Villain Or Not

2; distant chatters

• burning bridges - Bea Miller •

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you left me with a craving i can't fill

got me wondering what i had yesterday

tell everyone i'm fine, but i'm still

sitting here, choking on the aftertaste

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The vodka burns down her throat painfully as she swallows the alcohol, and Salera drags a sleeve across her mouth, revering in the bitterly sharp taste. Her expression doesn't change at the acrid sour taste, though. Salera loosens her grip around the cup, leaving behind bloody fingertip imprints, and pushes the glass towards the bartender without a word.

He gives her a wary stare, and picks up the frosty vodka bottle, tipping a generous amount into the elegantly cut glass, now stained crimson. The clear liquid sloshes out the sides, splashing onto the table. He propels the tumbler back towards her, and withdraws his hands quickly as if the air around her will burn him. 

Maybe it will, with how furious she is. 

After missing Axa again, losing another fight, anything that makes her tired, the kind of tired that sinks down into your bones and feels like it'll never leave, Salera likes to find a bar. A small one in town, never a big corporation or chain restaurants. The kind of suspicious shops that lurk behind dark corners, lit up twenty four hours a day. Those are where no one recognizes her, or if they do, they're too drunk, or too scared to approach. 

And that's where she will spend the night, drinking away the pain to merely a numb ache till the stars have had time to appear, and fade back away into the darkness again. Then she drags herself back to wherever she's found a temporary place, and fall onto her bed with wisps of dreams with a blue eyed demon haunt her memories. Always a rock's throw away, a few seconds faster than she can move, a step out of her reach.

She drags her mind back to the bar, tuning into the quiet clinks and whispers sounding behind her. Low chatter resonates through her thoughts, drifting into the ordinary background noise. Salera stares blankly at the decorated wine bottles on the wall, covered in curling font across pale yellowing paper, declaring inconsequential dates and letters. 

They hang precariously from a thin string, meant more for decoration than actual use. Salera knows if she's focused enough, the string was be cut in the matter of milliseconds, and shattered shards of blood-red will paint the walls messily. 

The bartender swipes a wet rag across the counter, leaving clear droplets gleaming on the metallic covering, and backs away again dubiously. Footsteps echo across the floor behind her, and a man stumbles next to her, leaning hazardly on the trembling crimson stool. She surveys him, glare flicking across his face, and categorizes him away as extremely hammered and probably homeless. "Hey! You're that girl from the news." He says delightedly, eyes lighting up in recognition, and Salera , but her glance flickers back down at her drink, too tired to bother answering the question. 

"Hey. Hey!" He persists, annoyingly, alcohol tinted breath pushing against her midnight locks. She lets out a small sigh, fingers itching to send something flying at his chest. Something sharp, preferably. Tipping the last of the tart drink down, she puts the glass back down silently on the shining surface, and stands up to leave, fingers pushing off the cold table. 

Mid-step, Salera is suddenly stopped by an invisible force, and she whirls around to see the man's fist curled around the edge of her jacket, holding her back. "Wait—" He utters a word, and something snaps in her. 

The next moment seems to last an eternity. 

She blinks, dazed by her sudden flare of anger, and a blade flies across the room, light as silver and almost impossible to catch if you weren't looking for it.  Lined tumblers in the room instantaneously splinter and crack, the sharp sound of breaking glass echoing through the silence. Crystalized fragments spray through the walls, embedding themselves into whatever surface available. 

Including flesh and skin, if someone happened to be too close to their cup. Eyes fly to her figure in shock, and the familiar shades of red and white drips steadily down the tables, the sickly scent of intoxicating liquor filling the bar heavily. 

Salera pulls her hood over her head unfalteringly, and stalks out of the bar without a second look back. 

She doesn't hide the small smile that curls across her lips, though.

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