vedajane-rp

[vedajane-rp]

Graverobber chuckled at Ava’s questions. His hand rummaged through his bag, pulling out the gun, a vial in between two fingers. He knelt down, putting the two together. 

“Oh, he’s a watcher.” Veda’s head turned to the click echoing through the room. She grinned, as she knelt down beside him and held her hand out. That sound. Oh, god, the sound of the vial clicking into the gun pulled her right out of the trance she was in as she tried to navigate what was going on. There was no way in hell, she would let Graverobber do their job where she rests her head at night. And not only that. It was Ava. Her body needed a gentle hand. V > G. 

Veda chuckled, sucking her teeth. The anxiety of worlds colliding and the fear of people being able to place her in this world were gone. It was all fire now. Him showing up uninvited, she was mad. But now she felt disrespected and he was going to know about it. “Come on, we all know you watch Miss Sweet all the fucking time… on the streets I never sell on.” She wiggled her fingers, her head motioning to the gun and then to her hand. He had his territories. Veda never crossed him like that.

Graverobber heard exactly what he was saying and he looked down at her wiggling fingers. He matched her grin as he dropped the gun into her hand. “You’re right, I am a watcher,” he chuckled. He stood up and crossed his arms, his mind going a mile a minute. Was Veda aware of who Ava knew? He couldn’t picture V putting herself in harm's way like that. “Especially for this.”

Veda completely turned to Ava, her eyes rolling at Graverobber’s response. Her cold hand touched the side of her thigh, trying to find a spot without a bruise in the shitty dim light. “I probably should’ve done this earlier, my apologies, Ava.” She softly smiled as the gun met Ava’s skin. She pulled the trigger. Spark.

Graverobber cleared his throat. “Ahhhh, that’s right, Avaaaa.” Every thought about Ava finally made all the sense he needed. “Frankie kept calling her Eva the night that fuck bought me out.”

Veda’s soft smiled dropped. She stared at Ava as the zydrate did its job. Her eyes narrowed, as the anxiety that left slowly crept back up into her shoulders. “Interesting,” she breathed. “You know Frankie? Or I mean, remember… Frankie…” she trailed off, not trying to hit a nerve especially after a hit of glow. If he was the one… He’s dead. Or me first.

part ii i guess lol

The moment Ava stood up, Veda’s eyes tunneled directly on her and did not move. There was a strong urge to move closer, ‘just in case’, but she kept her cool. A ‘hero edit’ was not her style. As Ava offered a counter to Graverobber, her breath got caught in her throat. It was exactly she needed in this moment to collect her thoughts and navigate what was happening in front of her. Don’t say anything. Keep it shut. 

Graverobber smirked, sticking a hand into his pocket, getting a little comfortable. The closer Ava got, the more recognizable he was. The voice. The slight attitude. When she said G, his ears instantly perked - it all clicked. For the last few weeks, she was a new face amongst a group that were pretty much his number one clients - the Russos, very close friends to the Largos. The way she looked a few nights before left him with a little worry for her - she was almost lifeless, hanging on to Frankie as he gave her a shot of glow. He did remember being impressed at her being able to say ‘stick me with it’ with her eyes in the back of her head. So, seeing Ava here, in Veda’s spot, was definitely not what he had expected. And he knew they didn’t expect it either.

A sloppy grin slapped across his face. As alarmed as he was deep down, this was fun for him. He knew Veda could handle anything put in her way - and apparently Ava could too. “No one,” Graverobber returned the same low tone. He slipped his hand out of his pocket to reach into his bag. “Speaking of being a customer.” He pulled out a glowing vial, their faces all illuminated from the Z. “Did you need? I bet I could put it on someone’s tab.”

[vedajane-rp]

part ii i guess lol

The moment Ava stood up, Veda’s eyes tunneled directly on her and did not move. There was a strong urge to move closer, ‘just in case’, but she kept her cool. A ‘hero edit’ was not her style. As Ava offered a counter to Graverobber, her breath got caught in her throat. It was exactly she needed in this moment to collect her thoughts and navigate what was happening in front of her. Don’t say anything. Keep it shut. 

