Dazed and Confused [Aksel]

[Trinity]

Digging her fingers through her bag, Trinity gave a half smile as she tucked her phone between her cheek and shoulder. “I know, sis. I know, but I had to—No, I prom—“ Shaking her head, she laughed quietly and pulled out her gloss, fingers spinning it around absently as she waited for a break in Annabelle’s tirade. It was a usual conversation, one-sided and panicked. Ever since her sister had gotten engaged, it had been nothing but mayhem back home. Now, tucked in some off the map city in Canada, thousands of miles away, she realized she still couldn’t escape. Since when had inventing a cell phone been a good idea? She seriously debated on going back in time and begging the inventor to find something more useful.

“Do you hear me, Trin?!” The shrill voice brought her back from her thoughts, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she uncapped the dark gloss and slid the applier smoothly over her lips. “I heard you. Antonio’s mother not liking you doesn’t mean your wedding is ruined, Anne. It just means you need to kill her with kindness.” Her advice was followed with the laugh she’d been aiming for, and she heard her sister release a heavy sigh. “Come home soon, okay? We miss you,” her older sister whispered, before the line went dead. Shaking her head, she tucked the phone into the pocket of her black jeans and groaned.

Annabelle was two years older, but no one would believe it the way they acted with each other. Though Trinity was the wild and reckless one, something about Annabelle’s dramatic, childish ways caused her to have to step up. Leaving her in the middle of her wedding planning was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but she just couldn’t stand another moment in Chile. Not with him there. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she shook out the long, golden curls and crinkled her nose. How could she tell them she’d never be returning home? She couldn’t handle the simple thought of her sister’s expression. She wouldn’t have to see it to feel the pain in her chest.

Nothing had turned out like it was supposed to.

She’d spent her entire life in Chile, and now she was staying in the middle of some place called ‘Harper Rock’ with nothing but a map and a few hundred dollars in cash. She’d gone from the high life of maids and feather beds, to sleeping on a wooden bench in some deserted park. Her life had plummeted because of one more mistake she’d made. Typical Trinity Skye, the World’s Most Reckless Blonde! What else could she do now, though? After the attack, she’d been changed. It’d only been a few days, and she could already tell that it wasn’t a dream. If it was, it was one she was never going to wake from. Tate had made it as easy on her as she could. She got her weapons, money and a place to stay – but it wasn’t the same.

Nothing was the same.

“Get a grip, Trin,” she sighed, fingers pressing to her jaw as she scanned the building names in front of her. It’d been almost two days since she’d been attacked in the sewers, and she found herself scarcely using them. It made her process all the more difficult, considering they were the only way to get to the Quarantine Zone. Well, unless she was one of those special vampires that could jump or teleport around like they were Superman. “Nope, I’m just the lame vampire that can’t get people to shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself off the bench and headed down the street. There had to be a bar around here. It was a city full of vampires.

What else did they do in their free time of Eternity?

As she walked, she tried to ignore the voices pounding at her skull. The thoughts were like gnats, the constant buzzing making it impossible for her to really gather just one or two. However, it was more the sounds that made her life more difficult. She usually kept to a quiet, secluded part of the city, but it made her crazy. She couldn’t be alone with herself any longer, the pulsing, constant silence surrounding her, and yet… she was never alone. Not truly. The voices were always there, pushing into her brain and filling her head with every memory, every thought, every sound but her own. There were times when she didn’t know what was her and what was another being.
Gritting her teeth, the blonde put her hand to her temple and curled her fingers into her scalp.

She needed a drink, and badly. Lifting her gaze to the signs once more, she tried to read the names through the blurs, but only one seemed to really matter to her. Quickly pressing her hand to the door, she swung it open and stumbled inside, fingers fumbling for her wallet to pull out her ATM card. There was only a few hundred bucks on there, and she knew she should save it for blood, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t stop the constant buzzing, she’d never survive another night in this godforsaken town. Pressing a few buttons to on the screen, she slammed her fist against the plastic casing when the error message popped up, alerting her that the pass code was wrong.

“It’s not wrong,” she muttered as she tapped at the keys slower until she heard the whirring as it flipped out some cash for her. Crumbling the bills up in her fist, she ignored the onslaught of sound as she – very ungracefully – made her way to the bar. How had she fallen so low? All she had to do was tell the truth, and she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be dead. She’d be lounging by the pool in the sun, enjoying a nice, quiet summer. Instead, she was trying to hold her head together with her hand as she slammed by alcohol to quiet the voices and deny her own insanity even longer.

God, her life sucked.

[Pi dArtois]

“I’ve left the kitchen.” She said into her cellphone, leaving said kitchen behind her with the slam of the door and the muttering of the short order chef behind the door. “Prep hadn’t finished and service starts in an hour, what is wrong with that woman Elliot?” she growled down the phone.

“Yes, you’re probably right. I’ll see you soon?” she replied, coming out from the kitchen area and into the main part of Lancaster’s with sigh of relief. Thumbing the phone call to an end she flipped the cover closed and placed the device into the pocket of her skirt, letting it fall into the deep pockets. Of course she’d see him soon, it was Friday. She asked anyway, because she liked to hear his voice and because… well, just because.

It’s not that Pi necessarily wanted to control everything that went on in the kitchen so much as she was endlessly fascinated with the mechanics of what made it click. She didn’t try to control what they were doing so much as want to learn all of it, from the ground up. She loved the manic feel of that part of Lancaster’s when service was on. Everyone knew their place, their timing, their part of the cog that made the wheel turn around.

Of course she knew it sounded like she was complaining about the chef but the truth was, okay, maybe the truth was she was moaning but it was needed. Prep really wasn’t done and diners would soon be ordering from the dinner menu and that was something to be aware of on a Friday night when they got the biggest after five crowd. The truth could also be that she knew just enough about what ran a kitchen to be dangerous; ie bossy and nosey.

Leaning against the bar she gave the servers a smile, juggling out of their way as they veered to the bar to place their orders or pick up their drink orders from the pass through.

She should probably help. She always felt a bit guilty when she was in the bar and wasn’t actively doing something to help, especially on nights like this when it was bound to be busy and was already starting to pick up. Looking around the place she wondered how many of those that lingered were people who had taken a long … long, long lunch. Probably more than was healthy.

Night had fallen and with it the crowds milled around tables. Friends from offices or work sites within walking distance chucking down a social bottle or cocktail before heading back to their night lives, husbands, children or empty apartments.

She enjoyed this part of owning a place like this, and on nights when she had time to think about it, she could see why Elliot loved it so much. It wasn’t always her cup of tea. Sometimes the noise did her head in and she needed to find a quiet corner to get away from it. But there were other times, like tonight when it was nice to just watch (despite her concerns about the kitchen and their prep).

So she did. Sit and watch that is.