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Rush Revel [Fin]
« on: January 18, 2017, 08:44:01 pm »
Fall was as insistent as the scab on the corner of his mouth. A smarting presence, and an unwelcome preference. Dionysus who had started to wear his lighter than black but deeper than brown hair sweapt across his forehead, parted his lips to strain the cover of the hardened blood lid over the new wound. Cold air came across his teeth and tongue. Son of an empire of spirits. Mother fermented rice, father waited for barrels of oak and cherry. Beauty of the east in the taut skin, but the complexion was lifted by western, curved bone. Eyes the same paradox as his hair, inclined more toward the green of his father.

His journey through schooling - here in the gathered buildings meant to teach children from all social tiers that they could be something if they listened to their seniors - had been spotless; a quick fox on the fields, a sharp tooth scarping teachers many times in class, an absent lover to inspire sticky fingers of those that liked to love him by themselves. But the elegance and perfection had gone away with the glossy hair, held back by lush products. Everyone had their guesses on his lost inheritance and and the sluggish hardness in his new eyes.

Mother had cut lithe antlers into his forehead, starting from the inward points of his eyebrows. Beautiful twin pattern that scarred into pale seams. She meant to remind him that the recent things he felt were to be contained, better to be a victim than an avatar of hunger, but really, the antlers had gifted him an eternal, sophisticated scowl. That was why his hair was there now. So he was going to endure this place, like the starved and dying does a bustling bistro, and then he would be free, without the name he'd been born into, cast so far out, but also without a leash that kept him close to what he mustn't have.

A girl that had judge him all those other years had just left him on the yard. He liked to pretend to listen to music through the white chords between his shells and the black plate, but really, there was no song, just his hands holding up the device so he could stare at mother's monster, and father's nothing. The girl had confessed, said something about his new change, and drawn her feelings in gothic, stumbling earnest on a piece of paper that smelled like the leather of her bag. He'd put the letter back into her jacket and waved her away, wondering what kind of fight the mole on her neck would offer if he tried to pluck it with his teeth.

He sat back and waited for a ride that he'd never called for, to a hidden home his father owned but had forgotten. Dion stretched his lips again, and watched his black reflection hollow out. The phone shook when he did. This wind was cruel, ambitious. The shadow mirror in the quiet machine finally showed the scab breaking. With slow elation his pushed his jaw lower to invite the blood out faster. There was a line down to his chin, soon.

He'd hazed people like himself when they'd shown signs of bloody maturity. He supposed the would be receiving such attention this year.


« Last Edit: July 22, 2017, 04:51:01 pm by Verse »

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #1 on: January 20, 2017, 04:19:34 am »
She wore autumn better than the other seasons, perching between the thick of summer and winter bite in rainstorms and red leaves. The girl was probably quite lovely in the context of a transitional world.

Taken for her parts she was less perfect; if she had worn a single flaw it might have been endearing, like a snaggletooth, but she wore them all instead. Her slim neck was long and elegant, but almost so long that it was gangly. Her skin was delicate and milky, which sounded poetic if it hadn’t been for the insistent purple roots flushing below the surface. If her eyes had been a truer shade she might have claimed a pure and startling lack of pigment, but they were an orange like honey mixed with blood. Like she was trying to be beautiful and had fallen, instead, into the uncanny valley.

It was for all of that that she wore autumn better. Like the season, her cohesion was that she always looked like she was very ill and had the uncomfortable sweetness of something about to die. She was not about to die though, nor was she ill. In her favorite circles, they called her Sugar.

Sugar, who had long legs but was not very tall, lay on a rusted picnic table that late autumn afternoon. Despite the nickname, she was not very well liked at the school she attended. In fact, it was not at school that they called her Sugar. At school, they did not call her very much at all; she was brazen in uncomfortable ways. Sugar had matured quite young, as unfriendly homes are wont to encourage, and found her new name among friends who had appreciated it when the schoolchildren had not. She was waiting for those friends now.

The car that pulled into the parking lot some yards away was old in the sort of way that “second-hand” wouldn’t do justice. Sugar recognized the husky sputter of the engine and sat up as it parked, waiting until the noise had died down and the dull glow of headlights had winked out. She hopped off the table then and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets before heading toward the vehicle. It was a crisp day, and she could see her breath steam and curl when she exhaled. Still, the sun on her back was warm in a polite way. It lit the somewhat darker trails of her starkly pale, angular bob in suggestive shades of cream and gold.

A thin young man with close cut hair and a thick, full beard leaned out the passenger side as Sugar stepped onto the asphalt, mud from the field sloughing from the prints of her old boots. "Sugar, you've been really helpful this week. We have a treat for you." he said. Sugar pushed a finger into her dimple, grinning. Pretty white calf with a wild pulse.

"Good stuff?" She asked. Danny scratched his chin through the dense scruff of his beard.

"Yeah, of course," Danny said. Sugar bit at her lip and hummed.

« Last Edit: January 20, 2017, 04:52:05 am by VenomousEve »

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #2 on: January 22, 2017, 09:04:21 am »
He knew about her. Tall short girl, unfriendly. Older than her age but not in the way that kept her in dusty corners and moth-ridden cadence. The kind of old that makes you wonder if she judged your lacking vices and small adventures. She had lived a few of your lives already. She'd had all your fun many times over. And she wore the wear like badges.

Dion hadn't been interested in that kind of flare of existence before, no more than through inspired stupors, looking at asphalt and roaming, ripped up socialites. He'd been primed for a slower flame. All the trimmings and all the fat. Now that he'd have to claw and pull for those gilded echelons, his fall quite public - an easily read end - he thought of derailing his course often, with slashed jeans and indifferent eyes. Cowardice for the task, sure, but also a string of rebellion running a hurtful, eager tone through his confused heart.

He ran the ball of his wrist over the blood from his lips and watched her over the edge of his slumbering phone. Creatures like her, and the ones that lured her from her rusted slab, over the field, didn't care about creatures like Dion. They would if they knew he wanted to sleep in their leaking childhood and lap at their memories. They didn't turn his way. Or he'd simply become one with the stone of the school. He realized the insignificance of all his anger and all his shame as he silently tore the plugs from his ears and stuffed the ivory chord back into his pocket, and flattened them with the phone, also.

He came up to the car, endless march in September, and saw the driving bear-man look away from the giraffe girl. Dion heard their conversation well enough, could guess on the bits that weren't said. He was out of place here, where he'd walked a thousand times, because they'd brought their world along with the rusted vehicle. He was disruptive enough that he had their attention, surely, under the gray linen bunched on the sunless sky. Dion, double breasted and straight-backed, didn't expect to impress the scruffy entrepreneur. The girl would most likely be either deeply indifferent or darkly disapproving. There is tension between a polished, prim lion cub and the congregating hyenas.

"I'd like some of what you're selling." he said, and realized the wording was unfitting for the setting. Dion offered them sooty jade eyes and a hard jaw to cement the gravity of his request. He tried not to wonder about the veins around her eyes, and her meat, kept warm under her jacket. "She said I could wait for you guys." he nodded to the girl. They would know how to chemically navigate urges. The girl, the picture of her own, stable wilt, was drawn into this deceit without her consent. Dion hoped his cleanliness would alarm the driver enough to press her, and that she'd go along with it. Startled dealers clam up, or deal through a barrel, he'd heard.

For good measure, he stroked his fingers over the ivory likeness of horns on his forehead, to drive his hair back and up. Perhaps scars would make a connection between them all.

Lately, just like people knew her as Sugar, he'd become known as Deerest. It was his mother's name for it that had somehow bled onto fellow tongues. Perhaps he looked like venison now.

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #3 on: January 22, 2017, 11:44:39 pm »
Sugar had sucked eagerly at that lower petal of her pink mouth, which looked like a bright wound on her white face. Sugar, because she was delectable and took imprints like some depraved and lustful canvas. When the boy sidled up her bloody ocher eyes pinned him with a sudden and startling ferocity. It wasn’t emotional, just feral. When she recognized him, or his posture, she scowled and sucked harder at her lip. Sugar didn’t know his name, just his type. Or the type he’d been trying to wear. Maybe he fancied himself something different now.

Danny was stoic, because there was a certain lack of legality in his business that had forced him to develop a reasonable poker face. The bluntness with which Dionysus made his request seemed to shock them all. Unpleasantly so. For her part, Sugar bit hard into the flesh of her rounded blush when he threw out their contrived connection. It drew blood, which she breathed in and took covetously with the tip of her tongue. Danny squinted at him. The driver, who had been so far uninvolved with the exchange, rolled his hands over the steering wheel.

Nobody seemed convinced, but Danny did begin to laugh after sufficient pause. “Sugar said?” he snickered. Sugar hissed.

“I don’t know this prick.” She said promptly. The too-large orange eyes were still fixed unflinchingly on Dion. The driver laughed too. “Like I’d buy shit from these two. I don’t buy anything, so I don’t recommend anything.” Reality was that Danny’s ring was the only group in town with the stones to monetize the trade. Sugar didn’t have to pass anyone their way; people wound up in Danny’s lap on their own. It seemed that Dionysus had somehow hurt her pride, but it had been amusing to Danny and his driver so he’d not quite blundered into failure yet.

Danny was rubbing his left cheek, the rough scratching of his beard against his skin was rhythmic and demonstratively thoughtful. There was a flash of enlightenment when Dionysus pushed at his hair and gave Danny a good look at his pretty white scars. “Oh, well, now you wouldn’t happen to be the new kid Deerest, would you?” he asked. Sugar’s stare snapped in Danny’ direction.

“Does it matter? I’m hungry.” She said, blunt. The shift of her shoulders said she wouldn’t care if Dionysus was Deerest or anyone else worming their way into her circle. She didn’t like his type. Vile little creatures until they got a taste themselves.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #4 on: January 23, 2017, 08:50:59 am »
Sugar, then. Sugar had been full of fire for him as he decided to join them. Teeth into the framing flesh of her mouth, hard. It was distracting, seeing the texture protest against her continued, deeper abuse. He let her have her anger at first, having expected something unwelcoming for inviting himself into their place of business. Then, the honeyed blood came out from that rosy, lower curve, all beneath the blooded honey of her eyes. He was offended by the lust it conjured from him, this alabaster filth that he considered her. Such an insult he had to forget, too, as the beard delivered inside the decaying chariot.

When Dion had recovered from his jealous, inward fit, at her tongue for having cleaned her of red so selfishly, she - who forced him to look back at her with cold challenge in his black to greens eyes - spat out a promise that she did not know him, and underlined with it that she had no interest to. The half smile he offered in reply was demeaning, an owner to rabid critter, as was the usual, starting weapon in the circuits of silver spoons he'd come from.

The judge recognized the marks - Dion had hoped to use them as a badge of a life lived rather than a mark to pinpoint exactly who he was - and pushed the issue. Dion gave the smile to Danny then, and tilted his head with all the spoiled perfume on his behavior. A shrug. The wilting, translucent girl who was most offended barked again, and in her sound Dion found macabre, common ground. He'd come for medicine, but perhaps they dealt in indulgence, rather. Hungry, me too.

Dion didn't hide his interest, but his calm belied its magnitude as he quickly made way, closer to this element of darkness his now gone heritage had shielded him from, and stood with his shoulder alarmingly near Sugar's. He was certain she wouldn't be shy of pouncing on him for continued transgressions, tear in to him until he was forced to bite back, but for now his posture had to suggest he hadn't a worry in the world. He'd have to be a loose statue while she was a lynx.