Graverobber smirked, sticking a hand into his pocket, getting a little comfortable. The closer Ava got, the more recognizable he was. The voice. The slight attitude. When she said G, his ears instantly perked - it all clicked. For the last few weeks, she was a new face amongst a group that were pretty much his number one clients - the Russos, very close friends to the Largos. The way she looked a few nights before left him with a little worry for her - she was almost lifeless, hanging on to Frankie as he gave her a shot of glow. He did remember being impressed at her being able to say ‘stick me with it’ with her eyes in the back of her head. So, seeing Ava here, in Veda’s spot, was definitely not what he had expected. And he knew they didn’t expect it either.

A sloppy grin slapped across his face. As alarmed as he was deep down, this was fun for him. He knew Veda could handle anything put in her way - and apparently Ava could too. “No one,” Graverobber returned the same low tone. He slipped his hand out of his pocket to reach into his bag. “Speaking of being a customer.” He pulled out a glowing vial, their faces all illuminated from the Z. “Did you need? I bet I could put it on someone’s tab.”

[vedajane-rp]

As the words spilled from her lips, Veda tried to gauge Ava in all aspects - from her eyes and how they looked, to her demeanor, down to the validity in the story she shared. She was alarmed; mainly because she wanted to taste the blood of whoever rocked Ava’s shit. She was seconds into over analyzing her feelings when her mind abruptly stopped as footsteps echoed above them. She looked up, her eyes squinting as she concentrated on the direction of the sound. “Who the fuck,” she breathed, instinctively standing up, not forgetting to make sure Ava remained covered. She looked at her, motioning to be quiet and flashing a smile - a signal of safety.

As she walked slowly around the basement corner, Veda pulled a switchblade from her bra. She stopped tiptoeing as the footsteps above stopped. All the locks were picked, the sound of clicks rang down the steps. As she released the blade, Veda’s eyes, beady and basically black, stared at the stairs as the echoed footsteps descended, her body instinctively taking position - one foot to brace, one foot ready to go.

“Uh, are you really about to knife me right now, V? I’m not you-know-who.”

The words caused Veda’s focused eyes to instantly roll, her shoulders falling in annoyance. The shadow walking down the steps finally had a face: Graverobber. “Well, maybe you should fucking knock, G,” Veda mocked, as she instantly concealed her blade at the sound of his voice. Her eyes darted between Ava’s face, illuminated by the flashlight, and Graverobber’s outline. She instantly felt cornered, her privacy was invaded. The walls around different parts of her world were shaking at their foundations.

“Listen, I’m only here to make sure he didn’t getcha.”

She took a few steps towards Ava. She shrugged with a breathy laugh. “I’m apologizing now for anything and everything. His filter is nonexistent.” She turned her attention to Graverobber, who’s face was twisted once he realized it wasn’t just them. Their eyes met and Veda couldn’t take it anymore. She never came up with an escape plan for something like this. As anxiety filled her chest, her shoulders started to tense. She felt like a little sister, getting caught by her older brother.

“Wait, am I interrupting somethiiiing?” He raised a brow, elbowing Veda’s arm. He meant well, Veda knew that. But like, really? Right now? He flashed a smile to Ava. “Hello madame,” he tipped an imaginary hat, bending at the knee. As he lifted his head back up, he caught a good glimpse of Ava. He raised a brow. He saw tons of faces a day. But hers definitely struck him. She looked familiar. And he couldn’t place why.

Veda, on high alert, caught the twist in his face. She laughed to herself as her mind ran with this introduction. Or should I just go find the infamous Graverobber? Think he’ll help me if I blow him? Well if she didn’t know him before, she does now. Veda noticed he couldn’t stop staring at Ava and she back handed his arm. “Staring is fucking weird.”

Graverobber shot a look at Veda. She caught him. And he couldn’t deny it. He grinned, a chuckle coming with it. “I’m just surprised you’re not fucking alone.” In his head, every encounter he’s had ran through his head.

It was Ava’s bright blue, might as well be dead eyes that reminded him of... something. ”I apologize,” he said as he looked at Ava. Beyond him trying to figure out who she was, he saw there was obviously something going on. The bruising, the fact she was in Veda’s hideaway, the emptiness in her eyes. He couldn’t really ignore it, especially because he walked right into it - he wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. The words started to come up his throat. “This reminds me of a weird version of Thelma and Louise. What happened? Are you okay?”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Loud. She said he was loud. Veda’s mind did a quick run through her mental records. She had all the resources to figure out who did this to Ava even with as little as information as she seemed to have. Living a low key lifestyle, she gained a strong reputation that she was very aware of. She has been in so many situations with so many unsuspecting people - there wasn’t anyone she didn’t know, even if it was just by a degree of separation. In the times of transplants and addicts, she found herself doing transactions with the elite~, the scum, and the drifters. Exactly why she found herself in this current situation.

