at the end of the world | open

[shoshanna rosenfeld]

my entire world is made of fragile glass - you may look in but don't dare touch

It was a Sunday morning.

It was the hardest time to keep the girls motivated and in line. Saturday night was always a late one and the girls usually made the most money on those nights. They also met up after their shift and went drinking together. Shoshanna had always been tempted to ban them from doing so - but she also knew it was a fine line to walk with the girls. If she pushed them too hard they would no longer trust her - and it would be an all out mutiny. She understood that this wasn't the dance academy she had grown up in - these were women, not girls. And this was a glorified strip show - not a ballet studio. It was something she had to constantly remind herself of.

It was almost midday and the girls were sloppy and lazy at rehearsal. Anna was beginning to lose her patience. She had the eight girls all lined up on the stage - curtains drawn of course to give them privacy. They were running through the new group dance Anna was trying to teach them. It was important to her that the girls get this right - it would require a lot more technique and she hoped it would raise their status. But most of the girls had no technique - and when their head wasn't in the game, it irked Anna. Moving behind the girls, she adjusted them here and there; straightening poses, lengthening legs and adjusting their posture.

The girls were tired and hungover and getting cheeky - and Anna was tiring quickly of the pointless session.

Stopping the music sharply, Anna stared down the girls for a moment.

"...Take five, girls. I want all of you to eat a decent meal, shower, maybe have a kip, and come back in two hours ready to learn - do you understand me? If any of you return at anything less than your best - you will be sitting out of tonight's performance." It was strict. Perhaps a little too harsh on them - but Anna knew she was doing the best for them. If they wanted to survive and thrive in this world - they had to learn. If they didn't perform tonight it meant they didn't get paid. It was sometimes the only way to get through to these girls.

They moved off stage quickly, like little girls in trouble and traveled in a group to the casino's kitchens to get a nice hot meal. Anna sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. In a bit of a temper, she stood for a moment, tapping her foot as she tried to settle her blood pressure. Lately she had been snippier than usual. Her home life had been miserable lately. Tony suspected something - she knew he did. He couldn't put his finger on it - but he suspected something off with his wife. So he fought even harder to put the fear of God into her. She'd returned home late last night after work - she had dared to stay for one drink with the girls. And she had suffered for it. He'd grabbed her by the throat and thrown her against the wall.

Now she had to wear her turtleneck sweater to work - and it was much too warm for the temperature outside. Even though it was fall, it still wasn't cold enough to be wearing a sweater. But she couldn't let anybody see what happened at home. That was her private life - and her own private shame. Thinking back on the attack, she felt her hand tremble a little, and without even really thinking about it, she turned the record player back on and restarted the music. It was the same symphony she had danced to all those years ago back in Germany.

With no audience and no fellow dancers, she fell back into her old self. There were no mobsters around her, no police officers, no mouthy strippers or disobedient children she had to put in line. For a few moments, she was able to dance and lose herself within that. For just a few moments, she was free.

Until she heard the sound of footsteps. Instantly, she stopped. Whirling around, she eyed the person who had come in through a side entrance to the casino. Raising an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at the intrusion, she eyed the stranger fiercely.

"...Can I help you with something?"

NOTES: open! | WORDS: enoughh | OUTFIT: light blue turtleneck sweater and grey dance pants

[Luciano]

►

---

ÜBER DEN HORIZONT 

---

The casino was quiet. Yes there were people around gambling but it didn't look as festive as in the evenings. He ventured down a narrow hallway and It was actually too quiet that the somber silence within the walls echoed a revelation from the past; a musical piece. He paused at first, hands in the pockets of his blue dress pants, feet apart and lowered his head; tilted it to one side, and listened.



The notes were indeed so familiar that the symphony couldn't have been anything other but an everlasting, even sensible, reminiscence of a moment, of the past.



He followed his instincts, nearing the heartwarming sounds in time and space. A door. He pushed it open, to the sight of... a woman, dancing. She was dancing. Elegance. Refined articulations. For a moment, he leaned a shoulder against the wall and paused, hands in pockets still as he watched her dance. He felt peaceful. He felt as though he was standing in his station on the ship, watching the sun moving over the horizon.



There was a small closed-lip smile on his face, assaulting repeatedly one corner of his lips because the female was so into her agile dancing, taken by the moment, that she didn't notice his presence. Even he had forgotten how terribly angry he was not too long ago when he found out that he lost a lot of the money invested in the Americano Club.



