#thread; chrissy

Except take out these innumerable Hefty bags of hefty trash. Their help would've been real damn nice.

But Chrissy hauled them easily though, tossing one into the dumpster, then the other. She stepped back when she smelled something... unexpected. Over the dumpster's rotten-sweet stink, the wolf scented someone.

@murderousbitch​ cont. from here

     The smell of human blood followed her as she wound her way behind the bar. She kept a first aid kit under the counter, beneath the register, and she dragged it out now and wiped off the thin layer of dust. “First off,” she said, not even trying to hide her annoyance, “the name’s Chrissy. Not C. Secondly, I don’t have a lot patience for this. You’re lucky I was there or you would be bleeding out in the street. You can go back out there, if you want.”

@gentle-hearted

"Yeah. Of course." Chrissy opened her mouth to say more, but immediately shouted across the park instead, "Lizzy! Don't you pour that sand on your brother's head" --then wearily, resignedly, and much more quietly-- "and you just did. Great."

It was the weekend and she had her eight-year-old niece and nephew staying with her. The park was one of their usual stops on nice Saturdays. And now one twin was cackling while the other shook sand out of his hair and clothes and grumbled.

"You're okay, Evan," Chrissy called to the boy. "Just shake it off."

She let out a sigh, shook her head. Yeah, it's a lot more fun than it seems right now. They're usually better behaved. Probably they're excited to be away from their parents for the weekend. Instant hyperactivity." They'd run out of steam soon... just in time for dinner, and their second wind.

@endlessmarks​ cont. from here

      Ugh, he was one of those. Arrogant little fucks. She really couldn’t stand them. 

      Chrissy crossed the floor and headed to the bar. “Then love your pain some more because I ain’t helping you for shit.” And true to her word, she walked past the register and the space beneath where she kept the first aid kit, and instead picked up a bottle and began to pour herself a glass of whiskey, straight. It wasn’t often she followed the advice of a vampire, but she really didn’t need to waste her time with him. 

@southern-belle-outcasts​ sent:  “Why is everyone givin’ me nasty stares?” Rogue / Chrissy

memes || selectively accepting

     “Oh, I don’t know.” She wouldn’t say everyone--just about half. The other half stared in a far different nasty sort of way. And maybe that was the root of it. 

     “I’d say you grabbed all the attention with all that confidence and these jealous types can’t handle it.” Chrissy passed the woman a half smile. “That and you’re a new face in a small town. It’s bound to cause some stir. Ignore them.”

     It wasn’t a contest, was it? It’d be a morbid one if it was, and Chrissy would rather not have that sort of pissing contest. But fair was fair. She blew out a breath, cheeks puffed out momentarily. “Well, I have sad stories aplenty, but nothing to top that.” Not that she wanted to.

     She leaned forward across the bar, towel slung across her shoulder, almost hidden by the mass of red curls that spilled down her arm. “I had a lot of cousins growing up. Lot of siblings too. Just, a lot of kids around in general. We’d go down to the river to swim. Some of the bigger kids--boys, mostly--wanted to swing from this old rope tied to one of the overhanging branches. That damn rope must’ve been there for a couple generations at least. The thing wasn’t too sturdy after all the years.”

       She grabbed a nearby rag to wipe up a circle of condensation. “But none of that stopped my little cousin, Garrett. He was eight, I think? Too little to even reach the rope, really, but he wanted to be like the big boys. Carson helped him up and he was just... swinging away. Laughing, happy as can be, holding on for dear life.He got braver and braver with each swing.” Chrissy paused, meeting the woman’s eyes. “And then he let go. Hit the water with a splash, started swimming.” She smiled wistfully at the memory. “Natural swimmer.”

     The smile faded. “It was the cottonmouth that got him. He must’ve hit it when he landed. None of us had seen it or sensed it until he was treading water and screaming.”

     It was the paint fumes that drove her from the building. She needed fresh air, badly, but the air seemed no better here. With temperatures rising fast, so did the bad smells of the street. Asphalt, car exhaust, something rotting in a dumpster somewhere, and cooking food--all combined it made for an awful smellscape.

     What she wouldn’t give for a cigarette. The burning tobacco would cover everything else. It wasn’t a pleasant odor to most, but Chrissy didn’t mind it. It was better than this.