At Ava’s question, Veda felt her cheeks warm up with embarrassment, anger stemming from that. She turned her head to move her gaze forward. Her eyes met empty canvases as she searched for the perfect thing to say. A soft giggle escaped her lips, shrugging her shoulders. “Quite a while,” she finally choked. She turned to look back at Ava, their eyes meeting instantly.

“Long enough to look like a fucking idiot,” Veda quickly added before snorting a laugh. “While waiting, the club did ask about you. But I didn’t have much to tell them.” Maybe that’ll be some good news.

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

I don’t have my violin anymore rang in Veda’s ears. Her brows furrowed, confusion starting to set into her gaze. But as Ava continued, the confusion was quickly replaced with a quiet rage. Her furrowed brows separated, one raising into a perfect arch as her eyes sat low but directly on Ava. She let her get her words out, a selfish sense of relief came with along with her story. The theories Veda put in her own head about why Ava didn’t show up were suddenly debunked and she couldn’t help the tinge of feeling better - amongst the rage.

Without even a thought, once silence overtook the room, Veda sat up and carefully slid her arm around Ava’s waist. She kept her eyes on her, the look on her face softening. “I looked for you everyday,” she managed to say. “I was fucking pissed but I just, you know...” her words trailed off, unsure where to go with that. Not really the best thing to say to someone. She shook her head, as if she was starting that moment over. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” Her hand ever so gently gripped Ava’s side, when she actually just wanted to give her a hug. But how does one just... hug.

Veda let go of Ava’s waist, just to set it on her thigh. Her gaze was soft. She wanted to let her know she was safe now. She was just trying to find the right way to say it. “Do you need anything? How can I help? You know,” she continued on, her face falling into a playful yet murderous glare. “Before I crack fucking skulls open.”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

As Ava undressed, Veda followed suit. She took off her jacket and her pants, throwing them on a random lawn chair she acquired in a strange deal. Now she was in her element. Her eyes wandered over to Ava, putting on her first layer. The bruising slapped Veda in the face. She knew that type of bruising. She looked away fast - don’t make her uncomfortable - trying to focus on something else. She rubbed her face, trying to hide any inclination of what she could be thinking. I need to know who did this. They will pay. Her attention was grabbed at the pounce on the pillows. Veda smiled the second she saw Ava in her hoodie. She hated that she liked it. She felt like a stupid girl.

Veda plopped down next to her, melting into her own bed. It was her safe space. She reached behind her, grabbing a blanket and covering herself with it, sharing the other half with Ava. Her eyes mirrored her actions, strong with empathy, soft with kindness. She flashed a smile before leaning back onto her elbows. A part of her wanted to invite Ava into her arms, help her warm up, let her feel something other than pain. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Is this the part where I’m allowed to ask ‘what the fuck’ or does that come later?”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda’s eyes followed Ava’s hand, the simple touch sending chills down her spine. She remembered Ava’s skin being cold to the touch, but this was borderline lifeless. She nodded, putting the loaded gun back into her bag. She was impressed, almost moved by the gesture. Veda instinctively took Ava by the hand and did what she was told, lead the way. 

The walk to Veda’s squatter’s paradise was quiet and quick. With their hands interlocked, she kept Ava by her side, eventually coming to wrap her arm around her loosely trying to keep her balance steady and to have her close. It was so easy to blame any out of pocket feeling the last time she saw Ava on the moon, the zydrate, the tongue on her scar. But there was nothing this time. This was a clean cut decision that she made. And when she looked over at Ava as they arrived to their destination, she knew she had made the right decision.

They stood in front of an abandoned house - two story, wrap around porch, all broken windows, suggestive graffiti with no front door. She slithered her arm away, yet making sure to take Ava’s hand. “I honestly don’t think anyone’s seen this place.” She brought Ava inside, passing through rooms with abandoned furniture covered with dust. She came to a door with a lock on it. “Graverobber installed this for me.” She knew she only said that for the Graverobber remark Ava made earlier. Jealousy wasn’t her color. Veda unlocked the door and guided Ava down the steep steps. She got a flashlight from her bag, shining it on her cozy corner. Her bed was a pile of pillows on the floor, covered with blankets of all different materials. She had a small television, sitting on a crate that was covered in splattered paint. In the corner, she had a table, covered with sketch books and empty liquor bottles. Next to the table was an open ladder, acting as a shelf with tchotchkes; all of which had meaning that she had no time to explain.

