Knife Fighting And Nuns

Heavily reinforced walls and a pressure sealed door keep the din of machinery
from escaping this large room. Row upon row of shiny steel behemoths take care
of the laundering needs of the hotel. Track lighting is combined with
directional lamps to assure that the bustling staff always has exactly the right
lighting to properly tend to any fabrics that cross their hands. To the far
west long press tables have been set under industrial vents, smaller ironing
boards flanking them for more delicate jobs. A rarely used elevator can be
found set into the north wall beside a staircase leading down into the basement.
Due to the full service nature of the hotel it is rare for staff to not be
present and on call at a moment's notice.

* Exits *
south - Laundry - Dry Cleaning Area
down - The Hotel Basement
(Yasmira) A young hispanic woman with thick wavy black hair and mahogany eyes is here. (App 3) [ ] ||

A candle's flame flickers idly, fighting away the darkness as a young latino woman stands in the center of the room with a switchblade in her right hand. Graceful arcs and speedy slashes and stabs are made at the air in front of herself and in her circumference as she seems to be practicing, familiarizing herself with the short weapon. The shiny metal catches the glint of the flame, a random 'strobe' flashing off in any direction every so often.

Never one much for stealth, the steady click of high heels heralds the arrival of the resident stripper. A pair of high-waisted black shorts accentuates this woman's long, lean-muscled legs while at the same time cinching her waist in a provocative manner. The sleeveless red top she wears is partially covered by her shorts, of course exposing a bit of cleavage with the u-shaped neckline dipping low but tied with a couple of red ribbons. In one hand she holds a long tapered candle, while a large black Prada bag is looped around the opposite shoulder. A russet eyebrow lifts as she watches the Latina swipe the air, knowing better than to get too close.

At the rather loudly-announce arrival, Yasmira turns smoothly to face Madison with her knife still at the ready until the candle's flame lends her a flicker of recognition and she closes the blade, tossing it to her left hand and placing it inside that pocket of her jeans. A nod is given to Madison before the girl's thickly accented voice flows from her, "Hello, Miss. Good to see you still fair well"

With a heave of one shoulder, the lovely woman plunks her bag down on a nearby washing machine while heaving a faint sigh of relief. "I'm not sure if anyone is really fairing 'well' with the way things are outside, but yeah I guess I'm managing just fine. I have my stuff," she pats the bag fondly, "It's just too bad I couldn't have gathered more stuff, but I was limited to what I could find at The Empress. I'll make do." With that, she slowly sashays further into the room and, as she gets nearer, the light she holds seems to reflect off a pair of frameless glasses perched on her nose. "What are you doing?"

A small smile forms on the honey-skinned woman's full lips as her posture straightens, "I train. Practice with my switchblade to get better and protect myself. Mister Gabriel helps me." Yasmira's chin lifts a little at the last statement before she walks over to one of the other washing machines nearby, hopping up to sit on it, letting her legs sway from side to side. "I am stronger now…He helps me well."

An utterly vulpine smile traces its way across Madison's plush lips as a chuckle resounds in her throat. "Oh, I certainly wouldn't mind a little help from Mister Gabriel myself. Quite the dashing fellow, a real gentleman, even if he does have peculiar fashion sense," she responds with a gleam in her violet eyes. As she draws nearer to the younger woman, she cants her head curiously to one side. "What with the dragon and Nazi, I never got a chance to ask your name… Mine's Madison, but I'm called Persephone more often than anything."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Madison," she replies with legs still swaying beneath her as she laughs softly. "I am named Yasmira. And you are right. Mister Gabriel is much a gentleman…so kind to me. You have met him now then? You had first thought I spoke of ghosts." She giggles at the end of this, her brown eyes catching the candlelight and holding a brief glimmer of amusement. Her head then tilts to one side with curiosity of her own as she asks, "Why are you called Persephone? It sounds nothing like Madison."

