Fake it [Narcisa]

[VIXEN HARMONY ST. PIERRE]

It had been a strange experience for Vicky. The young woman thrived on attention, but being here was something new all together. She had people practically fawning over her, eager to take care of her, eager to make sure she wasn't hurting herself, part of it was just paying her mind constantly just to make sure she wouldn't cut for attention. She never had. She'd never cut to start with, but that wasn't what the world saw. They saw an unstable, dangerous girl who'd kill just to have a pretty girl's eyes on her for a few moments, and who would draw so heavily on her terrible past that she could cry at will to lure help to her side, just because she wanted people around her.

While Vicky was an attention seeker, and while yes she had drawn on that pain in the past, she didn't like it, and she wasn't a danger to herself or anyone else.... She had been the victim, and she was very vocal about that, even if nobody believed her, or they twisted it, so that her history of abuse was the reason for her self harm. Indeed the first few days she had here had been mixed. Full of encounters with both sympathisers and detractors. She had been largely very lucky though. They had heard her preference for female staff.

Vicky hadn't seen a man, except in passing, since she got here and she was just fine with that. the twenty-year-old actress couldn't handle situations with men well at all, they just made her uncomfortable, she was a pretty girl, she knew that all too well, and she was good at making people stare, she was glad for that. The problem was when men stared at her. Their eyes started to discomfort her, she feared that eyes would progress to hands and hands to other, less savoury body parts. The girl didn't want that. She'd spent years living that nightmare, and it had left her paranoid, uncomfortable, and unable to function in the real world, on any practical level.


So there she sat the women's showers, on a bench, laying out her clothes for once she'd finished her morning shower. It was a nice one too, a simple, white dress, matching orange underwear that would match her hair, and a pair of nice, simple white heals. She wouldn't need to over dress, she knew that she wouldn't be getting much more attention than she ever had , and she was dressing for comfort. Taking her hair brush, razor and other equipment, she retreated behind the closed doors of a shower, and as the hot water started to flow, so too did song.

"All day... Starin' at the ceilin' makin' friends with shadows on my wall... All night Hearin' voices tellin' me that I should get some sleep, because tomorrow might be good, for somethin'... " She started in her pretty, sweet, yet loud singing voice. It was a depressing so, sure, but honestly, it fit her pretty well right now so she thought, as she continued to sing. This song was on repeat in her mind and so it was on repeat in her voice, until finally, after quite a while she heard the doors open. confident that there wouldn't be a man entering into the room the redhead began to formulate a plan as to how she would get the attention of the newcomer girl grabbing her towel, she turned her shower off, but only once she was sure the girl had had enough of a chance to undress.

Guilty was the first word you'd use to describe the Histrionic girl in this moment she didn't want to bother somebody or to force them to deal with he rbut she did need attention, in a weird sense while she had no eyes on her it was almost like she didn't exist. The fiery haired creature allowed her long hair, almost waist-length when wet, to descend down her back over the towel as she walked from the shower, still singing, her eyes moving to where she was sure the other girl had moved to. "Oh, hello..." Breathed the girl gently. pretending to put on her shy and nervous face.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[NARCISA VOGLIA DESIDERIO]

you're gone, gone, gone away

i watched you disappear

Scheduled showers were something of an annoyance. Narcisa, despite her dependent inclinations, found it irritating that she was only allowed to take showers at certain times. Not all patients were scheduled the way she was, in fact, most low risk patients were allowed to roam freely and shower whenever. Hell, even some medium risk one's were too. Narcisa wasn't so lucky; her current therapist decided that she needed more structure in her life, and it needed to be enforced. An odd thing to decide for someone everyone claimed to be extremely co-dependent, Narcisa thought, but she was no expert, so the woman never argued.

Narcisa glanced at her phone, checking the time. She grew antsy when she was left waiting- any human contact was better than none at all. The guards would be here soon. Maybe she could try to talk to one of them - Alex, the one that usually came to haul her about, was rather cute in a boyish way. Not at all the usual Xavier product. Her own brother looked more fitting here, with all of his tattoos, more than Alex did. She liked that.

Now, her goal wasn't really to seduce him, as many of the women held at Xavier seemed to do to the very poorly trained staff. Rather, Narcisa had found the library to be rather lacking, and had to resort to other means of entertainment. Teasing the guards was one of them. The inked girl had no trouble making friends, and so she made a game as acquiring as many as possible. The hardest part was keeping all of their names straight.

