⋆ / oasis

Sunny was leaning his head on the counter at the old-school cafe, a judebox playing music from the sixties in the back, a lady walking around with long legs refilling coffee mugs, and the smell of freshly baked apple pie wafting from the kitchen.

He tried not to notice all those things, he was beat, exhausted. He'd followed Doctor Eric's orders and not worked for six weeks until the caste could come off. And now he was doing extra work to make up for it. Just a few more nights, he promised himself. Until he felt stable enough.

He opened his eyes, and noticed a pair of legs on the seat beside him. He quickly straightened, ran a hand through his hair, and slapped his own cheeks. He'd grown up on the Mehra mantra, never to be caught looking anything but picture perfect. Luckily, he had the face for it.

"Did you see if someone already came by to refill the mugs?" he asked, smiling brightly. He could see his mug was empty, no steam coming off it.

"not yet but i just got here," she supplied in dishonesty. it came with practice the way she spoke without the lingering bitterness of a failed con. sure, she was explicit in thai within the private confines of her head for going the lengths of glamouring the waitstaff into leaving them alone for even a couple more seconds so that she could sleight a wallet out of a sap, yet no one would be wiser. lifting a manicured eyebrow and hoping to coax some sort of reparation out of them, "buy me a coffee?"

As if her night couldn't get any worse, there it was, arriving right on time: a low but persistent throb just behind her eyes, the start of a headache that would surely knock the heiress off her ass (if the alcohol didn't first). Beleaguered at the idea of having to make another single decision for the rest of the evening, Cassandra turned what was surely a desperate and pleading expression to her new companion, brows pitched miserably. "Please, I'm open to suggestions. Better yet, you can just pick for me. I'm not exactly the adventurous type when it comes to the world of cocktail drinks," she confessed, stopping short of admitting that she wasn't the adventurous type at all. Though her night of misfortune had loosened Cass's usual defenses against the outside world, the high society training of her upbringing had hard-wired her to keep any potentially incriminating information close to the vest, even if it was something as seemingly inconsequential as her general risk aversion. Despite the reality that she'd been unceremoniously demoted to sit on the sidelines of her family's affairs, the impulse to protect herself and her untouchable image was as natural to the blonde as breathing.

Watching intently as her drink was poured out in front of her, Cassandra examined the glass carefully, assessing the beverage with the sort of curiosity that she usually reserved for a particularly riveting academic lecture. Humming thoughtfully and accepting the offering with a decisive nod, she swiftly picked up the glass and took a generous swig, eyes shutting with relief the moment the liquid hit the back of her throat. "You could say that," she remarked, managing a self-deprecating chuckle. "Car trouble. Got stranded in the middle of the woods, had to figure out a way to get the thing running and get anywhere with air conditioning," she added by way of admitting the actual truth, hoping that her white lie would explain away her unkempt appearance.

FROM THE CORNER NEXT TO THE SNACK TABLE she had managed to sequester herself to, out of convenience for her hand diving into a bowl of pretzels and for the purpose of being dragged into another game. Stella was excited for the event that was in the name of their soon-to-be baby girl, truly she was and it was made evident by the fact that neutrality had taken over her expression rather than the usual disdain, but even that hadn't made hosting an event where she towing around the guest of honor less overwhelming for a biker who would rather command a room and immediately walk right out of it after. "Listen, you're not allowed to judge me for hiding out over here. Take my advice, if your overzealous mother ever offers to help with your baby shower by picking the games, don't fall for it. Any less work wasn't worth...whatever the hell she's tryna get everyone doing." Something with chopsticks and pacifiers that no one could survive from looking ridiculous while participating, even if it did make the perfect opportunity for the queenpin to slink away—as much as one could at her size—to where she was now. "S'long as Cyrek looks happy, though; that's really all I care 'bout." And he did, the last time she had seen him, which was worth any amount of baby-themed games or threats of any hand that touched her stomach was asking to be lopped off. "God, and getting another one of those fucking mini cupcakes off that display. Y'think anyone will notice if I steal another one? 'Cause I'm running out of ways to make it look like none of 'em are missing from the stupid stand."

She liked to people-watch above all else, and the drive-in had turned out to be an oddly entertaining destination for it. She didn't expect much—had her bar so low it may as well have been non-existent, really—so the snarky retort in earshot made her lips curl into an amused smile.

Whether it was directed at her or not didn't matter. Lilura had heard it as she headed back to her car, popcorn in hand, and she couldn't resist the temptation to find out.

