[Open]Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

[Jazmin]

"Ouch, goddamn." The bitter curse parted the lips of a young man as he leaned against the mighty school building, blood running down his fingers. He quickly ripped the rest of the large shard of glass from his wrist. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it to keep down a cry of pain.

Letting go of a shaky breath, he tipped his head back, feeling the rough brick scrape against his sweatshirt hood. He flicked the shard of glass away, clamping his hand around his bleeding wrist before he could lose much more blood.

"Stupid anger," he growled to himself. "I just have to hit something when I'm mad, don't I?" Yeah, punching out a window hadn't been on his to-do list that morning. But when he found out that his parents might end up splitting up, he had gone to his room, grabbed both his knife and his revolver, and left the house.

He wound up here, at Drip meeting grounds. He would feel unsafe if he wasn't one of them. He knew the quick-set pace of his gang and the violence they were known for. He would be taken down in a heartbeat if he was a random passerby.

Removing his hand from his wrist, the boy lifted his hand to his face. The overhanging half-moon barely cast enough light for his to see that the bleeding had slowed to almost nothing, but his hand was nearly coated in crimson liquid.

"Oh, God, Stree," he cursed himself. He had to get this taken care of.

Taking a quick glance around to see if the coast was clear, Stree quickly lifted off his sweatshirt, exposing his arms and head to the world. His arms had a few faded scars on them from when he was little, and his hair was amazingly blond. Out of instinct, he ran his fingers that weren't coated in blood through his hair, giving it volume. His bright blue eyes took another couple glances around.

Setting the large sweatshirt on the ground, Stree crouched beside it, lifting his shirt off. He slipped back into his sweatshirt before the cold could begin to bite at him, rolling up the sleeve of his bleeding wrist.

Picking up his still-warm shirt, Stree took an edge between his teeth, giving it a hard tug. The cloth ripped loudly, making Stree jump. He tore away the chunk of material, dropping the rest of the shirt. Sitting down completely, he leaned back against the school, bringing his knees up. Laying the strip of cloth over his knees, he placed his wrist in the center, folding the ends together. Using his teeth for help, he managed to get the cloth tied nice and tight.

"I hope that helps," he muttered, picking up the remains of his shirt and stuffing it into his sweatshirt pocket. He looked down at the bulge, decided it looked totally stupid, and yanked the shirt back out. He would just carry it.

Standing up, Stree let out a quiet groan, pressing his back to the building, holding his head. Everything was spinning. Nothing was still. Pinching his eyes shut, Stree tried to imagine everything being still as they had been, relaxing his mind.

Do I dare open my eyes again? he asked himself silently. Moving his hands away, he cracked his lids apart, pleased to find that everything was still once more.

[Teddy<3]

Eyes closed, fingers instinctively moving along the six strings, Lacey finished her song, speeding it up a little. She really needed to get home. Her mother would start worrying soon. Her father didn't care how long she stayed out. There was no pleasing either except to come home early.

Placing her guitar carefully in its black case and closing and locking the lid. She lifted it up, draping the strap over her head and shoulder, taking comfort in the familiar shape against her back. She briefly wondered if she should take the closest path home. Pass the school. Drip territory. But the other path would take her much longer. This was only a block or so. Shrugging, Lacey began walking to the school building.

Ears alert, eyes catching every shadow, Lacey finally saw the large school. She cocked her head, narrowing her green eyes, trying to make out the black figure in front of the building. Finally she could make out a young man. A man who felt so comfortable in the preying grounds of the Drips. It was his home too.

Without thinking to breath, Lacey strode toward the Drip. She didn't bother staying in the shadows or hiding. She faced him head on. Pulling her gray and black hoodie tighter around her body to fight the chill, she stopped a good couple yards from him. Staring. She wouldn't go any farther, yet.

"Hey!" Lacey called, smiling at how ditsy she sounded. Oh well. If he thought she'd be a dumb blonde he had better watch out. She couldn't beat him, but she was much better than a blonde.

