a songstress in the making : camilla st. john

[cajun_songbird]

<center>i'm not okay
i'm not okay
i'm not o - fucking - kay

----</center>

The phone was ringing.

Pushing the pillow off of her head, a hand slapped over to the nightstand blearily, only succeeding in knocking the phone to the floor before the incentive was taken to actually sit up. The receiver was laying on its side, and it took a moment to shake the cobwebs from her brain to realize.. someone was on the other end.

"Swear to Jesus, somebody better be hurt," mumbled under her breath as she leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed the receiver, jamming it between her shoulder and her ear so that both hands could be free to try and untangle herself from the blankets. "What?" Customary phone greeting, no matter who might be on the other line.

"Ain't no way ta talk ta me, Camilla. I thought ya'd be happer n' that ta hear from me." The voice on the other end made her crash to reality with a sound thud, dark brow arching in surprise. Talk about your blasts from the pasts. "I'm sorry, Gavin." Remorsefully. "What I meant to say -- What.. the hell do you want?" Blunt and to the point. It didn't occur to her as of yet to question how he got her phone number. Especially.. here. "Same ol' mouthy bitch. Good ta see ya ain't changed none, 'cept for tryin' ta sound like ya ain't from th'bayou."

Cool amusement slid over the line into ear-- a voice that she had once loved to hear. Now, it only turned her stomach. "Can the bullshit, it's.." A brief look to the clock was taken as she reached up to hold the receiver as she dropped back onto the pillows. ".. three-thirty in the fuckin' mornin'. You want somethin'." Perhaps it was the .. "I want m'money back, is what I want, but it's probably blown ta hell. Why don'tcha meet me outside yer new li'l house in about ten minutes." Yep. She figured the money would be brought up.

"I might not be the smartest broad in the world, Gav, but I know a little better than to just waltz outside just because you somehow found where I live and want to 'catch up'." Voice as dry as the Sahara, a skeptical look was rolled towards the nearest window. His laughter filtered through almost immediately. "You'll do it, Cammy. I know ya. Yer too damn curious for yer own good." Before she had the chance to tell him to fuck himself sideways ( because of the 'Cammy' more than anything ) he disconnected. "That sunnuva--"

Slamming the phone onto the cradle, legs swung over the side of the bed. Grabbing her cell phone, it was flipped open to see if she'd missed any calls there, before a pair of jeans were tugged on. A plain dark blue button up shirt followed it, accompanied by her shoulder holster and the Browning-- fully loaded with the safety clicked off. Gathering unkempt hair up in one hand, the mass was shoved beneath a paperboy cap before she trailed towards the door. Passing through the living room, sneakers were slid on, almost as an afterthought, before finally, she made her way outside. Three things came to her attention all at the same time.

There was a car parked in the driveway.

There were two men standing outside of it.

A star was falling directly towards them.

Frowning, a look was flickered over her shoulder towards the open doorway, wondering how long it'd take to get back inside before anything could happen. Coming outside had indeed been a mistake. Before she could open her mouth to tell those guys the might want to move, all the while backing up to the door, an eye searing flash preceeded the star hitting the parked car, sending a pure orange and yellow flame shooting a good thirty feet in the air. This was accompanied by flying debris and what she thought were... body parts.

Throwing her hands up to protect her face, feet slid from beneath her as she dropped to the ground. After a few moments in the fetal position, she realized that none of the wreckage had even remotely drifted towards where she was. Very, very slowly, eyes lifted to view the smoldering ruins of the car, brows furrowing in confusion. "What the..." Before the sentence could be finished, a shadowy figure began emerging through the flames, heading directly to where she was curled up at.

Gavin's face formed through the inky blackness that constituted the shadow, and wordlessly, his arm lifted to point her way. The gun almost seemed like an extension of his hand. "Sorry doll. You know you ain't cut out for this kind of domestic white picket fence bullshit." The time she took to ponder over that comment was all he needed to pull the trigger-- the second loud explosion of sound for the night ricocheting off of the nearby trees and brick of the house.

----

Sitting up suddenly in the bed, both hands went to the side of her face, then over her forehead, as if checking for a gunshot wound. A cold sweat had broken out over her body, and breathing wasn't coming as easily as it should have. It took a moment or two for Cam to realize; if she'd been shot, she wouldn't be checking herself for exit wounds. Falling back to the pillows, widened eyes concentrated on the ceiling-- counting to ten to try and steady herself and stop her body from shaking.

"...I really hate fuckin' goin' to sleep anymore," whispered to the room before one of the pillows was grabbed and placed over her face.

[cajun_songbird]

<center>

Like anyone would be, I am flattered by your fascination with me.
Like any hot blooded woman, I have simply wanted an object to crave.
But you, you're not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight.

Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm.
Must be somewhat heartening to watch shepard meet shepard.
But you, you're not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight.

Like any uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing.
You speak of my love like you have experienced love like mine before.
But this is not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight.

I don't think you unworthy.
I need a moment to deliberate.</center>


( alanis morissette ; uninvited )

[cajun_songbird]

<center>tell me i'm the only one.
tell me there's no only one.
jesus was the only son for you.

and i still believe that i can not be saved.

----</center>

"Can I assssk you ssssomething?"

The sibilant voice seemed to echo from every corner of the small room, causing eyes to dart nervously around. It was like trying to pinpoint air-- it was everywhere, even if you couldn't see it. Backing up to the far wall, she only stopped when the cool press of sheetrock and paint could be felt at her shoulder. Opening her mouth, the realization that no sound would come out hit like a mallet between the eyes. At that exact moment, a rasping laugh began, sending icy fingers of fear and apprehension up her spine.

"No, no love, you don't have to ssssay anything outloud." The temperature in her immediate area suddenly dropped to freezing, causing teeth to chatter as eyes widened to the point of taking over her face. ( I don't want to be here. ) Something was winding up her leg, twining like ivy on a trellis, though it stopped about knee level. "Of courssse you don't, but you can't really help but be here." Another chuckle was loosed then, causing goosebumps to march up and down her bare arms. ( Where is here? ) Movement began again, this time the winding could be felt around her waist.

"It'sss here, and there, and nowhere at all. It'sss the placesss in your mind, and the placesss that you don't want to know exissst." Intangible shifted to tanglible, and suddenly, there was a shadow crouching directly in front of her. No distinct features could be seen, but the feelings that radiated from it. Lips pressing together firmly, if she was able to emit sound right now, a whimper would be filling the room in its entirety. A thin slit appeared where the mouth should've been on the shadow, a finger lifting to clock at her. "No need for all of that, ssssweetheart. Back to what I wassss trying to asssk you.." If it were possible, tar pitch hands were clapping together in delight.

