On Tap

[Ffion]

Night is never truly that anymore, cities glitter, light as any dawn, their omnipresent glow down out the stars, the monster that once preyed from shadow, and under street now claim dominion, right beside you as you walk and carry on like you never need fear.

New to the city, and still hesitant.

spider webbing fractures beneath her feet
the end of an immortal's life...

She wanted not to insight any misunderstanding in her habits she stayed far from the Rack. In streets between the glittering lights. Places that were rough, and unpolished.

Lights low, and the music high. You can smell the cheep beer from the street, and nearly the sweat of the girls dancing on the pole.

Ffion, jeans, ripped and torn more oft then whole, showing her legs and the ink staining them, marking them. Littering her body with memory, history. And why the fuck nots? While her boots, make a better warning then heels. She's wearing a faded tee, she can't remember what used to be on it. Maybe she'd never known, and only enjoyed the shapes and colours, with her leather jacket thrown over it.

She orders a beer, and find a table with a view. She might be stopping by for dinner, but she'll definitely get a show.

[Ffion]

Book Keeping~

[Floki]

"I can't help but feel overdressed, don't you?" a voice whispered right beside Ffion's ear, the voice feminine and tinged with a subtle, if foreign accent.

When Ffion turned to look, she found herself staring at a face that she'd seen during the execution, though this time, it was washed free of blood, and flat, white teeth were bared in a mischievous smile. Floki stood up from her crouch behind Ffion and walked around to join her in the booth, sliding in without a word until they bumped hips.

"It's not just a coincidence," Floki added, leaning close to the stranger, her voice pitched so that it would carry just above the music. "I was following you. You seem like an interested friend to have."

Floki's eyes remained fixed on the bald woman, rather than the gyrating woman on stage, or the others strutting about the club. She hadn't come for the show, after all. It had been the sensation of scales against her skin, the faint brush of Ffion's weak beast that had inspired Floki to follow her.

[Ffion]

Ffion starts as the whispered breath tickles her ear. It takes her a moment to settle, - how unobservant had she become? - before she comes to realize there is a familiar way that accent wraps around the English words.

"You are only under dressed if you believe yourself to be." she turns, her own voice accented similarly.

Ffion allows the androgynous women to slide close. Pressing hip against hip. She had been one of the few who's face stained red after the loss of the immortal's life. She, herself had been focused on the question of her decision to stay, and choking on her fear. She was new, with no allies, and the gangrel's claws tore through that of her Deputy. Yes treason was sited, but which kind? The unknown haunts her still, and would for nights to come.

"...and what of me did you find so interesting that you headed upon this journey to haunt my steps?"

[Floki]

"Would you believe me if I said it was in the way you moved?" Floki asked, a shallow grin hiding the full extent of her mirth.

"You shouldn't because that would be a lie. Perhaps it's because of your hair. If you have any. Where I'm from, it was illegal for a woman to cut her hair. And yet, here you are, your head as bare as Sif's lovely scalp before the gods got all their gifts. This seems like an Omen."

Floki grinned as a waitress came striding over, and ordered a round of vodka for them.

[Ffion]

There is a dichotomy of emotion that flow through her as her Shadow speaks. The accent comforting, familiar, safe. It makes her remember good things, the naming of Sif and the treasures gifted by Loki, bring a smile. They had common ground now, even if the rakish women knew it not. Though even as fractured memories surface, she feels fear threading through her. if her bargain lay bare before this women what would she think? How was Ffion to be judged?

"You say this as if your hair is not also cut short, like razor has not come close to your head." she says in lieu of an answer, at least at first. "Every night, even when I decide to keep hair upon my head, I take a knife to it. In choice, in defiance."

[Floki]

Floki couldn't help but laugh, and run a hand through her hair, feeling the fuzzy edges of the undercut, as well as the silken flow of the locks on top.

"Yes, well, what can I say? Perhaps I recognized something about you, something familiar. Defiance is important. So is transgression. I love transgression." Floki paused to smile and wink at one of the dancers before turning back to her new friend.

"That's why I became what you see before you. I transgressed, and this was noticed by another. Then I climbed aboard a ship, and a feeew years later, I've crossed an ocean and a continent. What about you?"