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Post by The Emcee on Jan 29, 2009 14:14:24 GMT -5
He let go of her throat "I helped you, for me" he growled "I vanted you sober so I could go on vacations" he kneeled down in front of her and pinned her shoulders against the bed "so you vould stay here, so you vould feel obligated" he pushed harder "nofone leafs, not anymore."
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Post by Phoenix on Jan 29, 2009 22:08:04 GMT -5
She struggled again, but it was pointless, and she knew it.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, a note of fear in her hoarse voice. "What is wrong with you? Please... it doesn't have to be like this..."
How many times had he pushed her down on this bed, and how many times had she cried out in pleasure? It seemed like a distant memory, now.
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Post by The Emcee on Jan 30, 2009 1:11:23 GMT -5
"Maybe you should haf sought about sat before you vent off to play vis ses theatre people" he let go of her shoulders and pulled apart her top.
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 2, 2009 12:11:54 GMT -5
It was a nightmare. All the things she'd assumed about the Emcee--that his regard was true, at least, that underneath it all he was just like anyone else, only edgier, more exciting--evaporated in the face of his sudden rage. She didn't think she'd been in love, but she suspected she'd loved him--else how could this hurt so much?
Ben would never look at her again.
Her struggles were pointless. She was so small. She hadn't been prepared for this.
"I'll do anything," she pleaded. "Please, tell me what you want."
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Post by The Emcee on Feb 2, 2009 23:22:44 GMT -5
"It's too late now mein leibling" he grinned and ripped her bottoms off, pressing himself on to her "you fucked up, you should start learninks how to sink before you are goinks of and doing sese sinks" he pressed her face to the floor and pulled her legs up around him "I bet my broser vould loooove to see you like sis."
**FADE OUT**
((If you fade in, he'll have all ready left, so you'll have to fade in alone.))
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 3, 2009 12:08:25 GMT -5
**FADE IN**
She was alone, so no one could hear her cry, or see the makeup running down her face with her tears. Nor could they see the bruises that were blossoming on her pale skin. Her breath hitched, her lungs aching, as she finally stopped sobbing through sheer exhaustion.
She'd never thought him capable of this. And looking back, recalling all the rumors, Ben's words, she wondered how she'd missed it. How she'd ever thought she'd loved him.
She had to get home.
Drawing the tatters of her costume off, she found street clothes and tugged them on, unseeing. She felt numb on the inside, raw everywhere else. Phoenix peeked into the dim corridor like a rabbit from its warren, making sure the coast was clear before she darted down it.
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Post by Sally Bowles on Feb 23, 2009 12:17:46 GMT -5
As it turned out, though, the coast wasn't at all clear, Sally Bowles having been sewing sequins on a costume of hers for the past hour, such that her fingers were a bit cramped and pinched, so that as she went to leave her dressing room her little finger-wiggling, which was generally quite languid and regular a behavior for her, was a bit more enthusiastic than usual.
Humming a bit to herself, swaying to the bom-bom-badum of the song she had running through her head, she was completely oblivious to Phoenix's darting down the hallway just in time for Sally to open the door and dance right into her. Sally's having been moving more slowly by far, she found herself flat on the floor with the fellow performer in a perfectly unnatural position on top of her. Sally painfully propped herself on one elbow, all wide eyes and outstretched hand in alarm before her wide red mouth. The fact that this was overly-dramatic as it was did not make the distress at having caused such a problem any less.
"Oh, Phoenix, babe, are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Seeing the signs of distress on Phoenix's face had of course made her overestimate the impact of what she'd done. She thought the girl might've broken her knee or something, her eyes were so red!
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 23, 2009 12:31:08 GMT -5
Phoenix froze for a moment, laying splayed atop the other girl for a moment before darting back onto her heels. The position was too lately familiar to her, and she clutched her own arms in a defensive posture out of all keeping with the present incident. Her body was covered, the bruises on her neck hidden by a scarf, but her eyes and face were red and her general attitude was one of dishevelment and strained fear. Which was wholly unlike the confident girl she usually presented.
"Oh!" she gasped, trying to make her brain work in conjunction with her vocal cords. "No, Sally, no. I'm sorry." She blinked. "I was going rather too fast, wasn't I?" There was a quaver in her voice she damned herself for; nothing would be gained by breaking down in the hallway.
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Post by Sally Bowles on Feb 23, 2009 12:38:19 GMT -5
Sally attempted momentarily to push herself up, but until she made more than a dazed effort at doing it, her feet wouldn't quite cooperate in the typical 1930s platforms she was sporting. After a bit of kicking and sliding, she became still, watching Phoenix in what was still very much alarm. She couldn't comprehend what exactly was up; Sally was one of the more oblivious people on God's green earth. But she had enough emotional sense to tell when something was, and she scooted forward to her knees to take Phoenix's elbow, billing and cooing like a dove as she generally did when trying to persuade or to show some comfort.
