calculated chaos

Touching two fingers to his temple, Aster flourished a mock salute before pouring the whiskey into their glasses. “Aye, aye, captain.” It felt like a normal day of the week except that he had never entertained her in his home before ( nor many of the others from the Rookery ). It was an odd feeling akin to being bare that struck him for some reason but Peridot was far from a stranger at this point. “Hah, you haven’t seen the feedback system I’ve got lined up.” He set the drink down within her reach on the low coffee table, the ember liquid, a desired burn down the throat, swirling inside the glass almost beckoning. “I might be a better runner than you if I tried,” he said, punctuating with a teasing grin. “Maybe even give Frost a run for her money.”

Peridot shot up at the mention of Frost, not sober enough to let it go or drunk enough to laugh it off. Back straightened, she grimaced as she raised the liquid to her lips, snarling into it. Whether it had been deliberate or not (and judging by the look on his face, she would have said it was) Aster had touched a nerve. No doubt he was waiting to see how she responded. It was the Unseelie way. “You do realise that you’re a fucking toddler to me, right?” With the exception of Mal, everyone felt so young to her. “Plus - and you can jot this down to help you remember - I’m better than Frost. Okay?” Draining the remaining liquid from her glass, she slid it across the table - clearly asking for a second.

Isabella nodded slightly at the comment on her social life. She’d never admit it, but it was a point of pride for her. Some people were destined to be nobodies - she wasn’t one of them. “Oh, well. I spent a lot of time looking for trouble. Bigger stories clear a bigger check.” The comment was flippant, but Isabella’s commitment to the truth, to the thrill of the chase, was anything but. Her blasé attitude was simply a front, not many people responded warmly to the intensity with which she pursued a story, especially when it was a story that promised to shake the city to its core. “People in this city actually sleep? Thought that was an urban legend.” Isabella let out a small, bitter laugh, but her eyes slid to Peridot with renewed interest. “You’d consider that murder prank… one of the ‘best bits’?” Isabella aksed, her voice laced with curiosity rather than judgment.

A girl looking for trouble? A woman with an ambitious glint in her eye? And unapologetic about it all? It wasn’t that Peridot was impressed, per say (humans weren’t capable of such feats), but she had to admit - this person had begun to captivate her attention. Peridot would have liked to see her tangled further in the Feyry world. It would either chew her up, or give her cause to flourish. “Is that how you ended up at Imbolc in the first place? Looking for a scoop?” Or was it something more? Oh, she hoped so. The best stories were when humans fell head in first to something they were drawn in by, but had no hope of understanding. Peridot hesitated at her question. Feyry life was sacred. Even Seelie. So instead of nodding, she shrugged. "It spiced things up, didn’t it?” Who didn’t like a little bit of chaos? “Of course, it was crudely done. And there was so much blood. I prefer my sadistic indulgences to unfold a little more delicately. And a little more soul crushing.”

At this point, the informal monikers hardly registered with Adare anymore. He’d heard and seen Davey refer to him as king man for nearly a year. Still, he rolled his eyes in a show of seemingly genuine mild annoyance lest Peridot take it upon herself to search for more actually annoying nicknames. “No, I usually let them pick me up.” Or let his appearance do the talking. Adare hadn’t gone out of his way to pick someone up in the last fifty years, could count on one hand the number of people he’d done so for. “You should try it though. They’d probably bite, but you might sound like more of an asshole than even I do.” He folded his arms along the bar, checking to make sure he wasn’t leaning on anything exceptionally sticky or wet as he spoke before cutting his gaze to the bartender who appeared. “Whatever she’s had, and is having, tonight, add it to mine.” He still had most of his drink left so he waited for Peridot to order before continuing. “Which, I imagine, isn’t that hard of an accomplishment to achieve.”

Unable to contain her amusement, Peridot gave a short snort at his reply. “Well,” She reasoned, words slurring slightly, “That’s not very macho man of you. I do hear that male masculinity is very...very...” She paused, drawing out the sentence for dramatic effect “Very insecure.” No doubt amplified in a King, a person who only never wanted nor needed for anything. “Nice to see you’re moving with the times.” She commented, winking as she leaned against the bar, eyes scanning the shelves behind the tender. The rest of Adare’s words were a blur to her, lost over the hum of the music - but she was still perceptive enough to pick up on Adare’s offer to pay. How charitable. “I’ll take the most expensive thing here. Preferably with gold flakes. For both of us. It’s very much his aesthetic.” Peridot crooned playfully, impatiently drumming her hands on the bar top. “I’m surprised you’re hanging aroind here. I figured there would be a whole line of women waiting to pick you up?”