Obviously having learned her lesson from previous nights, Madison moves the candle from one hand to the other to avoid being burned by dribbling wax. "No, I didn't think he was a ghost," she replies at length, her forehead creasing somewhat in thought. "I just thought he was a hallucination. But really I'm not convinced he's -not- just some sort of mass hallucination. He seriously looked like those knights you see at a Ren-Fest or dinner theater, it's crazy!" A light peel of laughter falls from her lips as she slowly shakes her head from side to side. "But he's gorgeous, all rippling muscle and white teeth, and what woman could resist those eyes?" the redhead asks, though the question seems more rhetorical than anything. "When I dance on stage or in private, I'm called Persephone. Therefore, that's how most people know me."

Yasmira laughs happily at Madison's words, one of the first reactions of general personality that the young woman has shown. She shakes her head with a warm glimmer in her eyes, "He does look like a knight, does he not? I wonder what he would say if I called him my knight in shining armor for having saved me?" Her nose crinkles a little before she adds, slipping into her more repressed mode as her voice turns shy, "He is handsome though and his touch gentle for one so strong." She seems distracted now from the whole idea of the redhead's stripper name as her own eyes take a faint dazed look to them, almost that of a swooning young woman…and possibly just that.

Madison lifts the back of her free hand to her nose as she lowers her gaze for a moment, sniffling a couple of times before allowing the hand to fall back to her side. "No, really, he was -wearing- that chainmail stuff when I met him and he said something about chasing down that Godzilla dragon thing that was outside," she insists in her velvety voice as she finally wanders nearer to the same machine Yasmira is perched on. "I think you should call him that. It'll be flattering because saving girls is a very manly thing to do and men love to be reminded of their macho-ness."

"Oh, I know, Miss Madison," Yasmira says with a nod and a little laugh, her legs still just swinging idly as she leans back a little, propping herself up on her hands. "He has worn his chainmail each time I have seen him. But yes, I should call him that. Perhaps he will like it." She glances up towards the dismal realms of the ceiling as she sighs softly, "The most alive I have felt in a long time…but now my thoughts linger to him so strongly."

"It's not a good idea to get too hung up on any one guy, doll," the svelte redhead murmurs as she leans her back against the metal machine, standing right beside where Yasmira sits. One leg bends slightly at the knee, almost as if she can't help but to pose for some unseen camera. "They'll only break your heart ten times quicker and ten times harder than anyone else could. And since you're learning to fight, it's good not to get distracted. It's bad enough when I'm too distracted to dance. I've hurt myself I don't know how many times doing that. I would bet it's worse when you have a pointy object in your hands."

A soft sigh escapes the young latino woman, a longing sigh. "I don't think he would, Miss Madison. He is different…so different from any other man. Special. But I will remember your words. When blade in hand, I focus solely on that. I will learn more though…he wishes me to become powerful. He's already helped me more than months of practicing alone could." She smiles softly to herself, scooting back on the machine and drawing up her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around them as she rests her chin upon her knees.

A crooked smile twists Madison's lips as she silently shakes her head. One hand slides into the back pocket of her shorts, tugging out a rumpled box of cigarellos. Using her crimson painted nails, she pulls one free from the pack and tucks it between her lips. Proving that candles hold more uses than just that of mood lighting, she leans forward and lights the aromatic tobacco stick. The scent is strong, flavored by the nuances of strawberry in the smoking curling up towards the ceiling. She inhales a long, steady breath before pulling the cigarello out of her mouth and expelling a gout of smoke. "I hope you do learn to fight and everything. The people who are still stuck in this hellhole will need all the help they can get to survive. But then I start to wonder what the point of surviving one more night is when it's all getting worse and worse."

"It is always darkest before dawn. That I have learned in my times of hiding in this country. While it gets worse, it only means all grows closer to …what is the word…resolution?" She nods after a moment and her nose crinkles a little at the smoke and she stifles a cough a little before she moves off her perch so that she's no longer in the path of the smoke and stands next to the redhead. "We will fix it somehow. I will do better with my fighting though. He has already taught me my strength within…" A briefly mischievous grin comes to the young woman, curling her lips upwards at the corners.

