--rain clouds come to play,

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---SUICIDE? IT WAS TEMPTING. it was a shame sylvia ashton rivers was much too in love with herself to ever really consider it. the more time she spent aimlessly wandering around this stupid town, the more she wished she had never been born. she was sick of all these people and their idiotic words and ideals. the more she associated with them, the more she came to abhor their very existence. earth was a cest pool for the damned. zealots and murderers alike were all going to end up in the same place, in her opinion, but she would personally welcome hell's inferno with open arms. anything was better than this place she was cursed to dwell in. the very idea of remaining there for another sixty years made her physically sick, but there wasn't much she could do about it. there was no chance that she would ever consider self harm, at least not anything outright. she was selfish, and conceited, and absolutely convinced she was the best thing to be graced with. if she killed herself, she would kill earth's last chance. then again, she had zero intentions of procreating, so it wasn't like she would have anybody to pass on her legacy to. maybe she could go back to where she grew up, in bombay, and find some little street urchin to train like an obedient little puppy dog. she wasn't interested in a cookie-cutter rule follower though. the kid would have to have a fire in them, to be able to handle anything the world was sick enough to throw at them. she probably couldn't find somebody worth it. she'd been through a shitstorm on and off throughout her life, and while she was past most of it, except the most recent stuff, she knew most people wouldn't be as okay as she was... and that was saying something. she was a hot ass mess, but she was strong. there wasn't a person on this god forsaken planet who could deny it. she took every curve ball that was thrown at her and slammed it out of the park. she owned her stadium, and nobody could take it away from her. nobody could break her anymore, and maybe that was why she was so fed up with all the scum she was forced to live amongst kept looking at her like she was broken, like she needed to be fixed. they gave her pitiful, disgusted stares, resenting her churlish behavior. well, newsflash. she didn't need their pity, or their help. she wasn't broken.

at least, that was what she kept trying to convince herself of.

alcohol was her crutch. she drank more than enough of it out of pleasure, and pain. syl wasn't the type to admit inferiority or weakness, and she would never in a million years own up to needing it for reasons aside from a craving or a desire. she wasn't interested in seeing a therapist, or dealing with people who claimed to care about her. nobody cared. the entire world was full of hypocrites. all those people who worked for the peace corps or unicef were the best damn bullshit players around, pretending like they care about the wellbeing of their fellow humans. there were priests and saints and religious buffoons who claimed that the greatest principle in life was to love thy neighbor as thyself. well syl was calling bullshit on every last one of them. she didn't even doubt that nobody really cared about her. she was in this alone, and quite frankly, she was perfectly okay with it. the blonde would probably be even happier to find herself alone in the wilderness, or stranded on some deserted island. syl wasn't going to try lie and feign that she cared about anybody but herself. sure, there was her sister, but she was gone. and her only other friend was a waste of air and space, and she definitely didn't give a bigger damn about him than she gave about herself. syl was her own true love. she didn't even really believe in love, because all these people who were married and engaged or whatever else romance-stricken imbeciles did these days, they were fools. they claimed to love their partner more than themselves, and to syl it all just seemed unhealthy. why would anybody want to put their whole life in the hands of another person? to give them an iron grip over their livelihood? love was the power to break people, that was it. it was a lie, and it hid the damage that it really did with red roses, diamond rings, and chocolates shaped like hearts. fifty percent of the population was divorced, and the other fifty percent were either miserably pretending to be happy, or staying together for the sake of somebody else. it was totally and completely sick. to somebody like syl, it was an excuse. people weren't strong enough to handle their problems on their own, or they needed a pick me up, or were just too plain repulsive to be able to be sexually active without a permanent partner. there was a double edge to that revolting thing called marriage, and the sharper, stronger side was the uglier one.

poison had been filtering through her system since nine o'clock that morning. the previous night she'd done some business for the first time since she and her sister split up, meeting up with a client who was a little too grabby and she ended up punching him in the face. he ranted about how he'd make sure her boss heard from him, since he'd assumed she was a mere messenger, and she'd only smiled bitterly in response. when she woke up that morning, her knuckles were bruised and purple. hopefully that asshole's face looked worse. instead of getting it checked out, she'd turned to her liquor, downing it from the moment her eyes had open. the day itself was a blur. she wasn't even sure of the date, or the time, she just found herself aimlessly wandering the streets with no real purpose in mind. at one point she'd woken up in the bed of her hotel room again, not even remembering ever returning. she figured she had probably passed out at the bar or something earlier. ever since she made friendly with the boss, the bartenders let her drink twenty-four seven. she was their best customer. one of them must have brought her back up to her room, though she couldn't be sure. they knew her well enough, it was possible. she hazily had gotten dressed, grabbing something green that didn't look hideous and slipping it onto her frail body. she had continued with her unhealthy habits, more alcohol than food. she really couldn't recall how she had ended up where she was now though, at the club. the only things she somewhat clearly remembered from the day was waking up, and then waking up for the second time. life was meaningless. maybe she was a full blown nihilist at this point. or maybe that was the alcohol talking. regardless, she wasn't going to stop drinking. it was the last thing she had control of, herself. her family was all gone, dead or not. she didn't really have anybody else except her very own personal russian douche bag that was probably off screwing some disgusting, cheap hooker in a moldy motel room. whatever, she didn't care. none of it mattered, not to her. she wasn't anybody's keeper, or mother, or guardian. as long as nobody was coming at her with a blunt weapon, she was going to consider herself happy, because in reality, this whole "life" thing wasn't going to get much better than this. these were the golden years, baby.

it was the most alcohol she'd consumed since joey had left. normally syl had some sort of self control, keeping in mind that she didn't want to permanently damage her poor liver, because that would be self harm and it would go against every principle she stood for. but today? today wasn't her problem. everybody deserved a no-rules day, and today was syl's, so she kept drinking. she smelt much too strongly of vodka and cheap beer, drinking almost anything she could get her hands on. her right hand laid limp in her hand since her bruised knuckles were still bothering her, and her left grabbily snatched up every shot the bartender poured for her. wait... where was she again? syl tried to open her eyes, to focus on her surroundings. it was bright, and the music was playing too loud. there was a bubbly girl ordering a drink next to her that looked way too young to be drinking, but nobody seemed to really give a fuck. syl didn't, that was for sure. people were pressed tightly together, and a few feet away was some neon lit dance floor where people were getting way too sweaty, and deciding to conceive little pools of it at their feet by pressing their overheated bodies against each other. why did she come here? it was pathetic, everybody. "give me... something, your favorite," syl muttered to the bartender, slurring her words. he seemed to hesitate, probably wondering whether she had already passed her drinking limit. well, she had, but way before she walked into this club she couldn't even remember the name of. everything was so hazy. "can i have your keys?" syl snorted, lying smoothly in response to his little question, "didn't drive. my friend is picking me up after she gets of work," syl having a girl friend? hah, that was funny. the bartender decided not to care, whether he believed her or not, she couldn't tell. hell, he was letting sally mcunderaged over there drink in the first place, what did he care if syl wanted to drink herself into a stupor, or to death. he didn't have any emotional attachment to her, and even if he did, it wasn't his decision, it was hers.

the guy poured some pretty green drink in a shot glass for her, and she turned around on her stool with it in her hand to watch the people grinding up against each other. suddenly it seemed way too hot in the room, but maybe that was just all the closeness and the body heat. she brought the shot to her lips and drank it halfway before setting it back on the counter behind her. her silvery blue eyes were mesmerized by the flashing white light across the room, the laser show brightly flickering against the walls and the skin of the patrons. it was giving her a migraine. out of nowhere, syl's stomach turned, and she could feel the dizziness enveloping her head. her hand immediately went to her lips as she hopped off the stool and darted through the crowd sloppily, running into various people as she went. her black heels fell off one at a time as she stumbled and tripped, and finally she pushed her way into the men's bathroom without realizing it. it was totally empty, and she noticed the urinals briefly before falling into a stall and slamming the fragile door behind her without locking it. in a second she was on her knees, heaving over the toilet as she began to throw up, both her hands clutching the side of the bowl. well, this was fun. she had never thrown up because of consuming too much alcohol. her stomach contracted over and over again, each time a new batch of freshly brewed upchuck spewing into the dirty white toilet. "fucking shit," she spat before going at it again. this wasn't because of the alcohol, this was because she'd eaten something. she could vaguely remember wandering through the inferno's kitchen and grabbing herself a piece of rich chocolate cake without being noticed. she would have to remember not to eat on an alcohol filled belly, and especially not something like gourmet cake. she was a mess, puking all over herself in the men’s bathroom. she should win a gold medal or something.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)2,018 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) hurrah! (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ So, five years ago, if you were to see Donny Davis at a club like Bare, you would be confused. He would have looked completely out of place and completely bored. He would have been standing awkwardly on the side lines wishing he were home. He would be rolling his eyes at every drunk girl and her jock boy toy as they passed with an air of arrogance surrounding him. Today? He did not look awkward or bored. He did not look judgmental. He did however still look out of place because despite his drinking, he never seemed to get drunk and despite his attractive appearance and cocky nature, he still had a cloud around him that screamed at the world he was better than the other people in the club. Now, that air around an attractive, intelligent confident man at a club worked to his benefit. Five years ago, with that cloud surrounding a guy who was clearly miserable, dorky and well, not as pretty to look at, that just made him the jack ass people almost decided to jump. Believe me, he knew how it was. When Donny was more... Donny and less Heyward as he was now, he had in fact gone to these clubs. Mostly by force by Andromeda Wallace, his ex girlfriend. Blonde, of course. He definitely had a weakness for blondes. He was good with the confident, dark and sexy brunette here and there but usually blondes were the first he noticed. The ones he was immediately attracted to but there was still Liz once upon a LONG time ago and... well, Olivia Richardson but that was one road too confusing to think about, even for him.

