Where had she heard that? Girl whispers, too loud, the invaded her brain and gave her stories. Too many stories and not enough smoke, she couldn’t find the smoke and the haze with which she had been- oh.

So tall, too tall- broad and wide and- same thing? Same thing- up ahead with his arms wrapped around the little package and her head lolling and something niggled at the edge of her conscious, repentant blue and orange- guilt. Yes guilt. Danced the night away and lost her brain to her footing, allowed the lights and the beat the transfer her away from responsibility and the frown marring her face as she came up on the pair- too large eyes sliding to hers from the made up face on the shoulder making her head cock to the right in question- rumble of the voice, oh the talking- the talking the smoke was doing the talking at her and the obvious impatience in the tone had her turning her head up with question too. “Touched in the damn head.” Angry mutters. Ah the turning, her eyes narrowing as her hands were swatted away from the body she had meant to take. “You can barely carry your own weight crazy-girl much less this ones-“ Swinging the body up into his arms and something wasn’t right, didn’t sit with her in the same way but her head was being directed back up to him and away from the little sister so ensconced, rolling eyes and biting tone assuring normalcy. “Run and tell Joel I’m putting your damn charge back to her dorm, like a fucking babysitter.” More biting even, hands moving ineffectually in front of her figure- mouth still as if the words had done and dried within the well of her brain. Objection. It was there, tripping up her tongue but the hands were pushing- pushing back into the crowd with amorous bodies and loud music and she was dismissed, face still twisted in confusion at having been so in the first place. Smoke didn’t take interest in the quiet though, vault of secrets and memories tight closed in the little body. Didn’t like the calm and that was what she presented- little sister, calm on the outside. Not like he’d see the raging within, not like he could have already broken past mental barriers and concluded that therein there – no, no, no. Voices in her head only in hers and she was better off relaying message so that she could steal away to the tower- wind on her face--- there. She could almost feel it, whisper brush sweet as a lover again the planes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - we watch with wounded eyes - - - - - - - -
SO I HOPE YOU'LL RECOGNIZE
- - - - - - - i'm on the front line, don't worry, i'll be fine - - - - - - -

template made by !LIEBE IST FÜR RAMMSTEIN! @ caution 2.0! steal and you'll be eaten by cannibals

[Joel Foster]

Well then. He was going to have quite a lot to write down whenever he got back to the dorm as to the effects of this particular drug. Something he was definitely going to have to add into his party package. Color it, give it a name. Something official, and then tack an obscene price tag on it, of course. Nothing worth making couldn't be made for a nice little profit. With the way that this nut was actually acting almost sane, it was nothing to blink at, amusing. The way her body twisted and pushed into him – he almost, thought for a second that he might get to make good on the promise that he was always making to Evan and Muriel, maybe he would, finally, get that ass. Wasn't that an intimidating thing to think about, the battle between how the crazy ones were always the best in bed, and then again...her being crazy, and him being scared for his dick. He almost moved away from her face as it came at his, her lips pecking him on the corner of his jaw – surprised. Even with as floaty as he was himself, it was still surprising. “We’ll have to do this again later sugar pop,” Joel's hand reached forward to grab her but fingers fell short, maybe on purpose, he didn't know, laughter breaking out across his face in a grin that spanned from ear to ear. “Crazy.” He muttered shaking his head as she saluted him, walking away. Her body folding into the crowd around her almost as if she hadn't ever been there in the first place.

Joel kicked out absently in front of him in her wake. Shaking his head before he turned, folding himself into the people in the same basic manner of which she had just done, but his hands delving into his pockets and whispering into most of the ears that he passed, party favors. Making the rounds. Pushing coin into the deep of his pockets, he would be a good deal heavier before this night was over. In the good way, he hoped. He had sold just over half of the normal things that he had, and this...keeping the party going as much as he could, that was what he was good at, a skill he had cornered the market on. Sometimes, he almost wished that a competitor would try to come and pedal their shit at a party he was working. Make it more of a challenge. As it was he had it too easy, people were coming to him, and even if all his friends left, they were still going to be coming to him. Which, was how he spent the rest of the evening, before he snuck, super stealthily back to his dorm room, intent on sleeping through all of his classes.

[Evan Rosier]

i will break you inside out- you are mine, you are mine

HER HAIR HANGS IN SWOLLEN STRINGS !