"Whatever she's having." he said and looked at Danny again, as though Dion's throat wasn't clenching, wretchedly aware of Sugar's proximity. He wouldn't mind bashing her head against a concrete angle so her leaking spirit would take its livid scratching energy elsewhere, he wouldn't mind fucking her within an inch of her wasted life. He wouldn't mind counting her heartbeats by dipping his front teeth into her top vertebrae. No one here was under his father's employment, no one was forced to oblige, so Dion offered what he could, instead, what he knew. "If there's a party I'm going. Bet there's a meat locker somewhere." he didn't know why in the world he'd use that term or how he'd swallow fast enough to save his drowning tongue at the tempting thought. "You're into money, right?" that much they had to believe. His lanky frame - bred to charm as though he couldn't eat all the food in the world - on which the still-in-style jacket hung, and his clean shoes at the end of artfully wiry legs - the misunderstanding that he had money to throw around wasn't a far cry.

He'd come along in the murderous car, sit like some witless prey, or he'd bicker or fight with Sugar right here, as long as there was something for him in the end, that quenched or smothered the hunger-churn making its gyre inside. He had droves of bravado that he'd planned to spend on abstinence, but he found that he'd rather pay with it now, to have something delicious. The lengthy, willow-limbed poet frame, son of a barrel Barron, waited to either plead his case further, or be accepted into whatever debauched reward Sugar wanted.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #5 on: January 24, 2017, 12:10:05 am »
Sugar saw nothing of his demeaning smile. She had crashed through those looks before, sick boys and girls with egos like the sun. Crashed into them like the cold and swallowing moonlight, ripped their cheeks open with her scalding blood, watched them drown in their own disgust. They were feeble, all of them. The ones who wanted to beat the hunger out of others did it so quell their own. Those high and mighty eyes, red with angry tears, sobbing slaves suckling on her flesh like it was all life and all death. She was sure it was always that way.

Truthfully, she was probably wrong, but she’d been right often enough to wear her scars like badges of authority. Danny liked her because of it. Fearless, flippant thing. Not everyone learned to love being tinder as much as they loved being fire. Sugar was voracious. Eat your muscles, eat your mind, the too-vogue girl didn’t care. She was always consuming. It was her turn to smile. Broader when he said juvenile things like they were earning him a place in their world.

“Deer.” She said, because he was food before he was endearing. “You can’t have what I’m having.” Facts, not bravado, and she was a Cheshire cat watching him stumble toward wonderland. Danny whistled low.

“Well, she’s right, more or less.” He admitted, though he gestured with a jerky thumb at the back seat of the car. “But I don’t mind selling to those who will pay. You’ll pay with what you’ve got first, and then I’ll give you what you’ve got enough to get.” He said, almost humming, like it was some sales jingle he’d practiced. It wasn’t, precisely.

Sugar didn’t seem to mind that answer. She didn’t like Dion’s type, but she didn’t have a reason to care about Dion. Sugar was in the business of keeping people in their place. Deer’s place didn’t matter beyond the fact that Deer’s place was not the same as Sugar’s. He wasn’t the same as she was. He was selfish. Prejudiced. A borrower of her red dripping culture. He could sit at the fringes until he’d suffered a bit. Been burnt a bit.

Have what she was having. So utterly ridiculous.

Sugar pushed past the boy and his slim frame lightly, like it was her right and it would be stupid for him to complain. Still, when she threw open the back door of the car and the hinges groaned in protest, she slid to the far side of the row so that he could take the spot behind Danny if he wanted. “We’re wasting time. You only give me fresh presents. I wouldn’t want to let that spoil.” Sugar suggested. She shot Dionysus a glance that said to hurry up or get out of the way. Hungry animals are dangerous, no matter the size.

When they pulled out of the lot, the driver spoke up for the first time. “If you haven’t got enough to pay, Sugar’s usually up for charity work.” He said. Sugar folded her arms across her chest, but laughed too.

“Like he’d know what to do with that.” She said. There was a bit of quiet in the car after that, save some questionable garage band music growling intermittently from the old tape deck. “But he’s right, if you’re willing to grovel.” She said. The smile he received then was equally predatory but a significantly more coy. They usually weren't. They usually did anyway.

Sugar dug in her jacket pocket to produce a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a half-empty lighter. Danny reached back for one without looking. Soon, coils of thick, heady grey were seeping from their lips. 
« Last Edit: January 24, 2017, 12:20:43 am by VenomousEve »

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #6 on: January 24, 2017, 10:12:19 am »
He was very theatrical about ignoring her when she informed him he could not have what she was to be rewarded with. It was likely of no consequence to her, his expressed indifference, she'd not said it in a way that needed reply. The scruffy seller liked the terms enough, though, and there was a seat for Dion on this carriage. Sugar slid in first, passed him with as much consideration as he was due for his intrusion. He nodded at the man and considered the girl who'd taken seat far in.

Beside her soon, hands in his pockets and staring out the window that vibrated with the start of the car. She'd been so explicitly welcoming, after all. Dionysus had a good profile from where she sat. A polished, lithe wraith by design, his angles vivid from her view. The hair was back over the scars, and in his eyes, even. The way she'd spoken about presents, those eyes were desperately glassy with want, anyway. A swallow ran through his defined throat.

He had to smile and play along with the seller when he jested about Sugar's propensity for generosity. Dion turned and considered her for what he wanted. The games he wanted to play would be devastating on her complexion. Her veins were already suggesting the path of his bladed attention. He gave his admiration as an insult that would surely not harm her. Girl like Sugar would have men considering her for her body and guess in its talents all the time. "I can pay you too, Sugar." he promised. No groveling, at least not from the beginning. Who knew how he'd feel if his desires flared, though. He still wasn't sure what they were selling, but he'd not say no to a rumble with her. Maybe folding her beneath him, wildling that she presenter herself as, and then throwing her away could redirect his thrumming hunger for a while. It would be a good memory, at least. "You look like a haggler. Go ahead and flatter yourself." Name a price. They were already engaged in this twining of wits. Better she not smell his inexperience, or shame, yet.

The smoke should well hide it, he hoped as he parted his jacket. He thought further about their product as the road rocked the car. Poor ways, here. He realized he wanted it to be girls with broken ankles, or boys with no shoes - slow or limping unfortunates that people had forgotten, with taut skin and good screams. He wanted them to taste like a nosebleed, or a split lip. He was lying overly when he pretended he only thought Sugar was a rude harlot. He'd have her too, with that neck.

When he realized her wounded lips were putting a mark on the filter she was suckling, he reached confidently, swiftly. He would fight her for it if she didn't think he was being conventional in stealing the stick. He'd swat her hands away and even hold them off until he could pinch the favor and bring it to his own mouth. If they knew what he'd become he was being obvious, and if they didn't he was just another spoiled boy, claiming what his whims demanded. Part of him wished Sugar would loose it and have at him already, do her worst so he could color her in violence also. Dion was fast becoming unhinged behind his airs, with this much promise of a bloody world.

In the end he'd have that cigarette and he would talk in smoke as he nursed it, close. "Mind if we hurry up?" he asked. "Moon tan and I are getting impatient." he pressed with some audacity. It was to be expected from him, and he was truly falling apart inside.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #7 on: January 27, 2017, 03:32:46 am »
Sugar exhaled slowly, the wisps of hot smoke scrawled from her lips like a lewd drip. “I don’t take money. I’m not a whore, Asshole.” She said, Amber eyes on his light cut profile. She took payments in pride and blood, set jaws clenching under the heavy stroke of her tongue. “Right now, you’re not seeming like you’re worth the time. Let Danny sell you a bucket or a boy and be on your way.” She settled back into the musty seat, pale strands catching in the old plush. Honestly, she liked them better when they hadn’t admitted they were hungry at all. His sort seemed to think they were owed something for digging in their teeth.

He reached for her cigarette and she let it go with a soft gasp but no fight. Throaty laugh as she pulled another from her pack with a deliberate hand and shoved it between her lips. It was possible for Sugar to be wrong and admit it. Maybe he could be taught to beg, if he was that kind of desperate. She yawned and a ring of roiling grey seeped forth. “Antagonizing me is kind of wasted here, don’t you think?” she asked him, ashing her cigarette through the cracked window. “New kid.” Because he didn’t know anything beyond his own appetite and all the money and pretend in the world couldn’t rub away that stink.

It was good to be gluttonous. Liberating, even, but Sugar fancied herself to be above his amateur grasps at freedom. Her years plying taboo meats between her teeth made her a wild thing born. To her, he was a stray. Her gluttony was more refined because it was shameless. Blameless. She had never been taught to walk on a leash. Sugar was staring at him with her firebrand eyes. “Maybe you’re proud of yourself or something?” she asked, then huffed as if she already had the answer and turned her shoulders so that she could stare comfortably through the dirty window.

Danny stretched in his seat. “Not everybody is trying to impress you, Sugar.” He remarked. Sugar didn’t move.

“They should be.” She said. Danny bobbed his head a little.

“Yeah. I suppose so.” He chuckled.  “You’re not the nicest kid, Deerest, from what we’ve heard. There was a boy, what was his name… fuck, I don’t know. We called him Bones, though. Shy and weepy. Really skinny. Felt bad about everything. Bad for eating, bad for feeling bad about it.” Danny took a long drag and coughed once. “Heard he ran into some of your old friends. Dunno if you were part of it, exactly, but whatever. Bones took a dive off the bridge a couple of weeks later though.”

Sugar seemed unmoved by the story, but she’d probably heard it a few times by now. “Not that it matters what you were before, little Deer.” She murmured. It wasn’t forgiveness exactly, nor sympathy. Again with the curious facts. They were strange and naked, laid out like that. “But it does make the swagger a little stale.”

And then she was a bit more biting again, annoyed because he thought to speak for her again. “You’re the only who’s impatient. Speak for yourself, you whiny brat.” She snipped. They were probably the same age, or close to it. Still, it was convenient that their driver swerved down a dusty path and lurched the car into the woods then. It wasn’t too long before they had pulled up to an old RV, parked at a neglected camping site. “You really did mean good stuff,” Sugar breathed then, more enthusiasm in her then. Danny whistled a short fanfare.

“For the sweetest girl. Like I said, you’ve been a real help recently.”



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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #8 on: January 27, 2017, 07:31:00 am »
He made sure she had a wink for her trouble of defending her virtue. You would do better than you do now as a whore, that asymmetric blink told her. He took his vacations far from here, where his company was sometimes exactly between the social spheres, his behavior would sometimes spark interest or hatred or both. Back then, he could afford throwing people away for not being his kind of broken, for not missing his brand of abuse.

The lift of his brow encouraged her to go on when she asked him how to better spend his time here, but his eyes were somewhere distant. You are not entertaining me. He took the freedom of inspecting her parts instead of answering her about his pride. He particularly liked her neck, of course, and thought she'd done well to keep her hair short that it could be served up. If he answered honestly, he would have to explain that his smallest efforts were worth more than he now might have from a real struggle. An angry blue-blood, unable find a court. And her veins were pretty garnish, too.

Whether it be to cement her perceived value to him, or simply because Danny appealed more with his topic, Dion looked forward to the seller, the deliverer, and let her question die in the air. A cold blanket clad Dion quickly at the memory of Briar Ention. Beautiful boy who'd been instructed by his parents to climb in echoing halls and expensive cellars. Briar had been your typical omega, but with a sweetness about his small limbs that would reach out to cling to Dion for the kindness he'd shown. Briar wouldn't end this attachment even when Dion played with him until he was left crying on the other end of manhood. Other boys liked to test the new, and Dion was already voracious. Dion wondered if Briar had jumped because Dion had let the others have his body and blood, too, and shared in the banquet, or because of the obvious victim angle. Love or ego.