------ Back to the point, Andie had always tried to get him doing what she wanted him to do. And since she was a bombshell that he was head over heels in love with and gave him sex? Yeah, he was in the palm of her hands. But it always took a lot for her to get him to dance with her. He did because better him than some stranger grinding up on his girlfriend's ass. He was not good at it. He was passing now, simply because he had gone to so many on his world tour with Kale. As cliche as it sounded, Andie had broken his heart. He really did love her. Thinking of it now amazed him that he could have ever been in love with anyone, not just her. She was spunky and fierce, a Hitchcock blonde so to speak, definitely his type. She frustrated him to no end, but that didn't stop him from falling in love with her. And he did. He loved her. But she couldn't seem to be able to love him back. And he broke it off. He and she had both broken it off multiple times. But when Iz died, Andie had come through for him. He spent the next few weeks, drunk, and depressed and shut in, not talking to anyone. Andie was the only person he opened the door for. She stayed with him. Maybe she had been ready to change finally. It was too late though, because by then, Donny had changed. But she promised one and gave another. Donny avoided that issue by not making promises. Because by god, if he made a promise he kept it.

------ For example, when Iz died, Donny had promised to pay them back. And what did he do? He kept his word and had his first kill. And it barely phased him. He was already gone. Back in Valkyrie, five years later, Donny was having a good time. He had come with Widow and Kale, both of whom had disappeared but he was keeping busy talking with a gorgeous blonde girl (of course) over at the bar. Things were going well. She was pleasant enough. She was no Andie, but seeing as Donny wasn't looking for more than a good time, he didn't really care if she was that interesting of a person. As long as she was fun, and he didn't mean that in a misogynistic assface way, he has to kind of like a girl to sleep with her, unlike Kale. He wasn't really attracted to drunken easy girls, in fact he found them kind of gross. Even if it was just for the night, he liked them to understand sex didn't mean commitment and that their voices didn't make him cringe with the idiocy leaking from their lips. She was 21, college junior at Valkyrie University and an accounting major. What? I already said she wasn't that interesting. It made Donny smile a little bit simply because she sometimes tried to make accounting sound interesting with computer specifics she kept getting wrong. She was funny though. She had brushed some hair from her face and smiled at him, "So, you ready to get out of here or what?" Donny smiled and nodded before downing the last of his drink, "Yeah, Just give me a minute Jess. Have to go to the bathroom." He stood up off the stool and leaned over giving her a kiss on the cheek, "I'll be right back."

------ Donny then turned on his heel and made his way through the crowd to where the bathrooms were. He pushed the door open and did his business in one of the urinals before he heard a more feminine voice curse and then follow it up with puke. He scrunched his nose up. Remember how he didn't like drunk girls? this was why. Well, drunk was fine, as long as it wasn't to this point. Donny, all his life, was a very clean person. He was never one of those guys that thought they could wear their boxers three days in a row. He never thought it was okay to go more than two days without showering, and even that was stretching it, he was more an every day shower man. More if it's hot and he was sweating. Vomit was not something he found sexy. After washing his hands he called out rolling his eyes a bit, "Hey! You okay in there?" He asked from outside the stall. Donny reached up and knocked on the door but it opened to a familiar blonde hurled over the toilet. He groaned slightly, "Really Syl? With all that big talk I would have thought you'd be above this..." He said plainly looking down at her. He rolled his eyes as she leaned over the toilet, he crouched down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You done yet? We'll get you some water." He offered. Cocky smart ass or not, nice guy Donny was still there, he just was no longer a push over.</sub>

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TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; yay

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---THERE WAS NOTHING IN THIS WORLD that would make syl rivers accept somebody else's pity. she didn't care who it was; joey, jamie, bob from the hot dog cart, or mr. president himself. she didn't care, she didn't want to care, and she didn't want them to care either, because it was harder not to care when so many people around you cared. pity was pathetic, though. it was a whole degrading level lower than caring. pity was a slap in the face, a taunting bulletin board informing you that the world had a meeting and they all decided as a whole that you weren't strong enough to handle what you've been given. pity was what influenced people to give bums a couple coins. pity was what caused people to adopt dogs from the pound. pity was for broken, sad, and lost people. it was for the people who had not only been forgotten by the world, but forget themselves in the process. they were the people who maybe craved pity, they had dreams about tearing up in front of their one true love so he or she could run up and hold them like there was no tomorrow. syl wasn't into that bull shit. she didn't care to have friends, or loved ones, and she didn't care to have anybody she could let in for them to even know her well enough to be able to bother caring. the icy concrete bordering her heart was getting higher and higher. it was reaching towards the sky, soaring to the sun and the moon. it had gotten so thick, and so high that it was now past the point of no return. that wall could never be broken down again, it was every great empire's dream come true. the stony look in her eyes was here to stay.

the frail, but fiery, blonde had always been somewhat destructive. she had little sense of self preservation, diving into whatever she felt like without a thought or an action. her whole life she had somebody to check and balance her, to make sure she wasn't going off the deep end. syl was irresponsible and impulsive, and now nobody was around to make sure she didn't fall overboard. well here's a secret, she fell overboard weeks ago. now she was drowning in the murderous waters, but fighting tooth and nail to not let it take her away completely. she was still sylvia ashton rivers, but now she was just a more worn out, and infuriated sylvia ashton rivers. even as a kid her parents had kept close eyes on her when she was out and about to make sure she wasn't causing problems. everything she touched burst into flames, and that left the essence of her being as an exploding inferno. the fire never went out, but sometimes it got so small it could hardly light up a room. and then there had been days, usually not recently, when the fire could have taken the place of the sun. these days she was simply angry. everything got under her skin, everything made her tired. she was done trying to calm the flames, because quite frankly, they could hardly spark up a forest fire at this point. there was a constant inner turmoil going on about how she could screw herself over, but then again, she didn't want to. that was probably why syl drank, because otherwise she thought too much about things she really didn't want to think about in the first place. one day she would decide to suck herself dry of the poison she'd become so accustomed to, and she'd do it with more strength than those withdrawal-based stupid little alcoholics who attended weekly therapy to get over their urges. she could do it with grace. watching syl was like watching the most graceful bird fly, bursting into flames, and then watching as it maintained its grace to land in a pool of icy water.

sitting there in that bathroom stall, she was filled with a sudden self loathing. the old syl would have picked her up by the throat and slapped her across the face and snapped at her to get it together. but then again, it was that old syl core that kept the girl going, that made her get up in the morning. the brash, intimidating, peaceful syl was still at the center of everything, but she was wearing a heavy load of casts for all the wrongs that had gone on lately. she hated that she was so incredibly repulsive lately, but quite frankly, she couldn't make herself care enough to change. she was still snarky and cold, she was just drunk more often than not. she needed to stop soon though, or she'd drink herself to death, which was about as pathetic as putting a revolver to your head to end the misery. syl wasn't miserable, she wasn't sad. that would be too pathetic. no, she just didn't want to feel anything, or think about anything. she didn't really have much of a purpose except to make everybody else feel down on themselves, and she could do that while numbing herself with alcohol. she liked the carelessness it gave her, and the muggy haze it draped over her existence. it was probably the one thing that kept her from being insane. or maybe it was all an excuse, people she still functioned pretty well without the alcohol, she was just more defensive and more pissed off. every little thing would annoy her, and at least when she was intoxicated she could trick herself into not being annoyed, so she could actually leave her hotel room without having to wear ear plugs and squeezing her eyes shut. and anyway, after tonight she'd probably lay off the liquor for a little bit. as much as she hated the world, throwing up was something she hated infinitely more. it was disgusting, and she wished she could have kicked herself, because she was thoroughly repulsed by the very scene going on in the bathroom at that moment.

as she sat there, with her head hanging over the toilet, she heard a voice call out if she was okay. she ignored it promptly, focusing more on whether or not she was going to vomit again. she seemed to have gotten it all out, and proceeded to spitting out the leftovers as the stranger interrupted her privacy and came in to watch the show. what a sick bastard. watching somebody puke for fun was like lighting a baby's hair on fire. in any other condition she might feel like she should kick them in the nads. her attention perked towards the stranger a little more when she heard her name. the voice wasn't very familiar. it didn't sound like her russian girlfriend, and he would have been making fun of her or something, not this cheesy small talk. without responding to mr. mystery's sarcastic remarks, she closed her eyes and spit out the last remaining solids. this was gross, and stupid. she felt a hand on her shoulder. was he still here? she was suddenly extremely irritated, and shook the hand off violently before spinning around and sliding her butt across the small space of the stall to lean her back against the opening wall. she rested both her hands out on her knees limply, her head propped up by the stall behind her. she opened her eyes only to find herself groaning. donny davis? seriously? this was beyond idiotic. she didn't want that cocky computer creep to watch her puke. he already had some sort of god complex, and seeing her a total mess wasn't going to help that. it was now her sole mission in life to find a way to kick this guy off of his high horse because this was plain ridiculous. unless he was going to grow his hair out, dye it dirty blonde, find some boobs, and change his name to josephine, this wasn't a helping hand she was ever going to be willing to accept. she didn't need his help, or his pity. pity was for fools.

