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Zaria Busto

"I'm looking for the light at the end of the tunnel. I haven't seen it yet, but I feel like it's just ahead."

0 · 678 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Moonscar, as played by Sennen

Groups

Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

Image
The image belongs to Kyrie0201


Nicknames: "Busty" Busto
Age/Date of Birth: 22, January 24

Species: Human
Race: Unknown

Skin Tone:
Height: 5'9", 175.26 cm
Weight: 120 Ibs, 54.43 kg
Build: Slender
Eyes: Slanted, brown
Hair: Black, curly

Appearance: Zaria, a woman of well endowed pride, legs a mile long, and a waist almost too small to support her torso. Her lips are pouty, big, and most likely injected by botox. Her eyes are sharp, and belong to a woman who has an actual brain in her skull instead of long-forgotten oatmeal from three weeks past. She is observant. Her ever-moving eyes state as much.

So begins...

Zaria Busto's Story

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From a window, two yellow eyes peaked out from a spacey room filled with computers and tubes filled with chemicals. The eyes watched the Fenris soldiers and rolled. "Really. You think they ought to be hooting less and patrolling more," said the woman, brushing her white hair out of her face with dark fingers. She adjusted the black-rimmed glasses on her nose and sighed. She wore a white lab coat and had a digital tablet within her hands, similar to an iPad in looks, but much more useful. Much, much more useful.

"This was a mistake, coming here. So far the place has been overrun. The whole planet is filled with these plants! There isn't one sign of a desert anywhere, not even a wasteland to make a safer outpost." she ranted, frowning. "Fucking general needs to start thinking!"

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"Fucking animals they are. And not the aliens, either," spat Zaria as she heard the little piece of news she had received. She stormed over to the main computer, screen spanning halfway across the window, flat and thin, and began to type away furiously on the keyboard, watching life signs crawl away in the thousands upon the screen. Numbers escalated, others went down, and not in the way they should have been. "You think a couple of bloodthirsty Fenris scouts could do better than that," she humphed, hand hovering over the button for the chemical defenses she had created not a week before. She picked up her transmitter and began to speak through it. "FUBAR. I demand you all put on your masks. I am about to activate an exterminator." she said calmly, waiting for a response.

Get one. Please. She needed to test it, at least.

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As the new transmission came through, the scientist's vocabulary became more colorful than it had been before. It was enough to make a Fenris soldier cringe. "I am not staying in the hell of a planet to die!" she cried, activating the chemical gas that sprayed past the scouts and made an even yellow mist around them. Very soon, the aliens might have found themselves choking as the gas invaded their lungs, the chemicals burning away at precious tissue used to hold the body up. She did not use a gun, but she could wipe out hundreds of aliens with just one type of gas.

She thought herself a genius, she did. "Now, for some kind of escape pod or another..."

The setting changes from the-realms to Main Street

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The woman stood still, the black netting on her pale legs catching the attention, followed by the light shining upon the tops of her bosom, lifted by the push-up of the laced bodice. She slowly lifted her hands, and the music became louder, the saxophone blaring. As her arms reached the peek of their height, her head flicked back.

"Ohhhh," came the sigh, in time with the music. She began to walk forward, four inch heels clacking loudly. "There's men," she bent down, taking the cheek of one lucky gentleman in her fingers, letting them slide from his chin, "Everywhere jazz, everywhere booze," She took the drink of another in her grasp, "Everywhere life, everywhere, nowadays!" she sang, pearly whites showing to the audience. Her hips began to shake.

"You can like...the like you're living...you can live the life you like!" She looked toward the man in the back, John, winking.

"You can even marry Harry," She then looked to Lucas, tilting her head. "But mess around with Ike..."

Her heels pounded onto the floor as she spread her legs in a small leap, surprising the crowd!

"Aaaaand that's good, isn't it grand, isn't it GREAT! Isn't it swell? Isn't it fun isn't it! But nothing- GYAH!"

