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Post by suri blanc on Feb 14, 2010 23:28:17 GMT -5
THE PLACE WAS PACKED as it rightfully should be, but sadly enough, for once, Suri had not gone to the burlesque to dance the night away as she normally did. No, instead she just wanted to get drunk and as fucked up as possible so she would wake up tomorrow morning and not remember a thing. It was why she was not dressed up to par with her grunge-looking clothing. She wore loose fitted 'boyfriend' jeans (actually, they were her boyfriend's...she just stole them because she had the right , as his girlfriend, to do so), a sheer long sleeved top that clung to her thin frame and was a deep onyx color, some beige leg warmers (but they were under her jeans, visible only because she had the bottom cuffs folded up a bit), her black pumps with said leg warmers slightly hanging off them, and then her matching worn out beige leather jacket. She looked more like she belonged on a runway with all the designer clothing she had on, smoking cheap cigarettes, and with her dark locks falling in that bed messy way they always did around her attractive face. She didn't feel like putting in contacts today so on went her large, black framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, making her bright eyes stand out along with the splash of lightly applied mascara. She had deep maroon colored lipstick on to bring out her lips and add a nice touch of color to her entire ensemble. The nineteen year old was, honestly, one female who really looked like she belonged in the fashion industry and that was exactly what she wanted: become a designer or even a model despite hating most models and their stuck up ways. Instead, she was stuck as a journalist. Boring.
SO THERE THE VERY tall female was, sucking on her cigarette on the top floor balcony looking out at the entire view of Paris from the red windmill. She was all alone, the music from below muffled, and she didn't look depressed so to speak. Just very lonely. Despite having a boyfriend, she was horrible with commitment. Did she love him? No. She knew damn well she didn't, but she did feel that attachment and it was what kept bringing her back to him, crawling into bed to snuggle up next to him at five in the morning. She cheated on him, constantly, and he must have known, right? Not like it mattered. She had warned him and he hadn't taken her warning seriously because he still insisted on being with her as if he could somehow change her ways...It wouldn't happen. She liked being the alcoholic, drug addicted, party craving, ambitious gal she was now. Why change such a good thing? He got to fuck her every now and again and she was able to go be herself elsewhere...with other people. Everyone got what they wanted, right?
BLOWING THE SMOKE OUT and into the chilled night air, she dumped some of the ashes out, looking down at some drunk people in the street leaving the club, some coming in. It was only one in the morning and the club wouldn't close until four thirty. She knew what time every club in the city closed and she was damn proud of that fact. She was also always considered a V.I.P at each. It was hat happened when your father was the prime minister of France. Everyone loved you and were too afraid to deny you. Running her tongue over her pearly white teeth, she took another drag before she heard the door open and the sound of footsteps. No one was suppose to come up here...Or at least they usually didn't, "Fuck off. The place is taken," her French accent was mixed in with her Brazilian accent and it made for one that sounded seductive and smooth yet with the way she said her words; harsh and with an added edge. She didn't bother glancing over her thin shoulder to see who it was, instead slipping off her jacket and letting it fall onto the chair next to her. Whoever it was needed to leave. Couldn't they see she just wanted to be left the fuck alone with her packet of cigarettes, the bottle of Strawberry Kiwi Bacardi on the floor next to her, and the wonderfully lonely city of Paris? It was all she ever wanted, truly, and this fucker just wanted to ruin it for her.
TAGGED: OPENED
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Post by Ellis Pegg on Feb 16, 2010 23:41:49 GMT -5
they say alcohol is a man’s worst enemy
but the bible says to love your enemy.