he said something again, some other nice guy line. this was not genuine, it rolled off of him like a rehearsed line, or at least that was all she saw in her state. she was about to reject it before she closed her eyes and just nodded. water sounded good. yeah, she wanted some water. and she kind of wanted to go to sleep, preferably somewhere warm. the bathroom was cold, or maybe it was just the linoleum floor she was sprawled out on in a dress. she was still in some sort of post-puking daze. but this was all totally ridiculous. she didn't need his help, she could find her way back to the inferno. just look for some bright lights and the sound of people losing their dignity and voila! she's home. or she could fall asleep in some alleyway, it wasn't like it would be the first time she's done something like that. "y'know..." she slurred between shallow breaths. no, annunciate your words, sylvia, "we aren't friends." she said plainly, still with her eyes closed. her skin was sickly yellow, borderline green. it was clashing awfully with her clothes. she took one of her hands up to wipe her mouth. nothing was there, but she was feeling paranoid that there was ugly upchuck drenched across the front of her. "you don't have to pretend to care," she added simply. he was probably here with some expensive "escort" and was making her wait on him before they could go do a dirty deed back in that brothel he called a house. well, don't mind syl. she didn't need his help, or his friendship, or anything from him at all. she didn't want it. syl was used to nobody caring, she craved the bitter coldness between her and another human being because it said to her that the world was normal, that she was still alive because she still had zero fans. all this frosting donny was laying out on the cake of... oh god, cake? she threw herself over the toilet again and threw up for the last time. slowly she pulled herself back against the stall, "last one, i promise," she muttered bitterly.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)1,727 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) hurrah! (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ The girl he was chatting up was probably going to start wondering where he was. Whatever, girl could wait. Now was what Donny was doing sympathy? Not really. To be perfectly honest, part of Donny probably really enjoyed seeing Syl Rivers like this. Not so high and mighty now. But honestly? He knew what happened to girls passed out in the mens bathroom at bars. He wasn't a sadist. The small blonde reminded him too much of the people in his life that meant the most. Widow's vanity, Liz's self hatred, his intelligence, Kale's disregard for self preservation and Orion's cold stare, Liv's fierceness. Although, the similarities between Syl and Liv would be a very short list. Two completely different human beings in Donny's mind. Self preservation was never a problem Donny had maintaining. All the people who had ever hurt him, all the pain he had in his life he channelled into his work. Maybe that was a reason he got to be so damn good. But he could not let them win. The only time he got close to being the type of person who would be vomiting pathetically next to the girl was when Isabel was killed.

------ That was a pain he felt he could not live with. His work suffered too. He had not left his room for weeks. Andie had been there, trying desperately to get him to eat something and stop drinking. She must have taken five hundred bags of recycling out during those weeks. When he first got the news, when he first saw the picture of Iz's body on it's side, blood coming out from his little sister's lips, it had seemed like the last straw for him. At least Syl had enough motivation to get out of bed to drink, he had gotten into the habit of sleeping with his bottle of whiskey. If you asked him what had pulled him out of his depression, Donny could not give you a straight answer. Perhaps it was that Andromeda hadn't given up on him and taken his shit, his yelling, his half assed attempts at his life. Perhaps it was realizing someone else was in danger, a young girl. Perhaps it was realizing the bastards that killed her were still running around happily after completing their assignment. Or maybe it had run it's course and had been time for him to continue on with his life. Somehow, he knew he had not truly finished dealing with her death. Deep down he knew he hadn't dealt with it when he shot those men, he had not dealt with it when he woke up one morning and made Andie breakfast, he had not dealt with it by partaking in completing Isabel's bucket list with Liv, or by sleeping with Liv, Iz's best friend. And he certainly hadn't dealt with it by diving into his Heyward alter ego so deeply for the past five years.

------ Donny thought as soon as he saw those bastards die he would have felt better but he didn't. He never regretted it though. Most people, no matter who they are, have some sort of feeling in their first kill. The first time they pull that trigger while pointing it at someone's head. Donny hadn't. He had not felt a thing. No guilt. It was not that the guilt was hidden deep down past the grief or anger or cockiness, no, he literally felt nothing from killing those men. All he felt was that it was one less thing to do on his own bucket list. But like Sylvia Rivers, Donny did not like to discuss such things. He preferred to respected over pitied. And perhaps that was the real reason he woke up from his funk. The blonde was apparently not there yet as there she was in a bathroom stall at Bare, so wasted she couldn't hold it down, looking not nearly as attractive as she had when he had seen her last. Not that it mattered much. Maybe to her but Donny couldn't give a damn. He was not offering to help her out of personal care about her, more care for his fellow human being if that made any sense coming from someone like him. He wasn't the type to leave someone behind so vulnerable and whether she saw it like that or not, whether she liked it or not, being in that state in a bathroom stall in a men's room at a place like Bare was incredibly vulnerable.

------ Donny sighed as opened her mouth to speak. God damn, what now? "y'know, we aren't friends." Donny shook his head slightly and chuckled glancing down at the floor. "Yeah Syl, kind of knew that already." He said amused, "You see, most of my friends wouldn't be caught dead puking their guts out in a stall hardly able to control themselves. They're a little less pathetic." He added, just stating a fact... sort of. Wid sometimes got like this, but it was rare. Liz had grown out of it, Kale never let himself get like this because he wouldn't be able to have good sex or attract a woman, Orion.... well, know that he thought of it, Orion didn't really drink. Maggie would get drunk, but never this. She was too much in control of herself and her actions, too alert and sharp to let herself be destroyed by something as weak as a 40 proof. "you don't have to pretend to care," Donny exhaled annoyed, "Syl, I wouldn't even bother pretending with you, now get up." Donny replied honestly. He reached down for her hand when she replied by turning around and puking again. "You are so attractive right now it's astounding." He grimaced slightly through ironic words as she leaned back against the stall looking sick. Little known fact about Donny, while he had gotten better in the past five years, Donny was a very clean human being. Never skipped a shower or brushing his teeth. Kept everything dusted, hated food stuck on dishes. He liked things clean. Probably why he had never had a skin issue even during his awkward teenage years. His skin was always flawless.

------ The infamous hacker leaned down and helped pull her up to her feet, not caring if she protested. "Come on, time to avoid some drunk neanderthal from raping the passed out blonde in the bathroom." He threw her arm around his neck, which was a bit difficult, he was a lot taller than her. He walked out of the bathroom, supporting her as best he could without literally knocking her out and carrying her over his shoulder. Oh if life could only be that simple. He leaned Syl against the counter and looked up at the bartender, "Water please, over here." He asked pointing down at the sickly girl, before he turned as Jessica, the girl he had been chatting up came over to them, "What's going on?" She asked, giving Syl the eye. Donny cleared his throat and sighed, "Ran into someone I knew trying to play the victim." He said nodding at Syl. He looked over at her as the bartender put the water down on the bar next to her. Donny pointed to it looking at Syl, hoping she would drink it willingly. He looked back at Jess, "Look, I think I'm gonna take this one home." The pretty blonde, the one that wasn't just vomiting in the bathroom nodded and glanced at Syl again before looking up at Donny, "Sure, but I will expect to see you again." She said with a smile before putting her hands on his arms and leaning up to kiss him. "You bet." Donny replied as she walked away. Yeah, she probably wouldn't. She could have been fun for a night but too dull to be more so. He was pretty set without her. He turned back to Syl and groaned, "Did you drink the water yet, or do I have to force it down your throat?"</sub>

••• ---------------------------------------------------------------------- •••

TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; soooo late, sorry

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---THE IDEA OF BEING SAFE AND SOUND WAS A MYTH. syl had little sense of self-preservation or regard for her personal well being. she didn't care, it was that simple. and still, even with that mentality, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt "safe and sound." with her parents, maybe. she wasn't the type to reminisce. nobody knew about syl rivers' past, nobody really knew where she'd came from aside from that her and joey had been exiled from vegas. before then? it was a mystery, and syl liked to keep it that way. while she was at peace with her past, it was something she'd like to be forgotten. those memories were not happy ones; they were tainted with blood and sin. all her memories were corrupt with some inescapable darkness, a tar that burned her flesh and never healed, remaining raw for all time and eternity, immortalizing her broken body as an example to the rest. but no matter the effects now or how much she forced herself to not think about it... it never changed the fact that she had a past, a childhood, a family. but she hadn't felt safe in years, not since the day she became the person she was today. she never had this feeling of security, that there was nothing that was going to hurt her. even with joey around, that feeling was gone, nonexistent. there were those few memories though. she could still remember the indian sun on her pale skin, the dust that would cake her body after running around all day, the way her blue eyes would meet every pair of brown ones, the colorful clothing, the freshness of the food. the small things were still there, the things that reminded her what a normal life was like, what it felt like to be... happy. to have a home.

she didn't have a home anymore.

the sun had set on her happy days long ago. whatever safety her existence once possessed had been blown away by a breath of cold air. she didn't think about any of it anymore, though. happiness was a chapter in her life that had been written, read, and forgotten. it wasn't that she was miserable, but she'd been sucked dry of the few pleasures she got out of life. she was a zombie, destined to aimlessly stumble through the darkness of her life until somebody was merciful enough to take a gun to her head. she didn't have somebody like that though, nobody who would bloody their own hands to wash away her own scarlet stained soul. but then again, she didn't want somebody like that in her life, somebody she would have to owe everything to, somebody she would be obligated to care about because they cared about her. suffering in silence was a desolate, bleak path to walk, but it was the only path syl could see herself on. she couldn't picture herself with perfectly curled hair, a steady career, attractive husband, pretty house in the suburbs, a white picket fence, two point five children, and maybe a yellow lab. that was the most unrealistic thing in the world for her to imagine. she was cursed to be at this stand still for the rest of her pathetic life. there was no improving from here; she would probably die alone in her closet from alcohol poisoning. nobody would got to her funeral, if anybody cared enough to give her one in the first place, and her tomb stone may as well read "fallen and forgotten." because that was what she was, fallen and forgotten.

