Working her way up. Josie.

[coldinhergrave.livejournal.com]

Nothing touched by darkness stayed the same. Night lay heavily over the world, changing the city into a dangerous place for a beautiful young girl, out walking the streets all alone.

The first night was the hardest because she was almost caught. She'd almost killed the man who propositioned her just because he was so blatant and crude about it. He'd been older, close to thirty, unwashed and covered in muscles. Josie liked her men wiry, and this one was anything but. He'd herded her into an alleyway before she could gather her bearings, and he'd asked her twice for a blow job before she replied.

"Cash first." He looked rather disgruntled, but pulled out a leather wallet from his back pocket and searched through it, eventually pulling out twenty quid. Josie looked at him, disgusted, and growled. A moment later he was little more than a barely breathing heap on the ground. She'd taken all the cash as well as his watch and cellphone.

And just for kicks, she'd tied his shoelaces together in a knot it would take the man ages to figure out. Not her most diabolical scheme ever.

The money from his wallet payed for one night's accommodation at a decent backpackers four or five blocks down from where she'd left him. There was no way she was going to share a room, so she'd used the money she'd set aside for breakfast so buy a single room. She'd figure out nourishment in the morning. Oh, she'd figure out a lot of things in the morning.

But then, that first night, she'd wanted to sleep on her own terms. Here there were no nurses orchestrating a life around her. Sleep now. Eat now. Medicate, now. She was free of that, and although the night was a great temptation she had decided to sleep, and sleep she would.

Sleep claimed her till the next afternoon, when she woke sticking to her sheets. This would not do, no, not at all. She needed the best sheets, and a private shower. And gods, she needed a change of clothes.

So down the narrow staircase she went, after scrubbing herself clean under the mildly warm water in the horrific showers. Josie understood her beauty, and had some idea of how to use it to get what she wanted. It was remarkably easy to lure a man into an alley, with a flick of the hair or a certain smile, promising so much more. She took her time, picking out those that looked like the weight of their wallet was dragging them down from the drunkards who carried little more than spare change. Four hours later the sun was beginning to set, and she was almost five hundred quid the richer. If a handful of men were a little late home, a little more disorientated from the walk to the underground than they usually were, well, it was no skin off her back.

That night she delighted in scalding herself in the shower and crawled into deliciously soft sheets. The next morning, she extended her wardrobe sevenfold.

This was life. Not the life- that would come later- but this was well on the way. There were just a few pesky ghosts from the past she had to get rid of first.

Working her way up. Josie.

[coldinhergrave.livejournal.com]

Nothing touched by darkness stayed the same. Night lay heavily over the world, changing the city into a dangerous place for a beautiful young girl, out walking the streets all alone.

The first night was the hardest because she was almost caught. She'd almost killed the man who propositioned her just because he was so blatant and crude about it. He'd been older, close to thirty, unwashed and covered in muscles. Josie liked her men wiry, and this one was anything but. He'd herded her into an alleyway before she could gather her bearings, and he'd asked her twice for a blow job before she replied.

"Cash first." He looked rather disgruntled, but pulled out a leather wallet from his back pocket and searched through it, eventually pulling out twenty quid. Josie looked at him, disgusted, and growled. A moment later he was little more than a barely breathing heap on the ground. She'd taken all the cash as well as his watch and cellphone.

And just for kicks, she'd tied his shoelaces together in a knot it would take the man ages to figure out. Not her most diabolical scheme ever.

The money from his wallet payed for one night's accommodation at a decent backpackers four or five blocks down from where she'd left him. There was no way she was going to share a room, so she'd used the money she'd set aside for breakfast so buy a single room. She'd figure out nourishment in the morning. Oh, she'd figure out a lot of things in the morning.

But then, that first night, she'd wanted to sleep on her own terms. Here there were no nurses orchestrating a life around her. Sleep now. Eat now. Medicate, now. She was free of that, and although the night was a great temptation she had decided to sleep, and sleep she would.

Sleep claimed her till the next afternoon, when she woke sticking to her sheets. This would not do, no, not at all. She needed the best sheets, and a private shower. And gods, she needed a change of clothes.

So down the narrow staircase she went, after scrubbing herself clean under the mildly warm water in the horrific showers. Josie understood her beauty, and had some idea of how to use it to get what she wanted. It was remarkably easy to lure a man into an alley, with a flick of the hair or a certain smile, promising so much more. She took her time, picking out those that looked like the weight of their wallet was dragging them down from the drunkards who carried little more than spare change. Four hours later the sun was beginning to set, and she was almost five hundred quid the richer. If a handful of men were a little late home, a little more disorientated from the walk to the underground than they usually were, well, it was no skin off her back.

That night she delighted in scalding herself in the shower and crawled into deliciously soft sheets. The next morning, she extended her wardrobe sevenfold.

This was life. Not the life- that would come later- but this was well on the way. There were just a few pesky ghosts from the past she had to get rid of first.

Sunday Bloody Sunday. Josie. R

[coldinhergrave.livejournal.com]

His name was Bernard Terence Trust, age fifty two, balding and built like a wild boar. For twenty six years Alfred High had been his second home, his workplace, his dominion. Its burning had hit him hard, but he'd spent long hours working into the night trying to secure another premises. The building was little more than a skeleton, black bones rising from the scotched earth where classrooms full of children used to be.