Location: Azul Cafe Open to @ofperidot​

By the time Ivy found the tiny egg sitting on the roof top of the cafe, Ivy was at her wit’s end. Some of them had been easy–like the one for the pier, that had been a dead give away–but some of these put her knowledge to the test. And honestly if the Clan knew more about feyry culture than Ivy did…she wasn’t sure if that said more about her or more about the Clan. Ivy read the hint and let out a sigh. There were so complicated. Normally she liked stretching out her brain, but this one was just frustrating. Especially when prizes were on the line. Her competitive streak was coming out hard. She wanted to win. When she saw Peridot coming up, Ivy just held up the egg and rolled her eyes at the other Unseelie fey. “What on earth does underground music meant? These clues are insane.”

Really, a fucking egg hunt? That - and an over-exaggerated groan - had been her first reaction to hearing about the Clan and their goddamn chase. Half inclined to ignore it, it had only been a sense of superiority and competitiveness that pushed her forward, simultaneously caring and trying to give the impression that she didn’t give a flying fuck. Strolling into the Cafe, Peridot stared at the egg in Ivy’s hand. Made sense she wasn’t the only Unseelie on the hunt. Waltzing over, Peridot took the egg from her grasp, scanning it for herself - eyes puzzling over the clue. “Underground music, leave that one to me.” She scoffed, hoping she did understand it. This was, after all, her forte. Music scene? With Fey? That one came to mind instantly. “Oh come on, this one is easy.” Slamming the egg back in its place, she began to walk off, not sure if Ivy would tag along or not.

“Not this dragon.”

Elise blinked, not sure how to respond ( not sure what had provoked the fey ). Instead, her cheeks were on FIRE until she felt fingers leave her face, her jaw moving slightly - trying to loosen up the her muscles. “ … my bad, didn’t know you were the dragon.” Or that she had been the princess. Funny how this HADN’T been a re-telling of Mulan. 

She stepped into the bar, wondering what would happen now. A night out with Peridot already seemed to be much more different than imagined. 

Peridot didn’t hesitate in replying sharply, tone the edge of a knife. “There’s lots you don’t know.” That was a problem. It made her a liability. If she couldn’t offer anything but a body shield, then Peridot didn’t want her anywhere near Jasper or their plans. Thus far, it wasn’t going...well. For Elise, that was. Slipping in behind the human, she scanned the atmosphere - nodding with approval. “Go buy us both no less than five shots. Your choice matters.” You could tell a lot about someone by what they drank - and getting blisteringly drunk was only the first stage in the plan.

“Yeah, can’t say I’m pumped. But who knows, maybe interesting things will keep happening. Wouldn't want to miss out.” He pushed off the entryway, leaving the door open for Peridot to join him inside where he instinctively made a beeline for the shelf of drinks. “You know, normally I’d ask if it’s too early or late for bourbon but since it’s you… I know I’d be wasting my breath,” he quipped, looking back at the runner. Business with the elixir might take a toll after this but he had a feeling she’d survive either way. “On the rocks or neat?” His place was decked out in solid colours of dark greys and greens with accents of brighter shades belonging to the stylish rug on his living room floor. He had always felt the need to make the place feel a little cozier than it did. “Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge if you want.”

“I’ll bring the drinks, you bring the popcorn?” Peridot quipped, eyes gleaming playfully as she stepped into the apartment. Funny, in all the years they had lived side by side, she had never been past the door frame - and vice versa. Who knew it would take a Seelie death to make that happen? Things worked in the most mysterious ways. Scoffing at his question, she laughed. “Neat. Make sure yours is too.” It was the only way to drink. Instead of politely sitting down on the couch like most would have, Peridot took Aster at his word - making a beeline for the kitchen. She had to say, it was a little more homey than she would have imagined. Hers was the complete opposite. Greedy fingers pried the fridge door open, zeroing in on the leftover Chinese. Satisfied, Peridot grabbed the tub, wondering back into the living room, kicking her shoes off and putting her feet up on the couch. “You’re not a bad host. All those years in Customer Service are doing you some good.”

