| Sympathy For The Devil |
[Nov. 5th, 2004|05:42 am] |
"So, is this just a thing you do?"
Had it not been for her Slayer stability Ray would have fallen off the steps of her Winnebago, but she maintained her balance and remained seated on the fold down metal stairs.
"Jesus Christ, Del, you scared the shit outta me." She flicked the ash off the end of her Lucky Strike. "And what are you talking about?"
The vampire leaned one shoulder up against the motor home. "Little less than a week ago? Blond vampiric type, into the music scene."
Ray let the information settle before allowing it to click into place. "Oh. Dyan. She was a customer."
Del smirked.
"AT THE BAR. She was a customer at the bar. Where I work." She ground the cigarette butt into the dirt.
( Rated H for Humorous content ) |
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| There's a Place |
[Oct. 28th, 2004|06:13 am] |
Normally, right about now, she'd be finishing up her second set, already knowing which warm-blooded bodies were set to be by her side the second she stepped off stage. She'd be moments away from an Amaretto sour, because she liked the way the sweetness mingled with the metallic tang of B negative.
Instead, she was sitting in her car in the middle of the night on a street in a fragment of a town an hour away from everything. What she was looking for, she didn't know. Well, there was one thing, but it was long gone, apparently.
Whatever the case, she'd had enough for the moment. If she left now, she could still sign up for the weekly "Be a Star!" karaoke contest at the Imperial Palace.
She adjusted the rearview, checking her reflection. Or lack thereof. It was still easy to forget it wasn't there. |
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| You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet |
[Aug. 7th, 2004|02:15 pm] |
Everything whined into silence. After a moment, the emergency lights came on, casting a yellow glow over the bar. The bartender mumbled something about blowing fuse and wandered off to find the manager. Del leaned against the mic stand, surveying the audience. There was no way they were going to hang around till the end of the set if they didn't get the power fixed right away. She glanced back at Ray, who was already digging for her pack of Lucky Strikes.
"I'm gonna..." Ray nodded back toward the stage door that led out into the alley.
Del just shot her a half smile and nodded. Typical Ray.
( Dancing In The Dark ) |
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[Aug. 4th, 2004|10:28 pm] |
Music is life. If I had one. Not that I'm a loser, I'm just not living. Unliving. That would be me.
In the grand scheme of things, I haven't been this way for long. There's many a creature of the night who's been skulking around this earth a lot longer than I have. Well, in theory, anyway. On the scale of lives and past lives and reincarnation memories, I can trace myself back much further than they've been alive. Or undead. Whatever. I know that the revival of Chesterfields don't hold the same rustic smoky flavor than they did back in 1912 or that Jim Beam, though the recipe's remained unchanged for over 200 years, has developed a processed taste from the machinery.
Music, however, is timeless. Even in its ever-changing incarnations, it moves you. Sometimes with a lilting melody that drifts in and out of your essence, letting you contemplate the meaning of life and everything within. Other times it grabs by the core and shakes you so furiously, so violently, that your first instinct is to scream and make it stop until you realize that this, these fingers digging into your soul are making you feel alive.
Said souls and lives being hypothetical, of course. |
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[Jul. 27th, 2004|05:59 am] |
Mirrors. She missed mirrors.
Ironically, when she was alive and able to see herself in them, she hadn’t really cared that much. She knew she was pretty, people even dared to call her “beautiful.” And she’d looked at herself on plenty of occasions. Mornings before work, before going out, getting ready, applying lipstick… but she never really took the time to admire her cheekbones or the oceanic depths of her eyes.
People still said she was “beautiful.” As well as “gorgeous” and “hot” and a “looker.” And she loved every second of it. Being lusted after gave her power. Which was why she sang. She’d always loved singing. Even before her undeath. Church choir, school musicals, talent shows… she had a hell of a voice. It made people want her. Who cares if they came in with someone else on their arm? They’d leave with her, every time.
Like right now. She had a guy one arm and a girl on the other. Her rendition of Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love” had at least five groupies clamoring for her attention, sending drinks her way, once she stepped off stage.
Small towns. She chuckled to herself. Gotta love ‘em. Her fingers trailed up the arm of the guy on her right. “Louie?” That was his name, right?
“Yeah?” His voice was low, heavy with want. Perfect.
“Why don’t you… order another round…” It really was precious the way he hung on each and every word. “While Cecilia and I go freshen up, kay?”
Louie nodded, trying to process the notion that he and his long time girlfriend just might be taking home another woman tonight. The guys at the steel yard were gonna love this.
( You're shakin' my confidence AKA Some good old PG-13 Sex and Violence ) |
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[Jul. 23rd, 2004|03:10 am] |
Name: Delilah AKA Del
DOB: August 21
Age: Immortal, looks to be mid-20s
Likes: Classic rock, karaoke, honesty, buffalo wings
Dislikes: Reality television, people talking down to her because she's a woman, liars
Skills: black belt in Hop ki do, masterful songstress, sewing
A wild child who loves the nightlife (see: vampire), she takes every opportunity she can to stop in at the nearest karaoke bar to belt out hauntingly hypnotic renditions of classic rock songs. Best known in the undead world for her penchace to drag her groupies into back alleys for some quality "necking." Has been gradually migrating toward Nevada, for reasons unknown.
PB: Reese Witherspoon |
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