tampered | Log; ongoing

Log; ongoing

When; Saturday, May 16
Rating; PG (for now)
Characters; Blair

thesecondslayer
Summary; B is in need of some guidance from below~ and who better to do it than F? ♥
Log;

Blair did not know how long she had been in the City, but between finishing that bottle of scotch and walking out to find no taxis to hail, she knew she was no longer in Manhattan. She thought she remembered the place, and the people, and all the things that happened. But right now she simply did not care.

All she cared about was finding someplace she could have the most fun. There was no longer any Yale to care about, after all, no longer any mom or dad to please or friends at school to wow. The old Blair Waldorf was dead, and this new one was free of plans and inhibitions and frustrations. She was free now, she was happy. Really. She finished her glass of martini in a single gulp, signaling the bartender for another one.

Some remnants of the old Waldorf was still there, such as the fact that her martini was made of gin, or that her outfit was color -coo rdin ated (minus the headband and plus the velvet red lips), or that she still opted to go to the high end area of The Raven. She did not know how to kill those parts off, or maybe she was still too scared. She did not want to think about it. She did not want to think.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's pretty much dumb luck Faith runs into Blair. She went Underground to hunt before remembering Kyle had told her to back off, a little bit; and the Raven was right there. Money in her pocket, jack to do, and a place with booze? No brainer.

So when she stepped up to the bar-- there's still a little thrill in that; Underground or not, this place is pretty fancy up in the VIP area, and having the kind of cash that she can buy shit and not get kicked out doesn't suck-- and turned to see a familiar face, she frowned.

"Upp-- Blair. The hell you doing here?" Moving closer, she lifted one eyebrow. "Could have sworn that Chuck kid said you got sent home."

Blair turned to her slowly, her senses dulled by the alcohol.

She knew this girl. The Southie. But she could feel a sinking feeling in her stomach at the mention of Chuck. Her ghosts caught up to her even when she had fled to another dimension. It made her wonder if she had been gone long from the City, if Serena and Chuck were still around. And Arthur. And Junior-- but Blair was a born actress and she swept those thoughts out of her mind without even the twitch of a nerve. "Faith."

The bartender served her the glass of gin martini, no olives. She gulped it down in one go before turning back to the other girl. She smiled coldly. "I'm home now."

"I can see that." She eyed the drink in Blair's hand. "And celebrating it. Pretty sure those ain't shotglasses, Upper East. Could be wrong, but I think you gotta sip at shit like that."

Faith's seen that smile before, all hidden razors and anger. It's usually staring back from the mirror, and it makes her simultaneously want to get the hell out and do that bullshit 'are you okay' crap B's crowd likes so much. Finally, she shrugged and pushed money across the bar, pointing at a bottle of Jack before turning back to Blair. "You been back long?" She doesn't offer judgment on the booze other than the earlier teasing, just takes her shot of Jack from the bartender when it's offered and tosses it back expertly. "Welcome back, I guess."

"Sipping is for snobs and wannabes," Blair replied like a line from a movie. She was both, once, but no longer. No longer, never. She watched Faith buy herself a shot of whiskey and suddenly felt like she was still so much her old self. Martini was what the old Blair liked, with extra olives, because she liked playing with the olives and placing them oh-so-daintily in her mouth, and she liked sipping the glass with such elegance that even Grace Kelly would be proud. But this was the new Blair.

She ignored Faith's question, turning to the bartender instead. "Is that the hardest thing you have?"

"Whatever you say, Waldorf." Faith gestured for another shot, then at Blair's question slipped in before the bartender could answer, "Just leave the bottle. I can pay."

They know her here, so the bartender shrugged, then walked off when Faith subtly jerked her head, the message clear: leave. "It's one of them. You looking to step up?"

She sized Blair up, thoughtfully. "Gonna burn like a bitch."

She was not drunk yet, but she was certainly beyond tipsy. She might break her ankle walking out of the place, or, god forbid, chip a nail. But damn it, Blair, stop holding on to shards and ruins. All that was done with, she did not want them anymore. She only wanted to have fun, as much fun as she could have. You only got one life to live and all that, right?

Blair replied with a smirk. "I should know how to handle it then."

If Faith has to carry her out of the damn bar... she'll do it and she won't mention it again, but damn. First rule of drinking with the big girls; don't make anybody carry your ass home. Blair's got a lot to learn.

