The_Luckiest [entries|friends|calendar] Braden Feidhelm [ userinfo | greatestjournal userinfo ] [ calendar | greatestjournal calendar ]

Ty and Braden [30 Jul 2007|09:48pm] Las Vegas, Nevada. Tyler trudged slowly down the hotel hallway while his stomach tied itself into the most incredible knots imaginable for such an organ. Arriving at his destination, he stood still for a moment, content to examine the door in front of him. I can’t believe it has taken me this long, he thinks admonishingly to himself. He knocked on the door. When there was no answer he knocked again. And again. A voice from behind him was even more admonishing then his own only moments earlier. It’s full of attitude, contempt and disdain. “Don’t you know she ain’t here no more?” Searchlight, Nevada. Braden trudged slowly through the trailer park, trying to recall from his rather vague recollection exactly which mobile dwelling was occupied by Senorita Hannah. When he finally happened upon it, he knew instantly. He still couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to find his way back into town. He knocked on the door. When there was no answer he knocked again. And again. A rather somber voice calls out from across the way to him. “If you’re looking for her, you’re too late.” Tyler blinked a few times as he turned to face a woman who was identified by her name tag as “Mo’niquia. She was short and somewhat rotund, and seemed to be very much peeved with him at the moment. “What do you mean she’s not here anymore?” “I mean she’s gone, Einstein. She packed up her shit, including those ridiculous flowers you sent, and took off.” “How did you know I sent them?” “Who else but a sulky guy dressed darkly sends something like that?” “Fair enough. Do you know how I can find her?” Jane Abernathy stood, in all her mourning glory, on her front trailer porch and glared reprovingly at the young leprechaun. “Too late? My dear woman, it’s hardly five o’clock in the afternoon. Certainly she doesn’t fall asleep this early.” “No, you funny talkin’ imbecile, I mean you’re too late. Haven’t you read the papers? That sweet girl got herself caught up with some very bad people. I have no doubt that you’re very much in cahoots with them, and I should call the police on you this very instant!” “So wait. By too late you mean she’s…dead?” Tyler felt as though by her lack of an answer she had more information that she was willing to share. This made him rather unpleasant, but before he could express his opinion he had already been cut off with the long awaited reply. “You missed your chance, Romeo. She didn’t leave any instructions to tell anyone shit, so I ain’t gonna. Now you best move along before I call the security guards.” Braden had to stand still for a few moments for the news to sink in. He had totally screwed up that little blonde woman’s last chance for amazing sex. Not surprisingly, the guilt hit a little bit heavy in the belt region. He reached into his pocket for something that hadn’t previously been there. When his hand emerged again, it was holding a small naked troll with ridiculous blue hair. He set it down on the steps to her trailer and turned to walk away. Tyler stood in front of the door for a few moments longer, his hand resting upon the rugged wood. Finally, with no other alternative, he turned and slowly walked back from where he had come. The slightest impression of a rose had been burned into the wood where previously his hand had been. Reply

Morning After Clemence [11 Jun 2007|08:28pm] con't from here     With no alarm clock to wake him up, Braden had dozed through half of the morning.  Finally, as the sun began to fully permeate his bedroom, he slowly began to leave the land of dreams and return to the land of wakefulness.  Before his eyes opened, he noticed that there was a familiar taste in his mouth.  He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth a few times.   Vodka.    He started to roll over when he became aware of a warmth next to him.  It startled his for a only a moment, but then the previous night’s escapades came flooding back him.  His brain attempted to process them all and put them into chronological order.   Bar. Dumb girls making out. Game of pool. Pretty Blonde…Clemence? Yeah.  Clemence Vodka. Cab. Home. … Jiggity Jig.  Braden grinned wickedly as he rolled over to check on the condition of his bedmate.   Clemence was pretty sure someone was aiming lightning bolts directly at her head. It wasn't until she felt movement next to her that she opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought she was in her trailer, but then she realized that if that were the case, no one should be next to her in the bed. She quickly sat up, regretting the fact as the room seemed to spin wildly around her. One hand pressed against her forehead, she turned bleary eyes on the person lying next to her. Then it dawned on her. Braden. Oh, yeah. Looking down, she realized she was in fact nude and hastily pulled the sheets up around her. "Morning," she said, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.    It took some doing, but Braden managed to pull himself together quickly enough to not laugh out loud at what he termed the “sheet scramble.”  It was not the first time he had seen it.  Probably not the last, either.  From the look in her eyes, continuing last night’s bedroom festivities this morning was out of the question.  At least for now.   “Good morning,” he replied groggily, pushing the sheets off of himself and rising slowly.  Rarely did any good come of moving quickly first thing in the morning.   “And yes, I have coffee, aspirin, or whiskey.  You may have them in any combination you like.” He guessed whiskey wasn’t going to be a big one with her.  Eh, more for him.  He crossed the room and flipped the switch on the coffee maker.     ( I've got a great idea ) Reply

