Oooh oooh! A new IC LJ!!!
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voodoo_noemi
It's for my newish PC, Noemi Bayon. Yes, I'm ker-squee.
And yes, I'm cross posting.
voodoo_noemiIt's for my newish PC, Noemi Bayon. Yes, I'm ker-squee.
And yes, I'm cross posting.
Current Mood:
amused
Here's my creative take on Mei's embrace, which was, admittedly, highly entertaining. Names are omitted because it's smrt, and because at this point, Mei had no idea wtf he was :) Oh, and names of the human tards remain adjustable, pending my VST deciding if he likes them :)
I'm actually quite pleased with this char, and am, so far, having fun, with her. I am looking for more ties in the past couple years. She's... well... the Triad Princess, and she disappeared not-quite 2 months ago.
<lj cut>
<i>I was bored, so I went shopping. A couple pairs of shoes, a nice skirt, and a crazy bargain on that sweater that only cost $250. And now I'm walking home, because it's a beautiful night, although admittedly, these aren't the best shoes to do that in. That and this area sort of sucks. Not like where I remember from when I was a kid, but still, too many dark alleys, drug dealers out on the corners, and not even the ones that know to leave me alone. Uncle Lao used to yell at me about that. In his wobbly-old-man voice, "Don't want through those nasty areas, little flower, too dangerous for you." Always caution from him, mixing English curses with our native Cantonese. Auntie Ning would be so horrified when I'd repeat the cusses, and he and I would giggle together, never betraying the other.
I should have bought that damn belt. <i>
Darkness... a foul smelling bag over my head, lifted up, one shoe gone, tossed roughly into what I think is a trunk. Kicking furiously at what I think is a back seat, while a car weaves smoothly through traffic. Fighting the urge to scream, I take long, slow breaths. Time is hard to gauge in the dark, hard to figure out how far we've gone. Soon enough, too soon, rough hands drag me out of the car, hooking under my elbows and fair dragging me into... wherever. They sit me down on a chair, and unceremoniously drag the cloth off my head. They stand in the shadows of the room, so I can't see their faces, but something in my head relaxes, voices and postures tell me who they are. I start to say something, but one of them interrupts. "Be quiet, Mei, sit there and be quiet. We aren't going to hurt you. No one wants you hurt. Shiang Chai just wants to talk to you. Just be quiet."
His voice is just a little nervous. His shoulders slump with it. They're all uncomfortable. I realize I've known them all, almost as long as I've been alive. Zian used to bring me ice cream at least once a week. A fat envelope for my father and a big dish of ice cream for me. Mike brought me to the movies when I was a teenager, careful manners, nervousness, making sure to open every door for me. I'm calming, slowly. But I do what they say, just sit and be quiet on this uncomfortable chair, in a creepy empty room. I believe what they say, that he just wants to talk to me.
They all give a little start as some stranger, some white boy walks in, demanding to know what's going on. The men, my father's men, already uncomfortable, just a little twitchy, they snap, and fire at him. I dive off the chair, start running for the door, head down like they always told me, like dad always warned me. But something makes me look back, and I see the bullets hitting the stranger. And I see the one that's heading my way. Time seems to stretch and freeze, and then rocket forward again, metal burying itself through skin and muscle. My hands come up without even thinking, to hold back the rush of blood, but they don't do any good. Pain, like nothing I've ever known, burns through me. A few more stumbling steps, and I sink down against the wall. All I can do is stare down at my hands, blood flowing between fingers that don't really feel like mine.
<i>No one wants you hurt.<i>
It echoes through my head, as I sit there, hunched over, propped up against the wall. The stranger, the stupid white boy that caused all this, that spooked Zian, moves my hands, looks at the hole in my stomach.
"It'll take forever for an ambulance to get here."
I mutter at him, until I realize I'm speaking Cantonese, and switch to English, words coming harder. "Call them."
He studies me a moment, but it doesn't seem to matter. He says something, it doesn't quite process. He lifts his shirt, and I see holes that don't bleed closing like they were just an illusion. Somewhere in his words I hear "Save you."
"Call them. Don't want to die."
He picks up my hand, I fight it for a second, determined to keep my failing strength pressing on the wound. Like it's happening to someone else, I see him bite down, feel the sting of it, and it floats away into something else, some amazing sensation. But it's too much, and I've lost too much blood. The world fades away, darkness and silence.
Light flickers, and I realize I can't quite get my eyes to open. Dim shapes, an arm in front of my face. A sharp coppery smell, at once disgusting, and the most alluring thing I've smelled. Cool liquid drips into my mouth, and I taste blood... but not. Somewhere, my rational mind asks, <i> cool blood?</i> but I can't turn away from it, and it seems that strength flows back into me. I take a hold of his arm, unsure to push it away or latch on, and I can't back away from it. My mind flashes to the hole in my stomach, and it seems that I can feel it knitting together. I push his arm away, realizing I'm latched on like an animal, and I'm not even sure why.
