Streets 4} Damara and Mary

Damara played by Dodo, Mary played by Deku

Following the interesting encounter with the artist, Damara found herself walking back in the direction of her hive, several bags of food being pulled along behind her with her telekinesis. Although she’d flown out here originally, she tended to prefer walking back the way she came after she’d bought her food. It was true that the Megido family psionics were powerful, but they weren’t exactly the most precise set of powers in the world. Sure she could probably manage to keep everything in the bags with heavy enough concentration, but Damara wasn’t too keen on enduring that sort of mental strain right now. The last thing she wanted was to get a raging headache alongside the other aches and pains that plagued her on the regular. Hands in her pockets, the burgundy blood sulked along with her hair still hanging down in a wild and uncombed fashion, thinking over the ‘conversation’ she’d had with Julwae an hour or so prior.
Admittedly, Damara found herself to have a little bit of begrudging respect for the otherwise nervous wreck of a troll after they’d made their pathetic attempt to stand up to her. The toss of an apple had been far more than she had ever mustered back when she was suffering under similar circumstances, even if that discounted the genuine mental damage she’d already had to go through after her horrendous breakup with the matesprit she had thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Of course Julwae had recently dealt with being kidnaped, but Damara had no way of knowing that. Either way it still spoke volumes to her ability to stand up for herself where Damara had faltered, which also made her a bit envious as well. The ‘if only’ train of thought was no stranger to the rustblood’s pan, and it seemed to consume most of her thoughts as she skulked down the street, ignoring the occasional glances she got due to how gnarly she looked. If only she’d been as strong then as she was now. If you could even count her current state as strong, anyways.

Mary stared at Damara, long enough to make anyone uncomfortable. She was standing beside a jewelry store, looking almost like a doll as she stared. She thought of how ratty the stranger looked, how unladylike. But that was okay. It never mattered how unkempt a stranger walking past looked, Mary saw something beautiful in the vulgar troll before her. Maybe it was just the look in her eyes, or the way her hair swooped behind her. She liked imagining the backstories of strangers. An existential crisis tearing someone's life apart? A divorce, or breakup with a live-in partner? In a way, these unaware people were her dolls, and she used them to act out scenarios in her head. After all, she never really had much, and liked it that way.

Damara wasn’t really looking for trouble anymore now that she had her cargo in hand (metaphorically speaking, anyways) but she couldn’t help but note the scathing gaze of the not so distant human. Well, perhaps scathing was a bit of a harsh way to put it. Though even if the look on Mary’s face was rather calm as she observed the glimmers of beauty in the messy troll, the burgundy wasn’t exactly keen on the prospect of being sized up like that. Coming to a stop a short distance away, Damara placed her hands on her hips as she stared back at the human, her array of grocery bags coming to a stop behind her as they caught up. Who did they think they were, eyeing her up like that? She wasn’t some piece of meat to be observed, but apparently they were going to need to learn that lesson the hard way.
“WHY YOU STARE? NOBODY EVER TELL YOU. STARING RUDE?” Damara barked out in an aggressive tone, her own eyes narrowed and hostile in contrast to the demeanor of the being opposite to her. It was pretty easy to get on the rustblood’s nerves nowadays, after she’d become so critical of everything and everyone around her. Had she been a couple sweeps younger she might have hurried past and otherwise ignored the link, but Damara’s wrath had already been roused. Mary was in for a questioning of her own, although one would hope she’d fair better then the late Julwae.

"I am deeply sorry, miss," Mary mused, "But I couldn't help but notice that you're beautiful." She kept her mysterious smile, even through her apology, noting Damara's accent. She thought it complimented her, and thought about commenting on it, but held her tongue. She stared Damara directly in the eyes and straightened her wrought metal mask, as black as her eyes and the roses she kept in her makeshift home.

Damara blinked once in surprise, seeming to be momentarily taken off guard by the remark that Mary made. However, the burgundy blood would not be thrown off for long, quickly redoubling the frustrated glare just a moment or so later. It was nearly impossible to get her flustered through verbal remarks alone as one could probably gleam from her behavior in the memo, so simply being told she looked nice did little more than confuse her for a split second. It was a bit of an odd assertion anyways, given how run down Damara looked at the moment. She could describe herself in a great many ways right now, but beautiful was nowhere to be found within her thinkpan. What was in her pan, though, were curious thoughts as to the intent of the human. Obviously Damara did not think such a remark could be genuine, so they undoubtedly wanted something from here. Although what that something was, it was still unclear to her.
“WHY YOU TELL ME THIS? YOU STREET WHORE?” The rust blood questioned accusingly, as if pressing a subject that she was interrogating. It was the first thing that had come to her mind, partially because it usually dwelled on similarly lewd topics, and also because she saw no other reason for Mary to be trying to butter her up in such a fashion. Damara’s psionics only allowed her to lift objects, so she had no real way of saying for sure what the human wanted though. All she could do was take wild guesses, and hope that she’d either hit the mark or they’d explain themselves properly.

Mary giggled a bit. She had never been called a street whore before, though she supposed she dressed like one, in regard to her mask. She had seen and conversed with a prostitute or two, and got the jist of reproductive systems, but was never completely sure. She had never asked. "I may be a "lady of the night", but I am not offering such favors. I don't even know how." She smoothed out her dress. "I'm simply wondering what lies behind those gorgeous eyes of yours."

