witch

Andy saw her when the girl was checking in at the lobby. She lazily watched her from the lounge area, sprawled on an armchair, slowly running her fingers over the velvet upholstery of the armrest. Her brown eyes followed the redhead as she spoke politely and calmly with the man at the front desk, who smiled at her, probably paying her some compliments. "Nigel knows how to get a woman's attention," Sachs murmured to herself—no one heard her—and in her head, she added a thought that Kipling knew perfectly well who Miranda's next victim would be. And she bit her lip, most likely until it bled, because she felt something warm trickle down her chin.

Across the vast hall, the redhead's heels clacked as she walked towards the elevator. Only after she had moved away from the reception desk did Andrea allow herself to rise from the armchair. She was wearing sneakers today: they sounded soft and muffled, but Nigel still turned around and looked at the tall, pale figure through the thick lenses of his glasses. He meticulously studied her face, furrowing his brows, noticing the trace of blood.

"Go back to your room, Andy," the man huffed and adjusted his glasses. "Don't scare off the guests, for heaven's sake."

"He's not here," the brunette retorted, swiftly wiping the blood from her chin with the back of her hand. "He was never here!" Her voice grew louder, and then she threw her hand up. "Only she is here!"

And then Sachs simply vanished, as if she had never been there. Nigel said nothing. He was used to it. He wiped the counter and went into the small room next to the cabinet where the room keys were kept.

***

A slow jazz melody played. The redhead entered the bar, her heels tapping a rhythm. She wore a light white tank top, beneath which her black lace bra was perfectly visible, a leather mini-skirt, all complemented by smokey eyes. Seeing the new patron in such attire, Kipling, standing behind the bar, raised his eyebrows:

"Going on a date?"

"Huh? No, no! What are you talking about!" She laughed and adjusted her hair, carefully tucking a strand behind her ear, and sat on a stool. "Just wanted to spend the evening in a pleasant atmosphere."

"In such an outfit, Miss Charlton? Things might not end well," the man scoffed and moved to the back of the bar.

A pleasant silence filled the space, from which one didn't want to escape. Miss Charlton surveyed the bar: the abundance of stucco, heavy velvet curtains hanging everywhere. The stool beside her unexpectedly slid back, and a brunette entered the girl's field of vision. She was clearly taller than her. This was the first thing Miss Charlton noted to herself. Following that, she made a mental note of the large brown eyes that were studying her face.

"It's nice to see new faces here," the stranger smiled at the redhead and adjusted her hair. She wore, it seemed, green velvet Gucci trousers, a shirt that clung to her slender body like a second skin; unbuttoned buttons revealed her décolletage and several pendants. "You seemed very interesting to me! What brings you here?" She smiled, her lips stretching into a wide grin. By fashion standards, she was unconventional, but lively and interesting.

"I just came to relax and attend a few fashion shows," the girl replied calmly, smiling slightly at the brunette. "I sort of work in the fashion industry, currently as an assistant editor, but I'll be getting more serious about it soon. Just need to wait for a promotion," her fingers began to tap a nervous rhythm on the smooth wooden surface.

"Which publishing house do you work for?"

"Elias-Clark, British division."

"I could only dream of that," the deceased woman laughed. "I completely forgot! I'm Andy, Andy Sachs. And what's your name?" The large brown eyes were once again directed straight into the redhead's, and she fidgeted even more. The girl in front of her was something else, different from anything she had encountered before. Charlton felt blood rush to her cheeks.

"I'm Emily Charlton. Nice to meet you, Andy," Emily extends a perfectly manicured hand, and Andrea shakes it somewhat reluctantly. Sachs' gaze once again slips away from Emily, and Charlton is left to merely watch as her new acquaintance catches the man's attention and places an order: a piña colada – for her companion, and "the usual" – for herself. Nigel casts a displeased glance at Andrea over his shoulder, mutters something indistinct under his breath, and then begins to prepare the cocktails. "A question, Andy?" She nods. "What do you do?"

"I'm a journalist and a writer. Right now, I'm working on a biographical piece about the actress Miranda Priestly. She was, of course, more than just an actress. But if I tell you everything, you won't be interested in reading the book."

"What makes you think I'll read it?" Emily raises a perfect eyebrow and stares intently at her interlocutor. The latter narrows her eyes and smiles slyly.

"Women like her interest women like you," Nigel places Andy's cocktail on the counter. She thanks him, then downs the glass in one gulp. And, it seems, completely loses touch with reality: her gaze becomes vacant, her hands tremble, her body shakes, her lips twist.

***

Now that the hotel is their shared cage, their main entertainment is trying to sink their teeth deeper into each other's throats. Emily keeps saying that Andrea is a self-absorbed idiot who only thinks of herself, since she didn't tell her who Miranda was. But Andrea merely scoffs and replies that one should trust the residents of "Cortez" less. The hotel has long been known as a den and an utterly lost place; many crimes led here, but also ended here. This was a deep hatred that, from time to time, turned into love when Emily, in complete despair, came to Andrea's room. She would lie on her bed and just stay there. She could lie next to her for hours. Neither of them had a heartbeat, so they listened to the ticking of clocks, to dead bodies falling, to people being thrown from windows, to the last gasps of victims of the local inhabitants.

just a little inside

lady gaga – venus

bcz of that, i wanted to share some headcanons i have about these two. ur opinions might differ from mine – im open to discussion, but i definitely don't want any hate.

first of all, i see emily as xanadian – her mother is genuinely canadian, and her father is american of scottish descent. emily is the eldest of three children: the first two are from her mother’s first marriage, and there’s a younger brother from her mother’s second. and her mother sees charlton in her father, which leads to a clear dislike of emily. all this controlling dynamic results in emily having a huge tolerance for everyone, as well as anxiety, which is a symptom of her complex PTSD. and a few little details: her full name is emily sophie charlton, she used to do figure skating before her parents’ divorce – she had to stop after the divorce because her businessman father was paying for it all, she constantly got into fights with boys, she got into fashion very suddenly and unexpectedly for everyone, but at the same time it became an escape for her. her most cherished memory is being four years old, in the woods with her father, and he's teaching her to shoot a rifle. first at tin cans and beer bottles, then at small game.

as for andy. she’s english, whose parents moved to the usa. she usually spent around two months of the year in england with her grandparents. her parents are terribly cold people who didn’t care about their daughter. she got lost several times in various places – parks, airports, shopping malls. she went to a private school where she played soccer and was in the drama club. her parents only acknowledged her achievements, so she’s obsessed with the idea that she needs to overachieve to earn anyone’s attention. when applying to university, she was choosing between theatre, law, and journalism. a few little details: her full name is andrea jane alexandra sachs, and she smokes when she’s under a lot of stress, usually three to five cigarettes at a time.

it's random enough, but karen is like a princess and joyce is like a knight. i just have a huge lore for them in my head... im rotting again

i've just started watching st, because i don't really like this kind of project. but i started watching mainly because of joyce and karen. my two favorite women are now forever.

i love the fact that everything is calm now. I love them both. they are gorgeous. they are my mothers.

but all this with marina's reaction to stefani made me create some stupid sketches. sorry for this