you think you've got it [ trixx ]

[Nessarose Allens]

Go on; jump. I dare you.

Don't be an idiot.

The voice tells her to jump from the bridge as she stares down into the murky water. It would be easy: a little climb; a deep breath; an outward jump and then a freefall. Yes, so simple. Nessa shook her head to herself yet did not step back from leaning over the handrail of the bridge. Depression was something she lived with, something she harnessed to try and use to her advantage and while sometimes it got the better of her; most of the time she won. Suicide was not on her agenda and it would never be, at least, not while the desire for revenge and vengence still burned so strongly within her. She would live, if only to see others die. It was a small ambition, but it was enough.

Darkness, like a disease, had crept over the land and brought with it the cold and the wind that usually accompanied a London night. Although the wind whipped her body, she did not draw her jacket around herself, she was cold but it was the kind of cold that kept her mind sharp and her senses alert, she could not falter at this time. Midnight. In London this was most definately: The Witching Hour. The hour when the monsters liked to roam the most, both human criminals and supernatural predators alike roamed the streets at this time although she knew which one she would rather face.

You're a coward Nessarose, you'll run screaming at the sign of trouble. Just like your brother was a cowa-

Shut up.

I'm always right.

Her eyes closed as she mentally snarled at herself, her hands clenching tight around the handrail as she fought with the voice in her head. Jason. He had not been a coward, in fact he had been the strongest person she knew, he'd never been afraid to stick up for her and in the end that was what killed him. It was a night she was both terrified to forget and remember, a difficult burden yet one she coped with nevertheless. It was clear as crystal, that night, and it was burned into her nightmares forever. Even now she woke up screaming and sweating, the loss re-opening and renewing as she relived the experience. This was a grief that could not be spoken, and a grief that went on and on.

With a sigh her eyes opened and she glanced down at her hands; they were shaking. She needed a hit and she needed one quickly, if there was one thing she never wanted to experience and was afraid of more than anything it was withdrawal, it was a pain akin to something she had experienced only once before and never again. She looked around, black hair shifting in the wind and getting in her face. Her hand automatically went to her pockets. Empty. She made a quiet noise of distaste and looked around with a more frantic movement. It was midnight for fucks sake, this place was a dealers paradise. So where were all the fucking dealers?

Scared of a little withdrawal?

Fuck off.

It was not dignified to argue with a voice in her head, but as nobody else could hear it and as it was being an unusually potent prick today, she felt that the argument was necessary.

A woman was walking slowly toward her, Nessa immediately recognised the look about her. Dealer. Her body position tensed as she turned to face the woman, she raised her head slightly and narrowed her eyes as she watched the woman approach slowly. "You selling?" If she was not selling, then she'd have no idea what Nessa was talking about. Both of them knew that she had to make a buck, and Nessa was here to get the drugs she needed. Although, she rarely ever paid full price and, if she did, she usually got the dealers name so that she could shift the money back into her account afterwards.

[lily]

The night was delicious. Trixx loved it more than the daytime, for obvious reasons. The cool breeze lifted her brown hair, whipping it around her shoulders. Occasionally it would sneak across her line of vision, obscuring it for just a moment, before a light shake of her head was given and the offending tresses were returned to where they should be – hanging down her chest limply. It had been a quiet night for the most part. It seemed most of her regular clientele had stocked up the nights previous, though for what reason, she did not know. It had left her stock virtually deficient of heroin, and she had bought the last bit herself. It was stored safely by her bed, waiting for her when she returned home. She was not concerned, however, as it was only her ‘hardcore druggies’, as she referred to them, who were interested in shooting up and chasing the dragon, and all of her regulars had gotten theirs. If any new, pathetic human wanted some, they would have to do without.