Would Danny see the palette of self-hatred and carnivorous challenge in the rear-mirror when he looked back at Dion, then? "Are you complaining? Sounds like Bones made for good goods for your enterprise to peddle, all spread out like that." Speaking stung the tongue better than father's spirits. Sugar spoke again and this time he was engaged. "You'll have to make do with stale. We don't-- swagger where I'm from." An asinine, apologetic smile. He was all too grateful for her anger - a brat he could be, in fact, he'd never been anything else.

All the promise of having found a well for his thirsts and a tree for his hungers mixed adrenaline into his skeletal extremities. He was quietly undone when the car took them somewhere seedy and secret, into the trees, and the castle or flaking paint and caking dirt sat there, parked. What could possibly be in it? He looked away from the sight so he could continue his facade of being a prince playing with urchins, but he turned to Sugar by mistake, and she was shown his starvation, written in the shadows under his eyes. Winkles on his cheek and nose asked her what the fuck she was looking at.

"I would like to see." He said and opened his door with some annoyance, the same eager a frustrated lover might use on another lover's jacket. He put his hands in his pockets, fists tight, but stayed by the car. He wanted the RV to bleed into this wretched weather. He wanted it to be saturated. All the money Mother kept him with, even his inheritance before Father realized his affliction, Dion would have thrown it all at Danny's feet. The picture of expecting impatience, he dug his heels into the dirt, waiting. Dark greens turned to the others, imploring them to hurry up. Danny had said explicitly this was for Sugar. Dion had thought he could start with scraps, but he wondered if she could see he might defy her for whatever treasure she'd earned, here.

"Comon. Let's see if you have anything worth my while." His mask was cracking, drawn out Olympian fallen so far. This tavern of filthy nectar. He took a breath and huffed, looking into the woods to see if he could find some solace in bark. He coughed once and lowered his shoulders before looking at them again. A pert frown. "If you'd please." One hand went from its pocket to extend toward the RV, opening an implied door and beckoning the way. The jacket was flawlessly cut, as was his body, all of it out of place with its sheen, out here in the earthy nothing. Still so expectant, blue-blood.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #9 on: January 27, 2017, 05:04:15 pm »
Danny shrugged. “Did I say I had a problem with it? Just said you’re not the nicest kid. Case and point.” He said. “Friends are important, sometimes.” He said. Which was not a suggestion that he’d like to be Dion’s friend. Sugar smiled around the filter. She lived for her friends, after all. Lived off them too. They were all a bit slower out of the car than Dionysus, the car’s driver casting a vaguely pitying glance in their tagalong’s direction. He was hungry, which was how they all were, but he thought he was starving. Sugar, with her monstrosity of an appetite, was never starving. It was best to accept this was all excess they’d die for. It meant they were miserably selfish beings, but self-aware.

Sugar tossed her short white hair and gave Dion a pitiless glance. “I don’t care for peeping toms. You need to conduct your business with Danny, anyway. Or do you not understand that much, either?” she asked. The girl was scrappy, at least, and therefore a continued immunity to Dionysus’ oozing self-importance prevailed in her cheekiness. She shrugged and sidled toward the RV door.

Danny followed her a few paces and the driver stayed close to Dion, as if both men were ensuring she reach the creaking old structure alone. Deerest was volatile and young and there had been more than a few bloody endings in these woods over lesser things. “Sorry, Deerest, it’s the other way around. We’ll see if you have anything worth my while. And Sugar takes her fun alone, so, as a businessman concerned for customer service you’ll have to understand when I tell you to wait your turn.” He was tall and wiry standing outside the vehicle, with aggressively laid ink across his shoulders and down his arms. Despite the chill, he seemed comfortable in his thin undershirt. A certain sort of businessman, then.

“She thinks she’s here to sneak a taste before she goes back to the city.” Danny told Sugar. “I think she’s angry. She’s been waiting in there a while.” Sugar pressed her palms together and skipped a step.

“She sounds lovely.” Sugar said, and disappeared inside. Danny turned back to Dionysus and shrugged.

“Well, cocky prince, you heard the conditions when you got in my car. You pay up first and I see what I’ve got for you. If you give me more than I’ve got to exchange, you keep your cash and I come back to you when I’ve got something worth it. If you’re fixated on something with a heartbeat, you best wait for Sugar to finish up and see if she’s in the mood to throw scraps. I don’t store that sort of thing without a claim already on it.” Danny flicked the remains of his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel. “Sugar doesn’t like to kill hers though.”

There was a loud thud inside the RV and the vehicle bobbed on its flat tires. Danny and his friend were standing between Dion and his only way into the RV with a set to their shoulders that said they weren’t inclined to move until Dion had started making good on his allusions to wealth. “If you’re not in the mood to share and you have the money, I can get you your own by tomorrow night. Otherwise it's parts today, nothing else.”

Verse

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #10 on: January 28, 2017, 12:32:56 am »
He was a peeping tom, though. During the thick of the hazings at the better school, he'd watched children like himself grow into something else before his eyes. He'd lash them and squeeze them together in containers, or have them kiss upside down, hanging from posts, bleeding, to push them into their evolution. At the dawn of his own maturity into to these tastes, he'd mistaken it for healthy, diverse deviancy born from his exposure to their demise and confessions. It is only human, he thought, to want to gnaw until your lover faints, when you've seen such a delectable thing happen.

Dion was envious at the very least when Sugar went with her white body into the gloriously speckled vehicle. There was only Danny and his driver left. Listening to their conversation about what waited for sugar in there fanned the furnace in his chest. It was hard to quell the insult of them keeping it from him with tempered patience, but he did. The two other males were strategically placed between the spoiled buyer and the RV turned feeding ground. Dion listened to the conditions repeated and needed very much to be reminded when the springs were tested in the smallest way. "Mh." he gave as he lifted the cigarette with Sugar's honey still bright on the filter from his pocket. He'd saved it in the car by crushing the ember. He didn't smoke as a habit and relied on Danny to come closer with a lighter.

If he did, Dion would have a thought to catch that too-thin top and pull him in, maybe bite down on the inked shoulder while he crushed a fist through that beard, more than enough to rattle his gray mass to lie him down. Would Danny see the plan as he put orange light to those pedigree features? In the end Dionysus did not go through the two with all his vile learned from boy-on-boy upbringing in stone establishments. He'd only gracefully smoke the once again dying stick and ponder the offer with three loud huffs. If Danny thought any of it was bold, then all the better.

"All of it." he said and pulled up a wallet that still smelt like it was new leather. He didn't suppose the cards would be needed. He always kept a large paper fortune to impress bullies if they ever thought to relieve him, new school and all. Ten bills, pressed. He held them up, folded. Dion wasn't so deep in money he could afford this, anymore, not if he wanted the future he'd have to pay for himself, but he wasn't going to be stingy on their first meeting. The first taste for both of them. "Scraps to take home, Sugar's leftovers, something for me tomorrow." he considered what people here could afford to pay. It shouldn't be more than this. For good measure, he slid four more bills into the offering and then held it out insistently at Danny. It would be tempting again to try murderous tricks to have them both out of his way when the leader took the paper.

"I like something with freckles, this time. Bitterly hopeful. You can make up a story." he smiled innocently and took out the cigarette, blowing its tar vapors onto its own fire, to enhance the glow for a second. Talking about it made him hungrier, but finally placing an order soothed his soul, at least. Dion looked toward the RV with frustration. There wasn't really a bad ending to this. Even if Sugar did snuff the treat in there, their remains would still be warm, their would be pregnant like in a smokebox. His mind was as depraved as the schoolmates he'd bullied and ruined now, anyway. Might as well descend into whatever madness this all lead to.

"So," he said. Small talk was absurd, and they all knew it. Perhaps they could quietly enjoy the joke. "How's the chances for my own hunting around here? Club scene, hangouts?" Not likely Danny or Driver would advise him on how to bypass their business. Another audacity, then.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #11 on: January 29, 2017, 01:05:09 am »
Danny was sluggishly slow as he lit Dion’s half-gone cigarette. He caught the shadow of the younger boy’s plans as they flitted behind the dark moss eyes, but carried on. It would be stupid to follow through, and Dionysus was bright enough to realize that. With all the posturing to this point, it would have been a waste to sully the tentatively drawn arrangement forming here. Like Dion’s momentarily violent ambitions, the cigarette flared an amber like Sugar’s eyes and then dulled to a quiet burn.

Danny arched his remarkably thick brows at the request. “All of it. Well, I do like greedy kids with deep pockets.” He admitted. Sugar was not one of those, but he liked her too. He plucked the bills from Dion’s offering fingers and leafed through the bills while he thought. “This is enough for what you’re asking, more or less.” He said, stroking his beard with his free hand. “Sugar’s leftovers are Sugar’s. It’s kind of rude to give a present and take back what gets left behind.” Danny suggested, though he did shrug and add, “Though it’s also a little rude to leave anything behind.”

“Scraps I’ve got, and they’re a week old held in vodka.” He said. “Which, honestly, would be about this much,” Danny held up three bills. “For the quality more than the quantity, this time.” He supposed it was best to teach this economy now if the eager aristocrat was so inclined to spend his money. “Mostly organs, which are hard to get.” Limbs were easy. There was a group who got off on losing limbs and taking them but never had plans for the parts they removed. A weird inclination that Danny didn’t quite jive with despite his business, but they were a good source once you knew where to look.

There was another ruckus inside the RV that gave Danny pause before he waved the rest of the bills and continued on. “The rest will get you a nice date for tomorrow night. I can probably do freckles, probably can’t promise anything pristine. Untouched pretties brought on order will cost you more than this kind of pocket change.” Danny said. The driver, who’d been more or less silent, was nodding then.

“Most people do their best to pick up the rarities on their own.” He said. It was friendly advice that said he and Danny weren’t worried for their business anyway. Capitalizing on the dark pits of human nature promised a steady income so long as they had the stomach for it.

--

She wore her freckles like a light and unexpected galaxy, spattered across the bridge of her small nose and the soft arches of her cheeks. “I’m worried about him lately. He’s got kind of a frightening look in his eyes.” She sighed and rolled onto her side, muted green eyes some shades lighter than her twin’s.

“You’re always worried about Dion,” Phaedra laughed softly, tucking a long dark strand of hair behind her ear. She said it lightly, but the dark grey eyes, so dark they were nearly black, betrayed her own concern.

“Like any good big sister would be.” Poppy said. Phaedra waved her hand dismissively.

“Older.” She scoffed. Poppy held the twenty-minute age gap she had over her brother in great seriousness, when it suited her. “Still, should we go look for him later? It isn’t as if we don’t know where he’s staying.” Phae suggested. Poppy pursed her lips. Though Phaedra and her mother were dear to the family, they had been spared the details of Dion’s sudden leave from the house.

“You could lose your job if Mom or Dad caught you sneaking after him. I can go alone.” Poppy said lightly. Phaedra’s pretty pink lips curved downward ever so slightly. She was disappointed. Sweet girl.  Poppy stared quietly at the other girl’s back as Phae went back to tidying up Poppy’s vanity. They had more or less grown up together, but there was a curious distance now. Now that Poppy and Dion had a secret and Phaedra hadn’t awoken to the same desires. “He’s just being difficult. I’m sure he’ll come home soon.” Poppy suggested. She had always had a bit more self-control than Dionysus.

--

Danny frowned. “Hunting sounds kind of vulgar.” He said, and he didn’t seem to find it ironic. “But the city is better for not getting locked up, if that’s what you’re asking. Around a place like this, consent is important or you’re getting scraps. You’re a rich kid, aren’t you? You should know everybody knows everybody out here.” He said. Danny had his connections elsewhere, and that was why Danny ran the trade out here.

“You can go take a peek through that window if you want.” He said abruptly, shoving his thumb over his shoulder. “She says she doesn’t like peeping toms, but she’d doesn’t actually mind it. Just as long as you know what’s hers is hers, Sugar is as sweet as her name.” He pocketed the bills. “Or, if that’s not your thing I can just go get your bucket now.” He folded his arms across his chest. “No real reason to keep you around unless you’re planning to wait on her.”

