LIGHT IT UP LIKE IT'S INDEPENDENCE DAY | open

[Margaery]

MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON

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I REMIND YOU OF THE DAYS
YOU POURED YOUR HEART INTO

[b]"What's with all the ruckus? A girl's just trying to enjoy her lunch in peace without- Oh."

It appeared as if Bast and Hazel had both brought someone else out to play today. How interesting. She was aware, through Margaery's memories and general perception, that Bast had three joint souls, but whatever had seemingly seized control of Hazel was left a complete mystery to her. Genevieve wasn't quite a fan of the unknown but let her lack of understanding of Hazel slide, instead opting to study the both of them through narrowed eyes. Different. Unhinged. Unbothered. Gods above, could she relate. And nobody seemed to be demanding that Bast or Hazel return to them, that it was awful that they were here instead of them. Why? Why were they treated differently?

The girl that so easily called Bast a 'boy-toy' reminded her of herself and yet, none of her clanmates had their panties in a bunch over the occurrence. She struggled to understand where anyone drew the line and determined that Genevieve would be alienated for being apart of Margaery whereas these two were not. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. And there it was again: that impulse to slaughter everyone where they stood and feast upon their blood until there was absolutely nothing left. But she couldn't do that, not with Margaery stirring in the back of her mind and demanding Genevieve to ask if Bast was okay. She didn't humor her. All she could feel was that programmed hatred and her own, burning hunger. It would be so lovely to rip her "friends" apart... why did Margaery insist upon so fiercely protecting them?

A surge of unfamiliar calm suddenly enveloped her, the breath that Genevieve had been holding escaping through parted lips in that moment. Margaery had sensed her agony, her desire to kill, and neutralized the situation before she could impulsively dig claws that had unsheathed themselves into the nearest person's - Suiteheart's - neck. No clanmates would fall due to Genevieve's fury, not today anyways. Talk to them, love. Maybe you'll actually make a friend, Margy's voice rang in her head, causing red-hued eyes to roll. A friend? Her? That was ridiculous. Aerona hadn't even been her friend, just a business partner, and she failed to see how she could ever be anything more than intrigued about Zaniel and Ti.

"Who's the one with the nice ass?" She finally inquired devilishly, her typical wicked charm reappearing. She had caught that bit upon arrival and well... it was Genevieve for goodness sake: she had to know. A glance would be cast in Bast's direction, a laugh following the action. Withdrawal was a bitch, she most certainly could attest. Poor baby, he must feel like he's dying. "You could always drink with me," She offered with a wink, "I will say: I make a mean bloody mary." Who cares if Bast drinking and partaking in drugs or whatever was against the rules? Rules had never applied to Genevieve nor would they ever and neither of the medics did much to particularly scare her. "You could come too, sugar. I'm sure we'd all have a wicked good time." Especially because they don't seem to have excruciatingly long sticks lodged up their asses... it'll be good for me to partake in a little fun with people more my speed.

© MADI