Her eyes passed over her room while she waited. The higher ups had allowed her to decorate it, and she had taken full advantage of it. Beautiful photo's of animals and landscape hung from the walls, and on her small oak dresser (which her brother had bought for her on her birthday to match her large oak wardrobe that reminded her of the one from the first Narnia movie) sat half a dozen pictures of the ones she held dear: family picture with all of her siblings along with her mother and Kevin (her step father), a picture held at arms length of her and Cito (her brother) that had been taken during their trip to the Grand Canyon, and other pictures as such. Her eyes rested on one photograph in particular. The curly hair and golden eyes of her lost fiance, Paul, made her own eyes startes to blur as her heart jumped.

It had been much too long since she had seen him, since she had lost him. Narcisa hated to admit it, but the feel of Paul's hand in hers, the sound of his heartbeat.... those memories were fading. It broke her heart to know that he was leaving her even now, in just one more way. As if death hadn't been enough. She was sure that if his picture wasn't with her every day, his face would begin to fade as well. Cito said this was a natural healing process, to forget. It didnt feel that way. To her, it felt like Paul was just abandoning her again.

A knock on a wall broke her reverie, and she dragged her eyes away from the picture. "Hey, Rio. You ready?" Alex's voice came through the door, addressing Narcisa by one of her many nicknames. He no longer barged in anymore- last time her had caught her without decent amount of clothes on. Narcisa hadn't minded, but Alex hadn't stopped apologizing for at least a week, and was careful not to trespass again. Narcisa smiled at the man's voice, jumped off her bed, grabbed her duffle bag full of clothes and cosmetics, and opened the door.

"Yeah, let's go. Rub a dub dub, or something like that," She said in a teasing voice and a fake smile, trying to cover up the wave of emotion she had just experience.

Alex took her arm gently as a chivalrous act to guide her. "I believe that only applies to bathtubs," he replies with a slight chuckle. Narcisa found comfort in his touch- he was safe and would not let anything happen to her. Although she did not mind living in the asylum too much, the inked girl was wary of the other people who had come to call this place home- after all, it was an asylum. House of the crazy and such.

The walk to the showers was very short, so her mind didn't have much time to wander back to Paul before they arrived. Paul cleared his throat, a signal that he would be leaving her from this point. "See you in an hour, yeah?" he asked. That was their usual agreement- he was technically supposed to wait outside the showers the entire time, but they both knew how boring that would be, so the had made a secret pact, another schedule of sorts. He would meet her right after her shower ended, and he trusted her not to leave in the meantime. She considered her current emotional situation, and then asked, "Would it be okay to request another thirty minutes?" He nodded in understanding, and that was that.

She immediately shrugged out of her sweats upon entering the shower room and tossed her duffle bag next to another bag laying not to far away, taking note that only a single other shower was running and the pleasant voice bringing sweet music from the corresponding stall. Narcisa's actions were immediate. Barefoot and acting on impulse, her hands found the other bag immediately, searching for something, anything that she might find even partially interesting. Her eyes located a stick of deodorant, a fragrance she was particularly fond of. Narcisa had forgotten to pack deodorant.... she quickly transferred the stick from the other duffle bag to hers, making sure to zip up both bags quickly and quietly.

The shower from a few stalls down shut off, and Narcisa's heart jumped. She immediately scurried into the nearest stall before the other woman could see her, not out of fear of being seen nude, but of fear of getting caught stealing. Although she knew better, especially with all the crazies about and their insane reactions to even the smallest of discrepancies, she couldnt help the occasional theft. Literally, she couldn't help it, it just happened befor she even thought about it, almost as if a reflex reaction.

The girls voice made her heart thumped even harder when she heard a soft voice greet her. She had been caught, she just knew. Still wary and slightly hopeful that she was wrong, she managed in a perfectly calm voice, "Hey. Hope you don't mind the company." The woman with skin of art closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that she had made a clean escape.

all that's left is a ghost of you

word count:
one one three five
lyrics:
little talks - of monsters and men
clothing:
well, not yet... its in the bag xD
notes:
her muse is actually pretty dead, despite the length of the post.... anyway, here ya go.

