Just -Live- & .Breathe. *Try* Not to ::Die:: Again

[.:a.i.r.u:.]

marana_&cyra

“Back! I want to go back!” Cyra’s pleads continued down the street as they left the airport. She was being dragged by Marana. Their venture to Lockdown City is only to roam around, since Mother had to check up on a few things at her lab here. Marana attempted to console her twin, but its affect was dismal. She thrashed in her sister’s arms, and Marana needed to calm her soon—there was no telling when or even if her intoxication would start up and ultimately endanger everyone around.

On the way to Theranse, Cyra was little better off than how she was now. Although there were not many on the flight, since the Myst hindered much of business even though one would think the opposite, she had cause enough of an uproar that the obviously underpaid and “had something better to do” flight attendant came and bequested of her to remain calm and issue only silence—constantly and rather irritatingly. This, in all and any matter, worked miserably. If it was not for Marana around to calm her twin, the young femme would most likely have tasted the wrath of Cyra’s concealed beast within.

Marana pulled Cyra close in a fond and soothing embrace, and loosened enough to allow them to continue trekking down the sidewalk, following their mother. She rested her cheek on Cyra’s head, which was covered by a white, intricately kitted toboggan that effectively veiled her cat ears. Cyra, in turn, lie her strained head on her twin’s shoulder, able to do so because of her firm but comforting hold that required her to hunch over. Cyra’s fits immediately began to cease, and, as usual, she was reduced to a cascade of tears.

phoebe

Phoebe abruptly halted her advance, and spun on a heel to peer at her daughters. Cyra’s stopped, good, she praised inwardly, but refrained from saying such allowed. Voicing a phrase like that, no matter how mere of one, would only make her more distant from her beloved twins. They’re all I have, Phoebe concluded in her mind, a sentence that she repeated over and over as an explanation to everything she does, I don’t want to lose them.

She looked her daughters over, studying their appearance. Cyra always adorned the most complicated but nonetheless appealing attire. A toboggan; simple black eyeliner, the slightest hint of blue brushed her eyelids, and clear gloss that resided on her lips consisted of her make-up; and long gorgeous stainless steel and sapphire earrings that dangled only half an inch above her shoulder was all laden her head. She wore a navy pinstriped jacket reminiscent to a school coat, one of the three likewise color buttons was fastened, with sleeves cropped two inches below the elbow, a breast-pocket with a meaningless emblem, and several buttons pinned to her collar. Under this was slightly darker blue coarse collared-shirt, a red tie that hung from her neck, and a black leather belt that a pewter chain with a gold hue attached to and hung from. She wore a pleated plaid skirt with a red, blue, and gold scheme and smooth black leggings. Shiny, black leathered army boots was what pulled the entire thing together, effectively giving her a punk-ish, military girl air. If only it was not for the stream of tears would such a façade be possible to pull off.

Marana, on the other hand, had acquired a rather similar yet friendlier and tame aura from her choice of outfit, appealingly balancing her twin out. So little make-up was used that it seemed Marana adorned none at all, but she in fact chose to use a calm rose gloss and muted brown eye shadow and a very dismal application of eyeliner. A dull green collared-, button-up shirt that was a size or two too big was what dominated her upper-half. Various patches were dotted on the shirt, splashing the clothing with a color and making the shirt more interesting. The long sleeves had been rolled up to rest just above her elbow and the shirt was left open and unbuttoned with exception of the last five or six. Due to the open shirt over it, a royal purple V-neck could be seen. Simple deep blue denim skinny jeans, a sable belt, and completely ebony, slick, gossamer leather Hi-Tops was what was left of her attire.

Phoebe mentally smiled, since such an action was nigh impossible physically.

“Marana, Cyra, watch for yourselves for an hour or so—I’ll be back soon.” Phoebe ascertained, then spun around once more and began to walk away.

marana_&cyra

Marana made no sign that she understood her mother’s order, not even the slightest nod. But with the stare between the two, such was assured and known. She watched her mother walk away from she and Cyra, then reverted her attention back to her sniffling twin. Cyra had calmed down, and was at a state of awareness, her eyes darting about by even the most miniscule of movements. Her stance had altered now. From Marana’s shoulder she had moved to simply linking her arm with Marana’s, although still cautiously clinging close.

Marana let a small breath of air to let out her frustration over Mother’s decision to leave the two. She looked up to the buildings that lined the street, the nearest one that still seemed alive and not too much in the dumps was named “The Knife and Skillet.” Probably need to get off the streets.., Marana thought with tinge of distaste. Such was not entirely true, since there seemed to be no one about since was still considerably early in the morning. Six thirty, I think… Marana glanced to Cyra and gave her a warm smile before averting attention back to the pub and leading Cyra into it. The two were eighteen, but they had not intended on buying a drink anyway so it should not matter. They immediately spotted a desirable table—one that was distant from the door, while still off in the corner and away from where most of the soon-to-come ruckus would occur.

“Cyra, are you O.K.?” Marana asked in a hushed tone.

“Y-Yeah, I guess..,” she responded in a weak voice.