Fear still present, her expression couldn't help but turn wary. Slinking to the right side of her, the shadow mimicked her position against the wall, oilslicks for knees pressing to the empty cavity constituting as it's chest. "Do you believe in evil? In good? In the whole universsse being made for a ssssingle deity that won't even sssshow himsself?" A faint giggle erupted from the mass, shadow tipped fingers drifting over her knee lazily. "Do you believe all little bad girlsss and boysss go to fire bad place?" Amusement was more than apparent-- she may not have been putting two and two together yet, but '4' was more than clear. ( I believe in God. I believe in Heaven, I believe in Hell, and I believe -- I have utter faith in the fact that I am loved enough to be forgiven. ) There was no pause before she answered. No measure of space saying she had to think about what words to use.

As soon as she was finished, her words were being thrown back at her. A mockery of her voice rebounding from wall to wall to wall as the shadow pulled up to it's feet and began pacing. "I believe I believe I believe," repeated in her own voice. Stopping suddenly, the outline of two arms could be seen lifting towards the ceiling. "I BELIEVE I'M LOVED ENOUGH TO BE FORGIVEN. Let me asssk you sssomething elssse." Dropping back down to a knee, what could be construed as a fist was placed beneath its chin. "If you're sssso loved, then why did your brother get killed? Why were you left alone to deal with everything? Where WASSSS THISSSS GREAT FORGIVER WHEN YOU WERE IN NEED?"

Quieting suddenly, the shadow slunk back, seemingly melding with the darkness again and leaving her alone. Or rather, giving the appearance that she was alone. It was still there, lurking around like a living nightmare, ready to pounce on her next visible sign of fear. Tucking her arms closer around her middle, lashes lowered to half mast-- almost thoughtfully. ( The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.) On cue, a fierce shriek erupted from the corner directly across from her. ( He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake. ) Working her way up to her feet, hands dropped to hang loosely at her sides. "Ssssstop it. You think thossse wordssss are your ssstrength? They're nothing!"

A smile appeared then, and it was far from humorous. Yeah, if they meant nothing, it wouldn't be screaming like she'd jabbed a hot poker through it. ( Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever. ) Her convictions were her own, and just because some shadow wannabe Satan wanted her to believe otherwise, Camilla knew -- she knew -- her faith and belief would always see her through.

( Did you hear that part? SURELY GOODNESS AND MERCY SHALL FOLLOW ME ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE, AND I WILL DWELL IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD FOREVER! ) The scream echoed within her own head, causing a sharp, splitting pain to start in her right eye and splice clear through to the back of her head. Screaming, the noise actually breaking free this time, both hands clapped over her face as she dropped to her knees.

"For thou art with me, for thou art with me, for thou art with me..."

---

Bolting awake with a start, it only took moments for her fingers to curl around the cool metal of her rosary. Careful not to disturb Des ? his night had been quite eventful enough and he had only fallen asleep about an hour ago ? glass beads and silver were pressed to her forehead as a litany of prayers escaped quietly into the night.

"O God who in Thy ineffable goodness hast rendered blessed Raphael the conductor of thy faithful in their journeys, we humbly implore Thee that we may be conducted by him in the way of salvation, and experience his help in the maladies of our souls. Through Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen."

<font color="#DFECCA" size="1">[ March 17, 2005 07:13 PM: Message edited by: entropic notes ]</font>

[cajun_songbird]

<center>I hope I'm not too late.
I hope that you're ok.
I left in a hurry, as soon as they told me.
So I prayed for you.
Hang on till tomorrow.
Just don't leave me here today.
I'm coming home to you.

(Should've been there)
Should've been there, I wanted to.
(Should've been there)
Should've been there right next to you.
(Should've been there)
Should've been there to comfort you.
(Should've been there)
Should've been there to sing to you.
(Should've been there)
Should've been there to hold your hand.
(Should've been there)
Should've been there to be with you.
After all that we've been through.


Yes, it's hard to say goodbye.
And what I wish right now is to somehow turn back time.
With all of the love and respect that I hold right here for you.
Hang on till tomorrow.
Just don't leave me here today.
I'm coming home to you.</center>

( should've been there ; earshot )

<center>[ on vacation ]</center>

<font color="#DFECCA" size="1">[ March 29, 2005 04:30 PM: Message edited by: entropic notes ]</font>

[cajun_songbird]

<center>there's clothes all over the floor.
don't remember them being here before.
smell of perfume is in here.
why's lipstick on the mirror?
and still i don't understand.

no pictures left in the hall.
there's three new holes in my wall.
where the hell's my credit cards?
why's my wallet in the yard?
and still i don't understand.

well now i guess i should've listened,
when you said you had enough.
a little trick i picked up from my father,
in one ear and out the other.
why's love gotta be so tough?

should've seen the look on my face.
my shit's all over the place.
why's this happening to me?
why'd you take both sets of keys?
and still i don't understand.

and now i guess i should've listened,
when you said you had enough.
a little trick i picked up from my father,
in one ear and out the other.
why's love gotta be so tough?

there's clothes all over my floor.
don't remember them being there before.
there are no candles in here.
lipstick's still on my mirror,
and still i don't understand.

( should've listened : nickelback )</center>

The audacity. The sheer audacity to accuse her of cheating; or trying to cheat.

Most of what had been said was blocked from memory the second she stepped out of Envy. Thinking back on it only made her want to punch in a wall. Envy-- ironic name for the place, all things considering. Punching in the number for a cab, she patiently waited on the curb. No one came bursting through the door after her, and she didn't expect anyone to. No, Jace had made it perfectly clear the way he felt about things.

It had been part of a show. She had about as much romantic interest in Brian as she did Des-- none. The flirting, the dancing-- that had all been for the song. No hidden agendas, no secret romance brewing. The whole trip to Greece had been a beautiful experience. Just her, him, some beaches and lots of ... time. They'd only arrived back home Monday. Here it was Thursday, and she'd just thrown his ring back at him. Not that it had been engagement ring-- no, no. But it had been a symbol. A symbol of nothing now.

Swiping the heel of her palm down the length of her face, she barely noticed that the cab had pulled up. Not until the driver began honking his horn at her impatiently. Shaking out of her reverie, the door was opened enough to allow her form inside, then it was slammed shut.

"I just think it might be courteous to let me know you were gonna cat around before I moved your shit into the house and bought you stuff."

