|
|
Post by jack bose on Jun 1, 2010 17:10:28 GMT -5
She really wasn’t one much for dressing up. It was a circumstantial habit, one done only when she felt both the urge and the passion for a truly amazing outfit. On an average day, shorts that shouldn’t be considered shorts and a t shirt would suffice, but as of late things had been different. As of late, she had been using the money she’d withdrawn, in cash, from the swiss bank right before she’d faked her own death to color her wardrobe with beautiful and amazing pieces, sparkles and sequins and a variety of other things that left people gasping in horror and jealousy as she strode by, mile-long legs lengthened by shoes that could have been the down payment on a car or a small house. Jack was the epitome of glamorous explosion, of the mess that resulted from too much dedication to being perfect. When someone was squeezed like a balloon, until they popped. That was what she was like. That euphoric rush, the instant before the sound of the bursting bubble between your hands hit your ears and you were stunned by the beautiful, peaceful silence. The calm before the storm. She was the moment that sound burst forth and scalded your hands, the instant when the pot bubbled over on the stove. When you lost control of your child, you got someone like Jewel. She was the epitome of head case, the very essence of destruction and annihilation. She’d killed her own parents. And she felt no regret.
Narrow, long legs carried her soundlessly over the campus, six and a half inch heels guiding her on her voyage through the trees and around the quad, where she subsequently planted her ass on a bench and refused to move. Her affinity with Louboutins had passed; instead she’d moved to better and higher things, to shoes that elevated you to skyscraper status and heels that she would walk in every other place. She was the Jessica Rabbit of Siren-Bishop and she felt no shame, no arrogance at that title because it’s how she’d always been. Lips curling into something of a sardonic smile as she crossed on long, nearly-bare leg over the other, her eyes caught the stare of a freshman and she winked. Her status was enviable, in her own eyes. The child ran away. Call her Tuesday Addams, some strange cross between seductive and interested and insulting and desperate, she was a mix of everything you didn’t want to be and then some of the things you longed for, she was a blender-compilation of your most hated and your best songs on a play list. The one you played over and over just because you liked the contrast between good and bad music. Pulling her cigarette out of her bra, the only one she’d tucked away; she’d been saving it for a special occasion, her mother’s red lipstick lining the edge of it, a kiss that would be hers until she tossed it into the ash tray. Just like her mother, gone forever, the cigarette would decompose among millions of others, six feet under the ground.
One year. One year to the day.
She didn’t know how he’d done it, and she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know. Toes curling emphatically in the loop of her shoes, she rolled her head, loosened her shoulders. The spikes on her feet tossed glitters to her eyes and she laid back, a bit, staring at the lip marks on the cigarette as if it held the answers to life. Maybe they did. Maybe everything you could ever need was in a twist of the lips, in a curl of your first or a lock of your hair. Maybe, if she’d accepted the night time blessing when she was a child instead of refusing it, things would be different at the moment. But they weren’t, and there was no going back now. Eyes sliding carefully closed, she brought the cigarette to full, pink lips, placed it between her teeth. She needed a lighter, but she was by far too lethargic to retrieve one from any of the passing students. Spine curled, legs still crossed, head resting on the back of the bench, she felt exposed, raw. In touch with her mother. Some part of her grimaced away from it. She was Jack Bose, not Jewel Campbell. Sympathy and weakness were not ways of spending her time.
click for outfit
[/sub][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by giovanni bose on Jun 1, 2010 21:28:30 GMT -5
He knew the date and he knew it very well. Maybe it was strange that he knew the exact date of every murder he basically committed. In the eyes of Giovanni, it was a simple reminder of what he was capable of and to review any mistakes he may have made and not to make them again. It was why he had a two cellphones; a blackberry with all the killings and anything business related, and then the droid for everything else that was part of his personal life which really wasn't much. It wasn't like he had a girlfriend or anyone he was extremely attached to. He annexed himself from his family, the Montagues, only speaking to his grandparents because they were basically his boss, and then he really didn't have friends because attachment was a big no-no in his line of work and he had to learn that the hard way. He would much rather not relearn that lesson anytime soon.
Bringing the expensive cancer stick up to his lips, he took a long drag as he walked, not really wearing anything out of the ordinary. He wore a simple white t shirt that a slightly fitted, some fitted jeans, and then chucks to make him, in a way, blend in with his environment. Anything who knew him on a personal level, which there was really no one who knew him in that sense, he tended to be more of the dress up no matter what occasion type of guy. He killed people in Prada suits. There were times where he had to whip blood off thousand dollar shoes. He wasn't very high maintenance it was just the way he was raised thanks to his grandparents extremely traditional and old ways of thinking.