humanity didn't pity people like syl. most of the bystanders in her life probably didn't even think of her as a human being. she was so cold, so disconnected from the world, that somebody like her must not have feelings, must not have a past, and must not have a future. syl didn't hold it against anybody though, she hardly deserved a savior. but was it so bad to close her eyes, and wish for just a moment, she could be back in bombay, sitting on her front porch, and letting the sun roast her ashen skin? was it so unbelievable for somebody like sylvia rivers to wish for happiness or normalcy? she didn't, not often, but sometimes she did close her eyes and imagine she was home again, that nothing had ever changed, that she was ten years old again. maybe for a second, she wished she had somebody to have this desire to keep her safe, somebody who was willing to defend her against the storm life was going to send her into without a sail. somebody who was able to keep her safe and sound, who was willing to take a fall for her. was that so incredible? that the self-proclaimed ice queen herself desired some human companionship? but that wasn't the case. her safety bled out, whatever humanity she was clutching to was torn away. all that was left were some broken bones and shattered diamonds. nobody was left to pick up the pieces, because everybody left. she was self-destructive, and she sent people running for the hills. nobody would take a shattered diamond intertwined with coal to a sparkling, whole one.

nights like this was when she wished she was different, somebody who could have been likable in another dimension, somebody her family wouldn't have walked away from. it was her own fault she was free falling into an abyss that led straight to hades himself. she wouldn't deny her vices, but she was going to acknowledge her virtues too, except when hurling over a men's toilet, they were a little harder to think of. she hated this, and she hated donny, and most of all, she was beginning to hate herself. when did she become so pathetic? so soft? she wasn't sure, but she didn't like it, regardless of the timing. her blued eyes froze over as she glared at the cocky computer geek gone nice guy. he made some wise crack about her being pathetic, "good one, because you're the first person to tell me that. very original," she could hear the slight rasp in her voice as she looked anywhere but at him. this was stupid, so stupid that she couldn't even think of a better word to describe it. she kind of wanted to go to sleep, or maybe wake up and realize this was just some tormenting nightmare. maybe when she opened her eyes again, the sun would rise again, the morning light would shine through the fog. it didn't seem likely, but her sun set long ago, and maybe if she closed her eyes long enough, when they opened something would be different. her eyelids grew heavier as she considered the idea.

too bad donny was ruining her plan. if she were alone, she would go to sleep. she was really tired. "you're right. i care what you think." she replied dryly. he was so intelligent; convincing himself she had some desire to appear attractive to him. or to anybody. right. she couldn't give a flying fuck what donald davis thought about her. she didn't care what any of these people thought about her, because quite frankly, they would dislike every aspect of her, why give them one redeeming trait? that seemed stupid. he proceeded to try and help her up, and she mumbled something she wasn't even sure of, wanting to fall over and die. this couldn't be happening; she couldn't have been reduced to such a waste that this was her last resort, that he felt this need to help her out. "don't touch me," she snarled briefly, trying to push away from him, but feeling too weak to really fight back and just went with it. if there was any other option right now, she would take it. she didn't think she hated anybody more than she hated donny in that moment. she couldn't help but roll her eyes when he talked about her being raped. one, that was taking this a little too far. she didn't like those words. but second, why did he care? "how cute, you care about what happens to me more than i do," it was true. syl was past the point of caring. had somebody wandered into that stall looking for somebody to shoot, she wouldn't have cared if she ended up being the lucky winner.

she stumbled along as he dragged her to the bar. what, was he going to give her more alcohol? maybe he was trying to kill her. oh well, she was too tired to care. bring it on, bitch. he asked for water though, and syl groaned internally, "not going to help," she tried to protest, vaguely aware of the condescending looks she was getting. oh come on people, they had seen worse, and she knew they had, because she had seen much worse. she heard donny talking, but decided to ignore him. it took her a few moments to register that she wasn't the object of his conversation. he told his little play thing she was trying to play victim. did he want her to hate him? because he was succeeding, "fuck you," she snapped, glaring at him. it was sincere too, he was bothering her. that was crossing the line, telling people she was trying to play the victim. like hell she was. he could go drown himself a vat of fiery acid for all she cared. this was her life, and if he had a problem with it, he could leave her where she stood. she didn't care if she ever saw him again. victim. what an ass. he was a hypocrite, trying to play the good guy while stomping on every nerve syl had. she heard the other girl excuse herself. she'd been blatantly ignoring her the whole time, "toodles sweetheart! you can have my sloppy leftovers next weekend!" she hated people, especially preppy, two-face, generic girls. donny had a real talent at picking them, didn't he? donny said something about the water she hadn't even noticed was there. syl grinned, or she thought she grinned. it looked more like a twisted sneer. she picked up the water and poured it onto the floor right in front of them, "oops, i missed. i'm such a victim, i can barely figure out where my mouth is." her voice reeked of sarcasm, her eyes lit up.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)1,746 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) a little weird on the emotion there. (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ You want to know the real reason Donny was able to get under Syl's skin far easier than she could get under his? The answer, to Donny at least, was shockingly simple. As it was clear from this charming display tonight, Sylvia Rivers did not like herself very much. Donny did. No, he didn't like Syl much but he really did like who he was. He did not like who he used to be. He liked that he was smart and he knew he was smart. He knew he was attractive, he liked that he was. He didn't think of himself as an adonis or greek god that women were willing to be turned into sheep for, but he knew that compared to his old look, he was more refined now in appearance. He no longer felt that he needed to let a girl walk all over him to get any attention from them. He now knew he was better than that. He was now who had always wanted to be before. Was he the smartest man on earth? Of course not, although it felt like that at times. But there was always going to be a person who is smarter than you, faster, funnier, more charming, more attractive, more powerful... more... more everything. There was no use fretting over it. There was also no use not trying to be your best. The petite blonde barely able to walk on her own was not her best. Donny had to wonder what type of a tycoon she would be, were she to actually give a damn about something other than this facade of self confidence she had built up on a house of cards, ready to collapse at any moment.

------ Despite everything, Donny was relatively well-adjusted. Well... well adjusted relative to the other Sirens and other criminals and definitely to Syl Rivers. He would drink and have fun, but kept in control of himself the whole time. He always thought before he spoke. He didn't damage his system through excessive anything. That being said, compared to the average person, or citizen, there was no real way to compare. The boy was damaged. His self worth was built on the ability to ruin lives with key strokes. He didn't blink when he pulled the trigger on the two men that killed his sister, or the man who was attacking Kale in Milan. No guilt. He had a hard time letting anyone new see him for who he was. He couldn't talk about his sister without getting so angry that he had to leave the room before destroying the place. He couldn't cry. He couldn't fall in love, at least not that he knew of. I guess he had no real control over that, no one did. Which was why he was not out looking for it. It was why one nighters and casual flings were the best anyone got from him lately. He was a good guy in comparison with the other criminals in the world, excluding the thief stealing food for their starving family, or the people like John Q, pushed over the edge because their son was dying and no one would help them. But being a good guy by comparison was not exactly a winning phrase on a resume. Could he go back? Could he let Heyward dye and find a real job that paid well and continue his life as a model citizen? Of course he could. He chose not to, he actively chose not to. He would be too fucking bored. It's not like he needed the money anymore.

------ So far on the trek out of the men's bathroom up to the bar, Donny had just ignored all of Syl's rambling bitchiness. A roll of the eyes was mostly the response she received from him. He got it, she didn't like him. Did she really think he was her biggest fan? He recognized she was physically pleasing, and getting her pissed off was kind of fun when she was sober, she was fun to play with. But other than that she was more than kind of a major pill. He dealt with a lot of ridiculous people who hated themselves. Widow sprung to mind. Wid was a different kind of self hatred. With Widow it wasn't the type of hatred that caused her to drown herself in booze. Wid's was the kind where she forced herself to not eat much. She ate just enough to get by without loosing hair. She was the quiet hatred that stared at herself in a mirror pinching skin and pulling at the skin around her eyes until someone walked in and she would pretend to be admiring her ass. Kale was... I mean... Okay, Donny didn't know much about Kale. He was self destructive when it came to his work, reckless, but honestly? Donny attributed that to Kale just being crazy, didn't matter much else. Kale was always a hard read.

------ Donny watched the girl leave before turning back to the drunkard on the stool as she yelled after her. "toodles sweetheart! you can have my sloppy leftovers next weekend!" Donny shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment during a smirk. This girl was too much. He lifted his head back up to her, "Sloppy leftovers?" He repeated her words raising an eyebrow, "Now, Sylvia, you sure you want people thinking you've slept with me?" He asked jokingly. Although, maybe it was him that didn't want people thinking he slept with the classy lady in front of him... hmm... not really. He doubted anyone cared enough to make any sort of true judgement on him or Syl, lord knows he didn't care about the other people in the club or their sex lives and drunken nightly affairs. Donny's eyes followed the water as she poured it onto the floor. "oops, i missed. i'm such a victim, i can barely figure out where my mouth is." He exhaled a bit and looked back at her, gave a small smile, "Why do you insist on doing things the hard way?" He asked as he snatched the glass from her hands and placed it back on the counter, sliding it to the bartender, "You got a rag?" He asked the man who tossed him one. He dropped it onto of the spill and pressed down on the spill with his foot before he picked it up and traded it with the bartender who handed him the glass again with water.