If he did venture a peek, Sugar was laying on the bed, jacket discarded and painted in red and satisfaction. The other girl on the bed was still breathing, barely, and slack-jawed as she drooped against the headboard. Sugar had her fingers knuckle deep in the girl’s forearm and her teeth around her wrist; the girl was already lacking in a good portion of her throat. If Sugar wore autumn well, she wore blood and abandon better.     

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #12 on: January 29, 2017, 05:40:49 am »
It was an unexpected relief to hear the money had been enough. Small sigh in smoke. How mortified Dionysus would have been if this place and its foremost tradesmen were too hefty for his treasury. He could wait to see what the girl would let him have. Dion made no sign of being content with that in front of Danny, though. Taking food from someone else's discarded plate seemed like another meaningful milestone in this continued descent. The shame hummed well in his head filling with smoke. Most of it was shaken to nothing by the swimming excitement of it all.

A grin for the revealed price for scraps. Dion nodded at that, even. Good to know. Not even as high as appetizers at the favorite family eatery, where Poppy liked to make sure he ate, at all. He pushed this moment, the acuteness, over her memory for now. She shouldn't be here with all her understanding. Organs. "Vodka is good." he'd drink it as an insult to his parents. A gasp, outside of the character he was playing, at the thought of eating a heart or a liver. Decadence in his new, filthy world.

"Then I'll start out with whatever you can get me." he said and was already anxious for tomorrow. Why had he requested freckles? Pictures of a brightly smiling sister would tell him, on the background of his phone. He didn't have time for such introspection now. "Pristine next time, though, yes? I'll pay whatever you want. I have gold and rocks too, if you deal in it." But really, he was paying with his shame and his past life, not fat rings and gaudy necklaces. All her could do was pretend he was right at home here, dealing with death and mutilation for a menu.

The city it would be, for his own stalking. Somehow hearing it from Danny made it more of an option. Good advice. This dealer was good when you payed him well. There was plenty of affection in it, Dion was sure. Best friends now, brothers, really. "Don't get the bucket." slipped before he could contain all of the urgency in his voice. Dion hated himself for the stagger in posture, but he needed to see what was going on between Sugar and her price. No need to pretend after that, only hope it wasn't a show of weakness in Danny's eyes.

Long legs pressed the dirt all the way to the window. The lusts swirled up in his blood and flushed his throat with a breath too dense, too sudden, when he saw Sugar's feast. Green eyes caught the little light of this blueing forest as he heard every heartbeat cracking through him. If she looked back, perhaps alerted by the reflection, she would see the truth of his lack. He was hollow, really, thirst and hunger set for the girl who'd become her prize. Reduced to just an image, an expression of desire then. Dion wanted Sugar too. To beg her to let him have some of the meat, as she had said he should, or just a taste of hers. And then, when all his dreams continued to be eaten by all his nightmares, in there, he had to turn away.

He came back to Danny, past him, with an abundance of frustration but none of it threatening to become ballistic toward the two men. He came to stand by the door. "I'll wait." he muttered and swallowed, turned away from the four other eyes. His bones were withering and his muscles were strained to jump. Good thing rich boys can stand well in their sleep. None of Phaedra's playfulness, or Poppy's understanding here.

Just the blood and the girls, one thin barrier away. He thought he could smell them, seeping through the door. Danny could see sinew strung over jutting muscle on his jaw.
« Last Edit: January 29, 2017, 05:51:29 am by Verse »

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #13 on: February 01, 2017, 05:29:05 am »
Sugar was slurping, tugging at the tendons she’d hooked her teeth into and pressing her tongue hard against the twitching muscle. The girl was moaning softly, delirious and dying, nerves frantic and breath shallow. Sugar liked it when the blood was hot; better to take it when it was pulsing from their veins and bathing their flesh. She lifted her face in time to catch Dion’s shadow across the window and his hungry eyes on her prize. She smiled for him, slick pink teeth and autumn eyes.

Danny watched the boy’s back, his eager slipping around the edges of his ego to afford a more honest image. There was Deerest, then, that had begun skulking around and asking for treats. High society boy with a lowbrow hobby. That kind of thing was artistic in movies and kind of sad in life. Danny stayed put. Sugar would probably offer to share. He didn’t have to give himself up that way. Danny wondered if it was because he was starving or because he had no self-control or both. He almost wanted to say something. People died in this spiral if they didn’t find their own brand of control.

Dion came back to them when he seemed to have had enough of Sugar’s antics. If Danny had to guess, she’d probably just found her way into the girl’s belly, hunting for the darker lobes that fanned beneath her bony cage. Sugar would devour a heart if it was given to her, but she’d rarely bothered to pluck them herself. Something about the finality of it had never struck her fancy, though she was content to leave the poor offerings to die drowning in their own fluids.

As if on cue, she appeared at the door. Bloody mess on her stark white face. “Hey, Deer, I’m feeling charitable. You’ll find sharing is more fun, in the long run.” Sugar said. It was true. Silly kids with their backseat erotica, like they knew raw intimacy because they enjoyed the sweat. It was nothing against the primal communion of bodies over another, devouring dance that never required contact to be thrilling. “I’m assuming what I’ve got in that room is better than anything you’ll be getting today. Are you in the mood to try making a better first impression?” she asked. Somehow she must have seen herself as being quite kind, giving him that sort of chance. Self-made queen with the brand of her subjects in half moon stitches.

Sugar was holding out her hand, dark and dripping. “There’s plenty left inside.”

--

Poppy sat in the empty summer house, cradled in a bay window overlooking the lake. It was on the outskirts of town, equidistant from the city and their posh, forested suburbs. An old purchase, before their father had picked up a real beach house out on the coast. This place had been Dion’s and her favorite for some years now. Nobody officially used the place, though they still paid to have it maintained. A childhood haunt turned adolescent refuge, more than a few of their school’s parties had been hosted on their dock. It was quiet now.

Dion’s luggage was on the floor. She’d been sure he would have been staying there, but she’d also been sure he’d be there when she showed up. He was not, and it concerned her more than she cared to admit. Her green eyes were steady, peering out the window. A breathless afternoon drawing on a chill evening. He ought to be back soon enough.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #14 on: February 02, 2017, 07:15:20 am »
Dion was still holding on to the smile she'd given him through the old glass. Standing by the door now, he was stuck at the pleasant expression she'd worn. Lovely little snow thing with automatic jaws and filling aura. When there was muted ruckus his posture steeled and his hands fled into the jacket again. She had too much power over him in there, he had to collect his wits. But his spine made out of doubt, locked into all the old defenses, followed the roll of a sigh when Sugar showed herself and much of the eaten girl's ghost escaped around him. It smelt like all the abandons, and speckled the skin on his cheeks with breathed kisses.

He didn't have the hard face he'd prepared when her hand offered him his inherent addiction in the only ink he could accept. Not for cost to his self, as he'd come to build it with products in his hair and frowns at the less fortunate, but for a temporary halt of his loud posturing. He thought that he should linger on the offer but his hands had already climbed out of their pockets, and the jacket with fine lining slid off his violin arms. Like an urchin taking the invitation of a noble into a warm restaurant, he held some deeply engraved doubt first, and then a shrill relief with quivering hope when he wet his palm on hers.

If she took him to the woman, who had mostly gone, he would be unbelieving at first. His hand wound closer around hers. He was not the angry senior herding new meat to discover their teeth or the entitled son of a titan beside her in her dealer's car. He stayed behind her, thinking of how he'd been up all of the summer night when he discovered the pleasure of giving girls flowers. When Poppy woke the morning would unwrap her under his gifts. Wild stems and their colored crowns, kind, furry wonders all over her nightgown and her collarbones. The dying girl's wrist looked like that, and reminded him of the roses he plucked only once and ornamented Poppy's thighs with. She'd bled peeling them off and he'd been devastated, but if the twins were honest, then was when his tastes had started. He still had the bandages he'd salvaged from her room.

Of course, the massacre that held garden on Sugar's girl resembled more of Phaedra, when she'd let him ornament her with fiery, dense carnations and saffron threads from the kitchen, their chef's stash, where her mother worked. He looked fast at Sugar, this was her winding feast, and then back at the breathing food. Soon his hand would let her be, and all that ink, so he could put a knee close to the girl. "I..." he started, looking up at Sugar, and all the evidence she was his upper classman here. Even though he was asking for permission or guidance in some way, his hand that she'd warmed moved by itself without his supervision, lining a crater Sugar had dug with her teeth. "Sugar." he asked. May I? Should we? There was no sister or dear friend to forgive him, this time.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #15 on: February 06, 2017, 02:51:48 am »
Sugar was his white rabbit, bloody paws tugging him toward wonderland. Her firebrand eyes were trained acutely in the quivering shifts in his expression. Not such a prince then, much more a deer, and she liked him a bit better for it. There was potential to devour the pride in him, the ego he had hung so eagerly from his jacket when he’d first approached the car. She threaded her fingers between his. “You aren’t hopeless after all, are you?” she laughed. Sugar could be naïve that way, playing easily into the facades that pleased her. Her snapping vitriol upon realizing she’d been deceived had been her saving grace, of course, sharpening the white teeth in her white face enough to retain her royalty in this world.

Still, if Dion was trying a new deception, it appealed deeply to her delight in possession. She could entertain this breathlessly eager sapling, long limbed pretty asking for permission in the syllables of her name. Sugar was rummaging in the tiny closet, cramped by the edge of the bed. The girl displayed on its stained covers was dead beyond the fragile and wispy exhales that were growing fewer and farther between.

Sugar stood straight and turned back to him with an old toolbox in hand. “I’m a nice girl, once you get to know me. I’ve never had a problem with sharing. It’s better when we’re all friends, you know. Or something like that.” She set the toolbox on the bed. “You have your fun. You can use what you need to get to the hard parts.” Sugar said practically.

She moved to take a seat on the free side of the bed. “I don’t like them when they’re like this. I’ll take a small break.” Sugar told him. Until she’s dead. She sucked lightly at the tip of her thumb. Her expression said she was there, too, for the show. Whatever this Deer had to offer. Sugar hooked one ankle over the other and gestured toward the mess that was a girl with an encouraging wave. “Don’t hesitate. We both know you’re hungrier than that.”

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #16 on: February 06, 2017, 07:47:40 pm »
He smiled emptily, the way the hungry do, when Sugar allowed him his freedom with this flesh. The rattling box she presented was so crude, but it was not out of place on this scene. He was somewhere primal, using the tools of the natives for the novelty of it. As though he had spoken his reluctance, he shook it away and dipped two fingers into the ditch in the girl’s arm. Plenty of sap there. He could feel sporadic heartbeats in that pool and lifted his fingers back to his mouth. How wonderfully real the iron made it all. He laid a digit deeper, caressing the jagged bottom of that babbling wound and then tasted again, raking nails over his tongue.

He stared at Sugar, who’d said he was hungrier than this, hands on the girl for support as he lowered his head. How could Sugar not like them like this, exhausted in their wait to pass. He was succumbing now, irreparably, to the loveliness or her wilt. So the green in his eyes that was always loosing tried to fight the darkness here, also, as he focused on the rabbit, as he started lapping from the human bowl. It was intimate to look at her while tasting. Pallid, hungry woman, queen of this locker, who’d said he was not hopeless. Those eyes rolled as he lifted to stare at the ripples in the puddle of the generous arm he’d drank from. Awe at how much power it infused him with. Diamonds in his belly. So he forgot Sugar for a stark moment and kissed the gash deeper, making the dying girl react ever so slightly. It was her way of screaming and thrashing, but she’d never have that kind of strength again.

