Utrax

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Dollhouse}

Mariah didn't want to go.

Though it was never a stated thing, it was clear that certain places were aimed at certain individuals.
Every place had an audience. Hooters was for sad office workers that were dissatisfied with their wives at home, sports bars were for sad office workers that were dissatisfied with their wives at home, and the Dollhouse? Well, this place was for sad office workers that were dissatisfied with their wives at home. Said sad office worker was a very specific type of person, right down to their stereotypical appearance. They were a white straight, cis, male, and not a single thing that Mariah is.

She knew that going into here meant that she would be out of place. There wasn't going to be any blending in for her. She was probably going to get clocked and she was going to stand out no matter what she wore. So, when it came time to actually do her wardrobe, fix her make up, and walk out the door? Mariah didn't really try to tone down anything.

Yeah, it set something fluttering into her stomach-- her heart was practically pounding in her ears-- but when wasn't it? As far as she was concerned, most of the time when she left her apartment, she was already on stage. She had to perform for herself-- to prove to herself that she could be who she wanted to be-- so the world was her damn audience. That warm electrical feeling of power spread through her, reassuring her that this was when she was at her strongest. And so Mariah walked into this club, dressed to the nines, tens, and elevens, practically fucking glowing in her outfit and with her confidence-- that fearful form of courage that asserted the presence of the self.

So tonight, she was wearing an outfit that said very up front and just from a glance, 'I am not here to dance I am not here for your pleasure I'm just here to look good, for my damn self, to slay, because I am definitely dressed for a funeral.' This look walked straight out of the 50s Vogue Magazine.

Her long black dress sways as she walks, shimmering tastefully with sewn in silver thread. Atop her head is a wide brimmed black hat being an impractical but fitting crown for a Queen. Beneath her hat, a self-styled wig of gently cascading auburn curls, which end at her shoulders. Silver jeweled chain and earrings twinkle as stars in the night, even if they're bought from Wal-Mart. Those black gloves on her hands are dramatic-- plainly stating that whatever she's touching is too dirty for her bare supple skin to brush against. Of course, as if she wasn't tall enough, she wore some heels that elevated her past Amazon. To complete the look, her makeup was clearly done with the word sharp in mind, and her lips are blood red. She holds her fan in her hand-- along with a shimmering silver clutch purse that looks damn good for being dollar store clearance-- and she looks well prepared to fan herself, if she were to suddenly 'catch the vapors'.

When she drew attention, she was not caught by surprise. When there were sneers or some looks up-and-down, she completely expected them. Mariah was quiet but not tense as they stood in the club. Truthfully, she was still foggy headed from being BONKed by a horse hoof. Applying makeup, getting her outfit together, and meeting these people on time had used most of her mental energy, so she let herself go on cruise control, as it were. They went up the the VIP section and she followed, not entirely certain how they managed to get up here.

The dude said some stuff. Some guy. Man bun, bro.

Deeply sighing, Mariah stepped off to the side, choosing to stay standing next to the sofa Claudette plonked down on, and began fanning herself dramatically, looking every bit of the bored widow at her husband's funeral from his expected-- but surely-- unfortunate death. Hell, she wasn't even paying attention to anyone else in the room or anything in general. Wait? Was she supposed to introduce herself? Confused, she looks between Lyss and Claudette a few times, but doesn't say anything.

---

hello this is a post in a thread because ghost note told me to do it i am being held hostage

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Mall}

Mariah was pretty content to follow Isla around, answering questions or redirecting her away from security guards as needed. For the duration of their walk through the mall, Mariah mostly snickered at Isla's glee, and found that she was actually kind of enjoying her presence. Isla's energy was kind of refreshing and it weirdly reminded her of Tory-- though the amount of times the word 'fuck' had been said so far was severely lacking. As she would with him, Mariah let Isla's conversation carry itself-- not really bothering to respond unless there was an actual adequate pause for some. Usually people like this were more on the "thinking aloud" style of speech anyway. On the whole, Mariah really didn't mind it, as the adventure through the mall would be more entertaining with Isla's commentary.

Penny! PENNY!"

When Isla scooted off, Mariah took her time to catch up, not really bothering to keep pace. She could see Isla-- everything was fine. By the time she caught up, Isla was tossing questions her way-- “What’s after smoothies? I haven’t eaten yet, we should definitely get food… And shopping! Can adults go in that playground I saw earlier? Not that I want to, I'm just curious…” Mariah gave Penny a smile and a little wave, before glancing at the smoothie line, already making peace with the fact she was going to join it.