------ Donny looked at Syl and held it as if he were going to hand it to her but instead tossed about half the water from the glass into her face before setting the glass back down for the bartender to take. He looked back at Syl. It really was not a lot of water, just enough for the face, her hair was still dry "I said you were playing the victim, not that you were one." Donny said plainly before shaking his head and handing her a few napkins, "And you were going to have the water one way or another." He added before handing her his jacket from the stool. "Let's get you home so this night can be over shall we?" And yeah, the only reason he handed her his jacket was because it was going to be cold if you're wet.</sub>

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TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; hope that's okay, only response I saw from him

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---THE SHADOWS HAD BEEN CLOSING IN FOR YEARS NOW. she sincerely hadn't noticed, maybe she had been in denial. she'd thought she was okay, but to fall apart so easily? for the entire tapestry to unravel because one thread frayed? there was no way she had been as okay as she thought she was. these ghosts had been silently stalking her every move since she was a scared, inexperienced fifteen year old girl sitting in a police station. they had been glued to her, a permanent part of her very being. she couldn't escape it, and maybe she thought she could, maybe she'd convinced herself of it, but it didn't make it anymore true. it was amazing how easily she'd forgotten it all, how wholly she had convinced herself she was over everything, that nothing could hurt her. she thought she was invincible, and even in the state she was in now, she still thought she was invincible. it was hard to admit, and she never would out loud or even directly inside her head, but her light had been put out a long time ago. she had been running for years, and her astounding stamina had finally died out. she was out of breath, her lungs were burning, her muscles were fatigued, and she was ready to stop running, because she had nowhere to run and no one to run to anymore. it was easier to just let the shadows catch up finally. everybody had to face their demons at some point, and to either defeat them or be defeated. syl had that choice; fight or flight. she could wrestle them away tooth and nail and become a stepford house wife. it didn't seem likely, but if it was what she wanted, she could do it. maybe, she wasn't very confident in her ability to be normal. she probably had no ability to be normal. she could lie down and let them win though; she could let the shadows win. so which would it be, fight or flight? stand her ground, or give it up?

maybe she would just sit, watch, and see what would happen.

she'd lost all her energy to fight. but she wasn't quite ready to give up. as much as syl may have loathed the way things had ended up, she was still in love with herself, she loved the idea of who she was, the person she had been and probably would be again. she was resilient. come what may, all the troubles following her, a black past tarring itself to her skin, inescapable... but even with all of that, she would get better with time. she would adjust and come to terms with her loneliness. she would get over it, and realize she was okay, or convince herself of it like the last time. she'd stop drinking as much, sobering up a little. she would function normally, get back into her business, and fly again. it was just odd for her to be alone, completely alone. she never had been, as weird as it may sound for a full grown twenty-three year old woman. but she hadn't. as a child she always had her family, and after three of them were eliminated, she always had joey. and then she met bella, and she grew on her too. so she had them, and now they were both gone. for different reasons, but gone nonetheless. it may have seemed stupid to somebody else, how much it tore her up that joey was gone. she was an adult; she could take care of herself. syl had heard it all, but they had always been so close. they were the closest siblings syl had ever seen, and they went through a hell of a lot together. they basically raised each other, and they were so close in age. but regardless, joey was still her little sister. syl had always felt obligated to take care of her, especially after her parents were gone. the majority of the things she did were because she thought they'd be good for joey. selfish as she may be, the blonde was extraordinarily selfless when it came to her younger sister. she would have taken a bullet for that girl.


it was no longer even worth it to look outside her window. the war was raging on and on, the destructive fires enveloping the entire world, all walks of life, everything but her memories. she was watching it all burn to the ground as the sun set, but no matter how much was destroyed, or how long it felt like the fire had been going, it never went out. and the sun never went down. she was stranded in some sort of miserable limbo where nothing got better, only worse. maybe it wasn't limbo, maybe it was hell. syl could admit she was on a downward spiral. she knew she was free falling into an abyss that would take her months to crawl out of, but she simply didn't care. she'd been in worse situations than this, in worse shape. this wasn't the first time she found herself in a drunken stupor, and at least she was wearing her own clothes this time. back in boston she'd been wearing an outfit she wasn't even sure how she came across. it hadn't been hers though, that was for sure. at least she was wearing her own little green dress and she was well aware she was in valkyrie. she couldn't remember the club name, but she'd often wandered into some places and not known the name of it. so this really wasn't a horrible situation. it was just the appearance of donald davis that was making it horrible. if she hadn't have eaten that damn devil's food cake she would be a-okay right now, hammering away at her alcohol like she had nothing left to live for. tomorrow she might have to take a break from the all too familiar poison, though. her liver was screaming in protest, and so was her ashen complexion. she needed a recuperation day for the sake of her body, otherwise she wouldn't even think of it. it was too bad humans were able to tolerate too much grey goose. it'd make life better if her liver had been made of steel.

she drummed her boney fingers along the counter restlessly; wishing to whatever divine being there was above that donny would be struck with lightning and die right in front of her. she wasn't capable of killing him herself. temperamental as she may be with her fists, she wasn't the one who took guns to people's heads. she didn't even own a gun. she had a brain, why did she need a weapon? "please, donald," she muttered tiredly, as if he was the biggest moron in the world, "like i have a reputation to uphold. i'm just trying to scar yours." she gave him a look that said isn't it obvious before directing her attention elsewhere. she really didn't like donny. she'd never had somebody she kind of knew but mostly didn't around to see her vulnerable. the last time she'd been this drunk she was in a complete stupor, she couldn't even remember where she'd been, or what she'd done, but it was somewhere in a dingy texas bar with people she didn't know and never would see again. here in valkyrie she had acquaintances. it was weird to have somebody know her and try to take her wasted ass out of a club for any reason other than to sleep with her. yes, the lifestyle sounded unhealthy, but she wasn't a total pig. she had standards. they were just blurred at the moment. but so was her vision, so what the hell. why not go out with a crash. she wanted to get totaled, not just rear ended. she wanted to crash and burn to the ground. this was an all or nothing sort of thing. syl wasn't the type to halfass anything. whatever decision she made, she committed to it. this was no different. her silvery eyes watched donny as he grabbed a rag and wiped up her mess. wasn't he a good samaritan? an angel sent from heaven? too bad she would prefer the devil any day. at least he was just going to accept her for what she was. she didn't need saving or fixing. she didn't need any of donny's damn help.

pursing her lips as he got the other water glass, she watched his hand. she didn't expect him to throw it in her face, though she couldn't deny that the idea had crossed her mind. she squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she felt the water on her face, leaving them closed as he spoke. she hadn't been this emotional in a long, long time. months. since joey left. since their fight. it made her even more irritable to relate herself back to that. she could feel her normally colorless cheeks flushing, the heat spreading throughout her body. her fists balled up and she had the overwhelming desire to hit him, but refrained. there were too many witnesses. she took in a few ragged breaths, feeling a little dizzy. finally she opened her eyes and met his directly, "you say that as if it were the better option," she was swallowing the metallic taste on her tongue. there were a million things she'd like to say to him, but refused. he didn't deserve a damn reaction out of her. she'd been face with people who wanted to provoke her her entire life, and she wasn't about to let donny succeed. not this time. she would much rather be a victim than play a victim. at least the former didn't have a choice. the latter was willingly groveling and pathetic, kissing the ground their savior walked on. syl abhorred the very idea. she grudgingly took his jacket and spun around off the stool without waiting for him. she tried her best to keep her balance, but lost her footing every few steps. she was livid. she stumbled past a girl wearing hardly any clothes and syl smirked at her, "here honey, you look cold," she shoved his jacked into the unsuspecting girls hands before heading towards the exit. she didn't care if donny was following. he could go to hell. she wandered out the door and turned around a few times. god, she had no idea where she was. maybe it was because it was dark... or she'd never been to this part of town. damn. her head was beginning to hurt, and she moved one hand toward it as she slowly moved the wall and slid down it, sitting against it with her hands over her eyes. she could hear somebody walk out next to her. she assumed it was donny, "i don't know where we are," she groaned miserably. this was pathetic.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)1,825 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) yay. (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ Syl Rivers had to be one of the more interesting things going on in his life right now. I mean, many would argue his whole non-family family drama was pretty interesting too but honestly, to him it was just one big soap opera. It had him feeling like a little nervous kid again. It confused him. Did he want their approval? Did he not care? And honestly, one of the hardest things for him to think about and handle was now he knew he was conceived during rape. It's just, he knew how badly raped screwed with a person's head. He had seen it's affects on Liz and Widow. He understood, as well as a person who had never been raped could, how horrible rape truly was and to know that he was only created because of something so evil... I don't know. It was messing with his head a bit. He just tried to ignore it. He didn't want to sound pathetic. One thing was for sure. Orion had sort of saved his ass when Donny's new half sister Carly came by the siren house. Orion was always the sane one. Widow and Kale probably would have freaked her a bit. Although, Donny understood why Widow was so on edge around Carly. Widow and him were very close. Widow knew how to read donny even better than Kale. She seemed to know Donny's emotion better than he did. Kale on the other hand? Kale hadn't been mean or bitchy to Carly, like Wid, Kale was just sad because he couldn't hit on the poor girl.

