There's a vampire loitering at Maddy's. Some androgynous creature has staked out a booth and is sprawled out across one side, head tilted back against the window; he's wearing large aviator sunglasses, skinny black jeans, and a Rush t-shirt. His palette is monochromatic black, which does nothing to help the colorless pallor of his skin and roots. The florid sleeve tattoos are technicolor-bright on that canvas. He's humming to himself, drumming long fingers on the tabletop while he bops his head from side to side. His hair is all the myriad shades of bruises, a palette of blunt force trauma.
Rosalyn drifted in, lovely as a model for a disney princess. Even dressed in jeans and an old tee she seemed to pull it off with style beyond the actual quality of the clothing. She headed to the counter, ordering a plate of dessert and paying in cash before glancing around the room for the ideal place to sit. Ros glanced over the vampire with a quick up and down.
The Disney princess waltzing through the door certainly catches his attention. Squick dips her chin, eyeing her shamelessly over the edge of her aviators; their eyes are ink-black, irises a predatory shade of amber-gold. "Hey. Aurora. You should sit over here." His tone, maybe surprisingly, is the epitome of friendly; a rich, affable tenor. He does her the courtesy of pairing it with only a small smile.
She raised an eyebrow at Squick and decided to dive in. "Rosalyn," she corrected. "Aurora was a useless twit who had to be saved by the fucking fairies and Philip." She settled in across from him. "Thank you for the invitation. Who are you?"
"Oh my," Squick gasps, pale brows arching. "I'm Squick. You're Rosalyn. What kind of dessert did you get?" He cranes his neck, leaning forward to get a gander at the plate.
"Cherry cheesecake. Want a bite?" she asked dryly. "Interesting name. I assume it's self chosen."
"Oh, no thanks. I just like to watch people eat their dessert." Squick turns to face Rosalyn fully, propping his chin between both hands. "It's the sound I made when the doctor dropped me." Lashes flutter as Squick bats his eyes at her.
She smirked and took a delicate bite of the cheesecake, making a show of it. "Fine, but if you don't want to tell me truly, tell me something else."
Squick grins, relenting. "Okay, fair. It is my very own moniker, chosen all by myself. I don't know why; whenever I hear it, I feel like laughing a little. It's a weird word. I like being weird. Voila." He waves both hands. "You eat dessert like a pro. Let's see, something else...I'm a tattoo artist. Want some ink?"
"I am good at eating," she agreed with a laugh. "Lots of practice you know. I've never gotten a tattoo before, what kind do you do?"
She spreads both hands wide, smiling. "All kinds! I like to make something that reflects each person, give them something that shows who they are, who they want to be. What they want the world to see. So far, for you..." He holds up a thumb, gauging perspective. "I've discerned that is not a Sleeping Beauty tattoo." His grin widens. It's unpleasant, but affable. Somehow.
She thrust the fork through one of the cherries and waved it at him. "Quite so. If you'd suggested it, I might have had to see how close eyeballs are to cherries."
"Eyeballs are more juicy and squish more, but cherries taste better," Squick reports. "I could put a slice of cherry cheesecake on your arm. Is that your favorite dessert? Or if not, what is?"
"Know that from experience?" she asked with a laugh. "I'm not actually a dessert aficionado. At least not enough to indelibly mark it into my skin."
"No, it just seemed like it might be correct, so I rolled with it." He snickers a little. "Oh, okay. What's something you would imprint on yourself, if it could be anything you wanted?"
"I have no idea to be honest," she admitted. "I've never considered doing such a thing. It was always something for, ah, other classes to do. Sailors or circus performers and the like."
Squick's brows slowly rise. "...Other classes. Are you an actual princess?" He squints one eye. "You have to tell me if I ask! Otherwise it's entrapment."
"That's not what entrapment is anymore than I'm a princess," she said dryly. "I was just privileged in my upbringing."
Squick snorts. "What's that mean? You were just Anna, instead of Elsa?"
"Anna was the Princess," she noted, a little disturbed that she knew that factoid. "My family had money and power, that's all."
Squick nods, studying Rosalyn curiously. "How did that go? Was it rough, or did you like it? No judgment either way, seriously. My family was loaded too."
Ros shrugged. "I don't really have any complaints about the lifestyle. I'm afraid the story of getting from the beginning to here is somewhat long and tedious. Suffice it to say, I don't live that lifestyle any longer. Your own is probably more interesting."
Squick wrinkles her nose. "I don't know about that, to be honest. I'm not in the life anymore either, but that was my own choosing, too. It was better for me in the long run. Healthier. Even though I'm dead." He flips a hand, dismissive.
"How is unlife?" she asked curiously. "When did you get into that?"
"Oh, it's great," Squick replies, tone warm with earnest enthusiasm. "My afterlife is way better than my life was, seriously. Uh...it was probably ten years ago or so?"
"A young one!" she teased. "I'm glad it's working out for you, however. It's delightful. My story started a bit earlier than that."
"Yeah, I'm just a baby," he agrees, giggling a little. Squick leans forward, arms folded on the table. He fixes Rosalyn with a oh-so-serious expression. "You really want to hear my story?"
"Only if you want to share it," Ros said sincerely. "I've never heard a vampire's life story before though."
"Well, there's definitely much longer stories than mine," Squick assures Rosalyn, "Some that would make you look young, too. But mine started not that long ago." He cradles his chin in one hand. "I was a princess, too. A queen, actually." He grins that wide, crescent-moon smile. "A beauty queen."
She chuckled. "I can see that. You do have a very lovely facial structure."
"Oh, no,' he waves a hand at his face. "It's a perfect facial structure; that's the problem. But! That didn't crop up until I was dead. Before, I was...I'd say cute. Not pretty. But my mother, she would have none of that. Started me in pageants when I could barely walk."
"The process of... becoming can change such things so dramatically?" she asked curiously. "Fascinating. Did you enjoy the pageants?"
"For my kind? Definitely. I'm a specific breed." Squick purses their mouth, deliberating. "No. I wanted to please my mother. But I hated the pageants."
"Tale as old as time," she said softly. "How long did you stick with it?"
"Until I was eighteen," Squick murmurs. "Didn't really have a choice. I knew nothing about the world, I was dependent on my parents. You know the drill. But when I was eighteen I didn't need parental permission, so I went and got a full back tattoo. Meant I couldn't be in pageants anymore. Oops." Her lips curl in a satisfied smile. "I mean, she made me pay for it. Still worth it."
Rosalyn gasped. "What did she do" she asked, clearly getting a bit invested in the tale.
"Well....." Squick grins. "I guess you gotta meet me for dessert again to find out."
Ros rolled her eyes. "Smooth, Ms. Squick, Smooth. But I'll bite. Maybe I'll try some baklava tomorrow evening."
"Mx," he laughs, the word sounding like mix. "Oh, I do like baklava! Let's do that. You have to eat it really slow, though. Promise."
"I can't make that promise. It depends on how good it tastes."
Squick issues a huge, pouty sigh. Gives Rosalyn puppy eyes. It's ghastly.
Luckily for Squick, Changelings were frequently exposed to very strange and sometimes frightening appearances. "I'll do my best," she promised.
Squick claps his hands together in a little staccato. "Yesss. Okay, I'll be here."
Rosalyn stood up and stretched. "As will I." She smiled. "Pleasure to meet you."
|