We're all rotten, buried and forgotten,

Living it up underground

"Oh hell!" She exclaims, her eyes growing wide as she snatched the timeworn photograph from Isolt's hand. "I don't think I have many pictures left anymore.." She states in disbelief, studying the comical expressions on the younger versions of themselves. "Well I think you look 'STUNning'!" She emphasized the word stunning. That iconic impish grin fastens firmly upon her features, an almost mirror image to the one in the photograph.

"Oh please! It wasn't that bad. Especially if we were going to a concert or comic con. People spend hours working this kind of magic." Even she knew it was terrible but it was one of those grade A ideas that had to be acted upon. It was all carefully planned out, from stealing her mother's makeup and decorating her friend's face like a supermodel! "What do you say to round two?" Her eyebrows quirked up in that mischievous way, her voice holding that sing-song threat that certainly lacked the innocence she pretended to have. "I'm sure we could drum up much better colour selection than what I snatched from my mom's makeup drawer.." She snickered to out loud, eyes glinting with dangerous intentions.

"I see blues and greens in your future. I've learned to blend a little better.. A little.." She teased perking up as she spoke with an arrogant smirk. It was like they were back to being youthful little girls again, without a care in the world to mar their little minds. But so much has happened, far too much. They weren't those sweet innocent girls anymore. They were marred by the abrasive sands of time and the devious creatures that dwelled within it.

Then suddenly there was a knock on the door. She tipped her head curiously, oh? Who could that be? Maybe it was the roomie, but then again, didn't she have a key? Her violet eyes peer at Isolt quizzically. For some reason, a knock on the door these days brought on a sense of dread within the raven haired woman. She hated seeing who was on the other side when there was far too much uncertainty in the world, too many of those metaphorical wolves out to get her. Part of her wanted to jump at that door with her friend with a baseball bat in her clutches. Come on. They were at Isolt's house. There weren't any demons kicking down the door here. Her life had probably been far less complicated without Harley in it. The violet eyed woman was like the horseshoe tipped upside down.The black cat constantly crossing her friend's path. She was bad luck, this much was certain no matter how much Isolt would probably declare otherwise.

She scanned through some of the other photos upon the table, it was like no time had passed between them. But those thoughts were shattered when she heard two sets of footsteps walking toward her. Harley careened her neck to capture a glimpse. Those astute vibrant purple eyes caught the movement of Isolt leading a man in tow by the hand. Curious. Could this be the man she had heard about? The fiancé? She noted the gifts he showered upon her friend. Was he in the proverbial dog house? She puts on her best stern face accompanied by an unblinking stare.

Harley stood up, feeling taller than she actually was, taking a step away from the table and toward the duo. Isolt seemed happy but Harley didn't know enough about this man to truly know how troublesome he was. "So this is Damon.." She hums, peering at him as if sizing him up and she is not shy in the way that she judges him. After all, he was going to marry Isolt! She had her work cut out for her. So much time had passed and she was running out of time. Isolt has been talking about her? This could be a good and very bad thing. Just how much did he know? "Uh just how much did you tell him, Iz." Her eyes dart toward the gifts clasped in Isolt's hands.

Perhaps the man was making up for something, gifts like chocolates and flowers were only offered as an 'I fucked up and I'm sorry, forgive my stupid ass' consolation prize. "Chocolates and flowers, hm? Is someone in 'trouble'?" That speculative iconic sarcasm drips with ease from her yet there is a smile brushing across her lips while her eyes narrowed.

Harlequin Ray Westward