Tangled Up In You {Blakeleigh}

[AISHA]

In Aisha’s own mind—she had lost everything. She didn’t have much to begin with, and she spent most of her life without a family. It shouldn’t be anything new—but to suddenly have the comfort of Max, Alex, Cassie, and occasionally Kiddo—then have it all disappear was a shock to her system. It made her believe that there was no way that happiness could exist in the world for someone like her. The added shadow of a girl in white with a rope around her neck following Aisha wherever she went, didn’t help either. The woman said her name was La Esmeralda, but that didn’t mean much to Aisha. She had no idea who the woman was, and when she said she was from a book—Aisha simply laughed her off. Aisha could barely read. The short time with her first family didn’t include reading, and she had never needed to know more than the basics. She would have asked Max to read her the story, or tell it to her—but he had disappeared.

So, Aisha was alone. And the best way to cure loneliness? Surround yourself with people. Aisha rummaged in her bags and pulled on a pair of very short, damaged shorts along with a crop-top that flowed ever so nicely and showed off her tanned, toned stomach. Like a terrible reminder of why she was abandoned, she slipped the evil-eye ring onto her finger. The gold still had little scratches in it from Promie’s teeth when he kidnapped the ring from her bag ages ago. Done up the best she was going to get, Aisha left her home in Central Park. Her long hair bounced and swayed past her shoulders, and down her back. The woman moved as though she was lighter than air, the boots encasing her legs forcing her to swing her hips while the muscles in her legs rippled.

A life of dancing and a life of running gave Aisha a toned frame. She was no delicate thing, and though she wasn’t over-built she still had a fit tone. She slid into the club after talking to the bouncer for a moment, and immersed herself in the blinding lights and the music. Drinks weren’t on the menu for tonight, at least not yet. Instead, she went straight for the dance floor, watching the bodies grind and pulse with each other. That wasn’t dancing. Her fingers glided over people while she made her way through the crowd, feeling the music in her veins. Dancing was her life, quite literally. It kept her in shape and healthy, but it also earned her a bit of money in Central Park. Finally, with enough space, she let the music flood through her.

Aisha’s entire body swayed, moved, taking the music and making it her own. It was just her in that world, a few people moving out of her way, too afraid to touch the girl with the closed eyes. She didn’t stop, and if anything—she swung harder into the music. Frustration, sadness—all of it working out into her dance. In the heat of the club, her bronze skin began to glimmer with a slight sweat, her untamable curls sticking to her cheeks. When she did open her eyes—the point of the ring on her finger made much more sense. Aisha’s eyes were blue, but not just any blue. It was like the sky had jumped straight into her eyes; a luminous, vivid blue. A blue that people only seemed to achieve with digital editing, or contacts. Aisha had her very own evil-eye embedded into her skull, and the lights from above only made the color that more shocking. She turned her head up towards the ceiling while she danced, as though it was there. No one was there, no one was touching her. She was high as the sky.

OUTFIT

[AISHA]

Aisha didn’t get caught off guard very often. The last time she could remember getting thrown off her game was when she first met Max. But that was about to be erased now. She wasn’t use to the soft voice of a woman asking to dance with her. Aisha actually took the sight of the woman in front of her and felt like she had been hit right between the eyes. That hadn’t happened before, and she was left gaping at the blonde woman for a moment. Aisha was cool, collected—if not a bit cold. Defensive usually. She snapped her mouth shut, and her expression went back to the aforementioned expression. Relaxed. This was her element more than anyone else in the club.

“Only if you think you can keep up.” One dark brow raised up in almost a challenge. Though, she did have a hard time taking her eyes off the woman. There was something familiar about her, something very, very familiar. She looked nothing like Max, or Cassie, or Alex. She had that clean, polished, finished look that Aisha typically hated people for. Aisha looked clean, but her hair was tangled—having seen nothing but hand-soap in a very long time. She was cleaned, but she had a dark tan from being out in the sun most of the day, and her clothes looked a bit worn. Her hands were rough, fingernails short. There was something hard worked about the black haired woman. Something weathered. And yet, as vibrant and beautiful as the blonde looked in front of her, Aisha couldn’t muster up enough anger or frustration at this person.

