when everything's made to be broken *

[hannah]

Tristan was in the middle of sinking a pair of plastic fangs into the neck of a fellow actress, his upper lip curled to expose the fake blood they were trying to make realistic. Naturally, it felt silly to wear, but Tristan was handling it very well. He was actually handling this movie very well. Being sober was an entirely new thing for him, at least considering the past couple months. But just because he wasn't drinking didn't mean he was better. At all, in fact, it was worse. He was emotionally a wreck, and trying his hardest not to let it show. Like in his acting, he decided to put the emotion into that instead of the liquor bottle. As if his behavior wasn't proof enough, the fact that he was actually sober, but telling everyone he was still drinking was icing on the cake. He knew the real reason why he wasn't drinking. It was because Paige told him to quit, told him how much better she liked the "old" him, whatever that was. He assumed the old him was the one that could live without a bottle in his hand. But he didn't want her, or the general public for that matter, to know he was taking her advice. Of course no one knew she specifically asked him to stop drinking but the two of them, but he didn't want people to know he'd gone soft.

"Cut!" echoed in his ears, followed by the sound of scurrying artists. Apparently some of the fake blood was askew and needed redoing. He leaned back on his heels, since both he and the other actress were seated on the ground, her on her behind and him on his knees. He looked down at his hands folded into his lap, which were looking quite different. His fingernails were false, long, and black which was extremely strange for him. They were like claws, in fact. But around that, they had been dipped in the strange red liquid. Not only was it strange to the touch, but it tasted weird. He ran his tongue over his false fangs, wondering how much it would cost to get them permanently installed. Oh wait, he wasn't a Cullen, that shit was gay. He chuckled at himself a little, and pushed himself back onto his knees as they prepared to do the scene again.

Tristan leaned in close, his face near the actress'. She shied away, but he lifted a bloodied hand, caressing her cheek with a long, black fingernail. He exhaled audibly, so the camera could catch it, then gave a dramatic inhale close to the woman's face. He turned her face closer to his, so he could look her in the eye. He had colored contacts in - red, of course - and he looked quite sinister. He didn't like them though. They were itchy and irritating, plus, he didn't what was so wrong with his green eyes. They were mesmerizing and bright, anything a girl could ask for. But he couldn't let himself get distracted. He said a couple lines, ones he'd had memorized for weeks now. Even though he was in coma and couldn't remember nearly killing himself with alcohol, he remembered every line to this script. He dramatically, and falsely, sunk his false teeth into her neck, drawing false blood, and falsely killing her. This wasn't exactly Tristan's signature type of movie, but his character got killed in the end, so he had to take the role, right?

Tristan stood up, immediately going for the fake teeth. He popped them off his canines and got to scrubbing his front teeth with his finger. When he agreed to this, he didn't realize it would mean his mouth tasting like salty relish all day. What was in that fake blood shit? Actually, he decided he'd rather not know. He ran a hand through his gelled hair, trying to loosen it up and make it his again. Well, that wasn't exactly possible, considering it was dyed darker and cropped strangely. He glanced at himself the mirror and noted how the makeup made him look sick. Well, he was sick. But not in the same way, and not visibly. He could see it, but apparently no one else knew him well enough or even cared for that matter. But he wasn't looking for friends or people to care about him. He made it twenty-five years with not a whole lot of people doing either of those things. Yes, he had fans. Yes, he had some friends. But really, what were they when your life boiled down to just a moment? A whisper?

Absolutely nothing.

He was handed a bottle of water which he promptly opened and poured some in his mouth. After a little bit of swishing it around to properly rid his mouth of the disgusting taste, he found a trash can and spit it out. He sighed, looking around the set as people packed up for the day. It was into the evening, just around dinner time for most people. Tristan wasn't hungry. No, he was just depressed. Like he was all the damn time. He leaned back against the wall, watching people scatter, leaving him alone for the most part. Well, it was his own fault, he'd sort of sunk back against the wall in the corner. Why? He didn't know. But he eventually came out, taking off the leather jacket that he'd been wearing as part of his costume and slinging it over his shoulder. He rounded the corner, and was caught with a flash of outfit and hair. "Sorry," he instantly spit out, wondering who the hell he'd have to pretend to be friendly toward now.