[Jazmin]

Stree nearly jumped out of his skin as a voice pierced the silent air, and his eyes whipped towards a young girl. His wrist throbbed, and he tilted his head back was a groan of pain. He never wanted his anger to get the best of him ever again. This was totally uncomfortable.

Wincing at the pain it caused, Stree pulled his hood further up onto his head, being sure his eyes - and most of his trademark scar - were covered. He couldn't risk this woman knowing him. He was too experienced for that.

Taking his torn shirt into his wounded hand, Stree reached into his sweatshirt pocket and drew out his switchblade. It felt awkward to hold it with this hand, but it was a small price to pay. Wonder if I can run like this, he thought to himself, knowing that blood-loss would slow him down.

Testing his legs, Stree began at a slow walk. His thumb found the button along the knife handle, and he flicked out the long blade with skill. The blade caught the moonlight, flashing a pale blue. Stree realized that he could walk just fine, and he picked up his pace to a more brisk walk.

His head began to hurt, and he was at his limit. A brisk walk was his maximum speed. Good enough.

She had a guitar case strapped to her back. He couldn't make out her full physical appearance, and was grateful. If he couldn't , neither could she.

He would only give her one warning, one chance to get away, one word to let her know he wanted peace and loneliness, and one chance to bolt before she died.

"Run."

[Teddy<3]

Lacey watched the figure walk toward her, head tipped to one side. She let her mouth curve at one corner, forming a small smirk. This would be interesting. An injured gang member and a lowly musician. Lacey couldn't hold in the soft chuckle that followed. At the sight of the switchblade flashing in the moonlight, Lacey returned her head to it's natural position and stood straight and still, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

"Run."

The word should have terrified her, sent her running far from this predator. But it didn't. She simply stayed where she was, trying hard to keep the smirk off her face, and failing miserably.

"Pretty nifty thing you got there." she commented, eyeing the knife with a grin.

Her body tensed as she waited for the gang member to attack her. She was fully exposed to him, he could easily stab her chest, stomach, throat, head, et cetera. She wouldn't bother with defending herself. Really there was no need. Her life wouldn't impact anything if it was gone.

[Jazmin]

Stree felt his temper flare up, sending one small burst of energy through him, just enough for him to be able to sprint for maybe a second or two. Good enough, he summed up. With this sudden burst of energy he took a threatening, quick jump closer.

Like a bison, he gave warnings before actual charging. False charges, images of threats.

Stree felt a cruel smile come over his lips. "It is pretty spiffy, isn't it? When it's red, it looks even cooler." The Drip hurled himself forward, ignoring the pain it caused, taking the young woman to the ground with little effort. It didn't take much energy to throw your weight on someone. His switchblade, being inaccurate in his unused hand, only grazed her shoulder as he aimed for the side of her neck.

OOC:: can't do much more without power-playing.

[Teddy<3]

Lacey gasped as she was pulled down by the man, instinct fueling her next move. She raised her flat palm and moved it toward his face, cringing at the loud sound of her hand meeting his face. Pulling her hand back to he side as though he had burned her, all the color drained from her face.

"Shit! Sorry dude. That was -- you scared me and -- it was just instinct." Lacey rushed to defend herself, green eyes wide and lips parted in a small "o". She just slapped a Drip.

Realizing that she was now close enough to see the man, Lacey's eyes darted briefly across his face. The first thing she noticed was his hair.

Ew! He's a blonde. Well there goes all my sexual attraction for a bad boy. Lacey thought with an inward sigh. Then forced her train of thought back to what she had just done. Slapped him.

[Jazmin]

Stree's head whipped to the side as her flattened palm struck him. His hood slid back on his head, showing his eyes, his scar, and his hairline.

Her babbled apologizes hardly registered in his mind. He pinned her shoulders to the cool grassy ground, holding the tip of his blade dangerously close to her neck, straddling her hips, effectively pinning her. Lifting one hand, he struck her cheek, his heart cringing at the fierce sound of skin on skin.