------ Nothing related was sort of a rule of their friendship. he knew he wasn't allowed to hit on anyone related to Donny. Just like Donny would never hit on anyone related to Kale although, thinking about it. Donny did not really think Kale was related to anyone. Be an interesting thing to learn though. After all, just look at Kale. Donny really didn't know much at all about Kale actually. Kale knew Donny was Heyward but Donny did not have a clue who Kale was. Every time he saw him when they were younger, Kale had a different name. When they met, kale was a boy named Harrington Chaucer. Yeah, Donny thought it was a funny name too and was not surprised at all when he found out it was a fake name. Harry, as Donny called him then, was psychotic for a 17 year old. Loud, funny, and he could do one thing, Donny was horrible at, talk to women. At 17 Harry had already been with multiple women. And boy did he enjoy it. Donny still preferred the idea of really loving a girl before fucking her, at least at that time, we already have covered how much Donny's love life has changed since he was a teenager. He was still an innocent then, despite everything. Harry was also in the crime world, he was known around the crime circles as Basher. He was a munitions expert for hire. Got along with Kenny too, Kale Harry got along with everyone then.

------ One night though was what really started their friendship. During a raid, Donny tagged along with Basher who was going to go do his job with the sirens. But got stuck in the mess after Basher rigged it. Donny was almost blown to bits that night. His father saw and just turned away, giving him a small, almost jokative salute before he kept running. Basher was the one who risked the timing, went back in and got Donny out of there. Donny owed the basher, Kale Barker, his life. You do not forget it when your father leaves you to die with a amusement and a practical stranger at the time, runs back to save you. That night really was the best example of what type of man Donny grew up with as a father figure. It wasn't much of one. By that age though, Donny had grown so used to it, he had not been surprised at all his father left him. He would have been surprised if his father had returned. No, but the amused salute? That was what really pissed Donny off. After that night, Donny had lost all care about gaining dear ol' dad's approval. It all of a sudden became all about him getting as powerful as he could, and as famous as he could to prove to himself he was better than anything his father could achieve. And one day, when his father was lying on his death bed, he would tell him. He would let his dad know, that he had among him one of the best hackers the world had ever seen, next to him for years. Holding back and surpassing him in secret so the man wouldn't earn a damn penny. It was a day Donny looked forward to.

------ Right now though, he had other things to think about, like finding a way to get the drunk blonde thing home. "like i have a reputation to uphold. i'm just trying to scar yours." Donny couldn't help but laugh a bit at her statement. "Well, as long as you admit it, we're good." It was strange to see the girl who seemed so prideful and powerful the day before so... well, for lack of a better word, pathetic. He was getting a bit tired of it. He was trying to help someone who truly didn't want to be helped. It felt forced. Honestly, it was not about Donny caring about Syl, it really wasn't. It was about doing "the right thing" i guess. Donny made a career out of not doing the "right thing" but in his daily life, he seemed to like to be at least a half decent man. He pulled her onto her feet as she replied "you say that as if it were the better option," Donny shook his head, "No, both are bad." He began. "Victims are weak and allow themselves to be defeated" He explained half boredly as they maneuvered through the crowd on their way out of the club, "You are something far worse. You're strong enough to be a survivor but choose to be defeated." He added, his words less casual than his meaning and delivery of them. He doubted she could really hear him as she handed some girl his jacket which he grabbed back from her apologizing... not even married and he was still apologizing for some nutjob girl's bitchiness.

------ Once outside, Donny groaned in frustration as he heard her groan and slide down to the ground. "i don't know where we are," Donny scoffed slightly and shook his head. It really was kind of sad. "Okay.." He said plainly before leaning down and grabbing Syl off the ground, pulling her back onto her feet before bending down and lifting he over his shoulder with a small groan. He walked down the street keeping her on his shoulder, ignoring her practically as he waved for a taxi. He opened the door with one hand and sat her down into the back seat and shut the door, going around to the other side. Once in the car, he looked at Syl, "Where are you staying? Can you remember?" He asked her but when he didn't get a straight answer, he rolled his eyes and tilted his head back against the seat. "sir? I need a destination." spoke the cabby from up front. Donny groaned and nodded, running his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit, "Yeah okay, corner of prospect and webster." He replied, giving in and deciding Syl could just, sleep it off on the couch.</sub>

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TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; hope the GM's okay, if not I can change it. just wanted to keep things moving. If you want to GM him taking her into the house or something, that's fine with me.

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---MAYBE HER OPINION WAS SKEWED, but syl's definition of strong seemed to be quite different from that of donny's. she could hear perfectly well what he was saying. why was she bothering to pick his voice out of the crowd? she wasn't sure, but there it was, ringing in her head, his words heavy with semantics but spoken without a real care. she considered strength to be somebody who could be alive. that was it. be alive and stand their ground. she had watched a lot of people she loved die, or leave. and yet here she still was, normal as ever... just a little more intoxicated. but she didn't leave, she was still in the same god forsaken tourist attraction that she had a sinking feeling would be the site of her death. she was a survivor, she had been for years. but how could somebody walk onwards when they were covered with open wounds and bruises? she was bleeding out, every scarlet drop running a little faster than the one before it. survivors could only hold on for so long before the past caught up to them and finished what it had started. syl considered herself a survivor, but she wasn't healed. she had never healed. so maybe that made her more of a floater, dealing with the bare minimum she could at the moment before recycling the emotions and moving onto the next problem. it wasn't even about strength. strength wasn't the answer, it wasn't a clear solution like the idiot following her made it sound. the real issue was how much she cared. and the thing was - she didn't. syl rivers didn't care, and when she didn't care, why exert the effort to impress? or always portray a confidence that is only a shamble? she didn't care what these under aged clubbers thought, and she didn't care what donny thought. the only people she cared about had vanished one by one over the years, and all the people left weren't on the top of her list of individuals she'd like to impress. had she cared what somebody like donny davis thought, she would have held her alcohol and maybe dressed a little better and done something provocative to leave him wanting more. but did she care? the answer was simple. no. she couldn't have cared less than she did in that moment.

in some ways, syl didn't know how to care anymore. she was so detached from her humanity that she couldn't reconnect to the way that was considered the cultural norm to act. she wasn't sure how to be this enviable person anymore, or somebody people found worth their time and money. she didn't know how to love her life, but she hadn't known how to do that for a long time. love itself was a foreign concept to her because there was nobody left that she loved, or at least she would admit to loving. love was across the border of her familiarity boundaries. she couldn't see herself falling into some happily ever after with charming young man in a pretty suburban house. it wasn't even conceivable, the mere idea of such an emotion didn't make sense. love was irrational. it made people care too much, and from somebody who didn’t care at all, she wasn't even compatible to find it. she was numb to almost everything. it was partially self-discipline, and partially alcohol. but the feelings didn't touch her. the icy blonde's heart was frozen over, the blood no longer flowed through it, and it was too cold to beat properly. the ice was slowly flowing through her veins and freezing her entire body. soon enough she'd be invincible, because nothing would affect her, nothing would ever touch her again. maybe that seemed pathetic to some people, but she considered herself strong to even find herself so detached from society. it took real effort to fall away from one's own species. it wasn't like she'd woken up like this one day, and it wasn't like she'd fallen into her wintry stupor against her will. she had chosen this path. when she'd come to the crossroads where one road led to a shining green valley, and the other into the black fog of winter, she'd chosen the latter. a charmed life held no meaning for her. maybe it was nihilistic, or just plain unrealistic, but she'd convinced herself this was her life, and this was her choice. syl was buried so deeply in the ground that there was no way she would ever be able to dig herself out. the only thing left to do was adapt without the sun.

she had chosen not to respond to donny, because it was emotionally draining to even have a conversation about this. she didn't know how to express herself properly, and quite frankly, did somebody like donny really deserve an explanation? no. he didn't. he wasn't her friend, or ally, or anything of particular significance. he was just some arrogant asshat who had a taste for meaningless flings and was married to a computer. he wasn't even worth her time or effort. and she was well aware of the fact that she wasn't worth his, so why was he being so persistent? did he have some moral compass that wouldn't let him leave her alone? sure, she was a little pathetic and sloppy, but it didn't bother her, so why on earth did it bother him? he was playing the chivalry card, treating her like some damsel in distress, and if there was anything that upset syl, it was being treated like a pathetic waste of space. if he thought of her that way, he should walk away from the situation. she wasn't asking for his help. she was somebody who was lost and didn't really want to be found. syl had been wandering through the darkness for a long time, and she would continue to wander through it. she embraced the black mist whole heartedly, letting it envelop her mind and body. she wasn't looking for a light. she wasn't broken, and she didn't need to be fixed. she was alone, and she didn't want company. maybe it was pure stubbornness that propelled her motives forward, but regardless, it left her feeling bitter about her heroic rescuer. donny wasn't giving up though, because he obviously thought he had some sixth supernatural sense of danger or just plain evil omens, and syl was going to be the victim of one. well did he ever consider the fact that she probably deserved whatever was coming to her? as in love with herself as the girl was, she knew she was going have to pay for her transgressions one day. she knew she wasn't a good person, and karma was a bitch. it was only a matter of time before it came back to kick her ass. that or maybe this was karma's idea of payback.

