Post by cee on Feb 4, 2011 4:50:43 GMT 2
Pale pink tongue slipped between the full red lips of the young woman as she made her way down the street. A light rain had begun to fall, and she, as usual, hadn't paid any mind to the weather report. Weather was quite a fickle thing these days, or so it seemed. The young woman lifted her leather clad hands to her lips and pressed her lips between the intertwined fingers, blowing hot breath between them.
She felt chilled, near to the bone, and with the rain, she was sure it'd get worse. It was so cold, that she could see her breath, hovering like a cemetery fog before her, before drifting away, to make room for the next warm fog.
The right hand was dropped back into the hip pocket of her black denim jeans, while the left hand's fingers threaded through the cherry-chocolate strands that spilled free from her scalp. Her fingers toyed momentarily with the strands of stress-created silver that she had none other than Magneto to thank for. She wasn't looking for a new fashion statement, but she welcomed the change regardless, wasn't as if she could do anything about it. Even hair dye didn't cover it.
The young woman picked up her step, as the rain began to pick up it's own tempo, an eerie pitter-patter, as if the creepy music, just before a lone female gets dragged into an alley way and butchered.
”Stop that.” She muttered to herself, under her breath. Nevertheless, she was a bit nervous, if not frightened (not that she'd ever admit it) of being alone in the evening, especially when no one should be out and about in the rain, such as she was.
With a deep breath, Rogue exhaled her fear, and inhaled a bit of courage for herself, before she dipped into the alley way. There she saw the place she was after.
Three steps up, a turn, another four steps, and finally she tapped on the door. A small window opened, allowing her only to see the eyes of the person behind the door, like some old fashioned speak-easy or some such. The person didn't say anything.
”The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains.” And the little window shut. For a few moments, she wondered if she had remembered the password correctly, and then the door creaked open, revealing its age, yet as she stepped within the warm atmosphere, the door shut back closed, revealing its strength.
A moment passed, before she pulled back the hood of the black hooded sweatshirt she chose to wear to try to muffle the cold from her body. A man waited beside her, holding out his arm to take her coat, or rather, in her case, a sweatshirt. Rogue lifted it over her head, baring a small amount of her abdomen, before she handed the man her hoodie, and straightened herself up once more.
”This way.” The man's voice was obviously southern, though the exact dialect, she wasn't sure on. He walked forward, keeping an even pace so Rogue didn't get lost behind him. She followed along, and finally they passed through what appeared to be a meat locker, the smell heavy with raw animal flesh, and sticky with the scent of blood. She swallowed back the lump that had formed in the back of her throat. Why, oh why had she accepted that damned invitation after all?
Oh right. The Cash.
Rogue's tongue passed over her lips again, feeling the slight burn. She knew her lips were chapped, and longed for her Blistex, though she thought she'd glam it up this evening. A bit of long wear lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara. Oh, so glamorous.
Finally through the meat locker, she entered an elaborately decorated casino. There were a scattering of slot machines, though mostly, and what she was after, was the card tables. Black Jack tables were to one side, a few other games here and there, though her hazel hues landed on a Poker table, one in which there were a mere three contenders for the pot.
A slow smile crept upon her lips, and she directed her passage towards the table, and sat down.
”Buy in's fifty bucks. You good?” The dealer murmured, gazing at her. She reached into her pocket and plucked a fifty out of her small wad of cash.
”Let the game begin.” Rogue smiled, slapping the fifty onto the other three fifties already on the table.
”Alright then.”
The man's fingers grasped the cards. She could almost feel the texture as the man shuffled, and gazed at her.
”Wild or no wild.”
”Aces and Eights.” Came her casual reply. It was something her father always chosen.. he said it was a dead man's hand. The memory made her smile. The dealer shuffled a few times more, and began the deal.
She felt chilled, near to the bone, and with the rain, she was sure it'd get worse. It was so cold, that she could see her breath, hovering like a cemetery fog before her, before drifting away, to make room for the next warm fog.
The right hand was dropped back into the hip pocket of her black denim jeans, while the left hand's fingers threaded through the cherry-chocolate strands that spilled free from her scalp. Her fingers toyed momentarily with the strands of stress-created silver that she had none other than Magneto to thank for. She wasn't looking for a new fashion statement, but she welcomed the change regardless, wasn't as if she could do anything about it. Even hair dye didn't cover it.
The young woman picked up her step, as the rain began to pick up it's own tempo, an eerie pitter-patter, as if the creepy music, just before a lone female gets dragged into an alley way and butchered.
”Stop that.” She muttered to herself, under her breath. Nevertheless, she was a bit nervous, if not frightened (not that she'd ever admit it) of being alone in the evening, especially when no one should be out and about in the rain, such as she was.
With a deep breath, Rogue exhaled her fear, and inhaled a bit of courage for herself, before she dipped into the alley way. There she saw the place she was after.
Three steps up, a turn, another four steps, and finally she tapped on the door. A small window opened, allowing her only to see the eyes of the person behind the door, like some old fashioned speak-easy or some such. The person didn't say anything.
”The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains.” And the little window shut. For a few moments, she wondered if she had remembered the password correctly, and then the door creaked open, revealing its age, yet as she stepped within the warm atmosphere, the door shut back closed, revealing its strength.
A moment passed, before she pulled back the hood of the black hooded sweatshirt she chose to wear to try to muffle the cold from her body. A man waited beside her, holding out his arm to take her coat, or rather, in her case, a sweatshirt. Rogue lifted it over her head, baring a small amount of her abdomen, before she handed the man her hoodie, and straightened herself up once more.
”This way.” The man's voice was obviously southern, though the exact dialect, she wasn't sure on. He walked forward, keeping an even pace so Rogue didn't get lost behind him. She followed along, and finally they passed through what appeared to be a meat locker, the smell heavy with raw animal flesh, and sticky with the scent of blood. She swallowed back the lump that had formed in the back of her throat. Why, oh why had she accepted that damned invitation after all?
Oh right. The Cash.
Rogue's tongue passed over her lips again, feeling the slight burn. She knew her lips were chapped, and longed for her Blistex, though she thought she'd glam it up this evening. A bit of long wear lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara. Oh, so glamorous.
Finally through the meat locker, she entered an elaborately decorated casino. There were a scattering of slot machines, though mostly, and what she was after, was the card tables. Black Jack tables were to one side, a few other games here and there, though her hazel hues landed on a Poker table, one in which there were a mere three contenders for the pot.
A slow smile crept upon her lips, and she directed her passage towards the table, and sat down.
”Buy in's fifty bucks. You good?” The dealer murmured, gazing at her. She reached into her pocket and plucked a fifty out of her small wad of cash.
”Let the game begin.” Rogue smiled, slapping the fifty onto the other three fifties already on the table.
”Alright then.”
The man's fingers grasped the cards. She could almost feel the texture as the man shuffled, and gazed at her.
”Wild or no wild.”
”Aces and Eights.” Came her casual reply. It was something her father always chosen.. he said it was a dead man's hand. The memory made her smile. The dealer shuffled a few times more, and began the deal.