Bluer Eyes and The Fall Season {LUCIFER/DIP}

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Dip, Aug 3, 2014.

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  1. It was sometime around midnight when the bike began to spit and sputter to a stop. The fiery of the red-head wasn't anything compared to the freezing night. It would be an understatement to say that she wasn't under-dressed, and it was over-stated to the point of no return that she wasn't responsible for the littlest things-- including her clothing.

    Solomon threw her helmet on the pavement and kicked at her motorcycle loudly. It fell with a metallic clank, and rolled slightly on the walkway. She didn't expect something like this from her bike, it was older than her, for example. It was a modified Indian motorbike, with Frankenstein parts and others of the sort. She loves that bike like a baby, but even babies need a beating or two.

    She looked up at the sky, and sighed. Well, atleast she was at her location in one piece. She wished she could say the same for her baby. She could fix her bike in the morning, so she wasn't worried. But for now, it was a matter of finding out if he was awake yet, or not.

    Solomon was a casual
    cruiser. She didn't go along with a gang, and she didn't ride for sport. She used it to get around, and get out, mostly. It was her trusty getaway vehicle, and sometimes, her bed. Solomon took her bike and tied it up against a bike rack, and quickly stomped up the stairs.

    Her friend lived in a good
    little apartment a few hours away, and she tried to see him as much as she can. Solomon had been their friend for years, ever since they were in middle school together, and he had just moved. She stuck up for them, and they did the same. Solomon finally got up to the floor, and checked her watch. It was a little later than she expected. She sighed. It looked to her like the ride ran longer than she wanted it to. It was about three in the morning, to be fact. She was late, and her friend was probably asleep.

    Solomon knocked loudly on the door, and pushed it open. She had a large smile on her
    freckled face and she pushed back her red hair. "Wakey-wakey, Ghost!" She called inside, walking in like she owned the place. And she did, partly. She couch surfed there and back and there again, and it was like a second home to her.
  2. Up on the third floor Aleksandr was asleep at his desk. He had been working on a few commission pieces that required a lot of time and concentration. So far the necklace was half way there and only needed some accent colors and the clipping. It was an expensive piece but it was quality work and he made sure of it. Aleksandr tried staying awake but the red headed princess was late and so thought she wasn't coming over. Well that was until he heard a loud mechanical clank and the scratching sounds that came with it.

    With a jolt he woke up and cursed in thick accent. It was always when he was the sleepiest did his accent become thick but it never bothered him. He rubbed his eyes and turned on a light so he could see where he was going. His room was a giant ball of mess. If closets had tornadoes then his room was definitely hit with a few. The only time the room was ever clean was when he had laundry day. And since he could never tell what was clean and what was dirty he simply washed all of his clothes once a week.

    Before Aleksandr could figure out who it was outside loud banging was heard at his door and the sound tumblers on the door opened. He had given her a key to his place since she did couch surf quite. He always wondered why she didn't move in with someone instead of sleeping on her motorbike or on someones couch. He got up and stretched a little before actually greeting her. "Well if it isn't the red headed princess." He teased even when his accent was still a bit thick. "Why so late tonight. You ended up waking me from a good dream." He said with a chuckle.
  3. Solomon rolled her eyes and gave off a wicked grin. "Do you think I have time to sleep in? I always get up at this time. I think the question should be, 'Why so early?'" She walked in, and stripped herself of her shoes. She wore a pair of beat-up Converse, and she was really wishing she would trade them in for some boots. Her feet were callused and battered like a red-headed step-child. She claimed her spot on her throne and tossed over a pair of work pants his way.

    "I already expected you to be dressed, Alek. What's your damage? Shouldn't I get the royal treatment?" She remarked his wrinkled clothing, and the way he was crumpled over that desk like a folding chair. He was going to twist himself into a fit if she hadn't of come sooner. She grabbed a pillow from one end of the couch and stuffed it under her feat. She rested her head on the arm chair, and got comfortable. "Pull yourself away from the women's accessories, Adolf. Why 'chu work zo late? Why 'chu ruin hammar und zickle pride? Ooh, 'chu no hav hammar und zickle! 'Chu veak American! I zpit on America!"