Leah and Braden meet [05 Jun 2007|09:53pm] As Braden laid his three pieces of luggage on the bed, he sighed out of complete lack of anything stimulating. He’d been in his hotel room just long enough to take a lengthy piss and raid the mini-fridge while trying to get the T.V. onto something fun. Like pornography. Instead, he got Jeopardy. “…I’ll take The Afterlife for eight hundred, Alex…” “This is a place of extreme torment, where there is said to be ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’…” “What is a fucken hotel room” he muttered under his breath in response to the droning, dull voice coming from the far side of the room. This was torture. Braden was not going to take minutes upon excruciating minutes to unpack when there was a casino with a full bar and pretty waitress’s right below. So still dressed in his dark maroon T-shirt and dark jeans, he grabbed his wallet and downed the rest of the joke of a bottle of vodka as he made a bee line for the elevator, and the salvation that waited for him at the end of the elevator ride. "Bartender, gimme another." Leah ordered, already half in the bag as she sat at the aforementioned full bar. Four empty glasses rested in front of her and the hybrid didn't plan on slowing down until the sun was above the horizon. After the near death encounter with Vicky, she'd changed out of the costume and gotten the heck out of Fang Noir, driving just down the strip to her favorite casino and walking straight into the bar. It was a crowded joint and she'd been hit on several times already, but the seat next to hers was vacant as she'd shown a decided lack of interest in the hopefuls who'd tried to pick her up. She was in no mood to flirt with tourists tonight, her normally insatiable appetite dormant. The blame for what had happened could be laid entirely at her feet: Vicky's personality was being distorted out of all recognition and it was all Leah's fault. If she hadn't done that 'favor' for Elfleda, the Vampiress would still be her cheerfully erotic and tasteful self. Instead, the stone was twisting her into nothing more than a sadistic killing machine. Something had to be done, but. Leah had no idea how to fix things without pissing off an extremely powerful being that could do all sorts of nasty things to her without breaking a sweat. Would getting rid of the stone restore Vicky back to her normal self? Leah didn't know that either. Strolling through the casino, Braden eyed several tables of various card games. Any kind of gambling suited him well enough, and often he came away with his pockets much more full than when he arrived. He’d always shrug his shoulders modestly as he left the table. What could he say? He just seemed to be a lucky guy. And that (in)famous luck appeared to be kicking into overdrive as he spied an empty bar seat next to a pretty girl. His grandpop had told him on several occasions that heaven was made up of empty barstools next to attractive women. Only Grandpop tended to use more colorful, descriptive language. Such a charming little man. Funny as hell. Braden slide into the seat with ease, and nodded at the bartender’s quizzical look. “Bottle of Jamerson, for starters,” he requested. “And a nice tall glass of ice, if ya’ don’t mind too much.” ( Problem solving ) Reply

Train roll on. [02 Jun 2007|08:02am] Braden had decided instantly upon the train as his preferred mode of transport from New York City to Las Vegas. There was no sense of urgency, as he knew that as soon as he arrived at his destination he would be staying for a while. Why not enjoy the trip? It was four days in total. Braden had secured himself a small room, complete with a bed that folded out from the side of the wall. He spent relatively little time there, for there existed a few cars down a wonderful viewing area, with the walls made almost entirely of glass. Below, there was a small bar that served the more common forms of beer and liquor. Within two hours, they knew that Braden was going to be their best customer. He spent much of his time with a drink in his hand, staring off into the distance from his perch in the viewing car. At night, they played older movies like “Captain Ron” or “Goldfinger”, but during the day it was simply the shuffling of the scenery outside and of people inside. Once in a while, someone would sit down beside him, and the two of them would share several moments of silent proximity as plains, forests, rivers, cities, and all the wildlife that these places could entail flew by. A few times someone might strike up a brief conversation, but it almost always centered around the view. Braden had to make more connections with the train than would have been necessary with a flight, but he didn’t care. His first run took him from New York to Chicago. Having only ten minutes, he raced from one platform to the next, catching the train that rain from Chicago to Albuquerque. His layover there was three hours, so he took a stroll in the hot desert sun, stopping and admiring the little tables that were set up as make-shift shops. He happened upon a gold medallion of St. Patrick, with a shamrock on the far side. He laughed out loud when he found this, and paid the little dark-haired girl sitting at the table twice what they were asking for it; an amount which came to the grand total of five dollars. His good luck charm hung around his neck and under his shirt, with a bit of the chain peeking out from the top of his t-shirt. He got back to the station and boarded his train once more, and settled in for the short trip with his favorite traveling partner, Jack Daniels. Vegas was only a few hours away. Reply

[31 May 2007|10:06pm] blah blah Reply

[31 May 2007|10:03pm] test test Reply

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