⟨ kaitlyn dever, she/her, 27 80 ⟩ the night is crawling, and she is right within. the ⟨ vampire ⟩ moved below radar level, kept herself well hidden in her casket of thorns, and has only recently morphed back into a creature of the night, the ⟨ new owner of the bare essentials strip ⟩. what year was she born in? really? ⟨ 1945 ⟩? she's been stuck here for ⟨ over forty years ⟩, and yet every time i listen to ⟨ the bolter by taylor swift ⟩, i think about her.
Running away from problems is always easier than fixing them, at least for a moment or two. In her eighty years of life, Fiona has figured that they find a way to catch up sooner or later, no matter how severe they once used to be, no matter how young she used to be. Turns out, Fiona Fitzergerald has a thing for disappearances.
She loved her family dearly, especially her brother, and yet one day, she was simply gone. Vanished. Presumed kidnapped, missing, then dead. There's a tombstone with her name on it somewhere in England, one that erases her existence, and yet it isn't over yet. She's a liar, a bad, bad liar. Turned by a vampire after spontaneously eloping with him many, many years ago, she left her family behind for him, to love with him for all eternity, but eternity did not last long, he was gone sooner than forgotten.
Fiona has only truly begged once in her life, and it was at Edward's doorstep, when she asked him to join him for all eternity, when she asked him to grow old with her, just in an entirely different way. And he did. She found someone entirely in control that would turn him, and they did, making him the exact same thing she had been for a whole entire while - a vampire.
Finally, she stops running away, at least for a moment, for a fragment in her lifetime, to take over the Bare Essentials, a project true to her heart, soul and mind - and to her hands, that often wander over bodies she cannot have for all eternity.
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( @sanguinemagicks
-- last bite bistro
late, in the evening )
Last Bite Bistro. What an interesting choice of name in a place like Ashwick. where a last bite is more often the cause of death than a stab. The club only opens in two more hours, and she's got some time to spare. After eighty years of loneliness, well, not exactly, but almost, Fiona finds herself searching for company more often than not, and today she has stumbled upon this exact place, spotting a beautiful, enchanting, no, terrifyingly gorgeous creature not only existing, but singing. To be fair, Fiona has always believed in sirens, but her sight convinces her of their existence even more so. She watches the woman finishing up her gig, applauds like the rest of the guests do, and then takes the first chance she gets to slide up at the bar right next to her, pushing a freshly ordered drink in her direction.
"Evening, dollface." Fiona greets her, "Care for a drink with me?" She's in her usual attire. Well-fitted black dress pants paired with a white shirt, enchanted necklace dangling around on top of her chest, and when she sits down on the chair right next to her, she pushes the sleeves of her shirt up, revealing a few minor scars from falls she took as a clumsy child. She isn't any less clumsy now, and her smooth movements are disturbed by the chair getting caught on the floor, which sends her into a gentle stumble. "Aw, man.", Fiona grumbles, "Anyway, name's Fiona, what's yours?"
( @mccnbloods
-- the bare essentials
late, middle of the night )
It's slow tonight, slower than Fiona has anticipated. Mondays are always slow, but this one is worse than the one last week -- but the one before was even worse, so who is she to complain. A few dancers are mingling and chatting to lonely visitors, a bachelorette is all over two of her best dancers, but one of them is currently alone, near the bar, and Fiona disregards the bar in her favor and moves through the small crowd in front of one of the stages to slowly sit down next to her. Her white button-up's arms are scrunched up, muscles stretching out the fabric.
"You're flirting with my brother." Fiona's hair is put up in a tight bun, and while her freckles and soft facial features may make her look kind and approachable, the gaze in her piercing eyes does not. "Is that for the job, or is that because you like him?" The woman averts her gaze. Her brother flirts with many dancers. Many, many of them. Of course he does, they're all pretty, they wouldn't be working in her club if they weren't, but then again, he works there some nights, and she's usually all for the no mingling with coworkers rule. "If he breaks your heart, you're not getting any unscheduled days off." Fiona shrugs, but here's the thing, if Riley were to come up to her and ask her for it, she would agree, anyway -- one nice smile and a few words can go a very long way, if talking to a touch-starved vampire like her.
Her tongue digs against her sharp teeth, and she releases a big sigh, "Just don't do anything frisky right in front of my eyes, got it?"
To say that Natalia hated grocery shopping was an understatement. There were always too many choices and in general it was too boring for her liking. Which was why she liked to play little games with herself when she could. The most fun to her was shopping cart bowling, and at the end of her trip she tried to get a perfect score by pushing her cart into the return when it gave an unexpected veer to the right hitting a car. “Oh shit!” Natalia said before looking around and finding someone who watched the whole thing. “Listen I’ll give you $20 if you don’t snitch.” She offered before a sudden thought came to mind. “Or I’ll buy you lunch if that was your car.”
Disbelief. What a wonderful feeling. Fiona stares at her beautiful, sleek benz, and the small speckles of white now etched into the back fender. Her cart is already gone, her groceries for Bare Essentials are packed up, and likely melting right now, but all she can stare at is the new scratch. Her eyelid starts twitching. Slowly. But, surely. Fiona's head sinks against the cold metal, her hand touches the scratch and she breathes out, loudly, noticeably. "Jesus Christ." And she'd thought the day couldn't have gotten worse. Of course that was what she thought. Laughable. Truly, truly laughable. Her tongue digs against one of her sharp teeth, her eyebrows furrow, and she turns around to lean against the black surface.
"You'll buy me lunch." Fiona echoes. Of course, she's not keen on calling the police, given they might question what she's loaded up in her trunk, or where she's heading with it. Nosy cops in her club are nothing she's keen on, either. Anyways, back to the beautifully annoying young woman in front of her, "Sure, buy me lunch, and when will I get the other 2K it will cost me to fix this?" Her head crooks to the side, and she slowly looks her up and down -- not like she's a stranger, like she's dinner. Again, there is her tongue, pressing against the inside of her cheek, then trailing back to her teeth. Slowly, Fiona crosses her arms in front of her chest and lets a forced smile curl around her lips, "You've got a job, sweetheart?"