Slouching down in the seat, both hands lifted to cover her face as that little Hallmark replayed over and over again in her head. Camilla had never -- never -- given him reason to think she'd cheat on him. For that fact, he should've known her well enough by now to know she wasn't that kind of person. Guess you don't really know someone at all, when certain situations arise. Choking back a sob, it was waved away -- as if the motion would rid it from her mind -- before the cell was lifted again.

It only took one phone call. Certain movers were happy to work off the clock, and quickly, when a certain amount of cash was mentioned. Her couch, chairs, coffee table, bed, dresser-- all those clothes. Anything he paid for was left exactly where it was; in the same spot it had been resting but now on the floor. The baby grand was to be picked up the next day. She didn't give a blue damn if he'd gone to New Orleans to retrieve it for her. Her money had been used to pay for that baby, and it wasn't being left in that house.

Everything else was to be placed in storage until she could find yet another apartment to move into. This was a streak for her-- third apartment in less than a year. For now, a hotel room would have to work. She wouldn't bother or impose on anyone else because of a seriously overblown lovers quarrel. Camilla St. John took care of herself-- fended for herself. That ideal had slipped away since she'd met Jace, but now she was beginning to grasp it again with both hands. She didn't need anything or any-damn-one to make things easier in life.

Before she shut the door to the house behind her, a pause was taken. Sliding to take a seat on the ground, her small notebook and a pen appeared from out of her bag. A quick note penned, and she slid it into a crack in the door. He had to come back for his clothes, and one would imagine he'd lock all the doors to the house before leaving it.

Thanks for everything. You've been swell. I'll return the key tomorrow after the guys pick up the piano, and oh. Don't worry. I'm not sleeping with any of the movers to get them to help. It was ended with a large "C" scrawled at the bottom.

She'd go on like usual. Tomorrow, the job hunt began, and afterwards? She'd worry about somewhere to stay. Hotel rooms were quite comfortable.

[cajun_songbird]

<center>court is in session, the verdict is in.
no appeal on the docket today, just my own sin.
the wall's cold and pale; the cage made of steel.
screams fill the room, alone i drop and kneel.
silence know the sound; my breath the only motion around.
demons cluttering, my face showing no emotion.
shackled by my sentence, expecting no return.
here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn.

should've been dead on a sunday morning banging my head.
no time for mourning; ain't got no time.

----</center>

The hell was he doing this? He just wanted coffee, didn't know any other place in town that made such a good cappuccino. He pulled the Mas into the alley alongside, parking it in back of the building. Because...he liked the scenery. He was dressed to impress again, in a camel-colored linen casual suit coat and slacks coupled with a pretty dusty blue button-up shirt. He'd gotten a haircut this morning, cutting it military short and going clean-shaven instead of dealing with facial hair. He waltzed along the side of the building and slid through the front door, tugging his sunglasses off and tucking them into the inside pocket of his coat on the way to the counter. The barista got a friendly wink and a too-good-to-be-true charming smile as he leaned against the cabinet. "Can I just get a cappuccino? Double, please. Skim milk." He flicked up his wrist, shaking the sleeve back to check his watch as if he had somewhere else to be. As if they really cared to see him right now at Envy...not so much, thank you.

Everyone was a masochist in one form or another-- looking for ways to hurt themselves under the guise of just being nonchalant. Falling asleep in the bathroom of the tavern after a bottle or so of bourbon made Camilla realize this. There had just been too much.. excitement yesterday and last night. She was slouched at her usual booth, a notebook open in front of her, but it was hard to tell where her eyes were. Dark shades obscured those blue-violets from public view-- hangover extreme. Mass had been torture this morning, but going with that masochistic ideal, she stayed for the entire thing. After all, today was the Papal funeral. After leaving the Church, she'd gone to get dressed to meet Charlie, her old boss. A black pleated skirt that was short enough to not even skim the tops of those thigh high FM boots Fae had given her for Christmas. Three inches of steel made up the heel; she adored them completely. An off the shoulder black blouse, and hair had been organized in 'tamed' messy curls. Still as death for the past twenty minutes, the pencil between her fingers suddenly began flipping back and forth, as if a switch had been turned on. "Refill," called to whatever server was passing by, with a point to her empty cup.

Jace didn't hear Cam from where he stood, and he wouldn't have recognized her at all on first glance. He dropped a couple dollars in the tip jar when his capp came up, and took a sip as he turned around to look for a place to sit. Steel stilettos? Like a scan and pan shot from some cheesy eighties movie, Jace's attention wandered up the boot-clad leg, lingering on the exposure of skin at the thigh, and upward from there. Cute. He headed that direction, because--what the hell? He's single, right? A little eye-candy never hurt anyone. The notebook was noticed, but not given a second glance, and then--he recognized that cute little nose, the delicate chin, the perfect pair of lips. Trying to hide a face like that behind sunglasses should be a crime, though he wouldn't ever have admitted that aloud at this moment. As if shocked to see her here--her place, if she ever had one--he cleared his throat and stepped closer. "Cam," his tone was guarded, but polite enough, just a greeting by way of saying her name. He dropped into a chair and hunched forward, sipping at his capp again.

The sheet of paper in front of her was as clean as when she started. Writing was getting harder and harder these days, and at this point, she was ready to just give up. Continue singing other people's songs until she either made enough money to quit, or she died. Whichever came first. Flickering a red slashed smile to broad refilling her cup, eyes never lifted from the table. This one of the reasons she liked this place so much. It was quiet for the most part. The servers were friendly, and your cup didn't stay empty for long. Never ending coffee, that was A-OK in her book. Uncrossing, then recrossing her legs, a hand brushed down to straighten her skirt when.. Her chin lifted when he spoke, but it was hard to see what she was looking at. Until a manicured nail went up to tug down the sunglasses. "Jace," returned just as flatly-- empty politeness that screamed of hurt and violence just under the skin. His hair.. a silent moment was taken to mourn the loss of something she loved to run her fingers through. Then again, that wasn't an option anymore, right? A dark brow arched when he invited himself to a chair, but her only reply was to push the shades back up.

He hadn't sat at her table, just at one that was close. And while it would probably have been more polite to just leave his coffee and go find a Starbucks or something, he stayed. And wishing he'd left his own sunglasses on so he could watch her without being caught, he pushed out of his chair again and headed up to the counter to buy a paper. When he got back to his table, he dropped down into the opposite chair, which put him more on her side than in front of her--maybe he could see her in his peripheral vision with the paper open--and slid his coffee closer. He opened to the real estate section and forced his eyes to scan the page, but he didn't read a single word. Maybe she'd be the one to say the next word, maybe not. He'd wait it out for a bit.

