Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Red Lips {Sailor}

The club was like a heart beat. The beat of the music pumped life into the cells which then jostled and danced and ground against one another, sweaty bodies pressed against one another for thrill and excitement. Light confused and excited as they flashed on and off, making the room seem like it paused before coming back to life for a second then pausing again when the light was not on. Laughing and tears could barely be heard above the sound of the pumping music as the speakers blurted out the latest tunes from the capitol; breaking glass and sounds of squabbles occasionally broke the repetitive beat of the music.
Morana hated this type of music. She preferred it when the music was tasteful with more singing and less dropping of the bass; her brother was right when he called this type of music satanic. It’s a good thing then that I am not a saint she thought to herself as she took a sip of her martini. To be truthful the only reason she came to such a venue was to pick up something, a toy she could play with until she became bored and desired another; sometimes she came here to hunt her prey, like a wild beast, but tonight she just wanted some compassion. However it seemed that the hot guys had not got her memo when she entered the club wearing a short black number with bright red heels. Her signature outfit for picking someone up. The only man who had paid attention to her this evening was some fat, 40 year old whose breath smelt of chewing tobacco. Morana had told him to fuck off before she found seclusion in a booth in the corner of the club.
She was in the perfect position to watch for prey and in a perfect position to grab something from the bar when she ran out of alcohol. If she didn’t manage to get a one night stand she might as well get smashed out her face anyway. Maybe if she was drunk enough she would hook up with that man from earlier. God forbid though she thought to herself as she took another sip of her martini. Nightlife in 2 was not like it used to be, people were too busy trying to follow the trends of the Capitol that it left the clubs filled with 40 year old men and woman jumping around in silly, barely even there, frocks that were apparently all the rage in the Capitol. Young people just didn’t come out anymore. Maybe because they had jobs or whatever but still they needed to live! Maybe they just weren’t living here anymore.
Scanning the crowd again, Morana found herself unlucky again. No person in this club was worth her time so she downed the rest of the Martini and made a swift exit. Outside, the night air stung and made her regret not bringing a coat or at least wearing something a little more but after she lit up a quick cigarette, it didn’t really matter to her anymore. She dragged a puff of those toxic fumes through her mouth and the world suddenly felt calmer. Those things will kill you! she heard Aragon shout angrily in her head, which made her laugh since her family was far more dangerous than anything made in this world. She had once skinned a man alive- his hide had made a stunning lamp- and dismembered a man so he was no longer a man when he slept; when he woke, she let the family pet take care of him.
Reaching the next club, she stuffed out her cigarette and strode in with confidence- Mama Blackmore had taught her that a first impression was a lasting one, so make it count. Whenever Morana walked in a room, she held herself like she owned the place. Straight back, head high and stare that could kill and you were good to go. The second club was a lot better, more empty than the one before and the music was better somewhat; the bass still dropped but at least this music had human voices. As Morana made her way deeper into the club, she realized something. This place was full of Careers.
If there was one type of people Morana Blackmoore hated more than old people, it was the Career’s. They annoyed her. Sadly some of her family were them but at least in her family, they knew how to kill. These, Careers with their skinny arms and legs and their ‘professional’ training to kill someone if they had the chance. The problem was, they were only trained and many would never spill real blood in their lives and even then; they killed them clean. I slash of a sword, an axe to the face and be done with it. Morana believed that to kill, you had to do it slowly so you could see the life drain out of their eyes as the blood trickled down their skin. The Blackmoore girl had to stop thinking about the dead there cause it was kind of turning her on. Shaking it off, Morana made her way to the bar.
“I’ll have a Bloody Mary” Morana said, slipping her hand into her purse and handing the bar tender a dollar bill.
While she waited for her drink, she scanned the few people in the room. There were few that were single, and few that looked sober enough to seduce without being vomited all over. Even Morana had her bad hooks. Nodding thanks to the bar tender when he gave her the drink, the Blackmoore girl leant back against the bar; relaxing a little. She may have been alone but she was actually enjoying herself, she didn’t really want the company of others. She saw no shining lights in the crowd, no one that caught her eye which was a disappointment but there was always next Tuesday.
Slurping her drink, Morana decided that the Bloody Mary wouldn’t work fast enough so she turned to the Bartender again and asked “Can I have a shot of Vodka?”
Nodding, the man poured her one. Placing her large glass down on the bar beside her, Morana picked up the shot glass before smiling wide at the man and downing it in one swift move.