Re: The Wretched Rite - Sign up today!
07-18-2011, 04:02 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by engineclock.
"'Allo! Can you 'ere me? Yoo hoo, are you deaf?”
The skin on Adelaide’s back twitched at the sound of Fiorella’s painfully fake accent and the rusalka barely restrained herself from sinking back into the water. She dragged her nails across the concrete and felt the side of her mouth twist into a snarl, blocked from view by a curtain of hair. Of all the folk to be scrounging in this particular alley, it had to be her. It had to be. Christ. Surely someone was having a laugh at her expense, she thought as she stole a glace back at the cheerfully waving woman. Let them laugh, then. What did it matter? She was hungry anyway.
Her eyes widened into a mockery of fear, her fair face smoothed out and she clasped her hands to her chest as she turned around slowly, gazing up at the nightmare that was Fiorella. “O-oh! I’m so sorry, miss, I didn’t see you there at first.” She lowered her head and tried to blush, but it was difficult when you didn’t have blood. She settled for biting her lip demurely and hating herself.
Fiorella hadn’t immediately noticed that Adelaide wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothes and she had to stop herself before she deviated from her highly fashionable expression of insulted aloofness. The nerve of this poor girl! Didn’t she have any regard at all for decency? Judging from the clueless expression on her face, probably not. Still, Fiorella had to admit that she’d done an admirable job at achieving the “natural” look with that curious hair of hers, and the cluster of mismatched chains around her neck was actually somewhat flattering. Clearly she was one of those hippie types who could get away with looking like they hadn’t bathed in years. It was the only possible excuse.
But she had to know… “Mon dieu! What ever ’appened to your clothes?”
The rusalka brought her hands up to her face, keeping her chest tactfully blocked with her elbows. The bitch didn’t look like she’d be the sort to fall for that sort of thing. “I- I was bathing in the river when I was called ’way. I hope no one took them, that would be awful!” She peered up with what she knew was a particularly pitiful expression and tried to hide her disgust.
“Such a shame,” Fiorella cooed. “You poor thing. Darling, I would love to give you some of mine to wear, but, ah- you’re just a tad bit messy, you zee. All zat filthy water.” She gestured at the water in a way that suggested it might be better put under a tarp somewhere and forgotten about. “I’m sure we can find you some’zing a leetle more bourgeoisie for you zomewhere. Wouldn’t that be nice, dear?”
She was prepared to face a little more shyness from the girl in the water, and certainly some gratitude wouldn’t have been out of place. The poor thing probably didn’t know pantyhose from garter belts, let alone how to pick out an outfit worth being seen in public. She should have jumped at the chance to have someone as impossibly haute couture as Fiorella even give the slightest thought as to assisting her in choosing new clothing.
Fiorella was not, however, prepared for Adelaide to rear back and scream at her with the voice of a banshee soprano.
“You fucking bloody bitch,” the rusalka screeched as she slashed her arm across the top of her puddle, instantly drenching Fiorella’s pant legs. “Who gave you the fuckin’ right ta’ talk about my water, huh? Who in fuck’s name are you, ye sorry excuse for a half-price whore?!”
The ever-fashionable Fiorella was too shocked to respond before her leg suddenly sunk knee-deep into what should have been a half-inch of water; she screamed in horror as the horrible stuff splashed up and soaked even more of her clothes. The filth! The germs! She was never going to get these stains out without bleach! Hyperventilating, she tried to pull away before a hand grasped her ankle under the water with a grip that was far too powerful to belong to a mere human.
Adelaide’s pretty face was twisted into a snarl of hatred, her fish’s teeth bared and her dark eyes wide with fury. She rose up out of the water, exposing more of her too-pale skin and the dark freckle-like spots that covered her sides. “How’s the water now, bint,” she seethed, letting her nails dig into the woman’s ankle and prompting a yelp of startled pain. “Y’should be honored I’d even let a rat like you far ‘nough into it to dr-augh, FUCKER!”
Almost without thinking, an abhorrently expensive-looking flat had lashed out and kicked the rusalka straight in the face, missing her nose by a precious inch. Fiorella didn’t even notice Adelaide had let go before she was suddenly free of the horrible pool and limping away backwards, the seething fish-girl in the pool curled up defensively on the far edge of the water and holding both hands to one side of her face. The look in her eyes was enough to make sure that the personification of fashion didn’t bother to turn around more than once as she fled.
“You nasty little slut!” Adelaide’s shrieks followed Fiorella as she ran as quickly as was fashionably allowed out of the grimy alley, back towards anything that wasn’t a horrible fish-girl with terrible hair and a desire to kill her. “I’ll find you again, bitch, I’ll eat y’alive! You can’t run from me! I’LL PULL YOU UNDER AND EAT YOU ALIVE, Y’HEAR ME! I’LL FIND YOU!”
A door loomed suddenly out of the shadow of a building; Fiorella dove for it, her clawed ankle twinging in pain as she scrambled on the rough asphalt. She yanked the handle open and sank down inside the instant she was sure there was no water anywhere on the floor. She had no idea what had set that stupid girl off; probably she was just insane and, of course, incredibly jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone like her, Fiorella thought and tried to pretend she wasn’t shaking as she fixed her hair with trembling hands.
