jescaiah

[jescaiah]

[jescaiah]

nearnehir​:

.

Nehir thought on it, finding the glow to be more reminiscent of an immortal. Something like—”Fae. Definitely fae. There’s just something so ancient, but beautiful. Like you’ve been doing this for centuries.” And Jescaiah certainly wouldn’t be a vampire. She wasn’t the kind that simply feasted off of other people to satiate herself. Nehir had always found her friend to be the right balance of greedy and giving. Something entirely unlike herself.

“I can’t tell if this room is making me fall in love with you, or I just badly need to make out with someone.” It could’ve been both. The haze in her own mind was blurring intended lines.

.

“You might be in love with me,” Jescaiah’s voice felt touchably soft, the velvety tone engulfing you in a tight embrace. To be quite honest, she couldn’t deny the feeling was mutual within this setting. Because the room of Lust was shadowed away from reality, even if it was rooted in it. Jescaiah and Nehir could rule side-by-side in their world if their values and beliefs were ever allowed. None of the fundamentals were important within these confines. The room of Lust had certainly made dreaming no longer feel foolish when she could reach out and touch a confidante so closely and personally. Jescaiah’s fingers curled around Nehir’s wrist, marvelously twirling the siren as if they were swimming gracefully against the tide. In and out, in and out they came and they went, the two women. They danced.

Illusions were shattered and Jescaiah’s heart was broken, as was the spell sewing their limbs into place. The scream she let out could have woken a village. Only on television shows had she witnessed a pool of blood feet in length, so deep, dark, and reflective. Jescaiah’s crown fell sideways, her body seized at the sight meant to be tucked away. She cried. “Body-Body! Body!” One word, the record of her soul scratching to repeat. She’d claim time and time again, her time bouncing between friends and the streets had wisened her. It’d never made her cold. 

In all of Jescaiah’s deaths, she could not have ever prepared for another's.

[jescaiah]

peterpfeiffer​:

Peter started to laugh in surprise, but he choked on the smoke from his joint instead and then spent the next thirty seconds hacking into his elbow while tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed once he could, “that was nasty. Sorry, wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Peter didn’t mind admitting it. “You for real?” A part of him was wondering if he was just too high and he’d misheard. 

It was by no means a no — in fact, as Peter awaited confirmation he considered all the benefits of a bit of crime between them. He liked working with Jescaiah in the restaurant, why not in the more savvy of businesses too? He was a pirate after all, and she’d just waved treasure in front of his eyes. 

“Loosen how?” Peter had a few ideas of his own, but thought it best not to come out guns blazing when he wasn’t sure how she operated when the gloves came off.

.

As would anyone, Jescaiah chuckled at Peter’s marijuana-induced struggles. Her eyes were rather glassy, her vision painting pictures with fuzzier strokes of a brush. It caused everything to be amusing. Weed goggles as they were. It seemed he found her idea equally comical through his experienced pair. That, or he was in disbelief she could pull this off. She couldn’t take offense to his questioning, because hadn’t this been Jescaiah’s intentions all along? You were meant to keep it under the radar. Only, this shark was ready to break the surface. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, don’t they?” And maybe she’d watched one too many films about casino heists. This would be no Ocean’s 11. Only a Diver and Quarter, but hey.

“Alcohol is the name of the game. Heavier pours. This won’t go unnoticed by customers, either. I don’t know about you, but when I go out for a drink, I’m picking the place that free pours. None of that filling up a shot glass shit. We’re gonna bring in drinkers, spenders. You know what those people become? Regulars. If I can figure out the schedule of a man who comes by once a month, imagine what we can do with a talkative Tommy who loves us down every Tuesday and Thursday.”

The further the plot came to fruition, Jescaiah believed. The irritating screech of the backdoor alerted them of the boss. It’s why no one ever WD-40′d the damn thing silent. “Talk later.” Her high ass hauled ass back into the kitchen to clock back in from break, glad to have left the line boy with something to ruminate on all evening.

the end. 🎪

[jescaiah]

eliasvelari​:

.