~ Frank Sinatra
[/i] A pair of lithe fingers reached forward, plucking her nicotine from between her lips with a noise of complaint. Ellis raised an eyebrow, watching her personal favorite of the night, Jollee, take a drag of her Camel. ”Haven’t you ever heard it’s dangerous to take a woman’s cigarette?”“What makes you think I’d try to avoid danger?” Jollee replied, looking up through her lashes at Ellis. This caused Ellis’s smirk to peel back into a lopsided grin wide across her face. Oh yeah, definitely her favorite tonight.[/size] —Later
Ellis held the camera in her hands, laying below her gaze as she watched it for a moment. Running a tongue over her lips, she felt a pair of arms slither around her waist and Ellis looked over her shoulder to peer at Jollee. As it turned out, Jollee was indeed her favorite model from tonight- a photo shoot in a private room in the Moulin Rogue –and it left everyone giggly with alcohol and multiple other drugs, but it left Ellis annoyed with Jollee by the end. However, she didn’t stiffen, or push her away; in fact, she didn’t react at all as the model’s chin rested against her back, her shoulder blades rolling under her skin just below the model’s body. Antonio, her camera and love of her life, quietly nestled in it’s bed and with a small pat Ellis tucked it away in a locker in the room they’d gotten for the photo shoot.
”Listen babe,” Ellis said, her voice a low tone, soft and not raising above a normal volume even with the thumping bass in the background, “why don’t you grab yourself and me a drink. I’ll have a rum and coke.” Pulling out a few bills she slipped them into Jollee’s hands and watched her bounce away.
A sigh of relief pushed past her lips, and with a hasty look in either direction she quickly slipped away in the opposite direction. Following one sign to the other, she found herself climbing steps after buying her own drink, which was a rum and coke, actually, and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it just before opening the door out to the supposed balcony.
"Fuck off. The place is taken."
Pausing, though not retreating, Ellis blinked and watched the woman already occupying the balcony shed her jacket. The corner of her lips twitched upward, and then curled, into an amused smile and taking a few drags she finally replied, “For someone at a club you seem a little too antisocial to be anything but social.” After another pause, and another drag, she stepped forward and into the main part of the balcony. Eyeing the woman Ellis gave a small shrug and proceeded over to the railing of the balcony, leaning her arms against it and looking out over the scenery. The shrug? It’s not that she wasn’t impressed; it’s just that there are more impressive things to someone that sees beautiful people every day than just appearances – though, ironically enough it also made her more judgmental.
“People that are automatically defensive at a place like this usually are just more picky about who they spend their time with, or they just want to be convinced the other person is worth their time,” Ellis started, not looking over at the other woman as she spoke across the landscape, “So which is it for you, Ms. …?”
Ellis’s blue, gray hues slid to the corner of her eye socket, finally looking the other straight in the face and she watched and waited. She’d wait until she got an answer, and there was no stopping that.[/blockquote][/ul] Outfit – Click it, yo.
Notes – Sorry it’s kinda rambling, the next post will be better. c: |
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Post by suri blanc on Feb 17, 2010 0:16:57 GMT -5
SURI MADE NO REAL sudden movements as she sucked on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out through her full lips, "Being social is over rated," she stated bluntly, looking out at the view completely unamused. She was a bit emotionless at the moment, still not bothering to look over at, what she now knew, the woman, "Suri," she finished her sentence for her with ease as she took another drag, contemplating an answer to her question. Not like Suri had any problem with being rude, but hey, this chick looked like she wasn't going anywhere and since Suri, as childish as this sounded, was there first, she didn't plan on just giving up the balcony until she got that annoying text from Izzy asking where she was and when she was going to come home, "Both," a simple answer and a truthful one. She was honest, to everyone including her boyfriend surprisingly, but she was honest when asked questions or in a conversation. If her boyfriend asked where she was, she would tell him. What was she doing? Leaving some random person's apartment. She didn't answer the phone, purposely, during sex.
