Kisten
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Thread: Kisten

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    Kisten



    " I will never taste your kind of death, I am only here to feed it to you."

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    "fuckface" irritable. "give me some got damned room."

    A coffee shop. Not a likely place to find a foul mouthed, gun toting, inked, woman. At least not one that was making such a display of her collected talents. Six years of grudge holding would do it to even the most mild tempered.

    Ignoring the jaw dropped stares of the surrounding customers, she ordered a drink. Coffee without special juice. How ordinary and boring. On-Duty. And luckily the fellow had moved far enough away, her quick turn and retreat from the crowded shop could have put anyone in danger.

    Anger, resentment, icy attitude and an uncaring mouth. And this was many days in the past, and likely many days in the future.

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    Members do not see advertisements
    Kisten
    The phone rang seven times before being answered, the dull hum of activity outside her window having been ignored until now. Dreams still hazing a sleepy state..

    "Cole?"

    But it wasn't Cole, it never was. And it would likely never be.

    "It's Brandon. Wake up, you lazy bitch."

    And though the tone of his voice suggested a teasing manner, an unamused snarl was unseen by the male on the recieving end.

    "Fuck, Bran. What could you possibly need to call me for at...." a pause to check the blurry digits of a nightstand clock.." seven am?"

    The silence hung in the air longer than neccessary, an awkward laugh finally travelling through wires from miles and miles away. Begrudgingly, heavily lidded eyes focused on the pale cream ceiling above, the silence again stretching.

    And finally..."What the fuck do you want, Bran?"

    There was plenty of love shared between the two, brother and sister. But anyone making such an early call to the night prowler likely recieved the same treatment. There wasn't enough coffee and cigarettes in the world to give incentive to rise early. And grouchy was the thing to be so early in a day.

    She heard the intake of breath, leaving in her brothers sigh only a beat after filling his lungs. Growing more annoyed each second that ticked away on any clock. Funny thing how quickly an entire attitide can change, in a blink of an eye. A breath.

    "Are you going with me to see Mom and Amber?"

    Days passed too quickly, and before you even knew, it was someone's birthday, graduation... anniversary.

    She berated herself, silently. Mentally kicking her own ass for letting the memory slip through long enough to give peace to a broken heart. A pain she let linger in the deepest corners of a tainted mind.

    The former gritty tone was replaced with something almost unrecognizable.

    "Of course I am, Bran. I wouldn't miss it."

    She was ready in forty minutes. Her closet ransacked and a literal disaster from the search for something appropriate. Unruly hair placed the best it could be, dash of color, shoes on her feet. A small Lady Smith strapped to her thigh, a badge hanging loose around her neck, tucked inside to veil it's presence. And Brandon knocking on her door.

    Nothing said as they drove miles out of town. Both likely remembering a time unspoken these days. Visiting hours were never over. It was her turn this time, almost a ritual to speak while passing under the wide arched gate.

    "A beautiful cemetary."

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