Faith shrugged. "Fair enough. Okay, here's what we're gonna do." She twisted her body, hopping over the bar quickly and grabbing an extra shot glass, then vaulted back over. Slayer reflexes; better for more than just killing shit. "Think you're still too green for body shots or sharing glasses, so here you go."

She set the shot glass down, poured a-- relatively small, not that Blair needs to know that-- shot. "Let's see you go, little B. Take it fast or you're gonna regret it."

She sure did. Things like there being no chauffeur to make sure you get home safe and there being no Dorota to clean her up all sober and decent enough for a Vanderbilt brunch. But now she thought the lack of those would not even matter to her. It was just like someone who thought she lost everything to feel so invincible. Blair liked the feeling.

Even the display of superhuman reflexes by Faith, the mention of body shots and the demeaning way the other girl said green did not affect her. She only chuckled in amusement, raising the shot glass to the air in a toast. "To everything that doesn't matter."

Then she gulped it down like she did her martini. Only the whiskey did not go down as smoothly as the gin did, instead it burned her mouth and throat and she would have puked it all out if her ego was not so vulnerable. She thought to herself that bleach would taste better, and the realization made her feel brave --or maybe it was the alcohol going straight to her brain. Blair made a face before correcting it into a sloppy grin. "I feel like dancing."

Faith nodded, shrugging a little. "Decent toast." Whatever Blair's got going, it's bad. And not like Faith has ever been the tea and sympathy kind of chick; she's not built for the touchy-feely bullcrap. Best she can do is keep an eye on the kid, because if how Blair took that shot is any indication of what's to come, she's gonna need her own guardian slayer.

"Woah, woah, woah. One slug, one swallow. Take it like that, you're gonna puke your guts up later." Still might, she added internally, but not like she's dumb enough to say it out loud.

Shaking her head, Faith laughed. "All right, cool. We hit the floor, make the bar drool. Five by five."

Blair made a drunken giggle, hopping off the bar stumbling. But she regained her balance like a natural. She was practically born on high heels after all. She was also practically born to money and Vanderbilt and Yale, but she did not want to think about that.

She took Faith's arm, dragging her over to the floor with more giggles. The people were too occupied by their own dancing that she had to shuffle through, but the both of them made it to the middle with no trouble. Letting go of Faith's hand, she did an opening spin with a delighted squeal, earning the glances of several people nearby. Not that she cared.

She was not as good a dancer as Serena, definitely not, but she was not lacking in moves either. That the esteemed Chuck Bass admitted it should mean something. If people were watching then Blair did not notice. All she cared about was making sure she was moving enough that she had no time to think.

Faith moved close enough she could prop Blair up if she fell, her expression turning grudgingly impressed when Blair righted herself without help. Lightweight or not, anyone who could walk on those damn things while full of booze deserved all the props they could get.

Rolling her eyes, Faith let herself be tugged along, making sure to give a few of the patrons eying Blair a toothy grin, sharp and threatening, keeping her hand in Blair's and her body language possessive. Not like Faith's got some delusion of being able to stop the younger girl short of knocking her out if shit gets out of hand-- or even that she really swings that way-- but most of the people at the Raven know enough to stay out of her way. Easier to keep an eye on Blair if the rest of the club thinks she's claimed ground.

Faith was always a better dancer than Buffy; the same energy and instinctive grace she brings to slaying applied differently. If it's an opportunity not to think Blair wants, Faith can give it to her.

It occurred to her that Faith was just indulging her, that the other girl knew, perhaps even more than Blair herself did, that the road she was setting on was all downhill and definitely destructive. She was just playing the role of the good partner-in-crime until there comes a chance of jumping off the wayward train with the damsel-in-distress in tow. But Blair had made herself out to be the heroine for so long before she realized she was always born a villain. She could tell that Faith was too, unlike perfect Serena on her gold pedestal.

But those were thoughts, and right now she did not want any of those.

Blair laughed delightedly though the sound of it was drowned by the music. She leaned over so she would not have to shout too loud. "They're totally staring."

Faith doesn't do indulgent. Or at least that's what she tells the world; let the chick keep her deep-seated delusions. Blair's just... a friend, whatever, and friends don't let friends get fucked up alone. Hey, worst comes to worst, she can call the pervy guy for details on what the hell is going on.