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hey there, lucia f. / dayna

[/color], this is for you. it's 951 words long, and he's wearing this and lookin' mighty fine. the creds go to me for all the graphics and goo goo dolls for the lyrics. in other news, someone wants it. I know..[/justify]

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[kody]

When time came to start filming on 'Slayer By Night' Lucia was somewhat thrilled but also scared of what set was going to be like. It was over run with males she knew, including her ex-husband, Cash - whom she loved to give a bad time, and on top of that Ace was bringing his wife and his untrained personal assistant Nic, and Lucia's bodyguard Vince was going to be in on all the fun was well. She didn't expect it to be a party, but a very dramatic time. Nothing like Six Lives. That movie was a great bonding experience, going onto set the only person she really had any type of relationship with prior to filming was with Jack Bailey, and it wasn't exactly a great one but they made it through nicely. This vampire movie was going to as highly anticipated as the futuristic military action film, but it was going to be one of those movies where everybody shows up, films, stays in their trailers, and then goes their separate ways when it's over.

Rumors had already started going around about Nic sleeping with the director that hired her as his personal assistant, and the blame for the accusations being made was put in Lucia. Sure she had a sneaky supision that they were sleeping together, and she would have only confided in one certain person on set that she was close to that wasn't even a part of the film. But Lucia making the comment about how she didn't think Nic was trained to be an assistant sent everybodies minds racing and they thought the worst, and then blamed it in her. An almost thirty year old really shouldn't have to deal with petty who's sleeping who drama. It was probably hypocritical of her to accuse Ace of an affair with an employee, because Lucia was having the same problem herself, and even made her way into the magazines for it. The only difference was that neither her nor Vince were cheating on anybody, the only problem people had with it was that it was unethical for a boss to be sleeping with an employee. Blah blah blah.

She had already filmed quite a bit, mostly scenes with Josh, Cash, and Kat; the only human characters in the entire movie. She played a half vampire and the only time she really had any scenes with other vampire characters were when she is killing them, and she hadn't filmed any of those yet. She was eager to though, because her ex-husband was one of the vampires she got to kill. Recently out of her own scene for a dinner break. Lucia was hungry most of the time, but today she didn't seem to be, she'd been so busy that the one person she was eager to see every day hadn't been around that much. But even though her appetite wasn't up to pare she still tried to hurry and get food before it was gone. Yeah she ate at inappropriate times for her body, so what? She wasn't a typical Hollywood size 2 and luckily for her nobody cared, it was all about the T and A right?

"Crap." She spat ever so modestly as she was stopped in her tracks by a body she had gracefully ran into (not). She brushed her hair out of her face with her hands and tucked it behind her ears. She looked over to see that the person she had ran into was her friend Tristan. He had been worrying her lately, and even though she didn't always have the greatest amount of compassion for people, she always seemed to be able to find some for Tristan. She looked him over, decked out in his gothic vampire gear. A sly smile appeared across her face. "Ooh, you make a sexy vampire Tristy." She teased taking a step closer to run her fingers through the hair closest to his neck, not wanting to mess up the lovely crews 'do.

To her he had looked depressed, and he had expressed interest in sobering up since coming out of the hospital. She knew he had drama with Paige, she kind of didn't want to ask about it, but he just looked so depressed in the face, and she hated to see a man pathetic, unless they were at her mercy. "How're you feeling?" She questioned with a sympathetic pout on her face.

[hannah]

Of course it had to be Lucia he would run into at a time like this, when he was absolutely unable to wipe the smug ass look off his face and slap on that smile that made all his fan girls melt. He didn't even try. He knew she could sniff out a fake in seconds. He was about five years her junior, which wasn't all that much, but she always made him feel so young again, like he was thirteen and she was a twenty-one year old woman he was trying to score with. Of course he wasn't exactly trying to score with her, just make her think he was. If she ever offered, yeah, he would sleep with her, but that wasn't going to happen. He knew it. Ever since he hit the A-list he wasn't as naive as people sometimes perceived him to be. He was actually quite stuck in reality, contrary to popular opinion and hearsay. He knew what was real and what was fantasy, where his dreams stopped and what was going to happen started. He knew he made it seemed like he lived in a life with simple decisions and stupid mistakes, but he knew he would pay for each of them in their own time.

She didn't slap on the smile quick enough. Tristan saw the worry flash before her eyes like a passing light. He just hoped he wouldn't have to explain.. hell, there really wasn't anything to explain. Everyone knew he was ball-and-chained for Paige, and basically shitting himself because she was probably the one woman on the face of the planet he couldn't woo, or have forever. But at any rate, at her comment a small smile grew at the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes lightly as she reached up and fiddled with a lock of his brown - well, almost black, now - hair. He rolled his eyes playfully, trying his best to suck it up and be a man, pretend nothing was wrong. He shook his head. "This blood diet is ruining my appetite, though,

[/color]" he said, his voice just a little too serious for the usually-joking relationship the two had. He ran his tongue over his teeth some more, his mouth still tasting faintly like something nasty. He groaned a little mentally, wondering if he'd ever get the taste out. Probably not: just his luck right?

