burning bridges (Arrows)

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k!ah
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burning bridges (Arrows) Jul 7, 2020 2:46:36 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Jul 7, 2020 2:46:36 GMT -5

g r a c e .

* * *

Darkness cloaked her as she ran through the sleeping streets of district nine. Her mother hadn't woken as she slipped from the house. She was on a mission, a mission to track down a boy she knew to be called Phoenix Tyrant. She had used her skills and resources to track down his name. Then called in a couple favours to find out his place of resident. Her source had been reluctant, hesitant to give her the information as she had already used up most her favours. But with a sweet smile and battered eyelashes he had succumbed to her charms, the address escaping his lips as his eyes guided down her body.

She had left with the burning desire to punch him in the face.

But she had restrained herself, knowing that one day she might need his assistance again.

But that didn't change the way it made her blood boil, her lips pulled back into a snarl as she danced around the edge of a building a block from her destination. Ducking into the shadows she took a moment to catch her breath. Piercing blue eyes studied the building that housed the boy. It was run down, and quite frankly, a pile of shit. Especially compared to the lifestyle she was used too. She wasn't rich, per sae, but her family was well off, as rich as you could be when you lived in district nine. But being rich, having money, never guaranteed happiness. She had found out the hard way.

She used to think that her parents were the happiest couple to walk the planet. Their loving gazes often caused teasing comments to escape her lips, ones that would be rewarded by chuckles and playful punches of the shoulder. But then one day it all changed, it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped onto the Fallon household. It stared with slamming of doors and hushed whispers. Whispers that soon turned into shouts as they fought to be heard over the other. Gazes that used to be filled with warmth were laced with hatred as items are thrown and my father kicked to the curb, the smell of his burning clothes was still present in the room that was now abandoned.

And one name above all stuck out like a burning ring of fire: Emory Tyrant.

This was why she was now crouched outside her son's residence, her eyes burning holes into the window that would lead into his home. Her fingers scraped the earth around her, searching for a stone, a rock, or even a brick that she could use. Bingo, she thinks as they wrap around rough surface of a broken brick. Standing tall and with a quick glance around, she pulls back her arm, her breathing steady and focused. A wicked smile spreads across her lips as she sends it flying, crashing into the window she is showered in glass.

"Hey! Hey, Phoenix Tyrant!" She screams into the night, into the broken window. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

✮ UPAT ✮

Arrows
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burning bridges (Arrows) Aug 13, 2020 13:08:09 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Aug 13, 2020 13:08:09 GMT -5

The liquid is like molten lava leaking down the back of my throat, but it does not burn the way it used to. Scores of scar tissues now track the amounts of alcohol into my mouth from years of downing the substance. There's a groan, a melancholy moan to the moon waning in a crescent overhead, but nothing more than a soft sound on a still evening. My fingers fall against the cold compressed panes of glass still stained from the recent summer showers of soot. In the distance, dancing among the star sewn sky, the factories' smoke spills into darkness.

My breath breaks.

I light a cigarette and pull in a long drag.

The sky and my lunges share the same symphony of smoke.

Creaking wood from rotting infrastructure cries against a rusted nailed as soft steps stir behind me. I don't turn. I watch the swirling spirals of smoke leaving my mouth and close my eyes as the fingers trace the trail of my neck. The new ones never just leave. I flick the end of my cigarette into the sink as the slightly older man's lips brush against the back of my neck. The ashes below me sizzle in a dying puddle of water. I open my eyes to the opacity of the moon's gaze.

"Run along. You've spent you're money."

There's a moment of silence then steps slinking away. I wait for the sound of the rusted hinges on the door before breathing out a funnel of smoke. I leave the stick of smoke between my teeth as I teeter into the living room and stare at the bundled blankets and low lit candles. I stare at the robed frame of the figure in the mirror and share a small smile with him. At least the evening is over and I can afford a new outfit.

The sound of shattering glass sends me to the floor. The skin on my body bubbles with bumps as my cigarette breaks between my clamping jaw. I stay there, stunned on the floor boards, as my mind remembers the man and the gun from the alley that one night and... I spit the segments of cigarette out from my mouth before shakily standing to stare the broken brick that has now shattered the same window I was standing at seconds earlier. When I hear the shouting from the street below, fear flows directly into anger.

