The City Of Lust and Liberation (original) (raw)

	The Rose Island

Single Winged Angel	[19 Aug 2006\|06:04pm]
Return to solid ground was made with only moderately more alleviated feelings then her trip on the feriswheel had been. She had a headache and felt distinctly nauseous, not all caused by the whirling motion of the ride, but her tiara had been rightened again and her features where a mask of haunt nonchalance. Small and more elegantly appareled then the jean and t-shirted individuals of Mayhem, she was dwarfed by the stream of people that moved between the pathways of the rides and game booths, standing apart from that shifting group the way a moth would from a storm of butterflies. Instead she was a figure of crimson against near the food stands that had begun to close down for the night. “Got the time?” The voice was male and oiled, the slide of sewer water in the drain. ( And She Falls From Grace --cut for sexual content Collapse )
2 Lost Their Voice \| Whisper

Single Winged Angel

[19 Aug 2006|06:04pm]

Return to solid ground was made with only moderately more alleviated feelings then her trip on the feriswheel had been. She had a headache and felt distinctly nauseous, not all caused by the whirling motion of the ride, but her tiara had been rightened again and her features where a mask of haunt nonchalance. Small and more elegantly appareled then the jean and t-shirted individuals of Mayhem, she was dwarfed by the stream of people that moved between the pathways of the rides and game booths, standing apart from that shifting group the way a moth would from a storm of butterflies. Instead she was a figure of crimson against near the food stands that had begun to close down for the night. “Got the time?” The voice was male and oiled, the slide of sewer water in the drain. ( And She Falls From Grace --cut for sexual content Collapse )

2 Lost Their Voice | Whisper

	[27 Jun 2006\|10:48pm]
The feriswheel flamed in the distance and Nanami leaned against the window as she watched it rotate, a crimson axis against the inky black of the sky. Crimson._“Your not planning to like…pitch yourself off the roller coaster or anything, are you?_Nanami spared enough time from her own misery to give ran a quizzical look. “Excuse me?”( Play and Break My Heart Collapse )
4 Lost Their Voice \| Whisper

Turquoise and Azure: a match made in hell.	[14 Jun 2006\|06:43pm]
Chigusa's shoulders twitched at the touch of the fabric, but she instinctively pulled it around her anyway; her body's chill overrrode her fight or flight instinct for the moment at hand. She gazed at the stranger who had draped his jacket around her, and fingered the material; it was soft but sturdy, and felt at least moderately expensive. "How do you know my name?" she asked, but as seems to occur at the worst possible moments, she realized the answer as soon as the question had escaped her lips. Everyone seemed to know her in this city; at least, those who mucked about the Club did. And now that she thought about it, she thought she remembered seeing his distinctive hair, like an ocean's wave, among the faceless patrons once or twice. Maybe it was confabulation, but she thought not."You must frequent Club Ohtori, to know who I am. I think I remember seeing you there, but I don't have any idea as to what your name is. You must not know me too well, though, or you wouldn't presume me to be a damsel in distress. I had a run-in with a sprinkler malfunction. That was probably Kiryuu-san's fault...it always seems to be his fault when those damn things go off." Chigusa hadn't seen Touga all too often; he kept to himself much of the time, but she had heard Miki and Jury discussing his 'activities' more than once."In any case, thank you for the use of your coat. I'm sure you're not the only man--or woman, for that matter--to see me wet and appreciate it. I'm also sure you're one of the only men who has gotten away with touching me while I'm still technically on my shift...Arisugawa-san doesn't like men touching 'her girls.'" She laughed at this and took another sip of her drink. "I'm also sure she won't like the fact that I walked out before my final number, but there's plenty of people to fill my slot. She'll get over it. Enough about those people and their feelings..." she smoothed a water-limped curl back over her shoulder and gazed shrewdly at her sudden companion, her voice sharp but not unkind, with a lilt of humor. "Tell me about yourself, O Wandering Prince."
Whisper

Turquoise and Azure: a match made in hell.

[14 Jun 2006|06:43pm]