"Though it is slimming me down, don't you think?" he asked in a very high, and very fake girlish voice. He turned to the side, and he probably almost disappeared. The boy was small to begin with, but the lack of liquor and lack of appetite left him even scrawnier. He was eating, yes. He wasn't becoming anorexic or anything, he simply hadn't been in the mood for any of the food available to him. Besides, Canadians ate road kill or something, didn't they? He didn't know. He knew it was the depression, but was denying that too. Regardless, the crew commended him on his slim-down. Apparently that was the look they were after for this vampire. Skinny, sickly, and dark. That basically described Tristan to a T.

He watched her carefully, and he could see the compassion there in her cheeks and in her eyes. It was why he looked up to her and joked around with her. If he didn't want her to care, he would dismiss any remark she made like he did with everyone else. But he didn't mind it from her. When she asked the question, his still-red eyes dropped to the floor, to the boots on his feet. They weren't really "him", but they were sure as hell Laurent. But back to the question. He'd gotten it a trillion times a day since he got out of the hospital. He wished everyone would just leave him alone about it... how he was doing was his own business and no one else's. Why did they want to know anyway? Regardless of how he responded they would do on with their day without so much as a sideways glance. He wasn't one to be dramatic though.

"Fine, fine," he responded, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside him. They both knew that answer was a blatant lie, but it would be a little too dramatic if he said he was absolutely miserable. He gave a light shrug after that. He heard what everyone was saying about her and the director and his assistant. To be honest, he didn't give a flying fuck what or who the director was doing, and he didn't hold Lucia responsible for anything. More than that he wanted to stay out of the drama. He wanted so badly to get his life back in order but he just couldn't. Every day after filming he went to his trailer and sat on his couch, watched the TV, and missed her. Then he got up and looked at the fridge full of Grey Goose and Heineken, just staring at the crystal clear vodka and the vibrant green bottles. Just looking, nothing more. Occasionally he stroked the sweaty surface of one, but never extracted it from the cold fridge. He realized this was pathetic and absolutely no way for a person to live, especially one of his stature. But it didn't seem like there was much hope anymore. If he couldn't have Paige he didn't want anyone or anything. But he was trying his hardest to grow up, mature, learn from it, and put himself more into his work. He was avoiding the beer and cleaning up. But he didn't feel a damn bit better.

"You? Your muscley guy?[/color]" He returned the question with no inflection on the part about her bodyguard. She looked thoroughly annoyed by all the prying going on here, and if she could have sympathy on him right now so could he. He was capable of feeling like a human being, and it was apparent now more than ever. Really, all the drinking had done was cover up what the world so desperately needed to see and fix in Tristan Silvers.[/justify][/blockquote][/size]

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hey there, lucia f. / dayna

[/color], this is for you. it's 1019 words long, and he's wearing this and lookin' mighty fine. the creds go to me for all the graphics and goo goo dolls for the lyrics. in other news, woop fastreply..[/justify]

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[kody]

When it came to Tristan she tended to view him as a teenager, or at least somebody significanly younger than that needed some attention and tender loving care every once in a while. Lucia, feeling like a mother quite often, and would never mind giving him some love if he felt like he needed it. She wasn't exactly that way with everybody. He seemed like a teenager needing guidance, especially after nearly drinking himself to death and falling a part after a nasty breakup with a girlfriend. Just like the man she was trying to get open up to her, Tristan seemed like he tried not to get close to anybody either. She knew he had Jack Bailey, but really, how reliable was he?

He joked and she gave him a warm smile that followed a small chuckle. She noticed his fangs, simply because they looked unusual and out of the ordinary on him. She'd had fangs in earlier, and they really had corrupted her ability to talk, and had made her mouth sore as well. She watched as he turned to the side, quite like a model. Even though he was joking around, he had become fairly thin, more than he had been before. She was probably bigger than him at this point. Maybe they could borrow each others clothes. "Oh my." She reacted, as if just realizing how critical his situation was. "I have the sudden urge to force feed you a large chocolate cake." No, not a piece, the whole damn thing, and if he didn't like cake, then let it be pizza.