Brown eyes remained focussed on the screen in front. "If you're talking to them," she murmured with a jerk of her head towards the backs of the chirpy teens, careful to keep her voice low so other patrons didn't deliver her the same message, "too little too late, love. If you're talking to me... well, no."

Lilura had settled on the right side of Fallon, putting herself between the woman and the speaker. Her small popcorn was extended toward the other, perfectly manicured, glossy nails filed into almond tips wrapped around the red and white stripes. Only then did she turn her head to catch the other's gaze.

"you have no idea," the biker lamented, finally breaking eye contact and throwing a couple morsels between the teeth. rolling a shoulder, she couldn't help herself but continue, encouraged by the presence. "but no, i wasn't talking about you. actually, you almost scared the shit outta me with how quiet you were showing up like that." especially for the fact that one cursed like fallon was more apt than the average to notice the slighter things. "doesn't matter, i was just bitching. but glad to be of service," lifting a bemused eyebrow in reference to the other's smirk. "finding it more interesting than the movie or you just don't wanna go back to your hedge fund husband?"

Fallon was one of her favorite server's to work with if the vampire was being totally honest, Iris loved the amount of snark she had and they matched energy so most of the people in the bar knew to behave or they could taste concrete. It put her at an ease that the afternoon was going to go smooth or at least smoother than she thought it was ( on top of the fact that everyone and there mother was hungover ). Grabbing Fallon's jacket, grabbing the glasses with a cat like ease and setting them on the counter; sliding over to hang the jacket up on the staff coat rack so the other wouldn't have to move around too much.

Wincing at the look on the other's face and the messed up makeup she poured them two shots of apple flavored soju, knocking the other's shot glass before downing the drink. "To answer all of your questions, nothing and no-one fun" Iris muttered with a pout, thinking about the last time she even had a date. "And it's not a cry for help if it's new and we are breaking it in, drink up it will make that cloud of fuzz around your head go away faster baby."

"we should just neck this," she said, licking her lip. then, eyeing iris across from her, "we need to get you some ass. can't remember the last time someone came 'round for you or any hook-ups in the storage closet. that's too long." swiveling on her cracked pleather barstool, fallon glanced out at the weak crowd currently in the dive bar with none that had any mind to meet her gaze. she waved the arm brandishing the soju to display their selection, "go on, what's your type?" and because she was already enabled by the brunette's care, she nursed from the bottle and only partially to hide her smirk. pointing to the sound of jangling spikes and chains encircling a bony wrist, "what about that guy, with the big beard? if we spray him down in the back alley, i think he could clean up nice."

ANNAKI WAS ATTEMPTING TO BALANCE an overstuffed bag of popcorn, effortlessly leaving a trail of pieces that had tumbled out of its container in their wake with every step they took. The toy store employee was there for a viewing by themselves, unable to wrangle their brother into going when he was tangled up in home life and their partner busy with previously made plans. Staying in the house alone, even with their trusty service canine at their side and ready to attack anything that could threaten them from the shadows (plus a miniature pig that had too much energy and made too much noise for the space they shared with Andrea to ever feel spooky when the air was filled with their little snorts) was still something that left every hair on their body standing straight up if they thought too hard on the face burned into their brain. Even if the blonde was in the running for the most oblivious person walking the streets of Las Vegas, the five words had somehow been caught by her ear, and her grey eyes widened when she turned around and squeaked out in horror, "Me? Was I talking out loud to myself again? I keep trying to stop that, but I'm always talking to my dog..." She trailed off on her own rant, blinking at the biker. "You look kinda tense. Is it even comfortable to sit on a bike for a whole movie?"

"Oh, low blow to my potential date!" he called, then laughed. "I wish, honestly. I haven't been on a date since the last time, remember that lady who swore by horsemeat. How do I keep on ending up with the crazy ones." He sighed. But his dating life was nothing new to Fallon, who got all the stories, whether she wanted to or not.

He frowned as he remembered that particular thing about Vampires. "I'm so glad I'm not one of yous," he said with a nod of sadness. He'd rather die than loose his touch with dogs. But he did wonder why not tonight. He was missing so many things. The problem was just that meetings and updates were just so boring and he was always day-dreaming about dogs. "Hmmm, I guess I'll just have to disappoint the punks and not show up. Though I'm also not stepping on that motor of yours."