The two said no more, but remained in the comfortable presence of each other. Although Marana hoped that maybe someone friendly could possibly come along, but she expected nothing less that no one or quite possibly the complete opposite a welcoming, conversational stranger. Marana shook her head of such thoughts, since thinking of the worst could only result in the worst, this she knew from years of experience and coping with such happenings. Then again, their animalistic features were very much noticeable—with exception of Cyra's ears and Marana's legs—thus making them likely less approachable.

---

As for teh twins' outfits, meh pretty much just used THIS pic as reference. Added that just in case the image wasn't clear... >.>

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[fαllεη •]

OLiVER TWiST

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BONES SHATTER, FALL APART AND HIT THE FLOOR[/center]

He didn't know how it'd happened, to be honest.
Oliver had walked all the way to the bloody Lockdown City, only to find that the rumours had been true. The city was closed as tight as a friggin' bear trap around the ankle of humanity. There was nothing sanitary outside the city: it was a massive slum out there, and the city was doing nothing about it. Their paranoia had gained them more than a few enemies on the outside --he'd spent much of his time with equally furious, equally hot-headed young adults, with plans of violence and anarchy dancing behind their eyes. But mass levels of humanity had never done much for him, and it hadn't taken long before he had left the camp for greener, less disease-ridden pastures. The massive concrete wall was truly a feat of engineering; there was no way you were getting through the dome without some kind of massive detonation device... So Oliver had gone the hard way. Through the sewers.

Any more than that, he didn't want to remember.

So, now he was taking advantage of being a good five years above the legal drinking age, and was looking to bury whatever it was that he'd done to get in here under a hang-over the like of which no human being had ever seen before.
He was utterly filthy, having not showered since the last major rain that had swept him into the Half-way Hut, in which he had been offered water by one Josephine... god, his memory really was shot. He wasn't even sure of her first name any more --but that was a start. He wanted to forget everything that had happened before he came to this god-damned city, and then he wanted to sleep. In a gutter if he had to.

The streets were fairly clear of the lower-class citizens, but also strangely vacant of the sort of establishment that Oliver had in mind. No mature entertainment -none that was obvious from the street, anyway, though even a gorgeous woman wouldn't be the same as a glass of hard liquor- and no bars. Although... His ears almost pricked. Was that the sound of alcohol pouring into a glass...? The answering 'affirmative' was all that was needed: a slow grin began to spread across his face. but the smile came with the feeling of something cracking off his skin. 'Hell's bells.'
A quick look in the nearest shattered window confirmed his suspicions. Although the face looking back at him appeared to have eight eyes and far too many teeth, his tattoos were virtually invisible, and his hair was an utter mess of muck. He sighed. There was no way in hell that any bar owner, no matter of how little repute, was going to let him in with a face like that. The last of his water would have to be sacrificed for the good of a harder liquid.

Five minutes later, still stinking to high heaven but with soaking, clean hair and a face showing its true purple-and-blue inked colours, Oliver Twist pushed open the door of The Knife and Skillet and headed straight for the brightly-lit bar.
"Barkeep," he tried, but his voice refused to obey. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Anyone running this joint?"

IF IT DOESN'T THRILL YOU IT DOESN'T MATTER ANY MORE

... It took me far too long to respond to that D: I am sorry!

[.:a.i.r.u:.]

marana_&cyra

“Ugh, this is booooring, sis,” Cyra whined after several minutes of simply sitting in a chair that was, as she would describe as, a literal pain in the tail. Since the backed stool left her fluffy tail awkwardly hanging out, and for that she was grateful she had her back to the wall.

But then her attention was redirected to the door entry as she heard it swing open. And her breathing hitched, and her heart nearly leapt from her chest. As she watched Oliver approach the bar counter, a delighted grin manifested on her visage. Marana, startled by Cyra’s sudden change of mood, she curiously—and nervously—looked to where her twin’s sights were set on. Having to turn in her seat, she rested her arm on the chair’s back, and… she couldn’t believe it.

That would be just my luck… Marana thought with a tired sigh. More drama.

”Cyra, don’t—Cyra!” she began to whisper, but her speech raising after her sister jumped from her seat and started to scurry away. Marana hurried off her chair and reached for Cyra’s upper arm to stop her, though, regretfully, missed. It was all Marana could do now to watch her younger sibling rush to her inevitable heartbreak.

”Oliver!” Cyra cheerfully called as she made her way to the front. She adjusted her toboggan as she felt it begin slip. ”Hey! What’s up? ‘Haven’t seen you since you left Lithista!” Cyra leaned forward and set her crossed arms on the bar surface, giving her a better view of the face that filled her artificial delusion of utopia.


I’m not sure who I feel sorrier for right now.., Marana’s train of thought began, while she made her way to Cyra’s side. Cyra’s obliviousness makes her so vulnerable… though Oliver hasn’t exactly tried to shoot her down from her dreams, either… Despite her adversity to Cyra’s desire to confront Oliver, Marana put on a convincing smile and hoped for the best.

---

Mah, don’t worry ‘bout it! ^w^;; Whoa, Marana's colour is kinda hard to read... lol...

Grrr! Dish took waaay to long(to meh, at least, lol)!!!!

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