Post by MATAHARI PETROVA on Sept 6, 2012 0:36:19 GMT -5
Parties had booze, booze meant a good time. Just because Mata was a party animal didn't mean she was---okay. Her train of thought wasn't perfectly form, so before she could even get to the party animal line, she was already on her next mode of transportation. All over New York there had been these dumb flyers, and people talking about some kind of Masquerade. And honestly? Something quite so fancy sounding was more than certain to be stuffy, boring and in a desperate need of a pick-me-up. And that pick-me-up was coming in the form of a scrawny, skinny girl who's eyes looked absolutely inhuman framed in the black mask around her eyes.
There was no way she was going in a full gown--that would be impractical. Plus, if she found a totally hot piece of lady--she needed to be able to get out of her clothes fast so she could make that lovely lady howl at the moon. Aroo. So, a shredded tartan dress that looked like it had been dragged behind a truck on the freeway, an equally torn up lace undershirt, and matching stockings--not ripped. She was painful to look at in the way that your eyes weren't entirely sure where to look. Thick black fingerless gloves reached almost to her elbows, and rather than slinky heels--heavy, thick platform boots hugged her ankle and lower calf. She was fun to look at, almost like a doll--and yet it seemed to be almost too much. Her dark hair had been straightened into submission, with ehr bangs resting heavily over equally dark brows that brushed the top of the mask.
Matahari placed one hand upon her hip, checked her lipstick then went for the cab waiting outside. See--driving was not something she had learned to master. She preferred chasing cars, and it was a bit hard to focus on just one thing when all those wonderful trees were just whizzing by. Therefore, she had never focused long enough to pass a driving test. On a regular occasion, walking to places didn't bother her--it was effortless and she liked the taste of fresh air. But tonight she was not going to live in the lap of luxury. That meant that slick, squeaky, stale smelling seats of a yellow taxi cab. The entire ride--she attempted to make conversation. Asking if anyone had given birth in here, what the driver's favorite food was. Mata had even leaned between the seats to make conversing either--but it only seemed to proceed in making the driver uncomfortable. What a wet tire.
Arriving, Mata dropped the bills onto the passenger seat, "Word of advice dude. Don't be so lame." That sucked. What a kill joy (GEDDIT ALICE?). After flashing an ID, Matahari was allowed into the building, and she felt almost immediately overwhelmed. Too much, way too much. Luckily, she had a decent grasp on things--but that didn't mean all the different voices, music and sounds weren't a bit much. And then the smells. Perfumes, deoderants, food, fabrics...and those nasty hint of people that decided not to use soap. The different smells all but burned her little nostrils--but one stood out more than the rest. No way. No, no way. Almost as though it were a cartoon, and the scent hooked its ghostly fingers into her nose, Mata felt as though she was being dragged towards the food table, specifically to a beautiful, steaming platter that looked like it had been just brought out.
Cute little legs, lamb chops to be exact. She knew that smell anywhere. She knew what it would taste like before she even bit into one. She would grip the bone to hold onto it, while her teeth would tear into the soft, juicy meat. Almost sweet, tender--and the pinker the better. It hardly needed seasoning and garnish--honestly, it would have been better if it were just torn from the poor sheep's body and dumped on a plate. "Swanky." She grinned, before each one of her hands swept up a lamb chop, biting into the succulant meat. When was the last time she had lamb? Too long ago. It was a delicacy, and unless she felt like hiking her happy ass out to the outskirts of New York City, her wallet rarely allowed enough space to be able to afford lamb.
She could feel the few eyes on her as she alternated bites between the two pieces in her hand, dropping a very nearly cleaned bone into a pile, before eyeing the bones. Actually, some of those bones still had meat on them. Not cleaned properly at all. Tiny shreds of meat still clinging to them. PArt of her wanted to pick up that giant bowl, and just parade out of the room with them and gnaw on them until the flavor was gone. However, that would be a little absurd. Not absurd enough to completely abandon the idea, but enough that she had to force herself to pick up a new one and push the idea to the back of her mind. If she had to, she would eat every last one until her dress was threatening to burst at the seams.
Just when she felt as though the night couldn't get better, something else caught her nose. It wasn't delicious in the way the lambchops were. But familiar, almost. Muffling a small rumble in her throat, with another bite of the lamb chop, her eyes narrowed while they glanced around. Her usual wide-eyed, shiney eyes were suddenly much more predatory. Calculating. Her sense of smell wasn't as spot-on, but she could pick out the stronger smells. Ones she was used to. And the past two months, six days total--she had become aquainted with one of those smells. After cleaning the bone, she wiped her fingers on a napkin, before abandoning her precious lamb chops to follow that almost musky scent. A taller girl, with black hair that was just as inky as her own. A thicker build, not scrawny. Mata's body didn't reflect what it housed, but this woman was powerful. Strong. An inside voice made Mata want to belly-crawl her way over to the woman at the other end of the food table--but they were friends!
She had to remember. Those nights of chillin out in the park, killing rabbits and shit. The thick black wolf that Mata had taken to calling Blackie, and the snowy white wolf with blue eyes that matched her human ones. If Mata could recognize Blackie, then Blackie totally had to recognize her. Without thinking otherwise, Mata nearly bounced the rest of the way to Blackie's side and bumped her shoulder with her own skinny one. "Hey there, foxy lady. Wolfy lady, aroo. Find any sneaky rabbits today, Blackie?" Mata glanced up, before peeking down at the table, and plucking a chip from the bowl. She sniffed it curiously. Did she really want to wash the taste of thoise perfect lamb chops away quite so soon? Before she could fully process, the chip was in her mouth being crunched into oblivion.
---
Tags: Alice / Mona
Words: 1,187. Holy fuck.
Notes: Lemme know if I need to change anything.
Outfit: Click meh.
