Late night girl talk

[vivat_regina]

[February 6th, late night]

Regina is Mystique's newest-neighbour-but-one, and somehow more irritating than Pullo. Mystique feels the need to be... well, 'neighbourly' isn't quite the word...

[ HERE | Contains self-pity and wake-up calls ]

(no subject)

[ithinkiwasbornforthis]

There's blood in her mouth, young and virile, hot and sweet. Pam is loathe to release the Panther and at another time she might have savored the moment, but the pain lends her feeding an urgency that she cannot ignore.

She has no idea how long it's been, but eventually her prey starts to struggle.

"Pam..." croaks Jason.

Pam focuses on him, and not knowing him for a moment, she drinks deeper. He lets out a faint cry before it registers that this is Sookie's brother. After a heartbeat, she lets go with a great effort that leaves her gasping and Jason tumbles away from her.

"Eric..." she breathes hard.

"He's fine, fine. Sookie's with him."

Pam flips onto her stomach and grinds her teeth together, letting out an animal sound as her crushed ribs light up like fire.

"Go," she growls and as Jason staggers down the hallway, Pam tries to follow, inch by inch, dragging her dead and broken arm and leg. The hall swims in her vision and the sensation of being pulled backward as her sight recedes is all she can regisiter before all goes dark.

---

Pam wakes again laying flat on her back. She does not open her eyes immediately, but she is instantly alert. This is not her nest, nor Eric's, nor any of the emergency hideaways in and around Fangtasia. It feels wrong. Smells wrong. There's nothing right about it.

She tries to think, and it comes flooding back. Alexei! How stupid she had been! And such trouble over fucking Bobby Burnham. She should have let Alexei eat him and save them all the trouble. No, she had been cocky, cornered the brat prince, and he had fucked her up thoroughly. She can still feel it now, worn out, bruised maybe, still healing.

Eric!. She thinks suddenly, feels it with all her being, but what she cannot feel terrifies her as she has not been terrified since she was human. He's gone.

Pam sits up in a blur, throwing away all of her caution in one movement, and she's on her feet, taking everything in at a glance. Only two things immediately interest her, the door, and the man in the room, and only one of those things talked.

Torch song

[salsacaliente]

So there were auditoriums on floor two. Plural. Auditoria? Whatever.

Santana had found them a few days ago now, on her first big exploration, and had been itching to try them out ever since. Today, she'd decided there was really nothing holding her back, and she'd made her way up there, picked a space, and investigated. The sound was easy enough to hook up, the usual media available which was to say backing tracks to everything she could possibly have wanted to sing ever, and, hell, mics and lights because why not, right?

Having gone to the trouble to set up some dim, moody stage lighting and hook up a vocal mic (old-fashioned condenser, for the retro), she now felt kinda silly standing in front of it in a tank top and jeans, her feet bare and her hair scraped unceremoniously back from her face as the opening chords of the moody classical guitar intro washed over her. But hey, who was watching?

Now you say you're lonely
You cry the whole night through
Well, you can cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you

Now you say you're sorry
For being so untrue
Well, you can cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you

You drove me
Nearly drove me out of my head
While you never shed a tea
Remember
I remember all that you said
Told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me

And now you say you love me
Well, just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you...

[Come on, it was only going to take so long for her to break into song. Hit me!]