Post by Violet Rayne on Nov 28, 2013 5:25:22 GMT -6
The Northwest Passage is singing her song.
It's chanting her name.
It's all high definition beams of farking clarity shooting in as she clears the stage and takes the steps down to the concrete terra.
She grinds her heels on landing, cause you never can be too sure. Some trespasser will definitely try to take the ground right out from under you if you let. Violet Rayne doesn't do the free land grab, she charges busted lips and finger tips for the try.
She slumps down heavy gravity on a chair, streaming sweat and expired violence until she squints at the face behind the camera.
She squints until she is almost blind.
"It's you, isn't it? Jack the full on interloper doing the frames and painting the lines I shred between."
Violet listens to the first of many obvious questions, grabbing a bottle of plastic water for the real thirst trying to rob her blind. She shakes her head before the question even ends.
"Did you forget your history?? Lewis, Clark and Mr. Johnson's sack of endless credits? I don't need no allies pumping the low-res mono static in my ears. The time warp dance doesn't get my heart in a swoon. This is the Northwest Passage and I'm her 24 hour, violence laden guardian. I don't answer calls from demonic albinos doing the war chant. I don't fall to the power of bi-color co-ordination. Mr. Johnson simply has to insert coin and those 88 stations?"
Violet wipes the back of her hand against her lips, setting the water bottle down.
"Those 88 stations light up and I hit the ground full on."
Violet listens again, squinting at that chubbing face behind the lense.
"Send me a message? Then their crypto is full on tragic. T-N-A want to send it before they smash the bottle against their own heads."
Violet clears her throat and does her best tag team impersonation ever.
"Bring your friend. Bring your smurf. Bring your ugly siblings and allll their ugly friends. Give them global, thermo-nuclear bazookas while we tie our color co-ordinated arms to our heads. Then when you destroy us ... we'll ... we'll ... we'll do it all over again!"
Violet raises her hand for the imaginary high five, but leaves Jack the camera hanging cold.
"You want to stack the world against you? Don't expect to be staying at the Sierra Hotel any time soon."
Violet listens one final time, starting to fidget against gravity and uncomfortable chairs.
"Did you just ask me about Ground Zero? Down here. Alone. With me?"
Violet narrows her eyes to suspicion.
"There's a time and place for everything, and you've got them all wrong. The only thing that matters tonight is the 88 stations are singing and the back of several favorite skulls are stinging while the Cosmonaut Title has found orbit above it all. Those visions are full on sugar plums for the ugly siblings. So slip into oblivion with that pillow crammed beneath your blunted head.
Sweet dreams.
Vio-night."
It's chanting her name.
It's all high definition beams of farking clarity shooting in as she clears the stage and takes the steps down to the concrete terra.
She grinds her heels on landing, cause you never can be too sure. Some trespasser will definitely try to take the ground right out from under you if you let. Violet Rayne doesn't do the free land grab, she charges busted lips and finger tips for the try.
She slumps down heavy gravity on a chair, streaming sweat and expired violence until she squints at the face behind the camera.
She squints until she is almost blind.
"It's you, isn't it? Jack the full on interloper doing the frames and painting the lines I shred between."
Violet listens to the first of many obvious questions, grabbing a bottle of plastic water for the real thirst trying to rob her blind. She shakes her head before the question even ends.
"Did you forget your history?? Lewis, Clark and Mr. Johnson's sack of endless credits? I don't need no allies pumping the low-res mono static in my ears. The time warp dance doesn't get my heart in a swoon. This is the Northwest Passage and I'm her 24 hour, violence laden guardian. I don't answer calls from demonic albinos doing the war chant. I don't fall to the power of bi-color co-ordination. Mr. Johnson simply has to insert coin and those 88 stations?"
Violet wipes the back of her hand against her lips, setting the water bottle down.
"Those 88 stations light up and I hit the ground full on."
Violet listens again, squinting at that chubbing face behind the lense.
"Send me a message? Then their crypto is full on tragic. T-N-A want to send it before they smash the bottle against their own heads."
Violet clears her throat and does her best tag team impersonation ever.
"Bring your friend. Bring your smurf. Bring your ugly siblings and allll their ugly friends. Give them global, thermo-nuclear bazookas while we tie our color co-ordinated arms to our heads. Then when you destroy us ... we'll ... we'll ... we'll do it all over again!"
Violet raises her hand for the imaginary high five, but leaves Jack the camera hanging cold.
"You want to stack the world against you? Don't expect to be staying at the Sierra Hotel any time soon."
Violet listens one final time, starting to fidget against gravity and uncomfortable chairs.
"Did you just ask me about Ground Zero? Down here. Alone. With me?"
Violet narrows her eyes to suspicion.
"There's a time and place for everything, and you've got them all wrong. The only thing that matters tonight is the 88 stations are singing and the back of several favorite skulls are stinging while the Cosmonaut Title has found orbit above it all. Those visions are full on sugar plums for the ugly siblings. So slip into oblivion with that pillow crammed beneath your blunted head.
Sweet dreams.
Vio-night."