“Sure you’re all right with this?” Elias questioned, not even bothering to unlock the car, just hopping over the door into the driver’s seat. It was more about ease of access than trying to impress anyone. But he wouldn’t have minded if he did indeed catch someone’s eye by the action. Elias, despite his best efforts to not be so, thrived on the limelight. He never minded attention. Only, in most cases, it rarely gave him anything good to keep. Just more disappointment .

He looked over to the passenger’s side, opening up the door with a quick lean. “Does your phone have Bluetooth? You can be in charge of the playlist. Seems like a fair enough trade. I drive, you give me something to jam to.”

.

“You’re a Velari, aren’t you? I don’t feel safe because I know, but I feel safer knowin' everyone else knows you.” Jescaiah knew there were nuanced layers to the status celebrity. It’s why she wasn’t chasing that limelight purposely. “You can’t get away with much, can you? Good or bad?” Not much managed to wiggle past her. She playfully rolled her eyes at him and entered the car as a normal person would.

You could throw one stone and still hit thirty lovers of pop. It’s why its name was popular. If you asked Jescaiah why she scrolled through her music app until she hit the top one hundred songs of the month, you’d receive a thought-out answer. Something about everybody knowing a tune and being able to hop in at any given chorus was infectious, that’s why. She didn’t so much as settle as purposely choose the most-known song of the year to add life to the already purring motor of the BMW. With her gym bag stuffed underneath the dashboard, Jescaiah’s short legs had enough room to comfortably settle herself into the passenger seat. The music had been chosen before a buckle had been clicked. Her upper body moved to the tune.

“You ever taken this thing through a late night drive-thru? A lil burger and fries action.”

[jescaiah]

orlaithrose​:

Bernie’s impatience only grew as Orlaith got back to the task of sorting out her breakfast, her bat like ears quivering with anticipation. Her internal clock wasn’t set off by time, but by whenever Orlaith got home from the hospital— that was always feeding time. They were both unused to a break in that routine, but hadn’t Orlaith hoped to make new friends? A lifetime of isolation had left her desperate for affection she was hardly going to get from a missing mother and a disinterested father. Once the food was set down, she held her hands up in assurance. “No, no, just getting in. I’m on nights this week. You might have noticed I keep weird hours— that’ll be the hospital.” One week she was out all night and sleeping all day; the next she was gone all day and asleep all night. “That might explain the smoking. It’s hard to be a good sleeper when you’re schedule is all over the place. A little something to help doesn’t hurt.” 

Having brought up the topic of weed, Orlaith opened a drawer and pulled a small baggy out. She slid it across the counter towards her neighbour— Jescaiah. “Here, take this, I have plenty elsewhere.” Her dad’s money helped keep her well stocked. “It’s the least I can do when you’ve brought over so many treats. I’m Orlaith,” she thought to add, introducing herself too, voice lilting ever so slightly around the curl of her name; or-la. 

.

Many a sight had been witnessed walking along the streets of Obsidian. The further out you braved for travel, the more you’d encounter. She wished she was the type of person who didn’t lead with judgment, but upon a closer second look at the feline, Jescaiah wasn’t sure you could classify it as a cat. Her lips did not betray her by flying open at this moment. She’d been known to tell the truth too harshly at times. But with the simple reminder of the difference between truth and opinion, Jescaiah was able to swallow away the argument with herself and gently pet the back of the creature who doddle off for its feast. “Hospital, right,” chuckled Jescaiah. “That’s what I should assume when hours are strange. It’s the safer option. I’m a dancer, so, I see things and I might’ve assumed you were a really pretty prostitute. I’m sorry,” the knotted eyebrows showed remorse. She laughed at her own stupidity. “Well, if I, unfortunately, land myself at the hospital, you could say I’m askin’ for Dr. Orlaith’s herbal supplements.” You could smell the contents of the bag without so much as unzipping the plastic.

“So I dance at The Admyr some nights. It’s why my feet are singing to high heaven right now pleading me for a damn release.” Her feet were bundled in thick socks and plush slippers. They were her one and only luxury items. Her feet were her money makers, after all, and not only in the OnlyFans kind of way. “You have time to smoke up now?” Besides the staff at Diver’s and the girls at the club, Jescaiah couldn’t think of whenever she smoked with another without the purpose of escaping work. On the comfort of a couch, in a robe, in slippers. That seemed to be a real simple luxury one was missing out on.

