The Good, the Bad and the Dirty | pxrphyria
“Well my “narrow worldview” happens to have kept me alive the last nine years, so, ya know, I’m probably going to keep it that way.” Her eyes narrowed as if challenging him to tell her otherwise. On the run from the age of sixteen, Felicia had become an expert at evading death. It was only a matter of time before that all caught up to her.
And in a blink, he was gone, leaving Felicia to trace the bruises around her throat as she turned to grab her bag from the other room, head shaking with the shock of what had just happened.
—– Wednesday.
The dress was in the truck, surprisingly. And it still fit, if a little loosely, pale fabric hugging curves, material falling to her bruised knees. She even managed to find a pair of black kitten heels in one of the homes she had pilfered for her own. She had long given up on doing anything with her hair leaving it to aggressively curl at the ends and fall angrily into her face. She applied only a minimal amount of make up - enough to cover the bruises on her throat and highlight her eyes. She had even managed to find a small bag to carry her phone and a pack of smokes in, enough to get her through the night.
All things considered, the night needed to be worth it.
She arrived at the coffee shop thirty minutes early, early enough to grab an iced coffee and smoke on the patio outside. He had told her to be punctual - so, she was choosing to start the night in a dour mood.
The next few days passed in a flicker, hardly aware of his own actions throughout the night time hours, mind elsewhere until Wednesday arrived and it came back with a harsh presence in the moment that seemed to translate into overthinking every decision he had made days before.
It was stupid to think he could have snuck her into dandy territory, he was the only one as attuned as he was to her scent, yes, but the others were at least marginally aware of it, and his promise that the party would give her no trouble would perhaps be one he had trouble keeping. His concern wasn’t for her safety, of course, but his own if William happened to catch on- but still, he dressed for the party and set his path for their meeting place, temper perhaps only dampened by his instinctual need to try and preserve himself.
He found her easily enough, drinking coffee and smoking on the patio in a dress and heels, hair just as wild as it always was but he couldn’t expect anything greater of her, it was short notice, and she had absolutely no desire to be there.
“Looks like we’re both early.” he stated, reaching into his coat and handing over a mask, an ornately carved metal item that, true to his word, would functionally obscure half her face that seemed to be fastened only by two green ribbons, a coincidence, more than likely. His own mask remained tucked into his coat, an ornate black and red skull of beads and metal that denoted his hive alliance and rank, Orlando Dandies, Alpha male. A way to denote him among his peers while keeping him hidden from those similarly invited to the ball.
“That’s for you, As I promised, your face will be covered for the entirety of the ball, and you’re denoted as my guest, so only the incredibly stupid will try to make a meal of you.”
