asgardmeridiem | Swapping Stories (Closed)

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Swapping Stories (Closed)

Who: Samantha Grey

expy
What: Drinks and stories about old conquests/fights between two girls with way too much experience with demons.
When: Day 133, right after work.
Where: A local bar that's more gray than colored, but where the drinks at least have life.
Rating: PG-13 (Warning for triggery issues, since Eve may ask Sam to share some of her stories. If it hits R-level, will update the thread).

Samantha had attempted to find something that looked better than just her work clothes. She was in the process of getting the shop ready to run on its own, but professional attire just didn't seem to suit the occasion. Eve wanted to swap stories over drinks, and that just felt like a time where she could at least put on a decent skirt and try not to look like she wanted to bury her claws into everything that moved.

Besides, she didn't want to hear about her abysmal fashion sense for the the ten-thousandth time.

So, she put on just a little bit of makeup, enough to accent the reds without making them stand out more. She tacked on the faintest of perfumes, something to mask the sulfur and make her one shade less offensive. She put on a smooth, red something that came about two-thirds of the way down her thighs instead of to her ankle and actually bothered to put on a white pair of sheer stockings. A sleeveless, white top that covered the scars on her back and a belt later and she almost looked like she belonged in a bar. She sighed and made her way, trying to imagine why she'd decided on heels, even if they were short ones, Still, she reached the bar they'd agreed on easily enough.

God, she felt like an idiot dressed like this. Worst of all, she could almost feel eyes on her, the last thing she really wanted. Still, if they were going to trade stories like these, she might as well.

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Well, at least the other girl's outfit wasn't generally offensive to all her senses. That was an improvement, she supposed. For a moment, she seems to consider her statement, carefully giving the visible employees a look over, before shaking her head. "I don't know about you," she responds, examining her own nails. She could feel some amount of dirt and dead skin underneath them, and it was beginning to be annoying. "But I could use some minotaurs right now. They know how to party, if you catch my drift."

Not that she had ever been to a fabled minotaur party, personally, but some of her less Earthly acquaintances seemed to be rather emotional about them. It wasn't like Samantha would know that, either way, and her intonation certainly wouldn't give it away as she takes her seat. She carefully examines the glasses once they're poured, and lightly picks one up, swirling the contents around as she idly twirled her necklace around one finger. There was some sort of significance to it that she wouldn't admit, but for now, it was just another cute accessory to compliment her outfit.

"Thanks," she says, taking a small sip from her glass and perfecting her posture. "I had a cuter one back home. I'm still mad it didn't come with me when I got dragged here."

Samantha's lips quivered at the edge of a smile. Either the girl was spouting pure bravado at this point, or she had some slightly dangerous tastes. Admittedly, there was a very faint bit of color that tinged her cheeks as she looked at Eve in a different light, a flash of a mental image forming unbidden in her mind, possibly not even what Eve had intended.

She coughed and took a drink from the glass. A vodka and tonic wasn't exactly the easiest going of drinks, but she didn't want something too easy to drink right now. If they were getting drunk, they would know it was happening. She allowed herself a chuckle and shook her head.

"A pity yeah," she said, not specifically saying if she was talking about the minotaurs or the key. "So, I take it you're a closeted party girl bored out of your skull with the night scene around here?"

A mix of both, perhaps. While Eve wasn't exactly the kind to attend festivities such as the one she mentioned, she couldn't deny there was a certain allure to certain less than safe situations. The adrenaline rush that came with them was amazing, and the control she felt even more so. Some might call it reckless and say she was getting way ahead of herself, but she didn't see it that way. At all.

She cocks an eyebrow at that, resisting the urge to smirk, and shrugs her shoulders. "Something like that," she begins, uncommitted and more or less pondering over the notion of being a party girl. "It's strange adjusting to the pace here, y'know?"

