We're all rotten, buried and forgotten,

Living it up underground

Harley has been through enough, even if the spitfire of a woman had brought on some of that turmoil onto herself. But sometimes, it somehow sought her out and in a wicked world of vampires and predators, she couldn't help but feel small like a mouse in a maze. When the world became a weight that was too much, she missed her friend to confide in that much more. This was one of the many reasons why Harley dared to blacken the door of Sacrosanct once more. Was it wrong to crave the familiarity of an old but cherished friend? Alright, maybe she might have used false pretences to lure the red haired woman here. But was the failure to admit who you were truly false? Surely if Isolt was entirely up to meeting a stranger, then she would be ecstatic to see someone she knew. Okay, maybe her twisted little plan was deeply flawed, for the chance that Isolt didn't want to see her. But it was a selfish chance she was willing to make.

This amethyst eyed woman was bad news, that much was clear, even she had to admit it. If somehow attracting danger at every turn was a specialty she would be the one to talk to, the woman was a damn strong magnet to it. Maybe the woman she called Isolt had simply had enough of the constant trouble she lured into their midst. But that didn't stop Harley from finding her friend, oh hell no. When her mind was made there was no stopping this roaring freight train from her track. One would do best to step out of her way because she wasn't stopping for anyone.


So when that ball of fire walked into that luxurious looking bar she commanded a certain presence, somehow filling a room even though she lacked the size. Even as she felt almost out of place there was no room for doubt in this sassy little human. She walked a little taller, strode forward with far more purpose than she needed to, which only exposed her concealed nervousness. There was such a blatant need for that friendly familiar face not to simply shun her or cast her away which made her forget reason, even if she had to trick her here to get her to meet with her. Harley wanted to know why they had suddenly fractured, why she pulled away with a fierceness that startled even her. Perhaps there was a way she could mend that frayed line and mend a tie that had become severed. At least that was what she told herself.


It felt like a whole hour ticked by so agonisingly slow for Isolt just to turn around and face her nightmare, in the form of a human woman. She almost thought for a split second that she chose to ignore her when those familiar notes of her voice crossed the void as if she were nothing more than a fly buzzing annoyingly around her head. If that was the case she simply could not swallow that razorblade truth.

However the woman unexpectedly shifted to face her and something about her looked different. It was as though she were still youthful but worn, no that wasn't the word. It was more like, she didn't have enough iron in her diet. Had her friend neglected her own health? Had something happened? She seemed so tired and yet awake, whilst her skin's sallowness took her aback, no longer taking on the blush it once held. But it was without a single doubt absolutely and most positively her companion, Isolt. She was still pretty as though an ethereal glow took upon her pale features. She was still the friend she remembered that stood by her side whilst they stared danger square in the eye. She felt like a little girl again, as though all the wrong and heartbreak never happened. Isolt stood, a flash of sudden movement, she was so painfully and strikingly familiar to the midnight haired woman. Yet there they stood after several years simply staring at one another. Probably for much longer than it actually was.

Isolt, as always, was the first to break that unspoken tension. The red haired woman threw her arms around her so fast that the midnight haired woman nearly faltered. That simple friendly embrace was all that she needed in that moment to forget the horrors of a past that would keep her up at night. It made her relieved that her friend didn't turn her back entirely on her. A heaviness of a 500-pound man eased from her burdened shoulders, that ache in heart finally eased just enough so she could almost breathe again. Almost, because if it were not for Isolt's all too impressive grip around her she could breathe just fine! Damn, she was strong.

Those words uttered her way was all she needed to hear before those tears threatened to spill from those violet eyes. Oh hell to the fucking NO, she would not dare cry.

Harley hesitated before squeezing her cherished companion back with a fierceness, taking that opportunity to blink back those tears before they fell. Harley almost never cried, she had wept all the tears she thought she had many years ago when the death of her parents stole them from her.

"Well it's me, live and in the flesh." Her iconic sarcasm was back as though it never retreated and she never once held doubt in her mind. A devious smirk finds its way upon her features which met her eyes. It would seem you kept your number. She uttered her cheeky reply, releasing her friend from the hold of her own version of a death grip. Once the hug was over, she perched herself in that tall seat to the left of her long lost friend. She may have had to climb up that chair only a little, thanks to her height deficiency. Mind you, what she lacked in height, she made up for with fire.

"Hey bartender, give us your strongest liqueur and would you turn up the heat, my friend is ice cold. She barked her orders, expecting that reluctant poor bartender to follow it to a tee. She pivots within that stool, her vibrant purple gaze eyeing her friend in almost in sheer disbelief. For the first time, she didn't know what to say, her mouth hanging open for but a second, but does her best to keep it cool. "So what the hell is new with you??" What she didn't say was just how much she needed her friend right now and just how much she missed her. What she also failed to ask was that question that burned with her mind, a question that would shed light upon the downfall of their friendship. 'Where the hell did she go?' But the night was young and they haven't even had a drop of alcohol brush their lips, in which they would undoubtedly need by the time this night was over.

Perhaps, or so she hoped, she could mend the torn pages from the book of their friendship. But for now, they could share a drink and catch up like no time had passed.

Harlequin Ray Westward