[VIXEN HARMONY ST. PIERRE]

The girl with the fox’s name was one of the lucky ones. She didn’t have scheduled showers, and honestly, if she did, she’d likely completely lose it – At least publically. The girl was high-strung at the best of times, because you never knew when the things that gave her trouble would come to light, but knowing she had to do things in a pattern would have just bothered her more. Not because it made her paranoid or anything like that, no, it was simply because she’d had her freedom taken away by her conditions, her fears and her own mind in the past, she’d been robbed of freedom by the things her father put her through and that was quite enough for her without the added influence of a strict, demanding schedule. The thought had never crossed her mind however and that was a very good thing because there was a good chance that she would throw a tantrum over it.

Every small freedom meant a lot, especially given her history of “self-harm”, which, in a more competent asylum would have led to her being watched almost constantly and being locked in a padded room, at least she thought so. That she did know, and that had crossed her mind. She found herself very happy, that at least the incompetent staff here had thought of better ways to spend their time and energy than constantly policing the redhead’s most irrelevant movements, looking for signs of self-harm which she had so ridiculously been accused of by the woman who had actually damaged her. Vixen’s life certainly had not been the easiest, but she had held up better than she was given credit for. At least here, she could pretend that meant something.

The Fireheaded creature was, today, feeling ignored. One of the downsides of all of this freedom meant that she was left aching for attention, whereas if she had a guard, or a nurse accompanying her regularly, it would mean that she would have them breathing down her neck. Sure there was a difference between good attention and bad attention to most people but the main thing with the girl here was that she wasn’t ignored, or forced into dealing with a man. It was a rough thing, being so scared of interactions with men, because it wasn’t rational, and it had, so many times, left her feeling stupid and useless when she had denied a perfectly nice man the chance to do something positive in her life. It also meant that she didn’t have the attention she fed off, and in fact, if a man had tried to give it to her she would run. Vixen momentarily contemplated the schedules that some patients had. Maybe, if she had some say in when it would happen, it wouldn’t be so bad… Or maybe it would mean being stuck with some guy on a regular basis. Normal places wouldn’t have been the type to make her deal with her phobias in such a way, but a normal place would asl have had a woman check up on her regularly. She finally, after a brief time of contemplation decided against the idea.

That was the thought that had just ended as the door opened and Vixen’s new objective had entered the room. She was excited, manic for the prospect of new attentions, of people to talk to, people who would believe her, or even just listen and nod to pacify her. Yeah, she knew that what people told her while they gave her attention wasn’t always sincere but she didn’t give a fuck, as long as she was being talked to and not left alone in her mind to suffer the thoughts of the things she’d gone through, at the hands of her father, and the director she used to work with. As long as she wasn’t left to see her mother’s prone, almost lifeless body once more in her mind, she would be just fine.
With a plan in mind, she found herself face to face with the most gloriously beautiful girl she’d seen since her arrival, covered from head to toe in ink, Adorned with such beautiful images. Unfortunately, it was only a fleeting glance before the other girl darted into a shower stall, but Vixen found that to be quite enough of a look at this unknown, to her knowledge, un-named girl to fascinate her beyond belief. Like Vixen this girl had fire for hair. Unlike Vixen she didn’t have a freckle to speak of. She was taller than Vicky was too; all in all she was simply, unquestionably to Vixen’s eyes, beautiful.

That vision of beauty was gone now, hiding behind a stall, and now the plan needed to change. She was hoping to have caught the girl a little earlier, before she had ran behind cover, this would have made It a lot harder to actually receive any real attention. Sitting down on the bench beside her bag she begin to brush the huge quantity of fiery hair that descended down the entire length of her back.

I don’t mind company really… She said as she continued to work the brush through her waves of long, red hair, and start to strategize about what she’d do to drag more of a reaction from this girl. I’m Vixen St. Pierre by the way, but I prefer Vicky… She said in a sing-song tone, though desperation was starting to creep up. She couldn’t have this fail no she was right there with a chance to get the attention of a beautiful girl, maybe even more than simple attention. Vicky now pondered if this delicious creature was inclined toward the ladies the way she was. Vicky wondered if maybe overt flirting was the best way to provoke a response, but then, maybe sticking to being shy was going to get her further. Maybe the best course of action was a combination of the two, shy, awkward flirting.

