Relying on strangers

The year was 1989, and the sun had long set on this rather cold autumn evening. It was Thursday, and Nelinha was heading home after a long day on the piers. She hadn't even scraped enough money together to buy the outfit she wanted, so she guessed she would have to mop it. Or beg her house mother for some extra cash, but it was not seen as a great trait to be begging for money. At least not in the House of Prince. Taking a deep inhale of her cigarette she leaned against a wall, feeling rather cold and not to mention hungry. However she knew that her house father was cooking up something, or at least had left a plate for her. She was young, only 18 of age, but she felt like she had seen too many years for her own good. She spotted a tall man, his green eyes lighting up in the darkness and she pinched her lips around the bud of her cigarette. Was he looking at her or just at the city? And what white dude was out in this part of town at this hour? Her house mother's words rang in her ear; White people liked to visit, never to stay, and that was true for this part of town. It consisted mostly of a melting pot of African-American and latino. "Oi papi, watchu doin' out heres?" she asked, her accent rather thick and clearly from New York herself, however her accent was more clearly reflecting the side of the Bronx she had come to live in.

Nelinha scoffed at his reply, rolling her eyes as she inhaled more smoke, expanding her lungs before slowly blowing out the smoke through her lips. "Night's safe for no-one," she replied, sending him a rather sassy smile as she shifted her weight, pushing one hip forward as her free arm wrapped around and under her other arm. Of course he was looking for someone, she thought. Men always looked for something on these parts of the city, tilting her head a bit to the side as he started speaking of a woman. The corners of her mouth turned downwards, shrugging as she didn't know the girl. "Women disappear out here daily, ain't really nothing new," she said, but it was the sad truth. It was reality, at least for the people she hung around. If people weren't getting shot in the streets, they were dying slowly of HIV, or worse, strangled and left for dead at some sleazy motel. As he looked her up and down she smiled a crooked smile at him, licking her upper lip carefully. "Never cold," she lied with the same sassy attitude that had gotten her into trouble so many times. Chuckling a bit, she ran her thumb's fingernail over her lower lip, looking him up and down. "Why ya askin'? Looking for some warmth baby?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. If he was a cop, she was not trying to get in to trouble, but everyone knew the street code out here. "Or are ya just gonna stare at me, 'cause time is money," she said, curious as to what he was really looking for. It couldn't just be the girl, it seemed almost absurd for a guy to go out of his way to look for a woman - especially at this time of the night, unless it was to soothe his desires.

Nelinha couldn't help but scoff a bit, but of course he knew she was lying. Angels basically ran around playing lie detectors these days. "Are you going to forgive me for my sin?" she asked a bit ironically, blowing smoke out in to the night air. The pale lights from above gave a yellow shine on the ground below, and she knew she had to either call it a night or find a bar that was still open at this time. She smiled brightly as he confessed that she could convince him to having a drink with her, licking her upper lip as she smiled a bit to herself. She liked men, preferably the kind that could take care of her or maybe provide some excitement to her life. Then he decided to spill the beans, so to say, telling her about the disappearances, how they seemed connected. She bit her inner lip, looking absentminded into the darkness. "Were theys black?" she asked bluntly. She couldn't believe that a white man could care for her kind, care for what few years before had been considered slaves or people of lesser value. It seemed like that mentality had stuck with most of the white folk. She took the last drag of her cigarette, dropping it on the ground and stomping out the ash with her high heels, making sure it was out before walking closer to the angel. She let her head fall a bit to the side, studying him almost. "You a cop?" she asked, sticking her tongue in to her cheek as she looked him up and down with crossed arms. He looked like a cop, but perhaps she just felt they all looked the same; the stern face, the way they spoke. Sighing, she shook her head. "Buy me a drink and I'll tell ya all I know," she said turning on her heel to walk a bit down the street until reaching a rather local bar at the corner of a building. Walking inside she moved to sit down at one of the booths, crossing her legs as she played a bit with a napkin that had been left behind by the previous guests.