But something he used to believe in pulled him up again, whipped him tall, automatic, and he panted at the ceiling, throat pumping rings up and down for Sugar to see. It was some kind of wrong, wasn’t it? Not for the girl’s life – he was not invested in her survival – but wasn’t it a sin for him to have all that he could want? Such pleasures were reserved for the end of one’s time. But as he tried to tame the concept in his burning mind, his hand lifted without him knowing or seeing, gathering the girl’s hair and tilting her head back. Sugar had already made a hole in her neck, and when his hand offered it by lifting her to him, Dion looked down. He was on his knees and dropped further, quietly humming every time he bit into the chewed outskirts of the gape Sugar had kissed into existence.

Such small bites. A careful, curious eater. His face stayed longer to her cheek every time. And then, as her breaths were rare like bridges between fathers and sons, he was simply holding her by her temples, keeping his nose to hers. Planning a courtship of her lips with his, whether it involve teeth or just tongue. Sampling made him hungry, but there were too many flowers on this girl. He couldn’t think beyond Poppy, always her ghost in these things. In a telling motion he laid her head back and turned her face away so he could sit down and lift her wrist, sucking a digit before freeing it with a crunch, holding it her palm with both of his as though he was having bread. Before he swallowed he took the thumb too, and pulled it free in both directions. Such loud undoing of the bones.

If Sugar meant to know Dion, perhaps she would celebrate this layered performance of hesitations, but if she’d hope to be overwhelmed by mayhem, she would surely go home disappointed. He found part of himself in the girl, scent of metals, and wondered if he could allow himself this addiction, if it was rooted in the girls he loved. As the shards of her hard bits cut him on their way down, he touched his lips and breathed as though he was sparing a candle in front of him. Blood on his every beautiful. A Deer that ate another. He searched this new tainted Eden for Sugar, and saw her eventually on the other side of the willingly dying girl.

“I can’t. Help me.” But there was too much will in his eyes for this to be it. He’d only made love to this leaving body, when he should just consume it. What he really wanted was some mercy, that she either throw him out of this soaking garden or lodge him deeper into its flora. His first time in this freedom. He didn’t know to listen to himself screaming. He’d not washed his sister from his desires yet. He needed to be more than this. Whatever Sugar responded, however she led him, might shape the kind of carnivore he would become. She could be selfish about it, and make him a spectacle in her name, or she could nurture whatever she saw. He licked his never clean lips like he was parched but his was drenched. Or she could ignore him for the satisfaction of it, and revel in his disintegration. He was essentially an ungrateful thing, for all she knew. Couldn't it be grand to fan him and see him flare? Wouldn't it be glorious to see him spent? “Sugar.” Hurry, or I’ll expire.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #17 on: February 07, 2017, 04:37:40 am »
She watched him press into the girl like it was his first time, halting as if the restraint were purposeful. Young buck without a clue, flirting with ego and no substance. Sugar could appreciate this contrast with the cocky boy who’d played at knowing her. He took digits while the dying one suffered and it made Sugar’s tongue slick. An awful sight, really, gut-wrenchingly wrong to watch children feast on one another. She shivered because it was wonderful. Sugar was happy to hold his stare, eager to see him break first. It was a given he would, because Sugar had nothing to break for.

When he asked for health she laughed at him. “Don’t say that. You don’t want help, right?” she said, though she sat forward to bring her pale moon face near. “You want permission.” She told him with that wide bloody smile, reaching to thumb the round of his lip and steal a taste there. He’d taken as much from her on the paper of her cigarette.

Sugar sat back again. “Which is weird for you Deerest, probably. Forceful by design until you get what you want and now,” she paused, syllables hanging like strands of pink saliva between her teeth. Touched her cheek. “If it makes you feel better you can ask me to share as many times as you like.” She laughed. The ocher flares were bright and hungry. Not for the body there, wasting faster than Dionysus, but for the character she hoped he had. She didn’t like his kind, which meant she could love it. “And make love to her bones with your tongue and suffer for it, or whatever.” Flippant, but she meant it.

She curled her legs beneath her and sat onto her knees. Folded her hands onto her lap like she was about to say something very good and proper. “Deerest, you have what you want. Take it or leave and give up. It’s not worth wasting on you if you can’t enjoy every inch of your guilt.” She reached to pull the girl’s shirt up high and dug her fingers against the torn flesh of her belly. “You’re better this way, aren’t you?” she asked and leaned to press her lips to a drying gash. It was an invitation to continue his exploration, a wolf entreating a deer to taste his own prettiness.

-

Phaedra was quiet with her back to the wall, a dusting cloth held to her chest like a rosary. On the other side of the doorframe, Dion’s parents spoke in hushed tones. Worry for their son and quiet sympathy for their daughter. “It runs in your side of the family. Don’t cry like that, you knew it might come.” the Mister was saying. Soft sobs.

“Our darling girl is so strong, so good. It must be hard on her to keep it all in… and to watch Dion go off and do such a thing…” the Missus was sniffling. There was a butcher who’d left town very suddenly, though this and other dazzling families had kept him employed for rare cuts for years. Phaedra pressed her palm over her lips to hold back a gasp. “That man was barbaric, bringing him that---that… oh, our baby boy.” The Missus was beside herself. Phaedra was silent in her getaway.

She fled to Dion’s room, under the pretense of tidying and with the intention of looking for evidence contrary to his parents’ distress. When she closed the door behind her, she found her heart was racing. Poppy hadn’t mentioned anything, so it mustn’t be true. But then, no matter how dear the friend, what a thing to confess. Phaedra wrenched the cloth between her hands. “Dion, Poppy, you’d never be like Them, would you?” she breathed to the stale air of his abandoned bedroom. It hadn’t been all too long since he’d left but she felt, with her soft heart, that she hadn’t seen his dark fern eyes in ages.

Verse

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #18 on: February 07, 2017, 07:06:18 pm »
It was distressful, beyond the task of having morsels that were seasoned with life running through as it left, to be laid bare by her collection of paper bright features. A flick on his heart as she confessed for him, and left him none of the reward of self-discovery, but a lot of the release of realization. The green trails in his night time eyes shifted. Permission. Perhaps he wanted her to take the burden and let him roam free, throwing his desires around without accountability. Nothing on his tally if he acted through her. He tried to be stoic when she smeared another truth from his lips. What an animal she was at this distance.

It seemed so easy when she mused about it, this act. He dreamed a handful of things about the girl’s bones when Sugar mentioned them. All he wanted. But he’d been told he shouldn’t. He had damned and crushed other children for this inclination. And still, he’d paid the butcher handsomely to bring him scarps, unholy. So he nodded without knowing when she said she was available to share. A hand to hold. A comfort, but the deed had to be his. It was better than being so happy it would ruin the rest of his life.

He woke from the trance, and saw the room for its flaws and disarray around her when she sat. She could see the stiffness take his spine and sternum. Deer. Phaedra sat like that, sometimes, when she had silver to polish, and the siblings were on the floor already, calling for her attention as a friend. But memories like that, along with much of who he thought he was, came off him like angst on Friday when Sugar exposed the girl, undressed her abdomen, which had already been pampered with teeth. There were many parts of the boy monster that was drawn in by Sugar, sitting pale, offering a willing, fading thing, by rolling its shirt up. He was on his hands also, coming low to lap the edges on the other side of the lovely hole.

He licked carefully, and studied what Sugar did opposite him. She didn’t have a hitch in her motions, and he adapted. Better this way. He nodded, so long after she’d asked the question. A quick moan into an enjoying huff before he ate deeper, head brushing Sugar’s temple. His hunger brought him over the expanse of the carnage, to Sugars bank of the lake. He nuzzled her cheek carefully, to see if he could have some of the places she was taking from, as though all of this girl wasn’t Sugar’s already. It was so simple, if he watched the pale wolf eat.

He flicked his tongue quizzically on the corner of her mouth, crowding her with his searching head, nose to her cheekbone so he could try and hook the tip of his tongue inside her cheek. He was a bit more confident about the ordeal now. She had lent him as much. Spoiled Deer, after all, budding to be a bull with serrated antlers. All the while, he had to reconcile the image of his girls at home when they wore flowers, since he couldn’t escape that mirage here.

He kissed Sugar’s cheek a little harder, with forward force, to have her move so he could try exactly where she was chewing. It wasn’t unusual feeding behavior in a four-legged world. His heart was falling further into this, now. He could never have been anything other than what he was becoming.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #19 on: February 09, 2017, 03:47:53 am »
Sugar shifted to give him space at her banquet, but left their space intimate. It would have been difficult not to. A shared filth, then. She did not shy from his touch, welcomed it at first, and ate deeper, reaching to push with her fingers and seek the lobes of that iron-rich organ blossoming. She’d been nibbling there just before she’d gone to find her novice playmate.

She let him taste the stains on her lips, ocher eyes observing. The girl must have felt he overstepped his bounds, pressing to close to her self-assigned royalty, when he drew to take what she’d pushed between her own teeth. Her slick fingers were out of the growing cavern and hooked around his jaw, needle digits digging against his chin. “Say please, next time.” She said, low. But she gave him what she’d been chewing at anyway, kissed his mouth so that they shared it, and then pressed to take a taste from his tongue. It was hungry, but not the way he might have been accustomed to. Blushing girls and their downcast eyes. Sugar was not that sort of creature. But he'd not come into that old trailer to be her lover, either. If it had not been for the obvious limitations of her physique, she might well have tried to devour him whole. For now, an exchange because he’d tasted her mixed with this unfortunate girl. She kissed him like she was entitled, moving to take small bites and kissing him again. Food for a pup. Then she pushed his face away.

Sugar sat up then, suddenly uninterested in the great wealth left in that husk. “Have the rest, if you like. I’ll stay until you’re done, in case you lose your spine again.” She said. “And, I suppose, you shouldn’t be left alone for the first time.” First time you kill someone. As if she was absolved because it would be his teeth on that girl when she rattled her last. “It’s alright if you cry, after.” That wolfish smile again. He could taste her again, if he cried. An even exchange if she could drink his tears. It was marvelous, in a way, that she should expect him to find that desirable. But then, they were here. One vice to wind a bit tighter. Sugar reached to touch the back of his neck, pushing him to continue eating.

She wanted to watch him blossom into shame or depravity, self-loathing or abandon. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was restrained to the point of art. “Honestly, if it’s a good enough show, I don’t mind making you my pet for a while. I can show you where everything good is.” She was sighing, stretching, and lounging back. The tools rattled in their box. In the city late at night, dreams spun on liquor and drenched in sweat and blood. An offer hung out on a sharp hook, if he wanted it. “I’ll introduce you to my friends so you can stop lying about knowing me.”

If he was a wise boy, he’d understand he wasn’t special and that her offer came with a tangled web. Which was to say he might lose his life and love the fall if he did not find his own footing on the way. Sugar for the flies. He'd do well to make himself a spider. If he was not a wise boy, he might have supposed she was being kind.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #20 on: February 09, 2017, 06:37:08 pm »
She scolded him for the intrusion, keeping his chin in place and teaching him the magic word. He’d not meant anything by it, it was just the moment, beckoning him to explore every impulse. Meat from the girl was different from the pieces Sugar had picked. He nodded because she was giving him rules of their kind. Gratefully he kissed her back and received the bites that had more of her tongue than blood on them. A different nuance, and he tried it enthusiastically, eyes disappeared into the new thing, until he swallowed and continued on the girl below. When Sugar came back with her lips and more pieces she’d chosen for him, he kissed her deeper. The contact and petal communion was part of it. At a point, he caught Sugar’s head to bring her back.

