Even under the heavy coat of cigarettes and alcohol, there was still the lingering taste of someone else on her lips. Like the soft outline of a ghost wandering in the back of her throat. This was not the only evidence of her deviance, there were still traces of careless strangers strewn across her body, some friendly and not so friendly bruises and cuts littered her flesh. Fingers curl around her coat, adjusting the collar in an attempt to hide the marks. Hidden or not, Lucretia would know. Hidden or not, Regina had screwed herself over.
( couldn’t even spend a single night without letting her body stray )
A light drizzle catches on the embodiment’s clothes, slowly soaking through to her skin, sending small tremors through her frame. God, Luce better be home. Bruised knuckles rap against the wooden door, knowing it would be easier to just intrude, teleport herself inside, but she’d been living amongst humans too long that she was beginning to assimilate. ❝ Luce? ❜ She knocks again, harder -- louder. To a certain degree, she does know the celestial is behind that door. ❝ You’re not still fuckin’ mad at me, are you? ❜
Her hands cram into her pockets, shoulders tensed as she waits for a response. There’s temptation to light a cigarette, a spliff -- something, but she resists and instead pulls the flask from her pocket. It would burn just the same, slowly kill her in different ways ( well, if she could die ). The alcohol is gone soon, emptied into her stomach, soon to be carried into her blood. She already wants more. ❝ Lucretia! ❜ Her fist slams once into the door, growing impatient, yet still waiting.
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