Post by Alette Soye Veridae on Oct 22, 2012 21:29:06 GMT -5
there aint no rest for the wicked
MONEY DOESNT GROW ON TREES
the night drug on, and so did alette's failed attempts. she sat on the arm of a couch, her brow furrowed in frustration. every now and again, a drunken teen would stagger over to her, slurring drunken words. she sent them on their way indefinitely. her gaze lowered, and she stared at the half empty bottle of jack daniels clutched in one hand at the rim. the emptiness was discouraging. she felt nothing more than a slight buzz, which was remarkably dull to what she typically fancied.
she stood up with an unusual vitality, and trudged forward into the crowd of tottering teens. her sensitive ears picked up the slight sound of a heave, the werecat jumping back just in the nick of time. scoffing she turned to the culprit and fixated a menacing glare, before turning to find a different exit. not soon enough, she was alone wandering the street. the only light was from the flickering street lights and slitted crescent of a moon. the sloshing sound of the whiskey in her hands was suddenly an incredible annoyance. alette turned, bringing her arm back before thrusting the bottle at the ground.
eventually she arrived back at the house of night. pausing outside, she examined the entrance. "how obnoxious," she muttered to herself, referring to the sheer size of the gates. with a roll of her eyes, she continued inside. her body language warded others, with slumped shoulders and a grim expression. she was dressed in a simple white tank that was generous to her body, along with a pair of distressed, high waisted shorts that had a distinct floral print on one of the thigh pockets. as for shoes, she wore a pair of brown boots - however, instead of taking time to tie them up, she tucked the laces inside and rolled down the upper edges. on her right arm hung an off-white, linen bag traced with elephants horizontally along the length.
the bag swung down, and she held it by the long strap, simply dragging it along with her. groaning, she brushed her hair from her face. her breath must have wreaked of whiskey, though she payed it little attention. it very well could have been the last on her list of concerns, though she was very unaware of who else was traveling the school grounds.
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