Veda placed the flashlight down the floor, illuminating the corner of the basement. “Take a seat.” She motioned to the pillow pile. She walked over to a chest, lifting it open, taking out a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie. “Here, get out of those clothes.” She walked over to Ava, putting the clothes next to her. “These will be warmer.” 

Step one, be a friend. Step two, figure out what the fuck happened..

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

This wasn’t the girl Veda had met two weeks ago. She took notice in every detail - from her scent to no violin. Ava was in bad shape. She couldn’t deny it. The coughs were deep and painful sounding. Her face was gaunt and there was no life in her eyes. Before, Veda could see stories throughout the green iris. Now she saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. She let her arms fall from her chest, her guard coming down with them. Her mind wandered to the first time she had seen Ava, comparing what she saw now. If there was an instinct to help then, there was one now. And she had to eat her petty spaghetti cold. As Ava stepped closer and brought up Graverobber, Veda stepped closer as well, meeting her half way. She let out a sigh, letting go of any anger or hurt, putting her focus onto the blonde. “That’s always an option. However...” she reached into her bag, taking out a vial. The last time she saw Ava’s face illuminated by glow her eyes twinkled. This time was nothing like that. She looked at Ava, clicking the vial into the gun.  “If I stick you with this -” Her tone completely changed. Her eyes softened. She tried to crack a smile. “Will you come with me?”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda’s brow raised as she watched the unknown person make their way to the front, like their needs were more important. Her face read ‘what the fuck’ as she looked at the others. This person had balls, Veda found it hilarious. As they unzipped their coat, a small laugh came from Veda’s mouth, more comedic material. She rarely took anything other than money as payment - and this time was no exception. Veda’s face fell from a smile when they lifted their hood. Oh, God, Ava...

She could see Ava’s eyes start to recognize her. “Just stick you with it, huh?” Veda responded her lower jaw locking to the side as a bitter rage pulsed through her veins. Her voice was cold. All that she could remember was inviting this stranger in to one of her deepest insecurities just to have no connection after. It made her nauseous, embarrassed. Someone knew something and she couldn’t control it.

But Veda could control this situation. A sense of power settled as she smirked, scanning the rest of the group. She took out her gun before her eyes fell back on to Ava. “I‘ll deal with you a second.” She smiled with the sound of loading the gun. “You can wait.”

Through the bitter taste in her mouth and the sick power trip, and deep down within the depths of her soul, Veda cared. She was worried. The last (and only) time she saw Ava, she wasn’t like this. It was a drastic turn from performing wonderfully and passionately on a stage and throwing it back later on in the night. But she had an image to uphold, so she wasn’t just about to up and help her. The grudge that unfolded in the last two weeks didn’t help either.

Veda went through the group, giving everyone of them their shot of glow and taking their hard earned cash. Though one eye was on Ava the entire time. Curiosity and concern danced with her petty anger. She got to the last of the group, tilting their head as hers turned to Ava. “If I were to, you know, just stick you with it, what would I get?” She asked as her gun took aim at fresh skin. She pulled the trigger, her final client falling to the floor in ecstasy. She turned her body and folded her arms across her chest. “Would I get a fucking apology? Or just some blood fuck? Because I don’t want either.”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Christ. Veda swallowed hard when Ava removed her bra. Her hunger intensified as she eyed her down, fresh skin exposed, more to taste. She couldn’t contain herself anymore. She crashed their mouths together, wrapping her arms around her, adjusting herself to straddle Ava. Putting all her weight forward, they fell onto the pallet, their bodies finally intertwining. Smiling, she broke the kiss to push her hair back and take one last coherent look at Ava. “Let’s do bad things together.”

The rest of the night was something out of a movie - a gory, filthy lesbian porn to be exact. Veda never met someone who undeniably matched her repressed erotic energy. Everyone was just a little too boring, never wanting to go outside of their comfort zone to explore pleasure that came with deviance - one reason why she strayed from having a consistent sex life. Nothing excited her, it wasn’t worth it. But getting a taste of Ava showed Veda what it felt like to give herself over to absolute pleasure; she swam the warm waters of sins of the flesh. She was hooked. Blood drunk. Can’t get addicted to glow, but you’ll get addicted to pussy.