Chigusa's shoulders twitched at the touch of the fabric, but she instinctively pulled it around her anyway; her body's chill overrrode her fight or flight instinct for the moment at hand. She gazed at the stranger who had draped his jacket around her, and fingered the material; it was soft but sturdy, and felt at least moderately expensive. "How do you know my name?" she asked, but as seems to occur at the worst possible moments, she realized the answer as soon as the question had escaped her lips. Everyone seemed to know her in this city; at least, those who mucked about the Club did. And now that she thought about it, she thought she remembered seeing his distinctive hair, like an ocean's wave, among the faceless patrons once or twice. Maybe it was confabulation, but she thought not."You must frequent Club Ohtori, to know who I am. I think I remember seeing you there, but I don't have any idea as to what your name is. You must not know me too well, though, or you wouldn't presume me to be a damsel in distress. I had a run-in with a sprinkler malfunction. That was probably Kiryuu-san's fault...it always seems to be his fault when those damn things go off." Chigusa hadn't seen Touga all too often; he kept to himself much of the time, but she had heard Miki and Jury discussing his 'activities' more than once."In any case, thank you for the use of your coat. I'm sure you're not the only man--or woman, for that matter--to see me wet and appreciate it. I'm also sure you're one of the only men who has gotten away with touching me while I'm still technically on my shift...Arisugawa-san doesn't like men touching 'her girls.'" She laughed at this and took another sip of her drink. "I'm also sure she won't like the fact that I walked out before my final number, but there's plenty of people to fill my slot. She'll get over it. Enough about those people and their feelings..." she smoothed a water-limped curl back over her shoulder and gazed shrewdly at her sudden companion, her voice sharp but not unkind, with a lilt of humor. "Tell me about yourself, O Wandering Prince."

Whisper

Coffeeshop Blues (awaiting the azure shadow)	[13 Jun 2006\|04:13pm]
She had been sitting at the bar, deep in thought; so surrounded by corruption she was practically bathing in it, sipping it thoughtfully like a fine wine before tipping the bottle higher and guzzling it like cheap beer. There were so many around her, those people with power, who deserved a reality check. People who needed to learn that the little people can move of their own accord when nobody is looking; that sometimes, when the stars and tides are right and no-one is suspecting, a simple chess pawn can crown herself queen.And that's when the sprinklers came on.She was so surprised that she had cried out like a little girl, something she hadn't done in years. When the shock had cleared, anger had set in; surely she was about to stumble upon some acid-coated revelation before the watery interruption. So she snapped at the bartender to put her drinks on her tab, brushed droplets from her stage outfit (pure silk, now utterly ruined!), and walked out the door without so much as changing into street clothes or notifying her boss.Now she walked one of Setebos City's many sidewalks, (baraely) clothed in dripping purple silk and shivering in the night air. Her getup got her a few looks, but not many; this was a city of sin, after all. It was exactly what she wanted.The sudden scent of fresh-ground coffee beans assaulted her nostrils, and she pushed open the closest door without looking. Not surprised to find herself in a coffee shop, she plunked a few bills down on the counter and demanded a large cup of the strongest, blackest stuff they made.She hated the taste of coffee; it was bitter and chalky, and she laughed at those people who called themselves connoisseurs of the muddy stuff. But when she needed a little boost towards sobering up, she found it was always the stuff you hated the most that snapped you back towards reality.There she sat, at one of those little round tables pretentious coffeeshops seem to have, nursing a hot cup of bitterness and taking the occasional sip.And ~~as always~~ once again, she was alone.
1 Lost Their Voice \| Whisper

Coffeeshop Blues (awaiting the azure shadow)

[13 Jun 2006|04:13pm]

She had been sitting at the bar, deep in thought; so surrounded by corruption she was practically bathing in it, sipping it thoughtfully like a fine wine before tipping the bottle higher and guzzling it like cheap beer. There were so many around her, those people with power, who deserved a reality check. People who needed to learn that the little people can move of their own accord when nobody is looking; that sometimes, when the stars and tides are right and no-one is suspecting, a simple chess pawn can crown herself queen.And that's when the sprinklers came on.She was so surprised that she had cried out like a little girl, something she hadn't done in years. When the shock had cleared, anger had set in; surely she was about to stumble upon some acid-coated revelation before the watery interruption. So she snapped at the bartender to put her drinks on her tab, brushed droplets from her stage outfit (pure silk, now utterly ruined!), and walked out the door without so much as changing into street clothes or notifying her boss.Now she walked one of Setebos City's many sidewalks, (baraely) clothed in dripping purple silk and shivering in the night air. Her getup got her a few looks, but not many; this was a city of sin, after all. It was exactly what she wanted.The sudden scent of fresh-ground coffee beans assaulted her nostrils, and she pushed open the closest door without looking. Not surprised to find herself in a coffee shop, she plunked a few bills down on the counter and demanded a large cup of the strongest, blackest stuff they made.She hated the taste of coffee; it was bitter and chalky, and she laughed at those people who called themselves connoisseurs of the muddy stuff. But when she needed a little boost towards sobering up, she found it was always the stuff you hated the most that snapped you back towards reality.There she sat, at one of those little round tables pretentious coffeeshops seem to have, nursing a hot cup of bitterness and taking the occasional sip.And ~~as always~~ once again, she was alone.

1 Lost Their Voice | Whisper

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