FINALLY, SURI GLANCED OVER at the female, shamelessly looking her up and down before looking away, her facial expression not changing at all. She wasn't impressed-yet. Looks could be deceiving after all, "I'm picky because most people aren't entertaining enough and thus don't become worth my time and effort," blunt, again, as she flicked the ashes into the night, wrist limp on the railing, "Let's see if you prove to be worthy, Intruder," yes, she would call her an intruder because this was her alone time. She didn't get much time alone, not with her older sister constantly clinging to her one leg and her boyfriend humping the other while her boss molested her mind, competition mauled her mouth, and strangers plowed her vagina. She had no shame in insulting people, though she found everything she had replied wasn't insulting at all. This intruder was intruding even if said intruder did not see that-Suri did and to her that was all that mattered in the end.
RUNNING HER FINGERS THROUGH he long dark hair, she moved it so it wouldn't fall in front of her black framed glasses. She probably looked a bit nerdy and, well, Suri was. She wasn't stuck up, just as realistic as she possibly could be at the ripe age of nineteen. This was the fashion industry and obviously, if you weren't perfect even behind the scenes you were shit on the bottom of someone's Michael Kors' Fuck Me Pumps. Not even Marc Jacobs would sign you if you looked like shit and he signed tons of ugly people like Victoria Beckham. What the fuck? She looked like a diseased chipmunk and Madonna? She put British people to shame and Suri wasn't even remotely British. Her accent gave that much away, "So who was humping your leg that made you come up here and bother me?" she asked, bringing the cigarette to her lips once more while waiting on a reply. People usually only came up here to escape and if they came alone they were escaping from someone. The gal wasn't ugly-she was attractive in the physical sense, so someone must have been trying to stick their dick-or vagina- in her and she came running here like a dog with its tail between it's legs. It was always fun to be chased but after a while, it just got boring and lately all the constant fucking was getting boring. Men were boring her. Women were boring her. What other genders were there that didn't look creepy that she could fuck to get her mind off of life and Izzy at home always waiting to kiss the ground she walked on? She hated that kind of praise...it freaked her out-but he didn't get it. No one could ever understand Suri Blanc-especially when she was still a work in progress.
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Post by Ellis Pegg on Feb 17, 2010 0:58:49 GMT -5
[/color] Ellis finally said, speaking what she’d thought moments ago, “I won’t be trying to impress you tonight.” See, here’s the thing about Ellis and insulting, or for that matter, dropping hints. She’d notice them, she’d notice them the moment they happened, but it didn’t mean she’d act on it. Elle didn’t care enough; not enough to leave, not enough to try and make her think otherwise of her, and not enough to get offended by any insult. She’d simply smirk and brush it off, continuing to do as she pleased. Perhaps that’s why she tended to either clash or get a long so smashingly with people like Suri – neither of them cared all that much about what people thought, or at least, not when in the aspects everyone else deemed as important. "So who was humping your leg that made you come up here and bother me?"Again, Ellis paused, weighing her options and just how much she really wanted to tell this other person escaping to the balcony. The accented female was interesting enough, but that didn’t mean she wanted to tell her anything about herself. Who knew just how shady this gal would be, and Ellis liked to avoid all forms of complications in her life. In nearly every and any aspect. After a few moments of silence, she finally shrugged and turned away, looking back out toward the cityscape. “Her name’s Jollee Rowette, and if I’m lucky she’ll be too drunk to find the way to the stairs.”Closing her eyes, she found her mind reverting back into photographer mode. Hm, Suri – the glasses, while it might make some eyes seem less beautiful only seemed to inhance her own, and slowly angles began to produce in her mind, lighting, and – “Jesus Christ, I need to stop working so much, Ellis muttered, lighting up another cigarette swiftly, as a chain-smoker should, “You know you’d look great under a wide-angle and some long shadows. ‘Specially with those frames you’ve got.” Shaking her head, she took a drag, and shrugged again, “So, what’s your thing? What do you do?”[/blockquote][/ul][/size] |
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Post by suri blanc on Feb 17, 2010 22:16:56 GMT -5
WAS IT STRANGE SURI was automatically impressed by her reply? She liked that...Intruder wasn't going to try and impress her. It managed to pull a sly smile onto her face as she managed to get to the filter of her cheap cigarette and tossed it over, automatically lighting up a new one and then bringing the bottle up to her lips, taking a long gulp and letting it roll across the back of her throat with ease; the ease of someone long used to the burn of alcohol and enjoying it like any other alcoholic or drug addict, "Already have," she ran her tongue over her pearly whites behind her lips, keeping her eyes out on the view.