He didn’t think long on her sudden bore with the two or three heartbeats left on the mattress. During dinner with candles and frocks running around holding silver trays he’d be more concerned when the interest of others waned, living well also hurts the person, but he was too ensnared in the freedoms here to consider her elitism, if that was what she was expressing. He was back on the girl without pause, invested in his own side of the abdominal lake now that Sugar wasn’t on the other bank anymore. As he took more, Sugar filled his head with thoughts of death, his own first murder. It felt so distance, and far inferior in impact to any of the tastes available here. Cry. How absurd.

He wondered what the function of Sugar’s pet was as he licked his mouth slowly, turning to start rolling the top higher, until a supported breast saw the lack of light in this saturated place. He loved both the idea of impressing Sugar and being allowed a pathway to her underworld. So he looked Sugar in the eye as he lifted the round flesh out of its lacy cup. This particular girl had not lied with the stuffing of her frames, said the full orb pressed up awkwardly by the supporting lingerie. He kept on Sugar’s gaze as he descended, stabbing hot teeth into still hot skin. The girl took another breath, counting down. The texture was delicious. He was not new to trying this, but he had never broken through before. A moan hummed through the tit at his satisfaction, and the approval flaring in his eyes might look akin to anger to Sugar.

He was inspired in his chest and it fanned out from his lungs to his shoulders. A familiar voracity. After that he didn’t know Sugar anymore, but looked at the girl. It was his own expression, that he’d only share with the prettiest of the witless debutantes of his circles. A bit of aggression underneath, a bed, he was always a little angry, but also envy – you lucky girl – with the appropriate narcissism, all with a heavy tint of affection and urgency. His passion was like this when he sat on her legs and took her hair to force her face into a good, close position. More of the stag, ruminating off the girls lips until her teeth were naked.

He was filled with soft parts, and wanted resistance for his teeth. He took up her hand, the side where Sugar saw, and held it as his other set of fingers flicked the girl’s chin to tip it. His clasp of pearl weapons around her throat, and he shook a little, putting strength into his jaw until that tunnel broke. He squeezed the hand harder as he hollowed her out. At the end, when his ears were filled with the march of crackling cartilage, she was breathing. He sighed through the beautifully tough mouthful and nuzzled her gratefully. With his temple resting on the tip of her chin, something predatory finally at peace with the creature it so frantically hunted, he looked at Sugar again, grinding the last helping on his tongue. His hand was still in hers.

In way he was asking to be graded, judged, but he wasn’t very worried for rejection, because he had been honest, eating like this. He felt as though he revealed more than he’d intended, a bit like Sugar had coaxed him into this before he was ready, even if it was his destiny. But it was a fleeting offense, diluted to nothing in the catharsis. “I think our next date should be in the city, then. Your friends will be happy to see me.” Blueblood again, wearing a ruby crown around his mouth.

He would make his way over to her were she laid eventually, encasing her legs in his and his arms a bit like he had the now dead girl. "You're prettier than I thought." he said and tugged at her short hair. Pink from being so white, and his fingerprint so crimson. He was fed now, drunk on the chemicals that their kind derived from humanity, so he wasn't part of the reich where Sugar ruled, anymore, unless he wanted to safeguard passage soon again. He always held these things loosely. "I'd introduce you to my friends too, but I think we'd both be ashamed, then." he examined her strangeness, her composition. Coldly odd, her look. Something wrong. She was icy exotic. Freak. "You'd probably take it as a compliment, their rejection." he mused, his blood pumping fairy tales all over his life. Ever after everywhere. "If you're in to that kind of thing, I'll make a few calls, have someone come over and wash you, put you in real clothes."


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #21 on: February 10, 2017, 05:04:07 pm »
She had hopes for tinder that were snuffed readily, and she frowned with some measure of disappointment before growing bored. She liked the ones who balked at the loss of humanity, theirs and their meal’s. It was a non-trivial event, taking a life. The quiet traumas made the sweetest desperations later, and that was the garden Sugar cared to cultivate. This Deer playing Stag, angry and proud because he was born to be, was annoying at best. She was not a farsighted girl, a scavenger more than stalker. She’d been weary of Dion in the car and she was weary of him now. She might be less so tomorrow, but that wasn’t for today’s Sugar to care about. A solipsistic creature in her white vanities.

He was pretty to watch with his cold heat; tempered seething and offense. Sugar was disinclined to delight in it. “Scraps for the vultures.” She said. “But vultures are fine in their ways.” She shrugged. “You are less interesting than I had hoped.” She said. It was not a lie, but it wasn’t true either. The honey eyes rolled. “No.” she said, and rubbed a scab of the girl’s blood with her fingernail, flicking it between her lips. “Dates are for equals and we’re not.” She said and laughed. Greedy girl who’d not gotten her way. But such was the gamble with sharing. It had been good enough. It was fine for Dion to place himself on the upper hand of that proposed comparative. Dull boy without any attachment to life, plucking up that poor corpse there. He was crude and in her debt, by her estimation.

Sugar cackled. “Should I be flattered?” she asked. She was gourmet. That body, white and etched, cared for other senses before the eyes. She would have happily been grotesque. He prattled on, stacking up a cheap kingdom on the threshold of her underworld. “Don’t worry, Deer, special boy all your life. I’m no masochist and your world is dry as shit.” She told him. She rummaged in her pocket to locate another cigarette and drew a lighter to it. Lounging, like this was a post-coital smoke alongside her mangled mess of a lover.

Danny appeared in the doorway moments later. It was likely he’d followed them back into the RV to wait, what with his timing. Sugar smiled at him. Sweeter for an old friend. “You pick such nice presents, Dan.” She said. Danny nodded.

“Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll count on you to continue directing business our way.” He said. Theirs was a quiet symbiosis. Sugar never agreed to advertisement and Danny never paid, but the girl was happy to drag new friends into his den. He glanced at Dion. “Lucky day, I guess.” He said, though his tone implied typical behavior. To Sugar again: “You want a ride back to town?” he asked. She nodded and extracted herself from Dion’s arms.

“Yes, please.” She said. Danny jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. Max was probably waiting in the car already. Sugar kissed Danny’s cheek on her way by and left without further ceremony. Danny was still in the doorway, watching Dion when they heard the old car pull away outside.

“I’ve got your bucket in the kitchen.” He said. “I’ll have your other purchase here tomorrow. Max can pick you up from where you met us today.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sugar doesn’t seem to like you much. Which, I guess, means you made an okay first impression.” He said, shrugging. “But that probably also means you don’t care, right?” he chuckled. “Dumbass kids.” He went back out to leave Dion alone until he chose to follow and receive his purchases. He did not offer Dionysus any means of transportation out of the woods, but he’d been a tagalong from the start.

It was, then, a dubious fortune that Dion’s phone would begin to ring. Poppy on the line. “Where are you? I know you’re staying at the lake house and I’ve been waiting for over an hour. What are you doing?”     

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #22 on: February 10, 2017, 10:08:52 pm »
Underneath the cover of red girl his mouth hardened in tandem with the swelling of the angles of his jaw. The tilt of his head for her suggestion he was not as interesting as he let on hit him like ivory hall insults, and so he treated it as such, with a slow blink and an invisible shrug. It was worse to say he was not at her level, though as much should be clear, here, but he'd already clad himself in boardroom armor. "It is dry and shitty." he admitted. And he wanted back, at least he wanted the choice. It goes: stand, fall, climb, fly.

He was hypnotized by her cigarette again. She'd already seen the trick, him stealing the one she'd kissed in the car, so he wouldn't get this one. Her comfortable disposition did leave some kind of familiarity open, even if her poise was somewhat final, too. It was awakening to feel her leave once Danny came. Dion stood, also. The blood was becoming cold on his face and arms. It had not been a mess, considering he'd not meant to spare the shirt that had only a few streaks.

Dion nodded to the dealer and the continued business. He still wanted the vodka and the organs. "I'm no one to like, very much." he said on the way. "Not yet. I'm sure we'll grow on each other. And you and I, too." He smiled at the bucket, and took it by its handle. A bottle of water washed the girl away from his skin. The phone was a good excuse to leave without whatever small talk or silence Danny liked.

Holding her glowing picture in his bloody hands shook him, and he pressed the laughing sister fast against his cheek, shouldering the door to get out, bucket swinging. He didn't want her voice in here.

"I had to get some food." he said and sat the container down so he could get his jacket back on. "You shouldn't have come." he scolded her. Automatically his legs took him the way the car had come and gone. The reception was exceptional out here. Not even human animals could hide from satellites. "But it's good to hear you." he said, sweeter for his beautiful sister. She'd traversed the ivory with him, drank from crystal glasses when all they wanted was to run through the parking lot of shining cars until they could stomp the grass. "I miss you. I miss Phae. It's hard to sleep." he sighed as he looked at the road. "Will you stay until I come? I want a kiss." Was it selfish to want her clean lips on a cheek that had been the scene of death itself? He licked his teeth.

"Will you stay the night?" he asked as he walked no sidewalk toward a bus stop he'd spotted on the way here. He had old but beautiful sheets. There were an abundance of rooms.

The bucket sloshed and he was so tense about it spilling, the tension made his bones hurt. As though taking the buss wasn't mortifying enough. Dad had technically given him the pretty, vintage ride in the lake-house garage. Two wheels could be a good facade for the kind of life he lead now, in the ruins of his old riches. To wear rags as though intentional. He thought about the cost of fuel as he walked toward the home he'd taken for his own.

Sugar, the forever grinning girl, Danny the dealer - they were all stars, specks of extinction in the beyond of the vault of his head when Poppy was the close summer sky. But he had to remember them a little more when the bucket knocked on the door as he worked the lock open. He'd seen lights.

"Poppy?" he asked the house when the door opened slower than it should, for the price his father had paid. Not all the zeroes in all the accounts can grease hinges, and this place was Dion's because it was forgotten. He didn't shed his jacket, and turned quickly into the kitchen to put the bucket into the admittedly full fridge. He'd been here for a while, after all.

He turned his collar up to keep his jacket closer. She mustn't see the blood. But he needed her now. "I'm home." he declared and sighed with such relief it almost hurt. If she was here he could have a semblance of peace.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #23 on: February 13, 2017, 04:41:34 am »
Poppy sighed into the phone, bodily static, and did not answer at first. “You shouldn’t have come, he says, and then will you stay the night?” she mused. Teasing, but not benign. For her, he had ripped their family apart with his heedless teeth. “Mom and Dad won’t like it. It’s a school night, you know.” They shared their grade but not their class. “I can tell them I’m staying with Vera, I suppose.” She sighed again, like she was trying to write him into some overly pressed schedule. Poppy had always been like that, though. Like she took her job as the older sibling seriously. Or, rather, she did when it suited her. They had always been twins when she was afraid of being scolded; she was eldest when it made her exemplary. Perhaps it was endearing.

“I’ll wait until you get back, at least. Then we’ll see if I’m really headed to Vera’s or not.” Poppy suggested. As if she needed the upper hand in this. He must be lonely. She would have been. Poppy wasn’t cruel. She said nothing of the kiss he’d requested.

They had traversed the budding of their adolescence together, when kisses had become something secretive rather than sweet. The pretense of experimentation was potent, though innocent at its core. She had become chaste about it in the following years, distributing the taste of her lips on his cheeks and his forehead with adequately feigned reluctance. It was not so surprising that she had been ashamed rather than thrilled when they’d learned their second bloody blossom some short months ago.

She was sitting in the great room, lit by the amber glow of an antique lamp their mother had been smitten with many summers ago. Toes curled and knees high, a book propped on her lectern thighs, and a slow upward glance when she heard her name. “It’s about time.” She said, because it would have taken a good deal of time for him to walk from the woods and find sufficient public transportation to this place. That was, after all, a good part of this particular property’s charm. “You took forever. I would have just gone to Vera’s if I’d known you were going to crawl the whole way.” She said, unfolding herself as she folded the book with a snap.