The immediately following grimace from Damara likely told Mary all she needed to know about how she felt about the comment. Despite the way that she behaved in the context of the memo, the burgundy blood was not very receptive to solicitations. In fact, she downright hated any attempts to flirt with or otherwise get close to her, having become jaded towards such actions after the advent of Rufioh’s cheating. Pleasantries and nicknames only served to make her sick to her stomach at best, and downright rancorous at worst. Mary was lucky that Damara was in a good mood, well, as good of a mood as she could manage nowadays anyways, otherwise she might be on the receiving end of another swath of garbage rather than just a wrathful stare. Though either way it was becoming clear that it wouldn’t take much more to prompt a hostile reaction from the troll.
“PAN BEHIND EYE. NEVER LEARN BIOLOGY. SLOW BRAIN SLUT.” Damara sneered, ignoring the obvious meaning behind Mary’s worlds and instead electing to continue insulting her. The foul tempered burgundy blood was unlikely to settle in the face of such words, so perhaps it was more a matter of when she’d feel pushed enough to mount some sort of attack then if. The way her fingers twitched alongside other facets of her agitated body language made it clear, though, the rust blood was a ticking time bomb, potentially primed to blow up in the human’s face. Perhaps it would be best to clear the blast zone rather than sticking around to see the boom.

Mary giggled once again, amused by Damara's negative response to compliments. "I have never cared to learn. Seems like too much work for a girl like me. I guess you could say my very soul has been consumed by the sin of sloth. If you believe in Hell, you can be sure I'd go there." She had an expression of interest on her face, her smile growing slightly. What did this stranger want? She couldn't tell, but she could tell that Damara was preparing for a fight. "You don't need to fight me, I pose no threat or ill will. I can tell you are used to people who do. Or do you simply not care, and intend to strike without provocation? If the latter is true, I don't care if you strike me down. It will hurt, but I'm prepared. I will not fight back."

While Damara indeed enjoyed making others confused, annoyed, or simply just wasting their time in general, she tended not to react so well when she was on the opposing side of her own treatment. It had been all fun and games when she was taunting Jaulwae, but Mary’s perverse looks and similarly bothersome comments weren’t exactly tickling the burgundy blood’s fancy. She was briefly tempted to use her telekinesis to slam the human into one of the nearby alleyway walls in order to shut her up after they said they would not fight back, her right hand seeming to shift slightly as she considered it, although ultimately Damara’s more violent options went unused. It would be giving Mary what she wanted, or seemed to be what she wanted anyways, so the troll elected to restrain herself for now.
Although despite that, the rust blood was not going to stop giving the pest a piece of her mind. “YOU NO WANT FIGHT. THEN WHAT YOU WANT? NO WANT TROUBLE. THEN NO STARE. BITCH.” Damara huffed, her grimace growing in tandem with the expansion of Mary’s own smile. She seemed to tilt her head downwards slightly as well, as if preparing to ram her like the animal her horn’s resembled. If it weren’t for the groceries in tow Damara might have even considered such a thing, but she’d rather keep her food together if she could help it. Otherwise she’d have to go back to the store and spread her funds even thinner. It may yet be preferable to continuing this conversation, however. Decisions, decisions...

Mary could almost see the rage emanating off of Damara. The ravenette brushed her ebony hair back over her left shoulder. "My reasoning was clear. I was copying you down in my mind, because I saw you and thought you were pretty. I want to remember you. I don't talk to many people, since I live in an alley just down the street and people rarely come by, but this altercation has made me wiser. Thank you, Miss." Mary bowed her head, the piece of hair from before falling back down in front of her shoulder as her flip phone buzzed impatiently. "I do apologize for being rude and unladylike."

Just when it seemed as if Damara was going to explode like an overloaded volcano, she abruptly let out a disgruntled sigh, pushing her front foot into the ground as she pitched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. It was extremely tempting to use her psionics to mess with the human in some fashion, but what was the point? Usually when she wanted to give someone a hard time, it was when she was going out of her way to do so. Not when she was fending off lecherous alleyway skanks who like to let their eyes drift to places they shouldn’t for far too long. Although truthfully Mary wasn’t being as overtly perverted as Damara seemed to believe, it was difficult for her to view it any other way when her own perception of reality had become somewhat twisted around the depraved.
Looking up towards the human once more, the burgundy blood would give her a somewhat more tired and restrained, but nonetheless fearsome look. “DUMB WHORE. I NOT FUCK YOU. FUCK YOURSELF.” The rust blood growled, her flat teeth grit into a final grimace before she abruptly turned and began to walk back down the street the way she had been going originally, peeling out of the alleyway rather abruptly as she did. Her floating bags of groceries would follow quickly in tow, and just as soon as the bizarrely aggressive troll had appeared, she was gone. It was rather difficult to judge what Damara’s problem was from such a brief encounter, but at least Mary would be left to her lonesome now, without having garbage hurled at her to boot.

Mary hummed a nostalgic tune as the rude rustblood left. Turning on her heel and gracefully stepping back into the alley next to the jewelry store, she picked up a blue ragdoll and smiled, brushing its hair with her long, sharp, black fingernails. She spoke to the doll in a soft voice. "I quite like her, don't you, Molly? She truly was a beautiful woman. If only she cleaned up her act a little. Such a shame. Did she really think she'd hurt me? Even if she tried, I don't imagine she could do much. I might be overconfident, but I don't think I'm too far off. If I do see her again, I will be sure not to come off as strongly as I did. But she likely will not pass by here again. Such a shame, really. I like her accent." The porcelain girl went back to singing softly, as she recounted all the events that just transpired. Then, she gasped. Her phone! Surely a lot has happened on the memo since she went idle. Did she even log off? She checked it, and read from the last message she sent to the most recent, smiling quietly at the escapades of her potential friends.

Scene End