Sucking Candied Goo Out Of A Tube, Azazel Stared From Behind His Sunglasses. Even Though The Sun Had

Smoking, Azazel pulled his cigarette from his mouth, glancing out toward the drive-in as something started to happen, he scrunched his nose, “Well, things could be worse… I guess.” He muttered with a stream of smoke drifting out from between his lips, with little enthusiasm in his voice. After a moment, he blew out the rest of the smoke trapped in his lungs, turning away. Then dropped the cigarette, flicking it toward the ground, staring down at it as he stomped on it. Just at relatively the same moment, someone bumped into him, making him stumble a bit. The next moment, gaining his balance once more, he turned to face who it was as they spoke.

Staring at their hair a moment, then looked to her face, “I'm fine--” Though, he stopped himself from saying more as she spoke on, “Well, if you're any good at Frogger, the streets might be one of the safer places.” He suggests. Before waving out his left arm, staring after her from behind his sunglasses. Then turned his head, looking over at the masked men, and their dogs. No extreme reaction on his face or in his actions to what was going on at the drive-in, because he really couldn't be bothered to care much about it, it had nothing to do with him, “You first?” He offered, not really sounding like he was in any rush to get out of there. Perhaps he was just being too confident.

( weekend of horrors, april 21st, shortly after 8:00 pm ) @boneyardstarters

Cassandra couldn't have devised a better excuse to wander the strip freely if she tried, beyond thrilled for the evening crowds to get lost in during her clandestine evenings out that weekend. But even despite the comfort she found in the surging throngs of people spilling out of fluorescent establishments, she still donned her usual disguise, the blonde wig firmly in place, lest she run into any of her family's associates during the festivities. The last thing she needed was any of her father's lackies reporting back on her whereabouts and movements, which would no doubt prompt a barrage of questions she would rather not answer. So you can wander around Vegas at all hours, but you can't be bothered to leave your apartment during the day? Instead, she opted for anonymity, anything to find some answers. But it seemed that she had underestimated the reach of the Weiss family. Her eyes catching on the commotion brewing over at the drive-in across the street, of vaguely familiar figures clad in dark clothes and masks (accompanied by dogs that would surely pick up her scent), Cassie swiftly turned on her heel towards the opposite direction. But not before she collided with an unsuspecting person on the sidewalk. "Shit, are you okay?" she blurted, shooting a paranoid glance over her shoulder towards the masked guards, hoping to get out of the area as soon as possible. "We should probably get out of the street, yeah?" Anything to keep from being recognized.

Vampires burn up in the light of the Sun. Not any other Suns, just the one.

NASA scientists theorize this is because vampires committed an affront towards the Sun many eons ago, and the reason we haven't encountered extraterrestrial life is because they're all vampires.

“Some people aren’t loyal to you, they are loyal to their need of you. Once their needs change, so does their loyalty.”

— Unknown

Having not been asleep for long, if much at all, the moment had passed him by with the voices nearby. Moving to sit up on the bench, Azazel leans back against it, sliding down more to get a little more comfortable. Yawning then, he brought a hand up before moving to stretch out a bit, raising his arms over his head and holding them as he stretched his spine a little. Then, dropping his arms back to his sides, he lifted his left hand to unhook his sunglasses from his shirt, which hung by one of the temples at the hinge. He places them on his face, covering his eyes, and turned his head toward Willow, then the child they were sitting next to, for a moment. Before looking again back to Willow, a grin formed over his lips, “Wasn't much of one, to be honest.” He replied, the grin gone in a second, before he looked away again.

At Willows' further comment, he nodded, not saying anything for a long moment before replying with a, “Yeah, but I'm not in those places, I'm here. Shopping, I guess.” Moving to grab the backpack he brought with him, he brought it closer to him, looking around the crowds of people that continued to flow through the afternoon from booth to booth. An uneasy feeling washing over him, his skin began to feel a little prickly, turning his head, he faced Willow once more, “Having a prosperous day shopping? Enjoying the spooky event?” He asked, again looking between the two who sat near him, before looking away again. He could have sworn someone was watching him. Somewhere.