When he pushed away from the wall and neared the stage, the heels of his black shoes must have scratched the surface of the ceramic floor. Or, his footsteps perhaps must have alerted the woman because now, she was fully facing him with an unimpressed tone of voice.



"Miss I am..." His voice dragged with uncounted droplets of guilt for disturbing her. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to interrupt you, please continue." He cleared his throat and blinked away from her momentarily. He wasn't able to capture her features clearly because of the cabaret's stage lights blinding him a little bit.



"May I?" He glanced between her and the bar area, deserted of any helper but he thought, he could help himself pour a drink or two and if permitted, to watch this woman practice or rehearse for whatever that she was preparing under her sleeve. He stepped behind the counter, cupping a glass in his left palm, and took a glimpse of her silhouette. Curious, he asked: "Are you an employee, Miss? A dancer, perhaps? Or simply, a vagabond in this facility, like myself?"





The seats and chairs were re-arranged in a way that gave the impression that the cabaret had undergone cleaning services in the beginning of the day, or was about to. Aside from the gentle purple stage lights, the rear and front mezzanine were plunged in total darkness while the orchestra level was only partially obscured, tainted by the eerie low level of red illuminance in the room.







Eine neue Hoffnung wird

Durch deinen Mut geboren

---

Riley

[shoshanna rosenfeld]

my entire world is made of fragile glass - you may look in but don't dare touch

It was a rare moment of solitude for Anna.

Her husband was at church, repenting the sins of the night before. God would wipe his slate clean, as he had always done. And she tried not to feed into that cruel side of her - the one that wished God would strike him down. She had been given the chance to play God in the lives of the men who had captured and abused her. It was hard not to let that get to her head sometimes. It was strange to have such power over men who had power over her still. Anna thought of it as a slow acting poison. She had to be like a snake and wait patiently for it to take effect - dodge the strikes and blows and stay alive long enough for her prey to die.

It was the police detective who had given her that analogy. In the nights they'd spent talking over his kitchen table he had heard her guilt and her fear - and fed her nothing but strength and solidarity. Of course Anna knew he had his own motives in all this. But deep down, she believed she had bet on the right side - the goodside. Whether she was on the team that would win or not she wasn't entirely sure - but it made a difference to fight the right fight. Although she slept with one eye open - at least she could look herself in the mirror in the mornings and know she was doing the right thing.

These men had sought only to ever take her power away from her. It was the Heat who were giving it back to her.

And that was what she was thinking as she eyed the strange man - strength. She was one of the most powerful people in this casino - even if nobody knew it.

She didn't even nearly recognize Luciano from all those years ago. They'd never even spoken and there had been too many faces of that night that still haunted her - dominating her memory from the peripheral faces that had simply enjoyed watching her dance that night.

Miss I am...I'm sorry. I did not mean to interrupt you, please continue.

Anna rose an incredulous eyebrow at him. He was nervous. Good. Eying him closely, she didn't pick him to be of the LVPD. They usually came into the casino guns blazing, flashing their badge this way and that. But he wasn't one of her husband's known associates either. The fact that he'd come from a side entrance suggested a few things. He could be a thief, here to rob her husband blind. Or he could be a new associate of her husband's - some investor or new employee. Either way, she was keeping her guard up.

May I?

She followed his gaze towards the bar and her eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. Was he asking if he could have a drink? She was no bartender. She poured drinks for her husband and his associates - but certainly not for strangers. Especially strangers who had interrupted her.

Are you an employee, Miss? A dancer, perhaps? Or simple, a vagabond in this facility, like myself?

Perhaps he thought he was charming, waltzing into her space and asking to see her dance - but Anna didn't see it that way. Lifting the record arm up to stop the music playing, she moved towards the centre of the stage and stared him down from beneath the stage lights.

"It's not miss. It's Mrs. My husband owns this establishment and I am the dance instructor for the shows." her tone was clipped, but not quite rude, her German accent still clinging to some of her words. "...If you are a vagabond here, then I must ask your name. My girls will be back for rehearsals soon. So whatever business you have that involves you lounging around my stage - I would appreciate it if you would conclude it sooner rather than later." she was a suspicious, cold woman. And her eyes seemed to pierce Luciano's skin as she watched him from the stage.

NOTES: so glad you took this up! | WORDS: enoughh | OUTFIT: light blue turtleneck sweater and grey dance pants

[Luciano]

►

---

ÜBER DEN HORIZONT

---

It's not miss. It's Mrs. Even though he was not looking at her, his ears were with her, registering every word that escaped her mouth, in answer to his question. What she said next was certainly not something he expected. My husband owns this establishment and I am the dance instructor for the shows.

