Mar. 5th, 2007

TM: Party

Mar. 5th, 2007 03:20 pm
alainn_aislinn: (lost)
The music made her head hurt, but not nearly as much as the smoke in the air from cigarettes and joints, and she was fairly certain that she detected a whiff of opium in the mix as well. She shouldn't be here, and the knowledge of it slid along her nerves with a simple surety. She didn't belong here.

But he was here, her rockstar poet, buried on the couch beneath a pile of limbs and blonde hair and red curls that were failing to mask what the person, impossible to tell if it was male or female, was doing to him with their far too perfect to be fully human mouth. He was here, and so, then, was she, because when he got like this, he vibrated, and if she waited for him to get home, away from the clowns and hanger-ons, then she wouldn't get the sweetest taste of that energy.

More bored than interested, she took a hit off of joint that was being passed and let someone who thought she was someone else do things that would have shocked Fergus that she allowed. She was too numb to care where the creature's hands wandered, watching him over its shoulder, eyes fixated, until there.

There was the moment, the instant when it all hit him and he melted away, and it and its hands couldn't touch her, because she slid into him, in through that open door where he dreamt in esctasy and delight that washed every sordid moment away until she felt clean and renewed again.

For a little while, everything was all right again. They never died. She never cried. There was light and there was music and joy once more. And she danced.

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alainn_aislinn

December 2007

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