“You’re really pretty, you know…” She said in her best attempt at a shy voice as she worked with her hair, finding it hard to commit to the long, arm-exhausting task of brushing this much hair in this moment. She would stop and get up again now, opening her bag. “I’d love to have a better look at your ink, sometime” She allowed herself to continue. This was going to be a start, she thought, it might provoke a generous, or confident girl out to show Vicky what it was she’d asked to see. “I just noticed you had a lot, I didn’t really catch what any of it was meant to be.” She said, annoyed slightly that she’d only received a fleeting glance at the beauty in the stall.

Going through the motions of preparing to leave she reached into her bag, with no actual intention of going anywhere she grabbed her deo- wait. No she didn’t where was her deodorant? “You haven’t seen a stick of deodorant since you got in have you? I can’t find mine.” She posed the question to the babe in the stall. It just hit her. She could goad the girl out of the stall with an idea about privacy. “I’ll just borrow some of yours, if that’s okay…” She said, and she reached over to the other bag, with no actual intent of prying into it. This was bound to get her noticed, right?

[/Blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[NARCISA VOGLIA DESIDERIO]

you're gone, gone, gone away

i watched you disappear

Her heart was still pounding as the other female spoke. At least the woman seemed kind enough, maybe even if Narcisa did get caught, the lady would be forgiving. She absently took note that the voice speaking to her sounded young, around her age. Absurdly, Narcisa considered the idea of making a new friend. Assuming, of course, that she was able to get away with her thievery.

"Narcisa," the young redhead replied as way of introduction. She had neither turned on the water nor left the stall, which she just realized might be odd behavior, but she was still afraid to take action; if she left the stall she might come off as overly anxious, but she would not be able to hear the rustling of her bag over the water. But the woman could think of no other alternative. Instead, she continued talking, "But I really go by anything... usually Cisa, I guess. Vixen, though. That is a very cool name. Makes you sound very fierce." She was stalling for time, trying to think of something, anything to make her seem less suspicious.

Deodorant wasn't really a big deal. Narcisa had an older brother, so she knew how to defend herself if the other girl did become violent over such a small thing. And anyway, the dainty voice, she assumed, probably had a dainty figure to go along with it, and Narcisa would have no trouble taking such a small creature out, if it really came down to it. And she didn't feel guilty for stealing at all, no remorse whatsoever. But Narcisa absolutenesshated getting caught. They were always awkward times for her- she had to act guilty and remorseful for something, and then what do you sau? "Oh, sorry I took your stuff.... I won't do it again." Which would be bullshit. She stole, she always stole. So there was no point in saying she wouldn't. Which always put her at a loss for words when people confronted her about her thieving tendencies.

Despite her current state of unease, a proud smile came to her lips when the woman commented on her art. Oh yes, the ink. That was something Narcisa would always love about herself- the beautiful art she was adorned in head to toe. Her body was a collection, a history, a story that she had branded herself with for all to see. Each and every color on her body had a meaning, a purpose. Many were dedicated to her brother, Ciso, and her lost fiance, Paul. Some were references to her mother, others to just things she loved. With a grin, Narcisa replied, "Thank you very much. Oh, you're welcome to come look at any time. There is certainly a lot to see." She added the last bit with a chuckle. And she meant it- Narcisa was not shy to show off her body, especially her ink. She looked down at her naked body with a proud gleam in her eye. Yes, she had turned her body into a living, walking masterpiece.

Just as her muscles had started to relax, the other woman mentioned her missing deodorant. Just like that, Narcisa's heart had picked up it's insanely quick pace again, and she started stumbling on her words, "Oh... um, d-deodorant... No... not... not that I can recall." Her brain went to overdrive, trying to think of a way to-

She couldn't help herself. At the girls mentioning at borrowing her stick of deodorant, Narcisa burst into the open room, eyes wide with fear. "No, wait," she called, and then immediately scolding herself for not keeping calm. Deodorant, after all, was not that uncommon, and maybe she could have pulled off the lie of the coincidence of the girls having the same brand. Now she was backtracking, the inked girls brain moving a million miles a minute trying to think of a way to cover up her absurd behavior.

While she was thinking, her eyes passed over the other woman. She was a redhead, like Narcisa, but had not a single speck of ink on her as far as the woman could tell. She was skinny, too, hardly any meat on her. But there was no denying the woman's beauty- her bright eyes and freckled face were quite lovely.

