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Topics - Tahlia Faras

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Just Desserts / Fish 'n' Quips
« on: May 06, 2018, 09:57:08 PM »
(Inspired by this post!)


Tahlia stood at the edge of the fountain, peering at the multicolored shapes in the water.  She’d seen the sign, and flipped through the brochure.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she wanted to take home a goldfish or two, only that she was taking it seriously enough to pull out her phone, and send a quick text, along with a picture of the fountain.

Text to Puddin:Hey Puddin, how do I tell if these are normal fish? I was thinking about bringing a few home.

While she waited for a response, she took a handful of food, and sprinkled it into the water.  The resulting frenzy made her laugh, and sprinkle more a little bit away.  She was fairly certain they weren’t dangerous at all, but then, she’d never thought Eddie would turn into a giant leopard seal.

Eddie was enjoying a latte with extra whip cream and two cherries that he’d managed to pay for with the right kind of smile and wink when the text came. He pulled the phone free of his back pocket and opened to Tahlia’s message. “Fish?” He tapped on the image and zoomed in on the image before chuckling.

Text to Pumpkin Pie: It’s all in the eyes, babe. If they look like they’re staring at you and making plans, I’d be suspicious. Still I think those are freshwater fish, and at their biggest won’t get too much larger than my hand.

Text to Pumpkin Pie: Why do you ask?

He set the phone down on the table next to him. He’d just had the car detailed, that was a sure fire sign that something stupid would happen which would spill his drink and that was unacceptable.

Her back pocket let out a burst of sound that caused even the hungry fish to scatter, and the tiny blonde tugged the case out and thumbed open the message with a smirk.  Cocking a hip against one of the tables, she set down the brochure, and peered suspiciously at the aquatic creatures.  Trying to figure out if they were staring at her, or looking particularly conniving.  Those tiny little faces were hard to read. Straightening up again, she chewed on her bottom lip as she typed.

Text to Puddin:I dunno.  Your hands are kinda big.  And they all look a little dead-eyed and shifty.  How am I supposed to tell if they’re staring at me?

Text to Puddin:They’re pretty.  But I don’t want to bring midget Mer spies into the house!

Tucking the phone away again, she decided to walk over to one of the carts that seemed to spring up as soon as it was warm.  All this talk of fish was making her thirsty.

Eddie read the next text, and he could see Tahlia’s point. Most fish did have that shifty look to them. He thought about another way that she could tell before typing off a message.

Text to Pumpkin Pie: I’m sure there’s some nice fish in there. I can’t tell you about the crafty ones, they’re probably hiding. They are small though, and they’re hiding for a reason. You might be able to scare them away by making scary faces when they least suspect it.

He hit the send button and sat back to enjoy more of his latte, the phone went back on the table for now.

It took her a moment to juggle handing cash to the barista, and her iced cappuccino, so the unsubtle tones of Eddie’s theme song rang out and repeated before she managed to get a hand on the phone.  Thankfully, she hadn’t taken a sip yet, otherwise the poor attendant would have been wearing her drink.  Tahlia glanced over at the fountain, and read the text again.

Text to Puddin: I’m not making faces at fish.  Every time the phone goes off they scatter!  They’ll think I’m planning to eat them, and then the crafty ones will come out just so they can turn into tiny ninjas and kill us in our sleep.

Text to Puddin: Wait...if I bring them home, you’re not going to get snacky and eat them, are you?  You can’t eat them if I get nice fish.

Message sent, she reclaimed her drink and went back to the fish. Idly, she flipped through the brochure...she was going to need supplies.

Faces would have been the easiest way to tell, scattering at the ringtone didn’t prove they were normal or abnormal. It just meant that everyone knew to get out of Eddie’s way. He got another idea that might work and started to send that message along.

Text to Pumpkin Pie: I have something, the uhm… abnormal fish will instinctively know things. You should just lean down in front of them and proclaim that you’re Misery Woe. The normal fish will stick around because they don’t know about that kind of thing.

Send
. Eddie sipped at his drink a little more, but he hung onto the phone this time believing that Tahlia was going to text right back again.

He wasn’t wrong. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, phone in front of her, and drink in hand, she’d at least managed a few sips before his answer.  She’d been at least half joking, and shrugged, leaning over the water to whisper the words.  It didn’t seem to have any effect at all.  Sighing, she looked over the fish again, and dabbled a hand in the water.  

