bugging! / ruby v. duchess, [bloodbath].
Jun 22, 2024 18:31:17 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽♂️kaitlin. on Jun 22, 2024 18:31:17 GMT -5
cw for drug use
RUBY
WOLFE.
Ruby cannot see properly. This is the first thing she realizes about the strange uniform Ginger shoves her into. A heavy mask weighs on the bridge of her nose, a gaudy, gleaming thing with tinted purple lenses that obfuscate the room more than help her to see. Ginger says something she doesn’t hear, adjusts the uneven frayed fabric dangling from Ruby’s belt, smacks the back of her hand when she goes to push the mask away from her face.
Like a wild beast, she keeps herself to the present, no future in sight, only a fugue state of present tense that shifts around her every few minutes like a tall pine in the autumn breeze. Ginger fusses, forcefully turns her until she can adjust the already too-tight braids down either side of Ruby’s head. Then she tugs at the thick ribbons laced across her back, hard, pulling the boned corset hard enough to hear the grommets strain and bend.
This leads Ruby to the second thing she will realize, which is that she cannot breathe.
Spun back around, Ginger goes sideways and the world slips, until a thin white pill hovers in front of her face for a moment. Ruby doesn’t think she had time to blink before there’s a finger in her mouth and the thing is being pushed under her tongue. The popping her stylist finger sound makes slipping back out of her mouth echoes in the tube as something clenches inside her stomach. A yawning melancholy opens up and swallows her whole before the world shatters around her in familiar technicolor. Ruby lets out a trembling sob that chases after the vibrance when it begins to melt away.
Ruby barely even notices when Ginger loops a final piece around her neck with a cheshire cat smile, a thin ribbon of sorts, then steps back, finally, and the open air side of Ruby’s glass prison seals itself shut.
Blue eyes wild, laughing but desperate. That’s how Ruby steps out of the glass.
Halfway through, the thing had shifted course sharply, and she’d stumbled into the side of it before collapsing in a pile of tangled purple fabric and heavy leather boots. At first, she hadn’t realized it had come to a halt because the floor kept trembling, a low thrumming she thought was surely coming from the tube.
When she looked up through, the glass door had whooshed open so she tumbled through them, ass over kettle, the thick rubber soles of her boots catching on the hem of her skirt. The thing had torn immediately.
A stagger forward—she walks into the corner of something, feels where a bruise will blossom and sees a rainbow bloom instead of the pain. It’s only when she totters backwards, off-kilter and dripping blood, that she realizes she’s picked up a knife by it’s sharp end.
Ruby watches the blood pool in her palm for a moment, watching it form the shape of a lone wolf, before a curl of smoke peels away from its snout where a lit cigarette appears. A grin manifests across her cheeks before she can stop it, canines bared. It’s still painted across her face as she dances her way clumsily across the vibrating floor, springing down the narrow back hallway until an angel wearing red emerges from the smoke screen.
Be nice, be nice, be nice, until someone shows you their teeth. That’s what her Mom always said.
She hopes Duchess sees her smile for what it is.
“Did they give you the stardust, too?”
RUBY
WOLFE.
Ruby cannot see properly. This is the first thing she realizes about the strange uniform Ginger shoves her into. A heavy mask weighs on the bridge of her nose, a gaudy, gleaming thing with tinted purple lenses that obfuscate the room more than help her to see. Ginger says something she doesn’t hear, adjusts the uneven frayed fabric dangling from Ruby’s belt, smacks the back of her hand when she goes to push the mask away from her face.
Like a wild beast, she keeps herself to the present, no future in sight, only a fugue state of present tense that shifts around her every few minutes like a tall pine in the autumn breeze. Ginger fusses, forcefully turns her until she can adjust the already too-tight braids down either side of Ruby’s head. Then she tugs at the thick ribbons laced across her back, hard, pulling the boned corset hard enough to hear the grommets strain and bend.
This leads Ruby to the second thing she will realize, which is that she cannot breathe.
Spun back around, Ginger goes sideways and the world slips, until a thin white pill hovers in front of her face for a moment. Ruby doesn’t think she had time to blink before there’s a finger in her mouth and the thing is being pushed under her tongue. The popping her stylist finger sound makes slipping back out of her mouth echoes in the tube as something clenches inside her stomach. A yawning melancholy opens up and swallows her whole before the world shatters around her in familiar technicolor. Ruby lets out a trembling sob that chases after the vibrance when it begins to melt away.
Ruby barely even notices when Ginger loops a final piece around her neck with a cheshire cat smile, a thin ribbon of sorts, then steps back, finally, and the open air side of Ruby’s glass prison seals itself shut.
Blue eyes wild, laughing but desperate. That’s how Ruby steps out of the glass.
Halfway through, the thing had shifted course sharply, and she’d stumbled into the side of it before collapsing in a pile of tangled purple fabric and heavy leather boots. At first, she hadn’t realized it had come to a halt because the floor kept trembling, a low thrumming she thought was surely coming from the tube.
When she looked up through, the glass door had whooshed open so she tumbled through them, ass over kettle, the thick rubber soles of her boots catching on the hem of her skirt. The thing had torn immediately.
A stagger forward—she walks into the corner of something, feels where a bruise will blossom and sees a rainbow bloom instead of the pain. It’s only when she totters backwards, off-kilter and dripping blood, that she realizes she’s picked up a knife by it’s sharp end.
Ruby watches the blood pool in her palm for a moment, watching it form the shape of a lone wolf, before a curl of smoke peels away from its snout where a lit cigarette appears. A grin manifests across her cheeks before she can stop it, canines bared. It’s still painted across her face as she dances her way clumsily across the vibrating floor, springing down the narrow back hallway until an angel wearing red emerges from the smoke screen.
Be nice, be nice, be nice, until someone shows you their teeth. That’s what her Mom always said.
She hopes Duchess sees her smile for what it is.
“Did they give you the stardust, too?”
[ruby enters the arena, picks up a knife]