"No fucking duh, Upper East. We're hot." Faith leaned in a little herself, grinning in spite of herself. Yeah, maybe the connect is coming at the expense of whatever the hell is tearing Blair up, but this... doesn't suck, from a selfish level. Faith was always a fan of dragging people down to her level instead of coming up to hang on theirs. She shimmied her hips, then neatly moved them away from some guy with hands looking to follow eyes. "Gonna get stares."

Yes, of course, they were hot.

Blair never thought of herself as hot, or warm even. She had once been the cold virgin queen, all icy stares and sharp words, but she had broken free of that prison for good. Now she was made of sultry gazes and flaming red lips, warm-blooded and alive. Yes, she has never felt more alive.

She noticed a man behind her coming close. She could not focus on his face but she could see that he was dressed in a business suit. An investment banker, perhaps? She wondered if Serena would laugh. Sending him an amused smile, she dropped low to the floor before coming back up slowly, tracing the length of his body without touching him. Just the same, he could see but he could not touch. Blair turned to Faith with a giggle.

Faith sent the guy off with a glare when he strayed closer, encouraged by Blair; they're both hot and Blair is obviously drunk , but Faith is more threatening. Balancing act between reward and getting bodily tossed out of the club.

"Sure you're new to this, B?" Faith's insides tightened a little at that, Buffy's nickname for once not bitter, but she ignored the feeling in favor of an impressed whistle. "Got some wicked moves on you."

Blair grinned, like a puppy rewarded by its master. "It's only my second time." The first was at Victrola, just like how her first first was with the owner of Victrola. It occurred to her that all the trouble started from that point in time, but it was only now that she was looking up from below that she realized how inevitable this was. All along she had fooled herself into thinking she would always be alright. Now she simply relished this feeling of not being alright.

She stepped back and stumbled again on her heels. The room was spinning and her head felt like it was filled to the brim with water, like a goldfish bowl. She stood swaying on the dance floor, knitting her eyebrows and putting a hand on her forehead. "I'll go sit down," she told Faith, and staggered away from the floor to find the bar.

"No shit." Faith shook her head at the grin, pulling Blair closer again when the dude in the suit doesn't take the hint. It's all coming back to her now; good girl gone bad, some bad porn cliche like that. Except right now Faith is saddled with all these morals and guilt and shit like that, so it's less about dragging her down than keeping her company until she crawls back up.

It only took Faith a second to catch up to Blair, slip an arm around her waist that has less to do with companionship than keeping her drunk ass off the floor. "Hey, tell you what. I'm gonna take your baby badass self home with me, you can sleep it off, and tomorrow we can start again. Get you partying right."

Hey, maybe it'll all be blown over by tomorrow. Girl can hope.

[ooc: At mi familia's to beat the heat since it's like eleventy billion degrees today and my apartment is essentially an oven; tags might be lag-y, sob. ALSO Amy and I were thinking Faith will set Blair up in Sylar's bed while they share. >.>]

Blair couldn't really care less about Faith's intentions for staying around, or maybe she just couldn't focus her mind enough to even think about that. The buzz from the alcohol was quickly shifting from pleasantly numbing to awfully agonizing. She let out a whine that was quite telling of how used she was to hard liquor. Still, she managed a sloppy grin when she noticed that Faith had caught up to her.

"Yeah, sleep, party, yeah." She mumbled, hoping that that sounded more intelligent than it did in her head. The idea of getting out of these shoes and sleeping off the headache seemed so good. "Let's go home."

She could sleep on her couch, she thought, and was surprised at how she didn't shudder at the thought as she would usually have.

[ooc; Aww ♥ THEY'RE TOO GOOD TO HER ;___;]

"Home works." Faith shook her head again, grinning ruefully. Blair will feel this tomorrow, and it's a good thing Faith owns more painkillers than she knows what to do with. She took a quick look at Blair's unfocused eyes and sighed. "Don't bitch at me for this or I'll drop you."

She slid her arms around Blair enough to get a good hold on her, then swung her up in her arms. They're the same height, but Blair's light where Faith's muscled, and Slayer strength means other than it being a little awkward, carrying Blair is easy as hell. "All right, let's go. Easier than waiting for you to keep up."

[ooc: FAITH LOVES YOU, BLAIR. And Sylar is trying to build his bank of people who don't think he's evil. >.>]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Log; ongoing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject