Persona
Author: ScarlettMithruiel
Rating: PG
Classification: A
Summary: There's more to Ainsley than they see.
A/N: I was writing a chapter for Bipartisanship when this just popped into my head. Sorry if she's off-character.
The neon lights were on, blue, with cigar smoke infiltrating the crisp, cool air of autumn. They had come to see her. She was their jewel, their special diamond, salvaged from something so broken. Her life was splintering and she needed to get away. They didn't know her. They claimed to. She wasn't even sure she knew herself.
At first glance, it seemed to be another seedy nightclub in a dirty neighborhood. It wasn't like that to her. She wasn't like that. After a particularly hard day of working, she had come here to escape her coworkers, her friends, whatever relations she had.
She was not just another girl. She was gritty and tough. She had escaped a life she didn't want to talk about. She had worked hard to get where she was. Nothing was handed to her on a platter. As much as she joked, her relationship with her father was tattered and she wasn't sure whether or not she'd want to resurrect it or ever bring it up again to anybody.
She had arrived in a sequined blue evening gown that was far from modest. She had come here to escape. She had come to lose herself. She stood by the bar and spoke curtly, "Vodka rocks." She was not their girl. She was not someone they knew.
Weeks passed and she became a regular. She always had vodka or bourbon. Who knew one day that someone would follow her? "We are proud to introduce our acclaimed jazz singer, Miss Anna." She stood there, the mic in front of her and embraced the coldness of the crowd. She had never sang here to be noticed.
As her voice slowly warbled out the notes, clear and resonating, she didn't see the man sitting in the corner. She didn't see him, smoking a cigar quietly in the background, and watching. She didn't see the paper he had in his pocket, stamped with the Presidential seal. But he saw her.
Once she finished her set, she quickly went back down to the bar. He followed her. He listened as she ordered another vodka rocks and watched her sip it. "Ainsley?" She turned slowly, methodically, as if not to realize he was talking to her.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she said. But he saw it. Her eyes conveyed the very answer her voice would not express. He realized the cold truth of it too. Now, she was not Ainsley. She would not be Ainsley until she came to work the next day. Now, she was Anna.
Author: ScarlettMithruiel
Rating: PG
Classification: A
Summary: There's more to Ainsley than they see.
A/N: I was writing a chapter for Bipartisanship when this just popped into my head. Sorry if she's off-character.
The neon lights were on, blue, with cigar smoke infiltrating the crisp, cool air of autumn. They had come to see her. She was their jewel, their special diamond, salvaged from something so broken. Her life was splintering and she needed to get away. They didn't know her. They claimed to. She wasn't even sure she knew herself.
At first glance, it seemed to be another seedy nightclub in a dirty neighborhood. It wasn't like that to her. She wasn't like that. After a particularly hard day of working, she had come here to escape her coworkers, her friends, whatever relations she had.
She was not just another girl. She was gritty and tough. She had escaped a life she didn't want to talk about. She had worked hard to get where she was. Nothing was handed to her on a platter. As much as she joked, her relationship with her father was tattered and she wasn't sure whether or not she'd want to resurrect it or ever bring it up again to anybody.
She had arrived in a sequined blue evening gown that was far from modest. She had come here to escape. She had come to lose herself. She stood by the bar and spoke curtly, "Vodka rocks." She was not their girl. She was not someone they knew.
Weeks passed and she became a regular. She always had vodka or bourbon. Who knew one day that someone would follow her? "We are proud to introduce our acclaimed jazz singer, Miss Anna." She stood there, the mic in front of her and embraced the coldness of the crowd. She had never sang here to be noticed.
As her voice slowly warbled out the notes, clear and resonating, she didn't see the man sitting in the corner. She didn't see him, smoking a cigar quietly in the background, and watching. She didn't see the paper he had in his pocket, stamped with the Presidential seal. But he saw her.
Once she finished her set, she quickly went back down to the bar. He followed her. He listened as she ordered another vodka rocks and watched her sip it. "Ainsley?" She turned slowly, methodically, as if not to realize he was talking to her.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she said. But he saw it. Her eyes conveyed the very answer her voice would not express. He realized the cold truth of it too. Now, she was not Ainsley. She would not be Ainsley until she came to work the next day. Now, she was Anna.