christina mckinney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
arealwoman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-03-06 10:14 pm
arealwoman) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-03-06 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
one more night
Who: Christina + open | come drinking
When: March 6 | early evening → late
Where: A bar
Summary: Christina doesn't like the Port, the Core or much of anything. Getting drunk is her answer
Warnings: Swearing
She'd arrived. She'd been given information. She'd been shown the apartments. And she'd cried. That had been Christina's first day in Siren's Port, the stupid little place in Canada that took you from life and brought you to... this. Looking out of her apartment window that first night had told Christina why she should adhere to the advice not to going out and for that night she'd stayed in, barely sleeping until she'd cried so much that she slept. And even then it was badly.
The next morning hadn't been any easier than her first arrival. She'd been tired, irritable and everything that she'd first felt had returned when Christina had realised that it hadn't been some terrible dream- no, a nightmare.
She'd left early, dressed in what she'd arrived in (she had nothing else) and had gone into the city. She wasn't looking for anything, or really she didn't know what to look for or even what to do, she just needed to be out.
It was getting dark by the time Christina stopped, her feet aching a little from all that she'd walked (even though she hadn't really gone far). The siren hadn't yet sounded but she didn't want to be out any more - she didn't want to be here. The bar had seemed a little perfect and she hoped that someone would be pitying enough to buy a newcomer a drink or two. Or ten. As she stepped in she gave it a quick look around first before settling on the bar, taking one of the remaining stools. It was still rather early but apparently that meant little to those that were filling the seats.
When: March 6 | early evening → late
Where: A bar
Summary: Christina doesn't like the Port, the Core or much of anything. Getting drunk is her answer
Warnings: Swearing
She'd arrived. She'd been given information. She'd been shown the apartments. And she'd cried. That had been Christina's first day in Siren's Port, the stupid little place in Canada that took you from life and brought you to... this. Looking out of her apartment window that first night had told Christina why she should adhere to the advice not to going out and for that night she'd stayed in, barely sleeping until she'd cried so much that she slept. And even then it was badly.
The next morning hadn't been any easier than her first arrival. She'd been tired, irritable and everything that she'd first felt had returned when Christina had realised that it hadn't been some terrible dream- no, a nightmare.
She'd left early, dressed in what she'd arrived in (she had nothing else) and had gone into the city. She wasn't looking for anything, or really she didn't know what to look for or even what to do, she just needed to be out.
It was getting dark by the time Christina stopped, her feet aching a little from all that she'd walked (even though she hadn't really gone far). The siren hadn't yet sounded but she didn't want to be out any more - she didn't want to be here. The bar had seemed a little perfect and she hoped that someone would be pitying enough to buy a newcomer a drink or two. Or ten. As she stepped in she gave it a quick look around first before settling on the bar, taking one of the remaining stools. It was still rather early but apparently that meant little to those that were filling the seats.
sometime in the late evening
He hadn't cared one bit for anyone else in the bar- they were nobodies, regular jack-offs, idiots who didn't know the first thing about being in a brutal heavy metal band. The drunker he got, though, the more 'social' he became; in that, really, he was just lonely and needed to talk to somebody, anybody, no matter who.
The first person he saw was a pretty blonde. He chuckled to himself, then leaned over to her, slurring with his lisp.
"You come here of'en?"
no subject
Christina had taken her shot, indicating to have it refilled although she hadn't managed to take that one before she was approached. She didn't have an interest in talking, particularly not to someone that was here and (as she presumed) comfortable. Even if they weren't? Well she wasn't that good company, but she also wasn't that rude.
"Never been here before." She took the shot, giving a nod to have it refilled. She knew that if she wanted to last for longer (which she possibly didn't) she would need to drink something else but... she wasn't thinking.
no subject
Now was the time to put on the charm. He leaned forward even more to brush at her hair. It never worked for him - ever - but there was always a first time for everything.
And maybe she was too drunk to care.
no subject
When Christina saw his hand come towards her she turned her head to see what he was doing, leaning back at the touch.
"What are you doing?" Oh she definitely wasn't drunk enough for this (not that that would have gotten him anywhere either).
no subject
Rejected. Again. Murderface doesn't like it.
no subject
She took her drink when it came, drinking the shot before picking up her pint glass, waiting a moment before drinking it.
"And what would catch you off-guard?" She'd heard the story of monsters, and head heard noises but...
no subject
"Especially here." That pained look in his eyes should have a hint of omniscience to it. He knows, Christina. He knows.
no subject
"Not enough people seem worried about that." Not here. She'd been told about 'monsters' and told to stay inside but for some reason people were... well, more calm than she was about it.