"What do you want?" he snarled, placing his hand next to her head. His knife brushed her jugular. "Who sent you here?" His mind flew in every possible direction. Another gang could have sent her as bait to lure out a practiced Drip, capture him. Stree's light blue eyes dashed in every other direction, checking to be sure the coast was clear. He couldn't see anyone, but that didn't lower his guard at all.

"Well?" he sneered, pressing his knife closer to her. He wouldn't draw blood yet. All he wanted to do was give her a hard scare.

[Teddy<3]

Lacey pressed her lips together, trying to swallow down a laugh. Her attempts were useless. A loud laugh burst through her lips. She struggled to compose herself, taking a few deep breaths.

"Me? A gang member?" she said, exaggerating her shock. She still had a smile on her face as she said "I'm not working for anyone. The name's Lacey. I'm just a musician. Not a member of any gangs. Calm down. We both know you aren't in any condition to go picking fights anyway."

Lacey cast her gaze pointedly to the man's wrist. She knew the Drip was still stringer than her, but she had an advantage. She could move fast. For once, she was even with a Drip. Although she was in no mood to fight.

[Jazmin]

Stree blinked a couple times before he relaxed slightly, pulling the knife away from her throat and resting it on her chest. "And so what if I'm in no condition to fight?" he began hotly, but bit his tongue and stopped himself. He didn't need to yell at her.

Sliding back from her hips, Stree stood up slowly and stepped off of her, being careful to move nice and slowly so his head wouldn't hurt.

"Don't you think it's a little dangerous to be strolling through the streets at night, Lacey?" he asked, using her name pointedly. "And to top it all off, you decided to stop and talk to a Drip. Are you mad?" He offered out his hand - the one that wasn't bleeding - to help her up. He felt a wave of nausea breeze through his body, and he grimaced, swallowing down the disgusting feeling. He knew that his wrist had probably opened up with the sudden movements. He couldn't afford to lose much more blood without passing out.

[Teddy<3]

Lacey sighed, pulled herself to her feet, and briskly brushed off her jeans. She glared at the Drip's bleeding wrist.

"First, I am not mad. I was curious. Second, are you stupid? she said sarcastically, grabbing his hand and pulling his wrist closer to her face. "You need to take it easy. Sit down." she said, releasing his hand and glaring pointedly at him, one hand resting on her cocked hip.

Without waiting for him to do it himself, Lacey pushed him down as gently as she could. She dropped to the ground in front of him, knees held to her chest. Resting her chin on one knee, she stared at the wound again.

"How did you even get that? she asked.

(OOC: Sorry it's short, I can't really write much. And I'm running out of muse.)

[Jazmin]

Stree didn't think that she would grab his hand, or even touch him, so when her fingers yanked his arm to her, he couldn't stop the scream that forced up his throat. Using his free hand, he slapped her hand away and pulled his arm to his chest.

With a gasp, Stree found that he couldn't keep his balance with so little blood, and fell back onto his ass. Pain rushed up his spine and to his skull, and he groaned in pain. "You could have just told me to sit and I would have," he grumbled, holding his head and tugging his hood further up.

"I, uh, punched a window," he said slowly, finding that his reason was stupid. "A piece of glass that stayed in the sill sliced my wrist open."

[Teddy<3]

Lacey bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to hold down her laughter. Of course, with her little self-control, the laugh burst through her lips anyway. She managed to calm herself down quickly, but an amused smirk stayed on her face.

"Really? You punched a window?" she said in pointed disappointment. She had been hoping for him to have hurt himself in a fight or something. Not by getting his ass kicked by a window.

Lacey grabbed his hand again, pulling it over to her. She pulled off the wrap that was already on his arm, wanting to clean the cut. It was obvious he wouldn't have bothered. She let go briefly, sliding her guitar case over her head and resting it on the ground beside them. She opened it and pulled the red and black bandanna out of it. Quickly, she ripped off a strip of cloth, then grabbed the Drip's hand again.

