Thread: My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke

A strange sensation tingled through Maitreya's body as she left the house, agreements over next year's meet having been sworn to, and pleasantries exchanged. Her ploy had worked perfectly - better than even she could have hoped - though so much so that she almost felt bad for the woman she'd caused to storm out of the house and away from her friends. The tingling had begun when she'd learned of Brooke's departure, right at the confirmation of the fire she'd gleaned burning within the woman's bruised heart, and which had immediately attracted her to her. Now, with the crisp late autumnal air upon her cheeks and her silks stuffed into a slightly over-sized brown leather purse, that tingling rose again in the form of excited anticipation. She knew Brooke's likely whereabouts, and she knew JJ's . In her black, knitted turtleneck sweater and blue jeans - the former clinging tightly to the sultry curves of her upper body - she looked entirely a different woman from she who had sat behind table and cards, mystique and foreign allure, and given the reaction she'd drawn from Brooklyn that could only be a good thing. She'd need a new act if she were to find her at the bar, something more compassionate and sympathetic. As much as Treya loved to play the actress, she also delighted in scripting and directing the plays of others, and tragedy was her forte. Of her many talents, dealing with the North American chill was not one of the more outstanding she tugged her black leather jacket more tightly to her figure and strode on towards the bar, hips swaying delectably as she walked. Had she pushed her too far? Her own gifts sometimes surprised her, and she wondered how much of a task she had set for herself this time. No matter Maitreya was as confident in her own abilities as she was disposed to meet a challenge, and boy was she looking forward to seeing Brooklyn again. She had evidently whipped up quite the tempest in the young woman, and eagerly anticipated seeing how big a storm she had created. Would it be violent and centrifugal, or centripetal and cannibalistic? Oh, such excitement! A brisk breeze caught her dark, voluminous waves and they fluttered behind her before settling down again, and a feverish grin spread across her lips. Oh, Brooklyn... how beautiful you are when you are angry. How divine you must look when you are sad. The thought of those freckled cheeks streaked with a single tear was almost painful in its beauty, as was all good tragedy. There were times when Maitreya's heart twisted in the face of such elegant calamity, but she could not change the fate which awaited us all, and in the end one had to learn to love it. At the crossroad of Kennedy and Mount she turned, glanced left and right and crossed the street, her handbag rocking gently against her hip with every step. Up ahead, fluffy rivulets of smoke drew a line between the two neon J 's above the entrance to the bar and a trio of patrons beneath the sign, before dispersing into the night air. Treya paid the smokers no heed when she reached the doorway, passing them as though they were little more than bland ornaments and stepping inside. Within, the warm air caressed her chilly cheeks and immediately her eyes scanned the set for her co-star. It didn't take long for her to spot the gloomy figure hunched over the bar, one hand clasping a rock glass. Brooklyn? Oh, I'm so glad I found you, she spoke when she approached, appearing at Brooke's left shoulder from out of the dim light of the bar's interior. Her voice was all honey and worry, a look of genuine concern upon her graceful features. I felt so bad when I heard you'd left I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I thought you wanted it quick and to the point. I... She sighed heavily, desperately. Her eyes moved and caught her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and for a brief moment she imagined herself elegantly posed with the back of her hand pressed to her forehead in a dramatic gesture of hopelessness at the distress she'd caused this beautiful woman, though through her eyes she saw that it was she who was distressed. She hadn't meant to stir such anguish in the other's emotions, she told herself. I'm sorry. Can I... buy you a drink? She shrugged, as if to emphasise the guilt she felt, and her deep, brown eyes gazed intently into Brooklyn's, pleading for her forgiveness.