With a shrug, Mariah replied, "I mean, you can pretty much do anything anyway as long as nobody stop you, right?" Which was probably some kind of modern philosophy point. She stared up at the pretty glowing ceiling through her shaded lenses and added, "Food court here ain't bad. It'd be good fuel for shoppin'-- I got 'bout two-fifty from all them scratch of lotto tickets I had." Which had been a rather alarming amount of good luck, considering the situation surrounding said tickets. It was at this juncture that Mariah zoned out pretty hard.

She had got kicked by a horse yesterday-- a whole HORSE.

While she wasn't exactly in critical condition, the side she landed on was covered in a considerable amount of bruises and scrapes, and her head had been feeling kinda foggy since then. It was as if the horse had kicked out some a her brain cells-- or maybe they had decided to leave the place, in the face of such danger. And it was also at this juncture, that she noted her ability to understand what Isla was saying, had increased considerably. A smirk followed by a weird and low laughter escaped her then. Maybe getting Tory kicked by a horse would increase his grasp upon more words in English that weren't 'fuck'.

"Strawberry Banana," she head herself mumble.

Wherever Isla's hoodie went, Mariah followed, like some kind of yellow seeking zombie. She looked down and found a smoothie clutched in her hands. Without questioning it, Mariah went ahead and started sipping, only pausing to ask Isla, "What other kinda Miami stuff you wanna do? I'm free all day or whateva. Might go perform tonight tho. Wanna go try some fried gator?"

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Mall}

"Imma go find some shoes."

"First you insist on goin with me then you ditch me?"

Mariah pulled her thick-ass old people shades down to stare at Max. If her tone was any indication, she actually didn't give a shit, her smirk had to be the confirmation. They'd arrived outside of the mall closer to 4 than had been planned. Mariah had responded to Isla's text, saying that they should meet up somewhere outside of the Mall's many entrances, detailing enough landmarks that Isla might not get lost. So as Mariah moved to take a seat on a nearby planter, she waved a "shoo" gesture at Max as he made his way into the doors, then took out her fan and began her self-breeze. The night's previous escapades had netted her enough to pay the rent, with a bit left over as change, and she'd planned on spending something on a meal at least, if not pick up a bit of mall garbage.

She gazed into the parking lot, watching the people of Florida go about their business, and figured she really didn't have much room to judge those people today. This was mostly due to the fact she was dressed in a pastel pink zipper-front hoodie, with the sleeves completely cut off, that was host to a plethora of flamingos in various poses, with the outfit accented by some jeans cut off into booty shorts--despite her natural lack-of-ass, and she was wearing her favorite extremely worn white leather sneakers-- the ones where the leather had worn down to gray. Sure she was dressed like shit, but she was very much not going to carry herself as if she were, so she fanned herself with the elegance of an exhausted Queen, seated atop her palm tree planter throne, as a family of six, decked out in real-tree camouflage, walked by. She took her phone into her other hand and sent a quick message--

from -MainLineDrag☆
remember: dont go in meet me outside we gonna get smoothies first!

Mariah gazed that her name in the chat, the fact that it had to little verified sticker around it, and slightly considered the fact that maybe-- quite possibly-- she shouldn't have used her actual account for this group chat. In literally the next moment she realized she actually didn't care, then shrugged it off. Pretty much her plan today was to wander around aimlessly with Isla in the lead, make sure they didn't get arrested, and perhaps act of some kind of tour guide. Since Isla was from... Sss...Slovakia? Started with an S. Whatever. Since Isla was from out of town and definitely out of the country, Mariah figured she would have to introduce Isla to several American things. Cinnabon, fried gator, and scratch off lottery among them.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Road --> Heckin' Miami}

"Noooo, Jaaaaws," Mariah groaned in the spaced-out tone of someone with a concussion, "Not my pickle." An unmistakably apathetic edge was to her voice. There she was, in the parking lot of a gas station, handful of scratch off tickets, as a ghost dinosaur ate her pickle. So it went without saying that, for the rest of the trip, she went ahead and sulked about it, you know, a whole two seconds before she went to sleep again.

It was only when the vehicle rolled to a stop, after they arrived in Miami, that she actually woke up again. While of course, now would have been the time to actually asked what the fuck happened, Mariah instead exited the vehicle, immediately recognized her surroundings, then decided it was probably time to leave. She didn't even entertain the thought of going into the hotel. In fact, she made it clear that she was not going to stay in this particular hotel, with an off hand remark about finding days old condoms underneath the pillows on more than one occasion.

