COKE MIRROR REFLECTION /

theuncreator:

Jardani Jovonovich

selective, canon divergent & au John Wick RP blog

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝟹𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑

𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑒 && 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑐

𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑝 ┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 && 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 !

 “How do you know I’m a nice girl?”

    independent Jessica Hamby || Est. September 2011 || Selective & Mutual

Throat tightened, pupils dilated like a drop of ink, dark eyes covered with a thin layer of crystal tears. Aresa looked at the person with whom she began to feel the safest, with boiling fear.

" Rommy..." quickly did she bit the tongue producing the endearing nickname -- there was nothing sweet in the carnivore expression on the male face no more.

There were even nights he missed her show but waited for her to emerge from the club anyway, so he could watch her from afar as she retreated home—her unknowing the way a gazelle is unaware of a lion in the tall grass—cat and mouse shit he fell into the habit of easier than most people would. Then again, Roman was not most people. He was much, much more than that.

Tonight was the only night Roman had NO desire to see Aresa.

Tonight was for feeding. Tonight was for unfeeling. Tonight was for unaliving anything that made itself vulnerable to him.

Roman did not want Aresa in a compromising spot.

And what was more compromising than seeing Roman covered in a caked layer of coppery smelling blood?

He cleaned off what he could from his face in the rear view mirror of the car, but smears of dark red still dried along his jawline like war paint. The bloody front of his clothes felt sticky and heavy as he locks the door to his place with Aresa and him inside.

Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Grove season 3

Aresa tried to keep her lips straight, pinching the full pillows with her teeth, but the corners of the mouth curled up at his remark. " Alice would be furouis if she heard how you criticize her ' divine act '. " Theatrical movement of the left hand followed, before the thick, coal colored eyelashes fluttered, spark of playfulness shining in the two dark orbs. " I got you now, Rommy -- now you have to keep my secret, or I might just tell yours to the ' itching dancer '. " laughter melodic and light, while the head turned, eyes widening on the color spectrum around the two. Swings, carousal, ferris wheel towering over the whole carnivalm. . . A huge mechanism made of countless iron bars that rose up to the sooty clouds, guided the black train along the tracks all the way to the spooky, jagged passage. A depiction of a devil with open maw, swallowing the riders while the fast ride dives into the shadowy and mysterious depths of its throat.

Maybe the rides were much higher than city regulation would have liked and maybe the ominous fog bleeding out of every dark patron entrance to the attractions had no rational explanation, Roman did not notice. He is more focused on the fact that Aresa continued to hold his wrist like an open invitation to touch her.

Though he would not say so, to Roman, the dancer—even at the club—smelled better than caramel apples, popcorn, and the big clouds of cellophane wrapped-cotton candy they passed—the blue and the pink.

She was intoxicating. Aresa. Roman often found himself feeling like a starved lion on his best behavior whenever around her. Tonight was no exception.

“And I wouldn’t jeopardize that career of yours,” he leans in and adds in a more serious soft spoken tone—the Gods’ honest truth in his words as he stares into her eyes with a need to possess her like one of the prizes strung up behind the many carnival games around them.

Now that Roman is closer, he looks down and turns his wrist over, collecting Aresa’s hand the way a magician would his assistant’s hand.

“Let’s… try that.. big loud thing over there,” Roman looks towards the roller coaster behind Aresa and suggests.

theuncreator:

Jardani Jovonovich

selective, canon divergent & au John Wick RP blog

The smell of popcorn and cotton candy filled the fresh summer night illuminated by colorful, cheerful, loud rides. Beautifully manicured nails smoothed out the folds on the tight leather dress, while the dancer elegantly approached the handsome young man with whom she was not supposed to meet. " A wig huh ? " Pearly whites exposed under the full, glossed lips. " Is this an excuse to admit you prefer blonds ? " Aresa teased, slight peach color painting the usually ivory complex as she looked up at Roman.

“There is a blonde at the club; she… dances like her bra tag itches,” Roman smirks and follows Aresa. It bothered him in a way he did not expect when she gently led him by his wrist. To resist the urge to turn his hand over and hold her hand—touch her—is as irksome as the club’s rules where he had originally found Aresa. Maybe later…

“I’m glad you showed,” Roman confides, his long legged-stride falling in sync with her own as they wandered towards the rides in motion. Whirling lights, carousel music, and tacky airbrushed art electrified the pairs surroundings. Enticement also occupied the girl accompanying Roman; he found himself watching her more than the stuff designed to catch one’s attention around them.