If he was inspiring mistrust, then he did not blame her. He was an intruder, forcing himself in her space and the man knew what it was like. He was one who disliked others inhabiting his space, uninvited. But with that been said, Luciano did not care, because at the end, rules were made to be broken and he had one damn reason to why he was pouring his drink, for free. He filled the glass, enough for a few sips of the drink. Under different circumstances he would have exited the cabaret already and went about his business elsewhere before even exchanging a word or two with this dame but, the situation was far too amusing and the attitude, oh her attitude, was more than enough to make him want to stay, if only for another five minutes.  Not for her but for his own pleasure, to do exactly the opposite of what she was requesting. It was in this man's nature to create his biggest adventures out of very small interactions. In such ways he enjoyed life. A choice.

She seemed like she was angry at something, and perhaps at him. She was the woman of a mob Luciano met only briefly for their first business transaction when the late Las Vegas family's boss - Luciano's mentor and father figure - was still alive. Luciano at the time had met  Milo Ventimiglia when Rosetti changed ownership of the investment deal that he made with the Americano Club. He passed the contract to Luciano in the presence of Ventimiglia and his attorney for the signature. Rosetti had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to him, and his arrest a week later in Washington DC proved him right.

The rivalry between the mob Ventimiglia and the Vegas syndicate was never lifted, and Luciano does not plan to do so anytime soon, but it often occurred that rival  Italian/Sicilian mobsters joined forces in Las Vegas for financial and economical reasons since the 1920s. Blood was blood, despite the mafia wars terrorizing each corner of a street, of each big city in the States. Better be the blood controlling most of the businesses in Las Vegas, than the Russians or the Chinese. And if it was not for these rival Italian/Sicilian mobs, Sin City would not have seen its days of glory early in the 1950s. With it being an open territory for casino ownership and business investments, Luciano's greedy grip around the city was tight and it was to remain even if that meant, more shedding of blood outside the city walls. 

"...If you are a vagabond here, then I must ask your name."

"And do you ask the name from every individual walking into this establishment, madame?" By then, Luciano had approached the stairs leading up to the stage, the tips of his left fingers resting inside his pocket, while the other hand held the glass to his lips. "I'm pleased to meet the wife herself. As for my name..."

The impudent man had walked up the stairs and paused, swirling the liquid in his glass. He surveyed her for a second or two, and perhaps only long enough to exhale through his nose after taking his first sip. "My name is not one of importance but so you can rest assured that I'm not some thief or one who wants you harm, my name is... Vito Delaurentis, and a guest of yours." The tone of his voice was friendly, low and deep but surely clear enough for her to understand. He was speaking slowly too as if taking all the time in the world to give her the answer she was looking for, each word a trek leading to the next.

You see, her cold attitude and challenging quality  would inflame a man like him, all the more. In a time and age where women were goal-driven, given more importance and trust in their affairs outside of the homely zone, men were beginning to realize that they were certainly not the only ones playing soccer on the field. These women were threatening but only few were aware of the power in their hands. Luciano had known women of the type and hell, he even fell abundantly in love with a very special case, seventeen years ago. To this day she owned his heart and soul, disappeared and left him a decrepit silhouette in the mist.

Calmly he stepped into the invisible ring, eyeing her - this woman, wife of a man he would not have been too fond of if it was not for business. Luciano was aware of his unspoken insolence, traversing the barrier into the female's domain. When he paused about three feet away from her, he took another sip, and sighed, softly. But then he looked into those fierce eyes and recalled her German accent from a moment earlier. It flashed before his eyes then, the image of a dancing young girl, spinning around in a slow-motion to face him. The dangling brown curls framed a face so bright and lively that, solace he felt washing over his typically chaotic life ... just for that moment. The image slowly faded away to the woman before him. Feeling troubled internally, he never lost composure. But, he looked thoughtful. He shifted his frame around, putting a small distance between them, with languid steps and frequent pauses.

His glacial blues mirrored the antarctic chill in hers, but even at a distance, he noticed a light within her eyes, twinkling in the lights of the stage like the Northern Star. "I was playing poker earlier and I lost a lot of money. I needed this time to think before going back to my wife who I'm sure is already digging my grave. So, if you permit, as soon as I finish my drink I will depart." Lies he spoke if only to buy himself some more time, nay another minute, and before he even knew, his words were quicker than his thoughts. "You remind me of someone." And her name he had yet to know.