Text to Puddin: If they’re midget Mer, they’re REALLY crafty.  No response. I’m just going  to pick out two and bring them home.  If they crawl out and try to kill us, you get to be the bad guy.

She didn’t get up quite yet, since she didn’t want to be mid-scoop when he answered her.  She’d already decided which two - one was a little larger, with orange and black splashes, and the smaller, pale goldfish that never seemed terribly far from it.  

Text to Pumpkin Pie: No Subject MMS

When Tahlia would get that text she’d find a short video recording of a vaguely familiar blonde woman as she bent over and talked to the fish. Eddie took a final sip of his latte and waited for her to figure out what table he was sitting at. On the table in front of him were two more fish, one broad tailed and purple, the other white. He might have on the cockiest of grins.

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Just Desserts / Rock'n Sweet Rolls ((Music Thread!))
« on: February 13, 2018, 08:35:27 PM »
((What's playing on the radio, or running through their heads))

3
Just Desserts / In the Kitchen ((OOC Thread))
« on: January 18, 2018, 10:01:25 PM »
((Mandatory OOC Thread - all the things that go into making this sweet!))

4
Just Desserts / Texting Temptation
« on: October 19, 2017, 10:03:58 PM »
((OOC: Need to get a hold of Tahlia?  This is the place to do it!))

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Just Desserts / Road Less Traveled (18+, language, mature themes)
« on: October 06, 2017, 10:44:38 PM »
Tahlia let herself back into the silent penthouse, her heels echoing across the floors as the lights slowly rose to her preferred levels.  Half-light, perfectly suiting her mood since she?d returned to the city. Down the hall, into her bedroom, everything in its proper place - the cleaning crew must have been in while she was gone.  The gala had been lovely, full of people and light, and she?d been able to maintain the mask - smile bright and welcoming, a vision in crimson and golden blonde.  But she?d spent every night since her arrival alone, and she found herself struggling to shake the fog she?d been immersed in without the job to keep her distracted.

Heels kicked into the closet, she shed her finery like a snake sheds its skin, and retreated to the shower.  The water washed her blonde away, the glamour that was all the world outside knew of her.  Deep red once more, she stepped out into the steam, only bothering with a towel to remove the worst of the damp from skin and hair.  If there had been anyone there to see, they might have noted the odd ink that graced one firm cheek - an oak leaf and acorn, visible only until she tugged up a pair of black yoga pants, and a man's t-shirt the same shade, obviously stolen from someone taller and more muscular than she.  Slipping on a set of ballet flats, she snatched up her phone, and the cigarette case from tonight?s lace clutch, and barely paused at the bar for a bottle of Lagavulin, and a tumbler before settling out on the patio.  A few movements had the firepit blazing, and the silent figure dropped onto the padded seat, and poured.  

A sip of scotch, and she lit her first cigarette since she?d left for the party hours before.  Tucked into the corner, she reached, finally, for her phone.  Her little ritual.  A few messages, nothing that couldn?t wait, which meant she could immediately open the ones that meant the most.  Pictures of sunset, mountains...not a thing in sight for miles.  She scrolled up, checking for anything she might have missed, rereading the few words they?d sent back and forth - simple messages.  He was still planning to come back, eventually...and he loved her.  Sighing, she snapped a shot of the fire, the scotch backlit and glowing - he?d know where she was.  

Closing the window, she tapped open her photos, planning to send the shot right then and there.  He was likely asleep, but it would be waiting when he woke up - another reminder (besides the pictures she?d sent of the night's outfit, and what went under it) that she was thinking of him.  But her fingers skipped over the current shots, and onto a folder that required another password to unlock.  Bright blue eyes smiled up at her, the smile lopsided and hinting at just how cocky the man himself could be.  Five o?clock shadow, blond hair barely sweeping his forehead...she could, and had, stared at him for hours.  Swiping right, she marked time with sips of scotch and smoke-filled breaths.  Pictures of him, of course...some posed, most candid, snapped when she could sneak them - it was when she loved him best, when he wasn?t hiding behind walls.  One from above - head and shoulders, his teeth bright against the stubble and those lips - she?d pinned him down, or tried to, both of them naked and laughing at something.  She loved his laugh, loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.  

Heedless of the tears that reflected the firelight, she swiped again, her fingertips lingering on the screen - the two of them, lips barely touching, eyes closed, peaceful.  The next a moment before, or after, jade and sapphire locked together, a secret curving lips in matching smiles. These were the shots she treasured, although there were others, pictures of one or both in little more than skin and sweat.  She didn?t fool herself into thinking that they hadn?t sent similar moments to others, posed and positioned for greatest effect.  But either of them before coffee...snuggled in bed, or with mug raised to lips, along with a middle finger...those had never seen any eyes but theirs.  The two of them at home, relaxed, guards down - sometimes even playful - those she knew were theirs alone.  