So the male walked, silently as he always did, running his fingers through his dark hair while bright orbs nonchalantly surveyed the area as they also always seemed to do. It was like he would instantly mentally prepare himself for every and any possible outcome from completely ridiculous scenarios like a meteor striking the land before him to less radical ideas such as seeing Jewel on the bench.
He still had to mentally remind himself that she had changed her name to Jack. In his mind she was still Miss. Campbell but whenever he spoke to her, he now referred to her as Jack and she was the only one he called by her first name simply because he had been stuck living with her for a while. She, excluding his deceased ex girlfriend, was the only female he ever bothered plowing on more than one occasion and she couldn't claim she was faking all those orgasms. He knew sex was a definite strong point of his and none of her insults could bruise that giant sex-God ego of his. With one hand in his pocket, he pulled out a lighter as he reached her, holding it out to her as he simply took a seat next to her, continuing to suck on his own cigarette without any shame whatsoever. It was obvious he carried himself way differently than the other males there and that he was much more mature-almost stuck in his ways but not just yet.
But he figured he would end up seeing Jack today. He wasn't surprised when she never asked how he got rid of her parents. His grandparents never asked how he got his work done-just trusted that he got it done. All she had to know was that he had done it as she had asked; in whatever way was fitting. So he did it quick and painlessly just because she was an outside client from his grandparents. Plus, it wasn't like he entirely enjoyed what he was doing. He was Giovanni Bose not Black Dynamite. But over the time spent with her, he knew he was getting attached. He never cared if she went off and slept with other people or flirted with them or anything in that sense. No, he much didn't care simply because he knew the second he started caring he would have to get rid of her so he made sure not to go deeper than he was already in. He was about waist deep. Any deeper and he would end up getting swallowed whole and that really wasn't necessary at the moment.
"Afternoon, Jack," he still didn't understand why she changed it to a male name but he didn't bother questioning it. She was everything he hated yet wanted jam packed into one person. Well, he didn't really hate anything about her. So she was simply company for the time being. He wasn't looking at her as he spoke, simply looking out at everyone walking by, occasionally glancing at a few attractive senior females as they glances his way and did the whole sultry or completely innocent smile. He didn't have plow anyone he had to attend classes with. He would much rather not have to deal with them after leaving them high and dry by morning. |
|
|
|
Post by jack bose on Jun 3, 2010 18:40:34 GMT -5
There was a slight pause, a rift in time where she brought the lit cigarette to her lips and inhaled, cat-like blue eyes still closed. She had no doubt who it was, despite the fact that it could have been anyone. Really, there were probably ten people at any given time who'd kill to lick her shoes, let alone light her cigarette and it could have been one of them... but it wasn't. It was Gio, just like it always was. She was getting used to depending on him for the smallest things, which was bad and good at the same time. Never in her short fifteen years of living had there been a person who she could depend on, not even the people who made it seem like they should be there for her at all times. It just didn't work like that, not for Jack and she'd become acquainted with the privilege of taking care of her own needs. No, she didn't just fuck off because mommy and daddy were off getting rich and she could do that; she actually put forth a little activity in her own schedule and had signed up for french lessons at one point, but they were canceled once her parents found out someone who wasn't a Campbell or the pool boy were going to be in her house. She snorted, lightly, and shook her head. “So it would seem,” but that didn't necessarily mean all was well in Jack's world; it hardly ever was. There really, honestly wasn't a day in her life that she didn't wish she could be someone else, now that she was sober enough to realize it. Sure, she loved herself to the point where she'd kill people to keep herself alive without regrets, but that didn't mean it hadn't crossed her mind, even once, what it would be like to be someone who had it easier. Her philosophy was simply this: she didn't care. She was going to die as simply as she could, as quickly as she could and she might as well have fun. To her, seventy five years of life were forty five too many. Thirty was the perfect time to die, maybe sooner, and she was prepared to go out like an overused lightbulb at exactly that moment. The birthday she turned thirty, maybe.
