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Post by Deleted on Feb 19, 2014 22:24:35 GMT
NICO PÉRRIT
so you say 'yeah i'm all right'
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bringing neon to its knees She is a butterfly, all bright colors and quick movements. Her feet never rest for more than a second, and when they do, it is perched on the tips of her toes. Glass windows catch her reflection and throw it back like a glitter of light. Shadows stand at the center of her prism, a swatch of dark hair and eyes watching her, but she never strays far. It’s too early yet. A week is not enough to forget, but bandaid kisses help the healing.
A FRAGILE: Handle with Care sticker might do her some good, but butterflies die if you touch their wings, so that is out of the question. In the months that Nico has been away, her hair has grown, and she lets it swing freely as she flits from stall to stall and window to window. Shell-pink strands tease the flush on her cheeks, and the smile has almost returned to her face when she flounces back to Dusk. Her lips purse pleasantly around the pearl of a gourmet lollipop, and she carries a second in her hand. Lolling her head to the side, she offers the untouched lollipop to her young male companion and pops her own out of her mouth.
“Is something the matter?” |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2014 6:53:40 GMT
@nico | GLORY AND GORE GO HAND IN HAND It was Valentines. Or it was. He wasn't sure, he didn't own a calender or a clock. He told the time by catching glimpses of it on billboards or passing by CLOSED signs. Mostly he just looked outside and guessed. Life didn't have a structure for Dusk and holidays held no meaning. The sun rose and set just the same no matter what day it was. It seemed like Nico thought that too. She didn't care much about numbers, she just let the days flow past her like water. It had been a week since the amusement park. A week since their first... kiss.
He could feel his cheeks redden slightly just thinking about it. He had just felt like leaving the hotel today. Nico was driving him up walls like always, doing crazy shit, and she seemed to have forgone the wearing of pants, much to his embarrassment. She led, as always, constantly flying around in front of him, and he watched. They ended up window shopping downtown. Quite literally, because Nico loved to stare at the window displays and not much else. Her reflection was a lot brighter than his own. When they went to the candy shop the clerk told them to have a happy Valentines. So that was how he knew.
She shoved her lollipop into his face. She did things like that a lot. It smelled like root beer. He knew that she would just keep shoving until it eventually found it's way into his mouth whether he argued or not. So he argued. "I don't like root beer. I like real beer." And then he relented. "But I know you don't care, you stupid brat." And then he took the lollipop in his hand, examined it for saliva, and stuck it in his mouth. It wasn't half bad, but he wasn't about to admit it.
She asked him something weird. Something that he didn't hear a lot. Dusk sucked on his lollipop whiled he formulated an answer. "I just don't like shopping." He answered simply, but his eyes wandered. All around them there were other couples doing stupid crap like holding hands and giggling about nothing. Someone was even trying to eat the ice cream out of their girlfriend's mouth. It made him slightly nauseous. The sun was setting. He wanted to get off the streets.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2014 19:04:48 GMT
NICO PÉRRIT
so you say 'yeah i'm all right'
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bringing neon to its knees “Beer is gross,” the pinkette says, wrinkling her nose. “Root beer is much better. Besides, they didn’t have that flavor at the candy store!”
Beer-flavored candy is just a silly idea, anyway. Who would want something like that? Probably only stupid Dusk and his stupid dislike of candy; he was always trying to throw hers out! When he calls her a brat, Nico puffs her cheeks out and crosses her arm in a pout.
“I am not a brat! I’m twenty years old!” she says, but she certainly doesn’t act like it, turning sharply on her heel from him and flouncing away down the street.
That route of transit only brings her face to face with a mass of couples wandering down the streets. Her bouncing slows, watching the held hands and kissing lips pass her by until she is standing alone in a crowd of lovers and sweethearts. Hesitation takes a pin to the heart-shaped balloon in her chest, and she drops her arms limply to her sides. One hand finds its way to her lips, and she presses her knuckles to her mouth. Turning about in a slow circle, she looks for the mop of black hair she came here with, her brows drawn together. When she sees him, she hurries back to his side and slips her hand into his, beginning to tug him down a side street.
“I, uhm, saw something this way,” she says. “We don’t have to shop anymore if you don’t want to.”
Her ‘something’ turns out to be a brilliant neon sign proclaiming “The Fortunate”. Bass beats thrum from out the door, and a man in all black stands just outside. Nico wants to ask him why he’s wearing sunglasses in the dark, but instead she slips her way between his crossed arms and the doorframe, pulling Dusk inside with her. Heady scents of alcohol and perfume hang like ambrosial fog over a mass of dancing bodies and flashing lights. On velvet couches and in corners, couples are no longer holding hands but holding bodies. All ignored, Nico drags her companion out onto the dance floor and lets the heat press them closer. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2014 5:40:23 GMT
She ran off somewhere in a fuss, but he was very careful not to let her pink head out of sight this time. He'd almost gotten a heart attack the first time, he was not about to let that happen again. He was about to call her back when she stopped curiously in the middle of a crowd. He sighed. She'd noticed it too. Couples everywhere. Couples that maybe didn't behave the way they did. He sucked absently on his lollipop. He didn't really know how to be in a relationship. Even watching people in relationships made him uncomfortable. His sister sometimes watched romance movies in their old house. It was for good reason that he never watched them too. The touching, the kissing, the talking. It made him feel out of his skin. Dusk was never a lover, always a fighter.
