STARTERS

welcome to a few rather detailed starters i've grown and curated over the years! some of them have specific oc's in mind, whereas others are free game. the capitalized word(s) mark where one begins as a sort of 'title.' feel free to hit me up about any of them!

MANHATTAN
Downtown Manhattan was most certainly on the list of top ten cities in the country to house fantastic nightclubs for tourists and citizens alike to visit (at least if you could manage to get yourself a spot inside). All establishments had their busy nights, but The Velvet Lounge was simply busy every night like clockwork. From their arrangement of fine liquor to incredibly pleasant staff and delightful prices, the club had no trouble whatsoever reeling in paying customers. Multicolored lights that swayed to and fro could be quite blinding if you got caught in their direct stream, but none of the happy party people of all ages grinding against sweaty bodies on the makeshift dance floor to whatever was currently topping the charts in the music industry seemed to mind, though.

This very nightclub happened to be one of Isabella Sinclair’s top picks, too. Tonight she was there on a special occasion; Her birthday in specific terms. The dark haired girl was seated on one of the twisty bar stools made from copper and steel at the glittering bar top amongst her friends who were shooting shots of liquor that went unpaid on their behalf for the most part.

The dark haired girl with a silly pink and purple hued birthday crown resting atop her curls was too entranced with the celebration around her to sense another pair of eyes on her; Watching her, memorizing her body language and every move throughout the night like she was luring him forward with the delicate song of a siren. Even the smallest of details seemed key to this man— The way her natural reaction to almost any punchline or joke was a smile; every muscle in her face contracting to reveal those pearly whites behind her cherry stained lips. Or the way that black, silky material hugged her body the way many wished to have the privilege of feeling.

The girl that currently sat beside Isabella nudged her forearm to gain a slither of her attention, gesturing over behind her. “Looks like you’ve grasped someone else’s interest for the night, babe.” The redhead commented with a sinister smile. With those words, Bel couldn’t help but follow the other woman’s gaze towards the silhouette of the ‘someone else’ in question, nursing their own drink at one of the shaded circular booths in the farthest corner.

She was certainly no stranger to a little male attention here and there. Not to seem narcissistic, either. She simply knew what a pretty smile and the bat of those big brown eyes could do to any typical male. Yet the shadow of a man looming in the corner grasped her attention quite easily as if he were yanking her forward by a leash.

HER MISSION

“Turns out the Temptress is just another pretty face, huh?” An aged man with sandy colored hair taunted over the young girl that sat straight up in the flimsy chair the motel provided for each room, more than likely made out of fake lumber for appearance and less cost. Her wrists ached from the fiery indent the rough rope was leaving as a foul reminder for the next few days to follow. Not too much longer and she presumed the feeling would reach her secured ankles. The rope job was poorly executed, appearing to be rushed as if he was fearful that she would break away before it was perfectly done.

“You know.. Mister Caporaso, it has been so long since I’ve been properly pleased..” Geovana virtually purred those few words to him, allowing them to eloquently fall off her tongue as her chartreuse colored eyes stared him down in a lustful manner, all whilst she began to teasingly spread her legs open as far as the restraints would allow her. The man before her looked to be entirely consumed with a new sensation of lust; Exactly where she wanted him.. Men could be so easy, she thought. He came closer, eyeing her up and down as if she was a huge lollipop in the window display he wished for years, and years ago when he was a little boy. Just when he began to lean over, Geovana snatched her opportunity straight on, grasping hold of her dagger firmly and aiming right above his heart. Same damage, more suffering.

Her mother had taught her from a very young age to use her womanhood to her advantage. Especially living in a man’s world.

This world was beautiful, but every beautiful thing has a very ugly truth to hide behind it. In this world? It was this very harsh reality. Life was short-lived, specifically for the well-respected man that was now some place down at the bottom of the Bay. When it came to good versus evil, it was always going to be evil that was dealt the winning hand.

BAR

Wide-set, sea green eyes with ringlets of aging around them appeared on the face illuminating her cell phone screen. Do not disturb was to thank for the lack of ring-tone, which would typically be a track from the TV show “The Golden Girls.” The image flickered once, then twice, continuing with each ring until it felt as if the smiling man was taunting her to pick up the phone. She had almost psyched herself out of the routine of dodging these calls, well aware that if she didn’t pick up one sooner or later that her father was crazy enough to drive down to Brooklyn tomorrow but a lengthy beep startled her from that deep process of thought, notifying her that a voicemail was left in place of her waiting.

“Hey, kiddo.. Just checkin’ in on you, alright?” His voice was thick and gravelly; Similar to what you assumed sandpaper swiping across a paved road felt like, only to be followed by a chortle. “I know you’re an adult now doin’ all kinds of big girl things, but don’t forget you have a dad at home that misses you, yeah? Momma, too, even if she may be far too stubborn to admit that. I love ya, Rae. Don’t forget that.” The line went flat to indicate that the message was through, staring down at the white box for a moment in advance of saving it to the dozens of others that were piling together in her voicebox.

Fiery red hair peeked through the open doorway of the back room to reveal an expression of distaste that was no doubt a result of her eavesdropping in on the failed call. “Still?” Hollis cocked her head to the side in reference to the phone awkwardly resting in-between her hands. The only response she was granted was a nod, which was met with another sigh. “You’re going to have to man up and speak to him one day. We both know he would have never done a thing if it weren’t for how strict Alma is.” She understood that nothing permitted the way she cut contact with her folks after the incident, especially after choosing to not tell them what exactly happened that night. Not that she ever really made super logical decisions, anyway.

“Raelyn! Holly! Awful lot of folks out here patiently waiting to be served!” The crunchy, whisky-ridden voice of their manager; Ledger, ran out like a warning bell from his office down the hall. “C’mon, only a few more hours, right?” The redhead beckoned her to her feet, encouraging her to battle through the rest of their shift with the promise of closing time coming around soon. “Right.” She echoed with a nod, pocketing her cell in the waistband of the spandex beneath her dress.

The Varnish was a mediocre, industrial styled bar in downtown Manhattan. The outside of the small building was made up of tarnished, red-ish brown brick. You would assume the building was no more than abandoned if it weren’t for the steel letters hanging directly above the two, double metal doors that spelled out the title of the establishment. The inside was quite dim aside from a few wicker candles burning in the middle of each circular table, two at each end of the bar-top as well. Every surface was a gorgeous piece of tainted wood, presumably hand-crafted by whoever had started this place. The seating ranged from wood to steel, the circular bar stools having screws drilled into the intentionally tarnished metal. Gazing around the quaint space she only spotted a few customers, most of them being elderly amongst a couple or two.

She was wearing a ruched, somewhat urban casual dress that was ordered many moons ago off of an online boutique that sold high-quality items for a considerably even price range. Or one that she could afford, at least. The mini dress only came down to around the mid of her thigh to graciously expose the supple skin peeking from beneath, and the black shade not only complimented her skin tone well, but her figure. Hell, wasn’t the color black slimming on everyone? The work uniform may have been to please the eyes of their patrons, but she chose not to ponder too hard on the matter when it came to how pretty she felt.

Raelyn pushed aside the murky brown beads that hung in the doorway joining the back area and the entrance to behind the bar, acting as a makeshift privacy veil. She attended to her regulars with all smiles, wading through conversation and setting them up with their usual orders before approaching a man at the end of the bar that she didn’t particularly recognize. “What can I get ya?” Her voice was crafted with sugar and silk, a blessed tune for any nearby ears. Who knew what was more effective, her natural tone of voice or the gaze those doe-like brown eyes held with another.