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| A place to call haven; (CLOSED - Franca's Haven) | |
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| Topic Started: Wednesday, 9. July 2014, 14:36 (234 Views) | |
| Franca | Wednesday, 9. July 2014, 14:36 Post #1 |
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A person
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As soon as she came back home, Franca took off the skanky clothes that served as her hunting disguise; she donned more comfortable shorts and a tank top, put her hair up with a pencil and sat on the bed. She didn’t really like shady nighclubs, but they were the easiest places to hunt in a new city. She’d developed a good eye for spotting those not too drunk or intoxicated - she really could do without an addiction, thanks - and in decent health - she didn’t want to leave anyone too weak, either. Once the selection was done, luring the prey was all too easy; then, nobody paid attention to what was actually going on in the toilets or privées. Techno music was quite awful, though. Franca switched on her stereo. Jaco Pastorius, Black Market. Much better indeed. She looked around. The place wasn’t that bad, after all. The walls weren’t falling apart, the sofa had no more than a few burns, the window had been easy to cover. Sure, the microclimate was terrible, but she didn’t care. One of the perks of being dead. “It’s not very well lit, but I assure you, it’s easy to get used” the landlord had said in an overapologetic tone. Should I mention I am intolerant to light anyway? No, not really, why to disclose anything more than I need. Of all the cheap places she’d found among the ads, Franca had chosen the one whose landlord seemed to be less nosy. No question on her identity, profession, lifestyle, nothing. She might have turned it into a brothel for orangutan-slaughter fetishists, as long as she paid the rent. When they met in person, though, he did give her a concerned stare. He mumbled something, then suddenly bit his lip. The alley was dark, the rest of the building was empty, the guy in the corner wasn’t truly sending aspirines. Casually but presentably dressed, with a clean face and decent manners, Franca looked like a postgraduate student. Or a free lance translator, as she actually was. She couldn’t read minds, it was not one of the gifts of her blood. But the inner struggle of the landlord was apparent even without Auspex, thought Franca restraining a chuckle: Whether ‘tis nobler to warn the lady, lest she might face outrageous fortune, or to lease the damn place, thus taking arms against a sea of debts? It didn’t take much for the landlord to resolve his ethical conflict. He set his priorities straight and closed the deal. But actually, Franca was just happy if the street was less than fashionable. She had no reason to fear thugs and gangster - oh how much not. And, while not a criminal herself (unless you count falsification of records and a few other things she couldn’t help), she sometimes had to come back home in shapes that would quite stand out in the posh districts. She hadn’t finished unpacking yet. She didn’t know if she’d been allowed to stay, though. She checked her mail, hoping to have some news from Primogen Harris. |
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1:24 AM Jul 11