A little bit of danger, eh? No wonder she stuck around this one. "Yeah, though I'd bet we're adjusting to different things," she said, laughing and shrugging herself. "On the upside it's not exactly like I've missed having to run for my life nearly as often as I used to, so I think I can deal with some of the differences. Rare flashbacks are better than regular ones."

She lifted her glass and tapped it to hers before taking a sip. "So, what's the pace like back home anyway? Just what sorts of parties do you get yourself into?"

Edited 2012-08-29 04:53 (UTC)

She pauses at the question. Admittedly, she isn't sure why she does, but she finds herself pursing her lips and (remarkably) carefully considering the best way to answer this. There were a lot of things she could say to describe the kind of parties she got herself into back home, but some were too personal and some were far too confusing for even herself at the moment. After a beat, she snorts an takes another small sip from her glass. Perhaps the best way to approach it was a general overview.

"Just the usual teen vigilante pace. Wake up, go to school, kill the new asshole of the week," she responds, lightly and as if this were a joke. "I've seen way too many different parties. You'll have to ask a more specific question."

If she'd been a Buffy fan, she'd have made a wise-crack right then and there. She really would have, but the best she had was most days was soap operas. Still, the teenage vigilante routine made her smirk a little. "You must love poking bears," she said, eyeing the girl. "That habit of sticking your nose into other peoples' business will probably catch up to you one of these days, but it's perfect around here really."

She relaxed, crossing her legs while one hand idly reached to her side. There was a clench and a small 'thump' sound before her tail went back on the side she'd decided it would stay on. She glanced over at it in annoyance before smirking. "More specific you say? Well, we're supposed to be sharing old conquests aren't we? How about the cutest one you've hooked up with?"

In the back of her mind, she had to decide who qualified as the most tolerable person she'd managed to snare.

"Oh, excuse you," she says, putting down her glass to flick out a little bit of dirt she had found underneath her nail. "Other people's business always finds a way to find me first. I had to adjust, see?" Which was true, more or less. Ever since Scorpio attached itself to her, it seemed like everything ever decided she was the girl to take care of their issues. That was, of course, regardless of whether or not they were your average every day teenage issues, or something far much more supernatural.

Still, not one to back up on a promise, Eve tilts her head thoughtfully. There had been boys. Not as many as she would imply with her attitude, but all of them were memorable and oh-so easy to dump in their own way. She taps her chin with her index finger, her painted nail contrasting nicely against her skin color, before she nods, having settled on one particular boy she would call the cutest. "I would have to say the cutest one is my most recent conquest," she offers, smirking slightly. "His personality isn't nearly as cute as his face, though. I guess it comes with being your stereotypical pampered, asshole prince."

"Heh, fair enough," she said, holding up her hands. "I understand that part well enough..." And she rested her chin on a hand while she listened to the first part. Part of her was idly curious whether this was complete bullshit and bravado, or if she actually had done all the conquests that her tone seemed to imply.

"Oh, so a prince was it? You do have high tastes, though... from what you were saying I'm guessing he wasn't a human prince," she said in amusement. "Go on. Just saying he was a prince isn't nearly enough. You're going to have to earn learning what Emppu and I used to do when we got together." Yeah, blue-nose was probably the least fucked up of the guys she'd screwed.

...that was really sad, actually.

"Well, obviously," she responds, all too easily. She wasn't sure of how a human female from the suburbs of New York could even land a human prince, so it seemed rather obvious that it would have to be a decidedly nonhuman one. "A human prince wouldn't be able to keep up with my lifestyle. He was a ghost, so it wasn't like he could die trying to keep up. As for other details..."

She hums thoughtfully, carefully sifting through all the personal details of their (decidedly unromantic) relationship and discarding the ones that were either too emotional or much too boring. After a moment, she shrugs and continues to speak. "Remember that bodyguard I've mentioned before? He's that bodyguard, and also the asshole responsible for getting this thing stuck on my arm," she gestures at Scorpio as she says this, of course, not that there was anything else stuck on her. "He was infuriating. Mooched off my hospitality, didn't even know how making out works, and kept talking like he was a plural being. And-- by the way, don't try to have sex with a ghost. Not worth it. The coin doesn't go with the slot, in this case. Not that he knew how to use it. Kept saying human romance was the weird one."