"'Allo! Can you 'ere me? Yoo hoo, are you deaf?”
The skin on Adelaide’s back twitched at the sound of Fiorella’s painfully fake accent and the rusalka barely restrained herself from sinking back into the water. She dragged her nails across the concrete and felt the side of her mouth twist into a snarl, blocked from view by a curtain of hair. Of all the folk to be scrounging in this particular alley, it had to be her. It had to be. Christ. Surely someone was having a laugh at her expense, she thought as she stole a glace back at the cheerfully waving woman. Let them laugh, then. What did it matter? She was hungry anyway.
Her eyes widened into a mockery of fear, her fair face smoothed out and she clasped her hands to her chest as she turned around slowly, gazing up at the nightmare that was Fiorella. “O-oh! I’m so sorry, miss, I didn’t see you there at first.” She lowered her head and tried to blush, but it was difficult when you didn’t have blood. She settled for biting her lip demurely and hating herself.
Fiorella hadn’t immediately noticed that Adelaide wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothes and she had to stop herself before she deviated from her highly fashionable expression of insulted aloofness. The nerve of this poor girl! Didn’t she have any regard at all for decency? Judging from the clueless expression on her face, probably not. Still, Fiorella had to admit that she’d done an admirable job at achieving the “natural” look with that curious hair of hers, and the cluster of mismatched chains around her neck was actually somewhat flattering. Clearly she was one of those hippie types who could get away with looking like they hadn’t bathed in years. It was the only possible excuse.
But she had to know… “Mon dieu! What ever ’appened to your clothes?”
The rusalka brought her hands up to her face, keeping her chest tactfully blocked with her elbows. The bitch didn’t look like she’d be the sort to fall for that sort of thing. “I- I was bathing in the river when I was called ’way. I hope no one took them, that would be awful!” She peered up with what she knew was a particularly pitiful expression and tried to hide her disgust.
“Such a shame,” Fiorella cooed. “You poor thing. Darling, I would love to give you some of mine to wear, but, ah- you’re just a tad bit messy, you zee. All zat filthy water.” She gestured at the water in a way that suggested it might be better put under a tarp somewhere and forgotten about. “I’m sure we can find you some’zing a leetle more bourgeoisie for you zomewhere. Wouldn’t that be nice, dear?”
She was prepared to face a little more shyness from the girl in the water, and certainly some gratitude wouldn’t have been out of place. The poor thing probably didn’t know pantyhose from garter belts, let alone how to pick out an outfit worth being seen in public. She should have jumped at the chance to have someone as impossibly haute couture as Fiorella even give the slightest thought as to assisting her in choosing new clothing.
Fiorella was not, however, prepared for Adelaide to rear back and scream at her with the voice of a banshee soprano.
“You fucking bloody bitch,” the rusalka screeched as she slashed her arm across the top of her puddle, instantly drenching Fiorella’s pant legs. “Who gave you the fuckin’ right ta’ talk about my water, huh? Who in fuck’s name are you, ye sorry excuse for a half-price whore?!”
The ever-fashionable Fiorella was too shocked to respond before her leg suddenly sunk knee-deep into what should have been a half-inch of water; she screamed in horror as the horrible stuff splashed up and soaked even more of her clothes. The filth! The germs! She was never going to get these stains out without bleach! Hyperventilating, she tried to pull away before a hand grasped her ankle under the water with a grip that was far too powerful to belong to a mere human.
Adelaide’s pretty face was twisted into a snarl of hatred, her fish’s teeth bared and her dark eyes wide with fury. She rose up out of the water, exposing more of her too-pale skin and the dark freckle-like spots that covered her sides. “How’s the water now, bint,” she seethed, letting her nails dig into the woman’s ankle and prompting a yelp of startled pain. “Y’should be honored I’d even let a rat like you far ‘nough into it to dr-augh, FUCKER!”
Almost without thinking, an abhorrently expensive-looking flat had lashed out and kicked the rusalka straight in the face, missing her nose by a precious inch. Fiorella didn’t even notice Adelaide had let go before she was suddenly free of the horrible pool and limping away backwards, the seething fish-girl in the pool curled up defensively on the far edge of the water and holding both hands to one side of her face. The look in her eyes was enough to make sure that the personification of fashion didn’t bother to turn around more than once as she fled.
“You nasty little slut!” Adelaide’s shrieks followed Fiorella as she ran as quickly as was fashionably allowed out of the grimy alley, back towards anything that wasn’t a horrible fish-girl with terrible hair and a desire to kill her. “I’ll find you again, bitch, I’ll eat y’alive! You can’t run from me! I’LL PULL YOU UNDER AND EAT YOU ALIVE, Y’HEAR ME! I’LL FIND YOU!”
A door loomed suddenly out of the shadow of a building; Fiorella dove for it, her clawed ankle twinging in pain as she scrambled on the rough asphalt. She yanked the handle open and sank down inside the instant she was sure there was no water anywhere on the floor. She had no idea what had set that stupid girl off; probably she was just insane and, of course, incredibly jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone like her, Fiorella thought and tried to pretend she wasn’t shaking as she fixed her hair with trembling hands.