stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Harley could not help the despising thoughts that twist and churn within the confines of her mind. Memories, began to nip at her heels as bitter fucking memories perhaps even more prominent due to the ones that inflict pain like acid always seems to stand out more prominently than the good ones. Those good memories seemed to come in short supply these days but oh, how the raven-haired woman clings to them anyways like some veritable flimsy lifeline that it was. How her very life would somehow become so much worse than the unforgiving damage that had already been done to her. But it is her sheer ironclad will and that grit that she uses for traction to cling onto her life that keeps her head above water.

'Say the word' Harley so demanded, it was such a small thing but it was the utmost importance in that very moment. The very threshold that drew the proverbial line in the sand. Was Isolt still Isolt? She had certainly fooled her tonight if she wasn't. She could not give up clinging to the fact that Isolt was somehow still in there. She had to be. She wanted to know if she was ok, she needed to know it for her own shot-to-hell sanity. God fucking dammit Isolt, just say the fucking words. She wanted her to tell her that she was still in there and Ryker hadn't harmed her beyond repair. Then a word slipped passed her cherished friend's lips, a gurgling blood soaked sound and yet, how it fills her with so much relief and joy all the same. Fuck you fate, take that! They could win this, if Isolt could not lose herself to the darkness that surely took over her body, they could get through anything.

With a passionate cry, Harley replies back her word in turn. "POMEGRANITE, fuck yes!" She declared with a massive grin upon her face. She probably looked like a fucking lunatic but she hardly cared. A very perplexed Ryker peered at the two girls, that confusion etched upon his wicked, spiteful face. The mention of fruits and how passionate the two girls seemed about saying it. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, and it only served for a temporary distraction.

How cruel fate was to be so determined in breaking the defiant creature that Harley was, threatening to shatter her into a million shards that lay in the wake of its own ruin. No. She refused to simply take it, her only drive was to push it right back, to cause it to shatter and break against herself. If this was the life she was destined to live, she would damn well put up one hell of a fight. It would seem she was entirely intended to turn garbage into fucking gold and somehow she would defeat the odds. Even when that drunken Harley was within this vile vampires clutches, clinging to a broken lamp formed into makeshift nunchucks. She would not simply stand and take it. Harley muttered something displaying how terribly bored she was of Ryker, how terribly unoriginal he was! "You think you're so smart, stealing his club, stealing me... But all you are is an unoriginal douchbag with really shitty fucking hair. UGH!" The drunken Harley could hardly help her own frustration, her eyes rolling the eyeroll of a century. "You also have a stupid face.." Even despite that unforgiving hold that Ryker keeps her within, she snaps her hand back, the hand closest to his face. Of course, it was a rather risky move, she could have easily hit her own face in the process. YET, she does it anyways with unsurmountable confidence she hardly deserved in those restrictively suffocating moments. Thankfully, even with the numbness of her own face from that intoxication she was unscathed. She successfully smashes Ryker's face with a disgusting meaty sound, the metal that connected with his face made a delightful ping sound. Ryker only clung tighter, growling his fury. "you fucking little bitch. I'll rip your throat out for this.."

"..and the originality keeps on coming." She quips dripping with that iconic Harley sarcasm.

Harley sighed harshly. It gave Isolt the perfect amount of time to..... break her own fucking wrist??? That sound was fucking sickening meaty crack that seemed to echo in her damn room and the raven-haired spitfire's eyes nearly exploded in her sockets. "DUDE, ISOLT WHAT THE FUCK... DON'T DO THAT!" She cried out, ruining her blatant joy spinning it into perfect misery. She knew the situation was shitty, but not enough to inflict that madness upon her self. She barely said all the words before Ryker's grip loosened, that meaty snap occurring in his own wrist. This was some fucked up shit. That asshole left a handprint bruise wherever he gripped her, Harley's mortal flesh hardly capable of a vampire's abuse and yet they kept on unleashing it upon her.

She suddenly felt Isolt's grasp yanking her abruptly forward, which only made her fall less than gracefully out of the way near Ace. Harley ended up on all fours, practically a useless heap on the ground unable to move.. Maybe she will just stay here on the spinning ground for a little while. She turned her head enough to watch the rest of the madness unfold. She crawled over to Ace then pulling his tiny form to her body. "I love you little buddy, it will be ok." She murmured quietly to her thankfully still breathing pup. She places a sweet kiss upon the top of his warm head as he wiggles within her arms. No blood. She would take him to the vet in the morning just to be sure. She would not know what she would do without him.

Isolt seized that moment, snapping off a piece of her wooden bed frame like it was nothing. Harley couldn't help but wince at that sound.. She stalks toward Ryker with intent to kill. Isolt plummets that makeshift stake into his chest, just barely missing his unbeating heart.

"This is not over.." He utters ominously, racing off into the submissive night with a shard of wood sticking out of his chest. "Thanks for the heads up, dickhead." She spoke to the vacant space where he once was. "Yet another ominous cliché threat, do these vampires share the same manual or something? Dickhead didn't even close the damn door behind him." She gestured as best as a drunken person was expected to.

"Izzy..." There was just too much to unpack.. too much whirling in her mind. "Are you ok?" Like hell she was ok.. she was a vampire, she died and came back. She waited to hear those words near impatiently.

"So what in the fuck?" She asked, clumsily rising to her feet while keeping puppy Ace cradled in her arms like a little baby. "Start at the beginning.." She demands, not allowing her any wiggle room to get out of this one, giving Isolt that good old fashion Harley stare down. "I think we need a couch for this one." She grumbled, waiting for her friend to move her way into that equally cataclysmic living room.

"At least it looks... reaaaaally lived in." She replied sardonically as she waits for Isolt to join her as she meandered out of her bedroom. Her vibrant violet eyes searching for the best feasible place to sit.

Harley Westward