#renn.starter

the devil didn’t apologize for the details he found himself in, and in such, she wasn’t surprised that knocking in the middle of the night always seemed to lead straight into temptation. they said he came as everything you ever wanted, after all, but that mystery was yet to be revealed. perhaps that was the reason for the line in her jaw, the way fingers were actually holding the door frame, but instead curled around the handle of the knife she’d picked up on the way (just out of sight, because we wouldn’t want to be rude). expectant tap of fingertips against her thigh, like an itchy trigger finger, before those features, still voided of emotion on principle finally crinkled, squinting, as if trying to find the right reason for daring to show up at all. “it’s three in the morning.” thank you, mr. sandman. she made a dramatic motion, pretending to lean around to get a better look. “and you ain’t bleedin’ nearly enough to be standin’ there with your mouth shut this long, sugar.” 

“ i told you i wasn’t doin’ this again. “ a simple statement, eyes glaring to the other opposing her. hands settle on her hips, a true testament of just how annoyed and over it she was.  siobhan was far from weak willed or naive, especially to go back on her word about something she felt so strongly regarding. chin lifts and head tilts, slight curiosity tinting her gaze.  “ any good reason i should this time ? “

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊  𝐎𝐅  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐀𝐑  is  drowned  out  by  the  loud  voices  of  those  enjoying  the  last  day  of  the  weekend  ---  he  too  ,  has  found  his  place  ,  a  booth  tucked  in  the  corner  where  company  comes  and  goes  while  he  watches  in  curiosity  .  so  many  things  have  changed  over  the  years  ,  he  knows  this  ---  but  it’s  not  something  worth  harping  on  when  there  is  a  full  glass  of  liquor  in  his  palm  .  he’s  set  to  concentrate  on  his  surroundings  when  voices  grow  louder  ,  more  aggressive  than  the  usual  roar  of  the  crowd  and  before  anyone  else  has  the  chance  to  react  ,  punches  are  being  thrown  not  far  from  where  he  sits  .  he  watches  ,  not  moving  ,  but  glances  towards  someone  nearby  before  raising  his  glass  back  to  his  lips  ,  ❛      well  ,  i    guess  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  before  things  started  to    get  interesting  ,  huh  ?      ❜ @rennreblogs​

@rennreblogs​ // open

the easiest lie was that comfort came when the sun went down and the day ended. sure, for those that bought and sold the lie of the american dream, a nine to five meant that sun down was the first step to freedom, but he wasn’t so sure. approaching the porch, it was no surprise the front swing was occupied, as folks didn’t seem to know enough about privacy or personal space when it came to the farm. it was a wonder, whether they came for business or pleasure, but no doubt, he’d find out soon enough. expression didn’t shift or change, and instead silence was all the greeting needed, paired with the chorus of boots hitting the wooden panels of the floor. chin tipped up, motion toward the door. “you’d think if you were going to show god and everybody, you weren’t raised with any manners, least you could do was come baring drinks.”  

the sound of a shot gun cocking was her favorite lullaby, called back from memory depending on make and model. the sound didn’t miss its mark now, either, she just looked particularly out of her mind as shoulders rocked with it, and smile danced on features seemed sick, out of place as a chuckle slipped free. “so do you want it or not?”  a simple question, an offer, and one that was expiring, regardless of whether or not the person opposite her knew that lovely little tidbit. 

skirting safely around the truth was something he’d managed to do a thousand times over, especially when you took into consideration that he was not a matthieu by last name. it made him a little bit harder to find, harder to spot, but not for long. the one thing that was not hidden, was the bruise that was decorating his eye. some would have said it was a badge of honor, proof he’d lived to tell the story, but they’d be far closer to wrong. instead, it was a reminder that his pain didn’t matter as long as the family that didn’t even want him, felt just a touch safer. selfishness, really. confusion seemed to pepper features easily enough, brows perking, as he turned back, clearly not accustomed to the attention. “huh?”  a sub-par response, his mother’s reminder for manners whispered in his ear. “sorry, we’re you talking to me?” 

He can feel his lip curl up into a sneer as he hears the chair next to him at the bar scrape across the floor to welcome it’s new occupant, more than ready to turn his anger on another target. “The seat was empty for a reason.”