to cut you down {{ nyte

[Deleted]

nereus {♔} vespoli Rubble grit beneath each prostrated step parallel the underside of a pier, liter and algae soaking onto the pillars beside him. Sunlight attempting to caress him like a clingy mother while scattered others idled near the water, because that's where the weakest gathered like an ant bed, practically a pool of suckers wasting their expendable usages. Expendable, the word practically swelling on the tip of his tongue, melting bitter-sweet as the fold in front kicked sand along with their dancing feet, chasing one another around the shoreline and into. Having to be the one to somehow pressure down a select few in a childish riot was a hassle in the least, yet the selection was pleasing enough to revive his dying cares; besides, what else could make him give a damn about having to endure being stood up countless times and made a mockery of. Most chary people sized him up in anything besides disgust, as if he himself dipped most of the substances in various forms he was willing to sell from his cousins' garden (albiet, he did occasionally, for purely commercial purposes of course), as if he was only some sordid, shoddy business man. Heathens they were, the ones who judged him just for a line of work, however, striking up a ripred forsaken sale took hours and more insight than they clearly had to figure him as anything else than an entrepreneur. Shifting between the streets and crashing at the ship housing those doltish characters that made up the family he sought to be nothing more than field partners with left his apathy sore, the blur of whatever the last three years added up to only exhaust in the form of time. Over one and a half million minutes wasted, spreading himself over the district like pollute setting a system up to be respected as something more than the squandered child he was before hand, yet here he was, lavishing himself in choices to sway into a, hopefully (or non-hopefully, either way he barely had urges to hold any of his clients close to his heart), healthy addiction while disinterest practically soothed out of his pores. But it isn't as if the ones in front of him (that blur of flailing limbs and screaming and chanting and nonsense) were any more successful than he was in life; they each had a one in one hundred and thirty three chance of being murdered just by the end of that day alone, so there had to be a chance one of them were lesser than him. Considering the abominations wallowing away, the competition was, obviously, horridly low. One girl sputtering water up from her throat as another boy tripped onto his face, good, clumsy idiots like those could never pass off as anything more than genetic failures nevertheless anybody ornate with hopes of being a regular with Nereus- they were far too stupid. Such people would barely make it home alive, just imagine the chaos that would bring soon have they get away with anything more powerful than a sucker. No no no, he needed somebody who had an existence of something more than simply choking, collapsing or popping around a volleyball (only by thinking of an object so fruitless made goosebumps litter under his skin.) Observing each animal closer, transversing close enough to smell the rotting of their teeth and to feel the heat bouncing off them like rubber and sticking to him like glue, was as a hammer to his plateau of a forehead- a constant pounding deeper into his enchepalon. Somehow each passer-by managed to be even more insufferable than the last, dragging Nereus closer and closer into an abandoned bench save for wads of pink and green clotted sugar. Insufferable, almost each one of them, how could somebody waste away in such a life of nothingness- each moment of life stacking onto one another on sloppy edges from misshaping their time into anything less than unimportance. Stuffing his time into his hands even tugged on his stomach, wasting time wallowing on some seat felt of a sin, no matter the feeling of being over dramatic; how do people live this, consuming hours of time like bags of chocolate on just ignoring their own existence. The crook in Nereus' nose fit unevenly in the fault line between his hands, wiping the pale of his face in an attempt to avoid eye saw contact, staring down and being stared down like premeditated murder, sweat collecting between hairline and the edges of his fingertips left him pondering only one statement on repeat; the beach is useless.

[[nyte]]

A P H R O D I T E  X A N

A client's pay and then some. Pale green lips twisted into the most spiteful of smiles as I count the bills clutched within polished nails. Fifty, Sixty... The numbers increased with every heeled step, the merriment of their tune against pavement creating the perfect atmosphere to sing of my riches. The breeze whipped against exposed legs, biting a heels only comforted by the thinnest of straps. Normally, I wouldn't even think to wear such garments. They mimicked those of a woman traversing the sandy shores. Fish preparing to throw themselves into the tide and allow it's rage to consume them. They were not meant for a girl merely making her way back to a house void of any others for a few cherished hours.

I've never dressed conservatively, never been bothered by the whistles or glances I received. But I despised these frail cloths hanging to frail thighs. They weren't me. But I had to wear them. To feel power and to be loved and cherished like I never had in my life. I was addicted to the pain which I could inflict on others without so much a lifting a violent hand against them. not that I was opposed to such a notion.

He'd given me four-hundred up front, and with the extra he'd left lying about his drawer, it was a profitable night. Six-hundred seventy-three dollars to add to a growing collection. Remorse has evaded me for many months now, innocence slowly dripping from gaping wounds broken open daily by no other hands than my own. Slow training, like the hours he'd spent forcing me into that gym. Just as my hands grew accustomed to the heavy hilt within my palms, my heart became immune to the abuse I allowed. So that I could be sure, no matter what salt was rubbed into my wounds I felt nothing. Emotions were weakness. They were for those with innocence, with a chance at making something good of themselves upon reaching adulthood.

My innocence was long dead, a fading memory like that of my mother's bloodied lips. Quite honestly, I've asked myself whether such a thing ever existed within one as cold as I. Born to a mother who cared more for a man than her own child, raised with fire and anger and blood. I rarely felt much of anything anymore. Father is about the only thing I can bring myself to give even the slightest of love, and even then it felt forced. It felt wrong. Yet I still managed to care. Somehow.

I wanted out of this sin. As soon as I crossed the threshold to the small abode the dirtied cloth was torn from my skin. Shoes thrown so forcefully upon the hardwood that pieces of the shattered oak collided with the chipping paint. It'd fallen into such disarray when father took up drinking. The stress of mother's death and raising a child he'd never known of made the kindly man crack. I was helpless as I watched his childlike innocence fade with every bottle he downed. I wasn't sad, honestly I felt nothing as the world slowly corrupted him. It was inevitable, one could only hope to avoid such excruciating death as long as possible.

My preoccupied mind allowed for my body to do as it pleased, adorning itself in clothing suited for the ocean's breeze. I'd never much cared for the turquoise water, but I just needed to feel something other than this wretched apathy. For once, I yearned for something. It'd been so long since actual vulnerability had made its way into through a kink in carefully maintained armor. I was helpless as it demanded me out of the house, bare feet tearing against concrete as pure instinct directed me towards a pier.

In this moment and time, I wanted nothing more than to disappear. To start a new and be something other than a whore.

Was it weakness that drove me forwards? Away from the carefully constructed routine that gave me everything I could ever want free of pain and heartache. To escape from my own self-inflicted misery that I knew would return come evening, come the time I decided to not act the fool and return to the safety which was my own sanity.

I didn't want to worry about much of anything at this moment. So I ran far, far away. What drew me to him, I'm not sure. My eyes happened upon him by chance and perhaps recognized the bitter glint that lay within my own blank stare. Why I did it, I don't much know, nor am I worried in the slightest.

Arms folded in front of me as if some sort of shield, bare feet bring me toward him. Smile pasted upon a blank canvas I speak, the tone I take not one of persuasion or seduction. Not even one of forced emotion. A statement, brazen as my actions. "You look miserable."

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