09-05-2015, 01:28 AM
Trumpets blared and saxophones sang into a timely jazzy tune that hung off of the zestfully swinging jamboree. It was a small show, with hardly a stage high enough to hold the band above the rest of the room, but someone had hung some lush velvet curtains and now a bright light fell on them, awaiting the reveal of a face to match the rich voice that began to sing with an enchanting allure as it beckoned the audience into a misty curiosity. Eyes fell on the forbidden wrinkles of velvet, everyone expecting the arrival of just who was behind the curtains.
Slowly, the folds were gently tugged away and the parting of fabric from the center stage flashed with a feminine figure. The spotlight introduced the woman as it glittered against a lustrous red dress, was a the siren who more than enjoyed the center stage.
Heels, a shade darker than her scarlet gown, but the eyes of every man in the room followed the golden skin up past her revealed knee and skimmed over the tight wrapping of fabric as it hugged against her lithe hips. Strapless shoulders reflected a silky sheen of sleek skin, the slow movements of her arms as they cradled the era-bound microphone somehow suited the girl whose curls had been bound in a more flattering and classy hairstyle, matching the times. Lashes, long, black and shimmering with every blink, aligned themselves with the slow and humbled tempo of the song.
Blue steel met Dean’s eyes from across the crowded room, however, instead of becoming tense, the features of her face seemed to soften, and Mary Lou seemed to be able to finish her captivating tune for the rest of the bar, conducting their attention before hanging off of a single note that spiraled into a tangle of piano keys.
“As time.. goes.. by...”
The southern belle’s eyes settled on Dean as the last notes wavered on her freshly rouged lips. A lovely glance over his shoulder affirmed to her that he had not come alone. The sunburned man seemed to have worn an agitated expression in, but it was nothing that a song of an angel couldn’t cure, as he seemed only slightly more relieved than when he entered.
Dean’s hand clenched the dagger.
“Now now.. Let’s not be hasty..” Her deep voice beckoned them to sit as tones of tapping piano keys lingered in the air. A lasting look hung on the mustached-man's expression, who had, by this time, recognized her from the folded picture he felt for in his pocket, yet Sinestro did not bother to unravel it from its safe place to match the stunning light of her face.
Mary Lou was a beacon of lavish taste, her presence even, somehow eloquent. Once, perhaps, untainted by desires that would resort her to killing innocent people, she would have been beautiful in those tasteless pearls.
“So, you like my little Christmas present boys?” She asked as though reading his mind, while a bit of an accent rolled from her charmed lips as she referred to the bandits that had lead the unlikely duo here, “Wrapped with a pretty little bow, just for you to untie, Dean.” A winkless eye held on him, but the lights in the room did more than enough to shimmer on her gaze.
The first-blade held in his hand as he readied it, against her wish. Her chin raised out of distaste, “What...? Not even a hello? Honestly. You, a once-half-assed-human, freshly converted demon, truly think you are a match for an angel?... Or should I say... Reaper?” The taste of the forlorn word kissed their ears with the temptation of death.
“You were right about one thing, remember last time.. When you called me a Rogue? Well, I’ll tell you a secret, as I am confident in your imminent demise this time. Very confident. Do you know how many souls I have collected while you were.. Running around trying to catch me? While you were tracking down a few of my herrings? Let me tell you, Dean, I am a rogue. That should scare you, as well as any, as I have all the power of heaven, Death and ... Well, I think you have put it together that I was hired, and what with Death not around.. I gladly took the job, and for a fraction of the souls I collected, I made a deal.”
Dean’s eyes steadied on the bitch. Suddenly seething at the news. Angels were some of the strongest of all the creatures he had come across. Due do the reaper’s posture, the power in her stride, she wasn’t lying. She didn't flinch at the blade in his hand, despite how close he was to stabbing her in the heart with it. Mary Lou had in such little time, become stronger, faster, and by the look of her thirsting eyes... More hungry.
An angel had bet her soul, well, that was if the bitch had a soul here in this world. Somehow she had gotten around that fact, Demons always had their loopholes. Of this, Dean could be sure.
“You’re gonna die here, bitch.”
