broke off the chains [open]

[ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: transparent, width: 400px; height: 300px;] hundred black coffins i need a hundred black coffins for a hundred bad men. a hundred black graves so i can lay they ass in. i need a hundred black preachers with a black sermon to tell from a hundred black bibles while we send them all to hell. Altair woke up sore all over in the middle of the park. She shifted when she first opened her eyes, wincing as she moved her neck and tried to get rid of the kinks. A bench, classy. At least it wasn't a gutter, that would have been a terrible cliche to find herself in. Apparently she hadn't even slept on the bench, instead leaned against it to sleep, but soon that became the least of her worries. "What the fuck," she said as she yanked her arm down, stopped short by the handcuffs that had her bound to the arm of the park bench. She attempted several more yanks before deciding that the cuffs wouldn't open by pure force of will. What if I burn them off? As soon as the thought came to her, she knew it wouldn't work out for her. Sighing, she tried to find a more comfortable position to sit in, before looking around at her surroundings. It was midday, but she couldn't see many people around, jogging along the cement path in front of her. "Of fucking course," she said, with a light and bitter laugh. Though filled to the brim with anger, she tried to recall what had even happened the night before to land her there. She'd gone out to a party, and remembered taking quite a few Jell-O shots. Which shouldn't have been enough to down her, but she remembered holding a bottle at some points in the night. Unfortunately, that was about all she could remember, meaning she'd blacked out some point in the night. At least I've got my clothes on, she thought grimly as she looked at her jeans and blouse, though that didn't make too much of a difference in saving her dignity. Hell, she didn't even know if she banged anyone the night before, not that it would even matter. Whoever she had been with last night had fucked with her, and she would find out who it was and kill them. But first she had to figure out what to do about the goddamn handcuffs. She shook her arm again, the restraints rattling in reply. Obviously, someone would need to help her, which meant waiting for someone to come around and then debasing herself in asking for aid. Altair scowled. She hadn't been this hungover and pissed off in a long while. A dangerous combination, as a matter of fact, as if her normal personality wasn't already enough of a handful. The bright sun and heat just made it worse. All she wanted was to go home and curl up on her bed. She wondered if Ro was home-- Wait. Her phone. She hurriedly looked around her in the grass, only to find that she didn't have her purse on her, which meant she didn't have phone either. "Fuck!" she yelled as loud as she could, disturbing a few pigeons that had settled around a nearby lamppost. The next words she muttered. "This isn't even funny." tag: open! | notes: yep. | music: 100 black coffins by rick ross

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[camille]

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tag: Altair! | outfit: here! | words: 543 | notes: had to

There wasn’t really anything to do. Cammie stared out of the window of her room and sighed when she saw her father washing his car. It brought back memories from when she used to help him. Back when everything was great and the sun shined on them. It was then when she was happy because she felt whole. Her parents loved one another and they loved her; it made her wonder what had gone wrong in the marriage. Was it her fault? She asked her mother that and she received a shocked look and a flat not. Of course it wasn’t her fault she said. That’s what parents are supposed to say.

Cammie really didn’t really think it was her fault that they broke up, but maybe she could have tried harder to bring them closer. Her violin lessons and recitals brought them together…in the same building because they didn’t sit next to each other, but maybe she should have taken up ballet or some self-defense class. Anything to bring them together, but she hadn’t. Instead she spent the majority of her childhood wondering what went wrong and wondering why her father never came around her or went to visit with her.

She was tempted to go out there now and help him with his car just like the old days. She picked at her fingers as her nervousness kicked in and thought against it. Of course he wanted her around and would accept her help, but she couldn’t bring herself to be around him. He’d hurt her too much and it hurt being with him. Every time she looked at him she thought of the irony of how her mother’s death was the only way to bring them together. She shook her head and hopped out of the bed. She threw some shoes on, grabbed her backpack and violin, and headed out of the door. She did not make eye contact with him, but was forced to when he shouted a hello with a grin. Cammie got out her bike and forced a smile and said a hello back, but it was fake. All fake. She hopped on her bike and pedaled towards the place where she thought she would get a clear head: the park.

When she arrived there, she wandered around the unfamiliar place to try to get a feel. There weren’t too many people around which was perfect for her to play her violin. When practicing, she did not like too many people around. She didn’t know why it was just her. She took it out of its case from her backpack and took out the bow. She rested her chin on the chin rest and was about to play when she heard a shout that made her jump. The sound made her lower her violin and look around. Did someone need help? She walked towards the sound and saw a girl on a bench. She looked pretty frustrated and concern grew inside of her. She didn’t see the handcuffs so didn’t quite yet understand why she was upset. “Hi…” she said hesitantly. She wasn’t shy but she didn’t want to annoy the girl anymore. “Are you okay?”

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[ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: transparent, width: 400px; height: 300px;] hundred black coffins i need a hundred black coffins for a hundred bad men. a hundred black graves so i can lay they ass in. i need a hundred black preachers with a black sermon to tell from a hundred black bibles while we send them all to hell. When Altair first spied the brunnette, her thought was, Who the fuck plays violin in the park? No one, that's who. She may not have known a lot about music, certainly did not hold an interest in it, but in her twenty years of life she had never seen someone take out such an instrument in a public place and start playing it. All she saw were those douchebags playing guitar. People did that sort of thing for attention, and it exasperated her to watch. Momentarily, it distracted her from the real issue at hand. Hand. Ha. It didn't feel funny, didn't feel like a joke, but she supposed she needed something to distract her from the fact that her hand was currently attached to the railing of a park bench. A mystery that still needed solving, she knew, and her mind returned to this fact when the girl noticed her. From the fit, Altair knew this much. Not that she would be censoring herself in front of anyone. Especially not someone who brought their instrument to a fucking park. "Oh yes, better than okay, so okay I thought I might handcuff my wrist to a fucking bench today." What the fuck sort of the question was that? Like bleeding from the forehead and having someone ask if you were going to be all right. Altair didn't try to convince herself to calm down, didn't take steps to control her breathing or anger. She didn't want to be calm, that wasn't on her mind when she was pissed off to high hell. Reason couldn't even battle with her in this scenario and convince her that this stranger probably didn't even see the handcuff. Only heard her cursing. But that didn't help. Of course it didn't, because Altair knew what was going on and that incensed her. Her chest rose, her eyes going back to her wrist. Once again, the girl tried to shift herself into a more comfortable position and only ended up pressing her shoulder against the arm rest. "Do you have a phone or something?" she asked, her voice tight. Would the police help? Her throat constricted with the thought. This was embarrassing, she didn't even want Little Miss Violin looking at her right now, let alone the boys in blue. "You know what," she said quickly after, "Fuck that,you have a bobby pin?" Altair had only picked two locks in her life, one to her sister's room and the other to try and sneak into a classroom. The first turned out to be a strange success, but the second not so much. She wondered how cheap these handcuffs were, how easily she could break them. Element? She wondered what element the girl was, but then again how would any of them aid her in this situation? tag: open! | notes: hi bb. | music: 100 black coffins by rick ross

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