At her table or not, she was surprised that he'd stayed. He certainly looked.. chipper. Nonplused. Asshole. Shifting around on the cushioned bench enough to angle her bag open, fingers sorted through the multitude of .. junk in there to find her cigarettes. He wanted to act like she wasn't there? Right back atcha. Striking the match on the underside of the table, a lengthy draw was taken-- spent match tossed into the ashtray. There were a million
things she could say. A few more that she wanted to say. Then again, there didn't need to be a repeat of last night. Something that had been niggling at her though.. "Why'd you give Des the keys?" There. Neutral subject. Des. A stream of smoke punctuated the question, head nor eyes never turning his way.

He was frankly surprised by the topic she'd chosen first, and his sip was interrupted. "I figured I could trust him to keep an eye on the house until I decide what to do with it," quietly, making a show of turning the page. "Also thought he might want to get the star charts and stuff before I sold everything... maybe he can be there to meet the piano movers." He folded the paper and set it down across from his place at the table, turning a quarter angle toward her. "I didn't want Des to be hurt by this more than he had to be."

A glance was shifted to her own watch at the mention of the movers. They should've already procured the piano. If even one key had been scuffed... heads. Rolling. Cigarette tossed into the ashtray, sunglasses were tugged off abruptly. Her eyes were a little red, a little puffy, but overall-- concealer and eyeliner worked wonders and making 'happy'appearances. "All of my stuff should be out," returned just as quietly, jaw setting as her gaze shifted to that damnable newspaper. Des was a touchy subject-- he'd been more traumatized than he let on last night. That could trigger an episode, and that.. that would suck. "Yes," neutrally. "We don't want him... hurt." Carefully phrasing and trying not to seem like she was attacking. Even if part of her wanted to.

Jace took a deep breath, fully aware of the poison just beneath her tone and afraid of poking a hole that would let it out. He already knew Cam well enough to realize where he was...was a bad place to be. What he really didn't want was for it to get any worse. "You seem to think that this is some kind of ...selfish thing I've done." He turned toward her fully, hunching forward and resting his elbows on his knees and dropping the volume of his voice to provide as much privacy as possible, given the location. "You think I want this? Like I've been waiting for an excuse to dump you? God, Cam, give me more credit than that. Haven't I done enough to make you feel special? I'm sorry if not being a musician means I'm just not good enough for you, but there's something I just can't change. No one wants to listen to me sing."

Reaching for her coffee cup, hands were shaking enough to almost cause the entire contents to hit her lap. Given the temperature of said coffee and the length of that skirt-- can you say third degree burns in an interesting place? She wouldn't turn his way, but he had her attention. That's the best he could hope for right now. "--what the hell does you not bein' able to sing have anythin' to do with this?" Incredulous eyes flickered his way then. Her voice was kept lowered as well. God knows, they've had their fill of public scenes, hm? "Yes. You've done everythin' in your power to make me feel special, but I've also done everythin' I can to show you I want you. Not Brian, not the coffee guy... Jesus. I moved in with you. That had to count for somethin'." Considering how she had felt about relationships and independence at the time! "She may have left you for another guy, but I'm not her." And he knew damn well who she was talking about.

"Cam," his voice grew almost businesslike in its insistence, fighting the urge to cut her off to get his point across. He bit his tongue and--her accusation hit him in the face with all the subtlety of a brick. Green eyes widened and he sat up straight, stung by the personal nature of the comment. He was visibly shaken, even angry at the suggestion that Shiloh had affected him so deeply, though it was undeniably true. "This has nothing to do with Shiloh," a lie so insistent he was definitely trying to convince himself more than her, "she found somebody that fit her better, that's great." He wanted a sip of coffee to gather the troops for redeployment, but the cup would've ended up in pieces, most likely. "Look, I might not be the smartest guy in the world, but I'm not blind. I saw the way you were looking at him, Cam--even if it's just a thought right now it might be more to him." Funny thing about men, they only want looks like that to be directed at themselves. Call it insecurity. He'd planned on saying more, but everything flushed out of his mind and he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and following suit with his legs. Closing all his body language, trying to keep it contained.

"Don't Cam me. That's bull--" Glancing around, legs swung to the side so that she could lean more towards him, to keep the conversation private. "That's bullshit. She does have somethin' to do with this, because she left you." Lies do not befit us. "And you think I'm gonna leave you at the drop of a hat for some stoner guitar playe--" Wait a second. Something just clicked in her head, and it was evident by the widening of her eyes. "Because he's a guitarist." Like Oliver had been. Lips pursed then as a hand went to her forehead. Head. Ache. "You are blind. If you had any clue how I felt about you, then you wouldn't be doubtin' me over some guy I sing with randomly. Regardless of how it looked, you should know I'm not like that. I don't play those games, Jace." With that, glasses were shoved back on the bridge of her nose as the cigarette was reclaimed. She was going to start smoking weed.

Music was such an important thing in Cam's life, and Jace felt handicapped because he couldn't connect with her on that level. "He's not a random guitarist, Cam. You worked with him before. You fired the house band at Envy. You went out and found him and hired him to play for you. Again. Random?" obviously ignorant to the chemistry required to have a good ensemble in a band. "Yeah... random. Have your cake and eat it, too, just see if your stoner guitarist makes you happy." He pushed out of his chair and grabbed his paper, tugging his wallet out again and dropping a couple more dollars on the table, having forgotten he'd already left a tip. Good day for the coffee crew, at least. To add insult to ego-injury, Jace was having a hell of a time folding his paper back into anything recognizable, and if he didn't really want to look through the real estate section he'd have just left it there.

She had also brought a few more guys in with Brian, so that was supposed to mean she wanted to fuck them too? Trust and understanding weren't factoring into the situation at the moment. Pushing up to her feet as well, her bag was slung over her shoulder before the newspaper was watched. Thankful for the sunglasses hiding anything resembling tearful eyes, she .. just nodded. Once-- sharply. "I can give up music if I had to, Jace." She continued before he could issue an objection. "I could give it all up in a heartbeat if that's what I had to do, and you know why?" Sweet Jesus, she was about to collapse into a puddle of nerves and saline. Her body was angled for the door. "You said you could be serious about the whole love thing. Guess I know how you feel now, but it doesn't matter." With that, she tipped him a salute. She had to get outside and away. Far away.