what more could a socialite ask for? the usual glitz of las vegas was replaced by something darker, stranger, and entirely more theatrical. the streets shimmered with a strange kind of magic, part carnival, part nightmare; costumed strangers mingling in the crowd, lines growing at the vendor booths as people were eager to get their hands on spooky sweets or odd little treasures. and while willow loved the noise and the novelty, nothing compared to meadow’s joy. sweet, wide-eyed meadow, practically vibrating with excitement as she looked upon the chaos with the kind of wonder only children possessed. her laughter bubbled up every time a monster waved at her, or someone dressed in a tacky vampire costume jumped out at someone else; let the ghouls and goblins roam — so long as meadow was enchanted, it was perfect. letting go of the little girl’s hand as she hopped up onto the bench to eat her spider candies, willow tucked a few loose strands of pink behind her ear, not concerned with the other who’d taken up the empty space beside them, until— “are they sleeping?” meadow asked. “hm. looks like it,” willow answered. oh! not anymore, it seemed. “don’t mind us, we’re just crashing your snoozefest a little,” she quirked a brow at the other, more curious than anything else. “there are better places to sleep, y’know.”

Hearing the little voice, Azazel paused in his stride, turning his head, he looked down, cold brown eyes staring down intensely at the small child as she spoke up to him, wondering why she was out here at a place like this, alone. Instantly, that coldness melted as he was reminded of his own son, of similar age, he supposed, to this little girl. He glances away then, playfully, “Oh I just might!” Expressively, he brought a hand to his chin, his index, and thumb forming into a check mark-like form under it, “Well Marceline, as an artist myself, how could I say 'no' to such a polite request?” Bringing his free, left hand, to his hip, he moved his right hand from his face, only to stop playing the moment Lyonet came stumbling out.

His coldness returned as the girl's mother came out, “It was nothing. She wasn't bothering me.” He replied to the girl's mother, leaning his hip more into his left hand, slouching slightly as he huffed out a slightly amused breath as Lyonet called the little girl a custodian, “Oh.” Azazel mumbled. After Lyonet told him it was just a joke, he quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn't tell.” He remarked with the smallest trace of a sarcastic tone in his voice. Azazel turned his head away, staring elsewhere for the moment as the other went on, “Alright, then, what can you help me with while you're stuck in business limbo?” He asked before looking back to Lyonet once again, before pausing to think for a moment, “Not really much for community service, actually.”

But, letting out a breath, he realized he needed to distract himself, anyway. Staring at Lyonet, he knocked his head toward her, prompting her a bit with a, “What kind of stuff are you guys still needing help with?”

@boneyardstarters lyonet + ??? : april 10, skratch records @ mid-morning cap : ∞

mix-ups with mars' school schedule typically didn't result in this kind of catastrophe. alas, there lyonet was, harboring her seven year old on the front steps of her workplace, all because she had neglected to remember it was a fucking teacher work day. she had resumed her pesky habit of inhaling snow every weekend, and prior to that she was relatively adept at arranging comfortable boarding for her daughter. however, that was before she swore reina to secrecy upon her relapse being unveiled and very callously reminded the kitchen witch exactly how fortunate she was to be entrusted with mars' care: 'at least i still have custody of my kid' may or may not have been uttered; which, of course, was enough guilt that would stick with reina for the remainder of her natural life. digressing, it was far too late in the day for lyonet to unload mars unto her older sister, so, the little girl was now a temporary employee of skratch records. at least, the bare bones of it. while lyonet idled inside and hid from the major renovations, mars manned the front curb. it didn't occur to lyonet that her very outspoken child would attempt contact with a wandering stranger until she heard her daughter's squeaky little voice say: hi, i'm marceline! but everyone calls me mars, or marcie, or mar. we're not open yet. do you want to help paint? quickly, lyonet stumbled off the step stool she was on while clumsily painting and scrambled out front, converse skidding on the concrete. "alright, miss mars," she cleared her throat loudly as she plucked her daughter up off the ground. "sorry about that. she's just our custodian," she joked halfheartedly. "that was a joke. kind of. can we help ya with something? we're, uh, not quite off the ground yet, but... we've got fresh lemonade if you wanna help out."

i DARE you to call me a freak. that's my preferred prefix, loser. i am a freakish little beast, with horrid claws and spiraling teeth. i am also. cooler than you

TWIN PEAKS | 1.06