    Solomon took pride in herself for faking such a thick accent like his. It always made Alek madder than shit when she did it, but she figured that she was in the right line of fire this time. They hadn't seen eachother in a month, and she could tell that he was more than just tired. She sat up and looked over him, and chuckled. "I'll make some coffee," Solomon said, as she walked towards the kitchen. The coffee was mostly for her, but she wouldn't say so soon.
  4. Aleksandr closed the door behind her and allowed her in. Why not? They had been friends for years and he only saw her every so often now. "I thought most Americans were lazy to begin with. So yeah I do think you have time." He said with a chuckle. Aleks sat on the chair next to the couch, which Solomon had always treated it like her bed. He didn't mind and took the work jeans and placed them somewhere else.

    "I am dressed. I wasn't gonna lay around in my boxers like I usually do." He teased. Sure his clothes were wrinkled and his back was slightly killing him but what caught him off guard was Solomon using his accent against him. "You call me veak? Have chu not seen yourself? I know babushkas with more meat on them than you." He said with a laugh. "Beyond the idea of you being so frail, how's life been treating you. It's been awhile since I've seen you." Since it had been a long month since they last saw each other he wanted to be sure she was ok. With the sound of clanking metal earlier he could tell her motorbike had made a hissy fit and refused to carry her.

    Aleks made himself comfortable in his chair by slouching a little in the chair and pressing his feet against the edge of his table. IT kept him steady and made sure he couldn't slouch any further. Solomon had looked him over and decided it was best to give him coffee. He wasn't much into coffee but he loved his vodka like any other Russian out there. "I don't need coffee. Possibly vodka but coffee I don't need." He said with a chuckle since he was more awake now than he was before. Aleks's accent didn't ladle thickly over his words this time around and so he was able to speak clear enough, at least for now.
  5. Solomon grabbed four different cups and started the coffee maker. She then went into the alcohol cabinet and pulled out many different bottles. "Fine. We can get drunk off of our asses and sober up afterwards," She smiled, pouring a mixture of them into one and another mixture into the other. "Lucky for you, I met a bartender. A few of them. A lot of th-- I talked with a lot of men and they taught me how to make good drinks." She corrected. Aleks was always worried about her-- like a big brother worries about his sister.

    Solomon strolled her freckled ass over towards the living room and handed her friend the drink. "I put the strongest shit in there just for you-- I swear, if I let some one stab you, you'd just explode with Vodka. How can you handle that stuff, man?" She asked, sitting down on the floor, with her back against the couch. She pulled her legs up to her chest, and ran a hand thought her hair. It wasn't long before she tried her own drink, and made a face. Sure, it wasn't that good, but it wasn't bad, either. She groaned, and set it to the side. "I can't get piss-drunk like you, Alek. And I'm Irish!" She joked, with a smile.
  6. The idea of being drunk off their asses was the greatest idea of the night. Aleks, like many Russians loved their vodka and being drunk meant good things. He didn't think much when he that Solomon had met a bartender. Well that was before she said a few which mad him think a little, then hearing a lot made him raise a brow at her. "Talked eh? You sure they were actual conversation with words?" Aleks sighed a bit. He couldn't help but worry about her. It's what best friends do and he couldn't help it. He would defend Solomon with his life if he had to.

    He sat up to receive his kidney killing concoction and his lips curled to a smile. "Well then I better not get stabbed at a party. People would be shit faced if I ever exploded." Aleks said with a laugh. He took a good sip of it and damn was it strong. The burn it left while going down his throat was bearable for him but he could hear his liver and kidney start to scream at him. "I've been drinking for a long time. In Russia there isn't really a drinking age, an age to buy it yourself but not to drink it." He took another sip of his drink, which wasn't bad. "Then I'll get piss drunk for you." Aleks chuckled a bit as the warmth from the alcohol was started to flush his face. He wasn't buzzed yet, maybe a bit more and he'll be there. Which wasn't long. Aleks had already guzzled down more than half of his drink. His eyes were slightly open an he was beginning to sway a little. "Your bartender friends reeeeaaaally know how to make a cocktail..." He said with a chuckle.
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