Post by Deleted on Sept 8, 2013 1:52:09 GMT
Thugs, thieves, prostitutes. Corner by corner, in every shadowing crevice of downtown Nova Athenis there was some individual with some sort of lifestyle that shouted rough - strong. Because to stand on the corners of the infamous red light distract, to walk passed the alleyways of the grime, rot stricken apartments and abandoned buildings infested with druggies and dealers you'd just have to have grown some cojones or had some large ones to begin with. Or, perhaps, as the rare case was with the ivory haired fighter, you had a mixture of both cojones and sheer abnormal life choices.
Strolling with cool familiarity through the red light distract, which lived quite literally up to it's name when the night fell, Lane Shields wandered about looking for a good distraction. Red cascaded from the overhead lights from both the streetlamps and various buildings up and down the crime ridden road, some bouncing with music and particularly vibrant while other shadier places vaguely gave off shine from their half-assedly placed "open" signs. Persons bickered here and there, far off she could hear some dogs getting into it, and she couldn't help but think that the rhythm of life all about somehow synced despite the chaotic order of it all. Even her footfalls seemed to slowly get into tune with the vibration that rattled from the more popular nightclubs; she wouldn't be surprised if her heartbeat too had fallen into stride. The area always seemed to affect some aspect of her being, which was likely the very reason she found herself so often among it's streets. That and she did live only four blocks away.
Truthfully, as she glanced upon a puking hooker bending into an alleyway, she knew exactly why she enjoyed the place most. It was dangerous. And Lala absolutely couldn't stay away from the taste and scent of it. It called to her like a drug, beckoning for her rage to be released and her body to be thrown into action. There was nothing quite like an adrenaline rush, nor anything comparable to the feeling of absolutely dominating your opponent. Fighting. Fighting was her passion. Evident from the dirtied, bloodied wraps around each of her fists and a dim bruise around her left eye. Had her torso not been sheathed beneath a heavy hoody, the bruises of her abdomen and back too would be further marks of a warrior. Or a reckless and violent girl; both conceptions she thought suited her quite well.
In absent mindedness, the casually attired rich girl slipped passed the peacock-capped hooker as she vomited up her small meal. No more than two bites, Laney judged as she walked by, easily fading into the darkness of the alleyway. The massive building to her right, however, was the liveliest building around the area. A back door propped open and letting out the sound and vibration of the DnB music that nearly deafened it's inhabitants. The particular club was notorious for it's crowd fights, often induced by those lost in the mind of intoxication from some drug substance. Or simply drunken and carelessly wild. It was her favorite place to visit, especially when coping through familial issues that she'd just rather not actually work through, or even acknowledge, for that matter.
"I need to fucking blow my mind." Her very american voice escaping out for her ears only as intended target as she neared the back entrance way of the nightclub. The mixed scent of alcohol, smoke and humanly odor growing stronger with each step that brought her through the shadowy path.
Strolling with cool familiarity through the red light distract, which lived quite literally up to it's name when the night fell, Lane Shields wandered about looking for a good distraction. Red cascaded from the overhead lights from both the streetlamps and various buildings up and down the crime ridden road, some bouncing with music and particularly vibrant while other shadier places vaguely gave off shine from their half-assedly placed "open" signs. Persons bickered here and there, far off she could hear some dogs getting into it, and she couldn't help but think that the rhythm of life all about somehow synced despite the chaotic order of it all. Even her footfalls seemed to slowly get into tune with the vibration that rattled from the more popular nightclubs; she wouldn't be surprised if her heartbeat too had fallen into stride. The area always seemed to affect some aspect of her being, which was likely the very reason she found herself so often among it's streets. That and she did live only four blocks away.
Truthfully, as she glanced upon a puking hooker bending into an alleyway, she knew exactly why she enjoyed the place most. It was dangerous. And Lala absolutely couldn't stay away from the taste and scent of it. It called to her like a drug, beckoning for her rage to be released and her body to be thrown into action. There was nothing quite like an adrenaline rush, nor anything comparable to the feeling of absolutely dominating your opponent. Fighting. Fighting was her passion. Evident from the dirtied, bloodied wraps around each of her fists and a dim bruise around her left eye. Had her torso not been sheathed beneath a heavy hoody, the bruises of her abdomen and back too would be further marks of a warrior. Or a reckless and violent girl; both conceptions she thought suited her quite well.
In absent mindedness, the casually attired rich girl slipped passed the peacock-capped hooker as she vomited up her small meal. No more than two bites, Laney judged as she walked by, easily fading into the darkness of the alleyway. The massive building to her right, however, was the liveliest building around the area. A back door propped open and letting out the sound and vibration of the DnB music that nearly deafened it's inhabitants. The particular club was notorious for it's crowd fights, often induced by those lost in the mind of intoxication from some drug substance. Or simply drunken and carelessly wild. It was her favorite place to visit, especially when coping through familial issues that she'd just rather not actually work through, or even acknowledge, for that matter.
"I need to fucking blow my mind." Her very american voice escaping out for her ears only as intended target as she neared the back entrance way of the nightclub. The mixed scent of alcohol, smoke and humanly odor growing stronger with each step that brought her through the shadowy path.
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OPEN
OPEN
LAIKA OF GS!