The way she touches her lips and turns around doesn't escape him. He might be a brute but he wasn't an idiot. His hand suddenly found itself clasped with hers. The sensation made his skin prickle. He didn't know where she was taking them, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn't like it. And he was right. Somehow they end up at the Fortunate- a flipping nightclub, and even more bewilderingly the bouncer just let them shoulder through. No ID, nothing. He glanced at Nico. If it were him, he probably wouldn't have believed it even she had given him proof. He could have pulled away. He didn't like clubs, after all. He didn't like couples making out in booths over spilled vodka shots and the tinge of shame. But he didn't. He felt as if he wanted to try to make her... happy.
They find themselves on the dance floor, strobe lights turning her hair shades of blue, purple, green. It's not so late yet, so there aren't a lot of people around. They have space to themselves. Dusk feels his body temperature rising as their bodies naturally press closer together to the rhythm of some house track. They were probably saving the "romantic" beats for later in the night. He tries to ignore the blush creeping through his body. Now that they're finally stationary, he finds the time to continue their talk. "I bet they don't have any root beer here." He remarks, noting the quickly shrinking size of the lollipop in his mouth. He had to talk right into her ear. It was an unusual thing. He liked to think that falling asleep on the couch together was different than.. this. They were in public, for one. Standing up. Pressed close by something stronger than consciousness or gravity. It was as if the atmosphere at this club was magnetic.
"You'll always be a brat though, Nico." He laughed. His arms lay lamely at his sides. He gave himself a moment to look around. Everybody else was wrapped together like they were octopi. Dusk didn't want to admit that he kind of shy. So instead of dealing with it sober, he grabbed Nico's hands and led her off the dance floor and towards the bar. It was a narrow evasion tactic, but at least it wasn't as awkward as he would have been, fumbling around the dance floor. "Let's go order something. You can get whatever drinks you like." If he sounded nervous, it was because he was. His blood ran through his veins as if it were electrified. Maybe it was the lights. Maybe it was Nico. | INTO DUST
WE GO,
HAIR GUM DIRT & SNOW
@nico |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2014 16:35:55 GMT
NICO PÉRRIT
so you say 'yeah i'm all right'
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bringing neon to its knees Music pounds through the floor and up into her bones, the bass and the percussion quivering through her skin and back out into the air as her breath. Nico shuts her eyes and sways to the music. Dusk is close beside her; his breath feels warm against her ear and smells of root beer and makes her smile. The warm, sugary scent lends the flashing lights a carousel—like innocence, soft and candy-colored as they shine through her hair. She wants to lean back into the firmness of his chest behind her, but his hand takes hers and pulls; she almost falls, caught off balance. Her answer is swallowed by a gasp and the crowd. Her nose wrinkles as they approach the bar; she had never really liked alcohol. Just the smell brought back too many memories of makeshift stints of emergency first-aid, whiskey down her throat and her wounds, burning the whole way like the hell she’d created. Already, her stomach is beginning to swim with nausea at the remembrance, but the bartender slides a strawberry daiquiri her way and motions for her to have a drink. Almost self consciously, she picks it up and tastes it; not half bad, all sugar and sweet, and Dusk is laughing so things must be fine. “I’d rather dance,” she says, and sets her drink next to his. She knows she ought to do something now, like hug him or kiss his cheek or his lips, but she doesn’t know how. So she does the only thing she does know how. Popping his lollipop out of his mouth, she smiles at him and puts it in her mouth, having long ago finished hers. Then, with a wave and a swirl of color, she scampers back into the crowd, brighter than the neon itself. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2014 3:28:39 GMT
He pays the tender with his crumpled bills, not forgetting to tip. At least she likes it, he thinks as he looks over at her. He gets whiskey on the rocks for himself and downs it all while she's taking her first sip. He's in the middle of getting it refilled when she speaks up. And then she's gone into the crowd, pink hair fluttering behind her like she's some sort of superhero. It makes him want to clip her wings and keep her close. He's aware of the fact that she can bounce away at any time. Almost too aware. It makes him possessive. He downs his second whiskey and tosses a tenner on the counter before chasing after her. He will probably chase her forever. He's okay with that.
He barely noticed that she'd stolen his lollipop, the faint taste of whiskey and root beer melding on his tongue. He was getting the feeling that Nico was trying to tell him something, maybe. His thoughts were quickly melding. His nerves calmer. He caught up to the pinkette at last, squarely centered on the dance floor and moving to the rhythm. She looked out of place in a crowd of high heels and black dresses, but the strobe lights bouncing off her hair made it seem as if she were a part of the dance floor itself.