Her reactions were so very damning, painting the innocence behind each half breath and muted, barely canceled impulse lurking behind those too-wide eyes. Closeted, he could feel the energy rolling off of her and transferring into his palms, trace each bated breath through her system with his eyes, deep pulls of breath and he doubted that she even understood just the edge she was teetering on in those heels that weren’t familiar to her frame. She was allowing herself to be pulled and twisted, fire behind her eyes- it was so very auspicious. Drawing him in- intentions that would burn her. Char the sweet, porcelain flesh if he were only so inclined. Placid held no draw for him, not the forms of subservient that were attempted to be lain at his feet in question- more than half scared of him and his actions and he liked it that way, liked the thrill of the fear on their lips, chasing desire back and forth with no clear indication of which one won out, although the always returned. They had their uses, painted girls and their wiles. The face before him was flush, red tingeing the cheeks as the drugs worked their way into her system and the slow curl of the right side of his lips couldn’t be tempered, watching- because he enjoyed it. Enjoyed, really, her presence since she’d been pulled up to him by the crazy one. Like an offering for sacrifice and he wasn’t about to turn her away. She had something inside of her, tethered deep and buried, singing out of her pores like a siren’s song only he could hear- she could feel it, though she was dancing back and forth on the edge of propriety. Trying to play at a game that she didn’t possess the rules or the experience for. Playing at the clothes that were so fitted to her body though she didn’t embody them. His eyes drug over her features as she looked around them, as if she weren’t quite sure of the answer to his question even though he really needn’t have asked it. Despite her unfamiliarity in the heels she had yet to fall, hadn’t slipped or lost her balance on her ankles no matter how he moved her about- had looked at her sister with such envy clouding her features as to tell so obviously what she didn’t voice. Hunger. It gnawed at her in such a visceral manner, opened her to his eyes and subtle handling.

Like the words offset something within her, ignited that secretive, small fuse which had been dormant, her body arched away from him, arms out to her sides and she spun- his smirk tilting up into an appreciative approval, lifting his eyebrows only to those who looked to him after her glare. Like he would corral or impede her. It only took a half look. The crazy girl with her arms spread and then to Evan, recognition following displeasure and forcing their forms to comply with her wishes. Freeing- the way she moved with no restriction. Chaos laden still in every perfectly executed twist, his eyes only leaving the lines of her face as her own closed, watching the way she shifted and fit into the beat around them without making any move himself towards her- eyebrows only shifting on his face when her leg lifted, dress just that much further up her thigh then would have been acceptable and had he been playing the role of babysitter as fervently as the с ума who’d charged him with such he might have looked around to see if it had garnered any other attention but his eyes were focused- following the hems descent back down her leg as she lowered it, hands moving lithely as she spun around back to him to catch her, settling on the slight flare on either side of her hips with a cocked brow as she tilted her face up to him. Fizzing, he could feel it- implementing itself into his bloodstream at such a slower pace than it had seemed to grab her. He had felt it building this whole time, buzzing in the back of his mind as he watched but it took that pull, the feel of the fabric under his fingers and the body pressing into his chest to start- imploding within him with the final aftershocks. “khoroshaya devochka,” rumbled low in his chest before his own feet began to move, not bothering to wait for her to pick back up and run the risk of her spinning away from him once more. Had he wanted to watch her dance he would have taken her somewhere else- lights flashing across her skin making her look fey in nature and he held her gaze, moving her hips with his hand as he pressed them back, his footing sliding, twisting between the both of hers as he twisted her back, one hand curling around her arm as he spun her this time out- tethering her with the hand around her before dragging her back to him just as sure, his spine bending to accommodate the move.

In and out. His fingers feathered, parted upon her hips as she picked up on the moves, moving seamlessly beneath his palms, without fault- and he’d been right, there, her hands moving in tandem and the crowd fading beyond their steps, her sister could never dance like this. Something he only managed to put into words as he found her shoulders against his chest, one hand pressed into her lower stomach, bunching the fabric as he leant his head down to the side of hers, lips against the shell of her ear. “безупречная, did I not tell you?” Insurmountable time passing between his hands over her and their bodies moving in synch to the mindless lyrics around them. It could have been seconds, or hours, Joel always delivered on that sort- the tactile feel of her body under his hands setting the heat coursing through his veins to all new heights. New, these were new, and he’d taken more than his fair share- bought and paid as it were, but it wasn’t until her flushed face was spun back to him, dilated pupils and drawn features moving up that he understood just how long and just how dosed they had been going- his lips parting to reveal the edges of his teeth as her torso sagged into his, fell on him as if he were the only thing holding her up and it was with only a few steps that he was pulling her back to the edge of the mass of bodies, back away from the crush and to the side as her lashes blinked- slow, too slow, like she was fighting to keep them open and looking up at him as if she could dissect his features. Well. His hands moved from the small of her back up, resting on the center as her head lolled, falling to his chest as if she were that much closer to losing the hold on consciousness she’d managed. Seconds, the flat of his palm running over one bare shoulder before falling back to her back again- marveling at the sparks transferred between flesh and watching- watching as the body moved over to them with her twisted features and reaching hands. He had seen her, earlier, hair weaving in and out of the bodies to reach them and he didn’t bother explaining the body sagging against his own as he pushed the hand away from the girl barely holding to her own feet. “Touched in the damn head.” Like she was going to take the little body on her own?