She did appear pitiful, but Matevos never judged Fallon for anything. He had her back whatever happened. Unless she turned him into a Vampire, but she knew he'd hate that. The question hit him, because he could understand her emotions on the matter. "If he is, I don't think he should be. Funerals aren't for everyone," Matevos commented. "Are you mad at yourself for not going?"

leave it to the vet and long-time friend to raise fallon's spirits. she had half a mind to change it and entice matevos to hop aboard anyway. shrugging a shoulder, she drawled, "eh, let 'em live another day to make their mistakes. i'm sure we're on a crash course with them at some point, and we can make a lesson of it then." and the pair of them were likely to make casual enemies with the innocuous of las vegas any day in between.

The post new year bash that had most of the town curled up with their hair of the dog honestly made Iris chuckle just a bit on the inside, she wasn't really that sorry for most people who choose to get so black out drunk that they needed booze first thing in the day as to not vomit their lungs out. Polishing a shot glass as she leaned back on the counter behind her with a twisted small little smile on her face for a single moment, blood stained crystal eyes looking around the room at a crowd of mostly regulars sipping at their drinks for a moment; the once chaotic bar almost calm for a change which normally would have Iris on her toes but right now she was just enjoying the early shift. She was just thinking that between the calm and the noise from that loud night before she liked the quiet until she heard the door open bringing a new face with it, quickly pushing off the back counter with a soft sigh she slipped the shot-glass back to it's place. "How are you doing after last night?" She asked with a soft tone added to her voice, leaning forward on the counter before her. “And what can I get you today?” She smiled, voice soft just in case they were suffering from a hangover much like most of the people sitting around

an obfuscation could be seen in the shadows outlining the drive-in, nadine's slender figure distorting the tree branches that were blackened from the darkness of the night and cutting through the silvery light of the moon. she emerged with a cigarette fastened between her teeth, as she so often appeared to those whom she deemed worthy enough of visiting while off the clock. no, she hadn't technically stalked fallon there - nadine was already present, only encouraged to monitor the other's footsteps when she hadn't immediately recognized the enforcer - but she couldn't deny the surge of whimsy and mischief she felt spying from afar. she observed the girls as they skipped past the scene of fallon acting as miserable as nadine knew she had to have been if she needed work with the cats, and a smirk befitted her face as she began sauntering closer to the car.

"girls just can't have fun anymore, can they?" she spoke up when she was within reach, eyebrows perked upwards inquisitively and with sarcasm shining in her eyes. she could tell when someone was desperate for a beating - fallon was much alike nadine in that way, they were both suckers for a good fight. "someone should inform cyndi lauper."

film already forgotten, the road captain accepted the cigarette with more care than most revered things, looking as though melting once the smoke billowed about the bronchioles. she spoke through the exhale, "not sure but it beats rotting away at home. though, i'm hopin' i got enough left in the tank to make it back or i'm gonna have to push 'er the rest of the way. or get creative. you wouldn't happen to have a can on you?" taking a shorter drag so as to not appear greedy, fallon handed over what remained of the spoken for cigarette. "and how's your girl? still livin' the dream and keepin' it safe?" it would be a lie if she said there wasn't a tint of jealousy colouring her words, but it remained that she was asking at all and it said more about her loyalties.

"You know... we can't keep meeting like this."

There were worse romance novels written without their names attached, but peering through the crack in her apartment door when she wedged it open an inch, in all her disheveled state ( still beautiful, from what he could see, and he was nearly kicking himself right in the ass for it. ) The humor fell flat. As fantastical as his thoughts had run wild with the rumination that she was cutting herself out of existence like a newspaper clipping to save face of the embarrassment that had flashed, stark, across her features in strawberry dapples and the wide eyes that matched the cadence of his own curious gaze, he didn't think that she would hide herself away for so long. After the fifth visit to the Mean-Eyed Cat and turning up empty, Cyrek had discretely let slip the note of her apartment number, albeit conveying uncertainty that she would even be there. The other part of him thought that if the shame had been so mounting, she would have tackled the first Greyhound bus out of there, paying no mind to anyone else, a ghost in the wind. However, he was too skeptical for that conspiracy; no, Fallon Jiva was just sentimental enough for her talons to cling to the lifeblood that was Las Vegas, destined to haunt the cursed land where she had been bathed by the backroom deals her parents made, the snaggletooth edge behind her ear the product of their sins.

