hex.

task 015; halloween

zina batista as a clown.

Sybill, far too used to these sorts of critiques of her odd, whimsical taste, gave a soft hum of acknowledgement as she flitted about the apothecary, shelving various new deliveries. “Well, when you work here you can pick the music.” She sung along softly under her breath, steps a back more rhythmic as she went. “Until then, put up or shutup.”

-

“ai, why would I work here?” zina asked looking around the earthy situation. it wasn’t really... electric enough for her. “I make the good music that you could be playing here instead. if that’s not putting up then I don’t know what is.”

✧*ﾟ 

Oliver peeked up at her through his fingers, “So you just… weren’t listening.” He repeated in disbelief. “Better than you hating it, I suppose.” 

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to get it to stop bouncing. It did nothing to help; his foot continued to bounce like a rabbit hopped up on caffeine. 

“What’s got you so distracted, then?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern. 

-

zina probably could have managed to feel a bit worse for zoning out, maybe she should have, but she didn’t. she’d stopped apologizing for her attention span a long time ago. who could spare the time for it? “did not hear a single lick. I was completely distracted.”

“you’re competent with a riff. just ask me to listen later. when I’m more in a listening mood or I have something in my hands.” it was easier to listen then, when her mind was focused on something else. “mmm. just some thoughts. my mother wrote me a letter which is strange... I sort of assumed she did not know where I was.”

♞ —–

 “Oh, I do, huh? Well shit, in that case I better take your songs out of the mix. Can’t have your band associated with my shit taste, right?” When he finally swiveled around and scooched a little closer on his chair, machine in hand. “Hey, if you want to leave this is the last chance. Make sure to wash my stencil off before you’re out the door though.” 

-

“has anyone ever bothered to tell you that sometimes talking to you is like pulling actual fucking teeth, I swear.” zina rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother moving off the table. she only had so much sit still ability and probably a third of it had already been spent on that stencil.

where: the Hedley townhouse

who: Oliver and Zina ( @zinazaps​ )

The tune faded out, coming to its end. Oliver lowered his guitar and glanced over at Zina, eyebrows lifted expectantly. 

“Well? What do you think?”

He felt uncharacteristically nervous about whatever feedback she might have. He’d played her the beginnings of a new song he’d been working on - the first song he’d really written on his own in years - one he hadn’t played for anyone else yet. 

It was about falling in love with someone. Something he’d never really felt, not before Logan. The song was painfully raw, the result of him pouring his entire heart into it.

So, yes. He was, naturally, more than a little nervous about it.

Oliver groaned when he got no response, running his hands over his face.

“You hate it.” He mumbled into his palms.

so admittedly, zina was distracted. she had been completely lost in her own thoughts the entire day. if asked whether it currently was day or night, the only answer received would be non-committal and vague at best. she couldn’t seem to help it. it was a different kind of dazed than when she got a shock, but it was still just like she couldn’t quite focus enough to hear.

“uh. no. no, no, no. I don’t hate it.” she argued. “do not put words in my mouth, ai? I just didn’t hear it." her face morphed into a slight grimace. a complete ‘whoopsie’ look of guilt. it’s not like she could help it. she was trying to listen. it just didn’t happen this time. “I just wasn’t listening. it was probably a song, though.”

★ –

“well fuck, i’d hate to hear what shit you spew about my music when my back is turned.” lo was leaning against one of the many arcade machines in the joint, looking incredibly unimpressed. he couldn’t hold the expression for long though, and soon it was replaced with a wide, cheeky smile. “how ya doin’, zina? long time no see. not with the whole knockin’ my head and nearly dyin’ thing.”

-

“the same that I say to your face except to the others, I say ‘no offense if you like him’.” zina delivered the words with the same dry amusement that denoted her usual even tone. “I want you to be offended you folksy bastard.” a smile caught her. “been writing some songs, playing some bass, spending too much time in an arcade, not dying and the like. standard stuff really. how’s the head?”

♞ —–

Why someone as antisocial as Markus chose a profession were fifty percent of his job was dealing with customers would forever remain a mystery. It was also a question he asked himself just about daily. Especially in situations like these. “ Well, tough luck. My shop, my music. ” He glanced at her over his shoulder as he prepped his station, apparently dead set on getting a reputation for just the most awful bedside manner. “ If you got an issue with that, you are welcome to piss off still. Good luck with trying to find a better tattoo artist though. ” 

-

“and like I said, it’s barely music. I would know. you’ve got shit tastes.” zina said with an airy, dry amusement. like any good rockstar, she did have several tattoos littering her body. poppies, roses, love potions, and witches mostly. there was the hex girl’s matching one, and the most recent graced her cheek. a little lightning bolt that flickered when she smiled. “I can always ask dex again. he’s usually more than happy to help.”

BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE. REPOST OR REBLOG FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST

zina, the electric eel—

EMBER!

º ✧ 。

“’brigada.” her eyes wandered over the paper, not bothering to be discreet about it, but it was hard to judge notes when looking at them sideways. “fresh eyes, let me see. what’s it about?”

-

zina passed the chicken scratch paper over to thalia without bothering to hesitate or give a second thought to it. anything she was writing would eventually end up with the rest of the band no matter what. “ai, who know, right? that’s the problem. I have no idea what I’m writing.”