---

notes: and glad you made the thread (=

---

Eine neue Hoffnung wird 

Durch deinen Mut geboren

---

Riley

[shoshanna rosenfeld]

my entire world is made of fragile glass - you may look in but don't dare touch

Anna was cold, calculating.

She analyzed his every move, already checking him over for some kind of weapon. Her eyes stared right through him, not even bothering to hide what she was doing. She wanted this man, whoever he was, to know that she was on her guard - that she was always on her guard. It was what had kept her alive this long - being in a constant state of readiness. She was alert even in her sleep, waking at even the smallest disturbance.

But it wasn't just about keeping herself alive and safe - it was about her girls too. They had been entrusted to her, and in her own mind, it was up to her to stop them from being corrupted. By the men or the drugs or the money. So she listened to every whisper that was spoken in the casino. She made it her business to know everybody's business. Anything that impacted herself, her husband, her establishment or her girls was considered essential knowledge to Anna. And so far this man was a wild card. So she had to assume the worst - that he was here to take all of those things from her. And until he proved unequivocably otherwise she would still assume all of those things.

When he began to pour himself a drink, she rose an eyebrow.

"Please, help yourself." she gestured to the bar, her tone still clipped enough to almost sound sarcastic. But he'd shown her something in that. He was a man that was used to having things go his way. Or perhaps he wasn't used to women telling him no. Perhaps both. But it was all data that she was filing away for future analysis.

And do you ask the name from every individual walking into this establishment, madame?

Her cold eyes followed him, narrowing dangerously as he approached her on the stage.

"Not every individual, no. Just the ones who think that the rules of this establishment do not apply to them." she gestured to the 'staff only' sign on the door he had entered through - her eyes never leaving him as he began to ascend the stairs towards her.

I'm pleased to meet the wife herself. As for my name...

The ballerina's brows furrowed, her eyes flickering quickly between his left and right eye - as if trying to find what he was keeping from her there. The wife herself? That implied that he knew her husband. Not just anybody would have had a meeting with him. He wasn't exactly a man of the people. He would only meet those who he thought were important to him. Whether that was for a good or a bad reason, well it made little difference. Now she just had to figure out which one this man was to her husband - and what that meant for her.

My name is not one of importance but so you can rest assured that I'm not some thief or one who wants you harm, my name is...Vito Delaurentis, and a guest of yours

The words were stretched, the pauses between them only serving to irritate her further. And she became even more frustrated when the name he provided her rung no bells. She had never heard that name before. It meant nothing to her and she was even further irritated that he had been intruding on her space for minutes now and she knew nothing more about him than when he'd first stepped foot on her stage uninvited.

"You are right. Your name bares no importance because it reveals nothing of your intentions." she replied matter-of-factly, her first three fingers framing her chin as she got a closer look at the man. But he wasn't entirely a stranger, now, was he? She had seen him before, or at least, she thought she had. There was something familiar about him. But not enough to stir a strong memory - so she wasn't alarmed. He must have been a local, maybe. Perhaps she had seen his face in passing in the supermarket or something just as inane. It occurred to her that he was thinking the same thing, as his gaze grew thoughtful. If anything, she became even more defensive, her arms crossing against her chest as she stared the man down, trying to block him out completely.

And just like that, he began to back away. She wondered if her cold nature had finally got through to him. Most men disliked Anna. And that's just how she liked it. They bristled from her icy composure - and it kept them away from her. They asked her husband how he dealt with his ice princess - and he blatantly told them with the back of his hand. The men would laugh - but they kept away from her and that was the most important thing. She rather liked being disliked by them.

It kept her isolated. It kept her safe.

I was playing poker earlier and I lost a lot of money. I needed this time to think before going back to my wife who I'm sure is already digging my grave. So, if you permit, as soon as I finish my drink I will depart.

Her eyes flickered mechanically to his glass, processing briefly how much time he should realistically take to finish his drink. She didn't believe his story, but she would at least pretend to. With a curt nod, she turned briskly from him and took a few steps into the wings to retrieve her glass of water. Raising it to him politely, she took a few sips, enjoying the silence between them - until he broke it rather abruptly.

You remind me of someone

He was confirming something she already knew, and so she didn't react with much other than by cupping her chin once more.

"And just who do I remind you of, Mr. Delaurentis?" she lowered the angle of her face a little, looking up at him intensely through her long lashes. "...Are you sure we haven't met previously?"

NOTES: so glad you took this up! | WORDS: enoughh | OUTFIT: light blue turtleneck sweater and grey dance pants