underpainting / roe + laney, day 1
Oct 29, 2023 0:01:50 GMT -5
Post by tick 12a / calla on Oct 29, 2023 0:01:50 GMT -5
"Dude, I need to find some clothes."
What he really needs is to get out of this bloody shirt. The fabric sticks to his skin, tacky now, and there's a rip in the side where the knife slipped in. He needs pants. Shoes, too. His legs are cold and he's been limping around barefoot like an idiot. Stitched up and better than ever; he just doesn't look it yet.
They drift across the hall, trading blank walls for jewel tones.
"There's probably something backstage." Roe says lowly, hand swiping at Vin's shoulder as they keep going, "Don't get killed."
He pulls one of the heavy side curtains back, revealing a narrow passageway in the dark.
The air smells like talc.
The mannequins are eerie in the dim light, standing rigid and faceless in their flat sequins and feather boas. There's scattered pieces of jewelry everywhere - broken bits that would feed a family for months back home.
The lights of a vanity flicker on when Roe passes it. A note's tucked up in the corner. A faded red lipstick mark and an xoxo. There's a slip of lace-cuffed black silk hanging from the back of its chair.
Good enough.
He peels his rag of a shirt off gingerly, painfully aware of Vin's stitching, and his entire side twinges with the movement. He eyes the bruising across his ribs in the mirror, the glow of the incandescents casting it all a sickly yellow. It takes a moment for him to notice the girl in the reflection, standing behind him.
He jolts, spins, already pulling out one of the short swords and throwing decency to the wind - "It's polite to knock first."