[jescaiah]

walledupward​:

.

“Well, aren’t each species just like humans? All just a bunch of different people with personalities and quirks?” he asked. Though Tristan certainly felt humans were lacking in anything that truly set them apart. Each species seemed to have their power and strengths. Werewolves had their shape-shifting abilities. Banshees had their screams. Sirens had their songs. Humans seemed to simply lack the ability to do anything fantastical, instead taking their prize in being able to be greedy and cruel enough to compete with other species around here. 

Tristan lost his train of thought as she mentioned security. “Probably twofold, isn’t it? Keep the rest of us in line and make sure we don’t steal anything too valuable.” He doubted walking out with bottles of fancy liquor and food would even make the cut for being valuable at all. “And make sure nothing too heinous happens on site that could cause trouble for them.” He supposed that also qualified as keeping the Pendragons safe, safe from any really big scandal or fallout. Of course, they had money to cushion any kind of trouble that occurred here. Money had a way of making all that disappear, funnily enough. “Bet either way, you could distract them for us just fine,” he added to her. Just like a guard dog being thrown a rare steak, security could surely be easily distracted as such. 

“Yeah, well, I fucking hope you didn’t pay for these. I’ll never wear this again,” he grinned, though, as he looked down at the over-the-top outfit he wore. Compared to his usual jeans and t-shirts, it was almost suffocating. Somehow, though, the drinking made it better. 

Tristan moved through the crowd easily, able to part it due to his height. Even when heels were involved, he seemed to still be taller than most. “Who would you kiss to get through to the next circle here?” he asked. 

.

The best of everyone simply did not exist. It was easier to search for the worst. It’s how she knew humans were as monstrous as the violent beasts who roamed the island alongside them. However, her ignorance could only be stretched so thinly. She did not possess claws, fangs, fins, glowing eyes, or bloodlust. To compare their human selves was foolish at times when their brains processed the same emotions through the same factory, but their bodies were trained in opposite arenas. “Quirk is the keyword,” she spoke as they maneuvered through the crowd. Just two lowly humans, no one paying mind to the conversation they had. She spoke freely, without whisper or fear. “I, personally, don’t have a quirk of needing to sink my teeth in a living being’s arteries to survive. Do you?” Her brows were raised in a manner that suggested she already knew his answer. The worst of their ‘quirks’ were, what? Horniness? Oh, for shame.

“God, you are an outfit repeater.” Quite often she would make the most obscure references whether Tristan knew what she was speaking of or not. Eventually, he’d get it. Eventually, she’d earn such a deep chuckle she’d attend an open mic night for young comedians. Being in the sight of legacy and luxuries surely had the girl’s brain swirling with dreamy thoughts. Silly ones, too. It was something, she had to admit, she hadn’t felt in so long. 

Jescaiah glided through the room as if she rode clouds. Her experience in dancing in high heels had prepared her for an evening of impressing the well-mannered and elegant. Crazy, how her seedy ways had heeded the same results. Almost as if dancing nightly in the club wasn’t immoral at all. 

Clouds were always moving, weren’t they? The sun goddess couldn’t stay put, traveling along the cumulus runway. Since the topic of security was fresh on her mind, her golden glossed lips morphed into a playful smile. “If security can’t be tempted by me, give a shout when you find someone tall, dark, and handsome. Who looks like Oscar Isaac. Or a young Idris.”

the end. 🎪

[jescaiah]

screamingspector​:

.

“What? And everyone has to relate?” he asked. It was part of the appeal for Zyrynd, really, not needing to relate to everyone, to feel like he was, indeed better, because of his money and the power it granted him. “What fun would there be in that if we all had the same experiences and lives and could relate to one another? That’s what empathy is for, isn’t it?” 