I walk carefully across the splintered shards of glass to stand at the window. I don't know the girl below. I don't care to know her story. Did her boyfriend find his way to me? Sucks. What I do care about is the damage she has done to the apartment I have had to work tooth and nail to get. I can feel the fury filling my veins, but my voice never breaks into a shout.

"Then shut the fuck up and stop acting like a spoiled kid."

My eyes never look away from this stranger with whatever vendetta she thinks she shelters.

"Factory families live here, why don't you just scream some more so that they can't get the few hours of sleep they need."

My hands move almost without warning, pulling the keys from my pocket and throwing them down to the street below. I've lived my whole life on the streets, this shit won't scare me anymore.

"If you have a problem why don't we talk about. Unit 37, third floor."

I leave the window and wait, wait for her on the couch with the bundled blankets and a fresh cigarette between my lips.

Last Edit: Aug 13, 2020 13:09:55 GMT -5 by Arrows

Graphic by the Breathtakingly Talented Stare

k!ah
Retired Staff

4,636 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 19, 2024 4:03:09 GMT -5

#expensivetrash

burning bridges (Arrows) Aug 23, 2020 6:54:11 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on Aug 23, 2020 6:54:11 GMT -5

g r a c e .

* * *

"Lav, please! Don't walk out that door! Lav! Lav i'm-"

"Don't you dare, Cain! Don't you fucking dare!" The voice booms down the corridor, slipping past the her door.

"Lav, I'm sorry! It was mistake- it won't happen again."

His voice pleads, she imagines him on his knees, desperate hands reaching for her mothers.

"'Just a mistake' my fucking ass! How many times did you make that mistake, Cain?" Venom places her voice.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry won't fix it this time."

A door slams.

Covers are pulled higher over her head, her body hiding beneath the weight of her covers, trying to hide from the anger that seems to sneak into her room nipping at her toes. She couldn't understand why, all of a sudden, her home was suddenly filled with chaos.

* * *

Silence fills the space between her and the shattered window, her fingers curling tightly, nails biting into the palm of her hand. She ignores the pain that bites at her palms, eyes staring intently as a dark figure begins to stir within the depths of the quiet apartment. Finally his face appears, as pale as a ghost, "Then shut the fuck up and stop acting like a spoiled kid." Rage burns through her, setting her blood on fire. Nails bite deeper into her palm, breaking the skin. Her lips curl into a snarl as his eyes bore into her.

Spoiled kid? Family ruined, life turned upside down, this boys family responsible, she had the fucking right to act like a spoiled child. She was a lost child, wandering around in darkness, searching for an exit, but forever running into dead ends. "Factory families live here, why don't you just scream some more so that they can't get the few hours of sleep they need."

"Why don't you just scream some more bluh bluh, bluh, bluuuh, bluuuuuuuh," she mocks quietly, hands finding hips. Tempted to yell so more to witness the boys reaction, hoping that it would be something similar to the burning rage that burned through her own veins. But he was right, families worked their fingers to their bones in this neighbourhood, earning barely enough to make ends meat. So she keeps her mouth shut. For the moment.

"If you have a problem," hands dive into pocket and keys are tossed in her direction. Quick fingers reach out and snatch them, clasping them tightly in hands spotted with small crescents of blood. "Why don't we talk about. Unit 37, third floor." Eyes narrow in suspicion as her eyes dart down to stare at the keys in her hands. Who the hell tosses their keys to a total stranger? But before she can challenge him he is gone, her eyes meeting an empty space where Phoenix Tyrant had been standing.

Teeth snagging her lower slip she marches towards the apartment block lobby. She hadn't come all this way to be scared off, to go running home tail between legs. She had a bone to pick and she would fucking pick it.

Legs burning she reaches the third floor. The building is a shit hole, the smell of mould and stale cigarettes causing her nose to screw up in distaste. Finding the number she shoves the key into the keyhole, shoving the door open as she tossed the keys to the floor. They land with a loud clutter. The room swirls with a slight smokey haze, and temporally she is overwhelmed by the staggering smell of alcohol thick in the air. "This place is a shit hole," she says matter a factly, judgemental gaze sweeping across the room.

"Do you know who I am?"

If he didn't know now, he would know by the time she left.