Once it was all over and she was catching her breath, her body sticky with sweat and blood. “Can I see you Saturday night?” The desperation was loud and she didn’t seem to care. When Ava agreed, Veda was elated. After years of keeping her guard up, she felt like alien territory that was difficult to probe. She felt seen now. She knew she wasn’t broken. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After that night, Veda had hid out in her squatters paradise, keeping her to herself. With the GeneCops making an appearance a few nights before, she decided to count her blessings and keep a low profile. But when Saturday rolled around, she knew she had business to take care of. When the clock hit 8pm, Veda left and headed towards the club. Seeing Ava again was the only thing on her mind. She couldn’t contain her excitement, humming an eager tune as she walked down the streets. When she got to the club, she stayed outside, making sure she didn’t miss her walk in.

When time had passed, three cigarettes were smoked, and a few Z deals were made, Veda finally decided to check inside the club. No Ava. Anywhere. She stayed for a while, sitting at the bar. She kept one eye towards the stage and one towards the door, pathetically hoping she would show up. She wouldn’t do this, right? 

The night was getting older and the club was slowly emptying by the hour. One of the club promoters approached Veda about Ava. She asked about who she was, what she played, where she was from. And  Veda didn’t have an answer for any of it. Veda, concerned but also raging inside, could just shrug in response. She didn’t know virtually anything about Ava. She’s not coming, dude. Go home. Veda went outside, the smog hitting her right in the face. She lit a cigarette and looked around one more time, hoping that maybe Ava would make a liar out of her. “Give it up,” she whispered to herself, knowing that she was just wasting her damn time. She truly didn’t think Ava would’ve done something like this, but again, what did she know about her? Rage started to fill her lungs, her breath quickening. She headed down the street, towards her ‘home’, feeling fucking stupid.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Any feeling of stupidity melted away as the next two weeks had gone by. Veda, every day, with her line of work was reminded at how many people ‘need her’ - her confidence restored. Yeah, the wonder was still there of why didn’t Ava show. But there was nothing she could do. Ava owed her nothing, Veda made that very clear throughout the night. But se couldn’t think about it much, her life still had to move on. Bodies needed to be ravaged, addicts needed to be fed, and she needed to get paid.

Veda ventured out into the world, going to one of the nearby cemeteries. In line of sight was Graverobber. Two of the world’s best dealers in one place. She curled a smile and waved to him, receiving the same back. She never understood why he let her do her job as well as she could and did. He wasn’t about anyone taking his gig but he had a soft spot for Veda. He believed they were cut from the same cloth. One of the only people in the world that she considered a friend, maybe even family, from a distance. She worked in the opposite corner of him, taking what she could. As she worked, her mind would trail off to Ava. I wonder if she’s okay… No, stop. 

Collecting what she needed to, Veda filled her bag and headed on her way. There was this one alleyway that became almost like a tent city. The GeneCops would clear it every other day only for the herd to come back. She turned the corner and shoved her hands in her pocket, still filled with a black obsidian and a switchblade. She leaned against the brick, one foot on the wall. As she waited for people to make their way over to her, she scanned the area. She tried to calculate the money she would be making within the next half hour. A group of sickies started to walk towards her.

Veda crossed her arms, dominance pulsing through her veins. She was in the zone. “Hey, Charlie. No favors this time. No fucking gRoUp dEaLs, okay?” She raised a brow, pleased at the groups simultaneous nod. She noticed, however, someone didn’t nod - they didn’t even look alive. They stood there with their hood practically over their face, with questionable balance. Her eyes scanned the group again, her guard slightly raising. She couldn’t account that extra body. You never know who you could trust - with GeneCops and Repoman, anyone could be a snitch. She put faces to names, for her own security.

As she was going through her bag, Veda nodded her head towards the unknown subject. “Are they good? Who is that?” She pulled out two vials, looking at the drool forming on the corners of their mouths. In these moments, she felt like a god. She felt like she held the secret to life itself. But it was really just zydrate from dead bodies. And she was only just a fucking drug dealer. “Do they need some?” Concerned or not, she would love more clientele.

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda felt like she was on fire - so fucking hot and could possibly die. She closed her eyes, letting the unexpected blood lust take her. Ava knew what she was doing and Veda longed for it. She had yet to come across someone who shared the fetish, who wasn’t afraid of a little pain. She was feeling more alive the more Ava took from her. The attention Ava gave her wounded lip was almost too good to bare. Fuck is right. She kept her eyes shut, letting her body absolutely melt into the kiss. The taste, it was different from just ten minutes ago. Metal took the place of smoke and Ava’s mouth was tasted sweet, borderline ambrosial. It was like Veda’s entire perspective of Ava completely changed.

As Ava pulled away, Veda laughed softly at her narrative. “Yeah?” Her voice was quiet but playful, her eyes mimicking the tone. With a wicked smile, she gripped Ava’s chin, and with just the proper amount of force, she moved her head to the side. She immediately met her neck with a few slow, wet kisses. “Tell me what it tasted like.” she breathed, tilting her mouth up slightly to whisper in her ear. She wanted to hear her say it. She needed to hear her say it. Her mouth continued to dance around Ava’s neck, down to her clavicle, as her hand fell from her. Veda snaked her arm around her, pulling her in close, their skin finally touching.

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

The innocence in her question heated Veda down to her core. She loved a girl who was hot, consensual, and filthy and it seemed like Ava was all three of those things. The moment of her freaking out was now long gone, a distant memory. All she could think about was how sweet Ava’s skin tasted.

She grinned, giving her her hand back. She stared at Ava, her eyes dark and crazed with lust. Her fingers danced up her thighs, giving her leverage to lean in towards the blonde. Blood still slowly dropped from her lip as the wound began to heal itself. “Go ahead.” she whispered, their faces only centimeters apart. “Do whatever you want.”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda’s eyes stayed with Ava’s, as if she could see into into her. Listening to her offer, a sense of relief shifted Veda’s vibe. The anxiety was fading away. Feeling nothing but hatred towards her eight inch incision, she didn’t expect someone to be so gentle to it. It was new, different. She wanted to explore it.

Unsure of what came over her, Veda shifted her body, completely facing Ava, the shirt once covering her falling to the ground. She sucked in her bottom lip, as she reached for Ava’s hand, the taste of metal still strong. Guiding her to her torso, she held her breath. She was about to enter new territory.

She placed Ava’s hand on the tip of her scar, right between her cleavage. She looked down, watching herself guide the pretty strangers hand down the jagged incision. The feeling was electrifying. It felt like the first time - like her initial sexy move never happened.

She trailed their fingers back up her scar and lightly gripped Ava’s wrist. “Let’s try this again.” She put her hand to her mouth, giving it a gentle kiss before taking two fingers in her mouth, her eyes teasing Ava. She sucked softly, her tongue dancing around them. Sensually, she took them out of her mouth, only to graze them along her wet, blood lower lip. “You’re also very gorgeous, Ava,” she kissed her hand in between every word. Her groove was coming back. She felt better being in control, wanting to see Ava herself strike.

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

The softness in Ava’s voice eased Veda, it was almost like magic. But her words, they pained Veda with guilt. She gnawed at her lower lip, the conflict in feelings eating at her. Ava’s scars were originally Veda’s gain, they made her a target in the game she played. And here they were, shirtless strangers, having an intimate moment that Veda never wanted to have - and Ava was handling it well. Her empathy spoke volumes.

You look amazing, Veda. Alright. The way Ava’s tone carried those words, almost had Veda believing that what happened was okay, normal. Their eyes met and she knew she judged Ava wrong. She wasn’t her typical clientele. She finally let her lower lip free, a strong taste of copper followed. “That’s means a lot,” she started as she lifted her hand to her mouth. Broken skin. Blood flow. So numb. She started to laugh, trying to look at the gore on her fingers with the glow from the streets. “You’re catching me at all my finest moments, huh?” She joked, a softer side of Veda finding her way through.

She licked her lips, a quick clean up for the natural blood flow. “I hate that I liked it,” she admitted, her body loosening up, the shirt she was holding wasn’t covering up much anymore. “I loved it.”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda picked up her shirt and just held it in front of her, in disbelief. She didn’t want to come to the terms that she just ruined the moment. Inside her mind, she was screaming at herself, tag teaming her with her demons. She didn’t know! How could she have known? You fucked it up, piece of shit. What are you going to do now? Cry? You always keep your fucking shirt on, you freak.