"YOU AND ME BOTH," she said simply to her comment on the fact that she needed to stop working so much. Despite going partying almost every weekend (at least), if she wasn't working, she was at someone's house having sex or bumming any type of drug from them. Hell, she needed to pop five anti-depressants every morning just so she could function and it wasn't like she was depressed (though her old therapist would probably say otherwise), by her standards. She had just gotten so used to taking them that if she didn't, she would end up just sleeping at her desk and if anyone tried to wake her? You would get a staple stapled to your face or the closest body part to her. The person she mentioned Suri knew. She knew almost every model in the agency because, well, she had to even if she didn't feel it necessary. It would be like a model not knowing the name of her photographer for the day or her manager; stupid and inconsiderate along with disrespectful.
UPON THE NEXT STRING of words that came out of her mouth, Suri seemed to freeze for a few seconds, halfway from bringing the cigarette to her lips again. She was a photographer. She didn't know the photographers as well, only the extreme favorites of her bosses. Her comments hit a few heart strings deep down inside. She hated models...and yet she would much rather be modeling than working on stupid stories she didn't give two shits about. But she never made the model cut...Instead her half sister did and Suri had to force herself not to be absolutely pissed considering her sister didn't even want to go into fashion-she was just being her usual attention whore self, "Journalist for Vogue," she said it as if it left a slight bitter taste in her mouth. It paid extremely well but she would much rather be interning and not getting paid because at least she would be doing something she liked. She wanted to be the editor and chief of Runway Magazine in New York City or Elle Magazine in France or even V Magazine in Milan...Anywhere far away from every one-or she would keep herself busy so they would all fuck off and not bother her with their petty drama anymore, "Photographer, I'm guessing?" she inquired, glancing over at her as she took and drag and then held the bottle out if she wanted some. It was fruity so she would drink more of it and therefore get drunk faster. She didn't want to waste time she wanted to get wasted, "And if Rowette shows up, I'll take care of her. She's an annoying bitch," Suri couldn't help but add that in. She would know-she had to interview models almost on a daily basis because usually they were featured at least once in the magazine and God they could seriously get annoying. Maybe she'd throw her over the balcony and say she was just so inebriated that she fell on her own...But she didn't think that would fly by the Parisian Police...Even if she did pay them off to keep their mouths shut and her name out of the media. She was virtually an unknown name to gossip magazines, unlike her sister's...who had a last name so that was another plus. She liked it that way, though. She didn't want to be known for being a dramatic attention seeking air head. She would much rather be known for ripping someone apart with words or showing off a new design that would set the course for fashion seasons to come...
