` so give me something to believe_, [ open ]

[Lucas Noah Fischer]

BUT THE BEAST WAS ALWAYS HERE WATCHING
WITHOUT EYES BECAUSE THE BEAST IS JUST MY
FEAR THAT I AM JUST NOTHING NOW IT'S JUST
WHAT I'VE BECOME WHAT AM I WAITING FOR ,

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The clink of glasses brought Lucas back from his reverie. He'd been spontaneously daydreaming about life in general which was strange seeing as he wasn't an altogether philosophical or even sentimental person. The past years had changed him from a weak, emotional child into a much tougher, more badass young man--or at least he liked to think so. He wasn't so sure if this was more of a blessing than a curse. At the moment Lucas Noah Fischer was perched idly on a barstool swirling around the contents of some unknown liquor in a shot glass. The striking taste still lingered on his tongue and caused him to lick his chapped lips, aching for more. Alas; getting drunk wasn't the key point of this visit to the Sienne. Nor was picking up a hot date or two for later on in the evening (but he could get a little distracted now and then). The target, so to speak was a man. This man had no name or life beyond the bar as far as Mr. Fischer was concerned, it was all about a deal, and that deal all depended on the target fulfilling a promise. Although most were scared off by Lucas' haunting looks and devastatingly unworried brow, he proved to be an agreeable guy, and a very tough businessman. So he wouldn't be too concerned if the guy failed to show. It was almost expected, and there were many other fish in the sea. Especially when the fish were hooked on heroin--almost like hooked on phonics minus the most of alphabet (many could only speak broken English, thankfully Lucas was fluent in a few other languages).

A thoroughly modern clock was ticking away (silently, of course, it was only stylish) just above his head. It's silver hands were pointing to numbers that were quite far away from the expected time. Lucas shifted slightly and huskily requested, "Another... whatever this is. Thanks..." The proffered drink was soon handed back and he, with all the grace of a respectable New Jerseyite (or is it Jerseyan?) downed it upon contact. You see, Mr. Fischer worked the "graveyard shift" so to speak. The night sky and everything under it was his backyard. However he was just a dog (a terrier, if you will) chained to a fence post in the aforementioned yard. Les Faucons de la nuit cared little for his well being, he did their busy work and slaved away at it. Had anyone else been involved in his work, a failure would be taken quite literally with a grain of salt. As he was constantly reminded, he, Lucas Fischer of New Jersey, was lucky to be alive. He'd take the work they gave him and grin and bear it (grin meaning anything from a scowl to an actual, full out 'i love the world' grin). So Lucas would down some booze or good, hard liquor--it loosened his jaw muscles, made it much easier to smile.

Slowly, as if the action itself required thought, Noah ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. It seemed that now he did this increasingly--as if life were some riddle or insolvable puzzle. It made him feel elderly and feeble, senile even. Which, when you take into account his young age, was only slightly strange. Maybe if the average person could spy into his mind, they might understand if even only partly. Getting up in the morning took more strength as the days piled up. He would pull himself out of bed and stare into the half cracked mirror and swear that he'd gained a few pounds over the past year. He'd go to the grocery store (not really a grocery store, more like asian market the size of a bathroom) down the street and get the daily necessities. By then the image reflecting back at him through the mirror would seem especially gaunt, thin, tired. As if he'd lost weight drastically--almost in the blink of an eye. Then again, the term 'a blink of an eye' wasn't exact enough for Lucas' taste. It was more like suddenly. Suddenly he'd glance in the mirror and see a new man. Not a better man, but a different one. Ever since the day he'd missed his flight back to the U.S., he--Lucas Noah Fischer of Newark, New Jersey changed. At first they were subtle, infinitesimal changes in behavior and mood. So he didn't notice. Not until the blood came off of his hands. It was carried away by the warm water--no soap, down the drain, to nowhere.