Putting the cigarette between her lips, she slid one slender, long leg over to the other side of his lap, straddling him as easily as the day she was born. Shit had gone down and they'd fucked, once, twice, probably more. She was too high most of the time to remember it and by the time they were done, sprawled, exhausted, on the bed. It was nothing to her to miss the entire day of classes. They were by far too easy anyway. Lips turning up in something of a vicious smirk, she pulled the collar of his shirt down an inch and pressed her lips against the slightly pale skin there, where the sun hadn't hit it yet. It was fall, so the chill ruffled her hair and traveled down her spine, but she ignored it. He was producing enough body heat for the two of them. Unfortunately the height of her shoes was creating a vaguely uncomfortable space between the bottom of her legs and his thigh, so she brought her knees up to the bench and rested entirely on his legs. The one hundred something pounds she weighed was nothing in comparison to the machinery he could pull around like toys, she'd seen it in action, she'd been the weight. Pulling back a bit, she blew the smoke away from his face and chuckled, just briefly. It wasn't common to hear her laugh, except when she had something up her sleeve or there was something particularly lascivious going down. Now was really neither, she was just amused at the expression of the teacher behind them.
Licking her lips rather provocatively, she tilted her head slightly to the side and looped her arms behind his head, “How was your day so far, Mr. Bose?” not that she really cared, nor would she ask if she didn't feel the urge to get in trouble. It was a public courtyard, so theoretically they weren't supposed to be able to do anything, but the problem with that was that most teachers just let anything slide – not all of them. There was a good chance they'd get bitched at and she'd be able to shove her size seven and a half hooker shoes right up the person's ass who'd done it. Running her fingers through his hair, she grinned, “So nice to see you again.”
click for outfit
[/sub][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by giovanni bose on Jun 3, 2010 21:59:38 GMT -5
She was sitting on him. It should have been expected since they were in a fairly public area of the school so he didn't let it bother him, simply remained lean back looking completely comfortable and secure with himself, which he was for the most part. He generally tried to keep a low profile everywhere he went out of habit. It was bad enough when he found out Alessio was attending the academy but instead he was grateful he never saw him unless it was at a time when all the students were gathered for one reason or another which was rare...Even more rare that Giovanni would bother to attend such functions.
When the stick of a female asked how his day was, he knew damn well she did not give a flying fuck how his day was or what was going through his mind. He liked the way she was sitting on him and he was pretty sure that was one of the many positions they used during nightly escapades through the bedroom. He couldn't remember too much...He would generally drowned himself in Scotch or Vodka and she was usually high out of her mind so it didn't matter much to him. A fuck was a fuck was a fuck and since she was currently the only female he knew that wasn't swarming with sexually transmitted diseases, he stuck with her...Considering most females on the campus were sluts.
"Wonderful," it was normal for him to seldom speak even after they'd known each other for quite some time now. It wasn't like he was mute-he just wasn't the type that had much to say is all. So as her fingers ran through his hair, his muscles relaxed a tad bit and in all honesty, if he could which he probably could, he would tear off her clothes and plow her right there on the bench in front of everyone. But once again he was trying to keep a low profile so that was most definitely out of the question. Instead he had one hand resting on her slender hip and then the other going up her back, gently grabbing a tad bit of her hair, wanting to pull on those soft locks so badly but easily refraining by simply playing with it instead, eventually moving some of her hair out of her face when the wind blew to tuck it behind her ear, "And your day? I'm sure you did something worthwhile," she always did.
Jack was the type who always had something interesting to say and he most definitely had to learn that the hard way. At first it sucked, being stuck with her chattering away while he had t sit and listen in a car he didn't want to be stuck in especially with her. he could have easily went to another country without her and just left her for dead there in Italy. But it would have been too easy a kill and for some reason she reminded him of his ex lover. Maybe it was simply how she was generally independent and could stand her own ground. Her stubborn nature matched her's perfectly and it bothered him. He couldn't kill another female he had grown attached to whether it was obvious or not. It seemed like he had nothing to depend on off her but really-she was his only form of social interaction that wasn't actually forced like the rest of the student body.
[ooc: sorry it;s so short D: I'm half dead and distracted and you know by what, xD ] |
|
|
|
Post by jack bose on Jun 4, 2010 19:30:10 GMT -5
Wonderful. It was a word that implied something out of the ordinary had happened, that the time spent in the class room was better then it usually was or that an event, one which she couldn’t even fathom, had made the person’s who’s guttural utterance so annoyed her day that much better. She was pessimistic, she was attuned to the misfortunes in life and hearing someone say the word ‘wonderful’ in reference to their day made her want to scream. Scratch her eyes out. Scratch their eyes out. Lips curling down in something like a grimace, she arched her back, stretching her arms behind her head and shook her head, a cascade of dark blonde curls falling over an ample chest as she did so. She wasn’t as flat chested as some of the other broads that had appeared about campus, which was both good and bad. Good, because she could use them to her own advantage whenever she so pleased, and bad because when it came to things like cross country and various other irritating aspects of high school, they got in the way. Brushing a hand through her own hair, disregarding the boy toying absently with it, she let the smirk befall her lips once more. “I suppose it was decent… enough.” there was a mocking tone in her voice that suggested exactly the opposite. “I’m beginning to regret having fucked the biology professor for that A. He’s hardly someone I’d be attracted to otherwise,” not that attraction was anything near what she felt for humanity or anything higher. She was hardly one much for thinking things through and often lived in the moment, beauty striking her but not leaving a dent or hardly an impact as she perused through life, a shopper with no spending limit in Macy’s on 34th street.