Women. They always found a way to leave the man holding the flaming sack of shit. And not just any way--the best way. Jace stood there, frozen, as she walked right out. He let the paper fall to the floor, the sound of pages rattling in the breeze as the door hissed shut woke him up. Feeling eyes on his back, Jace turned to make eye contact with the horrorstricken barista, whose whole expression was rapt: she was watching the best/worst part of some cheesy romance movie, and those eyes of hers demanded that he chase Cam--or take her in his arms instead. Jace glared at her until she realized what she was projecting, and she busied herself with wiping down the espresso machine. "You got a back door?" he wasn't about to use the same one Cam had, lest his feet gain control and take him after her. The barista nodded nervously and pointed through the kitchen, and the Walker just...went.

( taken from live play )

<font color="#DFECCA" size="1">[ April 09, 2005 01:37 AM: Message edited by: entropic notes ]</font>

[cajun_songbird]

<center>i'm gonna find me a hole in the wall.
i'm gonna crawl inside and die.
call me later now, a misunderstood man, lord.
never told me goodbye.

can't you see, oh can't you see.
what that man, lord, he's been doin' to me.

( revised Marshall Tucker Band ; Can't You See )

----</center>


Hotel room heartache.

The maids were going to pitch fits when they came in to clean. Nicotine patch artwork stained the ceiling like a gutter-filth da Vinci-- empty bourbon bottles stacked at the foot of the bed like noveau sculpture. Sprawled across the rumbled bed, on her stomach, the songbird was perusing... college pamphlets. Evil little brother had planted the idea in her head of teaching music, and the more she read, the more the idea sounded like something she'd do. After all, one couldn't sing in nightclubs and dives forever. At some point, you had to grow up and figure out something for your life.

Rolling onto her back abruptly, the literature was tossed to the side so that the heels of her palms could dig into closed eyes. The headaches were coming back, and this time, they meant business. Stress coupled with the fact she wouldn't wear the glasses .. well. Good thing the Excedrine company put out so many pills a year. She was doing her best to work through as many as possible. On the plus side, the nightmares weren't attacking quite as much. One had to count their small blessings.

The thought of leaving the room entered her mind briefly, but.. honestly, there wasn't anywhere she wanted to go. The tavern was just too noisy, and after the confrontation at the coffee shop the other day, Camilla just didn't feel like chancing it. Lips pursing, fingers shifted back through messy curls, pushing the mass back from her face before her cell phone was grabbed. Legs dangling over the edge of the bed, phone held up over her face, she looked like a sixteen year old nervous about calling a crush. Instead of pushing speed dial 2, index finger skipped over to hit 3.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Rin--

"...I ain't here right now. Here being wherever 'cause this is a cell phone. I guess I could say that I'm not available, but everyone says that and it's just..boring. Crap, there was something else I wanted to add to this..but I forgot...oh! I gotta new phone, but if you've got the number, that means you already know. If this is Camilla, I'll meet up with you later..Bark! Stop yer dang yappin'! M'talking here! Anyway, I got some serious shit to tell you so try to be on time for once, huh?. Ow..I just smacked my elbow against the stupid doo--" Beep.

One had to wonder how Bren had the air to say all that at once. Fighting a smile, she was a little deflated that the other woman hadn't picked up directly. When the beep drilled through her ear, she winced and thought for a second.

"Hey.. Bren. S'me. Just callin' to see.. how ya'll were doin' and what was up. Yanno, if you get the chance, call me back and.. we'll hang out. Or somethin'. Alright then, talk to you later, doll."

Ending the call, she stared at the phone for a few seconds more before tossing it beside her on the bed. A few more seconds of ceiling gazing ensued, but this was more than she could take. Sitting -- or sprawling -- on her ass, staring at a frickin' ceiling while moping wasn't exactly how she intended to spend her day. Any day, for that fact. Hauling upright, a determined stride carried her over to the window, curtains yanked back to let sunlight in. It was a beautiful day. Almost a waste-- days like these were perfect for strolling in the park or taking a drive through the country with someone you cared abou--

"Stoppit, Camilla Violet." That line of thought was cut off verbally, and without another thought, she began dressing. The tattoo was getting to the point where it didn't drive her completely insane by itching, but she wasn't going to chance anything by wearing jeans. The waistband rubbed against the inked skin, and it was chapped enough. Considering that it was spring, and it was actually feeling as such, a white cotton sundress was pulled on.

Utterly girly and something she never would've bought, but the lavender flowers blossoming on the fabric had captured her attention. White espadrilles that laced up past her ankle with a white ribbon, and her hair was tamed back in a ponytail. Grabbing the room key, her cigarettes, and cell phone, she left the room without a backwards glance.

Sun beam blues.

[cajun_songbird]

<center>now that she's back in the atmosphere,
with drops of jupiter in her hair.
she acts like summer and walks like rain.
reminds me that there's a time to change.

since her return from the stay on the moon,
she listens like spring and talks like june.

----</center>


Her last night of performance. She hadn't been this nervous on her first night, all those years ago. The rest of the band -- Brian and the rest, God love them -- was already out on the stage, tuning up while the growing crowd set about either situating themselves at a table or reclining against the bar. A jazz club through and through, the interior was done in muted reds and the atmosphere, as one would guess, was smokey. She was still in the dressing room making idle touchups to her makeup and trying to not throw up. Nerve. Wracking. There were two guys at the door, checking IDs and taking coats. An honest to God cigarette girl was going around the room with her little tray, and other random security members were milling about, making sure everything was running as it should. "Yo, birdie, five more minutes," Charlie called back to her before heading back to the stage.

She was nervous? Libbi had made a big show of pulling Jace aside and letting him know Cam was performing tonight. Her last time. She'd casually explained that he needed to be smacked across the mouth for running her out of Envy the way he did, but more importantly he deserved to be kicked in the balls for hurting Cam like that. Regardless, she'd made him understand that he needed to go see her tonight, if it was the last time he ever did. The Walker had grudgingly agreed, and he went to great lengths to make sure he looked right. He wore a cream colored zoot with a tan vest, hat done to the nines with a trio of pheasant feathers. Instead of a color swatch in his pocket he wore a flower on his lapel, a silvery purple breath of a rosebud with a touch of greenery. He carried a cane in one hand, a cigar the other, and his heart in his throat as he climbed out of the Mas in front of the club. Heading for the door, he paused at the sight of security, swallowing as he heard the band sound checking inside. Now or never, Calix. Calix. She'd turned the name into an oath and he'd thrown it back at her like a grenade. He deserved whatever might befall. Biting the cigar between his teeth, Jace pulled out his ID and stepped up to the door, offering it without noticeable hesitation.