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Post by Ellis Pegg on Feb 19, 2010 10:22:11 GMT -5
[/i], Ellis found herself thinking, taking a drag, Even if Suri didn’t fit the cookie cutter shape of a model, that was what made her that much better to be under a camera. Then again, Ellis wasn’t your traditional photographer – she’d always been an independent. "Photographer, I'm guessing?"Ellis gave a dry smile and a chuckle, giving a small nod, “I’m that obvious, huh?” A small sigh fell past her lips, and Ellis looked out over the city for a moment before returning her attention to Suri, “Yeah, I’m a photographer – but I’m on contract, not employed by the company. I don’t want to chained to some massive corporation for a certain amount of years, bound to not take pictures for anyone else. Fuck that.” Another drag, and as the bottle was presented to her Ellis’s lips peeled back into a lop-sided grin. A woman after her heart it seems, letting her have some alcohol; peering at the bottle she inspected the alcohol percentage and then shrugged. Grabbing the bottle she tipped it back, the alcohol slipping easily down her throat, and after a few moments she handed it back with a nod of satisfaction and thanks. Suri wasn’t the only one familiar with the frenzied life of partying and drugs – Ellis woke up and took Adderall every morning, and if she didn’t have it you better believe she won’t be leaving her house unless it’s to get more. Ahh, man-made synthetic coke, thank you scientists. In any case, alcohol was no stranger to her, and Bacardi usually tasted pretty smooth. "And if Rowette shows up, I'll take care of her. She's an annoying bitch," For a moment Ellis just stayed silent, watching Suri, but then she tilted her head back and laughed. Returning her attention to the elegant woman she was sharing her night with, Ellis’s lop-sided grin was back, her laughing decreasing into a small chuckle. With a nod, she replied, “Thanks doll, lord knows I’m fucking sick of telling her to back off. Then again, most lesbians are clingy and shit…” Trailing off Ellis frowned and then shook her head, smirk back on her lips, “Oh well, I can’t avoid it – I love women too much.” Grinning wickedly, Ellis laughed softly and then shrugged again. “So, what about you? What are you trying to avoid coming up here?”[/blockquote][/ul][/size] |
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Post by suri blanc on Feb 19, 2010 13:52:37 GMT -5
CLINGY. THE WORD DIDN'T only apply to lesbians. The second she said that word, an image of her boyfriend came up in the back parts of her mind, as it always did every time she was about to do something she obviously shouldn't. Like, for example, every time she was about to climb into bed or the back of someone's car that wasn't his, the face would appear. That look he got whenever he was upset...It wasn't like she tried to hide her antics. She honestly didn't. If he asked her straight to her face if she was cheating, she would say that yes, she was, at least once a week; even if it was just having some heavy lip locking with someone else. Suri was always more of a kissing whore than anything, if anyone bothered to notice. Male or female, she had no objection to either.
AND AS SHE WAS asked what she was trying to escape from, she took a drag from her cancer stick, thinking about it for a few moments. Was she trying to escape from her relationship? From the confrontation that was bound to happen? From the feeling of basically failing herself-even if anyone else on the planet would deem her successful because of the career she built for herself in less than a year? Was she trying to escape from all the memories of the many faces of those she would leave alone in the morning and never remember their names again? Or, perhaps, she was just trying to escape from herself..."Myself," Suri was a horrible liar unless it was through writing. In person, if she tried to lie, she couldn't look people in the face or she would start fidgeting and playing with her hair, cigarette, whatever was close by and inanimate. So, the truth was what usually came out; uncensored.
SURI TOOK THE BOTTLE back as it was handed to her and took a swig of it, letting it run it's coarse through her veins. She had been downstairs earlier, lips locked on the cute bartender's while his hand was down the front of her pants. Hell, it was how she got the bottle of Bacardi and she didn't need to be dressed like a slut to hop into someone's pants, "And clingy, " she looked down at her cigarette then at the view again, "Is an understatement," running her fingers through her hair, she brought the cigarette up once again, "My...significant other has been clinging to my leg like a horny dog for way too long," and she would complain all the time about it-but never do anything about it. Suri just didn't have that extra mean bone inside her to rip him to shreds by saying she was leaving him. Plus, her sister had become friends with him, practically making him family. She would see him all the time and she currently didn't want to. Suri never did notice when something or someone good had come her way. She never let them sweep her off her feet, never let them whisper sweet nothings into her ear, never let them get close enough to make her burn. There would be no point. Why? So one or the other could hurt the other in the end? So they could end up bitter and alone-when they could have avoided all the petty drama if they were never together in the first place...Maybe she was just being pessimistic but, hey, Suri figured she was just a realist. Shit happened and she would sometimes rather avoid letting said shit happen.