Elise merely followed, even if she had been burning to ask questions. Where were they going? What type of ‘work’ would they be doing? Why did Peridot suddenly want to spend time with her? There were many curious thoughts, and perhaps the only way to find the answers had been JUMP in to the unknown. 

“Depends on the princess,” she countered. “Dragons run out of fire, too.” 

When they suddenly halted in front of a random bar, Elise blinked, wondering, “what’s the game?”

Snorting at Elise’s retort, Peridot pivoted to face her once more. Licking her lips, she cupped a hand to her mouth, unleashing the full potential of her gift. Flames erupted, ending mere inches from Elise’s face. Peridot smirked. “Not this dragon.” If that didn’t frighten her, what would? Fire extinguished, Peridot’s hand reached out to grab the bar door, opening it for the human to enter first. “Go in and find out.” It was all a bit of fun...really. Nothing too serious.

An arched eyebrow was his only answer to the glass of whiskey she thrust toward him, a silent challenge in her eyes that Gale found mildly amusing. They were polar opposites, the two of them, but Gale was no stranger to whiskey – though he much preferred a fine wine given the choice. As this was her offering, though, he simply lifted the glass toward her in a silent toast before he tipped it back and swallowed down what remained, appreciative for the pleasant burning sensation that reminded him, I am here, I am alive, I can feel something other than pain. “Not a bad whiskey,” he commented lightly, “though I prefer mine with a touch more character.” A smile very nearly pulled at the corners of his lips when Peridot thought to bring things back to literature – a rather easy metaphor she’d chosen, but it sufficed all the same, “I am here, aren’t I?” Thanks to her incessant prodding, not that he necessarily minded her company. “Though I must say I’m rather disappointed you didn’t take the opportunity to proclaim yourself my fairy godmother. Am I not the one being dragged to the ball tonight?”

Given that Gale was only just catching up, Peridot had no qualms about pinching two more drinks from the grasps of humans surrounding them. Protests silenced with an icy glare (humans, even when they didn’t know the truth, knew they were subservient in this world) she placed one of the glasses in Gale’s hand, wine, she thought. “Here, maybe this one has more character.” She replied, mocking his words. Psh. Character. What did that matter when it was being poured down your throat? Hers, she thought as she sniffed, was vodka and...something. It would do. And down it went. Her head continued to buzz, a lightness taking over her. “Just about.” She conceded. “I was sure I’d have to resort to blackmail. Well - first I’d have to dig up shit. And then use it against you. Way too much effort.” With each moment that passed, he was becoming less wet blanket like in nature. “That would make me a supporting character.” She retorted with a playful grimace. “But, since I’m feeling benevolent. I’ll ease you into it. You can choose what we do first. And- “ She glanced around the room “- with who. Think outside the box.”

A crooked, half-grin bloomed across Adare’s face as she tossed the last of her drink back. “Well, far be it from me to ruin someone else’s fun outside of my sparkling kingdom.” Considering how their last interaction had gone, those last few words spoke more to how things would go tonight. Outside of Oakenfold, and most of the city uptown, Adare paid little mind to what other fey did       provided, of course, they didn’t insult him. Swiping a finger over his now damp arm, Adare licked the taste of Peridot’s former drink off before arching one eyebrow. “Buy you a drink? Even though you spilled yours on me?”

He still repulsed her. A dozen shots over a period of a couple of hours - and more than a few pills - wasn’t enough to alter that. He was the Seelie King and she was the...Unseelie something. The job title didn’t matter, the allegiance did. And although there was one instinct - a stubbornness left over from their last encounter - that told her to throw a few more drinks on him (or smash the glass on his head? Too far? Probably) - another found herself saying yes. Or well, nodding. It was hard to here over the noise. “Lead the way, O’Kingly one.” Peridot teased. After all, he wasn’t her monarch. Leaning over the bar, she gave him a curious look. “Do you tell chicks that, when you’re picking them up?”

Lacha’s brows raised briefly at the crude comment, accompanied by an amused exhalation, and the flash of a smirk, though somehow, even with that response, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t talk about her sex life, and she wasn’t about to start here, now, or with Periodot of all fey. She considered saying nothing at all, but she had the feeling that would play into what Peridot wanted, that Peridot was trying to deflect from her pushing too hard on the topic of murder so she shot her a look and said, “Having a child.” She knew the impression she was leading Peridot too, and she was okay with it; she didn’t mind letting Peridot think that sex had been a means to an end for her, even as that wasn’t the case. It was safer that way, for her, for Gale. “There are things more important than pleasure and much as you like to play the wild thing, I know you know that.” Or at least, Lacha hoped she did. A sip of the wine followed, as she studied Peridot. “You know, even for the joke, I don’t even think you’d murder without good cause, at least not a fey. Humans mean even less to you than they do to me, but fey? That’s different and we both know it.”

