Saltburnt Inbox

[snaggleteeth]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
QIMIR

text ❖ audio ❖ video

Comments

[snaggleteeth]

[it doesn't take 'qimir' too long to get his shit together, to start making the journey. it's been a long, painful few weeks, worse because enough of that pain was secondhand. lisa sounds as blithe to him as he, apparently, does to her.

(did she just sent him a heart emoji? what is happening.)]

You want booze? I can pick some up.

[medication]

[ Oh. Lisa chews her lip. What she really wants is to go out for a drink but that's a nonstarter. This isn't the first time she's been tempted to sneak a bottle up to her room, though. It hasn't been too difficult to talk herself out of it. Tonight, it's easier to talk herself into it. It wouldn't be drinking alone, and it may not be to excess. And she's curious what a tipsy Qimir is like. ]

OK That'd be great!
Just get whatever you like

[snaggleteeth]

[he hasn't been great about acting normal, lately. this is a fortunate opportunity for recovery. to the extent that anything involving lisa is 'normal,' further than a half-inch past her skin and big doe eyes. (he'd know. he's gone poking around. it was a weird time.)]

On my way. Please kick out other visitors before I get there, unless that's the thing.

[medication]

[ Lisa blushes at that. ]

Its not
I wouldn't spring that on u

[ Her blush broadens into a burn. Why did she say that? Because it's the first time someone's insinuated multiple partners that she might actually like to try it with. Shows how desperate circumstances have made her. Qimir is so intense. He's more than enough. ]

→ action

[snaggleteeth]

[time passes. not a lot of it. in the wake of angelus' proudly televised bullshit, the house seems to have slumped to the baseline temporal-spatial fuckery, and the stranger doesn't have too much difficulty navigating to the kitchen and out. the bottle of vodka sloshes, snared between forefinger and middle; a vessel of tonic, hanging off the next ringing of fingers. 'qimir' is touch with his ire, as he trawls the hallway to her door. angelus made good on his threats. he and his ire have been sending shitty notes back and forth for awhile, now.

at least no one died. good, that koby kept—mostly?—out of it. tara wouldn't be stupid enough to confront a tactlessly homicidal vampire, as long as someone didn't tell her not to, which was admittedly a weird communication paradox. wanda was sleeping. lisa, apparently, tucked up behind a locked bedroom door. at least nobody died. (he doesn't know.) (won't, for a few hours yet.)

knock knock. this once, he's not actually trying to look cool, standing there, mildly disheveled, staring off into space without porch lights on. any confusion from onlookers will require imagination, as apparently experienced by the fictional fans of the fictional front man of the 1998 earth band gorillaz. like 2-d, 'qimir' is merely trying to ward off a tension headache.]