She felt almost ashamed to reach her hand out and take the other woman’s. She lived in the sewers, for goodness sakes. She slept on an old mattress piled with old blankets and sheets. There was a half-built stage in the main room, and there had to be a fire-pit down there for warmth. This woman probably had a nice bed, with a nice room, and central air. Despite the embarrassed flushed that came onto Aisha’s tanned cheeks, she carefully lead the woman in closer, staring up at her. “Before I reveal all, how about you show me what you’ve got up your sleeve?” She questioned, fixing those luminous eyes on her.

Could this woman dance? Did this woman know what she was doing? Aisha slid her gaze away, hearing Esmeralda’s whisper in her ear. She couldn’t make out the French-woman’s voice in her ear over the music. It was different for two people to dance to this kind of music that didn’t involve pressing all up on each other. However, after another look at the girl that had offered to dance with her—Aisha was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind having her that close.

OUTFIT

[AISHA]

Taking the challenge made Aisha lift the corner of her mouth in a little smile. Professional? Aisha would classify herself as a professional, she had been dancing for as long as she could remember. It started with the family she had vague memories of, and turned into something more important. Something for her to survive, to make money. So when she had to dance like her life depended on it—it was painfully true. Aisha’s dark brow lifted slightly, watching the blonde’s hips twist and swing to the music. Aisha took her hand and stepped into her body, flashing a bright smile at her.

“I suppose that’ll do.” She teased, and pushed her own inky black curls over her shoulder, her own hips moving to the music, only it was different now. She wasn’t on her own. Their legs were laced; one of Aisha’s legs on either side of the blonde’s, and with her hips she guided her. It didn’t feel like just that obscene pressing against each other that half of the club seemed to be doing. It felt like something more, otherwise Aisha wouldn’t have even bothered. Dancing was a way to speak in many cultures, and it wasn’t any different from Aisha. Sometimes it was easier to just dance, than to speak.

She turned those luminous blue eyes at the other woman, giving her the full impact of the stare that had outcasted her from her original family. “Have I warranted your name?” She asked curiously. Aisha could flirt, but it didn’t feel like so much with this other woman. She was desperately trying to keep her cool, even though she was shaking from the inside. She could hear an excited French murmur in the back of her head that belonged only to La Esmeralda. However, over the music, again, Aisha couldn’t understand what her constant companion was saying, and for the most part—she didn’t care. The dead woman was insanely frustrating and irritating.

OUTFIT

[AISHA]

Aisha was interested, to say the least. It was a little different to be interested in the woman like she was, but Aisha wasn’t exactly going to ignore it. Not in the lonely state that she was currently in; she couldn’t afford to turn this woman away. However, she wasn’t entirely sure that she would have been able to turn her away. Blakeleigh, she said her name was. Blake for short. Her born name wanted to roll off her tongue; right away she wanted to introduce herself as Alexania Korzofick, part Romanian Romani, part Who-Knows-What. However, her name fell clumsily from her lips, “Aisha. My name is Aisha.” She smiled brightly at her, though inside she was kicking her own sorry ass. In her own mind, she was trying to understand why Blake seemed to make all her wires cross. This woman made her feel confused, and not at all put together as she often pretended to be.

Aisha allowed herself to be pulled in to the other woman, her own hands skimming down Blake’s sides, no longer worried about dirtying the woman. It was an irrational fear, but it was soothed by the fact that Aisha’s mind was quickly sinking. She was going home with this one, which would secure her a shower. Maybe Blake would be ever so understanding, and allow Aisha a shower before anything else happened. Maybe…just maybe Aisha wouldn’t make it out of the shower alone. The idea made a grin spill across her face, her fingers hooking through the decorative belt around Blake’s waist, and pulled her in closer.

The club was slowly eliminated; the other people fading to the back of her mind while she focused more on Blake. She made herself stop worrying about the fumbles, and her own awkwardness. Aisha Nuri was not awkward, dammit. And with that final thought, she seemed to spill further out of her shell while her hips moved with Blake’s, guiding the woman’s along with her. She was unaware of the catcalls, and unaware of the eyes. All she even took notice of was Blake; and in doing so, Aisha had a very, very difficult time looking away from Blake’s face.

OUTFIT