There was a serpent that wrapped around the circumference of his heart and squeezed it in its tightening grip, the evidence of dirge a source unknown to him, and he persevered, still, with the aspiration that there was a chance of seeing her. Of lightening her burden, when it was not his to bear. ( Because she wasn't his partner anymore, hadn't been for a long while. The title of his had never really been his; Fallon belonged to herself, always, and he would never gild her to a cage. But he did miss her, his heart twisted up into silly knots since their lips met, and in the crossroads of his self-preservation, his curiosity, and the responsibilities he felt indebted to his family. ) "Can I come in?" His voice was soft and light, honeysuckle wavering in the breeze of a West Virginian spring day, airy enough to caress the mournful streaks of makeup that he could barely make out. "The kiss can't have been so bad that you feel like you need to hide out here for the rest of your life." Dustin was reaching for humor again, practically tacky putty to his vertebrae, and a hand raised to gently grasp at the frame of the door. Ghost didn't need an invitation to enter. They simply did. "What happened? You ran off, and..."

it was hard to process what she had been told wasn't technically her fault. even the police couldn't piece together a motive as to why fallon would have pushed seokmin into the lake only to then nearly drown herself trying to retrieve him, and so they had let her free ( though begrudgingly ). but comprehending what had happened that fucking horrific night had nothing to do with her own flippant disregard for her limitations in near-drowning and subsequent hypothermia, and everything to do with him. dare she say a friend, and a relative of her own found family. how could she attend his funeral when she couldn't move past why it happened at all? if she hadn't been so fucking difficult to decipher even to her own methods, would she have been on that dock in the first place? seokmin would have paced away with his beloved companion, and she wouldn't have -

at some point, the haunted figure on the floor had ceased reading and tumbled back down into the dark recess waters of her mind, only emerging when knocks sounded at her door. perking cautiously, suspecting another foul trick of the mind, she decided it best to scope it out if for nothing other than playing the part of the strange soothsayer of the building on the lookout for ghosts. she tossed the book aside and padded over to the peephole, breath catching when the tiny fish-eyed image of dustin washed over. there had now been a couple exchanges between them that affirmed his existence wasn't just a figment, but she was still mulling that over before the new trauma invented itself. it was evident once she pried open the door with the way she regarded him for a moment and then satiated her morbid curiosities. a huff of a laugh breathed out at his ice-breaker, fallon none too shy to open the threshold while in her current state of undress lest of all in front of him. drawn unbeknownst, she too leaned to the side of the frame he accompanied. a nod was all she gave at his bid, then, another laugh low and gravelly at his words. "believe me, i'd love for our kiss to be the only thing that's makin' me insane." a double entendre she hoped he'd catch. maybe just the part that involved them, and not the half that meant she'd have to explain what happened after she dashed off like some stupid high-schooler at a spring fling. yet, still he asked.

turning away as the smile fell, the cactus cat ambled away with the open invitation permitted by the nod for dustin to help himself inside. she ran her hands over her face and up into her hair, finally thinking that she should appear a little more presentable - something more like a rockstar after a wild night and less like the wreck she had been and causing in her own home. a wipe over the cheeks meant her makeup was messy and not tear-logged. with a swallow she faced him again, eyes slitting a touch for sincerity as she said, "can we not talk about that night? i'm not... ready for that." brows pulled together at his bargain. what would make him think that? fallon wasn't the easiest to read but she'd like to think he knew well enough by now that she wasn't about to kick him to the curb. not after they had just found each other again, and whatever that meant. "you don't have to go, dusty. of course i've missed you. why would i tell you to leave?"

solitude, once a reliable companion, now felt hunted. or worse — shared.

the giggling girls were long gone, their sugar-sparkling laughter trailing off into the night air. but the biker remained a storm cloud in leather.

“you’re louder than you think.”

her voice carried the thought as if setting a stone neatly on a table. not unkind. not sharp. just truth, warranted or not. she stayed at a respectful distance, weight shifting subtly as she read the lay of their mood—defensive flare, brittle edges, something bruised beneath.

“though,” she added after a beat, tone smooth and slip-clean, “i suppose the desert echoes whatever you feed it. noise gets lonely out here.” her eyes lowered briefly to the tail of the bike—its dust-veiled exterior, its quiet exhaustion. 

"you prove my point," gesticulating a flippant hand in the wake of the obnoxious. "if i'm the one who's being loud and they couldn't even hear it then they need to shut the fuck up. preferably the whole movie." she couldn't sound any more like a batty old woman wanting the children off her lawn if she tried. it made her nearly pout, all too aware this was the dumbest conversation and far too shallow a grave for the energy she'd spade. tooth met nail when she bit from her thumb, sparing a glance at the film on the big-screen as if to whisk off the settling layer of self-pity before looking at the brunette woman and sensing a commonality in their introspection.