A loud scream registered from the showgirl as she was suddenly tackled off the stage. Se landed with a thump, the crowd parting for her landing. She screamed again, a black figure grasping her in his hands, teeth embedded in her neck.

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The woman saw colors swishing in front of her, but could barely make out the faces and the shapes. She could hear things, though. She heard the voices, the shouts. She felt arms wrap around her, warm against such cold, cold skin. She took in a shaky breath as the alcohol soaked handkerchief was pressed against the wound.

"What's happened?" she said in a whisper, "What's gone on? I don't understand, I..." She squeezed her eyes shut. As the poison wore off from the vampire's bite, the pain flooded back. She heard something about a paramedic. "Oh, no...don't...I can't afford medical bills..." she told them, reaching out in front of her. Her fingers grasped Lucas' collar weakly.

"I can't...can't give any information...of who I am..." Her head leaned heavily on the shoulder of the man holding her. "Just bring me to the back room...please..."

The crowd that gathered around them was significant. The showgirls had been screaming, but they now looked, in horror, at the scene of their dying star. One of them pointed out a finger and called, "He's gone!"

The vampire. His body was gone.

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The vampire could smell it...the blood of that woman. Still warm, still running through her. What a lovely thing she was, with rosy cheeks and eyes that simply...warmed the soul. The one he no longer had. It is what drew him close these last weeks. He had watched her, studied her...oh, what grace, what class! The curves of her waist and the curves of every other place of her body...

Of course he could not wait just one more night. And, of course, that's what would kill him, as well. However, even as Lucas came forth, punching the younger vampire into the wall with incredible force, fist pounding at his spinal chord, breaking that, as well, the younger vampire spoke.

"Can't...can't you...smell him? He...will get to her...first...I have to..." Dying words, they were, and they faded off before the undead finally died.

----

The woman faded off from the song, and now seemed to be speaking something. When John hugged her, she spoke into his neck, breaths blowing past his skin.

"There's nothing left, Roxy...it's all gone..." Her words were from a famous musical. One she knew well. One she loved. She opened her eyes wide, looking over John's shoulder.

"There's a fire," she commented rather calmly. "There's smoke."

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"Then what?" she asked, trying to brace her hand against the couch so she could sit up. She shut her eyes before her head would spin. She then took in a breath. The wound on her neck...it hurt. It stung, but she could not do much about it. Get her head. She needed to shake this off.

The presence of something else with them that she could not comprehend just gave her gut an awful feeling. She curled her hands around her waist and drew in her legs to her body, as if it would help.

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Her eyes widened as the fog began to lift and form into something human. No, no, not human. One of those people the boss called freaks. One of those people that he told her to stay away from. Living on the streets here, you'd think she knew all about them, but she had been sheltered. She turned to the man in front of her. "Why help me?" she then asked, "I'm just a dancer. I'm not anyone important. You should leave."

She was not trying to be gallant, no, but it sounded like it. Her hand reached up to the wound on her neck, even as he spoke to her. She shook her head gently.

"You should go if he's just here for me."

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The woman was not entirely well still, no. She had lost a lot of blood, she certainly wasn't entirely being herself, and she really wasn't entirely sure of the situation. She was sure it was a dream. Maybe that was why she was being so calm. Maybe she knew it all just had to be a dream. Even so, this other man, he was so...condescending. She had to look down at the ground, as if she were in shame for her stupidity.

The figure up top? Probably did not feel the same way. "I would have to agree with the young man. However..." the figure chuckled, shoulders bobbling up and down, "The thought of them praying too much put a smile on my face, kid. It did."

The black mass hopped down from above, landing perfectly on its feet in front of the old, wise vampire. "Lived a long time. Oh, I am sure. However, I believe you have lived a long time in the place you came from. Wing City is a different story. Now, ah...forgive me," said the brown cat that sat patiently in front of the vampire.

"I've been rude. My name is Mo."