( Burn )

Sunday Bloody Sunday. Josie. R

[coldinhergrave.livejournal.com]

His name was Bernard Terence Trust, age fifty two, balding and built like a wild boar. For twenty six years Alfred High had been his second home, his workplace, his dominion. Its burning had hit him hard, but he'd spent long hours working into the night trying to secure another premises. The building was little more than a skeleton, black bones rising from the scotched earth where classrooms full of children used to be.

( Burn )

Sunday morning. Lee and Jinx. PG

[lee-rivers.livejournal.com]

Lee woke up twisted and sweaty sheets, his legs arm and leg completely hanging off the bed. It was bright outside, he'd slept last and half the morning was already gone. He'd dreamed of fire again, but it was the same as last time; nothing specific, nothing more than the image of flames and thick, black smoke. They weren't horrific, but they weren't all that pleasant either.

Lee made a note of it in his journal and put it out of him mind, turning his thoughts to the day ahead. He'd never woken up in an empty house before and the silence was slightly unnerving. Like there were a couple of devilish siblings waiting out in the hall to ambush him. The fact that there was actually no other soul in the house really drove him the fact that he was in another life now. He went downstairs and turned on the stereo, then took a shower as Jim Morrison's voice felled the empty walls.

After his shower, he ran up the stairs, singing and naked just because he could. Hey, he could spent the entire day naked if he wanted to, but... no. He wanted fried eggs and bacon for breakfast and frying naked was a bad idea. A few minutes later he was still bouncing round, singing loudly, but clothed and with breakfast well on the way. There was a knock on the door and he turned down the oven to go and answer it (maybe his fire dream hadn't been completely banished from his thoughts) taking his spatula-microphone with him.

"Good morning!" He opened the door to the dark haired boy standing on the doorstep.
( Jinx )

Sunday morning. Lee and Jinx. PG

[lee-rivers.livejournal.com]

Lee woke up twisted and sweaty sheets, his legs arm and leg completely hanging off the bed. It was bright outside, he'd slept last and half the morning was already gone. He'd dreamed of fire again, but it was the same as last time; nothing specific, nothing more than the image of flames and thick, black smoke. They weren't horrific, but they weren't all that pleasant either.

Lee made a note of it in his journal and put it out of him mind, turning his thoughts to the day ahead. He'd never woken up in an empty house before and the silence was slightly unnerving. Like there were a couple of devilish siblings waiting out in the hall to ambush him. The fact that there was actually no other soul in the house really drove him the fact that he was in another life now. He went downstairs and turned on the stereo, then took a shower as Jim Morrison's voice felled the empty walls.

After his shower, he ran up the stairs, singing and naked just because he could. Hey, he could spent the entire day naked if he wanted to, but... no. He wanted fried eggs and bacon for breakfast and frying naked was a bad idea. A few minutes later he was still bouncing round, singing loudly, but clothed and with breakfast well on the way. There was a knock on the door and he turned down the oven to go and answer it (maybe his fire dream hadn't been completely banished from his thoughts) taking his spatula-microphone with him.

"Good morning!" He opened the door to the dark haired boy standing on the doorstep.
( Jinx )

Buses - Lee/Gracelin - G

[promisememaybes.livejournal.com]

It was times like these that Gracelin really wished she owned a mobile phone. She had just come from a rehearsal and was already late in getting to her teacher's house to practise on his piano. He wasn't tutoring her, but she had earned those hours of the week in which she was allowed to use his piano to practice. She had earned them and, dammit, she hated losing some of that time to slow buses.

The street was busy, even though it was early Sunday afternoon. And when it happened, Gracelin didn't quite realise what was going on. There was the loud crunching sound and she- and others- were thrown out of their seats. Gracelin's head smacked against a upright bar next to her and then momentum threw her back into the seat again and against the window.

Then there were people panicing and the bus driver out of his seat and moving. Gracelin, feeling groggy, looked out the window and saw the other bus that had collided with them in the middle of an intersection. A thin trail of blood dribbled into her eye and she brushed it away with the back of her hand, her white shirt sleeve staining dark red.

( more )

Buses - Lee/Gracelin - G

[promisememaybes.livejournal.com]

It was times like these that Gracelin really wished she owned a mobile phone. She had just come from a rehearsal and was already late in getting to her teacher's house to practise on his piano. He wasn't tutoring her, but she had earned those hours of the week in which she was allowed to use his piano to practice. She had earned them and, dammit, she hated losing some of that time to slow buses.

The street was busy, even though it was early Sunday afternoon. And when it happened, Gracelin didn't quite realise what was going on. There was the loud crunching sound and she- and others- were thrown out of their seats. Gracelin's head smacked against a upright bar next to her and then momentum threw her back into the seat again and against the window.

Then there were people panicing and the bus driver out of his seat and moving. Gracelin, feeling groggy, looked out the window and saw the other bus that had collided with them in the middle of an intersection. A thin trail of blood dribbled into her eye and she brushed it away with the back of her hand, her white shirt sleeve staining dark red.

( more )