<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/qWqNTXg.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Dara Kurova (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12369710#msg12369710)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>Las Vegas, Nevada |  April 14, 2013 | 02:25 PM<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Olivia Moretz<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Nursing a hangover<br/><hr/>Ugghhhh! Las Vegas was to<i>hot</i>. To hot and to damn bright – which was kind of funny coming from someone like her. If she weren’t nursing the massive hangover currently beating at her dehydrated brain like a jackhammer, brightness wouldn’t be an issue. Not with her abilities. Yet there she was, wearing sunglasses like some plebeian<i>mundy</i>. She’d cursed the sun a thousand times over by the time she made it to the tattoo parlor down the street from the shitty apartment she shared with her sister.<br/><br/>Her hair was left an utter mess, a chaotic mass of frizzy white she apparently hadn’t had enough fucks to brush before she decided to go out into public. Her ripped, faded blue jeans sagged low on her hips - several sizes too large for her - and were only kept up by the lopsided, half buckled belt that had somehow missed several loops in her pants along their way around her. Her black t-shirt, while threadbare, was rather unremarkable in comparison – except that it had been put on backwards and the tag was sticking up by her neck. So yeah, you get the picture, she pretty much looked like a mess. The only thing about her that didn’t look messy where her shoes – dark blue Chuck Taylor high-tops – somehow she’d managed to tie them without issue.<br/><br/>The moment she entered the tattoo shop she actually sighed in relief at the darker atmosphere, not to mention the air conditioning. Air conditioning was expensive, and they had a shitty window box at home they couldn’t afford to run as much as she and Shae would have definitely liked. Dara kind of wanted to just flop down and hug the cold tile floors… Maybe wait until they call the cops so she could be dragged off to an air conditioned jail cell. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Sure the food was shitty but it was food, at least. They had books too. Then again, she was pretty sure you needed money to get books and she was even more sure that no one would be donating to her commissary.<br/><br/>Wait, what was she doing again? Dara squinted as she pulled her sunglasses back and let them rest over the top of her head. Oh, right, tattoo parlor. Even the bell ringing behind her sliced through her brain like a rusty, dull blade – slow and painfully. It had stars bursting before her eyes and she silently swore to herself that she’d never drink fuckin’ tequila again. The way she rather violently cringed and shuddered at the sound probably made her look like another one of those homeless drug addicts that constantly wandered the streets these days. She wouldn’t be surprised if the owner instantly told her to<i>gtfo</i>just at the sight of her, but that didn’t stop her from wandering further into the room – eyeballing the various displays of art strewn all over the place.<br/><br/>When an attendant finally made their way to the front, Dara actually<i>flinched</i>at the sight of her.<i>Dear lord</i>, who the hell was this bright pink haired monstrosity?! ”Thanks.” She muttered almost apologetically. ”I like the name.” She added as she made her way to the counter nearest the woman and leaned over it, flashing the woman her wrists. ”Yes, actually. I need these babies colored and touched up, think I can get that done here?” She inquired, giving the woman all the time she needed to examine the two hollow, black, five point stars that sat at the center of each of her inner wrists. To the eyes of any professional it was clear they hadn’t been done properly and were probably rather crudely imprinted on her the good ol’ fashioned way. The ink had already started to fade and as someone that didn’t look like she was much older than 18, that was a pretty bad sign when the question of professionalism came into play for the previous tattooist.<br/><br/>”I was fifteen, hormonal and pretty damn emo. I thought it was a good idea to tattoo myself.” She rolled her eyes at the memory. In all honesty the two stars were kind of oblong too, especially the one on her right wrist – which was clearly done with her off hand. ”It was kind of meant to be a tribute to my twin sister and I, we were separated at the time and as the melodramatic teen I was back then I thought ‘blah blah blah, no pain could compare, blah blah blah.’ And all that stupid junk.” She snorted, sounding about as annoyed with herself any grown adult would with their idiot kid. "Think you could help me make it look less retarded?" Dara flashed the woman a sheepish smile.