M. Gamble my life away

Lucia Cabriel · 08-11-2011, 06:20 PM

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Sorry for the wait hun!

There had been the faint whisper of smoke on the wind. Despite the lit cigarette that fitted neatly between the dark female’s fingertips, it wasn’t the same. It was burning wood. Glancing across the horizon, Lucia could make out a sliver of silver in the darkening sky, though the source remained masked by the desolate buildings and strangling vines. Her emerald eyes watched it for a while, as it danced in and out of the clouds, pondering who or what needed the heat so bad. It wasn’t exactly a cold night, nor had it been for a while, yet from experience the dark female knew, not everything was as it seemed.

Turning her attention back to empty thoughts and shallow memories, she allowed herself another puff of the cigarette. The tip glowed, casting a strange orange aura over her scarred facade. It was momentary bliss for the demented woman. It was the one thing she could control, and yet, in some ways, it was another thing she couldn’t. Part of her needed the nicotine, addicted to the pleasure it provided, but her ignorance served well. She pretended it was simply her choice. She needed control over something. She needed simplicity, even if, in reality, it was faked.

Seconds folded into minutes, silence the only friend to the dark female. Minus the movement of her hand to her mouth to taste the poisonous fumes of her cigarette, she remained motionless. Her back dug achingly into the bark of the tree, but it failed to move her. Lucia revelled in the dull pain, enjoyed the punishments she could unintentionally deliver herself. Maybe in some remote part of her brain it was all intentional, but for the most part, she decided it wasn’t. It was easier that way – easier to explain if anyone saw. She couldn’t be bothered with all the hassle, all the commotion. Everything annoyed her, and now it seemed, another was about to do the same.

Ears perked, thoughts slamming to a halt, and her malachite coals glared outward. She could hear the sharp scrape of metal against concrete. Lucia’s lip curled angrily. It wasn’t only that she was being disturbed yet again, but it was that sound. It grated against her skull, tore at her eardrums. Where the hell was it coming from?

Glancing around, she could see no one, not at first anyway. It wasn’t until their eyes locked, green on blue, that she could see the outline of a grey-black male. Snarling quietly under her breath, cigarette now tightly pursed between her lips, his voice drifted into her mind. It was growled, slightly deep in tone. There was something uncertain about him, something unpredictable. It didn’t help that he carried a bat with nails though, that was for sure. Studying him quietly, Lucia found amusement in his words. There weren’t many things that could shake her when it came to danger. He didn’t know the half of it.

Smirking back at him, smoke slipped over her pearly canines as she spoke. “I’ll think you find I’m no lady…” Her tone was harsh, almost a subliminal warning within them. He made her feel uneasy, threatened. So much so that the hackles on the back of her neck had risen, and subconsciously, her spare hand now grasped the handle of one of the daggers she kept around her waist.

“What do you want then, huh?” She allowed her eyes to sliver coldly over him, trying to read his body language, trying to work him out. Her mind said otherwise. Her mind seemed to like him. But attractive or not, he was trouble. “It’s obvious you’re not just here for small talk and a staring contest...” Lucia bit her lip. That was slightly more spiteful than she intended. Why did she always do this? Why did she always encourage danger? Perhaps it was her self-destructive nature, or maybe just the sickness that plagued her mind. She was somewhat of a masochist it seemed, and now so more than ever.

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