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Post by PETER DIMITRI FEDEROV on Jan 28, 2011 4:59:46 GMT -5
* things it yearns to remember , It was nearly midnight but the streets and bars were far from quiet. Boisterous men and boys alike were wondering the streets, not able to manage straight lines after the partying. They yelled at each other though there was no distance in between them. Many were accompanied but young, heavily made up women wearing skirts that were definitely on the short side of the scale. Marcdavis District was not one that people took lightly. The people that hung around that part of Fantasia were not good company and parents tried their best to protect their children from those kinds of people.
Devil’s Bayou was very busy that night. The line for the night club was out the door and the bouncers were finding it difficult to control the various pub crawlers. Many of the men that waited outside in the line had been to various other bars previously and were already drunk beyond recognition. At the front of the line a young man stood with two women on either side of him. They whispered softly into his hear and he laughed in reply, looking the bouncer up and down with cloudy eyes. He was clearly drunk, and the women with him were both blonde and wearing incredibly indecent outfits. He held them tight to his sides, as if he were worried that someone would come and drag them away from him.
Finally the bouncer moved and unclipped the rope moving aside to let them through. “Thank you very much sir,” the young man said in a fake British accent though it was clear that there was a deep Russian tone to it. The girls beside him laughed and he turned around to kiss one of them on the ear. The three then proceeded to walk into the night club, wincing a little at the loud music. They were blasting something by Kesha, it sounded like, and everyone was in the centre of the club dancing. Dimitri turned to look at the girl on his left and they brought their lips together for just a second. The girl on his right looked annoyed and pulled the others over to the bar, where they all three grabbed a drink. Dimitri had no idea what the girl handed him but he felt the strong taste of the alcohol. It was familiar to him and he liked it. His drink was gone within a few minutes and soon another one was in his hand.
One of the blonde girls disappeared and Dimitri found himself dancing with the other. After a while though, he decided that this girl simply was not the one for him. His memory was clouded and his judgement hindered but in his mind he kept seeing a flash of red hair and the cheekiest smile. The eyes he saw burned into him as if with betrayal. He knew then who he was seeing, the one he had been searching for. It had been so long since he had last seeing Anya and he knew that he was so close to finding her. Still, there he was with this other girl and Anya was somewhere else in Fantasia. Shaking his head, Dimitri pushed the blonde girl away and walked out onto the street.
Standing outside the night club, he wondered how strange he would look to some people. Many woman shot him flirty glances but he simply turned away. His head was spinning, visions of that young girl floating through him. He could not bear to be with anyone else but her. His stomach was in knots and all at once it let go. He walked down a narrow side street and was sick. Wiping the vomit from his mouth he turned back and started to walk down the dark streets of the district. He knew that he would not be able to make it home feeling like that but he hoped that sooner or later he would come to a comfortable looking piece of sidewalk that he could sit on.
A few men yelled at him from inside a passing car and he simply threw up his middle finger, the sickness tainting his tongue and mind. He wanted to just be back in Russia with Anya and his parents. Wait no, not his parents. Those two people were the ones that had ruined his life. Sometimes he just wished that he and Anya had stayed together, had come to Fantasia together. Dimitri regretted his reckless actions every day but it was the only thing that kept his thoughts away from Anya. He wondered what she looked like now, what she was doing with her life, if she had a boyfriend. There were so many questions he needed to ask but first he needed to find her to do so.
The young man hardly realised when his legs buckled from underneath him and he lay backwards, leaning on a brick wall on the side of the street, darkness filling his vision.
W O R D S eight twenty nine T A G cait C L O T H E S click L Y R I C S once upon a december from anastasia N O T E S he's so messed up right now...
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Post by CAITLYN MARIE POTTS on Jan 28, 2011 18:33:10 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,308,true] Caitlyn Potts was worried. Which wasn’t a surprise when it came to one Peter Dimitri Federov. The boy (yes, boy, he wasn’t qualified to be called a man) was a constant source of worry for the brunette. He was a mess. Wether he wanted to admit it or not was a different story, but Caitlyn knew it. She had witnessed enough, heard enough of his stories to know things were not alright for her friend. The thing was though, Caitlyn felt the cause of most of his issues were deep seeded emotional things- that is to say, things she was incapable of fixing. Which made it all the more difficult for Caitlyn to truly help. She did what she could. Made sure he didn’t end up ay pigfarts (that’s on mars) while in a drunken frenzy when she could. Got him home and got some black coffee into him. It was all good things, but she still felt like she should be doing more.
On this particular night, it was his drunken texting that had spurred on Caitlyn’s worry. About an hour ago the boy had texted her some garbled message about how he had picked up a nice pair of pickled figs. The girl hadn’t known how to take it. Had he actually brought some figs? Was it a typo, or maybe he was trying to be funny? She really had no idea. The wording of the text had been enough to tip Caitlyn off to the fact that he was probably drunk though. Which was why she was worried. He was probably going to end up passed out in a ditch somewhere unless she found him and ushered him home. That, or making some particularly bad choices involving surfing and turfing some drunk girl. Which would have been a bad choice for both. It wasn’t like Dimitri was a bad guy, and the wrong choice for any girl. It was just that Cait felt those sort of decisions should be made sober.