A glitter of excitement flashed with the same fragments of shimmering glitter as her dress. “Come now Dean, let’s not make this... Unprofessional.” She raised an empty palm, as though within it, she grasped all the power she would ever need. Her voice asked, after hinting at the tones of the song she had sung as he entered the speakeasy, “It’s still the same old story.. A case of do or die.. As time goes by...”
“Shall we?”
Slowly, the folds were gently tugged away and the parting of fabric from the center stage flashed with a feminine figure. The spotlight introduced the woman as it glittered against a lustrous red dress, was a the siren who more than enjoyed the center stage.
Heels, a shade darker than her scarlet gown, but the eyes of every man in the room followed the golden skin up past her revealed knee and skimmed over the tight wrapping of fabric as it hugged against her lithe hips. Strapless shoulders reflected a silky sheen of sleek skin, the slow movements of her arms as they cradled the era-bound microphone somehow suited the girl whose curls had been bound in a more flattering and classy hairstyle, matching the times. Lashes, long, black and shimmering with every blink, aligned themselves with the slow and humbled tempo of the song.
Blue steel met Dean’s eyes from across the crowded room, however, instead of becoming tense, the features of her face seemed to soften, and Mary Lou seemed to be able to finish her captivating tune for the rest of the bar, conducting their attention before hanging off of a single note that spiraled into a tangle of piano keys.
“As time.. goes.. by...”
The southern belle’s eyes settled on Dean as the last notes wavered on her freshly rouged lips. A lovely glance over his shoulder affirmed to her that he had not come alone. The sunburned man seemed to have worn an agitated expression in, but it was nothing that a song of an angel couldn’t cure, as he seemed only slightly more relieved than when he entered.
Dean’s hand clenched the dagger.
“Now now.. Let’s not be hasty..” Her deep voice beckoned them to sit as tones of tapping piano keys lingered in the air. A lasting look hung on the mustached-man's expression, who had, by this time, recognized her from the folded picture he felt for in his pocket, yet Sinestro did not bother to unravel it from its safe place to match the stunning light of her face.
Mary Lou was a beacon of lavish taste, her presence even, somehow eloquent. Once, perhaps, untainted by desires that would resort her to killing innocent people, she would have been beautiful in those tasteless pearls.
“So, you like my little Christmas present boys?” She asked as though reading his mind, while a bit of an accent rolled from her charmed lips as she referred to the bandits that had lead the unlikely duo here, “Wrapped with a pretty little bow, just for you to untie, Dean.” A winkless eye held on him, but the lights in the room did more than enough to shimmer on her gaze.
The first-blade held in his hand as he readied it, against her wish. Her chin raised out of distaste, “What...? Not even a hello? Honestly. You, a once-half-assed-human, freshly converted demon, truly think you are a match for an angel?... Or should I say... Reaper?” The taste of the forlorn word kissed their ears with the temptation of death.
“You were right about one thing, remember last time.. When you called me a Rogue? Well, I’ll tell you a secret, as I am confident in your imminent demise this time. Very confident. Do you know how many souls I have collected while you were.. Running around trying to catch me? While you were tracking down a few of my herrings? Let me tell you, Dean, I am a rogue. That should scare you, as well as any, as I have all the power of heaven, Death and ... Well, I think you have put it together that I was hired, and what with Death not around.. I gladly took the job, and for a fraction of the souls I collected, I made a deal.”
Dean’s eyes steadied on the bitch. Suddenly seething at the news. Angels were some of the strongest of all the creatures he had come across. Due do the reaper’s posture, the power in her stride, she wasn’t lying. She didn't flinch at the blade in his hand, despite how close he was to stabbing her in the heart with it. Mary Lou had in such little time, become stronger, faster, and by the look of her thirsting eyes... More hungry.
An angel had bet her soul, well, that was if the bitch had a soul here in this world. Somehow she had gotten around that fact, Demons always had their loopholes. Of this, Dean could be sure.
“You’re gonna die here, bitch.”
A glitter of excitement flashed with the same fragments of shimmering glitter as her dress. “Come now Dean, let’s not make this... Unprofessional.” She raised an empty palm, as though within it, she grasped all the power she would ever need. Her voice asked, after hinting at the tones of the song she had sung as he entered the speakeasy, “It’s still the same old story.. A case of do or die.. As time goes by...”
“Shall we?”
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus