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♠ SECOND || ➥ VIDEO
Jan. 21st, 2015 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nestingdevil[The feed begins with a catch of a door handle. A broken chain hangs haphazardly to the side, its links pried apart with some force. A few pieces still litter the floor, the metal holding them together looking as if they've been sliced right through. On the recording, there's a flash of a wood floor as the angle sways. This way, that way. Leaving blurry images to shift across the screen.]
[But for anyone who's ever been to the 'Falls, the click-clack of clipped heels and the heavy walk should be obvious. Almost as much as the audible grin that follows. A voice sounds outside of the recording - sultry, a-purr:]
Now that's surprising.
[The phone hits the surface of the bar with a plastic-thud. Spinning 'round once in a slow, drawling motion. And as if on cue, the lights go on - the eerie stillness breaks. As red pulses and toxic-neon bulbs struggle to find themselves again. A bottle springs into view; knocked beside the recording as it continues its steady stream of the ceiling above. A thumb chases the cap at the top, forcing it to spin through the notches.] It's been a while.
[Finally, the owner comes into view. Greed splays his arms across the surface of the bar, one hand propped up by the crook of his elbow. He presses his index into the spinning bottle cap, stopping it just before gravity takes it for a plunge.] Missed a few things since last time, but it doesn't look like this place changes very much. [His smile widens - grinding up one side of his jaw and it's just teeth. A deadly set of daggers that slice into a tightly-knit row. The Sin's shoulders rise and the fur at his neck follows. Fanning out in a wild display as it finds the thick of his throat.] The Devil's Nest is open for business. 10% off for tonight - call it a one-time deal.
[A pause. Greed's eyebrows dip together and his thumb snaps. Releasing the choke-hold on the cap to finally let it fall flat-first onto the top of the bar.] Ah, right. That's a little rude, isn't it?
[Colors spin in his sunglasses; from the muted notes of the bar lights above as they crackle and blink. From the looks of it, it's been a while since they've been on. A month, longer. He isn't even sure.]
[Not that it really matters.]
[Instead, he swipes his fingers forward. Scissoring his index and middle to skirt across his collarbone. The bow he gives is a mockery; a lazy dip as his back slumps.] The name's Greed - it's a pleasure.
[But for anyone who's ever been to the 'Falls, the click-clack of clipped heels and the heavy walk should be obvious. Almost as much as the audible grin that follows. A voice sounds outside of the recording - sultry, a-purr:]
Now that's surprising.
[The phone hits the surface of the bar with a plastic-thud. Spinning 'round once in a slow, drawling motion. And as if on cue, the lights go on - the eerie stillness breaks. As red pulses and toxic-neon bulbs struggle to find themselves again. A bottle springs into view; knocked beside the recording as it continues its steady stream of the ceiling above. A thumb chases the cap at the top, forcing it to spin through the notches.] It's been a while.
[Finally, the owner comes into view. Greed splays his arms across the surface of the bar, one hand propped up by the crook of his elbow. He presses his index into the spinning bottle cap, stopping it just before gravity takes it for a plunge.] Missed a few things since last time, but it doesn't look like this place changes very much. [His smile widens - grinding up one side of his jaw and it's just teeth. A deadly set of daggers that slice into a tightly-knit row. The Sin's shoulders rise and the fur at his neck follows. Fanning out in a wild display as it finds the thick of his throat.] The Devil's Nest is open for business. 10% off for tonight - call it a one-time deal.
[A pause. Greed's eyebrows dip together and his thumb snaps. Releasing the choke-hold on the cap to finally let it fall flat-first onto the top of the bar.] Ah, right. That's a little rude, isn't it?
[Colors spin in his sunglasses; from the muted notes of the bar lights above as they crackle and blink. From the looks of it, it's been a while since they've been on. A month, longer. He isn't even sure.]
[Not that it really matters.]
[Instead, he swipes his fingers forward. Scissoring his index and middle to skirt across his collarbone. The bow he gives is a mockery; a lazy dip as his back slumps.] The name's Greed - it's a pleasure.