TAGGED: ELLIS
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Post by Ellis Pegg on Feb 19, 2010 14:44:28 GMT -5
[/i] dog that stayed around and wouldn't leave unless commanded to. "Hmm, so you got stuck with the pants in the relationship," Ellis mused allowed, ashing her cigarette and taking another drag inbetween thoughts, "In any case, it's you that would have to end it."Watching her fingers travel through her tresses, Ellis pressed her lips together. She was fairly good at reading body language, and that single motion, coupled with those words, spoke volumes. Additionally, the way she stared down at her cigarette did the same. It looked like Suri had been reminded of what she was trying to escape thoroughly and Ellis found herself wary. Putting this girl in a bad mood did not appeal to her, but then again, she wasn't planning on censoring or leaving the balcony... "You care about him though, whether you like it or not," Ellis stated, though she added just enough inflection to make it uncertain, "I can tell, I've had more than one... fling with people that have a boyfriend but can't seem to commit to them. I'm their escape for a while; I know that, and I know that I'll never be important to them because whether they want to admit it or not they are attatched to him." She shrugged, looking out over Paris once more, "...And they always figure it out eventually."Serious relationships didn't really happen with Ellis. She didn't attract people who commited, and she didn't really want commitment either - she just wasn't the type of person to ever really settle down. There's always that chance, but it was slim to none. Maybe what really defined her love life was that she didn't go out looking for it; she just let it happen.[/blockquote][/ul][/size] |
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Post by suri blanc on Feb 19, 2010 17:13:53 GMT -5
SURI, HOWEVER, DIDN'T WANT to be the one to end it. She never ended it and if she did it was only because she just picked her stuff and her ass up and left the country entirely. The nineteen year old was tired of running, though, "But if I end it," her voice suddenly went soft, barely audible, "it would kill him and my sister...who sees him as practically a brother by now..." It seemed certain that despite constantly insulting her half sister, Eve, and treating her like total and utter shit, Suri would do anything to make sure she was at least still content with life. She didn't want her older half sister, who had absolutely everything going for her, to end up as bitter with life as Suri was. She would rather her sister have the sickly, sticky sweet taste in her mouth than the sour one Suri seemed to always have, "Breaking up with him would be like practically breaking up with her."
SADLY ENOUGH, ISRAEL HAD managed to lodge himself deep enough in her family and friends that leaving him would be like leaving everything she worked so hard for. The trust between her and her sister would be broken, the parties, the drugs, the alcohol, the fuck buddies, her occupation...Because if Suri ended it, it was inevitable that she would leave and leave everyone and everything whether she wanted to or needed to or not. It was just...instinct...But if he ended it, she would stay put. She lived with him for Pete's sake...She would have to move out and her sister lived with them as well so that was another bummer. Her sister was the extra carry on luggage. Suri had always been more responsible, better academically...but Eve had her looks, her charm, that obnoxious laughter of her's that would shatter Suri's ear drums..."Plus," she glanced over at her after taking a drag and blowing the intoxicating smoke through her teeth, "I'm sick of being lonely," again, the bare truth. Maybe that was why they loved her articles so much over at Vogue. She didn't hold back for anyone, which was why she, without realizing, was liking the female next to her. She seemed to keep herself uncensored as well and that was what life was all about. No ratings and no censors. Just the cold, hard facts whether people like it or not.
LOOKING AWAY, SHE FLICKED her cigarette on the railing and then sucked in a drag without a second thought to it, "So, intruder, what's you're actual name?" it was out of curiosity because in her mind, having her named 'intruder' wasn't exactly that appealing...Well in a way it was, if one looked at it from a sexual and perverse point of view.In that case it was a bit hilarious. Oh la la, at least she wouldn't mind her being an intruder in that form..."Because I'd like to know who I'm pouring my heart out to," the last bit had come out without her realizing it, before she could bite it back and hold it in as she did a few comments about many things toward many people. She normally didn't tell people this much, even if it was only the surface skimmer of her deeply rooted problems. The only person she actually told anything meaningful to she had left...because she was terrified of hurting him worse than she already had at the time...
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