Poppy was very good at being annoyed with Dion, as a sister is wont to do, but she often went on with her grievances while bestowing affections and it all added up to a lot of silly talk. Phaedra had said that it was a comfortable sound, Poppy’s complaining in the house.

The house was much quieter with Dion gone.

She crossed the room to meet him, reaching to fix some imagined insult in his hair before wrapping her arms around him tightly. “I wish you’d just come home.” She said, and she sounded sad. That was brief of course. “Just think about the rest of us for once, you selfish brat,” she muttered. It wasn’t scathing like Sugar’s use of the word. It was just confused and disappointed. “Is it really that hard to behave?” she asked, as if she didn’t know quite well herself.   

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #24 on: February 13, 2017, 07:54:36 pm »
Poppy had access to the real boy, who'd not grown all that much. Mostly he had taken to culturing his defenses, and made them pristine. A blacksmith for armor. Mother and father nurtured this too. So he was left to be whoever he wanted to be on the inside, as long as he kept his back straight and his words level when his hair was combed. He wasn't sure he could be like this if he tried with Poppy.

"Thanks." he had said about her offer to lie so she could be there when he arrived. Little brother that wouldn't even pretend to take back his request. There was a little breath of relief at the end. Nothing of Sugar’s vile noble to be heard. Vera was a good enough alibi, anyway. When Poppy was high and mighty, Dion liked to remember he didn't always behave as he should, and carry the appropriate amount of shame for it. There was no reward for pretending with her. “Don’t go. I’ll be there soon.” He promised. If his voice was somber it was to petition for her sympathy, just slightly, underneath the staleness, and not at all to say she was annoying for not doing as she was told, as would be his sentiment to almost anyone else.

She was herself in the gold glow inside the onyx and sapphire dust of this hour. This abandoned place could be home then, if she sat there. It was unnatural for him to be without her, even if they’d been fostered to be more independent than their birthday suggested. Growing up holding hands does create a certain kinship. He kept his eyes on her when her fingers tamed whatever wild had settled into his hair. Ruffled  boy come home to his satin sister. Was she looking at his antlers?

He shook his chin just a little when she mentioned Vera again. But I would have crawled to get here with you. “Sorry.” But he felt no such thing. He was happy to hear her complaints. His sensitive indoors lily, never happy. With shoulders low and foot closer to hers, his face took on some light when she wanted him back to the house he’d left. Mostly he was just ecstatic to hug her back, with a breath of ragged solace. She didn’t smell like anything but herself, and he could probably persist on that for months. Because he couldn’t go back. That bridge was ashes and the ashes were taken away by the water. The brat smiled with his head to hers.

“I am behaving.” Out in the open, just as they’d been taught. It was only in secret that he allowed himself to be an animal. First as the general of boys, and then as the regret of girls. There was also the night of their awakening. “But that’s not going to be enough anymore.” Her body pressed the crusted blood of his shirt into his chest. He wanted to keep the proof of his indiscretion from her. Suddenly he held on harder, recalling his gluttony today. That girl had been a pretty, alive before his hunger. In his quest to vilify he absolved Sugar. What would Poppy say? And what would she think if she knew her own image, sugared by petals, had been courting the edges of his bloodied vision? He touched his forehead to her shoulder, which required his head to drop quite a bit. Eyes to the side, where he could see the column of her throat.

“How have you been? How’s Phae?” he asked the skin on her neck. He wasn’t getting that kiss, yet, and he thought it was for the better, despite his greed. He did give her one, right there on her pulse, and thought his lips stuck to her when he meant for them to retreat quickly. Wiser than he had been in the RV, he let her go. If she thought it was cold, he couldn’t help it. Better be cold than too heated now. His stomach was still singing gratefully, soothing the nerves that had been complaining. There was only indulgence left, since hunger was dulled. “You shouldn’t have come.” Again, but there was no invitation for her to leave in the sentiment. He touched the collar of his jacket. “I need to change.” How many families had lost their sons to the kind apathy he relied on now? Men are so fragile.

He was expected to be vain, and lived mostly out of the room the family knew as his, upstairs, where the wardrobe had its own door. If she followed, and he hoped she would, that door would be closed, the rest of the room available to entertain, as he stared at the mirror in his privacy. A red map of his adventure over the svelte torso. He would have to cry about her later, when Poppy couldn’t hear. He threw on a black t-shirt, rolled its sleeves, and came back out with softer pants on, bare feet. His secret written in macabre was rumpled and shoved into the bottom of the basket that Phae was not here to take care of. He’d even buried it in two clean shirts for good measure. The girl soaking into his chest and ribs, and her scent, should be hidden under the black fabric and the detergent he’d found yesterday.

He came out a little brighter, but there was leather lining his lungs, still, because he didn’t like keeping things from sister. “Are you hungry?” If she was there with him at all, and not being a lovely image, still reading, downstairs. If not, then he would go down and seek her out with the same question. He was an alright cook, but at least Poppy could scold him over what he was doing wrong. And then there was the meal he’d purchased. Wouldn’t it be wonderfully bonding to eat vodka and organs from each others hands? What freedoms his mind took today. Or are we going to dance our nighttime waltz, until it is time to sleep? They could be eerie, going through the routines of ending a day, brushing their teeth in tandem and spitting like a viper in a mirror. He had already decided to sleep in the same room as her, even if that meant being banished to the floor. He wasn’t sure how often she would stay at Vera for him, better make the most of it. This also allowed him to make sure she wouldn’t look through his fridge during the night or in the morning, and find the bucket, or decide to do some laundry.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #25 on: February 15, 2017, 02:06:04 am »
Poppy was fussy because she could be, sighing at the things he said and shaking her head. “I’ve been alright. Phaedra misses you, I can tell.” She said. Phae loved the twins dearly, being an only child herself. If Poppy had to speculate, Dion was likely her favorite. But Poppy often contrived the romantic interests of girls near to her brother. Phaedra was special, but no exception. If she had witnessed Sugar today, it might be curious to know what she would have seen in those interactions. Fanciful stories, generally used to tease.

“You’re probably right. I shouldn’t have come.” She agreed. “But, you’re my spoiled baby brother.” Poppy explained. She let him go when he mentioned a change of clothes and nodded to agree with that too. “You do.” She said. “Seriously, did you walk home?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at a sweaty stench that was not as foul as she hoped to make it seem. They were clean adolescents, as they’d been raised to be.

She trailed after him, up the stairs on her bare feet, pushing her toes into the thick carpet. “Phae would be completely beside herself if she saw this place,” Poppy remarked, glancing over the stair rail at the clutter in the living room. Dion was not living in a particularly slovenly manner, but Phaedra had been cleaning after them since she was old enough to pick up their toys. In some sense, it was a bit sad that Poppy spoke about her tidiness like it was tied to her personality, rather than her job. But Poppy had been raised rich and Phaedra really was a tidy girl. “She still cleans your room every day. Not a speck of dust.” Poppy told him. “I think she should get a boyfriend.”

Poppy did not try to follow him beyond the door, reclining in a plush chair set by the window. The reflection of the moon on the lake was a gold coin from the second story view. She spoke to him through the door while he changed. “Caspian was asking about you the other day. He says you’ve been acting a little strange these days.” She said. Her boyfriend, a well-liked guy in Dion’s class, and one of his old group. He had not woken to the maddening desire and continued on with his antagonizing without reproach. The son of a stock market trader with good fortune. Poppy leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

It wasn’t as if she couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know. But Poppy pretended for herself, so she’d pretend for her brother too. She smiled at him, quaint, when he emerged in more relaxed threads. “I am,” she confessed, and patted her flat stomach. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Regrettable, by the tone of it. Poppy stood to head back for the kitchen, passing him by. Sweet obliviousness to his red-tinted daydreams, she made it to the fridge before him, hand on the door. “Do you want help, or are you going to bribe me by doing all the cooking yourself?” she asked.

It was not very late but they’d not turned on too many lights in the house. It felt like the evenings they used to sneak down for midnight snacks. Inevitably, Phae would hear. Her room had been right off the kitchen. They’d make a loud enough clatter so as to seem like they were attempting subtlety and wait for the other girl to emerge. Her snacks had always been a good deal more involved and delicious than the ones they made for themselves. There had been those rare exceptions, of course, and the whole thing had felt a good deal most secretive then. Usually they’d ferret away leftover sweets from dinner, or bags of chips that were impossible to eat quietly. Poppy didn’t hide her nostalgia and went to embrace her brother again. “I really hate that you’re living alone like this.” She admitted.

It had been one of those midnight trips that had brought upon this great fissure in their family, if she took the time to think about it. A broken cereal bowl and hushed laughter as they skittered back up to their rooms. Poppy had cut her hand on a shard, they’d realized, before they parted ways. In the bathroom, under harsh white light, she’d sat on the toilet seat and let him tend to her hand. If she’d known of the old bandages he’d stolen she might not have allowed the first aid in the quiet. The small red blossom, and they’d both tasted it. He, from her palm, and she from the corner of his mouth. A thing they’d never spoken of since.     



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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #26 on: February 15, 2017, 06:45:53 pm »
He followed down behind her, but with hesitation at first. He still had his old footfall, despite living alone, despite the comparably young hour. Trailing in the darkness living between the light in the kitchen and the light left on in his room, he recalled the life he'd emerged from without wanting to leave. He did miss their friend, and shamelessly looked forward to the day Phaedra would come and tidy this place up. Not that he needed it clean, he simply wanted her touch, which was tidiness, here where he lived.

He missed Caspian, too, when she mentioned him. The boy had been of no real interest, a friend somewhere to the side that enjoyed Dion’s casual consideration until he was with Poppy. Dion had made sure to groom him then, to an equally vicious bully of the newcommers. Better they saw eye to eye on such violent matters if Caspian was in a position to tell Poppy.

He lost himself enough to remembering the bloodied rituals throwing applicants into their inevitable tastes he forgot the gravity of reaching the fridge before her. He halted, stiff when he came into the light of the kitchen, and she was about to open everything he wanted to conceal. "I've become a good cook." he answered with a kind of lying smile he'd learned from being reprimanded by faculty for sending new students to the infirmary, and sometimes Caspian's father, the doctor. Teachers and caretakers were eager enough to play dumb on the matter. The Epsilon Hill school needed to have a bloody edge, they all had thought in silence. Dion shifted toward her, but didn't want his motions to trigger hers, so his legs were stiff.

He all but jerked when she moved, but was happy to have her against him, instead of seeing her head in the yellow light, close to the bucket.  There was some of that relief, then, in his sigh as he squeezed her to him. He thought of having bitten off her lips and lapped from her stomach today, together with Sugar. He thought of the old bandages and the way her kiss had electrified his head when she took the blood off the corner of his mouth, that night that lasted forever, forever ago.

“It’s not always going to be like this.” He promised as his arms wound tighter around her back. Him living alone. It wasn’t such a struggle here, with worldly concerns. Mother gave him an allowance in very poorly kept secrecy from father, and any simpleton could make a meal for himself, but he had been lonely, transferring to Sarah Perkins. In this house he was always sitting on the floor trying not to think of iron aromas and salt on his tongue. That soft but insistent, daunting texture. How many massacres had he invented on the tiles they stood on, without orchestrating them at all? How many flower had he bit through to find Poppy’s hipbone, Phae’s thigh? His tongue laid against the lining of his mouth. Everything was swimming, his teeth were drowning, with her chest to his diaphragm.