I push myself to my feet, determined that I won't crawl, no matter how dizzy I am. "Why are you here?"
I'm actually quite pleased with this char, and am, so far, having fun, with her. I am looking for more ties in the past couple years. She's... well... the Triad Princess, and she disappeared not-quite 2 months ago.
<lj cut>
<i>I was bored, so I went shopping. A couple pairs of shoes, a nice skirt, and a crazy bargain on that sweater that only cost $250. And now I'm walking home, because it's a beautiful night, although admittedly, these aren't the best shoes to do that in. That and this area sort of sucks. Not like where I remember from when I was a kid, but still, too many dark alleys, drug dealers out on the corners, and not even the ones that know to leave me alone. Uncle Lao used to yell at me about that. In his wobbly-old-man voice, "Don't want through those nasty areas, little flower, too dangerous for you." Always caution from him, mixing English curses with our native Cantonese. Auntie Ning would be so horrified when I'd repeat the cusses, and he and I would giggle together, never betraying the other.
I should have bought that damn belt. <i>
Darkness... a foul smelling bag over my head, lifted up, one shoe gone, tossed roughly into what I think is a trunk. Kicking furiously at what I think is a back seat, while a car weaves smoothly through traffic. Fighting the urge to scream, I take long, slow breaths. Time is hard to gauge in the dark, hard to figure out how far we've gone. Soon enough, too soon, rough hands drag me out of the car, hooking under my elbows and fair dragging me into... wherever. They sit me down on a chair, and unceremoniously drag the cloth off my head. They stand in the shadows of the room, so I can't see their faces, but something in my head relaxes, voices and postures tell me who they are. I start to say something, but one of them interrupts. "Be quiet, Mei, sit there and be quiet. We aren't going to hurt you. No one wants you hurt. Shiang Chai just wants to talk to you. Just be quiet."
His voice is just a little nervous. His shoulders slump with it. They're all uncomfortable. I realize I've known them all, almost as long as I've been alive. Zian used to bring me ice cream at least once a week. A fat envelope for my father and a big dish of ice cream for me. Mike brought me to the movies when I was a teenager, careful manners, nervousness, making sure to open every door for me. I'm calming, slowly. But I do what they say, just sit and be quiet on this uncomfortable chair, in a creepy empty room. I believe what they say, that he just wants to talk to me.
They all give a little start as some stranger, some white boy walks in, demanding to know what's going on. The men, my father's men, already uncomfortable, just a little twitchy, they snap, and fire at him. I dive off the chair, start running for the door, head down like they always told me, like dad always warned me. But something makes me look back, and I see the bullets hitting the stranger. And I see the one that's heading my way. Time seems to stretch and freeze, and then rocket forward again, metal burying itself through skin and muscle. My hands come up without even thinking, to hold back the rush of blood, but they don't do any good. Pain, like nothing I've ever known, burns through me. A few more stumbling steps, and I sink down against the wall. All I can do is stare down at my hands, blood flowing between fingers that don't really feel like mine.
<i>No one wants you hurt.<i>
It echoes through my head, as I sit there, hunched over, propped up against the wall. The stranger, the stupid white boy that caused all this, that spooked Zian, moves my hands, looks at the hole in my stomach.
"It'll take forever for an ambulance to get here."
I mutter at him, until I realize I'm speaking Cantonese, and switch to English, words coming harder. "Call them."
He studies me a moment, but it doesn't seem to matter. He says something, it doesn't quite process. He lifts his shirt, and I see holes that don't bleed closing like they were just an illusion. Somewhere in his words I hear "Save you."
"Call them. Don't want to die."
He picks up my hand, I fight it for a second, determined to keep my failing strength pressing on the wound. Like it's happening to someone else, I see him bite down, feel the sting of it, and it floats away into something else, some amazing sensation. But it's too much, and I've lost too much blood. The world fades away, darkness and silence.
Light flickers, and I realize I can't quite get my eyes to open. Dim shapes, an arm in front of my face. A sharp coppery smell, at once disgusting, and the most alluring thing I've smelled. Cool liquid drips into my mouth, and I taste blood... but not. Somewhere, my rational mind asks, <i> cool blood?</i> but I can't turn away from it, and it seems that strength flows back into me. I take a hold of his arm, unsure to push it away or latch on, and I can't back away from it. My mind flashes to the hole in my stomach, and it seems that I can feel it knitting together. I push his arm away, realizing I'm latched on like an animal, and I'm not even sure why.
I push myself to my feet, determined that I won't crawl, no matter how dizzy I am. "Why are you here?"