One eyebrow idly lifts as the lavender-eyed woman steals a glance at her companion. She pulls another drag from the cigarello, her body easing moreso against the machine with every puff. The smoke expelled from her lungs this time is noticeably pushed away from the other girl, with Madison's lips pulling into a silent apologetic smile. "Not even fire seems to have an impact on that crap outside. Maybe if we could get into a Home Depot or something we could gather up every bit of weed killer they have and douse this whole fucking city in it," comes her expert suggestion, the last bit said with more of a growl to her voice.

"I do not know how well this weed killer might do on what not even fire can suppress," Yasmira answers a little skeptically, her brow furrowed in thought a moment. She hrms and glances away after having watched with relief as the smoke trails upwards and away from her harmlessly, "I think what is needed is force. Machetes…chainsaws. Dismantle this whole unnatural nature that has forced itself on us." With that same mischievous grin as before, Yasmira turns back to Madison, moving her hands to the smoking woman's waist and lifting high…remarkably making comically easy work of lifting the woman before placing her back down. "I am still not so strong that I would try to use this switchblade against all that. I would need a bigger blade…machete or something with curve to it likely. Better for hacking." She nods, tapping her chin as she walks away a couple steps as if she'd done absolutely nothing unusual in the least.

Madison draws in a breath from her cherished tobacco just as she's hoisted into the air, her eyes widening remarkably as such a feat. The action apparently catches the woman off-guard, as she starts to sputter and cough after being set back down and pulling the cancer stick free of her mouth. "Shit! You don't look like you could pick someone like me up like that!" she exclaims, true surprise registering across her delicate features. A skeptical eye is cast towards Yasmira as Madison finally finds her breath. "Yeah, a chainsaw would be perfect if we could find one. I bet there are some out there," she nods in the general direction of the outside, "but I'll be damned if I make another run for it."

The young woman turns, finally allowing her proud smile to be seen at her own actions, like she'd been suppressing the huge grin the whole time her back was turned. "I told you. I train. I will make Gabriel proud he chose me to teach. But you're right. We need chainsaws. Machetes work for vines and such, but chainsaws are needed for the trees. This place becomes nightmarish forest." Her brow furrows as the smile fades and she moves back over to the open area in the middle of the room, practicing quickly drawing her blade in a deft motion, closing it and replacing it several times.

As the stripper lets her cigarello reside in her mouth for the moment, the fingers of her free hand dance lightly over her waist as a pensive expression crosses her face. "You know.. with that strong arm of yours and with my penchant for avoiding blows to the head, I think maybe we could get to someplace that has those things," she mumbles around the tube of tobacco. Finally pulling it out of her mouth, a wild grin flashes across her lips. "It's safer during the day so we could go at like noon or earlier, but we have to think of a -place- those weapons would be first. Just think how happy you'd make Gabriel if you took the initiative and brought back weapons that actually -did- something. Maybe we could take that Nazi as a shield…"

Yasmira blinks at Madison and shakes her head vigorously, her thick black wavy tresses tossing wildly about her shoulders, "Mister Bennett would not be happy because he said I am not to leave the hotel. It is too dangerous, daytime or not. Much could be made into weapons here…and since Mister Gabriel wears chainmail…perhaps he has better weapons. Once we could use until a better trip could be made and better weapons found. One step at a time?" Her head cants to the side at her question as she resumes her blade-flicking and storing. "Besides…Mister Freydstadt would make no good shield. He would run and leave us to die. Associate of Mister Gabriel or not…I do not trust him."

Letting a low chuckle roll through her, Madison can't help but to nod her solemn agreement. "The best shields are the ones that stay where they are supposed to. He's not good for much of anything really, is he?" she asks while rolling one shoulder in an almost apathetic shrug. "I think being stuck here without anything to do is driving me up the wall. I can't believe I even considered for one freaking minute going back out there," she grumbles before jabbing her cigarello back into her mouth and turning a needy gaze towards her large purse that sits across the room.