"You seem to have something of mine." He muttered as he closed on her. His inhibitions melted away with the cheap whiskey burning a hole in his throat. He swooped her up by the waist and hugged her. The lights looked like fireworks in his eyes. A haze settled over everything but the girl in front of him. | INTO DUSK
WE GO,
HAIR GUM DIRT & SNOW
@nico |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2014 4:04:43 GMT
nico pérrit @dusk 305 words after the disco, all of the shine just faded away all of the shine just faded away Nico hadn’t really known what to do when Dusk took her to the bar. It had been his scene, not hers, all beer-washed wood and cheap pleather bar stools with rusting legs. She wanted him to be happy, though, so she’d let him stay. It feels strange without him, but the music sweeps her away without any time to process and back come crashing the bodies around her. Hundreds of faces she doesn’t know replace his shaggy black hair and those coal-like eyes that watch her so closely. Hands on her hips and arms pass her around until the movement makes her dizzy. The bright lights and sensory input suddenly…are too much. She feels sick.
A stranger’s hands hold her hips to theirs, and she squirms against them. Beer-soaked lips breathe heavily in her ear. She shuts her eyes and pushes—this isn’t fun anymore. The man holding her takes Dusk’s lollipop and puts it in his mouth. Nico gives a noise of frustration and shoves him again, this time breaking free. In turning, she slams into another chest, but a voice speaks seconds from her hands colliding with this new intruder’s sternum, and she pauses.
“Dusk?” But he’s got her picked up now, and the pulsing shocks quivering through her waist aren’t from the music anymore. “Dusk,” she sighs, his name cleansing her palate with the taste of relief.
Before she knows what she’s doing, she has her hands in his hair and her lips on his mouth. Like a rain after a drought, she slants her mouth over his and draws a slow, cautious kiss from him, bringing something softer and newer to the surface. She lets out a little noise and tucks in close, tangling her fingers in his hair and the collar of his shirt. He tastes like home. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2014 1:06:32 GMT
It's not the hello he expected but he'd take it any day. It hadn't escaped him that another guy had been standing too close to Nico but he soon forgot all about it after her root beer flavored lips collided with his own. The alcohol coursing in his veins and the strobe lights raining down on them fueled his answering kiss with a tinge of aggression, a dash of possession. Her hands are all over him, her fingerprints making a home on his collarbones. As much as he'd like to mark her she's already gotten a head start. It makes him wonder what this is. The question burns in his mind as he slips his arms around her waist and lifts her off the ground. She weighs as much as she looks- slight. They must have been wrapped around each other for an age, whiskey and sugar meeting like a cocktail. He broke apart from her, out of breath, hair sticking to his forehead- "I think we should get outta here." He breathed close to her ear, grasping for her hands before she even had a chance to answer properly.
Somehow they make their way outside after the heat in the club grows unbearable. It was dark outside. He stumbles over his own feet on the sidewalk, her body pressed tightly against his side. His first instinct is to find a nice wall somewhere to continue their adventure. He would have if a taxi hadn't appeared on the curb in front of them. He looked at Nico and smirked. He popped the door open and swept her up, princess style. "Let's go home." He muttered, sweeping into the back of the cab. "South Nova." He yelled to the driver, before situating the pinkette on his lap so he could rest his head on her shoulder and nip at her neck like a curious puppy. | INTO DUSK
WE GO,
HAIR GUM DIRT & SNOW
@nico |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2014 17:35:12 GMT
nico pérrit @dusk 305 words after the disco, all of the shine just faded away all of the shine just faded away A pretty picture, but the scenery is too loud. The world is a modern art piece of rasping breaths, hot fingers and skin and cold air, little whimpers, flashing lights, and tongues exchanging secrets of candy and liqueur concoctions. With her legs wrapped around Dusk’s waits, Nico can’t tell if she’s the foreground, the background, or the observer; her head spins, and she lets it fall back, cotton candy fog pulsing back against her eyes. Dusk’s voice hums through the beat, a half-slurred chorus to the beating of their hearts. She barely has the strength or the sense to nod, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she did anyway—he is already pulling her away.
Cold air breaks over her skin like coming up from the ocean for air. Clean oxygen has a strange taste compared to the heady interior of the club, and drunk on its purity she wobbles along with the obsidian-haired youth holding her close. Lights swim in front of her, people passing by; she leans her back to a brick wall, guided by Dusk’s hands, for a brief eternity before a faux leather cab seat takes its place. Dusk’s jeans create a delicious friction against her leggings as he places her in his lap, and she has to swallow whatever noise comes up first. She shivers in his arms instead. Her head lolls to the side as he indulges himself with the taste of her neck; her fingers curl and grasp at cigarette burns in the seat and tears in his jeans.
“Home,” she repeats dumbly, but she isn’t even sure she’s said anything at all.
What is this? she has to wonder, and she doesn't know if she wants the answer or not.
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