Invisible Ink {Nofo}
Aug 26, 2011 18:58:06 GMT -5
Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Aug 26, 2011 18:58:06 GMT -5
S P E A K I N G // T H I N K I N G
The dagger was introduced to the wall with a loud, hollow thump. It was more of a reintroduction than an introduction, this was shown by the many dents and holes in the wall where it had penetrated before. The dagger was prepared to feel itself be pulled back out, but was mistaken, and knew it to be so when the sound of a piano drifted past it, and it settled itself in for a wait. The ivory and black keys in question were finding themselves to be pressed down on rather harsher than normal, as the hands that played them were most likely a bit drunker than normal. Well, that was politically incorrect. It wasn't the hands that were drunk, it was the body that was currently attached to them.
The body that was currently attached to them was singing at the top of her lungs, and pretty good for someone who had just gone on a rather large alcohol binge. the song being played and sung was probably a mixture of "The Rainbow Connection," and "Evergreen" which resulted in a rather odd, but slightly bearable mix. The song was paused every so often by the exalted pianist messily grabbing a flask and taking a large gulp. It wasn't that she had woken up this morning, planning to get drunk an hour later, it was just the fact that there was vodka beside her bed, and a trail of those small sample baileys all the way to her dresser, where she had most likely cleverly made it the night before in preparation for the morning.
Sometimes she was just too damned good to herself. She also trusted herself not to try and get herself drunk if she had a movie to shoot the next day, so she felt relatively safe in drinking the little bottles as she made her way to the bathroom to take her morning pee. And it really was no surprise to her cat that she was so drunk by ten am. As long as her peppermint tea was brewed by eleven am at the latest. Finally, Fenn stopped bashing the keys down and rested her head on the piano, panting from all her effort. She didn't bother hoping that she hadn't bothered the neighbors, as it had never occurred to her that they might be bothered. Most of the time, unless she was filming, Fenn was under the suspicion that she was invisible.
To combat this thought, she had whipped up a batch of invisible ink and drawn a portrait of herself, only realizing afterwards that it confirmed the suspicion. She couldn't help it that her brain was not as intelligent when under the influence. She had left the seemingly blank piece of paper magneted to her fridge anyway, because it would be a fun question to answer if anyone asked, not that anyone would as she really did have no friends. Leading her back to the thought that she was invisible, and then the whole loop started again. So that was why when there came a knock on the door at ten thirty am precisely, Fenn fell off of the piano stool, and skittered over to hide behind the couch in fear and confusion.
The knock was fast, and sort of frantic, and left Fenn with mixed feelings. On one hand she was fairly confused, especially in her state to receive the knock, but on the other, there was a glimmer of excitement radiating off of her tensed body. She was wearing a simple striped summer dress, so kneeling there was a bit odd, but it didn't bother her. She was trying to decide what to do, the first being sobering up at least a little because she was technically underage, and the second was to try answering the door. She couldn't remember the last time there had been a knock on her door, and it was almost too odd for her. So she scuttled carefully over to the kitchen to splash water in her face, and drink a cup of the coffee she had simmering, waiting quietly to see if another knock might come.
Mechanically she began patiently brewing her cat's tea, as he reminded her about it by weaving in and out threw her legs, stopping every so often to lick her bare feet. She tried to get a glance in the mirror, as she walked past it, and she was happy to notice that her long hair was safely done up in a sweet little bun, and wasn't frantically messy. She was also a little bit amused to find that she was annoyed at the thought of being bothered, just as much as she was excited and intrigued. She tried to not let herself get her hopes up, because the person at the door could be a mailman, or a crazed fan who had figured out her address. She tried to not let herself think that maybe it was someone who might just want her company for once.