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The cat rolled his eyes, lifted a paw, and licked it clean as the vampire spoke. "Very well. Though, do not deceive yourself, vampire; there are things you do not know about this world. Hell, there are things no even I know of this world, and I was made here. Funny, ah? Though, watch your tongue. Remember, in some vampires, one must feed the victim their own blood as well as taking the victim's blood, as well. Some of them work different. Like snakes and venom. And some..." he went on, tilting his head to the side as he looked at this fellow,

"...well, my friend, some work by way of bedroom visits. Don't asks me how that works. Then we'd be getting into details not pleasant to company!"

---

The burlesque dancer put her hand to her forehead, then moved to lay back down. Yes...a dream...there was talking cats and vampires and a young, strapping man...

It had to be a dream.

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"Hmn...I suppose you may try. It would be just too easy for you, wouldn't it, Master Vampire man?" said the cat, the long, lithe tail flicking patiently behind him. He almost seemed to grin at him. "Would you not rather a real challenge? Killing a worthless little human...or fledgling. Is that not below you?"

Mo yawned. Really, now.

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Mohatmas curled up and purred. "You may believe anything, dear friend. But do not close your mind for arrogance. Not so soon, and not in Wing City. Never in Wing City, for what goes on in here happens in no other place...and what happens here stays here, as well."

Like Las Vegas. Sorta.

"I hope you have a good time. And I hope you find that person that can rival you. Good luck."

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Behind the dressing room door, which had been closed, but not locked, voices and strange noises could be heard. One was the voice of the dancer. The other, unfamiliar.

"Oh- oh, don't do that!" said the girl.
"Would you sit still? It's going to open up again!"
"Oh, but that hurts!"
"When you move around it'll just hurt more!"

These voices continued on, and what cold either be weeps or sighs from the showgirl were heard. "Well, I wonder what they're up to. Aren't you curious?"

Mo, the brown cat, sat at John's feet, his tail curled around the man's ankle. "I think we should check it out."

The cat walked forward and leaped for the handle.

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The moment the door flew open, cat dangling from the handle, two people turned their heads toward them. There was a man, blonde hair, lithe build, turned toward the couch. To the side, the showgirl's slender legs could be seen, and then her face as she peeked over the man's shoulder.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. She tried to stand up, but something stopped her. A string. Coming out of her neck. She cried out. The man turned, scowling at her. He held the other side of the string, which had a needle on it. It was being strung through the flesh in her neck, where the wound had been.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that! The wound is going to open up again!"
"I...I know...oh, but not one more, I'll sit down, I'll sit down!" she panicked, doing just that. The blonde shook his head, then looked toward John and the cat.

"Well, you and your friend come in for something? Don't just stand there."

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"Yes. And we would make better success if she stopped moving." commented the blonde man, clearly irritated. He dug the needle right back into her skin, causing her to flinch and cry out. Her fingers clenched.

"I...misleading? In what way?" she asked John. For being what she was, what he said did throw her off. After all, this was not really the room to conduct business, anyway. "And...so you're actually real, huh? And the cat, too."

She sighed, eyes moving to the ground. "When I woke up I really wasn't sure what to think. But my wound and...your jacket." She moved her hand onto the spot beside her, picking up the cloth. She held it out.

"It's a bit damp because I washed it for you."

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She stretched out a hand to take the card, eyes scanning it before coming back to the man's face. She smiled. "It's appreciated anyway. I'm not myself right now. I'm a bit of an airhead at the moment, but...when I catch you next, I swear it'll be a bit more interesting. I just have to get everything together...you know?"

Indeed, everyone had said she had been a bit weird since last night, but she had an excuse. She had, after all, been attacked. And more.

"Zaria," she replied. "And you?"

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Mo meowed and threw one final glance at the dancer before following John out the door, a twinkle in his eye apparent before the door was closed. Zaria stood there in her burlesque outfit, which had become uncomfortable in the last day of wearing it. She needed to change, she needed to shower, and she needed to figure out what she was going to do after that.