Then, at the questions, leading as they were, she simply leaned back, half-shrugged then smiled coldly. “There’s a reason The Wandering Wood has long been the traditional punishment of choice.” She’d walked it once herself when she’d been young enough and stupid enough to deserve it; she liked it more for knowing just how miserable it was, for knowing she’d come back better for it but most didn’t. “What I’m saying is the right method of punishment is whichever one makes them so damn sorry it hurts twice as badly before it’s over or before they die.” Maybe she wasn’t so entirely lacking in cruelty, but then, she’d been raised knowing justice and punishment were about keeping the court secure, and she’d do anything for that cause. “It doesn’t mean much otherwise.”

Peridot shifted her position slightly at Lacha’s judgement of her. “Do I now?” It wasn’t as if she had ever - in centuries of existence - displayed any evidence to the contrary. The fulfillment of pleasure had always been her primary motive. The methods might have changed...the scenarios too - but that was the common thread that ran through. Others had love or family or loyalty or duty - she had only hedonistic pleasure. And it was all she had ever sought. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it.” She added with a snort. Because really? It was a ridiculous notion to her. Uncomfortably, Lacha might have been closer on the mark in her judgement of “playing the wild thing”. Perhaps it was time to amp up the antics. And she was spot on regarding the taking of Fey life. Peridot repeated the same rule she had known since childhood. “Fey life is sacred.” It was an Ancient Proverb - unchanged by centuries of strife. “But who’s to say what a good cause is?” Mine might not look like anyone elses. At her description of the punishment, Peridot refocused her thoughts, attention firmly on Lacha.  Punishment for maximum strife? Sounded about right. It might have been uttered very matter-of-factly, but Peridot sensed a chill underneath her voice.“Ah. I knew you could be a sadistic bitch when you wanted to be.” Hurrying quickly, Peridot laughed. “That’s a compliment by the way. Of the highest order.”

Ro laughed easily as Peri mock-bowed at her, the banter feeling natural and entertaining. “I expected you to do that with more of a flourish,” Ro teased. “Am I being nice? We’ll have to mark the occasion. Enough people ask me the last time anyone described me that way—short of mercy.” Mercy was the only kindness language Ro spoke fluently, and that mercy was not the reprieve that many sought, but instead the true end to suffering rather than the escape of it. “Though, if bed is on the table, I’m not necessarily opposed. To the bed. Or on a table.” Peridot’s attention flickered away from the Shadow for a moment, appraising the options and silently inviting Ro to do the same. “If it’s ladies’ choice, that’d definitely be your fuckin’ call,” Ro added with a laugh, but her eyes were cold and dark, and dared Peri to say otherwise. “Besides, this is your usual haunt—let’s see what you’ve got, and if I can offer any pointers, I will. It’s my night off, after all,” she added, her tone back to teasing. “No animals only means it’s frowned on if I keep the bones.”

The strobe lights softened Rowan, giving substance to a woman who was so often just a sword. She was a rainbow of purples and reds, flashing like lightning. It gave the Unseelie a certain radiance. “You don’t need an occasion to celebrate.” Peridot commented, raising another drink to her lips. Her head was buzzing, but the world wasn’t yet spinning. She couldn’t lose herself, not yet. So, like the predator she was, she waited - charging up. “Or a wall?” She suggested with a slick smile. Somewhere rough and wild. Somewhere they could ravage each other, exposing a savage beast. No one ever need dig too deep for Peridots. It existed just beneath the surface. Laughing with her companion, Peridot finished her analysis of the crowd. Dull. Dull. Dull. It was hardly worth yanking their heads off. “And you know what they say...all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Offering a hand, Peridot yanked the pair of them off the seats, a hunter with a scent. “Well,” She replied, with a wink, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Elise blinked, slowly processing her words. The court player didn’t know why the fey had been suddenly interested in her but … she wasn’t complaining either. The more she mingled with the Unseelie, the more chances she had of finding a way to win that damn game. Of course, before she had time to even respond, Peridot was already out the door. Elise quickly followed behind, haphazardly checking if she had everything, wondering, “uh, what work?” 

