i should go now quietly for my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep ![]() ophelia hastings The thing about being new to an area was that you never knew where a good place to get a drink was. Ophelia, as she pushed open the door of the lavish bar, the steady techno beat drowning out any hope of conversation, wished that being new was her excuse for not knowing. The witch had no excuse other than fear: the fear of running into someone who needed healing, that the next person she healed would put her back in her bed for another year. The physical pain was one thing. The emotional pain had been much harder to shake. She could still see the woman's eyes, pleading for death. Whenever Ophelia closed her own eyes she could see them, bright green, desperate and full of pain. Delilah, twenty-one, bipolar, in desperate need of death. The depression had been too much for her and, in turn, had been too much for Ophelia. The power she had once thought was a blessing had been nothing more than a curse. The VooDoo Room hadn't been on her radar before but, as she sat at the bar, she was glad she decided to go there---and to check the dress code before she left the house. The cold didn't bother her anymore, but she still had pulled the black stockings over her too-thin legs and the tight-fitting long sleeved dress, black of course, over her head. The material was thicker, woven, but hadn't done shit to keep her warm against the bitterness of winter. "Vodka tonic, with a lemon." She pulled the credit card out of her wristlet and pushed it across the gleaming surface of the bar. If she was going to get warm tonight, she was sure this was going to be the only way. |