She missed his arms around her, missed the way his breath stirred strands of her hair, the beat of his heart thudding through her as she lay on his chest.  She even missed the damn scar that reminded her how close she?d come to losing him.  Cigarette and scotch forgotten, she stared blindly into the flames, her knees tucked up against her chest beneath the shirt, barely noting the taste of salt on her lips.  As much as she tried to plan for a return to the only life she knew - hence the visit to the rooftop gala, the truth was she knew she couldn?t do that...and have him. Promises aside, she?d been on her own so long - the brand behind her ear served as a constant reminder of the perils of trusting to mens hearts.  She wanted to believe him...needed to believe him...but she was terrified of what would happen if he simply decided to stay where he was, far from the city that held so many painful memories.  She couldn?t blame him, but she knew she couldn?t follow...couldn?t go back to the cows and fields, not forever.  But given the choice...she knew she couldn?t resist that smile, the battered hands that could still be so gentle for her, the gravelly voice that could send shivers down her spine, or warmth blooming in places best not discussed in public.  She loved him.  

Keying up the phone, she selected the picture of fire and liquid peat, and hesitated.  There was so much she wanted to say, but she couldn?t seem to find the words.  She wanted him home.  She wanted him here.  She missed him and loved him and everything was grey without him.  But she couldn?t say it...couldn?t tell him she?d give it all up if he would just promise to come home right now and never leave again.  Couldn?t say she was willing to try nearly anything...to give them a chance.  It was all too much, and she couldn?t leave herself so vulnerable - not after everything.

?It?s too quiet here without you?and I?m caught up on the Duke boys.?

Sent.

6
Just Desserts / Devils in the Details
« on: May 20, 2017, 07:19:01 PM »
Tahlia slipped out from under the unconscious arm, running her fingers through the wealth of fiery red hair that was currently a sweaty tangle from earlier.  The bottle of top-shelf bourbon next to the bed was empty - figures.  Looking back at her still snoring companion, she smirked, and started collecting her clothes.  He?d been fun - not too muscle-bound, but fit, and a decent amount of endurance.  Plus, he?d paid for the room, the bottles...pretty sure there had been a pizza or something too.  But he wasn?t good enough to get her number, or for her to stick around.  Shrugging, she shimmied into a very expensive set of lace panties that had ended up hanging from a lampshade, finding the matching bra flung over a chair back.  It wasn?t often she found someone worth keeping around, unless they had something she wanted that wasn?t between their legs.  Her dress, a Dolce & Gabbana number in aqua that didn?t cover nearly enough for the weather, lay crumpled at the end of the bed next to a pair of matching Jimmy Choo?s.  She tugged the dress up over sunkissed skin, stepping into the heels at the same time.  Better all around for her to be out of there before something other than neon lit the sky.  

?Whereya goin, hot stuff??? Something had woken him, who knew what.  It didn?t really matter.  She was ready to go.  Rolling her eyes, she turned back to him with a soothing coo.  ?Hey, handsome...tonight was fun, but...I got places to be, y?know??  Hopefully that would be enough, and he?d settle back to sleep.  Turning back, she looked around for her clutch - her car was back at whatever casino she?d found him at - the Bellagio? Yeah...that was it.  And she figured asking him for cab fare was a step too far - not that she needed it, assuming she couldn?t charm the cabbie into giving her a free ride. She?d never understood the point of paying for things when you didn?t have to.  Neon set the golden material aglow, and she took a step to reclaim her bag.  

They?d nearly killed the bottle, and she might just have drunk more than he had.  Had to have, for her not to notice him come up behind her until he grabbed her arm, leering.  Didn?t have to be psychic to read that look.  ?Nuhuh - you?re comin back to bed...I?m not done with you.?  

?Sweetie, really...I gotta go.  Like I said, fun night but?? she let out a short laugh. ?I got a guy waiting for me...he worries if I?m not home by morning.?  Not entirely true - technically there were two of them, plus her sister, and while a day or two wouldn?t cause panic, all hell would break loose if she came to harm.  She tugged her arm free, with a little more effort than strictly necessary.  It was time to go.