"Why would you pick a fight with a window? Run out of innocent pedestrians?" Lacey asked while pulling a bottle of water put of her guitar case. She uncapped the lid and poured some onto his hand, using the corner of the ripped bandanna to clean off the blood, being as gentle as she could when sliding the wet cloth over the tear in his skin. She then took the strip and pressed a part of it tightly over the cut, wrapping the cloth tightly around his wrist and tying it.

Holding the man's hand in one hand, she held it up, studying her work. The cloth would hold for awhile, at least long enough for him to get a band aid or something. And the cut would have less of a chance of getting infected now that it was cleaned. She patted his wrist with a smile, releasing his hand and standing. 

"There ya go. Now it should be fine for awhile, but get an actual band aid on it. Or even better go to a doctor." Lacey said, closing her guitar case and arrogantly tossing the bloodied cloth to the man. She put the case back over her head and stared down at the Drip.

"What's your name anyway?" she asked.

[Jazmin]

Stree winced as she latched onto his wrist again. "I don't just prey on every living thing I see, you know," he told her, his voice strained. "I just have anger problems that I would prefer to take out on inanimate objects." He had to slow himself on inanimate. That word was never easy for him. "I'm clumsy when I'm mad, and that's no good in battle. Says so in the rules."

Biting his lips as she dumped the chilled water over his skin, Stree brought his free hand up to his face and pushed against one of his temples. His mother had always done that to keep him calm. When she began to dab away the water with the cloth, he let out a small moan of pain and pressed harder against his temple.

When she had finished, her little pat didn't hurt as much. He pulled his hand back and admired the neat wrapping around it.

Stree stiffened at her question. "Uh, you can't know my name," he said quickly. "It's the rules. And I've already broken one of them by letting you help me. I don't make the rules, I just try to play by them." He tucked his legs underneath him and slowly stood up.

"Thank you for helping me, though," he said quietly. "You just saved my mom a lot of trouble." He laughed uneasily. His mom was the reason he was out here. She had been the one to break it to him that she might be getting a divorce with Stree's father. A new feeling of anger pricked at the back of Stree's neck, but he pushed it down.

No more window-punching, he told himself firmly.

[Teddy<3]

Lacey's head tipped to one side as he mentioned the rules. She knew all gangs had their rules, she'd just never known what any of them were. She was tempted to laugh at the rule about not getting help from other people. That was simply stupid.

As curious as Lacey was, she knew not to question the rules. "Alright then. I'm sorry you had to break a rule to get help for your arm. Maybe I'll see ya around, stranger." Lacey said, giving the Drip a quick smile, flashing brilliant white teeth. 

She nodded once to him and began walking down the street. This encounter had really surprised her. Never had she imagined she could have a decent conversation with a murderer. She never thought she would ever help a gang member, especially a Drip. She had lost her best friend to them. She just didn't understand how she could look that young man in the face and not remember what his kind had done. 

Lacey shook her head. She dent need to think of this. That was in the past. And she didn't have any intentions on meeting the guy again.

[Jazmin]

Stree felt something inside of him twitch as she turned and walked away. What was this? Longing? He didn't want to be alone for some reason. But why?

"Wait!" he cried out, getting up and running after her. The edges of his vision faded out and he felt a little numb, but he could still run. He had felt this before. It was like when you had been lying down for a long time and suddenly stood up. Everything rushes to your head but it's somehow tolerable.

"Stree Hatchet," he panted when he caught up to her. "My name is Stree Hatchet." He took a couple deep, silent breaths. Panting was so unattractive. He knew that sounded gay, but it was honestly what he thought. He hated when people panted; it showed lack of fitness and laziness, two of things he wasn't. Ducking his hands into his front sweatshirt pocket, Stree ran his fingers along the barrel of the pistol that he had carried.

Sudden realization hit him. Now he could understand why he didn't want to kill her. "I think I sat behind you in freshman year, in English class." he said quietly, mainly to himself. He wasn't sure if she had heard, but he didn't care. He could only remember the short girl that sat in front of him.

He had had the smallest of crushes on her. Dear God, I'm so glad I gave up on that, he told himself. Dating someone who is that much of a... well, it wouldn't be good.