vaguely she noticed donny lean over and pick her up. she wiggled a bit at first, feeling uncomfortable, but then her head began to spin and she decided to focus on not throwing up all over his back. the guy would probably challenge her to a duel to the death or something if that happened. so she allowed herself to be moved around like a drugged up trollop. she was too busy concentrating on remaining upchuck-free when he lowered her into a cab. she hated cabs. he asked her some question, but she was tired, and she couldn't think. so instead of responding she leaned her forehead against the cold window, and watched the sidewalk pass by her.it was moving fast, and it wasn't helping, so she closed her eyes. she heard donny giving the driver some sort of directions. if he said anything else after that, she wasn't aware, because the next time she opened her eyes she wasn't in the cab anymore, but instead her lanky arm was draped over donny's shoulder and he was leading her up to his house. she was a little confused at first, but instead of talking just closed her eyes again. the fight seemed to have run out of her. she was just so god damn tired that it didn't even seem worth it. "we're not doing it," she smiled briefly, her eyes still closed. the last time she was here she had been quite sober, more so than normal. she'd met donny for the first time, and he had seriously pissed her off. did the guy have to be so irritating? because it really didn't seem necessary that he acted like such a blatant child. or maybe he was seriously digging on her and had a second grade mentality where being annoying was code for a marriage proposal. the idea made her laugh to herself, hardly paying attention to whatever it was donny was up to. he had leaned her back against the door to unlock it before leading her inside the house. she wasn't really sure where she was going until she ended up on the couch. did she fall asleep again somewhere between the front door and the couch? probably. suddenly she noticed her feet were bare. she sat up, opening her eyes, "where did my shoes go?" she swung her feet and watched them, vaguely remembering them coming off when she made a run for the bathroom.

donny came into the room with a pillow and blanket, and she grabbed them reluctantly before resting her head on the pillow and pulling the blanket over her. damn it, was she cold. this was so surreal, in fact, she was convinced she was dreaming. pretty soon she would wake up in her suite at the inferno because the housekeeper would be banging on the door to come in and clean. "i think you overestimate me," she muttered with her eyes closed, lying on the couch, "because i'm not a person you think i should be." did that make sense? she thought it did, or at least it made enough sense to where he should understand, though she wasn't even sure he was still in the room. maybe he went back to find his blonde playmate, or went to bed, or was sitting across the room. regardless, she didn't feel like opening her eyes.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)1,723 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) hope that was okay? (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ The infamous hacker A.Heyward was currently pulling a wasted girl, from a taxi cab. A wasted girl he didn't know well, and he didn't know why he bothered. She wouldn't have bothered. He at least knew that. He was better than this. Donny opened the door on the other side of the taxi and before helping the practically unconscious syl rivers out of the back, he first reached forward and handed the cabby some money, telling him to keep the change before he threw Syl's rather limp arm over his shoulder as he helped her stand up... or sort of stand. Donny wasn't really much of a care giver or anything. He wasn't used to taking care of people. He was more the loner that didn't give a shit. It was probably why him and Widow got along the best out of the sirens in the house. Widow was more similar to Donny than anyone realized. On the surface, you wouldn't see much. Widow keeps her claws out way more often, she was probably more shallow than Donny. Although not by much anymore. The biggest difference was that Widow hated herself. But what they had in common? Widow was way smarter than she let on, Donny was a better hacker than he let people know. Widow stifled all emotion, positive or negative, stomped it down into a small cellar she could cover up with a throw rug. Donny did the same. And then they both decorated the upstairs with sarcasm and jokes.

------ Both cared about people but in a more hands off way, which was why Donny was unsure why he was helping out more than putting Syl in a cab. It was probably boredom. He grabbed Syl's arm a bit tighter to make sure she didn't slip as they grew closer to the Siren home. "we're not doing it," Donny heard the girl mumble. He laughed and shook his head as they approached the small amount of stairs that would bring them up to the porch, "Yeah, that's fine. I like my women with a pulse." He replied cooly as they moved up to the stars. He paused briefly looking at the door before he leaned Syl's back against the door, helping her not slid down to the floor with one arm as the other dug into his pockets for his keys. You see, Orion and Liz were different. Orion was like a pitbull when it came to protecting people. Now that he had been able to gain a personality and an identity, it seemed that protective was what came out of the brainless soldier he had once been. And whether Liz admitted it or not, she had a maternal instinct to her. A psychological need to make sure everyone she cared about was alright twenty-four seven. She had been the only one to make sure they stayed in contact over the five years while Wid and Donny were more: 'when we see each other, it'll be like no time passed, no need to keep contact.'

------ Liz's way was probably the better way to stay close but what the hell? Still, Liz would even try to take care of Kale when he burns himself. Not even Orion cares enough about that. Kale loves it, any attention from a girl, he's happy. Donny had told Liz a million times that Kale always gets hurt and that he always heals on his own, scars, etc. He'll be fine but Liz is stubborn. Donny pulled the keys from his pockets and leaned forward to unlock the door. He inserted the key and turned it when a small part of his keychain lit up. He entered a short code into the chain and the click of the unlock was heard. It was his own invention. To get into their house, you not only needed a key but a passcode that he changed every week, but the key worked to transmit the code from the special keychain to the lock inside the door. This way it looked like a regular door and key. People didn't have to know about the extra security. It worked surprisingly well. Donny pushed the door open after leaning Syl into his shoulder so she didn't fall as the door opened. Donny walked her inside and sat her down on the couch before going back and locking the door.

------ Kale was gone, Liz was at work, doing a late night planetarium show. Orion would be asleep, and Widow? Well who knows. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, leaving all four a text just in case they walk in to seeing Syl on the couch. He sighed and put the phone back in his pocket before walking over to Syl with a pillow and some blankets. "Jesus christ, it's like fucking babysitting without getting paid." He muttered under his breath, tossing the pillow at one end of the couch. He looked at Syl, "Your shoes are over by the wall. I grabbed them. Now lie back down." He replied. He walked over to the dining room to grab the mostly empty trash can. Donny dumped the remainder into the kitchen trash before putting the trashcan next to couch, and crouching down next to her "Just in case." He said with a shrug to the girl as she pulled the blanket over herself. He stood up straighter and yawned a bit making his way towards the hallway to go upstairs when he heard her speak again, "i think you overestimate me," Donny scrunched his eyebrows slightly, how much could he be over estimating her? "because i'm not a person you think i should be." Donny took a deep breath through his nose and stood at the entrance between the living room and the hallway for a moment just staring at the back of the couch. She was quiet, probably out for the night. "You underestimate yourself Syl." He said with a yawn, knowing she wouldn't have heard him if she was asleep before he made his way up to his room.

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------ Ahhh the morning. Liz had come home, slept and left again to get to her other job. Donny didn't get why she worked so hard, he offered to pay her part of the rent, but no, she seemed to want to do it the legal way. Her and Orion. Donny paid him and Wid, and sometimes Kale. Sort of. It wasn't really him paying, it was random taxpayers in the USA but still. Kale had returned and was now lying on the floor in his boxers with jeans around his ankles in the hallway. Widow was at class, Orion also at work. And once again it was Donny and Syl alone. Excluding Kale's passed out body but an actual siren wouldn't wake him up right now. Donny made his way into the kitchen and smiled, "Thank you Liz." He said to himself as he saw the coffee already made, keeping hot on it's stand. He walked over and pulled out a mug from one of the cabinets as he glanced outside to Silver in the backyard, running around. Donny took a drink of the coffee and glanced at the clock. it was almost 10am. He should probably get the small blonde girl off the couch but what the hell give her ten more minutes as he walked over to kitchen table where the laundry basket was. He put the mug down and sifted through the clean clothes looking for one of his t-shirts to throw on.</sub>

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TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; for the next morning, he's just wearing some jeans
NOTES;;

[sylvia ashton rivers]

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---SYLVIA RIVERS HATED THOSE PEOPLE who attributed everything that happened to them to some divine power, some force of nature, anything other than the fact that they themselves caused it. life wasn't anything more than what it seemed, and that was life. religion was a myth, something that hardly existed for a better reason than to get rich quick. it didn't determine what was going on in the world. bad things didn't happen because people had offended god, and good things didn't happen because they had pleased him. he wasn't real, and if he was, he obviously had some sick sense of humor with all the screwed up things that happened in the world. it was silly to put one's whole life into something they couldn't be sure existed. sure, there was the whole believing without seeing thing, the faith, but syl wasn't the type of person who could blindly throw her faith into something she had no way of knowing was true or not. she was going to take her life into her own hands because if religion had its way, she would have probably been burned at the stake already. and then there were the people who believed in reincarnation, that they were brought into their worldly status because of something they had done in their previous life, which was utterly obscene. syl couldn't handle the mythical fantasies. even a simple idea of karma was beyond her area of understanding. there was no such thing as fate and destiny. there was nothing that determined the way a life would turn out. fate was a sorry excuse for people to give up. syl hadn't given up because she believed it was her destiny to be a perpetually angry, washed up drunk. it was because she didn't care. if she had felt like some supernatural phenomena were pushing her in this direction, she would have fought it off tooth and nail. but that wasn't what was happening here, because she wasn't a paranormal believer or bible loving bigot. if she ever did fall into some sort of religion, shed go buddhism all the way, especially since it was less of a religion and more of a philosophy. when she was done with her alcoholic rampages, maybe she'd move back to india and join the hype.

