Back Alley Magic

September 16, 2014: Dreamraker meets Seikatsu in a back alley. (NSFW: Language and suggestive situations.)

Suicide Slums

(You really don't want to read the description. But know that it smells like rotten food and pee.)



  • A skinny little hipster dude
  • <Use same pattern for all npcs>

Mood Music:

Its the middle of the night, just after two in the morning. Somewhere deep within the Suicide Slum, there comes the sound of throbbing bass, the sounds of an illegal, underground dance party. One telltale sign tends to be the flashes of light that sneak out from beneath an old, tagged up loading dock garage door. Whatever is going on inside, there's bound to be plenty of debauchery.

Around 2:30 in the morning, a door to the side opens up, filling the alley with the reproachful sound of dubstep music. A skinny little hipster dude, most likely hopped up on so much MDMA that he can't 'get it up', is making out with a tall, leggy redhead. He's wearing the skinny jeans and ironic t-shirt that is the Hipster Uniform, and she's rocking impossibly high heels, multi-layered and ripped up tights, a scandalously short sequined skirt, and a bra.

Once outside, the woman presses her 'date' against the wall and promptly begins unfastening his pants while dropping to her knees. However, whatever flops out seems to be a disappointment, for a Scottish voice suddenly rings out. "Ah, bollocks! Ya feckin' worthless end, how much Molly did you take! Augh!!"

Lynette backs away, staring at the twitchy hipster boy. He stammers for a moment, before collapsing into a heap, sound asleep. The Scottish girl reaches up to rub irritably at her nose, and falls onto her rump, curling up while rummaging around in her purse. The cold? Doesn't seem to be bothering her right now.

Ten to one, Reese was probably in the garbage can at the back of the club, rummaging around for something edible. And.. chances are, she'd find nothing, and she'd go hungry for the night. There were times she was able to sneak away from Kida, though it would be when Kida was in a dead sleep and without an arm wrapped around Reese's leg or whatever part Reese allows her to grab. This night was one of those nights. If she had to keep the both of them fed with her random findings, their.. bounties, as the weird lady would call it, Reese would have to scavenge often to get the freshest of the lot.

It was not a glamourous life to live, but as long as she was breathing, she did not care. As she says, the world is her playground and everything was free, and while sometimes she wished for a warm bed and bath, a soft pillow and blankets to soothe her sensitive and chilled skin, staying away from others is what mattered.

Though around the time Lynette bursts from the club, Reese had fallen asleep, that same o' ratty shopping cart filled with random padding right there near the back door, in plain view of the two young 'lovers', wheels blocked by bricks that she found and picked out herself that supported her not rolling off and into oblivion. She was tucked away nice and neat inside of the shopping cart, she was small enough to fit.. but yet, the words of the woman stirred the blind one with a furrow of a brow and the need to have a few choice words at disturbing her sleep. She was tired of this shit.

"Get a room!" She bellows out. "Fucking assholes.." That one was a mutter.

"Oy!" Lynette stuffs all of the crap back into her purse and scrambles to her feet, eyes darting about for the source of the noise. Heels clomp about as she rummages about, calling out as she goes, "Haw ye? I'll burst you, ya li'l runtbag piece a shit! Come on, 'en? Eh? Mon!" Glasgwegian at its finest. A few objects get thrown about as Lynette keeps looking about, her eyes out for blood. "Where you at, eh? Where you — oh!"

The ginger slips on something and goes down… hard. She lets out a little shriek upon settling somewhere in the alley, and looks down to find a sizable gash right through her exposed torso. "Ahhh, fuck!" she cries out. "Ssshhhhit, shit, shit!"

Okay, maybe Reese should have kept her mouth shut, but at the sounds of things? Lynette wasn't able to find her. Which was good. People underestimate the power of being short and able to fit into a shopping cart full of blankets. Shopping carts all together! She hunkers down into her place and listens, the voice growing awfully close, not to mention the smell that wafted from the woman who searched, which smelled of booze, cigarettes, and..

She jerks a little as she hears the woman, it sounded like she was about to cry. The woman was obviously hurt and drunk, and there was a certain reluctance digging deep down into Reese's bones. F it.

There was a little rattling sound that came from the shopping cart, a leg swings over to try to touch the ground, the other foot drug backwards so that she could steady herself upon her own two feet. She doesn't need her Lines of Life to tell where the woman was, she could literally smell her and hear her complaints. "Stop it." Reese mutters out, both hands reaching out to feel in front of her so that she wouldn't fall or bump into anything bad. "I'll help. Just stop it." She didn't hate people, but she pretended that she did. In the end, they were all going to die anyways, no attachments necessary.

"W.. wot??" Lynette looks up from where she's got hands pressed against her wound, eyes wide and streaming eyeshadow from the tears spilling down her face. She's drunk, she's already smoked at least two packs, and she's got enough cocaine up her nose to make a Rick James blush. There's a certain wide-eyes paranoia when she reaches with a blood stained hand, gesturing for Reese to stop. "No, no bloody cops, no bloody ambulances!" she begs. "I been through worse before, lassie!"

Which may be true. It also may be bullshit. Either way, Lynette looks down at her injury with a frown, and snuffles back some tears. The amount of narcotics in her system wipe the pain out of existence, but the mere sight of the gash has her feeling nauseous. "Oy. Christ that's… nasty, and gnarly, and… oh fuck, I'm going to get tetanus out here!"

"I'm not calling anyone. Does it look like I have a phone?" She probably couldn't operate one properly anyways, the last phone she held was a payphone.. to guess what? Call 9-1-1. But she was near to her, she could smell the blood, the cigarettes, so she lowered herself to her knees to crawl the rest of the way, only stopping once she felt the heat from Lynette's body. "You don't need them. Me here." Me here? She hung around Kida too long.

"No tetanus. Here." Her one hand lifts, fingers closing into a fist as a blue light begins to shine through the cracks. She opens her fingers slowly, as if she were showing a child a trick, and a blue ball of light slowly emerges from the palm of her hand. It illuminates the area, allowing Lynette to see pure white eyes; Reese was blind, that was a fact, her ability to get around without a stick however, was uncanny.

For a moment, Lynette has to wonder if she's dreaming. It is a distinct possibility that she's put so much junk into her body that she lost control over her oneiropathic abilities, after all. It's happened before. The girl pulls her legs up close, heels digging into the cement beneath her while she looks from Reese to the knocked out hipster boy, then back to Reese. She could tell what Hipster Boy was dreaming about. She couldn't, with Reese. That must mean that we are all still awake, right?

This realization suddenly sets in with the widening of Lynette's eyes. "Aw right, then? Some kind of magic show, eh?" She peers at Reese, feeling an unsettling sort of jive crawling up and down her back. "But I fail to see how a magic show is gonna help me, awright?"

Reese has been alive long enough to notice apprehension. Not fear, but apprehension, she could hear it in voices long before it's even realized, tell it in the shift in the air that rubs against her skin like a raw nerve. "I guess you can say that." She finally murmurs, leaning close enough to…

Grab her fuckin' shoulders so she doesn't move. Reese has lost her bedside manner when it came to healing decades ago. Being alive for nearly four hundred years does that to a person, you see things, feel things, not so much witness it all. Loss, being there when its too late, feeling life slip away.. yeah. So she has no time for pleasantries or any other sort of thing that would make her kindly to a person. She was losing her humanity.

That bright ball of blue light was then shoved towards Lynette's middle, and it was a spectacular feeling. When you hear a song or a voice that's particularly haunting or memorable, the feeling of that.. chill that goes up your spine? That's how it feels, intensified. It was like instant relief, each part of the body massaged and relieved of old aches and pains, the wound within Lynette's stomach disappearing along with whatever crap bacteria that could have gotten into it by the scrape. The little ball of light itself could be considered a drug, orgasmic euphoria all by the touch of a hand.