And, yeah. Maybe she was a little bit more emotional than she'd like to admit over his general existence, but that's more or less expected when she's been stuck with a ghost who can't even do his own laundry for months.

Ghosts did laundry? Samantha listened and laughed, shaking her head. "There's ways around anatomy issues, you know," she said with a laugh and a shrug. "You just have to figure out what feels good for the both of you and do that." She coughed and colored a little, looking away. Ok, after the weird conversations she and Eve had already been in, there was no reason to pretend that she couldn't talk about this sort of thing.

Another sip, or more accurately gulp, and she laughed. "So you dated a ghost, and a princely one. Personally sounds like more headache than he's worth. You have a thing for dating people you like to call assholes?" she added, shaking her head and closing her eyes. "Well, outside of the blue nose, and god help me I never did figure out why his nose was blue, Emppu at least had the right equipment. Of course, he was usually in another world most days, on account of the mushrooms... or the dust... or the hash... or whatever else the quack he bought from gave him, or my blood a couple times."

"He was more fun high though..."

"You've noticed?" she says, with a small quirk of her eyebrow. Picking up her glass once again, she takes a sip, carefully measuring herself. She wasn't sure of what had been poured in this exactly, but she wasn't quite ready to get drunk yet. If there was anything her brother had thought her about drinking, is that things were certainly much more entertaining if you were the last to get drunk, and she was fully prepared to hear the juicy details with the capacity to remember them.

For now, at least.

"Your blood?" she responds, a certain amount of skepticism showing in her voice. "Don't tell me you dated a shroom loving vampire. That's something even I wouldn't go for."

"Nah. Emppu was human, completely human," she said, shrugging and looking at her hands. "Thing was... well, that whole succubus, sexual predator thing. Back home, even a half-breed had blood that could act a bit like pheromones. It wasn't really addictive... but well, it could make the shrooms that much better. Just imagine being on shrooms and an aphrodesiac all at once."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Emppu really never knew what hit him. He was kind of apathetic, lazy. He wasn't used to people wanting his attention that much," she said, smiling. "I think I kind of overwhelmed him even on a good day."

Understatement of the year.

"I'll... take a rain check on imagining that. Thanks," she says, decidedly more gingerly than she would have liked to let on. As far as she was concerned, drinking blood was something better left off to the vampires (for nutritional needs, of course) and the Speakers (for informational needs--or, whatever it is they do with genetic material). It definitely wasn't to be done by humans, never mind enjoyed.

But, then again, who was she to say? Different strokes for different folks, she supposed.

"Huh," she responds, after a moment, carefully tapping her chin once she was done being (quietly) grossed out by the fact that there are those who willingly drink blood out there. "Would you look at that? You do have some bite, after all."

She laughed, taking a nice long drink. "Yeah, maybe a little," she said, closing her eyes. "It'd be nice to have a regular relationship one of these days, but I just can't seem to get anything like that to stick. It always ends badly."

She looked across and over at Eve for a minute, not quite sure what to say. "I'd tell you about Dusk, but I don't know what the hell to call us. It's not like we ever kissed more than once," she said with a snort of a laugh. "We were trying to kill each other more often than anything else."

"Well, who knows?" she replies with a small shrug of her shoulders, watching the contents of her glass swish around as she moved it slightly. Her tone indicated she wasn't entirely serious, but it wasn't mocking by any means. "This city could, in fact, be your lucky break. Meetings work in funny ways like that, y'know?"

Still, even though she isn't entirely sure why, she seems to freeze at the mention of that name. It's a strange reaction, considering she's sure she's never heard the name before in her life (or, at least considered it a name a real living person would have), but it happens nonetheless and here she is, gripping her glass slightly harder than she realized and letting the words come out of her mouth. "Who?"