Zyrynd watched as the car he had ordered had pulled up. The driver rolled down the window to confirm his identity and he merely nodded. “I believe your ride has arrived,” he said as he gestured to the car. Like I said, we don’t have to relate, but I suppose you don’t have to worry about my intentions anymore, do you? For what it’s worth, I found this very enjoyable, even for as on guard as you were. Have a nice night.”

With those words, he turned around. Despite her stubbornness, Zyrynd liked the challenge of someone who didn’t respond to him the way he had come to expect. No, instead, he could find another way to work around it. For now, their paths would diverge, but at least when they crossed again, he might be better prepared. He didn’t bother to look back to see if she would take the ride or not, instead disappearing around the corner and into the shadows of the night. 

the end.

[jescaiah]

nearnehir​:

.

Nehir was busy clapping raucously for her friend, happy to cheer her on from the sidelines as she had long passed the point of being able to stand effectively. “You’re just so talented.” This was much nicer than Nehir usually managed to be, something about the added alcohol, not to mention the mist in the air, turned her into someone more pleasant to be around. One might even consider her to be selfless in that moment. But let it be known, she would have been trying to dance like Jescaiah if she could be upright without wanting to spin down to the floor. “You’ve spin like, fifty times in a row. I don’t even think you’re human.”

.

Everything made sense the more she spun herself into a fairytale of the Lust circle’s creation. Nehir was amazed by her legs, her hips, and her trained body which executed top-of-the-line choreo. Things were not falling the other way around and Jescaiah couldn’t let it go. “What would I be?” she asked, a tone so acutely hushed only the trained ears of a friend could pick her out. “If not human?” Nehir was an ethereal being in the eyes of all, was she not? This led to the human hoping the siren would compare them. Jescaiah needed Nehir to wish them to be the same. She stopped in front of her friend, licking her dry lips.

[jescaiah]

walledupward​:

.

“You think there’ll be blood?” Trsitan asked as he made a face. He supposed that’d be his limit.  He wasn’t sure what capacity the blood would be in but he was not fighting anyone nor hurting himself or other people for the sake of this. “Rich people have some fucked up hobbies if that s’the case. That’d probably be my limit, too,” he admitted. “’M not about to fight anyone, anyway.” 

Despite his tall demeanor, Tristan was likely as docile as they came. He might come off one way, but in truth, he was far from looking to get into it the same way others might be eager to jump into the fray. 

“You think they’ll care if you stash one or two of what has to be hundreds of bottles at this place?” he asked seriously as he looked around himself. 

.

“I’m shocked we weren’t forced to drink a Pendragon’s blood for entrance. Ethereum is only slightly better in taste, I am guessing. Did you know some people can change species by simply drinking a vampire’s blood? I wish each species would label itself, its motives, and its rules. I’d like to know what I’m walking into.” Jescaiah talked a big game, for a woman who was foolishly enchanted the moment they walked inside together. Her eyes hadn’t left the sight of extravagant balls, glasses, and décor. She thought with pursed lips, assessing the situation, “Alright, then what’s security for? To keep us safe, or them?” It was dramatic to voice. Or was it? She’d sooner look a clown to be safe than sorry. Thankfully, she still remained a sunshiny goddess. Security was all muscles, however. Maybe they were additional eye candy for Jescaiah herself.

“Lucky for us, I rented these costumes with my fake. You know, in case they got ruined. Or we became thieves in the night.” 

[jescaiah]

WHEN: 10.31.22; sometime between 12 p.m. - 6 p.m. WHERE: Helloween; Lust WHO: Jescaiah + Nehir ( @nearnehir )

The magical moment had occurred hours ago now. There was no straying from the room of the Lust, for blood. Not when the air was so light, her pirouettes were smoother than ever before. It had taken abandoning the tight dress in the process, but the slip underneath became her new fashion piece. The temperate between this circle and Limbo was vastly different, so less clothing was the largest relief. Again, she rose to her toes and let out a pleasurable sigh as she hit her queue perfectly once more. She was the best goddamn dancer here, wasn’t she? This circle had gone to great lengths to prove so.

[jescaiah]

walledupward​:

.