Bullshit he was fine, she'd noticed him mooping about from a distance. She wasn't a creeper but she tended to aware of her surroundings, despite having just rounded a corner and bumping into Tristan. She rolled her eyes, and it wasn't playful. Knowing his situation, she wasn't going to pry for a story, and she wasn't a psychologist so she wasn't going to ask him about the emotional roller coaster he was currently riding. She really wished she could do something for him though, just to make his life a little more enjoyable. She had heard that Paige girl was truely cold hearted, and she really must have been to leave this poor lost little boy out into the cruel world alone after his hospital visit. She could've just punched the girl in the face.

Lucia really had nothing to complain about compared to Tristan. Just some youngin' trying to pick fights with her and her uncontrollable desire to want to lock her bodyguard away from the world and never let him leave her. At the thought of Vince she did smile a little. "That muscley guy has a name, i've told you a million times, his name is Vince." She wasn't really scolding him, just informing him with a little attitude to spice things up. "I'm good enough." It was a nice breif explaination of how she felt, very vague and truthful. Unlike his response to the same question.

She noticed that the hallways had been pretty much cleared out, since every one had had a long day and was dying to get away. She looked to her right and then to her left before looking straigh at him again. She saw the sad look in his eyes yet again and she felt like she needed to do something. She sighed and leaned against the wall opposite him. "I know you're not fine Tristy. I may not be a professional psycholoist, but I must say that i'm pretty good for hugging and listening, and just about everything else." She half-joked, trying to keep things light. "I'm not going to go all deep on you or anything." Kind of sounded like a perverted joke, but she was being serious.

[hannah]

Tristan had officially had it with these stupid contacts. He had perfect vision without them, so they were just downright irritating. When he first started this project, getting the contacts in and out were a huge problem. Something about some stranger touching his eye was completely terrifying for him and he couldn't hold still for them to put them in. Eventually it worked, with four people holding him down, one holding his eye open, and another putting the damn thing in. Of course after that they'd had to postpone filming because his eyes were so bloodshot they looked red anyway, and he could have easily passed as a crack addict, what with being so skinny and looking so sick. So of course they had to repeat the process getting the damned things out, and he wasn't a happy camper about it. But as the week went on he got better about it, and the staff realized they should take out stock in disposable, red contacts. Nonetheless, he held his eyelid open with two fingers of one hand, while the other index finger blindly stabbed at his eye before he remembered he was wearing those fucking acrylic nails. "God dammit." It was more of a whine than a real threat. He blinked helplessly, trying to get the fucking thing to settle back into a more comfortable position. He finally just whimpered pathetically, pressing his eyes shut tight then opening them again. Okay, fuck it. He was done. Leave it in, turn him blind. He no longer cared.

He laughed at what she said about the chocolate cake. A lot of people had offered him the same thing, but the director was apparently happy with his weight; or lack thereof. "If you could produce me a giant chocolate cake I would eat it willingly,

[/color]" he said with a bit of a chuckle. "The guy in charge might not like it though. I was told if I could slim down any for the role it would only make it better," he said with a shrug. It was true, and he hadn't exactly planned on it until he noticed the pounds shedding off him so easily. He didn't mind, he wasn't starving himself. It was easy, actually, since he wasn't ever hungry anymore. He caught her non-playful eye roll, and knew it was coming. She knew him well even though they weren't really, really close. Honestly, he trusted her with a lot more than he did anyone else. And as selfish as he could be, he felt like dumping his problems on her was wrong. That was the primary reason he never wanted to talk to her about anything, since he didn't know her that well. He trusted her with a lot, but still. She didn't need his shit dumped on her too... no one did.

Tristan noticed that smile that crept onto her face when he brought up her bodyguard. He decided to let it go though, since now wasn't the time to pick on her about it. He didn't have the energy to pick on her about it, actually. He just wasn't in the mood to do so either. He just wanted to go marinate in his own shame and self-pity. He knew he was going to get reprimanded for calling him her "muscley guy". He knew the man was Vincent Moore, he'd actually met him a couple times over the years. He seemed pretty detached, but was a decent guy nonetheless. No one Tristan could see falling for Lucia, but it didn't matter. She was obviously happy with it. He nodded with a forced smile when she said she was good enough. Well, at least she was being honest about this, unlike him. But hey, it was obvious enough that he wasn't fine. If he'd admitted he was miserable, it would seem like he was wallowing in self pity and he only did that in the comfort and darkness of his own trailer.