A smile crossed her lips. Cold turkey was such a bitch, especially for weak-minded little humans. It was also a term Trixx was no longer acquainted with. For the better part of a century, she had been a dealer for the Izan, and it meant whatever passed through her to the waiting public, she could buy her own stock from. For personal use of course. Admittedly, she perhaps took more than most from her allocated drugs, but she paid for them all fair and square, and so the Izan had nothing to moan about. It lined their pockets, and sold their drugs for them. Speaking of the Izan, she would have to contact them since she needed more smack. It would only be a day or two before they started filtering towards her again for their next hits, and it upset her greatly to have to say no to humans regarding drugs. Not because she felt bad that they were going to have to go without, but because she enjoyed imagining the damage it was doing to their weak mortal bodies. Yes, she was technically dead for all intents and purposes being a vampire and all, but they were dead on the inside, and she knew that pain all too well. Still, she was better off now, so she was entitled to laugh at their pain. After all – she was Trixx.

“You selling?” came a voice. Female, needy. The corners of Trixx’s lips turned upward into a cold smirk as she turned to survey the woman. Such a shame really. She was perhaps no older than Trixx had been before she became a vampire, and most definitely a human. Dark brown eyes locked onto the woman’s for a minute and she saw within them the need for drugs. The desperation for her next fix.

“Depends what you want, sugar,” she replied coolly, looking half disinterested. Of course, making money from selling drugs was the name of the game, and she needed this sale as much as any other, but she never let it show. Acting like she didn’t really want to let go of the drugs seemed to work for her and she got, and kept, more customers, and occasionally it even managed to push the price up. Price.. She was a stickler for it. Selling drugs was her living – she couldn’t exactly go around handing them out to just anyone for free, could she?

{ * words: 581.
{ * tag: nessarose allens.
{ * notes: hope it’s ok (:

[/size]

[Nessarose Allens]

The woman seemed to sneer at Nessa with her eyes and this gesture was returned sevenfold. A smirk danced upon her lips as she turned to fully face the girl, one hand still rested upon the handrail to the bridge and the other lingered by her side, she would have crossed it around her chest to try and save herself from some of the cold. It was a tedious motion and never worked, besides, she was not one to simply show the weakness, whatever it happened to be. Cold, pain, grief ... she would wrap it up and place it behind the mask that she wore, easily dismissed and yet it was never truely gone. Not that it mattered, this woman was here to sell her drugs; not to give a shit about the emotions that she did or did not show.

It was all she could do to prevent her hands from quivering, the way they did when she was craving a hit. At this stage of her addiction it was a constant need, both remedy and cause of her troubles and yet it was something that she would not give up for the world. They were her vice, they made her job worth doing and they made it easier to do, oddly enough they also soothed the voice in her head, making it easier to tame, easier to handle. Despite the fact that the voice denied this with every fibre. Drugs made her stronger. Far stronger mentally than she was normally.

Depends what you want sugar.

Sugar?

Fucking sugar?

It was a rare occurance to find Nessa and the voice in agreeance with one another, however this woman had managed to make it happen with a single word. Why did strangers always insist on using patronizing endearments when they spoke to her? It was not as if she looked childish or cute enough to use 'sugar' on. In fact, at the moment she looked pissed off, crazy and there was a desperate flickering to her eyes that reminded one of insanity. Maybe she was insane, but regardless, it really shouldn't mean she should be patronizing. Nessa frowned momentarily, she needed the drugs first, then she would put this woman in the place that she so clearly deserved.

"What've you got?" Her voice was disinterested, contrasting with the sheer desperation in her eyes. She would take anything, it never mattered to her what it was she got for the fact was that her addiction was to the drug itself. Ice, ecstasy, speed, cocaine and anything else that she couldl get her hands on was what she needed. It was conveiniant really, that she wasn't addicted to any one substance, it made purchases so much simpler. Her eyes levelled against the girls, she was not afraid of dealers, not fooled by their facades. They needed to make money as much as the druggie needed the drugs. It was a double edged sword, and Nessa could play this game very, very well. "Cocaine?"