1(800) DEMON // [Haze+Pierce]

[admin kay]

〖    p i e r c e    l i t t l e t o n    〗

He hasn't been watching Brennan Fitzgerald's every move. Nope. Not him. Pierce Littleton has no idea that Brennan loves to drop the F-bomb during pageants such as the Reaping. He has simply no idea that Brennan was quelled by Peacekeepers and dragged onto the train. He doesn't know, because to know would be to admire and he doesn't have time for that in his busy schedule --

Instead, he stalks the girl from Eleven. There's a pen tucked over his ear and a notepad in his back pocket. He doesn't need them but they send the right vibe: people may recognize him as a career but he's here to work. Nevermind the redhead always floating in his periphery vision. Nevermind.

So, you can see how it's terribly convenient when said non-existant redhead spends the full rotation at the plants station with District Eleven herself and another girl. Pierce has been preparing for the effects of nicotine withdrawal but it hits him like a ton of bricks right then, with a weight in one hand and the other reaching for a pack he left back in Two...

He ducks out of the gym, sweating and disappointed.

Later, post shower and a very expensive cigarette, he shadows Haze. He's no longer trying to be subtle. He's decided; this is the person he will follow, if only to mold her into greatness. This is the person he will push and challenge and whisper sweet visions of glory.

He knows the other Careers won't have him. This is the only way forward.

"Sage or candle?" He inquires, all nonchalance, as he steps into stride with her between the dining hall and the elevator. "Because I've got some demons you could call."

[Deleted]

«    h a i z e a    r o s e - i z a r    »

If it weren't her lack of combat prowess that would kill her, it surely would be her spatial awareness that gets her in the end. Pierce Littleton could have been stalking her since she ever left that villa three days ago and she'd, well, she'd be none the wiser. Terribly equipped with a one track mind, Haizea lost herself in each station that she brought herself to. 

Coffee break! Oh, sweet, bitter mocha. Haizea was learning a lot about herself on this trip to an early grave and one of them was how quickly she could develop a caffeine addiction. She'd never really been a coffee drinker, the grinds too expensive for her family to indulge in, so she fell head over heels once Kirito had told her to drink as much as she'd like. That was his first mistake, the second was leaving the coffee station so utterly defenseless with Haizea around. 

She started to enjoy how it burned her taste buds if she sipped too quick, as if it kept her in line like a mother's scolding. Too sweet or too black - she found she had no preference, she drank coffee like an alcoholic drinks cheap beer: too fast for to ever taste it. Haizea clung to the Marsha, Marsha, Marsha mug as if it were her life line as the netting station instructor started the lesson. She was in the back of the group, trying her hardest to sneak peeks at the coursework through gaps between her peers before giving up within minutes.

That's a bust, she would have to try again later; for now, time for a refill! 

Interrupted on her way, she halts when she's asked sage or candles? The question is one thing, the asker another: Pierce Littleton. "Oh lord, it's you," she lets out without two thoughts, one of the boys she found herself most afraid of. Haizea looks at him with bug eyes, like a bee paralyzed in a cuff fisted. Word travels quick - her botched exorcism of Francine Paragoni as successful as her time with a mace in hand. Half of her wants to believe his joking, but with the expression he wears she can't tell for sure. 

"I bet you do!" She tries to laugh it off when Pierce announces his own demons - this place is teeming with them! "Got any to spare?" A question that shoots out without a second thought, "I'm starting to think they might just help out after all in a place like this," spoken through a mournful sarcasm. She'd have a hard time changing her ways without some kind of demonic possession, that much she'd already accepted, she could only wonder how many a man like Littleton must have brought with him.