log; ongoing

[thentothesky.livejournal.com]

When; NOW. I think.
Rating; PG-13? WHO KNOWS, I'm tipsy, shh.
Characters; Holly Golightly [thentothesky]; Sam Oliver [idkmybffsatan]
Summary; This is totally organic and random, so who knows what the summary is? Holly's a magpie, Sam thinks Audrey Hepburn's hot. (Or I think he does. He should.)
Log;

New York is meant to be a city of lights, high rises with rows upon rows of incandescent lighting dotting the windows, bustling streets when the rest of the country snuggled deep in their covers, ready to drift to sleep. Holly's known this world as being her own for a fair number of months prior to showing up in the City, but in all honesty, she's never converted entirely to the strange timezone of the Big Apple--the sunrise still calls her awake in the same way that the rustling of morning breezes did back in the country, and the yellows melding into reds and purples in the sky still act as curtains sliding across the windows. Lights out, time for bed. The City, however, is slightly different, the sun never a guarantee and the nighttime more a cause for concern, rather than celebration. That sort of danger is something Holly's been needing in her life, lately, however--bereft of her funds towards a better life for Freddy, bereft of her contacts from home to make the nights speed away, she's forced instead to roam the streets, peering in from window to window, seeing what's still awake and what will keep her distracted until she passes out from exhaustion.

Tonight, it's flashing white and red lights that call Holly to one of the newer establishments, Fangtasia. Her brow furrows neatly as she approaches the place, watching it from a few meters away. The music is loud, raucous, not at all Holly's style, but she still lingers nearby, wrapping a black shawl closely around her fingers.

She's not adjusting quite as well as she ought to. But it won't be for lack of trying.

Comments

[idkmybffsatan.livejournal.com]

Working at Fangtasia was a 180 degree shift from that all-purpose tool store of wide concrete floors and boxes stacked a mile high that could very well kill you, given that there was an earthquake. And with Washington's ass pressed against a fault line, that was always a possibility. At the Work Bench he had spent his minutes in perpetual procrastination, and here- well, he was a pretty diligent employee. Maybe it was due to the fact that his boss could remove his head clear off his neck. It was the same reason why he was pretty decent at being a Reaper. And Sam had gotten used to it soon enough, accustomed to the pounding music and the crowds of people dressed in tacky goth-chic. He likened it to a Goth table at school: eyeliner and raccoon eyes, latex tank tops two sizes too small, and fish nets with dominatrix boots that could crush toes. Of course there were your relatively normal people, though normal should be a word excluded from the City's dictionary.

Never had he expected to spy Holy Golightly (or any character Audrey Hepburn played) anywhere near Fangtasia. Even if he worked here, he knew well enough how crass and tacky the joint must seem to the majority, no less Holly - a woman tied to the gilded edges of high society and its eternal propriety. Except she was there, making her way toward the building.

But that didn't stop him from calling her over, regardless if she'd except his invitation or not. It wasn't like the bar was anywhere near full capacity yet, considering it was still 12:30 AM - morning in the eyes of the usual patrons.

"Holly? Hey, is that you?" He's practically yelling, in hopes she'll hear him over the music.

[thentothesky.livejournal.com]

It had been curiosity, more than anything else, which called Holly towards the admittedly rather kitschy bar, one with people wrapped in dark capes and dreaming of being the next Dracula, vampire or not--Holly's knowledge of these sorts of paranormal activities or stories was sparse at best, just things picked up after brief shows throughout the small theatres in New York, things some of her patrons had invited her to just to have a shiny little piece to tote around on their arms. Vampires still didn't seem any more real than werewolves, or zombies, or other creatures of myth supposedly brought to the life by the City. Holly's interest lay, interestingly enough, with the fascination of other people, starry-eyed folks gazing towards the vampires wandering in the bar with a blasé. The great intoxication lay in watching that of others.

She means to simply veer off to a detour, heading back to a more respectable part of town--if such a thing honestly exists in the City. But her name, though it may not be Lula Mae, may not be the name she knew for over a decade, is still more than enough to call her attention, and Holly heads towards the bar, towards the vague but familiar voice, and her face spreads into more of a smile--sincere, open, both in ways that aren't generally possible for her back home--as she spots Sam off near the entrance. Ignoring the line, she simply stands outside of the red velvet-wrapped barriers, more interested in talking to the guard than entering the establishment herself.

"Why, Sammy dear," she smiles brightly, looking around at the others in line without batting an eye, without missing a beat. "It's me indeed, Holly Golightly right here and now, if that's what you'd like. Are you working here tonight? I was just passing through town, not really sure where or what I was planning on doing, really. Thought about playing it by ear, and certainly you've helped with that, now, haven't you?"