“You can barely carry your own weight crazy-girl much less this ones-“ And he wasn’t relinquishing her, though he ought to have. Too close to insinuating that he had any interest in the form at all and that wouldn’t do for the eldest to understand. His knees bent, arms shifting so that he could haul the barely there weight of her up into his arms, one arm behind her knees and the other wrapped still around her back. “Run and tell Joel I’m putting your damn charge back to her dorm, like a fucking babysitter.” His hands pushing against hers as they fluttered in front of her, rolling his eyes as she looked from the girl and back to him again as if he were leaving her any choice. He could argue with her. Easily. Could probably last until he lost his temper enough and it was close, simmering beneath the surface, gilded and dark and he didn’t bother with the temptation, one hand going roughly to her shoulder and spinning her about with another rough shove of his hand against her back before shifting the weight in his arms enough to turn, dismissing the dazed expression of the boy who’d been standing off to the side with a sneer of his lips and sure steps away from all of the noise. Party not even half over, especially not considering the return of crazy meant Joel was back to peddling. One that would, very likely, last until the early hours of the next morning. He could, conceivably, put the girl back in her dorm and make it back in time to conclude it with the rest of the crowd. The interest for him wasn’t there though, eyes lifting in time to see the portrait in front of him and with a none-too-careful shake and well placed question the mumble from his burden had it swinging inward, another few mumbles having him move in the right direction. It wasn’t until they came to a stop that the head on his chest attempted to move, falling back again as if the weight were too much and he grunted, dropping her without caution and waiting until her form stilled again to lower himself, hands at her ankles and removing the heels from her feet before looming over her, staring into her dazed, barely open eyes for a moment before nodding, fingers in his pocket before he withdrew the carton, her eyes closing as he placed it on the pillow next to her head and rerighted himself, turning away from the bed without a backwards glance. Though had anyone been awake to observe it, his lips were turned up at one corner, hooded eyes lit.

 

BY MAX OF CAUTION 2.0, IMPERFECTIONS AND 

CREATING CHAOS.

[Illyana Putilina]

Illyana had been blessed with very good balance, and equally strong ankles. She had been dancing for most of her life – ballet. Only ballet. It was the only thing that she had ever been allowed to do. Only thing that was less of a sin than the other dances of similar nature. Trained. Hours a day, her body was a direct result of it, the litheness with which she moved – even when walking showed some manner of elegance. No matter how much she folded in on herself. No matter the situation. Sometimes, though, she did try to show it a little more. Such as dancing with a boy like this. A boy who wanted to dance with her. Who kept calling her a good girl, and even though she wasn't really all that certain that it was a good thing to be called, not by the likes of him, she was fond of the way he said it anyway. Even more with this – whatever drug this was, that was now taking hold of her system. She felt like she was flying, like everything was effortless now. Inhibitions be gone. Touching her a lot too much, she had never been touched before – had never been allowed to be touched by anybody other than the cruel hand of her mother, or the seldom embrace of her sister. Never by man. Not to her memory and now, his touch was so frequent on her skin. The encouragement that she had been so craving, so desperate for, for as long as she could remember, given so freely from this man, whispering....or maybe shouting against her ear. Had the room not been so hot, had there not been other people here, she would have thought this was another one of her dreams, her delusions that she had always wanted to crawl inside and live in. No idea, no sense of time now, only hands on her, only the dress against her skin, the air on her skin, the feelings...too many feelings, too many sensations wrapping a hold of her and tightening. Squeezing, scary but okay. Scary but she could handle. She was a big girl. She could...she could.

But then the room was no more.

The dancing had consumed her, it would seem. She could remember flashes of heat, and firmer grips on her body, and the blinking lights, clips of music all seem like through a veil. What had happened? Why wasn't she dancing anymore? The fizzing had dulled to a dim popping...come back fizzy...come back. She felt like she was moving...but she was slipping in and out of consciousness, and the being around her...air, space, things, all were still and quiet. Sadly, her skin felt like her own again as she rolled...though the motion made her stomach want to roil. A plethora of new experiences, it would seem. Her face pressing into something sharp and hard...her brow scrunching, make up smeared all over the sides of her face, though, if she could have seen it, she would have thought that it looked better this way than it had before, her hand moving to dislodge whatever it was....a box. Her eye peeked open, a box. Yes. A box with words...flip top...oh. Her eyes opened more – still groggy in the stillness that was the closed square of her bed, fingers wrapping around the carton, not even registering that her heels were now missing as she curled her tiny frame around the even smaller box, bringing the thing to her chest and closing the area around it in darkness with her body, and fell back asleep.