"Maybe you should train…it could not hurt when times are this dark. And since you are a dancer, your muscles must already be fit," Yasmira offers as she still continues her bladework, though now switching to tossing the blade from hand to hand before closing and pocketing the knife. "But yes, the best shields stay still. I should tell Mister Gabriel of Mister Freydstadt's cowardly ways. He would likely be ashamed of him." The young woman's head gives a definitive nod as she continues.

"Train? With whom?" Madison asks, both of her reddish eyebrows rising above the line of her glasses. "I've only seen you, that coward Freystadt, and Lucifer," she explains, holding up a finger for each person mentioned, continuing after a second or two of thought, "that delicious Gabriel, of course, and a blonde woman who looked all out of sorts, the poor thing." She holds up her hand in front of her, staring at it before shaking her head. "I hardly see anyone at all anymore. Who'd teach me to shank somebody?"

"Me, of course," is the latino woman's reply, mild offense in the tone, but more in the form of a pout than anything. "And you said a blonde woman? I have not seen her, though I think I know who you call Lucifer. While I doubt he is Satan incarnate, I fear he likes me not." Her brow furrows and she slips the blade a final time into her pocket as she corrects herself, "Does not like me."

Stubbing out the remainder of her cigarello with a twist of her fingers against the side of the washing machine, Madison lets the rest of it drop nonchalantly to the ground. "I wasn't sure if you could teach me and all, doll, otherwise I would have said something," she offers with a faint smile. "You said yourself you were just learning, but whatever. I guess I could try it. What else am I doing with my days? And maybe you just caught old Lucifer on a bad day, hm? He can be -very- accommodating when he wants to be. Or maybe he just draws the line at girls under eighteen?"

For whatever reason, Yasmira responds in reverse order, her head canting to one side curiously, "Accommodating?" The young woman shakes her head dismissively and then sighs, "I am a little more than just learning though. I have been training several months now. As a several months ago, I was…well…attacked." Her brow furrows, eyes narrowing as she stares off to the darker end of the laundry room.

A fire sparks within those lilac eyes as a lewd grin caresses the dancer's face. "Oh yeah, very accommodating and very skilled at it, too. Though getting to that point is sometimes—" her husky voice cuts off rather unceremoniously as she clears her throat, shaking her head swiftly from side to side. "Sorry, sorry, nevermind about that. Who would attack you? Did you wander into the wrong side of town at the wrong time of night?" she asks, watching the Latina very carefully now.

Yasmira wraps her arms about her midsection as she nods, still staring off into the darkness, a distant look in her eyes…a look that mixes with hatred. "While trying to find my father. I had only a few shops left to try…I should have known when the only entrance was in a back alley. A biker gang…they had to have been a gang. All the same tattoo and way of dressing. I just wanted to find my father. Mother died almost a year ago now. He is all I have left." There is an awkward pause before she adds, "If he is even alive still."

Again, the athletic woman switches the candle from one hand to the other, holding it delicately so as not to dribble any wax on her lightly tanned flesh. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," comes her immediate response, all signs of idle joking set aside. Violet eyes flicker over the younger girl's face as a frown touches her lips. "I bet he was evacuated with everyone else before things got really bad. I dunno how so many people missed the boat, but we did. If you haven't seen him yet, chances are good he's just on the otherwise of those walls," she tries to sound as soothing as she can, even lowering her voice to more of a whisper.

"If…if he was evacuated…he probably got deported. Who knows…he may have already tried looking for me, only to find me gone. The nuns are probably worried sick anyways, but that I did not care about. I just wanted to find him. Now things are horrible," she murmurs the last as she turns to face Madison more, moving back to sit where she had been on the washer as she looks to the woman with a more vacant look in her eyes. "I was taught it is sin if…well. If what should come with marriages comes without. But…what if…it was not your choice? Do you think it still counts?"

After a moment of serious thought, Madison begins to slowly shake her head while never looking away from the traumatized Catholic girl. "I don't think it's a sin if what happened to you was unasked for and unwarranted, but I'm no priest. Hell, I don't think it's a sin in the first place even if you -want- it. I guess that's why religion and me just don't mesh together." She leans back against the machine again, crossing her arms lightly in front of her as her voice takes on an almost amused lilt, "Though I do find it odd you're asking these questions of a woman who takes off her clothes for strange men for a living."

