† Needle and thread † [auction - Drusilla]
Posted: 13 Nov 2013, 16:56
((note: started here instead of the necro because the characters probably won't stay in the necro))
"Hark! I hear the sound. I hear it now. Zips and things, buttons and strings." Thistle sang and danced to the bank promptly after the end of the Auction.
"Ka-Ching!" It was time to seek out the fashionista that she wagered for against Olive. Once done, she would play catchup with that women as well.
Thistle viewed herself as a unique commoner. Not necessarily outside of the box, but a stamp on the side of it. She was no better off than that of a street rat and knew when to be one and when to show pride in the fact she knew how to live. Blame her parents for the lavish mark left upon an interior section of her brain. Stories aside for now; Thistle had a taste for fashion. The taste was reflected through extravagant styles, odd material and trinkets with splashes of bling. In truth, she hid away her tougher side with masks of over-sized grunge clothing. The look separated the girl from the rest of the in-crowd and kept her far from the everyday bum on the street. Call it what you want; Thistle had her own style and she loved it.
A sly grin turned up the corners to round cheeks as she stepped over the threshold of The Necropolis nightclub. Ivory fingers tapped burnt orange painted nails against her thigh in a rhythmic tone as she crossed the checkered floor to find Drusilla. From the moment Thistle read the women's auction card she knew she had to have her, her talent that is. Her own personal tailor for a little while. Thistle had no care in the world what would transpire afterwards; friend or foe. Time would soon tell if the little seamstress good at what she did or would the vampire wear drips of blood poking through the fabric like cheesecloth for Halloween? Even if it turned out that way, it was not a complete failure. This time of year many folks came dressed in all shapes, sizes and themes. Thistle wanted to be a bit more unique.
A quick walk around the gigantic club led her to the backside of a women who matched the description on the auction card in which she paid. Thistle flicked a few blonde tresses behind her shoulder. Copper bracelets jingled as they shifted from beneath her right wrist. Her forefinger tapping the seamstresses left shoulder.
"Penny for a prick." Thistle mused. A brief laugh in the closing of the symbolic phrase since Thistle just dumped a small sum of money in the women's account.
The shadow stepped to her side and held out a hand for introductions. "Name's Thistle. Happy Halloween and all that jazz."
"Hark! I hear the sound. I hear it now. Zips and things, buttons and strings." Thistle sang and danced to the bank promptly after the end of the Auction.
"Ka-Ching!" It was time to seek out the fashionista that she wagered for against Olive. Once done, she would play catchup with that women as well.
Thistle viewed herself as a unique commoner. Not necessarily outside of the box, but a stamp on the side of it. She was no better off than that of a street rat and knew when to be one and when to show pride in the fact she knew how to live. Blame her parents for the lavish mark left upon an interior section of her brain. Stories aside for now; Thistle had a taste for fashion. The taste was reflected through extravagant styles, odd material and trinkets with splashes of bling. In truth, she hid away her tougher side with masks of over-sized grunge clothing. The look separated the girl from the rest of the in-crowd and kept her far from the everyday bum on the street. Call it what you want; Thistle had her own style and she loved it.
A sly grin turned up the corners to round cheeks as she stepped over the threshold of The Necropolis nightclub. Ivory fingers tapped burnt orange painted nails against her thigh in a rhythmic tone as she crossed the checkered floor to find Drusilla. From the moment Thistle read the women's auction card she knew she had to have her, her talent that is. Her own personal tailor for a little while. Thistle had no care in the world what would transpire afterwards; friend or foe. Time would soon tell if the little seamstress good at what she did or would the vampire wear drips of blood poking through the fabric like cheesecloth for Halloween? Even if it turned out that way, it was not a complete failure. This time of year many folks came dressed in all shapes, sizes and themes. Thistle wanted to be a bit more unique.
A quick walk around the gigantic club led her to the backside of a women who matched the description on the auction card in which she paid. Thistle flicked a few blonde tresses behind her shoulder. Copper bracelets jingled as they shifted from beneath her right wrist. Her forefinger tapping the seamstresses left shoulder.
"Penny for a prick." Thistle mused. A brief laugh in the closing of the symbolic phrase since Thistle just dumped a small sum of money in the women's account.
The shadow stepped to her side and held out a hand for introductions. "Name's Thistle. Happy Halloween and all that jazz."