A sigh passed her lips as she drummed her fingers against the wooden table she was sitting at. The last thing the young woman really felt like doing was to go out. Long before she had gotten the text message had she settled in for the night. Pyjama pants had been put on and she had settled into the couch to watch a movie. However when the text had come, the young woman couldn’t settle. In fact she’d turned the tv off and was now sitting at the kitchen table, nervously tapping her fingers. “Motherchucker..” she let out under her breath. There was nothing for it- She was just going to have to go find him. For her own piece of mind as well as his well-being. Getting up, the young woman made her way to her bedroom. Pyjamas coming off and jeans and a sweater coming on. Grabbing shoes and keys, she was out the door.
The night was chilly, and the young woman wished she’d worn a thicker coat as she slipped out of the cab. The Marcdavis district of town was not one Caitlyn felt comfortable with at night on her own, however it was the most obvious place to start looking for her friend. Closing the door, her dark eyes focussed on the cab as it drove away. Taking a deep breath to ready herself for the task ahead. It didn’t take Caitlyn long to find the man. And when she did, Caitlyn felt her stomach twist. “Ooh gosh..” she murmured, chewing on her lip as she dashed across the road, towards Dimitri. Kneeling down, she bit her lip. Placing a hand on his neck to first feel his pulse. “Dimitri?” She said softly, trying to keep panic from her voice.
C O U N T, 629 N O T E S, it's not great, sorry pumkin
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Post by PETER DIMITRI FEDEROV on Feb 15, 2011 2:32:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,320,true] | A hand was on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Eyes snapped open, slightly bloodshot and frantically searching everywhere. All he could see was a blinding light and he was trying to figure out what it was. Everything seemed to be a blur and he could not figure out who was beside him. He could almost taste the distress in the air but then he realised that it was simply his blood. Swallowing it he wondered if it was really his own blood. Maybe he had instead been turned into a vampire. He hoped to God that if he was now a vampire he was certainly not a sparkly one like in Twilight. He much preferred the vampires that were like Dracula. The light kept shining on him and for a few seconds he thought he may be dead, and not actually a vampire. Of course, that would never really be possible, because if he had died he would probably be rotting in hell anyway. He had no place in Heaven with eternal happiness and angels and all that crap. He did not deserve even the fires of hell.
Dimitri heard a soft murmur beside his ear and he moaned in response. He thought he recognised the voice but was not too sure. He vaguely remembered a phrase that he had once heard in that same voice. It was a while ago, he did not know when, but he knew it had something to do with him. “Ooh gosh,” he mumbled, trying to remember if that was it. “Maybe oh gosh, not ooh. Ooh is too funny, just not right,” he laughed to himself. The words were slurred with is drunkenness and the Russian accent did not help at all either. He grinned stupidly and turned his face to the side.
The light was suddenly blocked out and he could roughly make out the shape of a face beside him. His tongue rolled out of his mouth in a dumb expression as he looked over at the woman. She was a few years older than him and he knew her face well. She was rather pretty too, he noticed. “Bow-chicka-wow-wow!” Dimitri drawled, laughing like a little child that had eaten too many chocolates. He recalled another kind of food that he had particularly liked as a child. He turned around and completely faced the woman he now remembered to be Cait. His voice turned childish as he spoke. “Heya Caity! How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? I really feel like one now but I don’t know if I can be bothered to take the time to find the center.” Dimitri had no idea what he was saying, in fact, it did not register to him that he was saying anything. He could not hear himself speak and instead his mind was filled with a loud pounding noise and a sharp pain.
Running a hand through his hair he looked back over at Cait. “Oi, where’d you come from?” Dimitri drawled out in a rather rude manner. The alcohol had completely taken effect and he knew that he was losing control now. He wondered why he let himself get this far and why he could not exercise self-restraint. Perhaps it was because his parents had always lacked it or perhaps it was just because that was how he was. Cait knew that better than anyone and for some reason she did not seem to care. As he looked up at her he realised that she was always there for him. She always seemed able to help him out. He could tell by the way her hair was that she had been ready to settle in for the night before she had come out here. It led him to wonder why she had come out here in the first place. This district was not a good one for women and he knew that twice as well as the next person.
“How’d ya find me Caity?” Dimitri murmured, his head spinning from the use of oxygen. He sat up slightly but his head started to pound harder and so he leaned back once more. The concrete was cold and he realised that his jacket was missing. He could have sworn he had it with him before. His hand slid to the pocket of his jeans, where he noted the familiar bump of his phone and wallet. Good, that was still safe. Dimitri did not feel like losing anything else that night. Turning back to Cait he shot her an apologetic glance but he felt his face contort differently. “Take me home.”
W O R D S seven hundred eighty one T A G cait C L O T H E S click M U S E pretty good for once N O T E S sorry for the uber wait nikki dear
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