Electroclash | Sarah (
electrocynic) wrote2015-08-02 08:40 pm
MCA #5 into Town, Sunday Evening leading into Sunday Night
That had definitely been... something.
Sarah hadn't minded the wacky Technicolour '20s-by-way-of-'50s musical world she'd ended up in for a bit after trying to surprise a mook with a blaster a few days ago. Nor had she minded the nudity involved in the escape today because she'd been sufficiently furious not to give a single flying fuck what anyone thought of any of her wobbly bits, or who saw them.
But when you'd had your powers for about as long as you'd been getting your period, getting them snatched away even in something that had turned out not to be real (and even just for a while) was a pretty hard hit. Especially together with a very much real kidnapping.
She hadn't remembered what it was like not to be able to talk to electric things. Now she did.
She didn't like it.
And it was too late in the evening, or too early in the morning, to be calling up London to complain. At least not without getting pestered stupid fucking pointless questions like what had her calling people in the middle of the night. Which meant it was pointless to call because it wasn't as if she wanted to talk. She wanted –– something. But not that. So. No fucking calling anyone. She could sit here in her kitchen and drum the table with her fingertips until she calmed the hell down.
Bumsticks.
... Yeah, she couldn't stay still. She couldn't even stay home. She tried valiantly for a good while, but –– fuck it. Eventually she found herself in town in the middle of the night. Lighting cigarette after cigarette.
[ooc: Look, just because I couldn't brain for the BDE doesn't mean my characters shouldn't suffer consequences omg. Open, yes.]
Sarah hadn't minded the wacky Technicolour '20s-by-way-of-'50s musical world she'd ended up in for a bit after trying to surprise a mook with a blaster a few days ago. Nor had she minded the nudity involved in the escape today because she'd been sufficiently furious not to give a single flying fuck what anyone thought of any of her wobbly bits, or who saw them.
But when you'd had your powers for about as long as you'd been getting your period, getting them snatched away even in something that had turned out not to be real (and even just for a while) was a pretty hard hit. Especially together with a very much real kidnapping.
She hadn't remembered what it was like not to be able to talk to electric things. Now she did.
She didn't like it.
And it was too late in the evening, or too early in the morning, to be calling up London to complain. At least not without getting pestered stupid fucking pointless questions like what had her calling people in the middle of the night. Which meant it was pointless to call because it wasn't as if she wanted to talk. She wanted –– something. But not that. So. No fucking calling anyone. She could sit here in her kitchen and drum the table with her fingertips until she calmed the hell down.
Bumsticks.
... Yeah, she couldn't stay still. She couldn't even stay home. She tried valiantly for a good while, but –– fuck it. Eventually she found herself in town in the middle of the night. Lighting cigarette after cigarette.
[ooc: Look, just because I couldn't brain for the BDE doesn't mean my characters shouldn't suffer consequences omg. Open, yes.]

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But, there was nothing. Bellamy kicked a tree hard and then stalked into town, muscles corded with tension. The burst of orange light coming from nearby caught his attention and he pulled up to a stop.
"Haven't seen one of those in a long time," he muttered.
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Sarah didn't exactly hear his muttering, but she heard something, which was enough for her to turn her head and look over.
She didn't look too surprised to see someone else here.
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"Yeah, bloody marvelous, isn't it?"
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"Why are you out here anyway?" He knew why he was there. He had no other place to go.
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She took another drag off her cigarette. The acid in her voice mellowed back into a general mild annoyance. "A girl can't just be outside after another episode of Fandom fuckery?"
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If she wanted to mouth off, he could give just as good as he got. In fact, it was almost a comfort to find someone willing to bitch at him.
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There had actually been at least one since she'd come here. But details.
"There's just... this."
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He exhaled a laugh.
"Wow, what a place this is."
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Dropped her cigarette butt on the ground and step on it with the toes of her boot.
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Seriously. So far, you weren't her new favourite, Bellamy.
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Still, she needed to dig into her pocket for another cigarette anyway, so after a moment, she held the open packet out towards him. "Go on, then."
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He paused and eyed the cigarette.
"Thanks for the overwhelming sympathy."
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No, she wasn't going to offer him a light unless he asked for it.
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"So, what's your story?" he asked, sliding the cigarette in his pocket. "Why are you here? Is it voluntary?"
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Because sticking around made no sense when shit like what had just happened happened.
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"Ever think of leaving?"
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Did he feel chastised yet?
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The only girl who'd be able to boss him around would be Clarke and that would take time.
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And he'd only been around for a fraction of how long she'd been here.
"But, you seem to fit right in with most of the people I've run into so far," he told her, shrugging. "Guess like likes like."
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She might have cause to be offended.
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Bellamy doubted they knew each other. Clarke didn't really seem the type to keep company with a cigarette smoking loud mouth.
"Some guy named York. A few other people who nearly pissed their pants at the sight of a gun."
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She wasn't even kidding.
She wore it like a badge of honour, to boot.
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Someone was a little hung up on the power loss. Just a little.
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It was much more effective to turn on her heels and begin walking away.
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He thought of Octavia.
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That was very sincere.