“You dare me?” asked Tristan. He almost scoffed if only because it wasn’t even a challenge. Truth be told, he was already planning on trying to sneak as much as he could from tonight’s affairs so that he might be able to hold onto the luxury just a little bit longer. Tristan always made himself out to despise the way the rich lived and conducted themselves, and it was mostly a true sentiment, but damn if he wouldn’t like to party like this on a regular basis. He didn’t quite fit in, but did anyone really? It felt like such a facade one way or another. The masks almost felt symbolic of exactly that. 

“There’s got to be a way to sneak some food out with us, too. Something to eat when we go home,” he said as he looked around as if trying to devise this plan, despite their just having arrived to this. As such, Tristan started to make his way towards the food that was being provided, looking back to make sure his roommate was still nearby.

“How far you reckon you’ll make it?” he asked as he gestured towards the journey the party was meant to take you on. He could already see the next door that was meant to be pass through from where he stood. Granted, he stood taller than most, so he could see a lot from almost any place in the room, save for any elaborate masks that may have been made to be tall and blocked his view. 

.

This must’ve happened before, for them to stroll into this party with their eyes on a whole other prize. The kitchen at work sent food home nightly. Diver’s Steakhouse was most likely losing money due to its staff taking advantage of amenities. Jescaiah had traveled home with her fair share of burgers and fries late at night for her and Tristan to scarf down in front of the television set before bed. They didn’t keep the best on the long public transit ride home, but they were better than anything they could’ve thrown together. 

“I’m out the second I see blood. I can’t handle blood. What about you?” Jescaiah could deal with her own. She’d stomached the pain many times, tending to her own dancing wounds which happened more than you’d believe. In fact, at the moment, her legs were littered with bruises from an intense routine she’d been rehearsing on nights off. Thankfully the golden gown highlighted her features, rather than her flaws. She squinted, no doubt in need of an update on her contact prescription. “Do you see the next door? On the off chance a Pendragon sees me stashing bottles in my bosom and I need a getaway.” 

[jescaiah]

walledupward​:

For what may have been the first time ever, Tristan actually felt dwarfed in a metaphorical sense by the elaborate costumes and masks that people wore. He still towered over most, but his heigh suddenly felt inconsequential in a room full of people who had put their best foot forward. His roommate had been no exception tonight as she rivaled some of the more complicated outfits with her headpiece that made her a quite literal sun goddess. 

“Yeah, just whatever she s’having,” Tristan said to the waiter who had been drawn to her before he was walking away. “So, this is what it must be like to have money.” He let out a low whistle. “Seems like a lot of work if you ask me.” 

.

The edges of the party are where she’d remain for the evening, when not moving through circles. The sight of the dancefloor, of course, had her second-guessing the previous notion at a moment’s notice. Though, to be honest, she was waiting to see if anybody had precision with each step they took. If she was going to throw herself in the middle of a crowd, it’d been with someone who also knew what they were doing when it came to the arts of dance. Jescaiah sighed. It wasn’t dreamy, even if her brain swirled with images of herself requiring this much luxury. It wasn’t all bad, she thought. She still tutted and shook her head in disapproval at the frills, and at herself for even considering this lifestyle a worthy option. Anything felt better than swinging between multiple jobs. Rich people had the opportunity to be fulfilled. They were rich in more than gold.

They were first graced with champagne, but even as short as she was, she could see waterfalls of other beverages to choose from. The top shelf variety, which she only ever served at Diver’s Steakhouse. Drunk customers would occasionally buy her a drink, as a tip. She hated to admit the smoothness was worth more than the ten percent cash tip, but it was. She clinked her glass to Tristan’s. “I think you have an inner pocket to that suit. I dare you to sneak us a bottle home.” There was also an empty flask stuck to a garter underneath her gown. They could fill and run, too. “Those trouser pockets are pretty deep too. Maybe two.”

[jescaiah]

WHEN: 10.31.22; sometime between 12 a.m. - 6 a.m. WHERE: Limbo WHO: Jescaiah + Tristan ( @walledupward )

.

