kingdomsofrain | picture prompt meme

When he'd seen them moving in, Dean had thought the women could be considered attractive by anyone who cared about those things. This, though. This woman is almost unreal.

"Charming, aren't you?" Of course Mrs. 'I Stepped Out Of A Fashion Magazine And Into This World' would have no time for pleasantries. (As if Dean usually offered pleasantries, himself. As if he hadn't been ready to jump in and start giving the woman an earful.) "I came to inquire whether this grotesque symphony of sound is going to be continuing past... let's say now. You aren't alone here, you know."

Edited 2018-03-18 04:42 (UTC)

Isolde tilts her head, not particularly caring. "We are twelve women in one space, Ghoul. We are going to make noise whether we like it or not. The only thing you can do in invest in some earplugs or turn the radio up louder."

She is about to mention he's shocked he has working ears.

"Oh, please. I'm not suggesting you keep quiet as a tomb, human. I'm merely requesting that you take it down a notch or five." He folds his arms, eyes hard behind his sunglasses. If this is the way these women carry on, it's going to be an awfully long... week, month, God, he hopes they don't plan on staying for years. He'll throw a fit if that's the case. "I don't think it's too much to ask."

He shouldn't be surprised. The pretty ones always think the world revolves around them. (Because Dean Domino doesn't operate anything like a similar assumption. Of course not.)

Edited 2018-03-26 07:29 (UTC)

"Human? You must have me mistaken for some high rollers spoiled little toy, you radiation filled cunt." The insult said with venomous words and her steel grey eyes turning a burning orange.

It's much like when a snake bares it's fangs. If he dares to try, she would not mind finishing off what atomic fire could not.

There's a moment where Dean feels an iced brush of concern. The initial shock passes quickly, though, and he tilts his head at her. Interesting. Or it's just a pain in the ass, another freak he’s stuck dealing with. It isn't as if he hasn't seen strange sights before. He spent a couple hundred years living in a poisonous fog and fending off ghost people, for God's sake.

Still. Not knowing what this creature is, he'll have to play a little more careful. At least try keeping a semi-civil tongue in his head. "Fine. Whatever you are, then, banshee or siren or witch or creature of the flame, I'm only asking for a little cooperation.

"And you ought to take it as a compliment. You pass yourself off very well as a human." Well. Well enough, anyway.

"I only wanted to make a point here, we possibly could not keep to your standards of noise, even if we tried. So the problem is with you, not us." She sniffs a bit and tosses her hair just for good measure. And a matter of fact... "Why do you spend all your time alone in this place anyway? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Edited 2018-03-29 05:41 (UTC)

"So flattered you've been keeping track of my movements." Or lack thereof; she's not wrong in her assessment. The truth is, he'd gotten used to solitary life in the Sierra Madre. The thought of going out, of mingling with others, is exhausting. And dealing with the stupidity of people? Ugh. No one could pay him enough for that. Then, too, he doesn't exactly know anyone in the neighborhood. "As much as I'd love to hit the Saturday-night martini bars with my buddies, the luster of nightlife starts to fade after a couple hundred years."

Isolde... actually sorts of feels some amount of pity for the poor ghoul. He's sort of lonely here without living friends.

"That always happens, but it's not a reason to give up hope. I'm 621 years old... I think. Everyone that is long lived has that, but what matters if you're willing to get out in the world. It never changes, it's filled with idiots to laugh at."

While he's no fan of pity, it's been a while since anyone spoke to Dean with something approaching understanding. It's almost... Comforting, really. It's for that reason that he doesn't snap back at the woman (and maybe, just maybe she's not so bad after all.)

"You're not kidding, are you? And here I thought I was ancient. No offense intended, of course.

"Never been one for hope. Still. I do love a good idiot. They provide endless material for entertainment. And I suppose I could use a bit more excitement in my life."

