Solitude had a way with people. It made them crave anything but and Sena couldn’t think of a better way to settle her sudden craving for attention other than to seek out the most populated club she could find in her area and start from there. All that remained to be seen was what kind of attention it was. After all, the toughest decision was what to wear, wasn’t it? Provocative or just slightly-more-conservative. Skirts and dresses versus pants and shirts.
Shirt and pants was considerably more comfortable though. The choice made itself and the girl went with the style that simply wouldn’t remind her as much about last week. Going a whole weekend without being dragged off to Csilla was a good weekend. A whole weekend without a random act of murder was a miracle. The urge was practically bursting but Sena kept it in for her master’s sake. Apparently it wasn’t the best of practice to sacrifice just about everyone you came across in dark alleys to the goddess. A lesson that had left its marks on Sena’s lower back.
Perhaps just the scars themselves were proof enough of the amount of punishment the acolyte had to endure. It wasn’t just the one time that she had to endure elecricity running rampant through her entire body.
At least she didn’t lose her conscience anymore.
The scene today was the ‘X-25’ club. The dark beats and synths could be heard all the way from the outside as Sena approached the bouncer who gave her an up and down look before trying to turn her away, but denial was not on the table. She didn’t utter a word but the man still crumbled down in pain and she walked on through.
It would seem he couldn’t handle an excess of bloody crime scene imagery all that well. Oh well.
Shrugging she stepped over the cowering man’s form. The fear would subside in a few minutes, but until then the club would have to send in the replacement. Not that it was her problem, for all she cared the man could have died. It only would have added to the lesson that one does not deny Sena entry. She looked good, damn good, and there would never be anyone alive who could object to that.
The fun part about clubs was that even when you looked your worst the others still looked just like you. The blondes at the bar was just about as good-looking as Sena, the redhead by the booths was only ever so close to being added to the ‘bucket list’ and the brunettes in the corner served as confidence boosters.
No matter how you spinned the story Sena would find a way to be number one, and if she didn’t? Well, we all have our delusions.
[member="Ameli Trahir"]
Shirt and pants was considerably more comfortable though. The choice made itself and the girl went with the style that simply wouldn’t remind her as much about last week. Going a whole weekend without being dragged off to Csilla was a good weekend. A whole weekend without a random act of murder was a miracle. The urge was practically bursting but Sena kept it in for her master’s sake. Apparently it wasn’t the best of practice to sacrifice just about everyone you came across in dark alleys to the goddess. A lesson that had left its marks on Sena’s lower back.
Perhaps just the scars themselves were proof enough of the amount of punishment the acolyte had to endure. It wasn’t just the one time that she had to endure elecricity running rampant through her entire body.
At least she didn’t lose her conscience anymore.
The scene today was the ‘X-25’ club. The dark beats and synths could be heard all the way from the outside as Sena approached the bouncer who gave her an up and down look before trying to turn her away, but denial was not on the table. She didn’t utter a word but the man still crumbled down in pain and she walked on through.
It would seem he couldn’t handle an excess of bloody crime scene imagery all that well. Oh well.
Shrugging she stepped over the cowering man’s form. The fear would subside in a few minutes, but until then the club would have to send in the replacement. Not that it was her problem, for all she cared the man could have died. It only would have added to the lesson that one does not deny Sena entry. She looked good, damn good, and there would never be anyone alive who could object to that.
The fun part about clubs was that even when you looked your worst the others still looked just like you. The blondes at the bar was just about as good-looking as Sena, the redhead by the booths was only ever so close to being added to the ‘bucket list’ and the brunettes in the corner served as confidence boosters.
No matter how you spinned the story Sena would find a way to be number one, and if she didn’t? Well, we all have our delusions.
[member="Ameli Trahir"]