When he held her so close he thought he could feel the details of her vertebrae on his forearm. So he let go and pushed into her in that motion, so she would fall back, half a pace. He shouldn’t dream like that with her here. Her watchful beauty and her quiet air. Her perfume that billowed out to take him. He couldn’t get used to it or shut that essence out. It always reminded him that she had treasures on the inside. “Hope you like gourmet.” He bragged, brave, and took out a dip, closed the fridge fast, and then her favorite brand of chips from a cupboard. Shrimp. A miracle all on its own that they had it around here. The bag was unopened. He’d been hopeful. If she wanted any of it he’d placed it on the island underneath the light of another lamp, hanging low, that their mother had loved and forgotten too. It looked like an ironic constellation, not food. Hopefully this would buy him enough time to think of brotherly things, leaning back into the opened fridge.

He took some pride in the contents of the cold shelves. He’d picked everything in here. Cold cuts and fresh vegetables to resemble the diet he was used to. His finger slid by the roast beef to hook into the lid of the bucket. The girl, Sugar’s prize, was still making him stronger than he could remember ever feeling, and still he wanted the preserved organs. A quick look over his shoulder to make sure she was not in a revealing angle before he bent the lid open. Dion gasped before pinching the plastic shut. His ravenous heart was singing justified deliberations so he would feed himself those dark things in pink depths right away.

Somewhere between his temples Poppy had cut herself tearing the bag of treats, or fallen off the high chair with a spell of red racing underneath her hairline, or just slipped on the tile and laid unconscious and ready for his flowers. He should not have been so gluttonous today, it seemed he was open to new obsessions, or new depths of old ones. In the end he only took out green things, and the roast beef. Their upbringing had taught him this was what civil people eat. Yesterday he’d only had pear, walnuts and honey. Would his father be proud or disgusted?

“It’s nothing like Phae’s.” he apologized and drew at silver blade and wooden shield. A smile back at Poppy. “But aren’t you impressed that I can live on my own? I’ve had parties, you know, orgies.” She was his first guest and anyone would know it. He’d only brought a girl home once, to mom and dad, and she had kept her dark hair suspiciously like someone else in the family. That particular dalliance had been hopeful, but somewhere Sammy had been overwhelmed by his rough attention and asked him to call when he’d calmed down. “You’re welcome Saturday.” When things are livid here. Or I’m alone, throwing driftwood back into the sea.

Without thinking, he made sure she was elsewhere invested, and plucked the shell of a walnut from the sink. Out of affection he made sure the hard shard was clean before he placed it in on a bed of lettuce and covered it with rye. It was a two-fold deceit, because he barely noticed himself, and could only really understand the implications of it when he placed her plate in front of her. There was a lingonberry twig with its sour, red pearls for  garnish, because they were children of wealth, and he could not imagine serving it any other way. He should have switched their portions, but he sat down on her side, biting into his helping of inferior meat, and said “There’s ice cream, too.”

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #27 on: February 16, 2017, 10:51:51 pm »
She shrugged against him. “How would you know?” she asked. Because he was falling and falling and she wasn’t sure how to catch him from this distance. Would he sprout wings, indulgent brother, and fly from their nature? She didn’t know if it was possible. Poppy had kept her lips pressed closed to the flavors that called. She didn’t trust confrontations with the truth. She had been raised to cultivate that sort of thinking. It was better to brush things beneath the rug when you could afford very expensive rugs. Dirty thoughts were a test of will, not an invitation to dirty habits.

“Why not just pick up some street drugs and check into rehab,” she murmured. That was a prettier affliction. Modern aristocracy liked those down-to-earth poisons; coy flirtations with the lower class without any fear of punishment. “You’re better than this, I think.” She said. Poppy judged harshly because she loved him. She had expected more from him. Refinement and self-control, all the pedigreed traits that she’d incorporated into her sense of importance. Poppy liked being a proper girl. She liked thinking Dion was a proper boy too.

She retreated with the chips he gave her, a but left him with a sidelong glance that lingered. He wasn’t often rough with her. Pushing her away like that was saddening. She’d say nothing, of course. Poppy didn’t think she wanted to hear any explanation for his behavior. Things were supposed to stay neat and normal between them, regardless of Mom and Dad. She popped a chip into her mouth, crunching hard.

“Phae wanted to come but I thought she’d get into trouble. Appearances and all that.” It wasn’t necessary to tell him. If Poppy was here, certainly Phaedra would have wanted to be. She was quiet then, listening to the sound of his knife against the board. “She’d probably be disappointed that you’re not dying without her.” Poppy laughed softly. “Not really, but you know what I mean.” She twisted on the kitchen bar stool, tossing another chip into her mouth.

“Orgies, oh my, look at you.” She said. “Mom and Dad would be horrified.” She said. Scandalous. It was funny because it wasn’t true. Mom and Dad would probably sigh with relief if their son retreated into more acceptable carnal pleasures. Poppy’s dark moss eyes followed his back. She smiled nicely when he set the dish down for her. “Fancy,” she said. It was, in fact, more proper than most things they’d have fixed for themselves at home. Junk food was a luxury when luxury was standard.

She took a forkful of his offering and plucked a berry with her fingers. It burst against her lips, a red smear, and she wrinkled her nose at the pleasant tart. Poppy took a few more bites before she came upon the shell, buried in the greens, and gasped when the earthy shard scraped hard against her cheek and tongue. A hand to cover her lips as she winced. “Ah, shit.” She announced. “Dion, get me a napkin, would you?” she said, muffled. “There was something sharp in the food. I cut my mouth.” A glaze for the meal, then. When the pain had dulled, which was fast because the wound was not serious, she became aware of the taste of her own iron on her tongue. It was pleasant and salty and she almost thought to dig her canine into the cut.

But Poppy was proper and good. She smiled tightly at him, palm on her cheek as she waited for him to bring her some water and a napkin. Poppy did not suckle at the thin stream of blood nor consider how it might taste, flowing past the corner of her lips to mingle with the dark smear of lingonberry.   


Verse

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #28 on: February 17, 2017, 03:07:34 pm »
He sucked his own tongue dry when she suggested snow and crystals in the stead of the rubies he craved as though he'd simply switch like from truffles to cake at the Cascade. He would have been vicious to her then, if it had been available to him, the way he was so readily with others. Poppy’s affections were like this. Mother and father’s too. How many times had he felt hurt and been informed other loving hearts had everything to do with it? Poor rich boy, scolded for inappropriate behavior all his life, and still no real struggle. He wasn’t better than anyone and she wouldn’t think so either, if she knew what happened after school.

It was easier to break the garden of their arms because of this, but Poppy turned it into effort again with her sullen. He wasn’t equipped to hurt her. “You can tell her that I am.” Dying. “Hah. Phae.” He said to himself. Perhaps he was indeed, in a way he hadn’t discovered. He forgot about their friend when Poppy approved of the food he’d made. Because she judged so much, her grace was valued higher.

He was eating, quite innocently too, when she murdered the starkly red orb onto the flesh of her mouth. He was already too livid - in his quiet – trying to act as though he’d not betrayed her. She didn’t know the berry was trying to warn her. And then his heart swelled to a stop with her pretty discomfort upon feeling the shrapnel. “I am sorry.” A telling, monotone attempt at acting. He was with her with a napkin soon. “I had walnuts yesterday.” He explained as he dipped the paper past the rim of a clear glass.

The blood was thick and the berry was not wanting to mingle. Two reds, coiling. “Open.” He demanded and stood, hunched to caress her upper lip with the cool texture. It was her lower petal that carried the mayhem. This ruse could only last as long as his unwell restraint. With the light, he saw the cut inside the slick of her cheek, slowly making more mars honey. “Ah, I…” he said, dropping the napkin that fell faster for its heavy, uncolored, soaked head. “It’s bleeding too much.” Said inside a gasp. But any of Poppy’s blood was too much. The truth was on his face then, with his pupils skirting so wide, and a wanting blush raising his cheekbones. He pinched the minimal fountain, thumb on the inside and index on the outside of her cheek. It must hurt more. When he realized he let go, and the cut heaved, bragging about the loveliness inside her, wasteful, generous.

“Too much.” He complained around his thumb, delivering her flavor to him, and it was a confession. When the digit was naked of her blood he drew it out with purpose. This was more than enough. Dear sister, come here to see if he was living well. He shouldn’t subject her to this primal, simple thing he felt. It was the same as resisting a sweet tooth, really. He thought to stop it here. And then a welling thrum of hollow with hot, searing edges afflicted every nerve, starting from just above his stomach and spearing out into the rest of him. A greedy pulse. A reminder that he was famished for more than sustenance. A promise he would not go on without Poppy.

Dion fell forward and held her tempting lip in two of his, and dug the sharp of his tongue into the berry and Poppy’s copper salt. His body pushed into her legs until the chair she sat on moved her back into the island. His hands locked around her wrists, to steady himself, perhaps, or object to her retaliation. The kiss might have been sweet and careful like this, without an embrace. It was not a forceful taste, he just needed enough to be civil again, he told himself. Wretched little brother, a liar and a thief.

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #29 on: February 19, 2017, 03:16:34 am »
When Poppy was small, she’d gone through a domineering phase that had coincided quite perfectly with her reckless phase. During that time, she often got into trouble and pulled Dionysus and Phaedra with her. Poppy was a bright girl though, and it was rare that they ever got into trouble for the same thing twice. For that matter, if there was ever something they were caught for, Poppy made a point of forming rules against it. She would recite such things with closed eyes and a sage expression when Phae or Dion came breathless to ask for those troublesome games.

When Poppy grew older, she became a good deal less reckless and her domineering refined itself into a prim and judgmental smolder that was the delight of the boys that teased her. There was something delicious about seeking out the cross curl on her full lips and the knit of her brow. Caspian had won her over with light antics that appealed to her nature. Not enough to truly upset her, but enough to give her fodder to hiss and spit. He was a gleeful whipping boy. Phaedra, despite remaining very affectionate toward her employer’s daughter, had wizened up to that particular ruse of Poppy’s character when she was quite young and did not play into Poppy’s desired administrations of justice. Instead, she had become a bit of a rudder, unwanted at times, suggesting caution where Poppy’s haughtiness verged on being transparently coy. “You shouldn’t let your tongue get the best of you. I know you like to box people around, but it’ll get you in trouble someday.” Phaedra had said on more than one occasion.

Whether Poppy had internalized that advice or not, she had certainly not made full practice of it. When her brother came to her, she was already simmering. He shouldn’t be so careless. Particularly while living alone like this. What kind of ridiculous stupor would he fall into, lapping at his own wounds and the mesmerizing red. He should be more careful. Rules again, for a game she’d helped start and then cast away when it was convenient for her and troublesome for him.

She did part her lips as instructed, but it had been with the intention of scolding him. Not roughly, of course. He’d tried to make her a nice dinner after all. Those plans were immediately set off course. The damp tissue to her lip, the wrong petal, their shade separated eyes were fine mirrors. “Wha—“ she started, because this dramatization of aid was thin for the both of them. He let the napkin fall and she yelped when he dug his nail into her cut cheek. “Dion!” she breathed, incredulous and holding her hands to her face again when he let go. She swallowed, and tasted her own metal.

“S-stop it, you’re being vulgar.” Poppy insisted, berating when she should not have. Stare on his rounded lips and the thumb clasped between. Her pulse surged. “Dion…” she tried a more warning tone, but he moved. A gasp, her spine tapping against the cold marble edge of the island, and she thought to struggle. He would make her bleed more if she was too insistent, tugging when that soft pink was captured was unwise, and she went stiff when she didn’t know what else to do. “Dionysus,” she muttered, and the sounds brought his own flesh between her teeth. She did not break the skin, but her own rust and the sensation of his lip against her teeth was enough to shake her tightly guarded resolve. Poppy made a sound, frustration for a desire, before she wriggled in his grasp again. How rude of him, knocking at her defenses. How base, to drag her into his mire.