Ava’s apology stopped every thought in her mind. Slowly, she turned to look at her, a brow raised. I’m sorry? Apologies were hard to come by, it was every man for themselves. You lived to survive and it didn’t matter what or who was in the way. As the guilt dripped off Ava’s tongue, Veda’s body loosened. Her shoulders relaxed, her head cocked to the side with sympathy and remorse. Her mouth opened yet no words came out. She was speechless.

Hesitantly, Veda sat back down on the pallets, her feet and head facing forward. She awkwardly adjusted the shirt in her hands, a deep sigh slipping from her lips. “I usually keep my shirt on.” Her first words were honest. She felt compelled to share, at least a little bit - it was only fair. “It’s just no one’s ever... I don’t let...” her words trailed off as her eyes darted around, hoping to stumble upon a distraction. The thought of finishing any of those sentences nauseated her. She didn’t know how to let someone in properly through emotions - nor did she really want to.

“I’m sorry.” She finally turned to look at Ava, her eyes dazed with Z and shame. “That was stupid.”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

Veda was mesmerized by the playful twinkle in Ava’s smile. Had she met her match? She wondered if Ava could match her own filthy, almost perverse passion that she bottled up. A low moan echoed from her throat the moment their lips met again. Her hands propped her up from behind, letting Ava fall into her just a little bit more. Her soft touch trailing down her neck, to her chest sent Veda’s head back once Ava pulled away from the kiss.

The soft touch turned warm and wet, a sharp inhale escaped Veda’s throat and a quiet moan followed. She lifted her head only to be slapped in the face with reality. The soft kiss felt like the dot of the exclamation point that is her scar. Her eyes gazed into Ava’s, only being able to replay her mouth on her surgical skin, her branding. Her brow furrowed as the disgust for moaning at her licking it settled in. Why was it hot? Why did it feel good? To her it was a constant reminder of bull shit that was slowly but surely sending her to the edge.

She took Ava by the shoulders and moved her out the way, gently but firmly. Standing up, her arms instinctively covered her torso. “No, no no,” she stammered, her head shaking and her walls breaking. She couldn’t even look at Ava because she knew it felt damn good. “Who THE FUCK just LICKS someone’s scars?!”

Part 1

The moon was out for once as Veda walked down 8th Street. She couldn’t help but look up as she walked. She felt alive at night, especially as the moon illuminated the city. Each hand was shoved into a coat pocket - she held a switch blade in the left and an obsidian stone in the other; double the protection. A smooth hum left her lips, her steps keeping to the beat. It was just the beginning of a good night. Her bag was rich with viles, each filled to the max. There was so many fresh bodies at her usual pick up spot. She was ready to make some money so she could pay her dues. As she rounded a corner, Veda found a group of sick scum, waiting for their next fix. And the night is just beginning, Veda thought, heading towards a nearby alleyway, giving the group a nod, letting them know to follow her.

Robbing graves and getting people high wasn’t always her plan, no. Veda had always had dreams of being an artist. She wanted to be able to put something on a canvas and have people observe it, see if they could understand it. She wanted to know if people could find their ways through the strokes of paint because no one ever could find their way through to her. It was a cliche metaphor that she wanted to live out. She wanted an original art piece to be hanging in the corridor at the Largo’s.

But here she is, collecting money from each zydrate hungry zombie in this alleyway, with a proud smirk on her face. It might have not been her plan, but she’s riding the wave and she’s riding it well. The thoughts of what could’ve been barely cross her mind. She knows her ‘place’ in this world. And it’s a black market slut, who feeds her needs off of other’s woes. She keeps a low profile but if you know her, you know what she’s about.

Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, Veda headed towards Club Calamity. There was an open-mic happening there that night, which usually brings in new customers - they got to shake their nerves somehow. The club was the stomping grounds for anyone with a more “alternative” lifestyle. It was one of the only places in town where you could shoot up, get a drink while getting spanked, all while listening to underground talent.

Veda propped herself up against the brick of the building, putting a cigarette in between her lips. The line to get in was beefy, she recognized a few faces amongst the crowd. She flicked a match and lit her cigarette, inhaling the taste of a successful night. Here she would wait. Her clients always come to her.  

[vedajane-rp]

"Winter lips"

Mixed media on cardboard (acrylic, collage, ecoline), 20 x 22 cm.

Giuseppe Velardo

MY SHOP https://www.etsy.com/it/shop/GiuseppeVelardoArt