“Figure of speech.” Peridot shot back dryly, bouncing ahead without looking back to check and see if Elise was following. She knew she would be. They always did - a magnet, pulling them towards a ruin of some kind. Weaving in and out of the back passages, Peridot lead the pair of them to a door, opening it to reveal the city outside. “Although, it probably will be a strain on you. More of a Princess than a dragon type, aren’t we?” Purposefully, they strode away, intent on taking Elise to the first bar. After a while, she came to a stop. “It’s time to play a game.”

He picked up on the flicker of flames in Peridot’s eyes, the desire to fulfill Jasper’s taunt. A lot of the older Fey assumed that because he was younger he didn’t know as much and yes, he hadn’t experienced it, but that didn’t mean he shut off his mind to the times. If anyone wanted to talk about political instability, they just had to look at the world prior to the twenty first century and even now, it wasn’t in tip top form. No one’s hands were clean. His might just be slightly be better because of when he was born. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, reclining into the booth, letting the fire extinguish. Some of it came back at the mention of Lacha - this time on his behalf. “Trust me when I say I don’t underestimate her. I never would. She’s clever and those loyal to her are loyal with their lives on the line.” He wouldn’t mention that Lacha didn’t quite like him. Instead, they tolerated each other because of Cam, though that was its own advantage. “I keep my head low except for when I’m needed. For now, we stick to the rumors, I’ll work on recruits, and we assess what happens from there.”

Words were one thing, actions were quite enough. Jasper might have been making the right motions with his tongue, saying the right things...but speech was not the driving force behind everlasting change. Praxis was. The French beheaded their Royal family. The Russians did too. That was the attitude they needed to channel - minus the bloodiness, of course. Well, perhaps. Peridot would never rule anything out, but nor would she ever be the one to suggest that.  Raising the last of her beer into the air, she held it up to make a toast - chinking the glass against his own. “I’ll drink to that.” The more Jasper was willing to take on his shoulders, the less that ended up on hers - the risk decreasing proportionately. “Make sure to keep me in the loop.” She added, a dangerous smile dancing on her lips as she brought the last of the beer to her lips.

So Peridot knew Nick. The most unexpected connections tended to spring up in New York. It was a city made for investigative journalism. “Seriously. I’ve met a lot of politician’s kids, and they’re mostly all concerned with getting their parents reelected so they just to boring stuff like go to charity galas and talk about healthcare. Benjamin fits the bill, but Nick…” Isabella made a skeptical noise in the back of her throat, shaking her head as she recalled the elder Dalton’s reputation. She didn’t write for tabloids, but some of her more infamous colleagues did, and she wasn’t above taking a peak at page six every now and again. Isabella was pulled out of her contemplation at Peridot’s response about Imbolc, which was… certainly interesting. “Yeah,” she said slowly, drumming her fingers against her leg, “unbelievable is the word I’d use too. But I mean, the alternative is someone was actually murdered. And I know for a fact New York’s finest wouldn’t let that slide, especially given I’m pretty sure that fake body was a white lady.”

A wicked smile grew on Peridot’s lips. “Nick is Nick.” She confirmed, nodding at the human’s words. She really was going to need to remember her name one of these days, especially if she was going to prove this interesting. “I guess he wasn’t made for a world as dull as that.” She continued, somewhat cryptically, happy to drop hints here and there. Not enough to get herself into trouble, but more than enough to lead Isabella down the garden path. Smart girl, she wouldn’t drown. Not like the others. It wouldn’t stop Peridot trying to smother her though. Ears twigging at familiar names, Peridot had to admit she was reluctantly interested. “You keep impressive social circles.” It might prove to be her downfall. Laughing, surprisingly genuinely, at Isabella’s comment, she shot the girl a wryly, knowing smile. “Eloquently put.” Then, Peridot paused. “Although, this is New York. Hardly the safest place on earth. Anything could happen. Unfortunately, most people sleepwalk their way through life. They miss the best bits.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Hyacinth said the words, but the flick of his eyes down and to the side didn’t show the confidence that his voice did. He knew that this wasn’t a good idea; he knew that Peridot wasn’t one to play with — fire burned vegetation easily — and he certainly didn’t want to do anything that’d bring her down on Elise. But Hyacinth wasn’t young, and he certainly wasn’t going to let age ruin something that he’d been gathering since he was in his thirties —  a way with words.