She couldn't do this... "I can't do this," was whispered audibly to the mirror in front of her, elbows finding the vanity's top as hands cupped over her face. Cam was thinking she should've just said 'I'm done with it,' and went about her business. Then there wouldn't be any of this last show bullshit, and she wouldn't be able to have a breakdown. Pushing back, shaky fingers curled around her lipstick tube, attempting to apply a final layer of crimson over the already wine stained lips. Fuck it. She'd go out there, croon a few numbers, and call it a decade. The guards at the door stopped Jace appropriately, checking the ID to make sure he was over the legal age before waving him through. There was the offer of taking his jacket, if he was so inclined to leave it. The stage was situated directly across from the door, though farther back, but Brian had a clear view of who was entering and who was exiting. Moreso who.. was entering. Setting his guitar into its stand, he angled himself for the steps leading down the floor. While they still had a couple of minutes, it wouldn't hurt to go speak with the man, face to face. Cam, in the meantime, took a quick sip from the ever present bourbon glass she had nearby. She was just going to sit here for a moment or two longer.

Jace declined the offer of having his coat taken, despite the closeness of the crowd, he was terribly cold. And he half-hoped that somehow he'd be able to hide, while the other half hoped she'd know he wore this just for her. He puffed on the stogie nervously, one hand on his pocket, weaving in and out of tables on his way to an empty one. No way he'd be seen at the bar or sharing a table with some random woman...enough of him still wanted things to work out okay, he couldn't let that happen. Unable to find a suitable spot where he could be alone and see the stage, he settled for leaning against the side wall, in the shadows closer to the rear than the front. This is about where his office at Envy would be, but of course not the same elevation. It was a good angle for Cam--as if she had a bad side. When one of the cocktail girls came by, Jace ordered a pair of bottled waters--he'd been drinking too much lately. Best to be safe on a night like this one.

Jace would be alone. For the whole thirty seconds it took Brian to navigate his way through the crowd, and he suddenly had an even six foot tall man beside him. Brian wasn't blind-- even if things had taken an exceptionally shitty turn the other night, that didn't mean all hope was lost. It was part of the reason Cam was backstage, almost hyperventilating. Sure, this was occasion enough for a bad set of nerves, but she was normally more collected. Plus, he had walked in on her crying earlier, and the show didn't have anything to do with it. "Can I talk to you a minute?" asked politely, a lean taken against the wall as well as eyes leveled towards the stage. He'd only been in the band since January, when Oliver had disappeared and left the rest of the members short a key player. It was a pity the bird was giving it up, and he wanted to make sure everything -- everything -- was out in the open.

Jace hadn't even seen Brian, those green eyes had been way too intent on searching whatever was visible of the wings for a sight of her, obviously in vain. He flickered a look and did a double take, shifting his weight and standing straighter, as if afraid Brian was going to take a swing at him. "Look, I know I probably don't have any right to be here," he began...but now what? He really couldn't offer an argument as to why he should be able to stay. Instead, he just closed his mouth and lifted a hand, graciously allowing Brian the room to speak.

"One minute," trilled out from Charlie as he stuck his head in the dressing room again, giving her an encouraging thumbs up. She was about to give him an up-- an up yours. Exhaling shakily, hands smoothed down the front of her dress as the door was targeted. Cream colored Panama was grabbed on the way out and affixed atop those curls. Once to the stage, she was all eyes for the microphone, testing the cord extension and making sure the audio was set up accordingly. The first glance wasn't even spared for the crowd here for her and the band. Brian held up a hand when Jace started talking, head shaking. "Naw, I'm not gonna say you don't belong here. What I will say is this. Cam's a cool chick and all, but she's just one of the guys. One of the band. I've got a wife and a brand new baby at home that I'm in love with." Pausing to let that settle in, he glanced to the stage briefly. "And you've got the same thing, sans baby, up on that stage. Don't just twiddle your thumbs, man." With that, he clapped the Walker on the shoulder and took off at a half-jog towards the stage. Show was about to start.

Jace would be heartbroken when he realized he'd missed that first look at her, but he didn't know Brian well enough to trust him. Jace was about to argue that what he had was jack and shit, but there he went, clap on the shoulder and Brian was headed back to the stage. Green eyes turned to follow, and he froze when he caught sight of Cam. The poor cocktail girl had to flick the brim of his hat to finally get his attention, heat rising to his skin as he fished out a money clip and peeled a bill off for her. She happily took advantage of his distraction, tucking the fifty into her stocking and dropping off his water before heading around to the rest of her tables.

Holding the mic loosely in her right hand, one heeled foot came off the ground as she leaned towards the bassist, trying to understand what he was saying. Face set in rigid lines, it took a moment to realize he was telling her to frickin' smile. A brief one appeared, however forced, and she tipped a salute his way, before turning to watch Brian climb up the steps. A brow arched, wondering where he'd been. The players usually kept to the stage until after the sets... Huh. He flashed a reassuring smile before hooking the strap of his guitar over his shoulder. If Jace wanted to hide in the shadows and not let her know he was here, Brian wasn't going against that. He was o-u-t of it. Form settling onto the stool Charlie put out for her, legs crossed as she gave the mic cord a jiggle, letting it rest alongside of her instead of over her feet where she'd be tripped. The lights dimmed-- one shining directly on the stage, and then a smaller one lighting up over the crowd. The band started the intro to the song, and she waited for her cue.

Jace sipped at his water, not even able to notice the chill. Before he'd even had a third of the first bottle, both were abandoned and he started to inch toward the stage as she sang. Go on, songbird, reel him in. The cigar was pressed to nothingness in someone else's ashtray, and Jace leaned heavily against the wall to listen. What he wouldn't give now for those one-way mirrors he would have had at Envy...

The song was meant for a man's voice, but her voice was husky enough to pull it off, while adding her own bit of femininity to it. Usually she used someone in the audience as a focal point during a song, but she couldn't seem to tear her gaze from the far wall. A faint smile was slanted over towards Brian and Andrew- the bass player- as they headed up the background vocals. Her heart was in her throat and it took a grand total of two verses and two run throughs of the chorus to be able to flick a gaze towards the people listening. And she missed three whole beats when the light technician swung the light around the crowd.

Jace noticed the falter--hell, anyone that had heard her sing before would know something wasn't going off right. He wasn't sure she'd seen him--he'd been paying too much attention to her to notice when the light slid over him--but he knew her gaze had been his direction. Maybe he shouldn't have worn this...it made him too obvious. Of course she'd know he was there-- she was probably furious. He slid the hat off his head and looked around for his water, only then noticing he'd wandered a good ten feet closer to the stage. He backed up slowly, taking a long drink to wet a throat gone instantly dry when she skipped those beats, and tried to sink back into shadow, though it was no doubt useless by now.