"Maybe. Not quite sure how, and I don't want to get my hopes up too high," she said, sipping hers instead of swirling it too much. She didn't seem to catch on too directly to the girl's body posture, shrugging at the interest and considering how to explain best.

"Riese used to go by the handle Dusk," she said, tone a little distant. "Necromancer, mixed with a dash of ninja or sneak-thief. I think she was basically a hunter of the undead most of the time. Had it in for me the moment we met at what was basically a glorified series of cage matches for a bastard of a crimelord's amusement. We got stuck in a fight, so I decided to make a point to her by kissing her in the middle of the fight and doing the whole succubus draining thing. Didn't know what hit her."

"We fought more than anything else, but part of me's still trying to figure out why we gave a rat's ass. I know I sure as hell went further for her than most folks." Anyone, really.

"...A necromancer," she mumbles, taking a sip from her own glass and staring at its contents. Necromancy wasn't possible in her own world, as far as she knew, but the name and the concept of rising the dead felt so very familiar to her. It felt like an itch she just couldn't reach--annoying and bothersome until it goes away.

Quietly, she takes another sip and shrugs. "And here you were, criticizing me for going after the assholes," she replies, a faint smirk on her lips. "That sounds to me like a textbook case of doing just that."

"She wasn't the worst person I've ever had an interest in, by a pretty decent margin," she said, chuckling and holding up her hands defensively. "Besides, I'm not really sure we were a 'thing.' We really didn't get along most times. At the same time, I didn't like leaving her out to dry, even if she was a bitch."

She snorts, lightly, and waves her hand dismissively at the other girl. Someone hadn't watched as many soaps as they claimed, from what she was saying. "Oh, please," Eve begins, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to get along to be a thing. All you need is to be attracted to them, some way or another."

...

Oh, that was the last thing she needed to hear, especially after talking to Feferi. She looked down at her drink and frowned. "Fuck me," she muttered, taking a sip from her drink. "There's no way in fuck I've got a thing for that damned clown. No way in fuck."

Hey, look! Empty glass, and she was filling another.

Well, she'll definitely have to cock an eyebrow at that, watching the other girl fill her glass. She felt a small victory at the fact that her glass still had a little bit to go before it was gone, which meant she could try to sensibly milk this for all it's worth while Samantha moved onto her second.

"That dammed clown?" she asks, feigning curious innocence and both of her elbows on the table. "Is there a little special someone I should be knowing about?"

Downside for Eve on this one was that, even if she wasn't immune to the stuff like at home, she was still a tough drinker for all that she rarely did it. One drink wasn't going to hit her that much, though she was starting healthily into the second.

"Fucking motherfucking Gamzee," she growled in response. The innocent routine didn't work on her, but she didn't care if Eve told her she was insane like the rest of the city for wanting to pound the madman into the pavement with a tire iron. "He and I had a run-in, and the more I've been thinking about how it went and talking to trolls, the more I think I was flirting with the bastard."

"Seriously, trolls are fucked up as hell, Eve."

Naturally, due to her complete submersion in modern (for her time, obviously) internet culture, Eve is quick to think of an internet troll without second guessing that assumption. Trolls are, after all, infuriating. It seemed to match without much of a hassle, and so she responds with that assumption in mind.

"He's a troll, you know," she responds, dryly and she were revealing some universal truth everyone should know. "That's kind of what trolls do. They're dicks. Sorry to say, your brand of asshole might just be dicks."

She hanged her head. "Fucking horned-headed clown freaks of nature," she muttered, grunting and closing her eyes. The description Eve had given was more than close enough for horseshoes and handgrenades, and probably closer than what Samantha would have actually given. "Maybe I just thrive on conflict is all. It's not like my last year wasn't full of it constantly."

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Swapping Stories (Closed)

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omg sorry about the delay I'M THE WORST AT LOG TAGS

haha, admit it. She's addicted to hangman. ^.~

hangman is her online time killer okok

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