The assessment and the gathering of her thoughts only took Narcisa about two seconds before coming up with a plan and saying, "My bag is embarrassingly messy. I'm usually better about it, but I was in a hurry and just kinda threw random crap into it," which was very much a lie. Narcisa's bag, as it always was, was incredibly organized and everything inside was picked out carefully, except for the deodorant. Everything, she knew, would be in it's proper place inside the duffle bag, but she had a plan that could work, if she was careful.

Flashing a friendly smile, effectively wiping off the panicked look off her face that she'd been wearing coming out of her stall, she said to the other redhead, "Here, let me see if I can find it for you," and walked over to the back, pickling it up at an angle to start the disorganization she needed to be held within. Then she proceeded to open the back at an angle away from the other girl, and, after swiftly moving the deodorant stick out of sight and near the bottom, start to act as if she was rummaging through her stuff in an earnest attempt to find the missing antiperspirant, also effectively disorganizing everything within the bag.

One had to hand it too her, she was certainly clever. She looked up to flash another friendly smile at Vicky before returning to her false search.

all that's left is a ghost of you

word count:
nine five zero
lyrics:
little talks - of monsters and men
clothing:
well, not yet... its in the bag xD
notes:
my askia muse decided to fuck up narcisa and make her jittery and nervous, but oh well. at least i've got a reply for you. these two are gonna be awesome!

[VIXEN HARMONY ST. PIERRE]

Narcisa. That was an interesting name. To Vixen, a long standing fan of the Harry Potter series, the name had sinister connotations, but this sweet seeming girl didn’t give off the sort of sinister vibe that the foxy creature associated that name with. It was certainly out there. Cocking her head, the girl grinned. “That’s a really pretty name.” Vixen started. “Not something that you hear too often…” She said, deciding that she liked the other girl’s name, even if, in her eyes it wasn’t suitable for the pretty young woman in the shower cubicle.
The girl with the Fox’s name listened to Cisa, as she apparently preferred to be called. While Vicky loved to be complimented, she couldn’t help but wonder what would come of this whole situation. The girl wasn’t showering yet, just standing in the cubicle making conversation. Was it possible that she was just self-conscious about her body? If that was the case, then why would she have chosen to cover it in ink. It seemed to Vixen that tattoos were the stuff of somebody who wanted to be seen, and who would color their body, to express themselves, to both themselves and others.
It was odd just how severe the reaction was, and the nature of the whole thing. Vixen had expected the girl to rush out and move to clutch her bag, talking about privacy, and of course then Vicky would have just prevented her from returning to the shower. What actually happened though was completely unexpected, why would the girl have rushed out to defend the fact that her bag was messy? There was nothing overwhelmingly clean about Xavier. Sure there was the sterile feel of hospitals, but the staff in this place was covered from head to toe ink, they had some terrible habits, and Vicky was willing to wager that a lot of them were total slobs. Moreover she was hardly the world’s neatest person, but of course it was difficult to tell that at the glance that Narcisa had at Vixen.
The whole deodorant thing had made the girl somewhat hesitant that was odd, perhaps she knew more than she let on. Honestly, it was just a stick of deodorant, Even if it was stolen there was literally no chance that Vixen would care all that much, honestly, it would lead to her having something to talk to the thief about, and that was honestly one of the major goals in this whole situation, to talk to Cisa. So while Vicky didn’t know the girl had her deodorant, she also wouldn’t have cared, and was just a little suspicious that something may have been up.
A little bewildered by the way the girl darted out of the shower Vixen gave a light smile. She’d accomplished her mission either way. The object of her attention was out of the shower, and hopefully, she’d be able to occupy the girl’s focus and at the same time find herself getting the interactions she so desperately craved. When the girl retrieved her bag in that rushed panicky fashion. As the girl rummaged through her bag, Vixen took the opportunity to check out her ink. Angel wings, those were pretty, Vixen has humoured the idea of getting a pair angelic wings before , but she had gotten nervous, and backed down, There were stars on Narcisa’s lower back, those were very pretty, Vixen had an urge to reach out and touch, finding the girl just gorgeous, but of course she resisted that temptation, not wanting to do to Narcisa what her father did to her. It would be rare that Vixen made any physical contact, aside from intentionally bumping into someone, without warning them.
“I love the tattoos on your back…” Vixen said in a friendly tone, as her eyes wandered a little lower. By now she’d began to check Narcisa out, which, she wasn’t being terribly coy about, but of course, if it did seem to bother the girl, she would simply veil it, as having been checking out the girl’s ink, and hope for the best. She’d get this girl talking to her yet. She didn’t want to go back outside the man-safe zone that was the women’s shower block, but she’d need to if she wanted to find attention that wasn’t from Narcisa.

