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| What Can Red Do For You?; -Closed- | |
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| Topic Started: Friday, 25. February 2011, 00:47 (396 Views) | |
| Dahlia | Friday, 25. February 2011, 00:47 Post #1 |
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True Sabbat
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She was a torrent of words and thoughts that had little more depth than “hate” and “rage”, but her walk was filled with purpose and poise; she guided herself down different streets and alleys, avoiding a direct bee line towards the East. No. She would not be caught off guard ever again. Dahlia stripped off the ruined bolero while she moved, retrieving a sleek plastic case from within the jacket. At first glance it looked like a case for glasses, but when she popped it open, it revealed a scattered array of nose studs, earrings and other etc. necessary for the installation of piercings and the like. The Camarilla had given her an ultimatum, unspoken as it was – but Dahlia could not fathom that particular element at this particular time. She needed to send a message to Hackney and she knew of only one way to do it. Her hands were full during her labyrinthine trek through London, displaying an obvious lack of direction in the pursuit of relieving herself of any possible shadows; the thought of shadows made her twitch, conjuring the voice of the Archbishop in the back of her mind. But with a supernatural speed she altered her hair style, removed piercings…and made way for new ones. The velvet gloves were a smidge darker now, stained with her blood, but she continued until the ambience of the railway station was within view. Dahlia knew for a fact that some of the Toreador Antitribu liked to hang out here, and it would be through them that she’d impart her message to Monroe. Having quietly assessed her arrangement via compact, she replaced the bolero and made certain that her hair was well above her ears and there to stay – she needed to give as complete a visual as possible for the message to be understood. Jogging now towards a gate she ascended it as quickly as she came down, landing with a hard ‘click’ on the other side. Ahead she heard conversations and she could discern through heightened senses that in the darkness of the station stood her blood relations. Dahlia issued a soft whistle to the other Sabbat and she did a double take to ensure that they weren't just useless rabble. They looked at her and after noticing the garnet nose stud tripped up slightly in their conversation, noting the particular display of colors and piercings and whereabouts they were pierced; the finale lay in the large silver ring she had removed from her right shoulder and implanted through her nose as a septum piercing. She flashed them her partial ‘Glasgow’ and turned away from them, making her way towards the exit again. Behind her she heard one of the Sabbat take off towards Hackney. Until she got permission to come home, she’d remain in Anarch territory. But for now, she was hungry. After that, she could think some more on why she still existed. |
What fantasy is there in the act, that one cannot derive greater pleasure from than while denied the act...![]() Fantasy. Mutilation through restraint; taste but do not touch. Enjoy, but do not feel... | |
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2:02 AM Jul 11