"Not everyone who knows the rules follow them," Yasmira responds simply, sighing softly. "I figured it would be at least worth asking. I just sometimes wonder…if all of it is as it is in scripture. If so…where will I end up when I die? Once I ran away from the boarding school to find Father, I had to do many things I shouldn't. Stolen just to get by. Not that it matters now…at least not so much. I don't think it's stealing if no one is there to sell it and place is abandoned, after all." She gives a half-laugh, a wry smile briefly on her lips. Maybe that's why the city is as it is now. The city was nearly as full of sin as it could handle and then I arrived. You know it wasn't long after. A month or so and then the vines started creeping." The young latino rambles a bit, her gaze idly probing the darkness from her perch.

"Honey," the redhead begins in a whisper while leaning closer to Yasmira, her intent lavender eyes flickering over the girl's face, "Unless you brought some seeds from outer space, I really don't think this is your doing at all. That crap they write about in the holy books is there to control people. It's all about control, always has been. You can't condemn yourself for doing what had to be done to survive. Wouldn't your God want you to live to spread his word to others, if nothing else? Isn't his love supposed to be unconditional or some shit?" A sigh falls from her lips as she pulls away, once more adopting a more normal tone of voice as she, too, peers out to where Yasmira is staring. "Think about all the people who would be condemned to hell and then think about all the people that would be sent up to heaven by those standards. Heaven's gonna be a really vacant place, dear, and hell's going to have the best party ever."

Large doe-eyes turning to gaze at the redhead blinkingly for a minute before she bursts into soft, helpless laughter and shakes her head a little. "You know…you…you do have a point, Miss Madison. I always seem to forget that we can't be perfect. Only try. I just want God to be proud of me in the end though. At least someone, you know?" She sighs and leans back a little as she had before, propping up on her hands and then musing, "If not for the whole stripping, sex, drugs and drinking thing…you'd make a decent nun. They were always the ones to make me feel better at the boarding school."

A burst of genuine laughter echoes around the room as Madison jerks her head around to blink at Yasmira with more than a little surprise. "Me? A nun??" she asks incredulously, pressing her free hand to her chest, just above her erratic heart. "Heaven forbid! I'd have the other nuns clutching their rosaries and begging for salvation from the likes of me," she chuckles still, shaking her head. "Nun," she mumbles again to herself, sighing as the laughter fills her eyes. "But anyhow, I bet that Gabriel would be proud of you. He's someone and apparently someone important. You know what you're doing with that knife."

Laughter bubbles up warmly from within the young Latino woman as well, her eyes watering a little from her own outburst as it takes a while to quieten before she nods, wiping away her tears of laughter, "And again you're right…at least I hope he is proud of me. I will train hard. Each chance I get. You know…don't think it is just my feelings for Mister Gabriel that make me agree, but he must be someone important. I think he will save us in the end. He has taught me so much so far. Perhaps he was named after the Archangel." Her head cants to one side, considering her last statement apparently.

A more sobering expression crosses Madison's face as she pushes away from the washing machine, gracefully making her way back to where she deposited her large purse, which on second thought could be considered a small piece of luggage. "Then we're surrounded by angels and demons. How fitting, really," she mentions as she scoops up her Prada bag, hanging it over her shoulder. "I'm gonna go scrounge up something to eat in what's left of the kitchens, find something to drink, drown my fears, that sort of thing."

"Alright…um…take care, Miss Madison and thank you. Try to find you a good knife…if nothing else, maybe a butcher knife or something and I'll teach you what I can later. Be careful," says the honey-skinned young woman as she nimbly slips off the washer and resumes her earlier practice.

With a smile tossed over her shoulder at Yasmira, Madison purrs in response, "I'll find something nice and sharp since the tazer in my purse won't do a whole lot of good." With that, the steady click of her heels fade as she makes her way out of the laundry area and into the hallway. "Nun," she repeats again to herself with a shake of her head.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License