she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
It isn’t long after Solace’s arrival that the pair are ruining both hairstyle and makeup alike. Wishbone’s seen her family’s excessive displays of affection plenty of times (hell, she might’ve been a culprit at some point or another) and thinks little of their quick make-out session. In the meantime, her eyes flutter across the crowd in their background, lingering on a unique hairstyle she’s seen several times before.
Bane?
The reflection is quickly cut short by the arrival of Svedka and the red-laced woman Wishbone had seen earlier. Another quickfire smile lights up across the woman’s face, even while her fingers dig deeper still into Ivar’s goddamn sexy hip. It blossoms into a laugh when her brother easily hands Kagerus a fanciful flask, further encouraging their sister-in-law. “Damn, Sved, not everyone can hold their alcohol like us,” she teases but her eyes are curiously on the woman her brother’s arm is wrapped around. She’s familiar, from a not-so-distant memory, and it’s only once she’s bitten the suppleness of her lower lip that it strikes her.
“Nymf! Well fuck me!” — she knows there are those in the vicinity that would love to — “How the hell are you?” Wishbone can remember the ex-Leviathan taking a hiatus away from the community in the wave of her husband’s death, a thing which none in their group faulted her for. Although her leave has been longer than expected, to say the least, Wishbone has always had the mentality of ‘once a Leviathan, always a Leviathan.’
Speaking of Leviathans, Breckin is sliding up out of nowhere to plant a kiss upon Kagerus’ mouth. Another laugh, this one edged by her growing tipsiness, falls from her mouth above the chatter of the party, the splash of the pool, and the clinking of glasses. When her Leviathan welcomes her with that ever-so-dainty nickname, Wishbone smiles. “Breckin, enjoying yourself, I see.” There’s another laugh in the back of her throat, but it’s contained into amusement in the husk of her voice.
Wishbone nearly rolls her eyes at Solace’s suggestion — she’s not that much younger than them, after all — but, ultimately, she’s glad for the distraction of her sister’s goodbye. Although Ivar has specific qualities that drag the lioness from the jungle, the Leviathan leader herself isn’t very good at committing to one man only. There’s too many good bodies (among other things) out in the world.
Svedka is mentioning swimming and then drinks and before Wishbone has time to reply, Ivar is dragging her away. He doesn’t really need to drag her though, for this had been her plan in those moments of subtly toying with him. When they resurface to the party scene, her hair is slightly less perfect and her soft lips are swollen and strangely missing the lipstick that used to adorn them. She could get so fucking used to this.
By the time they’ve reached the group again, one of the glasses is already empty on Ivar’s platter courtesy of yours truly. Her desires sated for the time being, Wishbone finds herself eyeing the swimming pool with a feverish look Svedka will know well. The lithe woman turns to her brother, mischief crossing her face as brightly as if a light had been shined upon the angles of her cheeks. “Shall we, dear brother?”
Without waiting for an answer (the only reason she could see him denying would be Nymf standing at his side), Wishbone is sliding gracefully out of the ivory of her dress. Beneath it lies an equally-pale lace set of lingerie which is just as gaze-drawing as her previous attire had been. The gun is still strapped to her leg, but she’s hellbent on keeping it safe and so she nimbly slips it from her body and moves to hide it beneath her dress (in reality, an easy flick of her fingers sends it just past the dress and beneath the table just nearby unnoticed).
Wishbone shakes out her beach waves, arms stretching up and further revealing the abdominal muscles and curve of her hips. If one looks close enough (which isn’t really that close at all) they might find a newly-placed bruise (crafted by teeth and tongue, to be fair) against the olive skin of her right breast, half-hidden by the lace of her bralette. Before getting into the water, the lithe woman makes sure to grab a nearby shot of something — she’s not really sure what, nor does she care — and down it. The sting of the alcohol is familiar on her throat and in her stomach, lighting another flame to fuel the growing fire.
Whether her brother is fully-clothed or not (hopefully not, at this point), Wishbone moves closer to him, attempting to look innocent. It most likely won’t last for long — she has a bad tendency of losing all hope of a filter when she gets tipsy enough — and when she’s been discovered the lithe woman attempts to powerfully shove Svedka straight into the pool. She might go down with him or she might claim a victory today, but either way her attempt is strong with the force behind her well-trained muscle.
wishbone
honorable mentions: @[Solace], @[Wolfbane] for like 0.5 seconds, @[Svedka], @[Nymf], @[Kagerus], @[Ivar], @[Breckin]
wishbone's lingerie: xxx