The man himself wasn’t that bad looking, with dark brown hair and a pair of hazel eyes that could stop even the most self-assured girl in her tracks; he had a sort of feminity about him, despise the obviously masculine traits - the size of his hands, for example, was much larger then a girl’s could ever be. There was something in the cleanness of him that made him appear much less masculine, she supposed, idly twirling a strand of near-black hair between her thumb and forefinger. Gio himself was something like the man, and she supposed that’s where the initial recognition had come from, but if she was being honest she really had no attachment to either, apart from familiarity. She had to sit through his dull lectures anyway so a little something to think about wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Toes curling in her shoes once more, hanging backwards off the bench, she ran her fingers under the collar of his shirt and smirked, “It couldn’t have been that wonderful without my lovely presence, could it?” but she was just fucking with him and it was obvious in the cynicism in her words. She knew he probably didn’t want her around just as much as she wished she could have just been Jewel Campbell, but she didn’t want to die and thus hiding from his fucking retarded family was a good idea. It wasn’t her fault that the prick had ripped her off for a hefty sum and then ultimately fucked her over by making her trash her life, so why should she take the blame for it? Any time she got the means to pay him back, even a little bit, she promptly did so. Jack was strictly revenge-driven and it was kind of pathetic on some level or another. No one noticed that, though, merely watched out for her because the damage she was capable of doing was for worse then what they could imagine. After all, she did have most people under her little finger; as if the beauty was enough, she was vicious and angry, a combination that only looked good on people who knew how to wear it.
click for outfit
[/sub][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by giovanni bose on Jun 7, 2010 16:15:56 GMT -5
Jack was beautiful, which was something he had noticed when first meeting her only when he first met her, he thought nothing of her since she was so young and at the time he was still with his ex girlfriend-and only girlfriend he ever had-so he was content with his life then. He had someone to go home to at night, to plow senseless, to buy things for, to travel with, to wake up in the middle of the afternoon to eat pancakes. He didn't really notice Jack's "true" beauty until they actually ran off 'together', which was an understatement. It was mostly him dragging her away or he'd have to kill her and she looked and acted almost exactly like his ex...No, she didn't look entirely like her. Jack's hair was darker, she was taller, and she had less of a chest and less of an ass than his ex did. Basically, Jack was model thin...His ex actually had the entire hourglass shape to her...and she actually ate and didn't care much for designer things...
Pushing the thoughts out of his mind as Jack spoke, letting her voice drag him out of whatever went on in that overcrowded mind of his, he chuckled, "Now it's wonderful," he ignored her comment on having sex with her biology professor. He tended to always ignore any comment she ever made on having sex with anyone and they didn't talk about having sex with each other. It was a sort of 'it happens when it happens' basis which he didn't entirely mind. It was only that she was very straight forward with who her sexual partners were while he didn't ever voice his own mainly for respect of himself and his own privacy. It wasn't like he even put his name out there either which was also very normal for him. Despite not actually needing to hide anything about himself other than the fact he was a hitman for the Italian mob, it was just a habit he did not feel was necessary to break at the moment.
And of course he had stated wonderful in the most sarcastic of ways...Sarcastic for him at least. Most people didn't catch on, Jack included, when he really didn't mean what he was saying, "Next time screw the head of the science department," he let it slip out as if it were nothing, simply because he knew she would probably do it anyway, "that way you'll have an A in any science class for as long as he is 'in office'," he shrugged, fingers running down from her hair, down her back, and then onto her thighs, glancing over her thin shoulder at the few students who dared openly stare. Most of them were women who seemed envious of Jack which he truly did not understand why. From what he'd heard it was because she was able to remain in his presence without blushing up a storm and without falling into a fit of giggles and unintelligent conversation subjects.
He was already tired of Siren Bishop Hall and all of its faculty and students. It was seriously a waste of time but they needed to do something. They couldn't just hop from place to place to place because that would make them suspicious and he really didn't want to change his name. He liked the name Giovanni but he didn't like his new last name. He was stuck with it, though. Either way, they probably should have went somewhere nicer...Like Brazil. He loved Brazil..Instead they were in America-a place he didn't like.
|
|