india was one of the few things she missed in her life. this came from a woman who was a deserter, somebody who barely stayed in a place long enough to meet the neighbors. she hated settling down, and the fact that she was still hanging around valkyrie was a miracle in itself. but if she had to spend the rest of her life in one place, it would have been bombay. there was something about that place that captured the essence of everything good in her life, something that seemed to eternally preserve anything she had held dear to her. maybe she should go back, if not forever, than for a while. it would probably be refreshing, soothing, maybe it could begin the healing process she was starting to feel like she needed, although she'd never admit that out loud. the warmth of the sun seemed to be symbolic of everything warm in her life. it was different than this california sunshine too, rawer, almost. nothing had been wrong when she was there, and there was something about the culture that thawed the frozen shards of glass protecting her heart. when she was there, it felt like home. and maybe that was why she could never go back, because she couldn't taint it with this person she was now. aside from josephine, it was one of the last things she held dear to her. going back there in this state seemed selfish, because maybe it wouldn't help, it would only poison the memories, and then not only will she have lost joey, but she'll have lost her home, too. even syl was willing to admit she had crossed a line when somebody she disliked immensely felt obligated to transform into a knight in shining armor and drag her out of a club in a drunken haze. the very idea would have made the old syl rivers sick to her stomach. she would have thrown a fit, jumped in, and probably slapped this vodka harpy she'd become across the face and gotten her into gear so she was no longer an embarrassment to what she had been. the thing was, however, that syl just didn't care. she didn't care about this person she was, or this person she would be one day. none of that mattered, because what mattered in the moment was that she'd screwed up with the one person in this life who loved her. that was enough to make her give up.

adapting was a part of life, though. and one day, sooner or later, sylvia rivers was going to adapt. she would forget about joey, as bad as it sounded, because she would have to. she forgot about her parents and her brother after all, didn't she? she would do it this time too. the only difference was she was twenty three this time, and so she was of legal drinking age, whereas at fifteen she was faced with a choice of feeling the hurt, or coming to terms with it. this time she could click a simple "neither" option and drown herself in grey goose, and it was easier to do it. at some point, however, she was going to cross the line and be forced into remission and she'd get over it all, someway. it sounded hard at the moment, but syl was a professional at adapting. she was a survivor, and she'd continue to be one. one day she'd be an old woman living alone in bombay in some old victorian house and nobody will have known what had happened in her past because it will have all been forgotten. she was good at forgetting when she set her mind to it, and when she finally got around to it, the old syl would be revived and good to go, and she'd probably leave valkyrie. there was always a chance she might stick around though, considering it was the only place on this side of the world that she had any sort of connections with. there were a few friends or acquaintances lying around here and there, and the free inferno liquor was probably the biggest perk, so maybe even the old syl would stick around for a while longer. but that old fieriness would come back eventually, the strong person would be back, and she'd do her business again a little more efficiently. maybe she'd succeed at not punching her clients in the face because of her alcoholic haze. maybe it was time to force the drunk syl into submission and bring back the new one, but quite frankly, she wasn't quite willing to sober up and feel things sincerely, to actually face all the problems she had in their life, and to let them go, to bury them within the darkest recesses of her mind along with all the other bloodied black memories that she didn't care to confront ever again. it was a bittersweet feeling.

the night before was a blur to her. she remembered arriving at donny's house, and she remembered him surprising her by telling her he had grabbed her shoes, and that was about the extent of her memory from the previous night. she didn't remember saying anything else, or laying down, or falling asleep. in fact, while she remembered showing up at the house, she didn't remember how she'd gotten there, or why she was there. but the reason couldn't be good. her eyes groggily flickered open, and when she saw the unfamiliar ceilings, she rolled over and closed her eyes again, completely unaware of everything that had gone on the previous night. her arm swung down and hit the floor and she found herself completely awake and cringing, unable to keep a whimper from escaping her lips. her blue eyes traveled down to the hand she was now clutching to her chest. she'd forgotten about that. it was still bruised, even a little swollen. she should probably hit up the doctor later today. she knew the dirty little secret about the criminal doctors in valkyrie... allegra mancini and emmett salaris. she knew and she figured she could exchange favors for a quick heal. it was then that she started to recall where she was, and suddenly her hand didn't seem like a big deal. she could vaguely see a body passed out on the ground a ways away. this was donny's house. maybe he was a serious killer, because home boy over there looked like he was dead. had he roofied her? well, hopefully not. she was comfortably set up on the couch anyway, that was more of a maternal little thing to do. look at donny, getting his estrogen on. syl sat up quietly, her eyes wide open. she had a massive head ache, and she found her hand squeezing the bridge of her nose. she looked like a mess, but hey, at least she wasn't wasted anymore. her alcohol intake was pretty impressive. hangovers weren't a huge deal for her. she sat there for a moment, staring at her disheveled body, one of her hand feeling the top of her head and smoothing her hair down. she felt groggy, and quite frankly, she felt like she wanted to go home, to the inferno, anyway. she was tired, really tired.

slowly, she pushed herself off the couch, and started making her way towards the door, maybe if she were lucky she could sneak out without seeing donny, because lord knew he wasn't going to let her live this down without some sort of snarky remark or sassy comment. she thought about putting her shoes on, but instead just picked them up. just as her slender fingers were reaching for the doorknob, she heard footsteps behind her. turning around quickly, she gave a sheepish smile, "goodmorning," she mumbled, looked a little disgusted. with him or herself, she wasn't sure. maybe both, "thanks for the sloppy sex. but i think i'll pass next time," please, she knew they hadn't gotten their freak on last night, but she wasn't about to say thank you for rescuing her. even sober, it stood the same. she didn't need fixing, and she didn't need saving.

[/justify]

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(STATUS) finished. (TAGGED) syn <3 (WORDS)1,750 (OUTFIT) here. (COMMENTS) yay? (CREDITS) me, yo.

[/justify]

[donald jeremy davis]

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<sub>------ Perhaps the definition of 'reason' was different to the likes of Voltaire and Kant. Voltaire and Kant were both writers of the Enlightenment, men who rejected the strictly catholic and biblical world they had lived in previously. The emphasized that it was through science and reason real truth and morality would form from. Kant believed very strongly that if a human being embraced their natural capacity for reason, that morality would arise from that reason. True morality and not the "revealed truths" and the "divine rights of kings" that the church presented. Wonderful men, wonderful ideas but for them, reason had to be separate from logic. Genocide was logical in many instances, but did that make it moral? But really, the best examples Donny could think of, he knew personally. Himself, mainly. He was a very logical, scientific brained individual. He had no superstitions or faith. He was, what modern American society would call, a man who listened to his own voice of reason. And yet, very few people would called Donny a moral character. He had taken vengence in the form or murder, robbed millions from businesses and the american taxpayers, ruined lives, gotten people thrown into prison, released from prison and a million other things that many would tell him reserved him a spot in hell. Reason and Logic. For Voltaire and Kant, they must have been two different concepts. For their were far too many people on the planet, with left brained, science-based minds, and absolutely no moral compass.

------ Did Donny care? No, not really. That would sort of defeat the whole point wouldn't it. It's not like he was as sadistic as his father, his older brother or Junior. And as long as he was on that side of the line, he was not worried about his mental status. After all, it would hinder him to get all mushy now. Like it or not, something the Sutton's needed to understand, Donny was not raised in the close loving family. He was raised by... essentially, a glorified street gang. Gang-bangers were his parents. So, quiet, safe, american dream reality could kiss his ass. Jordan, his older brother, was probably the biggest asshole you could ever meet, okay maybe not the BIGGEST but he was close. Tall, broody guy. Strong, definitely. He was the golden child of the Davis offspring. The first born son, the strong athletic one, because while Donny had always been fit, he hadn't really become toned until the last five years. Jordan was cutthroat and tough, and he was good at what he did.

------ Although, as Donny admits that , he also didn't see what was so challenging about torturing people, other than keeping your lunch down as you did so. Donny was good in a fight, and better since he embraced the Heyward in him more, but he was not a seemingly unstoppable force like Jordan was. Jordan took pleasure in it, he was called an "extractor" because he was able to extract information from just about anyone. Everyone in this business knows that eventually every person has their breaking point, Jordan had an uncanny ability to get to that breaking point quickly. No hesitation, just dove in. He always talked about the five basic torture groups. blunt, sharp, hot, cold, and loud. He very rarely dealt in the sixth group: choke. He said it was harder to control choke, if you under-do it, it is hardly torture and if you overdo it, you could kill the victim by accident. It's very fine like. Donny ruined lives over the internet as yes, by now he had killed three people. But to spend a day just slowly torturing a person? It just seemed unnecessary. See there it was again, his rational, REASONABLE brain at work.

------ Back inside the kitchen, Donny pulled a basic long sleeved shirt from the basket and swung it over his shoulder as he took a sip of his coffee. He heard some movement in the house and made his way through the living room to see Syl making a run for it. He leaned against the banister above his passed out best friend. "You know, if anyone deserved the walk of shame, I agree its you, I just didn't know you would be willing to make the trip." He said cooly before taking another drink. He glanced down at his passed out best friend but hardly blinked. He was used to seeing kale passed out in his underwear. Sometimes he had a nearly naked girl lying around in his room or somewhere else. Actually most of the time. Donny leaned forward slightly, not removing his resting arm from the staircase banister and glanced into the dinning room. He nodded, sure enough, he could see a female's leg sticking out from under the table covered in Kale's work. Hopefully it was her whole living body and not just a leg. He took another drink and looked up at Syl as she spoke, "thanks for the sloppy sex. but i think i'll pass next time," Donny smirked and nodded in acknowledgement before stepping over Kale, "You know Sylvia," He began by calling her by her full name, knowing it bugged her, "The next time we meet, and we both know there will be a next time so don't act like a bigger fool and waste your time denying it, I will expect you to... I don't know, open your eyes a bit. Sober ones. After all, you still have to prove to me that you're as much of a gift as you pretend to be." Donny finished with a smile and took another drink before turning around and beginning to walk back towards the kitchen.</sub>

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TAGGED;; syn<3
CREDITS;; format and graphics to me,
lyrics to Smash Mouth's "Ain't no Mystery"
CLOTHES;; for the next morning, he's just wearing some jeans
NOTES;; don't know when you want to finish this thread and go to the next