A smooth, curved clear surface of cool glass. That was what the bottom of his glass looked like. A sight he'd viewed countless times that night. Breath that seemed forced passed through his lips and he sank a little, shoulders stooped like a hunched old man. It made him think of Heidi for some reason, the movie. More specifically it made him think of the old grandfather who was pretty grumpy for the body of the movie, up until the very end where he has a sudden realization that herding goats and scaring young children aren't more important than love and Shirley Temple. Maybe Lucas was just really, really old fashioned. He ordered another shot and imagined himself with a white beard. It didn't look so bad, he could make it work.

this lovely post has nine one six words tagged for no one as of yet noah is wearing suit and tie, too lazy to make a link at midnight-ish, the bar sienne

[/b]. this template was created by bee(: and i just want to say i switch off constantly from: lucas to mr. fischer to mr. lucas noah fischer to lucas noah fischer, to noah... maybe even fischer. haha sorry :].
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[Alexa Hansen]

DANCE WITH ME BELOW CRYSTAL KNIVES, CHANDELIERS ABLAZE
we'll dance in fear of our own lives that our eyes contain
BEHIND THESE MASKS WE RENEGADE AGAINST THE SOUND
we'll let our voices slowly fade and ring out.

All it took was a simple card flash, and a slightly innocent smile that Alexa could pull off so easily. Maybe even too effortlessly. She had practically skipped to one of the elevated barstools, which was actually something nearly idealistic to imagine. She wasn’t much of a vivacious person, but prior to even arriving at Sienne’s she had downed as many drinks as manageable. Her eyebrows furrowed as her mind took a sudden turn, blurring for a mere second before returning to its previous state. She grasped the counter in front of her, a strange smirk plastered to her face. It wasn’t that difficult to shake off the daze, being all too familiar with it. Her eyes were fixated to the bar, patiently waiting for any more signs of lethargy. It seemed like hours she sat there staring blankly at nothing. Though finally a raucous and again recognizable voice immediately pulled her from thought. “Can I get you something?” There was the customary grin across his impudent face, and his normal features-just as callous as always- as he voiced the obvious question. Well of course she wanted a drink. She might’ve already been over her limit, but he surely didn’t seem to be aware of it. Alexa had an eccentric way to showing her drunkenness. Even though the stupidity irked her she replied back, a smile forming across her face. “Bandana Shooter.” Dr pepper and vodka. It couldn’t get any better.

It didn’t take long before the shot was placed in front of her. Her fingers found their way around the glass before bringing it to her lips. She let the texture sit against her mouth for a moment before she tilted it back. The liquid that consumed her mouth and languidly moved down her throat was somewhat comforting, alcohol always had her at ease. Placing her elbows against the surface of the bar she barried her face into her hands, as if trying to block out the rest of the room. For a moment it was as if all the voices around her became unbearable, as they all fused to one. She could still hear the conversations from all over the club, yet she couldn’t understand a single word. They all seemed to mold together; as if just speaking illiterate nonsense. It was utterly frustrating to try and pay any more attention, and she soon found herself tugging her hands anxiously through her auburn waves. Almost as if to distract herself from the irritation. However it didn’t work too well, and so she pulled her face from their resting place, desperately searching for anything else to keep her busy.

In her haste her mind returned to its reflections, trying to justify what had even brought her here. All she could recall was that she had been sitting alone in her home; feeling desolate. It was a horrid feeling, one she loathed and absolutely detested. It had been then that she tried to dull her mind with as much alcohol as she could possibly consume. Which had lead to her arriving here. What better way to get your mind off of something then deafening music, piercing voices and a whole lot of drinks? Of course her plan didn’t exactly work as expected.

It was then she noticed the man, sitting a few vacant seats away. She observed him for a moment, watching to see if he was accompanied by anyone, but none, besides the bartender made any contact. A sigh slipped passed her lips and before she could give it another thought she jumped from her seat and made herself comfy in the one apace with his. An amorous smile formed across her face as she spoke to him. “You here alone?” She questioned, inquiringly. Her fervent tone was differed from what she was normal to. It wasn’t often she socialized, hell it was rare for her to even try to talk to others. First of all, she was never really in the mood, and to be honest she was absolutely awful at it. She curved in her seat, ignoring the fact that her charcoal jeans clung even tighter to her lower half. Her attire also included a corset like top, which was a mixture of gray shades and was a small contrast against her pale skin. They were clothes that had once been buried deep into the riotous catastrophe that was her closet, things that she probably would have never worn out unless she was drunk as hell. Of course if she wasn’t she probably wouldn’t even be out. Alex placed her hands in her lap as he teeth gently bit into her lower lip; a small nervous habit of hers. Her mind was going off in curiosity, wondering how bad it would do her to have a few more drinks. And the tempting, strident voice in her mind was currently surmounting her morals.

crystal chandeliers hang, gently swaying with our bodies.

lyric credits to the absolutely amazing eyes set to kill.
notes : hope you dont mind if i jump in (:
words : .