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A/N: sorry if this is a bit... rambly? I was trying to convey Tarot's conflicting senses of inebriation and fear... it came off making her stupid. Ahem. Onto the post...?
LMAO. Having fun with the swimsuit season, is he? Tarot cackled to herself, wincing as the sound turned into a lung-wracking cough. Urrgh. Ice cube down the esophogus. Ew, ew, ew. She hated that. Waiting for the stupid thing to melt and then it slid down like... like... a slimy thing.
Either way, Tarot murmured, the cheer suddenly draining from her voice. Even if you're on the up and up, I'd be careful. I saw an owl when I got out of bed this morning, and we all know what that means.
There was something stirring in the air. She wasn't sure, yet, but it probably wasn't going to be good. Most fae were blessed- gifted with good luck and beauty and a sense of splendor. To be quite frank, Tarot fucking hated them. Glittering personalites always made her want to punch someone. As far as things went, Tarot was considered to be cursed. Sure, she was pretty but... nothing ever. Ever. Went right for her.
Point in case: the fact that she had quite literally had her throat ripped out by her last boyfriend. Things like that NEVER happened to any other fairies she knew. Well, okay, picky picky. She was only half-fairy. Er, well, used to be. Now she was half fairy half vampire. Om nom nom.
God, she needed another drink. Where was I? Yeah.
But seriously, though, Tarot shifted in her chair. Some shit is going to go down tonight. I don't know what. But I know that it'll be... be... bad. Prolly.
Or maybe I'm just drunk. Ehh. No. Usually drunken paranoia has a lot more screaming. She huffed, softly. She did not want to be nom'd. She would much prefer to do the nomming.
She plucked the salt table off the bar and passed it to Alicia. Keep this. YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU NEED SALT.
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