"I got a apartment near here anyway, sorta kinda," she finished, sounding very energetic, "So I'mma see yall in the mornin' or whateva." And of course, she barely waited for any sort of response before sauntering off into the night.

She took in a deep breath-- with it came the acrid scent of salt, sweet barbecue, and drunken piss on the humid Florida breeze-- Ah, Miami. MIAMI!

It felt good to be on familiar turf again. As she walked down the street, headed to a familiar Bodega, Mariah took her phone out, dialed a number, and immediately received an answer. "Baybeee," Mariah shouted into the phone excitedly, "I'm back in town, slide me on the strip tonight! The Mainline just pulled in, sis!" She snatched up a bagged pickle, went to the cash register to cash in a few of her lottery tickets, and practically fucking skipped out of the shop, continuing her conversation on the phone in RAPID Spanish.

Not only was she about to get into drag for the rest of the night, but she definitely was not going to sleep until probably seven am the next day. All that was left to do was round up her boys and hit the town. So all night she spent out, performing and socializing, running the streets as she usually did, and it was well past noon by the time she woke up the next day.

She awoke atop the heap of blankets and pillows and fluff, sprawled atop the mattress on the floor, that she called a bed. Sounds of of not so muffled voices drifted to her through her slightly ajar door-- which could only be kept closed by wedging a sock between the frame and the door itself. This sacred duty had been neglected by Drunk Mariah-- damn her. Any time that happened she always ended up waking to the sound of Tory's shouted conversation, because he simply didn't possess an inside voice, and Maxwell bordering on an argument with him-- thus was her current situation.

Groaning, Mariah grabbed one of her blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders, then proceeded toward the dining-room-kitchen-living-room-Max-bedroom-space-thing-- there was probably a word for it but who cares?

"--No, what I'm tellin' you's that's dumb. Real dumb. Dumber than ya usual brand of dumb," Maxwell was saying, "You gon' hunt a whole drug ring by yaself? Dumb."
"Ah, fuck you, ah yeah, ya, fucking you fuck no," Tory retorted, "No is not dumb you fuck."
"Where my--" but Mariah didn't have to finish the question, as Max slid her phone across their dining/card table. He went on bickering with Tory as Mariah scrolled through pictures and messages from last night silently. At the message from Claudette, which came twenty minutes ago, Mariah grunted, then put her phone down. As she turned away, Max piped up, "What's the plan today?"
Sucking his teeth loudly, Tory mumbled, "Changin' subject stupid fuck." Usually, that would at least get Max's attention, but he was instead staring at Mariah-- in a way that vaguely reminded her of suspicious cops.

Mariah pulled her blanket closer, mumbling, "Mall?"
"I'm comin'," Maxwell told her in a tone that was equal parts pleasant and insistent. She squinted at Max as Tory huffed a bunch of curses under his breath. With a shrug, Mariah turned to go get ready.
"--AYE! You goin to them stupid new friends you have?"
She halted, then stared over her shoulder at Tory with an arched brow.
"TELL THAT CROISSANT FUCK I SAY SHE A FUCK!"

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Yosemite Shell}

The noise of some serious Canadian crashing erupted behind her. Mariah had to admit then, that she had been pretty into her scratch off tickets, and wasn't paying attention to much else. As she looked over her shoulder, she not only saw a guy in a large-- A naked butt.

Why was his ass out?

Generally when you wear assless chaps you wear pants underneath them right?
Or something? Did it really matter?

That was all she needed to see as, quietly as she could, Mariah began gathering her things up. Luckily the teleportation of Penny and Isla happened at the right moment. Good. Surely that would be enough distraction for her to make her way out of the door, as this lunatic was a few paces away from her but she was definitely out of his sight, somehow. How had he managed to walk all the way past her?

--Isla and Penny? Was she having a weird dream again? Mariah blinked heavily, shook her head, and-- nope. That man's vaguely concave ass was still there.

Nightmare, then?

She gave one final glance to the gas station attendant, noticed that he was very subtly moving his hands underneath whatever gas station attendant desk thingy he stood behind, and he had the nerve to wink at her. Whatever weapon he was about to use to defeat double assless-man over there, she wasn't gonna stick around to find out. Mariah would have laughed if she wasn't already moving toward the door. That's right she just walked out. Of course, the door cling-y clang'd, but she took a very sharp turn out of it and began sprinting.