---

"You seem like a rather smooth talker, John." Mo said to him. "It's no question that every time you speak it sounds like a flirt."

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"Hmhm. Nothing special. The wonders of manipulation are not a trivial thing, Johnathan Mave, however, I wonder if your brother inherited the same trait." said the cat. "I did not speak to her because I did not feel like speaking. Don't you know cats, John? We don't speak when there is nothing to say."

For a brief moment, the cat paused, thoughtful. "Mave...Mave..." he mumbled. That name. Mave. "Don't bother with being grateful. After all, toying with those types of beings brings me more joy than playing with the pawns."

The setting changes from main-street to Gambit's Bar

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A sweet hum carried its noise into Gambit's bar. The melody, romantic and warm, floated around the establishment as a tall, nubile young lady entered through the doors, long heels clacking onto the floor. She wore a long coat with fur around the hood and a green scarf around her neck. Her black hair was pinned into a bun, strands falling down her shoulders.

She sauntered all the way to the counter. Sure, the club had a bar, too, but she'd just been attacked. Her pale, slender fingers came up to the stitches on her neck. They fell to her side shaking. Well, that was certainly an experience. One she would never forget.

As she sat down, she did not bother to take off the coat. What lay beneath was not the type of thing you would wear to a common bar.

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The dancer looked up, taken by surprise when she heard someone speaking in her direction. Those brown orbs darted around the room until they fell upon a man who leaned against the corner. He was speaking to her. Furrowing her brow, she took a step toward him. "I'm sorry," she said, "Are you...alright?"

She kept walking, and though she was cautious, the man did not look like he was in the best condition. "You don't look well."

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With her arms tucked in closely to her, the showgirl dared take one more step toward him. However, the boy seemed content enough to walk by her, trip himself, and start yelling at her. Zaria frowned. "I didn't do a thing," she hissed, though her tone changed, becoming slightly softer, "But you did. What are you getting at? What are you trying to do?" She pulled her coat more tightly around herself.

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The woman looked up and about Quark's face, eyes gracing the scars upon them. She frowned, furrowing her brow. "I haven't done anything yet. You legal to drink?" she asked, pulling out a chair for him. She would take the one adjacent the man.

"Here, sit. Did something happen? You alright? I'm sorry. I don't know you at all. What's your name? I'm Zaria."

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"I wouldn't know. I've heard stories about Gambit's, but this is only my first time actually coming here. I...hope the rumors aren't all true. I see strange enough people at the club I work at, but nothing bad ever really happened until recently," she told him, trying to manage a smile as she ordered a drink for herself. Alcohol might help him calm down. Probably, it was what he needed. Perhaps he was just having some sort of breakdown.

"Nice to meet you as well."

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"I'm not so sure. Knowing someone's alive can put me at ease, most times...knowing they're alright." She shook her head. "But death just means they're gone. So, is that your problem?" she asked, looking up at him. "You've lost someone out there, and they ain't coming back to you?"

She licked her lips and sighed, placing her glass down. "Red-Headed Slut. Weird name, hm? Not as bad as some, though. Funny, because I actually know a few of those." She stifled a laugh. "Vodka is nice, but too strong. I want to enjoy the drink, too, you know?"

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"Yeah, well...I suppose it's someone very important. I won't inquire too much. After all, we've only just met," she told him. "That's just it, though, isn't it? When they're dead...you can't do anything. That's what gets to me. I want to be able to do something for them. But they're not their to help. Not ever again."

She glanced at Quark. "Not enjoying it? Well...I can understand wanting to get drunk, too. But not all the time, no."

Suddenly, a light lit up in the breast pocket of her coat, followed up by a buzz. She slipped out a thin cell phone and flipped it open. "Yes?"

A loud cry could be heard on the other side, to which Zaria cringed. "Alright, alright. I'll be right there, okay? Cya."

She looked apologetically to the man she was with. "Terribly sorry. I have to go. I need to get to work. Next time, maybe."

And with that, she was trotting away and out the door, loud heels clacking.