"Hey!" blurts out Lynette. "— the nerve, you fucking — OH!" The Scot was inches away from batting Reese away, when suddenly, that feeling takes over. It silences the girl — which is a difficult enough feat on its own — and draws her hazel-green eyes down toward the wound. Upon it she stares, disbelieving, as the skin begins knitting itself back together until a moment later, when it's gone.

Its all a bit much for Lynette. Her body weight slumps, and for a few moments she closes her eyes and trembles. Soon enough, however, a small laugh escapes, then, from behind a smile, she giggles. The effects of the booze, the coke, the nicotine withdrawal, it's all gone. And she doesn't need more! Opening her eyes, Lynette blushes and turns to look at Reese, silently unable to confess her thanks or admit that maybe, just maybe, she found some pleasure in the experience. No, Lynette merely angles her head curiously, red locks falling over her face while stifling back a wayward tear.

Reese held on tight; it was usually the shock of someone shoving something bright into your gut that usually gets a person. But she pushes that light in and backs away, hands lifting towards the air disarmingly, her head tilts so that she could listen to the woman -and- brace herself from being hit all at once.

The results came in, however.. and Lynette was happy. For a moment, the laughter -almost- causes a rare smile to form, the corner of her lips quirking and falling into place, hands soon lowering into her lap so that she could slide them to the ground to push herself upright to a full stand. She waits for a moment, still listening, then finally shrugs her shoulders. That was that.

All heals. No pleasure of a reach around.

"It's late. You should go home." Reese finally said, taking one slow and careful step back to create an about face turn to follow the path she had taken to get to Lynette, hands reaching out to feel for her cart once she reaches it.

Suddenly, Lynette finds herself feeling very, very cold. She shudders, and seems torn. Confused. Eyes dash from Reese to the snoozing hipster boy, then back to Reese again. In short order, she decidedly dashes back into the club. A pity, perhaps.

A minute later, however, Lynette returns. She's found her leather jacket, hat and gloves, and clomps over in those heels until she finds the cart Reese has gone back to. "Psst!" She raps her hand against the cart, as if knocking on the younger girl's door. "Hey! I, um… thanks." She bites her lower lip and takes a step back, not wanting to necessarily alarm the girl. One might go so far as to call it a moment of clarity for the pill popping sociopath, but for once, she doesn't find herself filled with malicious intent. How long this lasts is anyone's guess. "Quite a talent you got there, kiddo," she quips. "You, um, I mean…" She goes so far as to scuff her toe upon the ground. "I could return the favor. I could make your dreams come true." That… could easily be taken the wrong way, but odds are, the homeless girl has little to no idea just who she offered help to.

Just when Reese was settling in for a good nights rest before she heads back to her sandy camp, she was awoken with a light rapping upon her cart. She sits up slowly, pushing away the blankets which.. oddly enough, smells like dog food, a slight frown upon her features as her hand smacks against her face to rub herself awake.

This was odd really, she's hadn't really remembered what it was like to heal a drunk before, so the thanks and nice moment felt.. awkward. She didn't want to upset the woman however, so she 'forces' a smile, then offers up a shake of her head.

"I don't need anything, really." She was assuming that the lady wanted to take her home, feed her, give her a place to stay and force her into making a good living. She's been there, done that. The bed though? God.. she'd want that.

"Really. Just.. knowing that you're okay is good enough." Ugh. It pained her to say, but it was the damned truth. Someones one she hated to admit.

Lynette smirks. "Uh huh." She shakes her head and reaches into her purse, rummaging around until she comes up with a cell phone and charger. She quite stubbornly shoves it into the girl's cart, smirking. "Windsor hotel. Room 1832. If you tell the doorman you're with me, Shackleford, he won't be givin' ye any grief, understand?" She takes a step back, wiggles her fingers, and then rushes off into the night. She's got a train to catch!

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