Sewer Shenanigans (Open)

[Atabei Narcisse]

The upside down triangle framed chestnut skin toned woman peeled herself into the pair of dark denim trousers that she tried to wipe clean from soot and ash. The evidence of dirt still remained, but most the ash had been wiped clean, or smeared and made unrecognizable, unless a person really knew what they were looking at. What they were looking for.

The jeans were a little big around her hips, so came to rest at her pelvic bone region, indicating that she wore nothing under the jeans-not that it bothered the woman. With the zipper secured in place, Atabei kicked her barefeet at the remainder of the ash, trying to disperse it all over the room and not just in one place.

She didn’t feel one way or another about the series of events that had unfolded. Atabei didn’t mind sharing the place she found, but she had made it known that it was a very temporary situation. That this was going to be her place, but night after night for about a week in length, the other vampire returned. So Atabei waited for the prime opportunity, which was not long after sunset. Atabei always woke early and started her practices early too, while the other woman slept in. Never bothered by the heavy creaking of the coffin scraping against the cement floor. Never stirring while Atabei dismembered a chicken, or pig to pay her sacrifice to the lwa she choose to dedicate her night to.

So while the woman slept, Atabei made her move. No one would miss her. If they had, the other vampire would have left by now. She never talked about anything, other than a type of bird-A crow, but it was all meaningless to Atabei. Her lwa would never be pleased with offerings from a mangy bird like crows, so the Haitian woman disregarded the woman’s incoherent babblings. It was on the third insert of an old rusted blade that inserted the woman’s throat that she woke up and tried to push Atabei off her. The other woman just kept raising the blade and shoving it into the woman’s chest cavity before the woman more or less exploded into nothing more than what was on the very pants Atabei had just pulled on. “Shulda paid da werds sum mind. Told yas to mo’v ‘long.” It was destined to be, for if it hadn’t been, the woman would have escaped before she was killed, or Atabei would have been the one dead, not just covered in superficial scratches on her arms and neck.

The woman rubbed at the scratches, feeling the minor irritation and burn of newly torn skin, but they paled in comparison to the wounds on her back, shoulders, and back of her legs; the latter being covered with the jeans. Atabei rubbed at the deeper wounds that bit her flesh so many centuries ago, trying to bring them a moment of comfort to stop the stinging of each wound that would never fully heal. Wounds that trickled with blood after the woman roused from her slumber within the coffin she took from the graveyard from the north of the city.

“Furst, da rings. Den da meal. Gots to git go’n. Too much time wast’n away already.” Atabei said as she wiped at the bottoms of her feet, clearing the tops of the ash from the other woman. She pondered saving this ash and offering it to the lwa as she drew their veves, but the thought was abolished from her mind as she realized how that might upset some of the lwas. “Just wun’ do.” She shook her head, her frizzy, bouncing curls shaking with her as Atabei left the small alcove that was hers in pursuit of things to make the lwa’s happy. Maybe something just like the rings Harmony had given her.

what she's wearing