Here's precisely the order in which she saw things: First the horse, second Madison's car, next a spiral of asphalt and sky and asphalt, then finally all of her stuff strewn all over the ground. As she stared at the sky, she started to wonder if she should just start wearing a helmet around, whenever the coven was involved. And when she heard the hoarse snorting triumphantly, she suddenly understood why they were made into glue. An acute need to turn this beautiful majestic animal into a fine paste was burning within her.

"Motherfucker kicked me," Mariah admitted allowed to make the event more tangible.

Shocked, in pain, and dazed, Mariah was thankful that at least she'd thrown her items far enough away from the stupid thing, that she could gather them in relative peace. So there she was in a gas station parking lot, having been kicked by a horse, scrambling for scratch off tickets, a pickle, an open bottle of soda, and a very distressed bag of Takis.

Wait why was Madison's car here?
Oh yeah-- she still had no idea what was going on.

Skyfall: A Coming of Age Story

I could slide the outside groupies toward some non-gm necessary banter that'd get us into the castle to meet the other chumps...
Thats why I asked about the GM style cause sandboxing slightly would allow that.

But 2nd problem is GM aint been on in days lmaooo

[Open] [Remake] The Deep Blue Sea

@Squirrel98
He mentioned they were free to leave and go do whatever.
Hope this helps!

[Open] [Remake] The Deep Blue Sea

Prince Tol Anzi-de Carragua

^@AnyAlex

Prince Tol's head tilted to the side as he stared a Marcus. "You're... joking right? Surely even you can see that your say in this matter has been quite limited by Her Highness? Shaking his head, the Prince laughed before sharply continuing, "To make it so spelled out that even a daft barbarian could understand-- You're taking one of us. Which one is currently up for deliberation. But you're absolutely taking one of us." His temper was in the edge of his voice-- that short fuse practically sputtering.

Prince Tol straightened up then, almost looking regal, "Is that clear? When they tell you their decision, it will be up to you to either accept or state your preference."

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

^{The Road}

She slept in the dark and dreamless manner that was reserved for those in comas or the recently deceased. So it was that when Mariah woke up, it was less of a waking and more of a regaining consciousness. Disoriented, sweaty, and a little bit uncomfortably moist, her immediate first instinct was to get out of the car. As the bottom of her bare foot met the hot ass Florida asphalt, her delay in registering the pain, was only overshadowed by her gratitude, for having not stepped on a used meth needle. After sliding her tennis shoes on, which were in a heap along with the rest of her poolside items, Mariah adjusted her hat, slid her oversized fan between the top of her sweatpant-shorts and her hip, then practically shambled into the gas station store.

As salmon know instinctively to go back their spawning grounds, so does Mariah know how to find Takis in a gas station Market. Her half asleep walking lead her with homing precision the chips isle, over to the beverages where she quickly located a cream soda, and finally to the miscellaneous isle where she snagged a single hot mama-- a well aged cucumber, floating in a vinegary salty brine, within its innocent plastic containment unit. Surely this would be a tasty treat for such a long drive.

Which come to think of it, Mariah only figured they were driving because she happened to be in a car, in some random point in Florida's unknown midline, at some random gas station. Who was even driving? Had she happened to wake in the middle of a kidnapping? As she approached the check out counter, the dark skinned extremely Indian attendant stared at her in confusion, squinted at her selection of items, and met her apathetically exhausted gaze as she just shrugged at him. He smirked, shook his head at her, then eyed the security camera footage on a small tube TV, mumbling something about, "So many cowboy hats here at the same time today," as he rang up her items.

Mariah yawned and seeing as nobody else was in the line behind her, she eyed the large selection of lottery tickets, which could be scratched off with a coin to reveal cash prizes. "WIN BIG" insisted a sign on the plastic reel bin, which hosted several varieties of scratch-off tickets--costing anywhere from 10 cents to 5 dollars a piece.

"The fast 5 has been selling like crazy today," the attendant advised her smoothly. Pursing her lips for a moment Mariah eventually told him, "Yeah I'll get like twelve then." What a smile, the attendant went over to the lottery tickets, then began to pull a chain of FAST 555's out of their reel, counting them off under his breath.

She passed him two twenties, he passed her back a five and a bunch of coins, then leaned onto the counter, indicating with a tilt of his head, a small wooden podium next to the register, which was covered in the discarded remains of scratch-off lottery tickets.

With another shrug, Mariah went over to the little podium, opened up her cream soda, then began to scratch off her tickets, with a nickel, as the gas station attendant not so-subtly began making flirty small talk. The gas station door-bell clanged as someone else walked in, but nobody really paid any attention to it.