Tristan watched her look left and right, and he had to wonder what was coming next. He sort of leaned in to hear what she had to say, since it seemed like it might be pretty important. He laughed a little at her last remark. He knew she would be there for him, but he felt like right now he had to keep to himself. Anything he said to anyone was fair game for the press to twist as they would and make him seem so much worse than he was. For once he was worried about his image. The public already knew about his coma incident, and he was surprised he wasn't asked to leave the cast of Slayer by Night. He was lucky. Tristan looked down at the ground, then back up. He swallowed the ever-present lump in his throat. "Thanks," he said quietly, the half-smile on his face was real and very appreciative. No one had ever done that for him. Honestly, the poor kid could go for a hug right about now. It was like no one even cared that he was struggling. They all just gave him those knowing smiles and kept walking. Not once did they offer to help him, listen to him.. He looked down at his hands, that were fidgeting at where they met across his tiny stomach. Finally he did give in, curling his arms around her shoulders in an embrace. No one was around.. he wasn't being a pussy. He was taking support that he so obviously needed. Not that a hug was a whole of support, but he did sigh comfortably. And you could tell it wasn't one of those perverted hugs he initiated to feel your chest pressed up against his. He really just wanted the comfort that hugs were associated with. [/justify][/blockquote][/size]

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hey there, lucia f. / dayna

[/color], this is for you. it's 966 words long, and he's wearing this and lookin' mighty fine. the creds go to me for all the graphics and goo goo dolls for the lyrics. in other news, HERE THURR EVERYWHRR..[/justify]

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[kody]

Lucia watched as he struggled to get the contacts out of his eyes, the ones that were suppose to give off the illusion that he was actually a vampire. Actually the stylists had done quite well attempting to throw together outfits and create looks out of the cast members that resembled such dark creatures. The full fledged vampires in this movie were not meant to fit in with society, they were meant to be dark and off putting. This movie was nothing near Twilight, the only thing it did was feed into the vampire craze. This movie was meant to be intense, with a solid story line. It wasn't romantic at all. It was dramatic with a gothic twist that included a whole lot of fantasy. It reminded Lucia of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a much more modernized version. Seeing everyone dressed up in their vampire get up kind of had her wishing that her character wasn't trying to blend into society, only being a half vampire. That was until she witnessed Tristan stab himself in the eye with his long fake fingernails. Men weren't suppose to be used to fingernails. She winced with him as cursed.

Ace the the director, the head hancho of this operation. If the movie failed, it was his fault since he was the director. Well if it failed to create the right type of illusion it was his fault, ultimately any shitty plot or writing was all on the producers. She frowned. Tristan had been skinny even before he came out of his coma and even when he was happy with that Paige girl. He had always been a scrawny guy, nobody that needed to lose any weight. It was sickening to hear that the director was impressed that he had lost weight. It didn't mean that Tristan was committed, it meant something was wrong. But of course nobody else could recognize that but Lucia. Unless she knew somebody on a certain level, she couldn't give a crap about them. But Tristan was somebody she had worked with previously, somebody she had gotten to know on a friendly level. They spoke to each other on a somewhat regular basis and she was actually interested in his health. If he was depressed she was going to notice. Excluding her family, the list of how many people she cared about enough to be concerned, could fit on a post-it note.

She was satisfied when he didn't deny her help. Easily he could have told her to fuck off, and that it wasn't any of her concern. Even though she was nosey woman, she felt no reason to pry at him about what was actually wrong. She didn't need to question him about his relationship with Paige, or if he was happy with his current situation, because she already knew the answers. She gave him a warm smile when he thanked her. It was sincere. Truthfully she was surprised when he actually wrapped his arms around her neck. She didn't think he would take her offer seriously. Admittedly her attempts at comfort were a little pathetic, and she knew they were because comfort wasn't something she offered on the regular. But if she could make him feel a little bit better about himself, then she would be happy for him. She wrapped long her arms around his tiny waist. With her head near his, she spoke softly into his ear. "Everything is going to turn out right for you." She continued to hug him. "If it counts, I care." She promised that she wasn't going to get all sentimental with him, and she was trying real hard not to give him a speech about how things may have been shitty now, but sometime in the future he was going to get the life he deserved.

If anyone walked down that hallway, they would be confused. Tristan was a broken man, and everyone seemed to turn a blind eye to it. If he needed anything Lucia would be there, and anything meant anything. If he wanted her to go yell or beat somebody up, she probably would. If he wanted a moment of silence and comfort, it would happen, and if he wanted to vent that was welcome. But she knew he didn't wear his problems on his sleeve for everyone to see. It was obvious he was trying to put on a front and be strong for everybody else. She looked at him in the face. "Do you need anything?"