harley westward

No black magic can control me and no curse can let you own me

Of all the ridiculous things in her life, a cow and a dinosaur walking into a cemetery surprisingly wasn't the most ludicrous of things. Harley could not help that very thought before, even in spite of herself, she laughed, costume vibrating with it, the hearty sound of it mixed with Isolt brought a thick nostalgia to the spitfire. She quite liked wearing the vinyl skin of something entirely else. That comment left her lips freely, perhaps it was considered morbid, thoughts that seemed to frequent her mind as of late. Those words had meant to sound playful and yet they only served to sound a little on the sad side. You play with vampire psychopaths, the odds of it occurring were far more likely. Considering they could pick out the stems of arteries like picking flowers.

The mention of visiting the famous Marie Laveau's tomb. "You think she's even in there? You know, her spirit or whatever." Harley questioned her cynicism showing and yet of all the supernatural things that occurred within this city and Sacrosanct alone. Who was she to be sceptical of a little lingering magic from a voodoo queen? It certainly couldn't hurt she supposed although she doubted she was just bestowing favour to anyone bold enough to ask... if she was there.. But Harley didn't like asking anything of anyone let alone the dead. "Finne, I don't mind a little... witchy wishes in a graveyard at 2 am. Not sketchy at all but also.. Not.. the worst thing I have ever done either. Plus your little one needs all the help she can get." Of course, it was sketchy as hell and they were probably going to look pretty damn suspect with costumes like these. But what was the fun in that? What could possibly go wrong just two girls hunting for a little notorious witchy juju. After all... hadn't sterling rejuvenated Ace?

The ridiculousness at how they looked seemed to spur on all the more amusement. The ridiculous rhetoric flowed with ease that could only stem from good friends. More laughter filled that rickety old hotel room, she swore she even heard the faint laughter of something other either mocking or just as amused within those old thin walls. Isolt's laughter jostled the rubber udders that clung to the costume flopped about to only intensify the unforgettable comedy. The girls boldly moved through the New Orleans streets, companions on the prowl. It wasn't long that their presence prompted a flurry of photography, Harley grateful that her face was covered within this costume. She could tell Isolt seemed to tug at the floppy cow headed hood in order to conceal her recognizable features.. Like anyone would recognize them here of all places. Harley bumped into Isolt comedically, her shoulder nudging against her companions own. "I told you that I was the least of your problems.. People do love a good spectacle." She said in reference to her worry of Harley's mischief.

As the pair strolled along the side walks toward the cluster of bustling nightlife, Isolt announced how she wished she could have gotten drunk. "Oh, I do too my friend." Harley concurred, it had been far too long since they were able to truly let loose. It was fortunate that Harley doubted they needed libations to find some kind of entertainment in a place like this. Speaking of which it was like fate had heard her thoughts as they had found themselves a good enough bar to at least start off at. It was the mention of a drink dubbed, Resurrection that drew a look of bafflement concealed by her costume's vinyl dinosaur head.

"What the monster fuck is a resurrection, Isolt? Sounds like something old men take to get it up. Although, I will drink it for you.... Maybe they got.. A virgin blood margarita or something.... Uh, I don't actually mean an actual virgin." That earned a wide beaming smile that was all trouble from the looming bouncer. Harley tilted her head to catch him in the corner of her eye, he was a kind-faced burly mocha hued man with larger than average muscles. Most notably was his skyscraper height. It was clear that he was indiscriminately other.. Warlock maybe? Harley had peel off the costume's head along with ID, unable to avoid the buzzkill of an impromptu face-reveal. She hadn't bothered putting the head part back on when she walked through the door that magically opened. The face part of her costume fell limply back like a hood while her bodacious dino body still commanded far too much attention. The pair traipsed into a narrow black hallway lined with dim led lights and while it wasn't that narrow.. It was enough to make someone with claustrophobia a little squeamish. Good thing she wasn't. At the end of that tunnel lay an archway draped with a wall of colourful plastic beads and bobbles that glinted, some glowed a mystical green. Witchlight? Judging by the magic that lingered in this place it would hardly be surprising. Harley led the way, peeling back the beads with a fearlessness and little concern as the bluesy music played like a beacon to draw one in.

Within the much larger space, the lights danced a wide array of colours, loud music joyously playing on the speakers that were discretely concealed with ornate coverings. There was not a single inch of this place that wasn't covered in decorations, doll limbs, heads, voodoo dolls, fake seaweed. What the fuck? Or at least she thought it was fake... and sea-creatures dangled within a net above their heads, she swore she saw something moved but the lights shimmering seemed to make this place seem like it was a living thing and not some place. There was a thick scent coming from somewhere, one that the raven-haired shifter could not place. Perhaps one she could almost pinpoint of earthy and swampy all mixed into one.

"What is this place? It looks like tripping but I'm not." Harley mused taking it all in. It was a lot. Yet the woman seemed to treat it like most things, with a boldness and intense curiosity. They passed a vibrant orange-haired girl with cat eyes and tiger tripes that tattooed her face who looked like she was on a mission of anyone's guess, she seemed hardly bothered by dressed women besides a mild glance. Perhaps with a face like that nothing was surprising. Harley tried to study if they were tattooed, or painted.. Or... truly part of her skin. "I guess we fit in more than we realized.." She offered in her usual sarcastic manner, her full lips quirked into a grin.

The room was large and populated with at least 30 or so guests scattered across the bar. Some clustered with friends.. Some isolated and lonely. There was a man with deep red skin.... And dark blue hair. He looked as though he might have been a demon, you know those stereotypical kind, with the creepy penetrating yellow glowing eyes. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if there were horns within his thick voluminous locks. It was like he could feel Harley's blatant gawking. His chin elevated and his ethereal orangey eyes met her own, not quite yellow but she didn't need to know that. Fuck. Noo thanks. Harley arched a singular dark brow before grasping Isolts arm and tugging her toward the equally ornate bar with only a handful of stools that remained available.

The she-cat leaned smoothly against the bar, placing her costume-clad arm along the polished bar top like she was a local and not a fish out of water. She grasped the laminated menu with a list of drinks they offered, vibrant purple eyes perusing it idly, confused by the way they were organized. "There isn't a single drink I recognize. This is going to be good. Please say you'll order something nonalcoholic at least.... Or you can make my night and order some milk." There was that iconic smirk plastered on her feminine features, that look 110% all Harley and completely willing forget that her world had gone to shit in a fancy wicker handbasket..