?You got a what?  You a pro or something??  Mr. Slow-on-the-Uptake huffed up, fists balling at his sides.  She couldn?t remember his name, and didn?t care.  It took some guys this way when she blew them off - their little ego?s not up to facing that any woman wouldn?t fawn all over themselves to bed them.  

The chuckle turned into a full-throated laugh and a toss of her head, sending silken strands floating and coiling against her shoulders.  ?You couldn?t afford me if I was...just looking for a little fun.  And that?s exactly what you were.?  It was a failing of hers, that brazen attitude, the brattiness that made her the darling of her family, but often got her in trouble with others.  Turning on her heel, she made for the door - or intended to.

Strong fingers jerked her back, knuckles thudding against her cheekbone and sending her head snapping to the side.  Dazed for a moment, she tasted blood, and glared. The bastard had backhanded her.  Shame for him he?d nicked himself shaving that morning.  ?Bleed??  

It started as a trickle, then a stream, the force of the crimson liquid tugging the cut wider bit by bit.  A cold, pleased smile curved her lips as he let go of her arm, eyes wide with confusion.  A single word, and his own blood had turned against him, sluicing its way out of his body to obey her whim.  Gurgling, he collapsed at her feet, fingers scrabbling at her shoes even as his life blood pooled around him and the light died in his eyes. Tahlia shivered, a whispered moan escaping her lips - it had been too long.  Jade green eyes fell on the pants strewn over a chair, and she smirked.  Stepping through the spreading blood, she reached for his wallet, and then thought better of it.  She hardly needed to rob the dead, and it was past time for her to be on her way.  Stepping back the way she?d come, she spared one last glance for the naked corpse, and headed out into the night.  It might be a good idea to get away for a few days...this place was starting to bore her.

(The next morning)
Gregory ?Smitty? Smith was dead.  No, not dead.  Murdered.  The scene of the crime was like something out of a slasher flick.  The coppery smell of blood, the dark red stains of drying blood splashed everywhere...and of course, the drained, hollow looking body of officer Greg ?Smitty? Smith.  Federal Agents John Calloway and Valerie Francesca stood in the midst of gore that was the man?s remains, scanning the scene.

Crime scene tape marked the door, and the local PD boys had already had to dash down the hallway upon arrival.  Calloway, tall, broad, classically handsome with dark brown hair and steely blue eyes, looked down on the body of his former partner and friend, and shook his head.  ?Damn it, Smitty, what the hell did you get yourself into?? he muttered to himself,, chewing lightly on the inside of his cheek.

?More like who??  his partner commented from the bedstand.   Slim, well put-together in a dark grey pantsuit, her brown eyes turned up to him.  She held a tumbler stained with lipstick between her latex-gloved fingers.   ?Unless this is Smitty?s shade of pink??  She asked.

Calloway grimaced at the implication.  Greg Smith had had his faults - a weakness for fast, dangerous women was the least of them.    They?d known each other since their days at the academy.  Back then, though he had a penchant for hitting the bottle, the man was a good cop.  Their years in Vice had lead the man to harder substance abuse.  Cocaine, pills, a brief stint with heroin.  It had ruined two of the man?s marriages, and he became a bit of a joke in the dept, for screwing prostitutes instead of arresting them.  It had been a long road, but Calloway figured his friend had straightened himself out finally.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Valerie read the look on her partner?s face.  Realizing maybe the joke was ill-timed  ?John...you sure you want to be here??  She asked him, bagging the evidence.  

Calloway took in a deep breath, steeling himself.  ?Yeah...?  Nothing about this sat right to him.  Despite his demons, Smitty was a capable police officer, and sure as hell was no weakling.  How a some woman had gotten one over on him...sprayed his blood all over the room...drained him to a husk, was beyond him.  No, he would bet his life that whatever had killed Greg Smith was no normal woman.  It was practically inhuman.  Though, what that implied...was impossible.  

He cleared his throat and turned to Valerie.  ?Bag the glasses, the bottles...check the bedding for hair...and have someone get shots of the shoe prints.?  It wasn?t much, but it was something.  ?Talk to the front desk, get ahold of the security camera footage.  And ask for Doc Lerner down at the M.E?s office??  

Valerie nodded her head, stepping out into the hall.  ?Deputy??  She called out, leaving Calloway alone.

Those sharp, blue eyes stayed on his friend?s blood-stained corpse, his jaw clenching in time with his fist.  He was going to bury whoever did this - you could bet on that.  Somehow, they were going to burn.

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