So he was a cop, but he didn't know what exactly she was doing out here anyways, so perhaps it was safe enough. She wasn't trying to get in to trouble, trouble just kinda happened around her. But he wasn't just a cop, he was one of the feds. "Yo badge didn't say Michael," she replied, raising an eyebrow at him as they walked. Was he trying to fool her and giving her an undercover name instead? "Name's Nelinha," she introduced herself, it was short and simple. As they got inside she felt a little more on edge, but she always had to be. Sitting down she just looked at the napkin she was playing with, biting her lower lip a little, listening to what he was saying. "Ciara, I don't know anyone by that name," she confessed, frowning as she looked at him. She wanted to help in a way, but on the other hand she wasn't looking to get dragged in to trouble. "Tell me more about the other woman, I've grown up here," she said, turning her head a little to the side as she looked at Michael. He seemed a little naive, but she didn't mind that. Perhaps it wasn't naivety, maybe it was just determination. As he searched for the paper of her picture, she looked out at the people in the bar. Looking at the picture she nodded. She knew her. "I've seen her around the streets, nice girl," she said, following the paper with her eyes at it went back in his pocket. The waitress came over, and after Michael had made his order she put on a rather charming smile. "I'll have a manhattan, and some peanuts would be nice," she said. The waitress seemed to nod before walking off to fetch their order. Nelinha turned her attention back to Michael as he spoke, making her sigh as she looked down at the now torn napkin. "New York's a busy city, people die here every day, but it's different when ya can hear it," she said, flashing a sad smile at the angel. Shaking her head a little she placed an elbow on the table, resting her chin on her palm, leaning a bit over the table. "However lately, it's been weird; the dead whisper murder, and not the kind where gangs are involved," she whispered, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms and her hair raise on her neck. "The dead are not happy, and if it's involved with those girls, I'd think twice about just entering that apartment," she said, looking up as the waitress came with their order, grabbing a few of the peanuts and placing them between her lips. She chewed for a while, looking out in the room as she thought it all through. "I'm a banshee, yeah, not many of us these days," she admitted a little absent minded. She took a sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol burn her tongue a little, but it was a nice sting.

"Religious? Not really," she replied calmly. She had never really found any comfort in religion, not once had any god replied to her prayers, so she had given it up along with the idea of Santa Claus and the tooth fairy.

Looking at the picture she felt like she had seen so many people dead over the last couple of years. His question about spirits haunting her made her shrug. She couldn't tell for sure, mostly because some were just spirits passing by. Other seemed to be squatters, meaning that they always seemed to follow her in some capacity. He was a good guy if he wanted to give those girls peace, however they were mere droplets in the sea of people on this earth. Why were they much more important than anyone else, she wondered. Not that it mattered, it wasn't her case to be on. Stirring her drink a little with the small olive on a toothpick she sighed at him saying she had a purpose. She didn't feel like that. And if she was truly this important, then why was she cursed with the life she had? She had fought all her life to be where she was right now. She looked at him rather skeptically as he asked if someone in her family was a banshee. "Wouldn't know, they kicked me out when I was thirteen," she said, her gaze getting a little blank. She didn't like thinking of her biological family, mostly because they had never really been able to look past their own problems. "And before ya give me ya pity, spare it," she added, pointing at him with the olive before moving it to her lips, chewing on it as she sighed. "Not everyone in this life can say their family is good, but I guess that applies to even angels," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. She knew the stories of Lucifer falling from grace, and all of the angels that followed in the aftermath. How many angels got corrupted and lost their wings.

Nelinha wasn't really having his apologies, but he seemed to stay quiet soon enough. She needed no pity, no one to say how life had been unfair to her, because she knew it had. Why stating the obvious when there was no need for it? Some people got a rise out of taking pity in others, but Nelinha didn't see herself as a charity project. She could however agree to his words about family not just being about blood. She had found a home and a family, and they were not related by anything but the wish to belong somewhere. Playing with the toothpick she looked at him as he asked her about her past. Personally she often preferred if she could just let the past be past, but she guessed some people found stories interesting. "I lived on the streets," she said in a voice that sounded a little distant. She didn't like remembering those times, mostly because of the struggle she had gone through. "Two years of me only knowing how to steal for food and getting kicked around by the rich folk," she mumbled, looking down in to her glass as she hated thinking back to how weak she had been, even if she had just been a child. "I used to pray, every night, that someone would come and take me in as their child; I used to pray that I wouldn't be hungry the next day when I woke up," she said. She didn't blame Michael for what he was, but the supposed God clearly had no interest in helping her. "When I realized that God only saw me as a pestilence and a freak, I gave up on praying; I got out there and Hector saw me," she said, biting lightly on one of her long nails. "He of course didn't just take me in, I had to prove my worth; But when he did I finally had a family," she said, finishing her words by emptying her drink. Shaking her head lightly she looked at Michael. "If people want to believe in the goodness of God, then they're more than welcome; But why did he plan for my creation, if I am nothing but a freak of nature?" she chuckled, waving at the waitress to bring her another round to soothe her soul.

//Out <33//