Brian scrambled to take up the slack she left, but thankfully, most of the crowd was either too drunk to care, or didn't notice. That song ending, Cam wasn't even sure what the hell the other songs they were doing were. Her mind had blanked completely. She loved the suit he had on-- hat and all, though that wasn't what caused the falter. It was the shock that.. he'd shown. Being the gambling woman she was, she was pretty sure Libby had gotten a phone call from a certain guitarist. Everybody was Cupid these days, weren't they? By the time the fourth song was over, she couldn't concentrate anymore. The mic was tossed to Brian, who looked stricken, but it was too late to protest. Five-foot-two of Cajun was heading down the stage steps and cutting her way through the crowd.

He should've gone as soon as she'd seen him. Now she was going to come let him have it in public, right in the middle of her set, and he sure as hell couldn't back out now. He put the hat on, took it off again, and dropped it on the closest piece of furniture he could find, sliding his hands into his pockets at the last moment so he wouldn't reach out and touch her. Yes, the Walker knew fear like he had never before, and on top of that embarrassment. And on top of that regret. And never before had he wanted to undo something as badly as he wanted to undo ruining this relationship.

It was hard to read the expression on her face. Then again, that was mainly because she didn't know what she was feeling. Yanking her arm from an over-enthusiastic patron that was wanting to .. wish her well, she passed her own hat off to him. Merry Christmas. She had just interrupted and switched one of her own sets, on the last night she'd be singing for awhile, and by the time she got to Jace, the only thing she could think to say was, ".. hi." At least it wasn't 'what the fuck you doin' here, asshole', right? There wasn't anywhere to put her hands to keep them steady-- and off him-- so she crossed arms over her chest.

So the whole crowd would be watching this....like a teen movie. He stood there, dumb and awestruck, for as long as humanly possible, before he only barely managed to whisper, "You look beautiful." He instantly felt like an ass for saying it, but there just wasn't anything else to be said. He slid a hand out of his pocket, hesitated once, and reached up to tuck a
strand of hair behind her ear. This touch was followed by a hushed one-word apology, and the Walker stuffed the escapist hand pack into his pocket.

For the most part, the crowd's attention was drifting back towards the stage. Brian was doing his Stevie Ray Vaughn impersonation, and tearing hell on the guitar. He had the right voice for blues. Then again, Brian could've been playing 'Purple Haze' while tying one of her stockings around his head, and she wouldn't know. Chin tucking down a little, a faint smile appeared when Jace brushed her hair back. It took every shred of self control in her to
not hug the stuffing out of him. "Thanks. So do you," returned just as quietly, then she paused. "Well, I mean..." Meh. He knew what she meant. "Libby told you, huh?" Well no shit. It wasn't like this was plastered all over the news.

Green eyes widened and his hand escaped again to brush fingers over hers. "Please don't stop doing this," quietly, the pleading tone in his voice shadowed from all but the nosiest observers by the musicianship on stage. "She told me--Brian told her. Cam..." his gaze dropped briefly and then lifted again. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, I don't want you to give this up because I'm a jackass."

It took a moment to catch her breath when his hand touched hers, palm turning up so that she could tangle their fingers. Butterflies, all up in the midsection. "I'm not stoppin' because of what happened," started slowly, but then it was rephrased. "It helped me see somethin'." Like she had told Bren-- they all have to grow up sometime. "Tuesday mornin', I'm enrollin' into the local university," announced suddenly. That was her reason-- it was for her, and not because of him. "And I'm sorry for .. everythin', Jace. I didn't mean to hurt you either." God, much more of this and she was going to go total-spaz-girl.

He slid his hand up her arm, cupping her shoulder and drawing her closer--only just fighting the urge to slide his arms around her entirely. Head dropping, he tipped quiet words into her ear. "You were right, I'm afraid. Because of Shi, and that's not fair." He grazed a fingertip along her jaw and tilted her chin up, greens meeting her blues. "Please give me another chance..." if he had to say please again he'd start crying. That's just not cool in public. Already the rims of his eyes were showing red with irritation and the strain of fighting tears, soon it would be over.

No, crying in public was definitely not cool. It broke every rule in the 'Cool Manual'. By this point in time, she didn't give a damn if the barista from the coffee shop was standing on a chair like that guy in the 'Water Boy', yelling 'JUST DO EET'. "Okay." Simple. To the point. Too many words was going to invoke her own Niagara Falls rendition, so that was all he was getting vocally. The past couple of nights had been.. hell. Snf. Brian was about to play a victory march-- he was keeping an eye on the unfolding events. "I missed you." Okay, seriously, that's all she's saying, because tears were right there. Arms went around his shoulders, space be damned.

He'd never been so glad to hide his face in someone's hair, it never felt so good to hold someone as close as he did now. Strong arms fell around her as a weight dropped from his shoulders, and he lifted her right off the ground in a close hug that he didn't want to stop. He couldn't even tell her that she'd been missed too, because if he spent too much conscious thought on the situation, they were going to rift from here to a tissue factory. That's all she
wrote. He peppered a hundred kisses to her hair from the shade of that Panama, finally relaxing his hold enough to kiss her cheek and finally--a very tender kiss to her lips. Yes, he'd missed her too. Very much.

( taken from live play )

[cajun_songbird]

<center>Lie to me.
Tell me everything is alright.
Lie to me.
Tell me that you'll stay here tonight.

Tell me that you'll never leave.
Oh, I just try to make believe,
That everything -- everything you're telling me is true.
C'mon baby, why don't you just lie to me.

Lie to me.
It don't matter anymore.
It can never be the way it was before.
If I can't hold on to you,
Leave me something I can hold on to.
For just a little while won't you-- won't you let me dream.

Anyone can see that you love him more than me.
But right now baby, let me pretend,
That our love will never end.

Lie to me.
Go ahead and lie to me.
You know just what I'm talking about, baby.
Lie to me.
Go ahead and lie to me.
C'mon. C'mon baby, won't you.
I just want you to lie to me.</center>

( lie to me ; jonny lang )

[cajun_songbird]

<center>I'm never alone.
I'm alone all the time.
Are you at one?
Or do you lie?
We live in a wheel,
Where everyone steals.
But when we rise it's like strawberry fields.

If I treated you bad,
you bruise my face.
Couldn't love you more,
You got a beautiful taste.

Don't let the days go by.
Glycerine.

-----</center>

"We're all alone in thisss world."

