`wind would blow ] --samzoekaylalia&cam

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we put our feet just where they had, had to go, never to go[/COLOR][/FONT]

the shattered soul following close but nearly twice as slow[/center]

Most would consider it far too early in the day to be intoxicated to such an extent, but Vella was nowhere close to giving two fucks. Pushing wads of bills into the hands of that one guy - the one with the eye patch and the flamingo shaped scar on his neck - the blonde swiped a bag heavy with powder and traipsed deeper into the alley. Her hands fumbled with it and some spilled onto the ground but she'd had enough hits to not care much for anything. She just needed more, and that was the downside to her addiction - she never was satisfied until konked out, unconscious in someone's backyard. Vella set a line up on the lid of a dumpster - germs and diseases were the least of her worries - and retrieved a dollar from her pocket. Roll.. sniff. Relief. Her head screamed and her eyes swelled; tears streamed down and she bared her teeth.

And she was off, ambling out of the alley and through the streets of the First District of Panem.

Blonde curls dashed about her face with the swift winds that cool day. Her attire was probably not well suited for the weather but the opium had caused her to possess a careless nature. Stares were tossed in her direction as she bounced by bewitched bystanders - half wondering why the model wore a simple red bikini in the streets, half wishing she had on just a bit less. ”!”


WIP BUT OMG A POST

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