All I need to do is just prat fall. If she thinks I’m hurt she’ll come over, make sure I’m okay, hang around and talk to me out of sympathy… Then, after a while I’ll say I’m doing just fine, once I know some more about her. I hope she’s gay… I really hope she’s gay, God she’s gorgeous...

The girl thought, her eyes fixated distractedly on the Narcisa’s ass. As Cisa shot that smile to her, Vixen had her head in the clouds, completely missing the smile that was offered, and probably alerting the tattooed girl that she was being a little too attentive of the woman’s ink, to seriously have been too concerned with tattoos. Looking up after a while she realized she probably needed to say something more to avoid just that suspicion. “I really adore wing tattoos. I was considering getting a pair myself, before they put me in here.” She said with sadness hanging in her voice. She didn’t want to be here and she didn’t need to be. Plus, looking at Narcisa she realized just how much she would have loved that tattoo.
“Any luck?” She asked the surreptitious Narcisa, wondering what would make the search with a stick of deodorant take so long. She was starting to get nervous, that maybe this whole search was just a way to avoid conversation and make things less awkward for Narcisa. Maybe she’d ruined her chances with her behaviour here. She couldn’t handle that if it were the case, it would mean she’d have to leave, to risk confronting her phobias in order to find somebody to spend her time with. No she had to make this work.

Come on… She thought as she started to play with her fiery mane.

[/size][/center]

[NARCISA VOGLIA DESIDERIO]

you're gone, gone, gone away

i watched you disappear

Luckily, the woman seemed to go along with Narcisa's strange behavior. She knew she was acting like such a weirdo, but she had to keep it up now that she'd started, hopefully working on toning down her strangeness. Even though their first meeting was not exactly an honest one, she still saw Vicky as a potential friend. Hell, if someone could be nice enough to her after she acted like a moron, they were certainly someone Narcisa could see spending time with.

At the comment on her name, Narcisa smirked and said, "No, I suppose it isnt... My mom was fond of Cuban names. My brother's name is Cito, which is another Cuban name." She smiled, thinking of her brother and his kindness, bringing her here to the asylum. He was a kind soul, really.

Narcisa had the habit of jumping from one train of though to another rather quickly, and a lot of the time she thought out loud, so she had picked up the habit of rambling. Cito had told her she needed to be careful when she started rambling, because the doctors said it may lead to one of her 'episodes', but she hadn't encountered that problem yet, so she kept talking away.

And the mention of her tattoos made her smile wide and throw a glance over her shoulder. She took notice of the girl's eyes carefully examining her ink, and she felt a rush of pride stir within her. She loved her ink, it was truly her pride and joy. "Thank you. I always was fascinated by the idea of telling a story with my body." And she did - each and every tattoo had it's meaning, a story of it's own.

When the girl mentioned the wings on her back, Narcisa's smile diminished fractionally. She had gotten her wings after Pal had died, in honor of the angel that came so suddenly in her life and left just as quickly. Her mind flashed back to the times when she lay naked with her love, and he held her close, kissing her back. She remembered the warm feeling that spread from his lips, giving her the mental image of wings emerging from her back. When he died, she was desperate to keep him with her, so the first thing she did was get wings, right above the stars on her lower back. The thought of him made her sad, but she was glad that they were beautiful in the eyes of someone else. That meant they represented him perfectly.

"Wings are a lovely image, they can represent so much. My wings... they are one of my favorites. I had mine done for my fiance, who passed away a few months ago, right before I was sent here. I think a pair of wings would look lovely on you, darling. And judging by the amount of ink all over this asylum, I'm sure there's a staff member or two who could help you out there if you really wanted it. Though, getting a tattoo is a pretty huge decision. And your skin is rather beautiful, so you may want to be careful." She said. She turned to look at the girl fully. Her skin was pale, and, as Narcisa had stated, beautiful. But she wasn't sure how the young woman's freckles would work with the ink. Although she had a lot of them, Narcisa was hardly an expert on tattoos. And though she loved seeing the stories people wrote on themselves, she did believe that some people were better without the extra images. She wasn't sure weather the young redhead before her would have her beauty enhanced or diminished by tattoos.

