Apologies for the length. Maybe a bit too rambly??
Lucia caught glimpse of the twitch. It amused her, but only for a second. She stored the knowledge that what she had done had annoyed the stranger greatly. It could be of use in the future. Watching the twitch fade was like watching ice melt, it was boring. Luckily, it didn’t take as long as it could have, and Lucia was grateful. There wasn’t much else to look at around here, and being as drunk as she was, she often stared numbly at things anyway. It just so happened to be Axelle that her eyes were glued to.
Perking her ears, Lucia winced as Axelle spoke. She hadn’t expected it. She was lost in the alcohol, probably watching some dancing ferret in her mind. Returning back to the conversation, the dark female nodded slowly. She didn’t much care if the stranger made her own alcohol or not, she just liked to drink it. Lucia had little idea how to make it, and perhaps that was the problem. She was jealous. “Oh right,” she said plainly, trying to hide her envious tone. “That could be an interesting trade to use around here, could it not?” Of course it could. All the drunks, like her, they would love to have alcohol at their beck and call. Axelle would profit too. Items, respect, whatever she wanted. Addicts would do almost anything for their fix.
Topic changed, and so did Lucia’s body language. She felt her muscles tense and quiver in excitement. She always did enjoy listening to the stories of how others got hurt. It tickled her, made her chuckle on the inside. Not so much because of the fact she was a nasty piece of work, but because she too was damaged. This was her way of dealing with it. She would revel in the suffering of those around her. She would pretend she was all taped and glued back together.
Axelle disagreed with Lucia’s observation. It was a shame really, Lucia always like those gory details about broken families. Hers, in fact, was very broken. Her mother was dead, having been beaten, raped and burned alive. Her father, well… he was the one who had done the deed. But he too now was dead. Lucia had made sure of that. She had tracked him down, befriended him, tortured him and burned him alive for extra measure. It haunted her every day. Not because of the guilt, but because of the dancing of the flames, the stench of flesh and fur burning into the night, the beautiful melody of dying screams. It was all quite wonderful.
Either way, Lucia waited for the rest of the story before butting in with her own gruesome background. Axelle seemed uncomfortable, that was a good sign in her eyes. It meant something horrible was about to be told. Lucia’s ears perked forward, and the dark female took a long swig out of her bottle in anticipation. Listening carefully, Lucia lapped up each word with a macabre sense of joy. It was like adrenaline straight to her heart. It made her feel better. It made her feel normal.
Nodding attentively, Lucia had to consider her reply carefully. This could go two ways, she could either give a harsh answer that could result in a drunken fight which she would probably lose, or she could give a polite, semi-nice response, keeping things calmer, and continuing the poisoning of their livers. Lucia decided that the latter was best for now. She was quite enjoying the company. Mostly for the healing value of her soul, but that was better than nothing.
“That’s pretty messed up.” A simple, yet effective reply. It was the truth, and nothing more. Eyeing up Axelle’s scar, Lucia brought a slender digit to her own face. Fingering the scar over her left eye, she smiled to herself. The memories were glorious. Taking another sip, Lucia gave a small, unusually feminine burp. There was no politeness to follow however. She saw little point in apologising for her natural bodily functions. “Well…” Lucia finally spoke again, the pause between her words long, dragged out by the slurring tone in her voice. “Mother was beaten, raped and burned alive by my father. She didn’t make it, obviously.” Another pause, another swig, Lucia was dying for a cigarette.
Fiddling with the leather pouch on her belt, Lucia continued to speak, though eyes now diverted to what she was doing. “My father…” She pulled a cigarette from the pouch, followed shortly by a lighter. Placing the butt in her mouth, she lit it slowly. Her hand shook slightly, but it wasn’t too much of a chore. Inhaling the smoke, she spoke again. Each word puffed out smoke from her mouth and nostrils as though she were a dragon, her voice muffled by the cancerous stick jammed between her lips. “He’s dead. I murdered him… tortured him… burned him alive. Just a little bit of revenge, you know?” She addressed Axelle as though she would know what she was on about; as though it was normal to kill family, like a hobby.
She took another drag on the cigarette, casually blowing the smoke into little circles in the air. Lucia had a strange way of coping with things. This was just another one of those times. She looked back at her female companion, pondered what could be going on in her mind, what she thought of Lucia right now. Truth be told, she didn’t really care, but it gave her mind something to exercise itself on. It was something to fill the void. “As for the more recent pain in my ass,” she added loosely, not particularly wanting to mention his name. It made her heart ache and her stomach knot. “Snake…” It was hissed, like poison on her tongue. There was anger in her voice. “The stupid coyote bastard made me fall in love with him, used me for sex, made me join his pack even though they hate wolves, and then leaves me behind without a word! Who does that?” She sighed, taking an extremely long drag on her cigarette and trying to calm herself down. Being angry was one thing, but drunk and angry… that would not end well. “Well, either way, I learned from that, I can tell you! Never again… Stupid, stupid men… They use you, abuse you, and then disappear into the sunset like its all happy endings and cheery goodbyes! Bastards, the lot of them! Wouldn’t you agree?”