Edited 2018-03-30 05:05 (UTC)

She's old, Dean. ~~Old as balls.~~ She knows a thing or two about about constantly feeling alone because all your friends are dead and you have to make new ones. Such is the curse of being long lived, especially in the Wasteland where even the some of the people that are longer lived can be taken out by a human thing.

But you must go on, try to hold on to whatever companion you can have by any means necessary. Because living long and not having companionship is the absolute worst thing, and she's been downstairs.

Isolde shakes her head. "It's fine. I'm older than the pre-war US. I remember coming here by boat."

"That's the spirit. If nothing else, spite can encourage you."

Edited 2018-03-31 04:57 (UTC)

A trouble is, he's never been able to find suitable companionship. Not that he's really tried. And not that he's had many opportunities in his life as a ghoul (it's a sad fact that ghost people make terrible conversation partners; just try approaching them, and they'll chop your head off). And, well, it isn't as if Dean Domino was the friendliest person alive when he was human. He's always been better at making enemies. Or rivals. Or bittersweet... scratch that, just bitter acquaintances.

Would it be nice to find someone worth knowing in the Wasteland? He likes to think not, likes to think he doesn't need anyone and that making nice with anyone would really cramp his style. But there are times he grows weary of his own company. Times he even thinks that maybe, maybe he's missing out on something. That there's more to life than holing up inside his rooms churning over old grudges.

"Impressive. You're something special, aren't you?" There's no real warmth in the words - more a distanced curiosity - but there's also no hint of mockery. He might be starting to disdain her just a little less.

At her final remark, he snorts a laugh. “Spite and bitterness have always been my motivators of choice. ...I suppose I might put them to better use.”

Better to have enemies than no one, rivals, bitter acquaintances, all are better than no one. Trust her on this.

Isolde smiles at him, brilliant, haughty and at once rueful. "I know."

"You know, if you want to you could come with me for a night to a bar,
we could laugh at all the human idiots. Open up their throats if they bother us... it'll be fun."

Edited 2018-04-03 14:04 (UTC)

Oh, he has plenty of enemies. They're just kind of dead. Have been dead for two hundred years. In order to make new enemies he'll have to get to know people, or at least be around people, and so far that just hasn't been his scene.

She gets half a smirk with her 'I know.' While Dean doesn't always care for confidence in others - most people have no right thinking they're head and shoulders above anyone - he's starting to think maybe this woman (or whatever she is) has earned it. The jury's still out on that, of course, but there's a better chance with her than most.

"Taking pity on a recluse?" He cocks his head, considers. "No... I don't think you're one for pity, are you? Not worth the time or effort.

"I do like the way you think." Granted that he's less inclined to open up throats, more to let loose a flurry of positively scathing remarks. "Not sure how I feel about 'fun,' but I haven't had a good drink in ages."

"No... pity is only for pet's and potential victims. You aren't any of that." Honestly, putting this old ghoul through such things would be rather... redundant. He survived the bombs and a decaying old hotel, even she knows her limits here. (And feral ghouls are annoying creatures. She likes Dean's barbed wits.)

"Well, it's a start at least. Just think about it, alright?"

Though he doesn’t know what she means by ‘pets,’ he’s pretty sure she isn’t talking about goldfish. (Are goldfish even around anymore? Probably have fangs and cases of lung cancer if so.)

And god, thank you, he’s only met a few feral ghouls in his time, but he finds them endlessly tedious.

“I may just do that.”

He looks her up and down again. “Well, Isolde. Against expectations, it hasn’t been entirely wretched meeting you.

"As for our little disagreement..." There's a wave of the hand, a dismissive gesture. "I suppose I can survive a small amount of noise."

"And all this time I thought I was going to have to burn a person to ashes and take their own for my own..." That's not the thing you say to potential friends, but Isolde doesn't seem to care.

"But I like you, Mr. Domino. And for that, I will try to get the girls to tamp down their noise. Consider it a favor."

picture prompt meme

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