|
|
Post by WREN on Jul 30, 2012 16:06:52 GMT -5
CAMOUFLAGE
the three of you are at he beach bar. you can either be having a casual drink, already be wasted, or not even drinking at all. a commotion on one dark side of the dance floor grabs your attention where an underage teenage girl has passed out with alcohol poison. somebody has yet to call the ambulance or to alert officials. actually, no one has really noticed this girl slumped in a ball on the floor. you can post how your character feels, how your character reacts, what your characters would do, but the three of you must interact in this conversation. enjoy your mystery event! order of posting: wylee ferreira (havoc), dominic holt (wren), valentina free (lauren).
|
|
|
|
Post by wylee damon ferreria on Jul 31, 2012 11:13:17 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:500px; height:400px;]
Imma buy you a drink, imma take you home with me, i got money in the bank, shawty what you think about that~
To say Wylee was ever drinking alone, wasn't true. He may have come to the beach bar by himself but with how he come smooth talk nearly anyone he wanted, it never stayed that way for long. Of course the night had started like another night at the bar. Drinks turned into shot, and those turn into body shots with a lovely little bartender. And of course all of that ended with the surfer in over his head, a very dizzy and drunk head. He knew things were getting slurred and sloshed together, but he was still at the point were he was sober enough to realize that he probably shouldn't drink anymore or even consider getting behind the wheel of his car. After reluctantly declining a few more bottles, Wylee moved to step away from the bar, reaching a steady arm against the edge of the counter to stop himself from falling over already. Taking a shaky breath to seemingly relax his already too loose muscles, he stepped again, though his focus really wasn't on what direction he was going.
About four or five steps later, because come on who was really counting, gravity decided to work against him as he tripped over something on the floor, though honestly in his state it could have been his own foot. If he wasn't so discombobulated he could have caught himself, instead he found himself face down on the ground half laying over what he tripped on. Shudders. The first thing he could remember were shudders, but they weren't from him. Rolling off to the side with a lazy groan, the surfer finally saw what had been on the floor. She was small, or many it was just the fact that she had curled into the tightest ball that made her appear so petite. "Senhorra..." coming from his lips, the slur made the word nearly sing-song. Getting up enough balance, he crouched next to her, softly trying to get her joints to unfold. As his dulled blue eyes drew over her face, they went wide with faint shock. She was young, much younger then he tried to go for. Had to under eighteen. And she wasn't moving, even when he'd touched her to roll her over.
Shock was helping for the drunk issue by this point, but it wasn't completely washing it out of his system. Instead it seemed to mix and create a diluted form of panic. Under his alcoholic smelling breath, he exhaled "Merda." The panic was limiting more then the alcohol. Thinking was nearly impossible but he did the one thing that he knew would either calm his nerves or set him off completely. Lifting a shaky hand, he hovered it as best he could over her mouth, "Por favor, estar vivo. Please be breathing.". Nothing. Then under her nose. So shallow that Wylee nearly mistook it as nothing. So she was alive, barely, that was something. But damn it a drunken Brazilian shouldn't be alone when crouching next to a certainly suffering young lady. Standing, but not moving away from the teen on the ground, Wylee braced himself against the wall and tried to make eye contact with anyone else at the bar that wasn't too involved in their drink to come help.
tagged wren/dom
and lauren/val
|
[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table] |
|