There always seemed to be a power struggle with Peridot, sure, the other fey was older but she wasn’t older by much and Hyacinth didn’t believe, that just because he was born more suited to a more traditional Seelie power and learned to carry himself so he could easily go between the two courts ( learning from an early age that it was a life of being prepared for Knighthood even if you don’t manage to grasp it ) and she was far more Unseelie than Hyacinth was, that she had any sort of upper hand, or that she should be allowed to harden the parts of himself that he fights to keep soft.

“What? Are you jealous that our queen has a preference between us and it isn’t you?” Hyacinth said the words lightly, swallowing before saying them, “I’m sure if you asked others, their preference would hardly be you as well. So I wouldn’t get too cut up about it.” Hyacinth found a recklessness in himself at the knowledge he was on the next Tithe ( on the far greater possibility that Elise wouldn’t be able to win his name off of it ) but he still stayed his tongue on the next things he wanted to say; stopped himself from sweetly sliding insults over to her conversional ‘court’. This wasn’t something that he should be playing with.

Letting out a sigh and rolling his shoulders, running a hand through his damp hair that was curling haphazardly as it dried and picking out a bright yellow-orange calendula petal, Hyacinth prepared himself for further words. “It wasn’t ever clear, and I’m sure this is murky for most fey, why you dislike me so much, Peridot.”

She couldn’t help herself, she began to laugh, a torrent of amusement dancing on her lips. It was really was all too much - like watching a child dress themselves in their parents clothing, or a teenager playing at being rebellious for the very first time. Hardness did not suit him. Anger did not suit him. And he was a poor match for her, in every regard of the word. After all, he had so easily been distracted from his original point, the poor little dove Elise. All thought of her had been quickly forgotten. Instead, he sank his teeth into a meatier subject, the history of hatred between the two of them. Well. She could get on board with that.

Unlike him, she lived for conflict - devoured anger and fury and wickedness and made it whole inside of her. This was a battle easily won. And Hyacinth was a Fey easily unpicked. 

“You know, if Lacha ever tires of having you as her Knight, you’d make an awfully good clown. A fond pet of sorts. Can you do tricks?” To Peridot, he had little more worth. Not that she had ever seen it in him to begin with. Widening her tone, she allowed it to infuse with darkness. “I haven’t laughed like that in years.” Popularity, oh how she sniggered at that, at how little it mattered. It wasn’t the love of people, the Unseelie, that she sought. Merely their respect. Or at least, a nod recognising her as an equal. Few sought to deny her that. Even Frost, who had all the reason to deny it. Being liked got you nowhere. Being appreciated did. “Why I don’t like you?” She pretended to consider the question. “Because I’ve got more than half a dozen fucking brain cells trying to spark off each other.”

where: la caverna  when: march 17 2018 who: @ofperidot​

For the last fifty-three years, St. Patrick’s day had been one of Adare’s least favorite holidays, if only for the memories it brought with it. It wasn’t something he could pretend hadn’t happened, wasn’t something he even attempted to lie to himself, but once he had a few, or maybe a few dozen, drinks in him and enough company to pull his mind out from within itself, it was something that could seep into the back of his mind until he was either alone or something else pulled it out. As things went, tonight had been enough to keep the thoughts of Marian and her death at bay and he was in a good mood. It was why he wasn’t all too bothered when someone bumped into him, sloshing her drink over his bare forearm. “And here I thought Lacha would have you slaving away behind a bar pouring drinks, Peridot.”

Too intoxicated to form a continuing stream of conscious thought, Peridot instead allowed herself to be taken away by the music - its sound pouring into her skin and electrifying every nerve. This was the reason people lived. This was pretty much the only thing humans had ever done right. This was her domain, her kingdom - and she would never let it fall through her fingertips. Stealing drinks from other people’s hands and placing herself at the centre of the chaos, she hardly noticed the world around her, let alone the people in it. That was probably what made the collision all the more easier. Slamming into a solid figure, it took Peridot more than a few moments to register the face with a name. Straining to hear his voice about the music, she leaned in closer. “Well,” She began, draining the glass of the liquid that was left. “You know what they say, you can’t get a bad girl down.” Cocking her head, she stared at him. “So don’t try.”