Narcisa shrugged, remembering her search for deodorant. "I can't seem to find any. Sorry Vicky." She said simply. She hoped the girl wouldn't insist on looking herself, although she doubted that would happen. Narcisa set her bag down. "I have perfume, though, if you'd like that. I know they aren't really the same, but it should hold you for a bit." She offered another friendly smile.

all that's left is a ghost of you

word count:
six seven six
lyrics:
little talks - of monsters and men
clothing:
well, not yet... its in the bag xD
notes:
n/a

[VIXEN HARMONY ST. PIERRE]

It was amazing what a sad story could do to swing a person's emotions. Human empathy had gotten the best of Vixen in this moment. Though her intentions didn't start out sexually, they'd certainly gone that way. Vixen continued her train of though as she listened to what tattoos were to Narcisa. Vixen found herself agreeing, as her eyes remained fixed – and they weren't currently on the woman's tattoo's, though she wasn't going to say that, she wasn't sure how it would be taken. When she talked about what the tattoos she personally wore were to her though, Vixen's wandering eyes were suddenly tugged up to actually admire the wings.

Given what those angelic wings had meant to the girl, it was hard not to look, it was hard not to have her heart strings pulled by this unfortunate girl's situation right now. For just a moment sexual intent left Vixen, though she would still deceive the girl, and she would still want something sexual from her; she wouldn't actively pursue it in this moment. Instead she wanted to speak with Compassion and sympathy for the poor woman before her, she wanted to hug her and hold her. Narcisa's situation was not a happy one and Vicky could understand that much.

I can't really talk about anything true and have myself not just sound like a blowhard...

[/i] The girl thought wanting desperately to make some sort of connection out of this because it would be one of the strongest ways she could have bonded with the girl... But she didnt want to lie about losing someone important to her it didn't strike her as right. She contemplated what she could actually do here, but unfortunately there was nothing worth remembering about her father, and nothing she could think of to represent her mother... Unless... That it's self could be some way to turn this into a positive connection point.

“Wow...I'm sorry for your loss...” Vixen said in genuine sorrow. The redhead had never lost a partner before, much less a fiance. “I haven't been through anything like that... But there is one person I'd love to pay a tribute to. My mother... I've never been too sure what to get to represent her but I'd still love to have something one day. She was a lovely lady, and though she died when I was young, she was one of the most caring people I ever met. She was wheelchair bound, but never stopped her from doing the best she could for me. She was always very bright and happy... Until my dad did what he did to us...” Vixen had never actually considered what she might wear to remember her mother, though the idea of getting a tattoo, in that broad scheme did cross her mind more than once before this particular meeting ever came to pass.

Pulling her mind away from the thoughts that gave her such a fear of men she tried to refocus on the positive things about the gorgeous woman before her. Narcisa had been very friendly to Vixen, and downright helpful. Perhaps a little eccentric but they were in a mental hospital, that was litterally nothing, considering what could be happening right now. It was a lot easier to focus on the positives when Narcisa turned to face Vixen. The lesbian girl's eyes surveyed the woman's body, even as sorrow crept in... That was it, Narcisa must have been heterosexual... Maybe bi... It was starting to seem less and less likely that Vixen would get anything sexual from this... And she wanted that desperately.

It seemed like Vixen was grasping at straws, and she was. She had heard the tattooed object of her desires compliment her skin, hadn't she? There was a chance after all then. With a light smile she just blushed lightly at the compliment, not acknowledging it verbally.

It was time. Now fully dressed Vixen nodded in false gratitude. “Thanks... Perfume would be great.” she said, her nerves not showing. She took a couple of steps forward and planned to take another couple before she would allow herself to prat fall, but no, gravity and a wet floor got the best of her. She tried to twist to catch herself against a shower cubical but that only made matters worse.

Vixen was out for just a few moments, but when she came too she was still laying on the cold floor, elbow dislocated, ankle broken, and her head aching, as it had bounced off the door of the cubical. Dazed and confused, the redhead looked up at Narcisa.
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