"Nothing a bit of gin isn't going to wash away," she said, making a nice attempt to stand and managing after a tell-tale wobble, gently helping Phoenix up with her (which made it easier; the bulk of the other girl's body helped Sally from falling over herself). "Come on in and let's have a spot, hey?"
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 23, 2009 12:46:08 GMT -5
Phoenix blinked at her for a moment, looking uncomprehending but in actuality trying to figure out how to get out of it. And then wondering if she wanted to, as the word "gin" soaked into her consciousness and reminded her there wasn't any alcohol at the flat, and what was at the flat was Benno, whom she desperately wanted to see--but didn't want to explain this to.
Oh god, she thought, how was she going to do this? How could she even go home?
She let Sally help her to her feet and nodded.
"Okay," she said, and after a too-long pause, added, "Thanks."
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Post by Sally Bowles on Feb 23, 2009 14:48:06 GMT -5
Sally had a very theatrical way of walking that was all swoosh and hips-swaying, so that her hip frequently bumped against Phoenix's as she led her into the dressing room - which the Emcee had, as promised, made quite pleasant and fabulously hers, and she felt indeed very comfortable and familiar in it, as though her own failures of the previous year had not happened - but which was, at the same time, very natural and did not seem forced or suggestive.
There was a fabulously plush and cushioned chair in the room, where Sally often took naps, curled up and hidden, when she had stayed here too late to want to go back to her apartment immediately, and Sally, fingers gentle partly because she was Administering Comfort and partly because she had long fingernails, steered her into it with a light touch. It was covered with pillows, many of them sewed by Sally herself, which was generally something kind of embarrassing, so this chair was more often than not covered by a pile of glamorous costumes. However, since she'd thought she was all alone at the Klub that night, it was not now.
Sally bustled over to the spot where she kept the decanters, half-hidden behind some perfume bottles, so that it all blended in to the untrained eye. She could see Phoenix in the background. Girl looked as though she'd been assaulted or something, but as she'd been in the Klub, Sally couldn't wrap her head around why. Lord knows Sally'd had her purse stolen before and that sort of thing - there were some knaves in this world! - but in the cabaret itself, never!
Drawing out glasses and swishing back and forth a bit as she poured, a jaunty girl who was not used to being still, Sally said, raising her voice and making conversation - "You look as though you'd seen a ghost!"
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 23, 2009 15:03:14 GMT -5
Phoenix hardly knew this girl. She wondered, absently as if peering at her thoughts through a fog, why she was here. Why she'd consented to this. Sally Bowles was a creature from another time, a peacock of sorts but not in the same way Phoenix was and was used to. Still, the flash of he was distracting, and that was welcome.
She blinked at the sound of Sally's voice, and braved a smile. "Maybe I have," she said. "I hear most theaters are haunted." She thought the ghost might end up being herself. No, that was dramatic. Didn't this sort of thing happen all the time? Mother had warned her, in the period before Phoenix had flipped her off and cut off all subsequent warnings. And it wasn't as if she hadn't begged for him before...
No, this was different. She had to remember that. She hadn't asked for this.
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Post by Sally Bowles on Feb 23, 2009 15:07:48 GMT -5
Sally picked up the one glass, which was old-fashioned and ornate and in that sort of goofy, to her, and swanned over to Phoenix, eyebrows shooting up and waggling mischeviously.
"Oooh?" asked Sally, elegantly thrusting the glass at Phoenix. "Was he a terrible Victorian ghost, with a long mouth and very itchy fingers? I hear most Victorians are awfully grabby in shady places."
She had elongated the os in Victorian and long very comically in that first sentence.
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 23, 2009 15:13:11 GMT -5
Phoenix took the glass, with far less elegance than Sally offered it. She held it for a moment, as if she'd forgotten what to do with the thing. Sally's words had stopped her cold, and she wanted to shout at her to stop joking about things like that, despite the same sort of words which had so frequently fallen from her own lips.
"I wouldn't know," she said, taking a sip so she could cover up the fact she didn't know what else to say. She couldn't tell Sally the truth. She knew the Emcee, knew and presumably liked him as Phoenix had, and she knew she'd have discounted any word against him until proven to her. The liquid burned a bit, but it was welcome; it woke her up a little. "I didn't see him."
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Post by Sally Bowles on Feb 23, 2009 17:25:53 GMT -5
Sally - who, in her years on the street, in nightclubs, in bars, and cabarets, scraping by, had certainly been through a number of very bad things - would probably have not discounted any story about him, whether she knew him or not, which was, ultimately, rather unfortunate and tragic, for she did absolutely adore the man down to the bones of him and had been beyond relief to be welcomed back by him into the cabaret.
"Ah, well, you call for Sally if you do and she'll give him a good kick," said Sally as she sat leisurely down on one end of a sofa that was almost entirely covered with costumes and odds-and-ends and some props that had somehow for some reason been tossed there, synchronizing the word with the swing of her leg as she crossed it over the other, cupping her glass in her hand. "That's what these shoes are for. Girls too. Stick together." These last syllables were almost drowned by her taking a glass, quite like a child.
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