A Cinderalla story had been in the making upon the invitations gracing their post boxes. The audience’s approval had only caused her to go shy underneath it, multiple gazes reaching the goddess of sun as she entered with her roommate to her side. She glittered underneath exquisite chandeliers, shining the place bright all on her own. So much so, a waiter specifically sought her out to offer a drink. Jescaiah knew she couldn’t become obsessed with the life of luxury, even if it had caused her to feel at home the same way Twinkies and Heineken had. What could she say? She was multifaceted. She quietly thanked the waiter, nursing the drink rather than consuming it. “Don’t forget my friend, please,” she nodded a head towards Tristan, the curly fringe on her forehead bouncing.

[jescaiah]

screamingspector​:

.

“I don’t know, I’ve met plenty of lost people in this world,” said Zyrynd. “Besides, what about the people who think they know what they want and when they get it, it’s not actually what they thought it would be.” Zyrynd had seen that plenty of times in his line of work and in the world he inhabited. “But you’re right,” he went on, “plenty of people know what they want and not how to get it. I would even say sometimes those people don’t even want it that bad. A lot of times those who know what they want will figure out a way to get it. That’s what ambition does to a person, you know.” People had a way of getting comfortable, anyway.

Zyrynd couldn’t help but laugh at her assessment. “Now, what would make you say that?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night and we’re waiting for your car and just making some pleasant conversation. Fuck knows small talk is the worst. May as well make it interesting.” He blew some smoke out as he finished this first cigarette already reaching for the second he had the foresight to get out. 

.

“You and me, we don’t relate.” Again, the information from her soft voice didn’t sound terrifyingly blunt. You could, however, see the sincerity of her eyes and how they seemingly narrowed as if to make her point. Jescaiah knew she had drawn that conclusion only moments prior, but it had been a slip of her good faith. The only person to pull things over on Jescaiah was herself. Herself with her kindness. Now, instead of finding the ways to relate to him like she’d do with co-workers and neighbors to get along with, she focused on their opposites. They’d likely not see each other again.

Safety had slipped her mind, annoying at her own fake willingness to carry on a conversation. Yes, Jescaiah loved small talk, but she hated small talk with men in the early hours of the night without anyone else around. This city had beat the innocence and curiosity from her altogether. It could’ve brought missed connections and opportunities, but god, all of that was much better than being hurt. “I say it because you’re trying to find ways to make us relate. Won’t that make a person lower their guard? I don’t relate to rich boys, sorry. Besides, you are asking loads more than I am.” And I can talk a fair amount, she could’ve added.

[jescaiah]

screamingspector​:

.

“I’m not even sure most people even know what they want to begin with. That’s what sets you apart, isn’t it? You clearly know what you want. You clearly also know what you do not want.” Despite his less than sober state, somehow Zyrynd’s observational eye was still sharp even when his sense were dulled. He could still read people better than most. “Goals, aspirations, that’s what people lack, but not you.” She felt more put together than most. Although he couldn’t quite tell if that was part of a facade or if she really did have it figured out for herself. 

He chortled. “What makes you think I’m waiting to be asked anything? In fact, I usually ask most of the questions.” Now that he had ordered the car for her, he put his phone away, She now had his full and undivided attention. She was a harder read than most people he came across. That intrigued him. 

.

“Everyone knows what they want. They might not know how to get it, is the difference. That sets both of us apart, I would say.” Jescaiah assumed his life, when the sun was up and the crevices were exposed, was one he’d yearned for at one point. Like she, he knew what route it took. That was all she wished to divulge tonight, because the picture he was stating was already painting the word ‘Jescaiah��. It was safe, to keep strangers guessing. The car wouldn’t even drop her directly at Treaty Towers. An eyebrow rose on its own accord. Jescaiah’s face usually exposed her inner thoughts. It did not matter, if words weren’t there to verify. If pen wasn’t put to paper. It wasn’t so much that she was curious about him and wishing to learn more. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Jescaiah wanted to be correct in her shallow thinking of him. It was definitely possible Jescaiah had also read The Art of War for jokes once and this was the only time in her human existence that sort of thinking would matter. Know thy enemy, she recalled.

“You’re Sun Tzu-ing me.”

[jescaiah]

golden goddess