The voice came from beside her bed, and slowly, eyes shifted over to bring the shadow into full view. There was no surprise this time-- just calm acceptance that ... it would always be there, in a place she couldn't reach and couldn't get rid of. Pushing the sheet away from her, legs swung over the side of the bed; fingers threading through her hair as elbows found her bare knees. "We're not all alone," replied softly, gaze resting on the floor. This prompted a gurgle of laughter from tar pitch lips, and the shadow moved away from the wall to stand directly in front of her. "Of coursssse we are, love. Look at where you are. Look at who you're with now." The barest hint of touch brushed across her chin, prompting her to look around the empty hotel room.

For a moment, her only reply was a shrug. Oilslick blackness mimicked the movement, over and over again, until it looked like it was having a convulsion. "You can lie to everyone elssse, and you can lie to yourssself, but you can't lie to me. I'm in here." A finger lifted to tap against the side of its head. "Alwaysss have been, alwaysss will be." Without warning, shadow covered hands reached out to grasp her by the upper arms, hauling her up from the bed. Stumbling with the sudden upwards motion, a brief swirl of vertigo washed over her brain, and she nearly fell to the floor. "No no no, I've got sssomething to ssshow you. Maybe you'll underssstand then." With that, it began dragging her towards the window, whether she was willing to go or not.

"I don't want to see," was whispered ... to the empty room once she was shoved towards the structure. Turning to glance over her shoulder to see where it was, the only thing that came into view was the rumpled bed and blinking alarm clock on the nightstand. Brows knitting in confusion, a slow glance was turned back towards the window, when the shadow jumped up directly in front of her and screamed, "Boo!" Recoiling, both hands going up in front of her as if to ward it off, it burbled to the floor in what appeared to be a smudge of smut, laughter filling the room like audible air. Reappearing directly behind her, a hand slid along the back of her neck, steering her forward. "You ssshouldn't be ssso nervousss," murmured in her ear. "Go to hell," was shot back promptly, which only induced another laughter fit. "It'sss not ssso bad there."

Without another word, she was shoved through the window, which exploded outwards like a rain storm of glass and splintered wood. Screaming, arms came up to shield across her face as a weightless feeling came over her, and slowly, eyes opened to watch the ground zoom up towards her. The only thought in her mind, Falling five stories is going to leave one hell of a mark.

* * * *

By the time the ground appeared to meet her, the surroundings had changed. Wincing at the sting coming from her palms, a glance down revealed gashes from the glass. Features twisted in annoyance at this, and without another sound, she pulled up gingerly to her feet. A quick look around revealed that she was at .. Envy. Incredulousness was beginning to seep in, and she turned to look around the room. The band was setting up on the stage, and Brian was fiddling with the microphone. Deja vu was starting to hit hard; swallowing thickly, a few steps were taken in that direction before Jace appeared in front of her.

"I don't think I've seen you do any other songs this way, Cam. When you do Prelude, you don't kiss anyone at the end, do you?" The accusation was flung at her with all the venom of an asp, and it caused her to backtrack to where she'd fallen. Mouth opening, the ability to formulate anything vocal seemed to abandon her in that moment. Head began shaking in a negative response, but the scene was to play out, whether she participated or not. "I just think it might be courteous to let me know you were gonna cat around before I moved your shit into the house and bought you stuff."

She could see the ring dropping to the ground, followed by the earrings he had given her. Hands going up to shove through her hair, lips parted then closed again as eyes darted around the room. The shadow began creeping its way from the stage to stand directly behind Jace, black hands finding shadow angled hips as it began mocking the other man. Every now and then, a finger would lift to shake mockingly at Cam. "I think your major problem is having it bad for a slough of dead guys." Rocking back on her heels, hands dropping from her hair so that the heels of her palms could dig into her eyes, she dropped into a crouch. "This is the past, this is the past, this is the past," was muttered over and over again-- a broken litany to block out the ugly words being spat her way.

"The passst isss alwaysss with usss." Wide, frightened eyes cut to the side, where the voice was coming from, and she was partially relieved to see that they weren't in the club anymore. Jace had disappeared, along with the accusations. "He didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt, did he? Jussst automatically asssumed that you were creeping around with sssomeone, and didn't give you a chance. Did he?" Yanking her up to her feet, both hands grasped hers as he lead them around in a circle. "It'sss okay, though. I'll alwaysss be here." The words were sly-- mischievous, and she almost expected him.. it, to be giving her that slitted innocent look. Instead, when she looked up, it was pointing directly ahead of them.

Des was standing in front of Roulette, the scalpel suddenly finding itself into the wood just beside the woman. Whatever he was saying, it was like she was underwater. There were sounds, but it was all muffled and lethargic. The maniacal laughter, the sudden movement, the.. threat. She could remember how scared she had been that night. How scared of him she had been. Scrambling backwards away from the scene, she turned and ran as fast as she could-- getting away from the sight. The feelings. "You can't run forever," drifted lazily from behind her. For all the effort, she was as good as standing still. "I just want to go home," was whispered to the empty space around her.

Coming to a stop on the corner, eyes lifted from the sidewalk to see where she was, when... "Please no." Directly across the street, three men were visible. Two which were dead now, and the other she didn't know. They weren't in Rhydin anymore. The sounds of jazz drifting from open buildings, the vintage cars streaming past, the smell of life and other darker things... "I didn't mean here..." Without waiting for prompting, she knew where they were going. Arms huddling across her chest, steps picked up and carried her behind the trio, eyes resting on one form in particular.

Sam's face was set in grim lines. Mario was on the right, and the other was flanking the left-- directing him towards where ever they wanted him to. Duck through this alley, head down this street, veer to this side.. Faster than she could blink, they were standing in a deserted warehouse, though she had no idea how they'd cover the distance in such a short time. Rather, she didn't until the shadow appeared beside her with a flourish of waving arms and chuckles. "How'sss thisss for coming home?" asked deviously as he pointed to the men. One was being knocked to his knees, while the other drew his gun..

"NO!" exploded from her before there was any chance to compose herself, and suddenly she was projecting forward. Walking turned to jogging, and by the time she began nearing the scene, the sudden eruption of a gun caused her to jerk to a stop. Sam's form crumpled forward at the waist, almost in slow motion, before he slid to the floor, a stream of blood pooling around his head to stain the floor.

* * * *

Jerking upright in the bed with a startled cry, the sheet was tossed from her legs with a hurried movement. Almost falling to the floor in her attempt to get down, she hurried to the window and stared out, cool glass pressing against her forehead as she leaned. Shoulders shaking from the weight of sobs, arms wrapped around her middle as she sank to the floor, head falling back to thump against the wall. A dream. It had been a dream. It was all a dre--

Fingers flexing, the pain was felt moments after it occured, and she glanced slowly to her palms. There was a ladder of criss cross cuts along her palm. Like she'd been trying to protect her face from glass....