"i like that, 'the noise.' you just think of that? or you're just relating."

Matevos appeared seemingly out of nowhere. But in truth, he believed in he had some internal Fallon-radar. It didn't work half of the time, but the half it did work, he was meant to find Fallon. Clearly he hadnt' been during the Halloween thing. Which was fine. But now, clearly she was in need of the big labrador to stand by her side and... be a source of entertainment.

"I need what you need! And I have just the thing," the veterinarian said, wrapping a huge arm around Fallon's shoulders. She was the perfect height to lean on, but he tried not to lean too heavily. "I've been scaring these punks at the skateboard rink," he said. "And they've been pretending they can take me on, so we picked a date for a good beat down. I have three of the larger dogs in the car," he added. "Are you in?"

"ugh, how did you find me?" she squeezed out playfully sour, compressed as she was once that muscled arm constricted about her frame and nearly pulled her off the bike, a leg lashing out to prevent herself and the machine from tumbling over. he smelled of wool, old coffee, and a bit like a dog, and she allowed the embrace for a few moments before attempting to peel away though the weak smile conflicted with the idea that she disliked his contact. "unless you're here for a date, in which case, i'm not sure she'd love seeing you bumbling all over another woman. especially since i'm hotter." she wasn't even sure that he was here for someone else, and be it that he spent so many eves watching her back, this particular cactus member had a knack for sniffing her out unlike any other.

The synod was still out for the jurisdiction of whether he was the asshole for showing up when, just weeks ago, he had been talking with Khadroma about the premise of the advertised party and going together — time ticked on and morphed into another lifetime entirely, and although his eyes had sought out the other soon-to-be second-time divorcee once or twice, he eventually resolved to drown the residual contrition on a couple of the blood red margaritas. The stygian mood was apt to be untrussed by the appearance of an ancient myth, perusing the form of a woman, her glamor preceding her when she poured over efforts to alter her appearance. He was convinced that she could spin straw into gold, were she to put her mind to it, a former debt collector for the scourge of bikers creating cash out of crop that wasn't bountiful nor reliable. There shouldn't be any room for pride in something that someone like him, outwardly a law-abiding citizen and tending to a collection of frogs and all his free time emptied into researching the stars, should consider a nefarious means of living. However, he had never made effort to entrap her, ask of her to become something that she wasn't — there had been ample dreams for the kind of life that they could forge if they could separate from the cards that life had unfairly dealt them, surmounting pessimism tugging on the strings of two pink lines on a pregnancy test, but the hamper that had been thrown over each of them was unanticipated.

Dustin must have been in a real self-pitying mood for the glimpse of her to ruminate that where they were could be different. The lost time didn't feel wasted, not at all, as he didn't think he could harbor regret for Lionel — the consequential change of the big, bad word of divorce to hit him for the second time in his life did incur thoughts of how fate could be altered.

He didn't even know if he believed in that, fate.

instead, "you know there isn't a 'no' in this heart's vacancy sign." it was delivered with a layered, cocked smile. all things left unsaid that she could trust he would recall in that singular line. the chunk carved out for her parents that they could never commit to, the loves lost and gone, the loneliness that the remainder held for herself and all its self-sabotage and loathsome. the point of her shoulder roughed across bark, desiring to close the gap between them but refraining. always guarded, but it seemed not just against external forces, but from within for better or for worse. fallon felt the bite of the assuredly solid trunk next on her spine, the long white dress from the thrift store doing little to cushion. similarly platformed boots pointed toward one another, and from them her eyes roved upward to gaze through blackened lashes at his countenance. a long-limbed hand reached out as if to draw him closer but rather fingered along the collar of his top to smoothen it out, for once their colour palettes an arrant contrast. black and white. the twilight enshrouding them a desaturated veil as though to bridge the dichotomy. "you're right. it wasn't." a woman of few words. licking her lips, a passing notion to have a cigarette had a hand subconsciously feeling for the lighter, knocking against it in the waistband of her underwear before falling limp, not the time to darken their interaction in literal smoke and mirrors. the other finally retracted despite needing the reassurance that he really was standing before her. then, head tilting, "something on your mind?" and hoping it didn't sound... wistfully hopeful. "other than being faced by a woman in white of your own making."